...was not my first love.
...took me awhile to "get."
...has followed my personal taste and musical proclivities through more than half of my life.
...is something my mother and I share other than DNA.
...made me a better musician.
...makes me prouder to be an American than I would be otherwise.
...has seen me through breakups, make-ups, and the deaths of my father and great-grandmother.
...took me to France and Switzerland as a performer.
Jazz might not be my first love, but it definitely has proven to be one of my most profound. I consider myself beyond lucky to be able to spend a weekend surrounded by some of the best jazz artists in this country-- watching my heart grow larger by the minute for an art form I haven't yet lived enough life to fully grasp.
These people allowed me into their lives this past weekend:
--Bonnie Brammlett
--Kevin Mahogany
--Cyrus Chestnut
--Al Jarreau
Showing posts with label weekends. Show all posts
Showing posts with label weekends. Show all posts
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Already checked out
In about 24 hours, I'll be pulling up to a little patch of heaven on Earth that looks like this:
I will be serenaded by this man:
Perhaps I will indulge in one of these:
I will more than certainly indulge in a lot of this, however:
Forgive me if despite the fact that I have yet to check into our resort, I'm already checked out of Charm City.
I will be serenaded by this man:
Perhaps I will indulge in one of these:
I will more than certainly indulge in a lot of this, however:
Forgive me if despite the fact that I have yet to check into our resort, I'm already checked out of Charm City.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
It's Official!
I always feel like my plans for time off are up in the air until my travel arrangements fall into place and my time off gets approved. Well, my friends, both of those just happened for my next exodus from Charm City. In a few weeks, I will be here watching this man serenade me with songs like this:
It's been awhile since Mama Downbeats and I have gone away, so we're taking a long weekend in beautiful Asheville, North Carolina. One of my favorite things about blogging is being able to share my travels with people from all over. If you're new to Downbeats' little space on the interwebs, you may not know that I get around a lot. See here, here, here, here, here, here... to read just a few posts in my archives about my travels. I'm looking forward to sharing that time with you all in a few weeks.
It's been awhile since Mama Downbeats and I have gone away, so we're taking a long weekend in beautiful Asheville, North Carolina. One of my favorite things about blogging is being able to share my travels with people from all over. If you're new to Downbeats' little space on the interwebs, you may not know that I get around a lot. See here, here, here, here, here, here... to read just a few posts in my archives about my travels. I'm looking forward to sharing that time with you all in a few weeks.
Friday, October 24, 2008
This is very unceremonial...
...for my 100th post.
But, blogger tells me that I've come back to this site 99 times and actually stuck with something. I should be proud of myself, I suppose. I'm the queen of ideas, but sort of suck at the follow through sometimes. That happens when you're ridiculously busy.
At any rate, I wanted to do something cool for my 100th post. To be honest with you, though, I've been in a really funky mood all week, and I don't really have the energy to be creative right now. I'll do something to celebrate next week.
For now, however, I will leave you with my weekend plans.
*I'll be putting the bloggy box in the mail to Pennsylvania.
*I'll have my nose in this literary gem
*I plan to do a whole lot of this:
*And I have big plans to go to Weber's Farm and spend some quality time with this cutie:
And with any luck, by the time Monday rolls around, I'll be 100% less a neurotic bundle of nerves.
But, blogger tells me that I've come back to this site 99 times and actually stuck with something. I should be proud of myself, I suppose. I'm the queen of ideas, but sort of suck at the follow through sometimes. That happens when you're ridiculously busy.
At any rate, I wanted to do something cool for my 100th post. To be honest with you, though, I've been in a really funky mood all week, and I don't really have the energy to be creative right now. I'll do something to celebrate next week.
For now, however, I will leave you with my weekend plans.
*I'll be putting the bloggy box in the mail to Pennsylvania.
*I'll have my nose in this literary gem
*I plan to do a whole lot of this:
*And I have big plans to go to Weber's Farm and spend some quality time with this cutie:
And with any luck, by the time Monday rolls around, I'll be 100% less a neurotic bundle of nerves.
Monday, October 13, 2008
You can get a smaller waist line by way of chocolate
There are a lot of things that are at least slightly atypical about the life of the Downbeat and the Maestro. I could bore you with a laundry list, but I won't. Atypical thing #837 that stuck out to me this morning as I woke up is that we're friends with wide array of people from all generations, occupations, walks of life, etc. It makes me feel less out of touch. I like having friends both older and younger than I am to give me better perspective on how others live. And I feel like I learn a lot from having friends that run the gamut of life experiences.
I came to this point of introspection by way last night's social outing. We're friends with a family from Kent Island. Said family is comprised of an almost-21-year-old male and his parents. We're pretty equally comfortable with both generations in this family. They invited us over for crabs (an annual October tradition we seem to have with them) and to see the new (beautiful) house that they're almost finished building. We ate crabs outside on the deck (they have to remind me every hear how to eat crabs with a sharp knife rather than a mallet), then we drank coffee and sang hymns and O Brother Where Art Thou inside.
The evening's hostess reminded me of her favorite (and very magical) dessert. I may be wrong, but somehow I think I would never have procured this recipe from someone in the same demographic as my own.
A slice of that bad boy will only hit you up 200 calories. Is that not the most magical thing in the world? No eggs, no butter... just a can of diet soda. It also happens to be the moistest slice of cake I've had. Ever.
It was a lovely end to a crazy busy weekend.
In other news, I've been not-so-officially conserving calories (mostly by being too busy to eat regularly, but cutting out most of the junk when I do), but I feel heads and tails better. If I maintain my lack-of-muffin-top and go to the gym at least twice this week, I'm rewarding myself with a new pair of skinny jeans on Friday. I'll let you know how it goes. And who knows, maybe I'll actually make my oven earn its keep Chez Downbeats and make some Diet Coke cake myself. Every girl needs her chocolate fix after all.
I came to this point of introspection by way last night's social outing. We're friends with a family from Kent Island. Said family is comprised of an almost-21-year-old male and his parents. We're pretty equally comfortable with both generations in this family. They invited us over for crabs (an annual October tradition we seem to have with them) and to see the new (beautiful) house that they're almost finished building. We ate crabs outside on the deck (they have to remind me every hear how to eat crabs with a sharp knife rather than a mallet), then we drank coffee and sang hymns and O Brother Where Art Thou inside.
The evening's hostess reminded me of her favorite (and very magical) dessert. I may be wrong, but somehow I think I would never have procured this recipe from someone in the same demographic as my own.
The Diet Coke Cake
Ingredients:
*A box of chocolate cake mix
*A 12-oz can of Diet Coke
*Cool Whip
Directions:
Empty box of cake mix into bowl. Empty can of Diet Coke into same bowl. Mix with spatula. Spread into a cake pan. Follow heating and baking directions on box (usually 30 minutes at 350-degrees or something like that). Remove, allow to cool, and cut into squares. Apply liberal dollop of Cool Whip.
If you prefer Caucasian cake, you can substitute angel food cake mix and Diet Sprite.
A slice of that bad boy will only hit you up 200 calories. Is that not the most magical thing in the world? No eggs, no butter... just a can of diet soda. It also happens to be the moistest slice of cake I've had. Ever.
It was a lovely end to a crazy busy weekend.
