so much to say, but i'm in a rush.

at the moment, i am rushing. rushing to make it, to the train station, to the costume department, to rehearsal, to work, to uni. i am rushing to bed to get as much sleep as i can possibly squeeze in, in readiness to rush right back out of it.

and when people ask me how i am, i am fine, i am busy, i am happy. but when i have a moment or two, moments just enough to dwell and consider, i am not fine. fine is not a word that describes anything remotely close to what i am. i am reaching my potential. i am allowing opportunities in, and i am not saying no. i am feverishly working to say yes, to everything, to everyone, so that i can help the people around me to reach their potential. the show in particular has a potential that needs to be reached. and we are reaching it, but it takes rushing to get there. and every now and then, when these one-or-two brief moments align to allow me to breathe, to think, i realise that the real world, however it looks, is out there somewhere. and when i have time to slow down, i would like to reside somewhere in that real world.

and there is so much i want to share. like my birthday, or our trivia night, or my stint on sbs television, or being back at uni (can i get a halleluya?), or just how flipping good it feels to have something to rush for, to work hard and heavy for. but for now, i am happy to stay in my busy little cocoon, busting my moves to get it all done. and to leave y'all with a happy little montage of rehearsal snaps from this weekend.

octave theatre presents floyd collins, 17-21 august @ chapel off chapel

if you've learned something (anything) from my little blog this past almost-year, then trust me. this is a show that, no matter how many times you've seen it (say, four times in one week, for example), will still make you weep hard and laugh hard and think really, really hard. i love a show that encourages a little self-discovery. obviously.

--R.

the universe gives.

when it's cold out, and you're snuggly and warm inside, and your sister sleeps on the couch next to you, and you remember that you have to venture out into that cold to return her whence she came, well...

the universe gives.





a mist in st kilda like i have never seen before.
to the point that i was excited. and a little scared.
to the point that the whole four minute drive home, i continued to exclaim, over and over, "have you ever seen anything like this before!? in st kilda!? in the dark!?"
and, like children, we gasped and giggled each time we noticed something else amazing about the deep, dense fog. sillhouettes. the blurring of the street lamps. the way car headlights seemed to operate like follow spots, sharply cutting through the night, their edges crisp and tangible.

wow. the universe gives.



-- R.

when life gives you crumbled cupcakes, make cakeballs. (also known as the very long post that doesn't say too much).

a couple of days ago one of our all-time favourite cast members turned 30. and at octave theatre, well, we celebrate milestones. even if there are only three people called for a rehearsal. so i went about making this hellish recipe for devil's food cupcakes (see what i did there?). and for the amount of butter, sugar and actual lindt chocolate that went into the batter and the icing, well, you'd expect them to taste... orgasmic. or at least good. and given that ella couldn't even identify what they were supposed to be, i'm guessing that this recipe will not be making its way onto my frequently baked list. 


anyway. instead of curving upwards like regular, happy cupcakes (an upside down smile, if you will), they totally flopped and caved in on themselves, creating some very sad looking craters (you might refer to them as upside down frowns...). and to make matters worse, the cupcake tops all spread out over the muffin pan and made for one giant, deformed cupcake top, connecting the twelve round little bodies that lay beneath. 


needless to say this impatient brute could not get them all out in one piece. so. i salvaged those that i could. and i did what i could with them (that is, to turn them into unidentifiable, weird-shaped brown muffin things with a chocolate freckle on top). and as for the rest, well, i nearly hurled the tin with the mess of crumbled cupcake stuck in its caverns at my kitchen wall. but i had already created so much mess with the recipe (like, we're talking six different bowls, some of them washed and re-used mid recipe... i'm normally a one-bowl-wonder kinda gal) that i was too tired/traumatised to think about washing down a wall of cupcake splatterings. 


