In Which Izzybella Does the Babble-Ramble Tango

I was really tired on Saturday afternoon and when I'm tired I get the giggles really easily. Usually I will collapse into giggles over something not at all funny. Or maybe just a little bit funny--the kind that makes me smirk a little, but not laugh out loud. But on Saturday, I had a full-blown giggling fit. It started with my stepmother spotting what she calls a woody-one of those old-fashioned station wagons with faux woodgrain side panels. Because I'm Dirty! that always cracks me up. She honestly doesn't get why that's funny, which is sort of cute and endearing. But the second the first giggle escaped my lips, my dad (also apparently Dirty!) snickered too. Then right afterwards we passed a telephone repairman balancing a long pole and the monster said, "My, that telephone man has a long pole!" And I lost it. I pretty much giggled hysterically for about a half-hour while my parents looked on, bemused.

We had a MoMentuM meeting yesterday. S managed to keep us on track, a task which is kind of difficult lately. For some reason I have no focus these days. Last Tuesday when we were supposed to rehearse two of my scenes, we chose to talk about other stuff instead (e.g. the wasting of time). In fairness to me, my scene partner for the second scene was sick and couldn't make it. But that doesn't excuse my complete lack of motivation to rehearse the scene I do by myself. It's really ridiculous. So yay for S being all focused and on-task. She rules.

I was talking with my co-worker E this morning and she was lamenting that she couldn't act. Now I happen to believe everyone has a little bit of actor in them. Just look at how easily and naturally children slip into another world--no advanced actor training needed at all. Betty Buckley schmuckly. (that was such a good workshop...I love her.) Now this particular person has a lovely singing voice and is part of a gospel band with her family. I was trying to express how my very favorite musicians and singers move me because I believe that they believe what they're singing. For example E is a gospel singer and she feels passionate about the music because she has a strong belief in God. But what if an athiest sang gospel? Would she find the same song moving? I don't think so because the athiest wouldn't believe what they were singing. I know that's a simplistic take on acting and it goes a bit deeper, but if I were to boil it down to one single aspect it would be that. Skilled actors believe what they're saying and doing is true, which enables an audience to believe it too. Thus ends my brief (thankfully) foray into performance philosophy.

My stepmonster bought me the new Kelly Clarkson CD. Just out of the blue. I like Kelly Clarkson,actually-I bought the Breakaway CD and have enjoyed it. I just thought it was cute that she did that. And then when I tried to thank her, she was all "whatever" like it wasn't a big deal even though this is a type of thing she rarely does. She's so odd. Probably why we get along so well. I haven't listened yet but I read the inside jacket. It's like Kelly went back to 1993 and visited Alanis Morrissette. Very angry. I'll play it later today.

Okay, must get back to this work thing. I now return you to your regularly scheduled day. Tired? Have an impossibly large amount of caffiene and sugar. It's what I would do.

Random Thoughts and a Damn Good Idea

I had breakfast with my parents this morning. I love going out to breakfast because I enjoy eating all those breakfasty foods (eggs, bacon, toast) but I loathe making them. So eating out for breakfast is always good fun. Having said that, my advice to all and sundry is be sure and dry your hair before you go to the restaurant. This has nothing to do with fasion and everything to do with if-you-don't-your-hair-will-smell-like-bacon-all-day. Seriously. I want another shower. Or at the very least a shampoo.

I'm at work right now. Had a few more things to do before the mass of teenagers arrives here on Monday. If I didn't mention it before (and I'm sure I have 'cause for some reason I'm really whiney about it this year) I am on the planning and implementation committee for a conference held annually for teenagers aging out of foster care. These are GREAT kids and the purpose of the conference is to direct them to support systems that will be available when they age out and educate them on life skills. We also try to show them a good time.

This year, we're taking the kids to Six Flags. In years past, they did this and the kids loved it. But a few years ago, the budget people in Austin dictated that state funds couldn't be used for large amusement parks, even it was for the teenagers in care. So we did other less expensive things we could find ways of justifying. The kids always had a good time, but they made it clear on the conference evaluations (yes, we really do read them) that they wanted Six Flags back. Fortunately, some volunteers stepped up to the plate and offered to pay for the kids, so we didn't have to use the budget money. So the kids get Six Flags this year and I get five hours to catch up my sleep. Or you know, set up for the evening workshop. Whatever. :)

Anyway, I came into the office to work on some last minute conference stuff. Plus I need to put together materials for the lead adult rep for each region. I'm hoping to leave by about 11:00 or so, so I suppose I should stop blogging and start working. That'd be novel, wouldn't it.