In other news, I've been not-so-officially conserving calories (mostly by being too busy to eat regularly, but cutting out most of the junk when I do), but I feel heads and tails better. If I maintain my lack-of-muffin-top and go to the gym at least twice this week, I'm rewarding myself with a new pair of skinny jeans on Friday. I'll let you know how it goes. And who knows, maybe I'll actually make my oven earn its keep Chez Downbeats and make some Diet Coke cake myself. Every girl needs her chocolate fix after all.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Parties for Good Causes
The last two weekends, I've been invited to parties with ulterior motives for goodness, and both of them have inspired me to be a little less selfish in my celebration.
Two weekends ago, a close family friend had a birthday party. She throws a big shindig every year for her girlfriends, and this is the first year that I've been able to join along. She's very socially and politically conscious, and tries to add an educational component to each of her parties. This year, before the festivities really got underway, she invited her OB/GYN to come down and give everyone a little talk on how to detect and prevent breast cancer. Before I knew it, I was sitting in a basement surrounded by middle aged women learning the correct way to administer a self breast exam. When I thought about it that way, I'll admit I was more than a little weirded out. But once I stepped back from the situation and thought about it, I realized how selfless that act really was. That my friend wanted to celebrate her birthday by getting the people who matter to her together and teach them life-saving skills.
Just when I thought that I was done with the do-gooding, I was invited to attend a party last week to benefit a campaign at the Maestro's main gig. I love a party just like the next girl, but occasionally I do start feeling like being the Maestro's arm candy is my third full-time job. This party was different, though. One of the Maestro's co-workers actually opened up her home to have a cocktail party for a worthy cause. This isn't the first time that she's done it either. She threw a huge fête for her 50th and requested that all of her guests give money in her honor to the annual fund of their organization.
I don't think that I've ever been that unselfish in my life. Every November I get annoyed by all of the commercialism surrounding the secular Christmas that we celebrate in this country and flirt with the idea of giving alternative gifts to my friends and family. Who knows... maybe this year I flirt a little harder with the idea because of these two awesome ladies.
Two weekends ago, a close family friend had a birthday party. She throws a big shindig every year for her girlfriends, and this is the first year that I've been able to join along. She's very socially and politically conscious, and tries to add an educational component to each of her parties. This year, before the festivities really got underway, she invited her OB/GYN to come down and give everyone a little talk on how to detect and prevent breast cancer. Before I knew it, I was sitting in a basement surrounded by middle aged women learning the correct way to administer a self breast exam. When I thought about it that way, I'll admit I was more than a little weirded out. But once I stepped back from the situation and thought about it, I realized how selfless that act really was. That my friend wanted to celebrate her birthday by getting the people who matter to her together and teach them life-saving skills.
Just when I thought that I was done with the do-gooding, I was invited to attend a party last week to benefit a campaign at the Maestro's main gig. I love a party just like the next girl, but occasionally I do start feeling like being the Maestro's arm candy is my third full-time job. This party was different, though. One of the Maestro's co-workers actually opened up her home to have a cocktail party for a worthy cause. This isn't the first time that she's done it either. She threw a huge fête for her 50th and requested that all of her guests give money in her honor to the annual fund of their organization.
I don't think that I've ever been that unselfish in my life. Every November I get annoyed by all of the commercialism surrounding the secular Christmas that we celebrate in this country and flirt with the idea of giving alternative gifts to my friends and family. Who knows... maybe this year I flirt a little harder with the idea because of these two awesome ladies.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Next up on the social balance game...
I'm going to just come out and say it. I have too many friends. I'm not saying that to toot my own horn or to make myself sound popular. In fact, my packed social calendar is probably detrimental to my closest relationships. It's certainly detrimental to my (at many times non-existent) relationship with my own family.
I'm a social pack rat. I meet people. We become fast friends. I try my darndest to stay in touch with them. But because there are so many people I consider friends, my time outside of the office and theatre is constantly spent trying to spend time with these people. Catching up on old times. Attempting to forge new memories. I make a rotation of people I need to see before the end of the calendar year, and I probably get to 60% of the list. With each passing year, people fall off of my social radar simply because I have no time to invest in a relationship with them, and I feel defeated.
And then there's the Maestro. When we started dating 3.5 years ago, we thought we had a lot of mutual friends. We were only half right. We had a lot of mutual friends, but we had a lot of people in our lives who weren't in that middle section of the Venn diagram. So now all of the Maestro's close friends are my close friends and vice versa. At least the friends who made it through tree-shaking eliminations, that is. So I went from having a few high school friends, and a few more college friends, and music friends, and theatre friends, and musical theatre friends to having to add to that the Maestro's friends. And then we got couple friends and I almost wanted to kill myself. And now that I've stepped back from the ledge, I still find myself ridiculously overwhelmed trying to fit them all in. I might get shot or condemned or whatever for saying this, but I think that being super social can actually be just as lonely as having no friends at all.
This weekend past was the last free weekend before the madness of promotional performances, community outreach, tech rehearsals, and performances for me. It happened to fall in line with the last free weekend before the Maestro's ever-expanding concert season starts. We had plans to go to Kent Island on Friday to visit some friends who are building a new house. If you follow me on Twitter, you might remember on Friday the saga of the 7.5 mile Bay Bridge backup (try saying that three times fast) that caused us to stay in Baltimore instead. We did find a new watering hole that excites me and accidentally bumped into good friends. That little accident scratched them off the list of people to spend QT with before Christmas.
After a four-hour rehearsal on Saturday, I had an evening scheduled to the minute intending to scratch a few more names off the list. I went from a birthday crab feast to dinner with a whole bunch of girls. At said dinner, when I explained why I wasn't particularly hungry but happy to be there nonetheless, one of my dinner companions remarked on how it sounded like I was trying to do too much and say yes to too many people.
Oh friend. How wrong you are! I spend most of my day saying "no" to people I love and care about. I turn down more invitations and proposals than you'll ever know. And still, my heart breaks from this attrition of good quality friends and professional contacts. I guess if I quit theatre or quit my job I could keep up with people better. But then I'd be poor and angry and unfulfilled, and that wouldn't do anyone any good.
So for now, I'll keep on trucking through my list of people to see. I'll try to not accept any applications for new friends. Unless they're bloggy friends, that is. I'm all up for some more of those (hint, hint: De-lurk and say hello some time! It'll brighten my day, I promise you). And next up on the social balance game? Maybe seeing some of my family before Thanksgiving. There's wishful thinking for you.
I'm a social pack rat. I meet people. We become fast friends. I try my darndest to stay in touch with them. But because there are so many people I consider friends, my time outside of the office and theatre is constantly spent trying to spend time with these people. Catching up on old times. Attempting to forge new memories. I make a rotation of people I need to see before the end of the calendar year, and I probably get to 60% of the list. With each passing year, people fall off of my social radar simply because I have no time to invest in a relationship with them, and I feel defeated.
And then there's the Maestro. When we started dating 3.5 years ago, we thought we had a lot of mutual friends. We were only half right. We had a lot of mutual friends, but we had a lot of people in our lives who weren't in that middle section of the Venn diagram. So now all of the Maestro's close friends are my close friends and vice versa. At least the friends who made it through tree-shaking eliminations, that is. So I went from having a few high school friends, and a few more college friends, and music friends, and theatre friends, and musical theatre friends to having to add to that the Maestro's friends. And then we got couple friends and I almost wanted to kill myself. And now that I've stepped back from the ledge, I still find myself ridiculously overwhelmed trying to fit them all in. I might get shot or condemned or whatever for saying this, but I think that being super social can actually be just as lonely as having no friends at all.