(wow this is getting long). so instead. inspired by our special friend shara all the way over in san diego, i scooped the cupcake shards out of their cocoons, crumbled them into the bowl of leftover icing, and beat like hell. then, i took the sloppy mixture, rolled it into balls, and froze. today, i melted more chocolate, dipped each little ball in, and voilà. cakeballs. 



now, maybe i'm a bit behind with the times, because these cakeballs certainly feel very... "seventies novelty food". but i have to say, they were delicious. and moist. (and kinda weird, but for the sake of the blog and where this whole thing is headed, let's just pretend they were immaculate okay?). 


practically speaking, next time your cake flops, do this. it saves you from throwing out a perfectly good cakeball cake. and, metaphorically speaking, i mean come on... when your cake flops, make cake balls! it doesn't get more afterschool special than that. it's all about seeing the potential in our own failures. and not taking it all too seriously.


and that's the end of the (very long, overkilled) story.
and happy birthday to karl. you see what i went through for you?


-- R.

something to be proud of

while i was moonlighting as a single toorak mother, i found a moment to squeeze in a photoshoot for the show we're working on at the moment.

tyson was a great sport, letting me dribble fake blood (chocolate syrup and red food dye) on his hands, and lying on the concrete in the middle of a cold, cold night. and in the end, the best shot was one that incorporated neither of these things. 'cus that's just how i roll.

and i'm really really proud of this image. but what i'm especially excited about is the show it promotes. i caught a sneak peak of a couple'a scenes tonight and, boy oh boy. the acting sent shivers down my spine. actual shivers down my actual spine.

soon i'll plug the show right here and ask y'all to book your tickets. but for now, just the image. tinkered with by the magnificent karl, who made it feel more cave-y (quite important to the plot, as you'll see when you come watch it. not that i'm pluggin' it tonight.)



and if, for whatever reason, you're feelin' clicky, and you'd like to know more, well then, here you go. and i'll plug it another time. not tonight.


-- R.

and then there was music. and it was good.

well, i may not exactly be what you'd call tech-savvy (in fact, i spent the better part of an hour yelling at the screen and skov yesterday when google decided to split my account in two... surprisingly or not, it didn't help even a little bit). but i've worked out how to add a new somethin'-somethin' to you, dear blog. now you make noise. pretty noise. and i like it.


(if you, too, are a technological bubba amongst us, then scroll down to the bottom of the page to check out my new playlist function. it should start automatically when you visit.)

it's the kind of noise that makes me want to put on red lipstick and pout my lips and play the role of rearview mirror self-seductress. don't mind if i do.


last night, the beginning of goodbyes to the beautiful jodi, who is embarking on her own ballistically brave journey this week.




and if the music and the lipstick don't get you in the mood, then this just might...
is there anything better in this world than melted cheese? puh-lease. i think not.


and finally, as if that wasn't enough, this is gone...



and, with a second coat of moxa happily slapped on this afternoon, my tortured, pulled-apart, plastic-ed living room has almost returned to its former normality.


well, cat has bullied her way onto my lap, is purring incessantly and is begging for attention. i will happily comply. and with that, i bid you adieu.

-- R.

meaningful connections

the number of times i wrote that phrase, "meaningful connections", throughout my education degree would make you want to vomit. but actually, now that i think about it, i think it was perfectly proportional. i found myself typing that string of 21 letters and a space over and over.... soandso argues that it is important to.... in order for students to make meaningful connections with the content of their work, their peers, and their environment..." 

and i felt like a hack writing the same thing over and over. but i had to. because in the above sentence, the "soandso" can be replaced with the name of every educational theorist, philosopher, working teacher and downright nice guy that walked the planet in the last hundred years. (and that's alotta people.)

and my previous entry gave me a little mini aha moment (thanks oprah). i started by writing about that washer. the one that i removed from the shower head to fix the water pressure. and i made a (you guessed it) meaningful connection with my life. remove the washer. the thing that is making the water flow slowly. remove the washer.