Won't be online much this week-the conference ends on Wednesday and then I'm taking the rest of the week off for rest, relaxation and Pedicure Friday. Hey, that should be a national holiday. Pedicure Friday. I really like the idea. Everyone gets a paid day off to go get a pedicure. Or sleep in if they aren't fans of the pedicure. Whatever. Granted, it's not as meaningful as say, Memorial Day, when we remember and honor our military men and women who died in service of our country. Or Mother's Day, when we suck up to Mom and buy her flowers and candy in order to appease her for the crappy way we treat her the rest of the year. Kidding-that's my step-mother's rant, not mine. Besides I just gave her a used card and a $5 Sonic gift card. What? The card was Hallmark and all. And very funny, honest. I would like to tell you I was kidding about the Sonic gift card, but I'm not. I really truly bought her that. It's an inside joke. Trust me-she laughed. And hey, Mom got actual flowers. And a loving long-distance telephone call. I swear. Anyway the point is if we have a whole week for broccoli, why not one little day for pedicures? It would make the world a much happier place.

Okay, I'm outta here. Be good.

Fun With Monsters

I got up yesterday at 4:30 (ish) in the morning to take my step-mother to the hospital for surgery. Minor surgery, but still the kind that requires an anesthesiologist and generally produces at least a low-level panic in the victim/patient (which ever way you look at things). Random thoughts and moments from my long day—

4:30 a.m. - Alarm. Damn. I’ll get up in a minute.

4:40 a.m. - Fine. I’m awake. Stupid freaking surgery.

5:10 a.m. - I really like driving this hour of the day. Well, okay, not as much as I enjoy being asleep this hour of the day, but we were on major highways, and there were hardly any other cars on the road. I tell my stepmother I should get a job where I go to work at 5:00 a.m. and leave at 2:00 p.m. before traffic begins sucking. She laughs hysterically at the idea of me actually getting up that early every morning and then thanks me for the distraction.

5:40 a.m. - We are sitting at the registration booth at the Emergency room of Baylor Medical. We have to check in here because the front desk will not open for another 2 hours and 20 minutes. The monster realizes that she forgot to “mark her foot” with ink. While I am slightly disturbed that they need her to remind them which foot they are operating on, she grosses out both the receptionist and me by sticking her bare foot on the desk, grabbing the pen attached to the sign in clipboard and marking a big black ‘X’ on her right foot. The receptionist says nothing, but at as we walk to the lab, I see her toss the pen and attach a new one to the clipboard.

6:45 a.m. – An orderly whisks the monster away and directs me to the waiting room, where another family has already gathered. They are passing time by talking about American Idol (they like Doolittle best—I haven’t seen it this year, so can’t comment). I pretend to be reading the newspaper, but am actually eavesdropping like crazy. I was in this scene study class with Betty Buckley and one of our assignments was to observe someone in a waiting room and then come back and interpret it. It felt creepy then, and still feels creepy. It occurs to me that I am a creep. I am now embarrassed and begin reading the newspaper in earnest.

7:15 a.m. – The waiting room telephone rings and a guy from the AI group runs to answer it. His face falls momentarily and then he looks at me and asks if I’m Elizabeth. I nod and take the phone from him gingerly, feeling irrationally guilty that it was for me and not good news for him. Monster is fine, but they’re running a bit late. They will call me when they start.

7:50 a.m. – The phone rings for the second time. The same guy answers it and the process is repeated as he passes the phone off to me again. They’ve started and will call me when they’re finished. I decide to go eat breakfast in the cafeteria. The café employee looks like she’d rather be just about anywhere else. She takes my order without comment and rings in my sale. As she gives me back my change, she erupts into a massive coughing fit. Turns out she’s sick as a dog and will be leaving as soon as her co-worker arrives. My one egg fried over-hard suddenly seems very yucky. I add an individual box of cereal and milk to my order.

8:25 a.m. – Back in the waiting room, the telephone rings again. AI guy looks at me, shrugs his shoulders, and I go and answer the phone instead. He watches me expectantly and his face falls again as he realizes the phone call is once again for me. They’ve finished and she has been moved to the recovery room. They ask me to meet the doctor in the patient consultation room right away. He is very nice and likeable and tells me the surgery went very well and he expects she’ll be up and about in no time. He gives me a few discharge instructions and we chit-chat a bit longer before he walks me back to the waiting room. He says the nurse will call in about 45 minutes or so and I will be able to see her at that time.