This weekend past was the last free weekend before the madness of promotional performances, community outreach, tech rehearsals, and performances for me. It happened to fall in line with the last free weekend before the Maestro's ever-expanding concert season starts. We had plans to go to Kent Island on Friday to visit some friends who are building a new house. If you follow me on Twitter, you might remember on Friday the saga of the 7.5 mile Bay Bridge backup (try saying that three times fast) that caused us to stay in Baltimore instead. We did find a new watering hole that excites me and accidentally bumped into good friends. That little accident scratched them off the list of people to spend QT with before Christmas.
After a four-hour rehearsal on Saturday, I had an evening scheduled to the minute intending to scratch a few more names off the list. I went from a birthday crab feast to dinner with a whole bunch of girls. At said dinner, when I explained why I wasn't particularly hungry but happy to be there nonetheless, one of my dinner companions remarked on how it sounded like I was trying to do too much and say yes to too many people.
Oh friend. How wrong you are! I spend most of my day saying "no" to people I love and care about. I turn down more invitations and proposals than you'll ever know. And still, my heart breaks from this attrition of good quality friends and professional contacts. I guess if I quit theatre or quit my job I could keep up with people better. But then I'd be poor and angry and unfulfilled, and that wouldn't do anyone any good.
So for now, I'll keep on trucking through my list of people to see. I'll try to not accept any applications for new friends. Unless they're bloggy friends, that is. I'm all up for some more of those (hint, hint: De-lurk and say hello some time! It'll brighten my day, I promise you). And next up on the social balance game? Maybe seeing some of my family before Thanksgiving. There's wishful thinking for you.
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
I was in the presence of Clair Huxtable, and all I got was this lousy blurry picture
Yes, indeed... that blurry picture is, indeed, Phylicia Rashad at a podium. How on Earth did I manage to get in her presence, you may ask? A few weeks back, a friend passed me the Kennedy Center magazine with a free concert circled. She asked me to pass it on to the Maestro thinking that he'd either like it or know people who would be interested. The concert was entitled the 105 Voices of History, and it was comprised of singers from all of the nation's HBCUs. It was like kismet because a day later, the Maestro got an e-mail from a friend who was intimately involved with the event inviting us to the VIP reception ahead of time. Yes, yes, my boyfriend is a big deal!
I generally hate driving into the Kennedy Center. They charge you $17 for concert parking, so I generally Metro in. The Maestro figured that we didn't want to Metro in our black-tie-optional fabulousness, so he sprung for parking. I'm so grateful that we went to the VIP reception. Since we did, we didn't have to wait in line for the free tickets. By the time we arrived at 4:15 pm, the line was seriously around the entire Center for people trying to get into the 6 pm concert. We went upstairs to the Terrace Restaurant and sipped wine and munched on really tiny appetizers while we rubbed elbows with choral directors. We were simultaneously subjected to a bunch speeches from people (mostly corporate sponsors) who helped the night happen.
With 20 minutes to spare, we were kind of famished and wound up running to the KC Cafe to grab a more substantial meal. I ate chicken fingers in my ball gown. This is a fact for which I am very proud. It's something I can cross off of my bucket list.
The concert was actually sung very well. Those 105 singers, I'm guessing, are mostly music majors. They sang music composed by dead white guys (Handel, Haydn, et al), music composed by black guys writing in the classical Western style, and spirituals and gospel songs. It would've been the perfect length if there wasn't so much talking in between. I'm not talking about the banter in between sets from Ms. Rashad. That was heavenly. I'm talking about all of the pomp and circumstance from all of the other people. I understand that it's necessary. Corporations donate money to the arts and they want to be recognized for it so that people go out and buy their stuff. It still made for a lengthy evening with no intermission.
We still left with smiles on our faces, as you can see.
Especially towards the end, the 105 Voices of History Choir sang some of my favorites. Especially this one with the composer at the harp:
I was really honored to be invited (even if it was at the Maestro's arm candy... that's practically my third job), and hope to go again next year. I'm sure by then, they will have ironed some of the kinks out. I look forward to hopefully going again next year. It sounds like they're going to make it an annual kind of thing.
Friday, September 5, 2008
I still have the mosquito bites to prove I was there...
I think I've mentioned it a few times in the last few entries, but a good friend (and sister of the Fourth of July groom) got married in an outdoor ceremony on Labor Day.
The ceremony was held outside at a church ampitheatre in picturesque Ellicott City, MD. It seriously couldn't have been a more beautiful day. In fact, I think that people should invite the Maestro and I to their outdoor weddings. We seem to bring good weather with us. The bride's siblings provided the special music during the ceremony on acoustic guitar.
The bride and groom appeared peaceful as they looked on.
The Labor Day bridegroom did two particularly unique things for their atypical wedding:
1. Instead of a guestbook that has the potential to sit on a shelf collecting dust for years to come, the couple asked guests to sign a platter commemorating their day. Every time they have friends over to their new house in North Carolina and pull out this platter, they'll be reminded of their wedding and the people in their lives who love them.
2. Instead of a traditional towering wedding cake, guests enjoyed cupcakes on a tower. I've seen cupcakes on Style network wedding shows recently that have incorporated cupcakes into their dessert scheme, but this still wound up coming off original nonetheless. Cupcakes were yellow with chocolate or white icing and chocolate with chocolate or white icing. When the Maestro asked me what kind of cupcake I wanted, I replied, "The whitest possible cupcake, please!" not realizing how ridiculous I sounded until the words came out of my mouth and several people left the room howling in laughter. The cupcake tower had a huge cupcake with a cake topper at the crest for the couple.
The couple didn't want any big wedding traditions at the reception. There was no garter or bouquet toss, no electric slide. We basically had a picnic on the lawn adjacent to the amptitheatre and the historic Hebron House mansion.
The couple left straight for their Disney honeymoon from the reception. We waited around outside with bottles of bubbles to send them on their way.
The Maestro and I were still smiling by the end of the evening.
I consider that a small victory.
The ceremony was held outside at a church ampitheatre in picturesque Ellicott City, MD. It seriously couldn't have been a more beautiful day. In fact, I think that people should invite the Maestro and I to their outdoor weddings. We seem to bring good weather with us. The bride's siblings provided the special music during the ceremony on acoustic guitar.
The bride and groom appeared peaceful as they looked on.
The Labor Day bridegroom did two particularly unique things for their atypical wedding:
1. Instead of a guestbook that has the potential to sit on a shelf collecting dust for years to come, the couple asked guests to sign a platter commemorating their day. Every time they have friends over to their new house in North Carolina and pull out this platter, they'll be reminded of their wedding and the people in their lives who love them.
2. Instead of a traditional towering wedding cake, guests enjoyed cupcakes on a tower. I've seen cupcakes on Style network wedding shows recently that have incorporated cupcakes into their dessert scheme, but this still wound up coming off original nonetheless. Cupcakes were yellow with chocolate or white icing and chocolate with chocolate or white icing. When the Maestro asked me what kind of cupcake I wanted, I replied, "The whitest possible cupcake, please!" not realizing how ridiculous I sounded until the words came out of my mouth and several people left the room howling in laughter. The cupcake tower had a huge cupcake with a cake topper at the crest for the couple.
The couple didn't want any big wedding traditions at the reception. There was no garter or bouquet toss, no electric slide. We basically had a picnic on the lawn adjacent to the amptitheatre and the historic Hebron House mansion.
The couple left straight for their Disney honeymoon from the reception. We waited around outside with bottles of bubbles to send them on their way.
The Maestro and I were still smiling by the end of the evening.