sounds crazy and over-analytical, i know. but hear me out. i think that, no matter who you are, no matter how you're feeling -- whatever the overarching mood is in your life for the moment, we can all do with a bit of self-reflection. think about what it is that is preventing you from achieving something. whatever that something is. mine is simple. being able to be happy on my own. to make myself happy. so that i can make the most of this one wild and precious life unconditionally. and what is it that is preventing me from achieving it? well, i'm sure there are a few things. but the things that stand out most of all right now, are giving myself credit, feeling worthy, and being independent.

and since yanking that washer out of that showerhead, i've felt a gush of the latter. independence. i am capable, i am intelligent and i am perfectly able to control my own pathway. i don't need other people to do it for me (of course it is nice to have support and a bit of love along the way...) and knowing that, well, knowing that makes me feel good. which is a nice change from the previous couple'a months.

and speaking of nice changes...


that there's the gash.

this here's what we used to cover it. moxa. i just looked up the name of the colour in the hopes that it would make some meaningful connection to my life, but the best it came up with was an industrial ethernet service. well. whatever, universe. i don't even care.


this one was quite happy to supervise while this one rolled himself into a moxa-induced frenzy.

and no, the wall doesn't look perfect. there is still a noticeable mound where the scar now lies, running from top to bottom. but it's a bit of a battle wound. and in all of its imperfection, i love it.

and that's that.

-- R.

and the inspiration begins to roll

earlier this year, i complained about having been in a rut for a couple of weeks. well.
let me tell you a little something about the last two months or so.
let me tell you about all the things i've done, all the things i've been inspired by, all the meals, the photos, the exciting moments, the happiness and all that jazz....



and i'm done.
because i saw that two week rut, and i raised it a month and a half. and here's bloody well hoping it ended today. and all because of a tiny little washer part in my shower head. which i removed. and baby, the removal of that tiny little washer, well, it let the water flow. it flowed harder and faster than it has in the two years that we've been living here. and as it beat on my back, i was totally inspired. inspired to change, inspired to grow out of the muddiness in which i've been hibernating and bloom, baby.

and when girlfriend's had a good shower, it's gunna be a good day. starting with husband handing in his final essay. ever. full stop the end no more essays ever in his life (until next degree...). and then, i fixed our wall. ya know, just fixed it. it had a giant gash in it (partly caused by damp, partly caused by me obsessively peeling the swollen paint). said gash had been partially repaired by a plasterer who abandoned us mid-job. and because i was inspired, and because i was running on the recent memory of a brilliant shower, i drove to the hardware store, bought the materials and instruments, and finished the job.


and maybe while i was at the store i picked out paint samples. and maybe in 48 hours, when the filler is dry, i might just sand back my work and paint the entire wall a brand new colour. and maybe that's where change and growth starts, and maybe who knows where it ends.

today, we also finally finally settled on our loan. so now we and the bank proudly own this beautiful, imperfect, perfect little apartment. with all its gashes and cracks, its stains and its pulled, thready carpet. and we love it. because it lets us be home. and it lets us have bangin' showers (at least from now on).


it's been a great day. and no more lame, novel "challenges" or "countdowns". they don't work for me. because, like i've just said, there is no end point, and there shouldn't be. if i name a day or a time or a size or an event, i will never be happy. because the growth and change will stop there. and i want it to keep rolling on and on.

no photos today, but who knows... maybe tomorrow. when the inspiration continues to roll.

-- R.

t minus 93 days.

it's simple. i start placement in 93 days. so in 93 days my world will stop for a new challenge (well, at least a new try at an old challenge). and i would like to squeeze the most out of my time in the meanwhile.

so, in the spirit of guiding my own journey, i'm setting a task or ten.

wake up early. go to gym or get out in the real world for some exercise. eat well. be good to myself. take a photo. blog about it. every single day. for 93 days.

and then maybe i will feel more ready. or at least satisfied.

-- R.

a road trip, a road trip.

to the blue mountains. driving, singing, forgetting lyrics, antiquing, sleeping, fine dining, pubbing, laughing, playing, winning, (losing), caving, strolling, conquering small fears, seeing beautiful things, (trying to see certain beautiful things despite inconvenient fog), enjoying simple things and simple time and simple life.

