My Corn Cadenza

Personal Politics

2012-02-12T22:00:00.000-08:00

I remember there is some joke about gynecologists not wanting to come home and see the "same thing they had to look at all day", and though it's a bit of a stretch, it popped into my mind this week when hubby turned on American Idol. Honestly, after a day of listening to 13 amateur singers attempt to be, well, better, i really don't want to come home and watch any more singers. My analytical brain is basically shot, and my ears want a major break.

I feel differently about watching The Voice. For me, this taps into something about being a person who has worked and worked and then gets a chance to prove it on national tv. These folks have friends and family who've based their whole lives on the dreams of a loved one. And I feel calm while they sing. They know what they're doing. I don't feel some vague sense like it could all fall apart by the end of each phrase.

Of course, I say all of that, and while warming up for this Chicago audition I find myself occasionally falling apart at the end of phrases. I'm rusty, and I've decided to try and learn a little something new in the meantime. What they heck, either you grow or you die.

Lately facebook has been a lot of politics. It's interesting, as hubby does not find that his facebook is a lot of politics--so maybe I just know (and like) a lot of opinionated people? I do find that I am about 20 times more likely to read and comment on a funny picture of a baby or a pet than I am to have that interest in something political.

And this is why.

I am so annoyed by how many people have to make politics personal. Why can't we keep these discussions as thoughtful, interesting and educated? Why do we make up nicknames for a party of people who encompass at least 25 per cent of EVERYONE? What makes me sad about this is the "marketing" part of this whole thing. Somehow, those whose job it is to promote their candidate or party have been able to talk other people into believing they are "good guys". So, the others, by definition, must be bad guys.

And I believe pretty firmly that there are no good guys and bad guys. So this whole thing bothers me. I highly doubt many people walk into a voting booth hoping that people will be miserable. They believe that what they're voting for is BETTER for everyone. Eye Roll. This whole thing annoys me.

I swear, if one more person posts a picture of someone in politics doing something (ANYTHING) and says "this picture says everything" I'll puke. My husband works in the news, and I'll tell you while pictures are worth a thousand words, Only a small portion of those words are truth.

In the meantime, back to practicing.

Go Shorty. It's Your Birthday.

2012-02-06T22:01:00.000-08:00

So I'm 38. I think this makes my "more about me" section officially a little off. My husband came up to me this afternoon and put his arm around me and told me it was his last day of being married to a young woman. He's 42, so I'm not sure where he's getting this.

We are so eager for our trip to Orlando in March--beaches and sun and maybe just a tiny bit of Disney. Baby S will be so thrilled that it will possibly spin her head right off of her body. I'm hoping this is the perfect time to get that pacifier out of her mouth....and that hopefully that won't ruin our trip! I promise to be somewhat flexible. If it doesn't work, we all just accept it must be a few more months.

I officially have an audition for the Chicago Lyric Opera chorus(I think it's Lyric Opera of Chicago, but that's more awkward to type). It's 5 days after our trip, so I should be well-rested and officially tan. I am committing to get enough practicing in before then but I have been R.U.S.T.Y. this week going over my music. I have neglected practicing for months now. Bad idea.

I remember when I sang with the Los Angeles Opera Chorus years ago. I loved it. It was my first professional gig. There were famous people standing next to me, and the rehearsals were like a well-oiled (union) machine. People were good....and LOUD and it was the single best experience I've had with a group of people singing Happy Birthday to me :) But I remember then wondering about the people in the chorus who were so good....amazing...and 10-20 years older than I was at 26. I wondered where did they go wrong, what was wrong with them? Why weren't they having rich solo careers? And yet I also kind of liked their lives. Many of them sang in an opera chorus, in the master chorale, and then taught a little, and it was enough to make a pretty good living ( doing what they loved). Me? I was going to be a big star, that was the only way to say you'd "made it." Right?

So now I look back with such different eyes. Talent, excellence, they are a fraction of this career. The career is a slippery sweepstakes, with a surprising number of people trying to win.

This month I tried to win a trip for 4 to universal orlando theme park. Hubby and I played 10 times a day (the maximum) for at least 20 days. And the sweepstakes gave out 12 prizes a day. but we didn't win. Were there that many people playing? Sometimes it seems like that with opera...that random, that confusing. Are there really that many people who are good, doing the maximum, believing in it, practicing? And yet....trying to figure out what to do next in their mid 30s?