I consider that a small victory.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
The miracle of life
In the time that we've been friends and subsequently more than that, the Maestro has exposed me to many an experience I might not have had in life otherwise. He's predominately responsible for my love affair with Baltimore City, and he also introduced me to the Maryland State Fair a few years back.
I'm not particularly one for produce or livestock on a regular basis. I have, however, come to appreciate the fact that the fair comes around once a year and it's an excuse to eat fried dough and say goodbye-byes to summer. We went to the fair last Friday after work, and since it was raining like crazy, we grabbed dinner at The Still first with the family.
When the rain died down, we finally headed across the street to the fairground to see as much as we could in the time left. We checked out the produce and home arts. That was all fine and good. But then we grabbed some ice cream and headed to the Cow Palace, which is where the magic happens. They have this thing called the "Birthing Center" where they induce pregnant farm animals so that curious onlookers such as myself can observe a new life coming into the world.
This exact scenario played out as we entered the Birthing Center on Friday night. The men watched for a little bit, but then got distracted by piglets in a nearby pen. We all started losing our patience (cows can be in labor for a long time apparently), so we decided to browse the rest of the livestock while we were waiting for this heiffer to pop.
The Maestro found greatest interest with the pigs. He got super excited when he saw one particular pair of pigs sleeping in the same pen. He called them a 21st century couple.
By the time we got back to mama cow, two hooves were protruding from her backside. 30 minutes later, and there was a baby calf lying on ground of the pen with many a happy onlooker. I think they wound up calling the cute little bull calf "Travis."
I'm surprised PETA wasn't outside picketing the farmers for shipping this poor cow into the fair, inducing her labor, and then putting the birth on public display, but it was definitely a really unique experience. I don't think it's convinced me away from buying a cute little biracial baby off the black market and into pregnancy and childbirth on my own accord, but it was a unique experience nonetheless.
I'm not particularly one for produce or livestock on a regular basis. I have, however, come to appreciate the fact that the fair comes around once a year and it's an excuse to eat fried dough and say goodbye-byes to summer. We went to the fair last Friday after work, and since it was raining like crazy, we grabbed dinner at The Still first with the family.
When the rain died down, we finally headed across the street to the fairground to see as much as we could in the time left. We checked out the produce and home arts. That was all fine and good. But then we grabbed some ice cream and headed to the Cow Palace, which is where the magic happens. They have this thing called the "Birthing Center" where they induce pregnant farm animals so that curious onlookers such as myself can observe a new life coming into the world.
This exact scenario played out as we entered the Birthing Center on Friday night. The men watched for a little bit, but then got distracted by piglets in a nearby pen. We all started losing our patience (cows can be in labor for a long time apparently), so we decided to browse the rest of the livestock while we were waiting for this heiffer to pop.
The Maestro found greatest interest with the pigs. He got super excited when he saw one particular pair of pigs sleeping in the same pen. He called them a 21st century couple.
By the time we got back to mama cow, two hooves were protruding from her backside. 30 minutes later, and there was a baby calf lying on ground of the pen with many a happy onlooker. I think they wound up calling the cute little bull calf "Travis."
I'm surprised PETA wasn't outside picketing the farmers for shipping this poor cow into the fair, inducing her labor, and then putting the birth on public display, but it was definitely a really unique experience. I don't think it's convinced me away from buying a cute little biracial baby off the black market and into pregnancy and childbirth on my own accord, but it was a unique experience nonetheless.
Friday, August 29, 2008
My plea to whomever controls the campus budget for next year
I would make a horrible visual artist. I don't find beauty in many random things. As a result, sometimes I confuse exterior art installations for, well, mistakes. Can someone please tell me if these random bricks lying outside of the theatre are someone's college art project?
And furthermore, can someone explain to me why the powers that be at the institute of higher learning where our theatre is housed decided to lay a random amoeba of concrete in the ground surrounded by a moat of decorative stones?
At least they've placed these beautiful/humongous planters outside of the lobby to try to take away from all of the other randomness that is occuring as one approaches the building.
If the college has money to throw around on random patches of "decorative" cement as it appears they do, I would encourage them to throw a little money my way for a brand new freakin' sound system, please and thank you. Just a suggestion.
In other news, I'll be MIA over the Labor Day weekend. Another friend of mine is getting married. Fifth and final of the summer, thank goodness. A wedding recap will undoubtedly be up some time next week because I know you all are quivering in your boots, eagerly anticipating pictures of me and the Maestro cutting up a rug as grandma jumps up and down to hip hop.
Have a happy and healthy Labor Day weekend!
And furthermore, can someone explain to me why the powers that be at the institute of higher learning where our theatre is housed decided to lay a random amoeba of concrete in the ground surrounded by a moat of decorative stones?
At least they've placed these beautiful/humongous planters outside of the lobby to try to take away from all of the other randomness that is occuring as one approaches the building.
If the college has money to throw around on random patches of "decorative" cement as it appears they do, I would encourage them to throw a little money my way for a brand new freakin' sound system, please and thank you. Just a suggestion.
In other news, I'll be MIA over the Labor Day weekend. Another friend of mine is getting married. Fifth and final of the summer, thank goodness. A wedding recap will undoubtedly be up some time next week because I know you all are quivering in your boots, eagerly anticipating pictures of me and the Maestro cutting up a rug as grandma jumps up and down to hip hop.
Have a happy and healthy Labor Day weekend!
Monday, August 25, 2008
How to vacation on the cheap
I'm baaaaaaaaaaaaaaack! Hopefully someone out there missed me. I must say that this past trip, however mundane some people might think it was, left me recharged. I'm not totally ready to go back to the office, but I'm absolutely stoked about starting rehearsals for A Chorus Line tonight.
Here's a brief (hopefully) recap of the trip with some lessons learned in the process.
We left on Tuesday night after work. The Maestro picked me up, we packed my luggage and clubs in his car and went on our merry way. At about 6 pm on a Tuesday evening, the roads weren't too packed. We headed to Bedford, Pennsylvania and had dinner with some friends from college. We hung around and watched the Olympics with them for a bit, got a tour of their new house, and got back on the road. We arrived in Indiana, Pennsylvania (Maestro's mama's hometown) a little after 11 and found our way to his grandparents' house.
Wednesday, we took our time getting up and Maestro's grandma made us breakfast. In passing, he asked her how long she'd been married to his grandfather, jogging her memory to remind her that today was in fact their 59th wedding anniversary. I'm so glad we kids were around to keep them honest. I lounged around a bit and tried to convince the Maestro's grandfather that Barack Obama doesn't have terrorist ties while Maestro took a walk into downtown Indiana. When we finally got on the road, we drove around for a little bit and then found a Par 3 executive golf course right out of town. Thank goodness it was only par 3 golf... because I haven't golfed in quite awhile. My clubs were dusty and my drive was even dustier. We had fun, nonetheless. We went to a huge church pot luck (300 people... seriously the biggest pot luck I've ever seen in my life) at the Maestro's grandparent's parish. In return for telling the priest that it was their 59th anniversary, he put the Maestro on the spot and had him sing "O Danny Boy" for a riveted audience. The Maestro wasn't pleased, but sometimes you suck it up for the people you love, eh? We came back home and played a round or two of cards with the grandparents and tried to get them to not make out.
Ahhh... young love.
Eventually they came up for air so that I could take a picture with them.
On Thursday, we tried to get an early start so that we could head into Pittsburgh. But by tried, I mean failed, and by "we," I mean the Maestro. We finally headed out a little after noon, and changed plans slightly. We headed instead to Grove City College to visit a friend who had just moved back on to campus for the school year. Clearly, he's getting a lot accomplished at school.