-- R.

breaking promises

i make promises to myself all the time. and i break them. and probably the guilt of breaking promises is only enhanced by the promise i make to not break them anymore. the cycle perpetuates... and i get down.

i promised myself on the eve of 2011 to be good to myself. or something like that. and i've broken that promise, so many times. i've beaten myself up about small things, and i've failed to treat my body like a temple, and i've lacked motivation and gotten angry over unimportant matters. and these are all things that make me sad and are not good to me or for me. and i feel myself slowly but surely etching a path back towards old habits.

so today, just now, when i thought i might just wallow for another few days, at that very moment, i stopped. and i stood up and walked - nay, stampeded - toward the computer. because i'm not gonna break this promise i made. the one to blog it out. it's worked before. it helps to put something down on the virtual page. to get something out of my muddled mind, and allow it to begin to straighten itself out in the stark white silence of the screen.

i suppose now i should say what i'm bloggin' it out about. well, truth be told, i don't really know where to start. or maybe i just don't know. but, in the interest of not breaking another promise to myself (no censoring my thoughts here), i'll let the thoughts flow. excuse me for a moment...

i've been here before, at this point of i've come so far and have been complimented and told i should be proud. and then something happens. and i take some sort of small step backwards, away from full recovery. but i know that i can pull myself back, and i say "tomorrow" and "tomorrow" but tomorrow never comes. and all of a sudden i'm back where i came from. and i stay there for so long. and then it's so hard and so much work to fix. and, in the first place, i wasn't finished yet. not satisfied, still so much work to be done. and then i'm back to the beginning. and recovery is a world away and the cycle, once more, perpetuates. and, in fact, if i'm being perfectly honest, it's not just back to the same place each time. it gets worse. and i can't afford to go backward to a worse place than i've been before. because i might not ever return.


i put that rant in small text so that you can choose to skip over it. because, despite promises, it is slightly censored and therefore more-than-slightly obscure. but, if you read it and it means something to you, then good. and, in the interest of acknowledging the censorship thing, there are just some thoughts in my head that don't need to be shared. not with you, anyway.

ok, so now we try to learn a lesson here. promises get broken, and i tend to become overly disappointed with myself. yes, that's true, but how can i develop positive behaviours to kickstart a changed outlook that might just break the cycle? there's a person i need to talk to. i need to do that. and there's a gym that needs to see me. i need to do that too. and there are three piles in my study that need attending to asap. and maybe all these things, in conjunction, can join in a powerful force to uplift me. just a little. just enough for a kick up the bum.

and now, another small rant in response to that other small rant. and by small, i mean small text.

rebecca. learn from your mistakes. stop worrying about screwing up. take a deep breath, smile, and allow yourself to be human. but when you wake up every morning, you need to look in the mirror and see-who-you-want-to-be. stop getting dressed in leggings and runners with the very strong idea that are definitely not going to go to gym. instead, just go. because that's who you want to be. you've got the music, you've got the ability, you've got the goddamn membership. just go. and make that call. setlle that issue. set aside time for yourself but not too much and not for too long. you'll appreciate it when you don't have it anymore, and by then it'll be too late. you're worth so much more than you are right now giving yourself credit for. stop being intimidated by new things, different things. instead of saying "tomorrow" try saying "today".


the moral of this story is that it is good to be aware of the promises that i make to myself, but it is also good to view them as more of a guideline than the be-all-and-end-all of my life. i won't stop making them. and i probably won't stop breakin' them, either. but that's okay. we're not one of us perfect. and the strength of my character is not determined by how well i uphold my promises, but but rather how i pick myself up after i've broken them.