9:01 a.m. – I am engrossed in the October travel issue of National Geographic (Seriously, I want to go to Patagonia) when the phone rings again. AI guy looks at me. I tell him it won’t be for me quite yet and he practically leaps to the phone and answers it. His face falls again, and he hands the phone off to an older man sitting by himself in the corner. I smile sympathetically at AI guy and he heads back to his family to continue their discussion on why-Taylor-Hicks-should-never-have-won.

9:15 a.m. – Phone rings again; AI guy totally ignores it, and I wonder, as I cross to the phone, if this is a new tactic. Maybe he thinks that if he pretends the phone call is not important to him, it might be for him this time. It isn’t. It’s for me. Monster is back in her room in day surgery and ready to see me. I put the National Geographic back in the magazine rack and turn to leave. AI guy waves at me, but then his smile falters a bit, as the phone rings again. I answer it and then grin at him. It’s for him. He takes the phone from me eagerly and I leave the waiting room.

10:00 a.m. – Monster is great. She’s totally mellow like she is on Christmas day after about four whiskey sours. I consider asking for a rent decrease right then and there, but decide that would be taking unfair advantage.

3:00 p.m. – Monster is annoying the holy frakkin’ crap out of me as she keeps getting up and trying to do things around the house. I force her to sit back down and she glares at me before suddenly turning back into nice monster again. She falls asleep in the middle of Ellen and snores loudly. As if on cue, one of our labs, Cydney begins snoring too. I’m hard pressed to decide who the better snorer is. It’s sort of cute.

6:00 p.m. – I consider beating Monster with a stick, but I’m a strictly non-violent sort of person, and besides I usually like her very much. I become really smug when Dad sides with me and Monster gives in with bad grace. She’s not at all tired. Her foot feels fine. But okay, fine, if we want to be that way… We do.

I was so glad when yesterday ended. Today looks to be busy, as I have to go to work after work, but I’m okay with that. Because Dad is home with Carol and he gets to fight with her all day instead of me. That works really well for me.

I Love Sundays

Sundays are great. They involve a much bigger-than-usual newspaper to peruse, the smell of Columbian coffee brewing, shared blueberry English muffins, and cuddly puppy dogs who wag their tails at the slightest provocation. It really has been a nice day. At the moment I'm sitting here at the computer with one of the aforementioned puppy dogs laying beside me. The other dog is in the living room, no doubt, laying half-in/half-out of her bed. She's adorable, but she's rather inelegant when she sleeps.

My arm hurts today, a direct result of fighting and, ultimately vanquishing, the refrigerator monster living in Chaucerian Girl's fridge. I feel mighty. Chaucerian Girl is doing all kinds of neat things to her home. I especially like her Egypt room. I'm not clever enough to come up with themes for each room in my house. I pretty much limit myself to bedroom. Living room. Kitchen. Etc. You get the picture. Chaucerian Girl, however, has a good eye for that kind of stuff. If the writing doesn't pan out (and it will), she could probably make a decent living as an interior decorator. I know the end result will justify the work and I have to say it's kind of fun being a part of the process.

Have you ever had one of those days where everything, no matter how frankly un-funny or mundane, is suddenly hilarious? See, I totally had one of those days. I know when I type this out, it will seem only stupid and remarkably not funny, but at the time? I was laughing so hard there were tears. I went grocery shopping with the parents and we were beyond silly. I have no idea what got into us. First, my stepmother cannot pass by one of those cute little animated/motion toys without pressing the button and watching it go. (by the by, Chaucerian Girl is the same way. Why is this???) Kroger had this little stuffed Scooby Doo who sang along with "Why Do Fools Fall in Love?" The first time it hit the chorus, the little Scooby voice said, "rI, ron't know..." and for some reason it struck me as really funny and I collapsed into a fit of giggles. Then my dad went off on a tangent about people and cell phones. He loathes it when people have cell phones attached to their ear like some strange appendage. So I pulled out my cell phone while we were standing there and called him. The monster found this tremendously amusing. After that, we were arguing about whether we should take the free Dryer's ice cream offer:

Stepmonster: We don't have room in the freezer.
Me: But it's free!!!
Stepmonster: We don't have room in the freezer.
Me: But it's free!!!!!!

At which point the ice cream slipped out of her hands and fell on the floor. I picked it up in a huff and told her if she didn't want the damn ice cream, she should have said so, but throwing it on the floor was kind of rude. At this point, she collapsed into giggles. This was followed by more joking and even more giggling, prompting several people to steer their carts way clear of the crazies in the ice cream aisle. And see? I just read what I wrote. Not funny. But it was at the time. Honest. You had to be there.

Well, there's considerably more Sunday left and I don't feel like spending it on the computer. I have a couple of Netflix flicks waiting. Or I could read a book? Hmmm.... I so very love Sundays.