He feigned some excuse about being in some orientation leader skit at school. I'm still thinking about showing his mother and staging an intervention.
We hit the outlets outside the city for a few minutes and then headed back to Indiana to grab dinner with the Maestro's pap pap. Grandma, you see, had abandoned him for the day to go the casinos.
By Friday morning, we still liked one another. This in itself was a small victory as I don't think we'd seen each other that many full days in a row in three months. The Maestro's grandma made us a fantastic breakfast and sent us on our way with a gallon bag full of white chocolate-covered trail mix. I think grandmas secretly want everyone but them to be fat. That woman stuffed me to within an inch of my life over two days. At any rate, we left Indiana and headed for Troy. No, not best friend-of-mine Troy, but Troy, Pennsylvania. It's a pretty long trek, but we took a scenic route and made stops along the way. Noteworthy pit stops were in Punxsutawney (home of Punxsutawney Phil and Groundhog Day) and The Grand Canyon of Pennsylvania. It was a nice leisurely trip.
As we got closer and closer to Aunt Jean and Uncle Dwayne's house, I smelled more pig manure, rode on more dirt roads, and saw more waving Confederate flags than I think I've experienced in my lifetime. My phone lost service, and I'll admit I heard banjos in my head coming after me. When we got to our destination, however, it was great. I haven't seen the stars like I've seen up at their house in years, and it was beautiful to be in the middle of nowhere for a little bit. Aunt Jean cooked us a fantastic dinner and we played a board game and watched the Olympics for a little bit.
When we got up on Saturday morning, we had a hearty breakfast and headed over to a cousin's house and met their new puppies. They were adorable and I begged the Maestro to bring one home. He looked at me like I had crazy all over my face. How can you say no to these little guys, though?
We had one of the most scenic drives home on Saturday. We were a little under the gun, but it was completely worth it.
So what did we learn on our trip?
1. Leave as soon as possible. Being musicians, The Maestro and I are both night owls. We don't have a problem being up late... in fact, we're used to it. Leaving after work afforded us the opportunity to wake up at our first destination. It extended our days of true vacation from three to four solely by getting on the road as soon as we possibly could.
2. Stay with friends and family. We killed two birds with one stone by staying with family: we saved TONS of money that would've otherwise gone to hotel and restaurant bills and got to spend time with friends and family we rarely see. It wasn't our plan to mooch off of people. It was our intention to thank our hosts by taking them out to dinner, but all of them had already made plans to prepare home-cooked meals for us.
3. Don't be afraid to veg out. Not every vacation is about cramming as much as humanly possible into each day. The Maestro and I got a fair amount accomplished, but we also made sleep a huge priority (something we don't get a lot of in our day-to-day lives). I was equally as comfortable in National parks and on the golf course as I was sitting on the couch and walking America's Next Top Model reruns. And I went to bed early (for me) every night to ensure at least 8 hours of sleep.
4. Lay some basic plans, but be flexible. Don't be afraid if it doesn't all get done. This time is supposed to be about relaxing and rejuvenating-- not about crossing line items off a list. We didn't get to Pittsburgh, but we also didn't get upset about it. We found other things to keep us occupied and satisfied.
And there it is, kids. For the price of 3 gallons of gas, and a cheap meal or two on the road, we had an amazingly satisfying getaway. It wasn't a Vegas vacation or trip to Cabo like some of thesmart people with money non-musicians I went to school with are enjoying now, but it was perfect for us.
Here's a brief (hopefully) recap of the trip with some lessons learned in the process.
We left on Tuesday night after work. The Maestro picked me up, we packed my luggage and clubs in his car and went on our merry way. At about 6 pm on a Tuesday evening, the roads weren't too packed. We headed to Bedford, Pennsylvania and had dinner with some friends from college. We hung around and watched the Olympics with them for a bit, got a tour of their new house, and got back on the road. We arrived in Indiana, Pennsylvania (Maestro's mama's hometown) a little after 11 and found our way to his grandparents' house.
Wednesday, we took our time getting up and Maestro's grandma made us breakfast. In passing, he asked her how long she'd been married to his grandfather, jogging her memory to remind her that today was in fact their 59th wedding anniversary. I'm so glad we kids were around to keep them honest. I lounged around a bit and tried to convince the Maestro's grandfather that Barack Obama doesn't have terrorist ties while Maestro took a walk into downtown Indiana. When we finally got on the road, we drove around for a little bit and then found a Par 3 executive golf course right out of town. Thank goodness it was only par 3 golf... because I haven't golfed in quite awhile. My clubs were dusty and my drive was even dustier. We had fun, nonetheless. We went to a huge church pot luck (300 people... seriously the biggest pot luck I've ever seen in my life) at the Maestro's grandparent's parish. In return for telling the priest that it was their 59th anniversary, he put the Maestro on the spot and had him sing "O Danny Boy" for a riveted audience. The Maestro wasn't pleased, but sometimes you suck it up for the people you love, eh? We came back home and played a round or two of cards with the grandparents and tried to get them to not make out.
Ahhh... young love.
Eventually they came up for air so that I could take a picture with them.
On Thursday, we tried to get an early start so that we could head into Pittsburgh. But by tried, I mean failed, and by "we," I mean the Maestro. We finally headed out a little after noon, and changed plans slightly. We headed instead to Grove City College to visit a friend who had just moved back on to campus for the school year. Clearly, he's getting a lot accomplished at school.
He feigned some excuse about being in some orientation leader skit at school. I'm still thinking about showing his mother and staging an intervention.
We hit the outlets outside the city for a few minutes and then headed back to Indiana to grab dinner with the Maestro's pap pap. Grandma, you see, had abandoned him for the day to go the casinos.
By Friday morning, we still liked one another. This in itself was a small victory as I don't think we'd seen each other that many full days in a row in three months. The Maestro's grandma made us a fantastic breakfast and sent us on our way with a gallon bag full of white chocolate-covered trail mix. I think grandmas secretly want everyone but them to be fat. That woman stuffed me to within an inch of my life over two days. At any rate, we left Indiana and headed for Troy. No, not best friend-of-mine Troy, but Troy, Pennsylvania. It's a pretty long trek, but we took a scenic route and made stops along the way. Noteworthy pit stops were in Punxsutawney (home of Punxsutawney Phil and Groundhog Day) and The Grand Canyon of Pennsylvania. It was a nice leisurely trip.
As we got closer and closer to Aunt Jean and Uncle Dwayne's house, I smelled more pig manure, rode on more dirt roads, and saw more waving Confederate flags than I think I've experienced in my lifetime. My phone lost service, and I'll admit I heard banjos in my head coming after me. When we got to our destination, however, it was great. I haven't seen the stars like I've seen up at their house in years, and it was beautiful to be in the middle of nowhere for a little bit. Aunt Jean cooked us a fantastic dinner and we played a board game and watched the Olympics for a little bit.
When we got up on Saturday morning, we had a hearty breakfast and headed over to a cousin's house and met their new puppies. They were adorable and I begged the Maestro to bring one home. He looked at me like I had crazy all over my face. How can you say no to these little guys, though?
We had one of the most scenic drives home on Saturday. We were a little under the gun, but it was completely worth it.
So what did we learn on our trip?
1. Leave as soon as possible. Being musicians, The Maestro and I are both night owls. We don't have a problem being up late... in fact, we're used to it. Leaving after work afforded us the opportunity to wake up at our first destination. It extended our days of true vacation from three to four solely by getting on the road as soon as we possibly could.