-- R.

the potential in mess

just a quickie. because i walked into the house, with a gorgeous outfit, freshly splurged on and ready to dazzle for justine and ricky's engagement party come saturday night, and i was feeling rather put together. we're talking, matching shoes and belt, ladies and gents. i got serious at chadstone. anyway. i fashion paraded it for the mother (mandatory in my family), and we were both feeling quite chuffed with my selection. and as i journeyed home, i mused over this new sense of sophistication and how sheer black pantyhose can really make you feel grown up and ladylike. i was, indeed, so busy musing over this fact in wonderment that i felt rudely and abruptly interrupted when i walked into this:



and this:


and this:

the kind of mess that stops you in your tracks. where loungerooms have become a giant drying rack and studies are merely a storage facility for gig gear and kitchens are covered in freshly washed dishes (turns out, these things don't put themselves away...)

anyway. after my horrified face returned to its previous state of put-togetherness and sophistication, i had a giggle. and i took some pictures. and i looked at the bench in the study and saw the potential for a clean, immaculate situation there. i mean, the books are stacked in height order, and the filing system in the shelves works (but for that we would use it a bit more...).

and the mess in the lounge? all those clothes? i saw the potential for a drawer full of clean, fresh-smelling socks. and the potential to be choosing my favourite pair of undies come morning, instead of the bottom-of-the-pile dregs i've been dealing with for the past two days.

anyway, you get the picture. i'm dragging on. the kitchen mess means we can make good food again, we get it. shut up now. ok i will (but stop being so rude please).

seriously though, every now and then, it helps to be able to look up from the mess and see the potential of what lies within the mess. sometimes literally, like tonight, but moreso in a metaphorical way, ya know?

and that, my friends, is how you turn a quickie post into a very very long one.

sayonara. (ok really, stop now.)

-- R.

what a week for friends of mine

victoria goldberg. if that's the name she ends up using. is going to be famous. and she's my friend.
justine gaitz. whose name will definitely change. because she's going to marry the man of her dreams. within the year.




and the lesson to be learnt here? it's easy. no matter where you are, here, today, now, it could all change. tomorrow. tonight. in a moment or in the blink of an eye. when the mundane seems to have settled in and you're sure that it's just not your week or your year or your lifetime. it turns. it happens. and suddenly you're the lead actress in a romantic comedy about a destination wedding in nicuragua or else you're an actual bride planning a destination wedding in thailand or south africa, the choice is yours.




life is like that. the banality of the everyday is there only to allow the good times, the pure happiness and joy, to act as punctuation. and my two special, beautiful friends? well, this week has been an exclamation mark, baby. and i'm there. buzzing. ready to join in with the exclamation-marking of their lives, just as they've done for mine. this is joy, happiness, pride, excitement, satisfaction, and belief in the goodness of the universe. it is absolute, pure, unadulterated. and i am going to bed, heavy with love and full of light. these girls are the most deserving.




everybody wins. (except the fact that tori lives far, far away in la so i can't just snap a quick pic of her... but i have her face solidly etched into my mind and right now, she is smiling. hard. for herself and her friend.)

-- R.

the other side, the things i've learned

well it has been eleven long days of bump in. and if a girl is looking for answers, proof that she's grown, that she's grown up and is learning hard and good, then just throw her into an eleven day bump in.

the show opens tonight. and production 'week' (in the one-week-is-definitely-not-a-seven-day-period scenario) has been really full on. so much hard work, sixteen hour days, pushing the boundaries of our skills and knowledge, learning on the job, keeping the balance between an incredible quality show and the perspective of it's just a musical (still hurts me to say that). keeping people happy and loving on my cast, maintaining the healthiest, most loving husband-and-wife situation, proving that teamwork really does make the whole experience better and stronger and happier.

i had a moment about a week ago now. when the seating bank, god bless it, wouldn't come out the way it is supposed to. there were five grown men grunting and hawing and huffing and swearing over it. and it still would not budge. they tried over and over. and they stole rob, who needed to be working hard elsewhere, for the better part of two hours. and i felt my panic levels a-risin'. and i was aware of the feeling of anxiety as it entered my stomach, and then lifted to the bottom part of my chest. but i made a decision. i decided that i would not allow it to preside over me. i squashed it back down. i told it who was boss. i beat panic. the tally is still in my favour, today, ten hours before we open to our first audience.

and it turns out, the seating bank is okay. and yes, we may have lost a couple of hours, which meant that yes, we had to stick around late that night, but at night, (o, at night!) all is quiet in the theatre. and there are not fourteen children named josh calling your name every three seconds to ask what's next, when, in fact, they haven't completed a single one of their other tasks proficiently (not-a-one). and late at night, we laugh and bond and marvel at our work and enjoy the team's company.



and i take time to reflect in my quiet working on how far i've come. i am drilling holes. i am threading rope. i am taking things in my stride. i am pleasant and i smile and i climb ladders and eat some food with nutritional value. i reflect on how far husband and i have come. not one single fight. only playful arguments, at best, about tempos and messiness and balances.

and i gape in awe at the wonder that is rob.



he conceived and designed the set. he knows every corner, every crevice, every little birdie that sits, perfectly angled, awaiting its designated moment to shine upon a cast member's face. he turned a glorified basketball court into one of the most exciting spaces i have every worked in. he rigged and patched and ran cables and focused and plotted the most surreally beautiful lighting design. and he remained calm. and nice. and funny. and he has a really cute jewish brooklyn accent that he absentmindedly speaks with when he is up eight metres in the air on the scissor lift. and we like him. 


and how does this lengthy rant all tie together? well, girlfriend looks back on the many, many hours she has spent working for peanuts in the theatre. not just this 'week'. but for the last seven or eight years. a lifetime of bump ins (or is it bumps in, bunny?). and i have had the most incredible realisation this week about how much i have changed, and grown, and grown up, in the theatre. it has made me a better person. and no matter how many peanuts i work for, i will cherish the skills and knowledge i am always gaining in this place. 


o, holy theatre. you are a challenging, stressful, scary place. but i love how you have changed me. and how that time i learned to squash the rising anxiety back out of my lungs will transfer itself to the classroom, and heavy arguments, and every other corner of my life.


the biggest chookas to my beautiful cast, my perfect artistic team, and all who worked on this gem of a show. i am so in love with it. it is easily the largest-scale production i have ever worked on. and it's only supposed to be a little shop of horrors.


-- R.

on the eve of "it begins again"

another bump in. starts tomorrow. and with the glands up and the body sore and the head spinning and so much left to do, i'm not exactly jumping for joy.


but the house is clean and the belly is full and warm, and i am relishing this moment. the calm before the two week storm.


and i am feeling a somewhat unusual sense of calm surrounding the upcoming fortnight. maybe i am learning, learning to have perspective and remember the bigger picture and enjoy the ride. or maybe i am just deluded.


either way, dear little blog, you are serving me well. in more than one way. you are bringing me joy and clarity and company and new friends and work.


and, in case you or i forget, here's a picture of me, how i'll look all week long. composed, happy, in control, strong, and with the ideal amount of sass.



and that's how i'll stay... mmkay??


-- R.

finding me(mo).

get it? finding me(mo). nemo? moving on...

i'm writing this entry to my future self. some things you should know, future self.

one. 
there will always be that rehearsal. first run through. everything falls apart. you want to vomit and cry. when said rehearsal occurs, just know, it has happened before. it is not the first and it will not be the last. and the show will go on. and they will know their cues and they will commit to the moment. and at some point, in say, two weeks, you will look back on that rehearsal and say, wow, i should've known. well now you do.

and, in all seriousness, even if the whole show falls apart a week before opening, try to hold on to that perspective you hold dearest which reminds you that, after all, (and tho it pains me to type it), it is just a musical. that previous sentence goes against everything i believe in, but there, now it's out there, the universe has it, so let's just allow it to bounce around a bit.

two.
do not eat five pieces of pizza if you are not willing to bear the consequences.

three.
when you have not seen your husband for two days apart from the two and a half minutes when he wakes you to say goodnight as he climbs into bed, do not choose day three as an excellent day for a fight.