2. Stay with friends and family. We killed two birds with one stone by staying with family: we saved TONS of money that would've otherwise gone to hotel and restaurant bills and got to spend time with friends and family we rarely see. It wasn't our plan to mooch off of people. It was our intention to thank our hosts by taking them out to dinner, but all of them had already made plans to prepare home-cooked meals for us.
3. Don't be afraid to veg out. Not every vacation is about cramming as much as humanly possible into each day. The Maestro and I got a fair amount accomplished, but we also made sleep a huge priority (something we don't get a lot of in our day-to-day lives). I was equally as comfortable in National parks and on the golf course as I was sitting on the couch and walking America's Next Top Model reruns. And I went to bed early (for me) every night to ensure at least 8 hours of sleep.
4. Lay some basic plans, but be flexible. Don't be afraid if it doesn't all get done. This time is supposed to be about relaxing and rejuvenating-- not about crossing line items off a list. We didn't get to Pittsburgh, but we also didn't get upset about it. We found other things to keep us occupied and satisfied.
And there it is, kids. For the price of 3 gallons of gas, and a cheap meal or two on the road, we had an amazingly satisfying getaway. It wasn't a Vegas vacation or trip to Cabo like some of the
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Weekends away
Last weekend, O invited me and Troy to join her and her family on a day trip to St. Michael's. I had never been, despite the fact that the Maestro and I have the following conversation EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. we're driving to or from the beach as if the the response is going to change:
I decided to kill my feelings of inadequacy by taking O up on her offer and joining them on their trip. Thankfully, we decided to go the day before this catastrophe happened. We still sat in horrendous bridge traffic without the added mess of an eighteen-wheeler plunging off the side of a bridge.
When we got to St. Michael's, we immediately were thirsty. We grabbed some cocktails and seafood appetizers at an open air bar overlooking the water. Here was our lovely view:
After we had replenished our tanks, we took advantage of the lovely day and walked around. St. Michael's is a historic waterfront town on the eastern shore with tons of character. I won't even hold the fact that Dick Cheney owns property on it against the town.
Here's a pictorial account of our few hours in St. Michael's:
When it started to get dark, we piled back in the truck and headed up the road to Easton (still on the eastern shore, but closer to the Bay Bridge) for dinner. We dined at the Washington Street Pub, which has great burgers, and a very hoppy beer on tap called "The Arrogant Bastard." I would say that St. Michael's is a great place to take a day trip on a nice, temperate summer Saturday, but leave earlier than we did to avoid sitting in line with the rest of the world trying to get to Ocean City via the Chesapeake Bay bridge.
Maestro: Have you ever been to St. Michael's?
Me: Nope.
Maestro: It's really cute. You have to go some time. You're sure you've never EVER been to St. Michael's?
Me: Positive.
Maestro: What kind of Marylander are you? Sheesh.
I decided to kill my feelings of inadequacy by taking O up on her offer and joining them on their trip. Thankfully, we decided to go the day before this catastrophe happened. We still sat in horrendous bridge traffic without the added mess of an eighteen-wheeler plunging off the side of a bridge.
When we got to St. Michael's, we immediately were thirsty. We grabbed some cocktails and seafood appetizers at an open air bar overlooking the water. Here was our lovely view:
After we had replenished our tanks, we took advantage of the lovely day and walked around. St. Michael's is a historic waterfront town on the eastern shore with tons of character. I won't even hold the fact that Dick Cheney owns property on it against the town.
Here's a pictorial account of our few hours in St. Michael's:
When it started to get dark, we piled back in the truck and headed up the road to Easton (still on the eastern shore, but closer to the Bay Bridge) for dinner. We dined at the Washington Street Pub, which has great burgers, and a very hoppy beer on tap called "The Arrogant Bastard." I would say that St. Michael's is a great place to take a day trip on a nice, temperate summer Saturday, but leave earlier than we did to avoid sitting in line with the rest of the world trying to get to Ocean City via the Chesapeake Bay bridge.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Goin' down-ee ocean to see 'em get hitched, hon!
I had another crazy weekend. Surprise surprise. Is anyone surprised at this point? I won't bore you with the dirty details, and I'll cut (for the most part) straight to the fun stuff.
Saturday night after my show, I drove from Baltimore to Ocean City, Maryland (about a 2.5 hour drive without stopping for you non-Baltimoreans) to prepare for the Maestro's brother's wedding. His aunt and uncle rented a beautiful house in Ocean Pines, a suburb of Ocean City that has waterfront property that backs up to the Assawoman Bay (how's that for a body of water?). I got in around 1:30 am, and the Maestro told me that we had a beautiful view of the water, but it was pitch black and I had just about enough energy at that point to brush my teeth and pass out.
When I woke up the next morning, this is what I saw:
Seriously... right off from the back porch. It was about 80 degrees around noon, so I just sat outside in the shade watching the boats go by and pretending to read until I had to get ready for the wedding.
When it came time for the ceremony, I headed over to Ocean City, which is about a 10 minute drive from Ocean Pines. The community of Ocean Pines has a lovely beach club that overlooks the ocean. This is where the couple decided to exchange their vows.
Anyone who knows me knows that I detest the heat, despise sand, and pretty much don't care for Ocean City as it's usually crowded and overrun with a colorful (to say the very least) crowd. While I was looking forward to these nuptials, I was a little skeptical of the whole beach wedding thing as I'd never been to one. While they got married right in the elbow of a dune, the guests got to sit on a boardwalk just above them, so I didn't have to get my tootsies in the sand. It was about 75 degrees and breezy, so I wasn't hot. And the location of the dunes in between 49th and 50th streets was a little off the beaten path, so it was pretty secluded, too. So basically, this wedding foiled all of my complaints about the beach.
The ceremony was meaningful and very personalized to the couple. Instead of a unity candle, they had a sand ceremony (apparently the "in" thing at wedding ceremonies these days) . Mothers of the bride and groom brought colorful vials of sand with them as they were escorted in. When the time came at the ceremony, the bride and groom simultaneously poured their vials of sand into one bottle to signify them coming together as one.
The party afterwards was on the outside deck attached to the beach club. It was small, intimate, casual, and tons of fun. The highlight was the Maestro's grandmother jumping up and down to Kriss Kross' "Jump."
Here are a few more pictures of a "wondah-ful" evening on the water:
Remember these kids from the July 4th wedding? Newlyweds, I've noticed, have a particular glow about them.
The Maestro and I thoroughly enjoyed ourselves
Saturday night after my show, I drove from Baltimore to Ocean City, Maryland (about a 2.5 hour drive without stopping for you non-Baltimoreans) to prepare for the Maestro's brother's wedding. His aunt and uncle rented a beautiful house in Ocean Pines, a suburb of Ocean City that has waterfront property that backs up to the Assawoman Bay (how's that for a body of water?). I got in around 1:30 am, and the Maestro told me that we had a beautiful view of the water, but it was pitch black and I had just about enough energy at that point to brush my teeth and pass out.
When I woke up the next morning, this is what I saw:
Seriously... right off from the back porch. It was about 80 degrees around noon, so I just sat outside in the shade watching the boats go by and pretending to read until I had to get ready for the wedding.
When it came time for the ceremony, I headed over to Ocean City, which is about a 10 minute drive from Ocean Pines. The community of Ocean Pines has a lovely beach club that overlooks the ocean. This is where the couple decided to exchange their vows.