four.
take more pictures. this one i've been working on for the last few days:


secret community garden hidden in a dirty urban laneway moments from my doorstep where dogs play in hoses and city-farmer-women wear giant brimmed hats.









a quick shoot with netty, a most photogenic muse.


five.
when you get that feeling of longing to be somewhere else, when you are overwhelmed and stressed and feel like nothing you do will ever help you climb out of the hole that you have seemingly dug for yourself, remember this:



and this...



because, at some point, when all is quiet in the universe, we will return to holes in socks on couches where two four-eyed blondies sit, ignoring the tv and each other, as one plots his expletive expletive AFL dreamteam, and the other blogs about it. 


and there you will find yourself.


-- R.

o that kitten--

-- R.

You.

you are sitting at the tip of that coffee table we love to fool people with. you are frantically scribbling (but of course there is method to it), pencil only, as you confer between piano/conductor and guitar scores. occasionally, you ask me a question, what is the cue, is this band or sound effect. your silence is punctuated by the odd arm flail, as you conduct the imaginary band. sometimes the one hand, sometimes both, sometimes the entire upper body makes an appearance. it all makes me swoon. you show me things that make you laugh, and they make me laugh too. you gently whisper bar counts into the air, accompanied by a lyric or two, a nod of the head, and a mad dash for the pencil. you are so aware, so tuned in, so intelligent. but you are right, you cannot draw. not even a little bit. nevertheless, i know you will give me everything i want. one day.


chu-gaga-chu-gaga-CLICK and it's over.

a long time, a long week.

it's been a good few days since i last wrote. it's been one of those weeks. when i really don't get the chance to sit down and think to myself, "hey, i'd love to write about my every thought right about now..."


and that's a good thing. because the last week has been so full to the brim that it almost burst. so there was no time to overthink, or allow boredom to set in, or to dwell on unimportant matters. in the last week i have proven to myself that i can get a bucketload done when i want to and when i need to and has allowed me also to realise how much i love having the time, in my usual routine, to breathe and think hard and dwell. and how nice it is to be reminded of how lucky you are to take time every now and then.


it was this one's birthday.

present opening: vintage LP poster, creases, stains and all, framed in pristine white. the beatles as they should be.


and 26 is not a big deal. but we like to celebrate things that aren't a big deal. and he hadn't had a party for a long while... so we celebrated, we partied. in his case a little too hard.





it was such fun preparing in the days leading up. we went to costco.



and pulled out every platter and bowl and serving dish we own in a monumental, colour-coordinating effort



and i had incredible help and support from the mother and the sister



the cute version



the actual reality, not-so-cute version


and mostly the spread was an incredible success. 





except i was so paranoid about my brownies being mushy in the middle that i overcooked them by about fourteen hours. and they were so hard that i could only cut fifteen pieces (there should have been about thirty). and even then, my sweet little toothpick happy birthday candles had great difficulty piercing through the tough-as-nails brownie stack. to the point that the tail of the "r" of "birthday" fell off as i shoved for dear life and turned it into a "p". and at that point i took it as a sign. and that sign said do not serve the brownies. and so they stayed in the kitchen, my "happy bip" brownies.





and sunday we both had the most ridiculous days that involved absolutely no recovery time. so monday rolled around, the day of my love's birth, and we were both like zombies. but it was a beautiful, calm, sleepy, easy day, which included unexpected gift-giving, two-hat lunch, and his number one cheesecake with loved ones.





and i'm glad the weekend was as great as it was. and i am exhausted and drained. because, oh yes, last week i also worked, ran a six hour rehearsal lone-ranger, upholstered a bed (yes you read correctly), and waited patiently for justine to return from her south african reunion. and now she is back and all is right in the world again, at least temporarily.


and the next four weeks are going to be just as crazy, with the school show looming and the octave show cranking into gear for auditions, and shows to be seen and props to be made and dinners to be cooked and... 


i'm excited.


-- R.