Anyone who knows me knows that I detest the heat, despise sand, and pretty much don't care for Ocean City as it's usually crowded and overrun with a colorful (to say the very least) crowd. While I was looking forward to these nuptials, I was a little skeptical of the whole beach wedding thing as I'd never been to one. While they got married right in the elbow of a dune, the guests got to sit on a boardwalk just above them, so I didn't have to get my tootsies in the sand. It was about 75 degrees and breezy, so I wasn't hot. And the location of the dunes in between 49th and 50th streets was a little off the beaten path, so it was pretty secluded, too. So basically, this wedding foiled all of my complaints about the beach.
The ceremony was meaningful and very personalized to the couple. Instead of a unity candle, they had a sand ceremony (apparently the "in" thing at wedding ceremonies these days) . Mothers of the bride and groom brought colorful vials of sand with them as they were escorted in. When the time came at the ceremony, the bride and groom simultaneously poured their vials of sand into one bottle to signify them coming together as one.
The party afterwards was on the outside deck attached to the beach club. It was small, intimate, casual, and tons of fun. The highlight was the Maestro's grandmother jumping up and down to Kriss Kross' "Jump."
Here are a few more pictures of a "wondah-ful" evening on the water:
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Weekend Excursion Part 2
So when I last left off, the Maestro and I had left the Farmington Club. We had driven Maddie, my poor car, to empty. She kindly informed me that we had 11 miles to find a gas station or the world would come to an end. We filled her up just in the nick of time for $4.11/gallon (because everything is twice as expensive in good ol' Connecticut), punched our destination into the GPS and got going. In Connecticut, where they want to make everything a little prettier, apparently they disguise their cell phone towers by making them look likes trees. I think it's a noble attempt, but still somewhat worthless.
The Maestro had made arrangements earlier in the day for us to "stop by" and "visit" with old friends A & B at their home in Bronxville, NY. He figured that way we could break up the trip back to Baltimore into two smaller stretches, a notion with which I could rightly identify. We made it to Bronxville in about an hour and a half and stopped by a liquor store to pick up a few bottles of wine as a hostess gift for A, who was cooking dinner for us. If you ever have a chance to go, Bronxville is super cute. It's about 8 miles north of NYC, and historic without being sleepy.
We pulled into their drive, and the Maestro turned to me and said, "We have until 8 or 8:30 at the latest and then need to get back on the road." When we walked in, A was busy cooking a huge Italian meal. We sat in the kitchen and drank Tanqueray and Tonics while she prepared our dinner and we caught up. By the time B got home, dinner was ready and the 90 degree heat had subsided, so we sat outside.
We toasted to friends and to food.
We talked about the world and the state of crime and music in Baltimore (where A & B used to live back in the day).
We talked about the economy and the state of academia in New York.
We got a little toasted and then started talking about Israel.
...and then just short of 10:00, the Maestro declared that neither of us was in any state of mind or composure to drive back to Baltimore that night. A & B opened their house up to us for the night. They're the epitomy of hachnassat orchim, Hebrew for hospitality (note: I'm not really that smart. Read Mudhouse Sabbath by Lauren F. Winner to be able to sound as cool as me). I totally look up to them, and want to be like them when I grow up. Well, grow up more than I am now at least.
At any rate, the Maestro had services to play in the morning and I had a relatively early call at the theatre for a matinee, so taking a leisurely summer drive down to Baltimore in the morning was not an option. That's why we'd planned to drive up to Connecticut and back in the same day. No, instead, we had to drive with a purpose. We woke up at 4 am, and got back on the road by 4:20. Around NYC, we got caught in a random flash monsoon that forced us to put the four-way flashers on for about 15 minutes. When the storm cleared, we stopped at the first service area we could find, but even Starbucks wasn't open yet. That's when we knew it was obscenely early. We watched the sunrise on 95 for the second morning in a row as we drove home. We made it in about 3.5 hours with a 10-minute stop to rest the eyes and get coffee.
We got back to Baltimore just in time to catch up a little with Troy, for the Maestro to grab a quick shower, and for me to drop him off at church (remember? his car was dead). I headed home, filled up with gas again (this time at $3.91/gallon. God bless you, Baltimore!), crawled into bed, and dozed off to Whose Wedding is it Anyway for about 90 minutes. Then it was up, shower, theatre, show, train station to deposit the Maestro, back to Baltimore to see Troy's show, out for drinks and appetizers, and home by midnight.
Yes, three days later, I still don't feel like I've caught up on sleep. And to think... this upcoming weekend isn't going to be any better. Shoot me now.
The Maestro had made arrangements earlier in the day for us to "stop by" and "visit" with old friends A & B at their home in Bronxville, NY. He figured that way we could break up the trip back to Baltimore into two smaller stretches, a notion with which I could rightly identify. We made it to Bronxville in about an hour and a half and stopped by a liquor store to pick up a few bottles of wine as a hostess gift for A, who was cooking dinner for us. If you ever have a chance to go, Bronxville is super cute. It's about 8 miles north of NYC, and historic without being sleepy.
We pulled into their drive, and the Maestro turned to me and said, "We have until 8 or 8:30 at the latest and then need to get back on the road." When we walked in, A was busy cooking a huge Italian meal. We sat in the kitchen and drank Tanqueray and Tonics while she prepared our dinner and we caught up. By the time B got home, dinner was ready and the 90 degree heat had subsided, so we sat outside.
We toasted to friends and to food.
We talked about the world and the state of crime and music in Baltimore (where A & B used to live back in the day).
We talked about the economy and the state of academia in New York.
We got a little toasted and then started talking about Israel.
...and then just short of 10:00, the Maestro declared that neither of us was in any state of mind or composure to drive back to Baltimore that night. A & B opened their house up to us for the night. They're the epitomy of hachnassat orchim, Hebrew for hospitality (note: I'm not really that smart. Read Mudhouse Sabbath by Lauren F. Winner to be able to sound as cool as me). I totally look up to them, and want to be like them when I grow up. Well, grow up more than I am now at least.
At any rate, the Maestro had services to play in the morning and I had a relatively early call at the theatre for a matinee, so taking a leisurely summer drive down to Baltimore in the morning was not an option. That's why we'd planned to drive up to Connecticut and back in the same day. No, instead, we had to drive with a purpose. We woke up at 4 am, and got back on the road by 4:20. Around NYC, we got caught in a random flash monsoon that forced us to put the four-way flashers on for about 15 minutes. When the storm cleared, we stopped at the first service area we could find, but even Starbucks wasn't open yet. That's when we knew it was obscenely early. We watched the sunrise on 95 for the second morning in a row as we drove home. We made it in about 3.5 hours with a 10-minute stop to rest the eyes and get coffee.
We got back to Baltimore just in time to catch up a little with Troy, for the Maestro to grab a quick shower, and for me to drop him off at church (remember? his car was dead). I headed home, filled up with gas again (this time at $3.91/gallon. God bless you, Baltimore!), crawled into bed, and dozed off to Whose Wedding is it Anyway for about 90 minutes. Then it was up, shower, theatre, show, train station to deposit the Maestro, back to Baltimore to see Troy's show, out for drinks and appetizers, and home by midnight.
Yes, three days later, I still don't feel like I've caught up on sleep. And to think... this upcoming weekend isn't going to be any better. Shoot me now.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Another weekend, another New England wedding
I'm finally starting to feel like "normal" again. The weekend was a whirlwind, and I hoped to share it earlier, but felt like I'd been hit by a Mack truck until about two seconds ago. So now, for the nuptial roundup. Look for another one this time next week (yes, everyone and their mother is getting married this summer... save for me and Troy).
Getting to this wedding was especially hectic because the Maestro had just returned from a two-week tour of New England and Nova Scotia the night before. I am in the midst of a show. I had a show on Friday night, and he had a concert. We both climbed into our respective beds on opposite sides of the city around midnight and said goodnight.
Fast foward to three hours later. My alarm went off at 3:00 am. I wanted to die. I threw some clothes on, packed breakfast for the Maestro and myself, tore my room apart looking for a necklace that I know I saw a week or two ago when I was cleaning my room, failed to find said necklace and ran out of the door, dress and party shoes in hand.
These shoes are always a conversation piece. And best worn to events where I don't have to stand for longer than 7 minutes at a clip.
I got to the Maestro's house around 4, we transferred all of my stuff to his car, climbed in, and were ready to go.
Except his car wouldn't start. (Funny thing about being on tour for two weeks with no one to start your car... oh well, you live and learn.)
So then we had to re-transfer all our stuff back to my car and get ready to roll. Why were we up at such an un-Godly hour, you may be asking yourself right now? Well, our dear, dear friends decided to have a 10 am wedding mass. In Connecticut. Which, for those of you who didn't do well in geography, is super far away from Baltimore. As both of us had performances on Friday night, we couldn't leave until at least midnight. Rather than driving through the night and still having to pay for a hotel room, we decided (however wisely or unwisely as the case may be) that we would leave super early in the morning and get there right on time.
Well, we would've gotten there right on time had we left at 4 as originally planned. With all of the nutty car complications, we didn't get on the road until almost 4:45. And not anticipating having to drive the 366 miles from East Baltimore to Bristol, Connecticut, I hadn't filled up my tank. The Maestro drives like a bat out of you-know-where, so we decided that he would drive. If I would've driven, we never would've made the ceremony.
We did much better at staying awake once we had some coffee in our system and the sun rose. We got a little turned around on the Jersey Turnpike and hit awful traffic around 8 am in NYC, but other than that, made pretty fantastic time, all things considered. We stopped once for gas and coffee, once to relieve our tiny bladders, and once at a McDonalds off the highway to change into our wedding clothes (talk about awkward glances on that one). Once we got in Connecticut, the drive was especially scenic.
We got to the (beautiful) church about 15 minutes into the service. The Maestro assured me we didn't miss much. It was a lovely, personalized, and meaningful service. And for anyone who cares, the bridesmaids wore midnight blue, strapless, tea-length dresses and silver shoes.
The reception was at the picturesque Farmington Club. I thought it looked like a plantation. The Maestro told me not to worry as we were in Connecticut. You judge for yourself.
The wedding was fun. I've found that, more often than not, they are. We were afraid that we wouldn't know anyone there, and most of the crowd was older. But they sat us at a table with two other friends (of the Maestro) from Maryland and some young-ish teachers from DC. We all had enough in common despite the fact that many of us didn't know each other to make it work. The groom picked the music, and he did a great job of balancing older, classic hits to transcend the major generation gap that was going on amongst their guests.
The bride and groom sat at their own smaller table in lieu of a head table, a trend I'm seeing more of recently, and which I appreciate. It gets annoying going to weddings as the date of someone who's in the wedding party and sitting at some random cast off table with people you don't know. To ensure that they went around to every table to visit with their guests, they brought a tray of homemade cookies and offered them to each table with dessert while they were visiting.
The groom's godmother baked the cookies and the wedding cake, which was carrot cake, which was amazingly delicious.
All in all, we had a great time. The one upside to having such an early wedding is that we got out in plenty of time to drive to our next destination by the light of day. Here we are with our Maryland friends.
I'll save the rest of our excursion for a later post as there's oh-so-much to tell. Meanwhile, I've got to find a new dress for summer wedding number 3 coming up this Sunday.
Getting to this wedding was especially hectic because the Maestro had just returned from a two-week tour of New England and Nova Scotia the night before. I am in the midst of a show. I had a show on Friday night, and he had a concert. We both climbed into our respective beds on opposite sides of the city around midnight and said goodnight.
Fast foward to three hours later. My alarm went off at 3:00 am. I wanted to die. I threw some clothes on, packed breakfast for the Maestro and myself, tore my room apart looking for a necklace that I know I saw a week or two ago when I was cleaning my room, failed to find said necklace and ran out of the door, dress and party shoes in hand.
I got to the Maestro's house around 4, we transferred all of my stuff to his car, climbed in, and were ready to go.
Except his car wouldn't start. (Funny thing about being on tour for two weeks with no one to start your car... oh well, you live and learn.)
So then we had to re-transfer all our stuff back to my car and get ready to roll. Why were we up at such an un-Godly hour, you may be asking yourself right now? Well, our dear, dear friends decided to have a 10 am wedding mass. In Connecticut. Which, for those of you who didn't do well in geography, is super far away from Baltimore. As both of us had performances on Friday night, we couldn't leave until at least midnight. Rather than driving through the night and still having to pay for a hotel room, we decided (however wisely or unwisely as the case may be) that we would leave super early in the morning and get there right on time.
Well, we would've gotten there right on time had we left at 4 as originally planned. With all of the nutty car complications, we didn't get on the road until almost 4:45. And not anticipating having to drive the 366 miles from East Baltimore to Bristol, Connecticut, I hadn't filled up my tank. The Maestro drives like a bat out of you-know-where, so we decided that he would drive. If I would've driven, we never would've made the ceremony.
We did much better at staying awake once we had some coffee in our system and the sun rose. We got a little turned around on the Jersey Turnpike and hit awful traffic around 8 am in NYC, but other than that, made pretty fantastic time, all things considered. We stopped once for gas and coffee, once to relieve our tiny bladders, and once at a McDonalds off the highway to change into our wedding clothes (talk about awkward glances on that one). Once we got in Connecticut, the drive was especially scenic.
We got to the (beautiful) church about 15 minutes into the service. The Maestro assured me we didn't miss much. It was a lovely, personalized, and meaningful service. And for anyone who cares, the bridesmaids wore midnight blue, strapless, tea-length dresses and silver shoes.
The reception was at the picturesque Farmington Club. I thought it looked like a plantation. The Maestro told me not to worry as we were in Connecticut. You judge for yourself.
The wedding was fun. I've found that, more often than not, they are. We were afraid that we wouldn't know anyone there, and most of the crowd was older. But they sat us at a table with two other friends (of the Maestro) from Maryland and some young-ish teachers from DC. We all had enough in common despite the fact that many of us didn't know each other to make it work. The groom picked the music, and he did a great job of balancing older, classic hits to transcend the major generation gap that was going on amongst their guests.
The bride and groom sat at their own smaller table in lieu of a head table, a trend I'm seeing more of recently, and which I appreciate. It gets annoying going to weddings as the date of someone who's in the wedding party and sitting at some random cast off table with people you don't know. To ensure that they went around to every table to visit with their guests, they brought a tray of homemade cookies and offered them to each table with dessert while they were visiting.
The groom's godmother baked the cookies and the wedding cake, which was carrot cake, which was amazingly delicious.
All in all, we had a great time. The one upside to having such an early wedding is that we got out in plenty of time to drive to our next destination by the light of day. Here we are with our Maryland friends.
I'll save the rest of our excursion for a later post as there's oh-so-much to tell. Meanwhile, I've got to find a new dress for summer wedding number 3 coming up this Sunday.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