I went way off. I suppose my job is to analyze myself. After all, it's my birthday. But right now I'm ok with stuff. I have a lot to get done this year, and I'm hoping the chorus might end up being a way to earn some money NOT teaching. Right now that sounds good...just to have a break every so often.

I wonder where I'll be next February 7.

Biddy Biddy Bum

2012-01-25T21:20:00.000-08:00

Well, Baby S has a fever of 101-102, and has had it since two nights ago. She occasionally gets cooler, but it's a long fevery week so far, and we've got no idea what we're going to do tomorrow. Today hubby stayed home. Tomorrow, I have 12 students. That's a lot of money to lose. So I am guessing I'll be taking her with me to school to teach, and I have no idea how that's going to go. Ugh.

My prayer is that somehow she wakes up feeling better enough to go to daycare. PLeeeez.

I watched a few 2 year old girls on Tuesday, and was fascinated by how similar they all are--a little bit bossy, pretty talkative, quiet for snack, wanting to pee all the time, and really getting to a point where they can express their imagination. I like mine better than all the others though. I have to admit, not one of those little ones charmed me the way mine does.

We have almost finished taxes, and I am really disappointed by the small amount we are getting back. It's true, with voice teaching we are happy to get anything back at all (once we combine hubby's income) but still disappointing. Especially when tax counting revealed that we spent more than 15 per cent of our income this year on medical bills and insurance. Ouch. So no big debt payoffs. And we are especially disappointed to have such a small amount of money to go on vacation with. How will we do it?

I decided to make a list of what I would want to do or buy if we doubled our income.
1. Pay off our debts
2. Start tithing again
3. Do whatever weight loss programs we want to do
4. Send Baby S to Montessori
5. Take a trip outside of the US
6. Pay someone to finish the work on our house that hubby doesn't have time to do.
7. Visit family more.
8. Get a pedicure every once in a while.
9. Beef up that college savings for Baby S
10. Take some voice lessons.

Right now, I am just hoping for enough to stay afloat, fix the piano, get the furniture hauled away from the side of our house, and take a trip now and then. Oh, and NO MORE big medical bills this year. Please, please please.

Happiness, or something like that

2012-01-17T20:40:00.000-08:00

Attempting 8 blog entries this month....so I am writing what's in my head rather than shoeing it away.

Since I'm back in that "where can I sing" state, or have been for the past few months, I am seeking resources for auditions. I stumbled upon a forum for classical singers which I guess I must look at once or twice a year now, and passingly. I don't really understand a lot of what they write now, meaning that anxiety seems very foreign to me. I'm wrapped up in so many different things that I can't even remember the painful focus of opera.

I read the post of one young guy who basically said, "I'm talented, and why aren't I getting work, is it the universities' fault, for producing too many of us? Is it wrong if I teach?" and the post was very interesting to me. I've been thinking about it for the last few days. Basically, everyone agreed, TOO MANY NEW RECRUITS! Too many universities encouraging people to try to get work in a field with a tiny number of available slots.

This didn't seem right to me. After all, I never thought, ever once, in the time that I was at the University, that there would be enough spots for all of us. I figured we'd drop it. I figured only the most intense would remain, and the talented. I mean--some people go to universities and never even get a role during the time they're there, at SCHOOL! I mean, why think the world will be easier?

And I also reject the idea that universities train people to make money. Academia is its own beast, designed to round us out, to make us thinking people, to highlight our specialties. But it isn't the road to money. Not for most of us. And when you're an artist, it definitely isn't.. . . if you're smart enough not to go 100 K into debt at school, then you should know too that for an artist, it's the time to enjoy what you do without the worry of how you will feed yourself or others. It's a time of learning more who you are...and I think it should be valid for that alone. I mean, sure the cost are out of control. I am not sure why my friend's brother who teaches at Oxford makes half of what the voice teachers at University of Iowa make. It seems weird, but let those universities start figuring out how not to implode. Just make sure we take it for what it is.

My teachers never led me to believe I would be a star. Maybe I'm grateful to them for that. Their compliments were hard-earned, and I got more "false hope" (if it was false or not) from visiting "professionals" .. . opera directors, pianists, people from young artist programs. My university told me I was average. I just settled back, sang in the chorus, and learned about the things I loved.

So....I really should go back to this guy's post, because what was RIDICULOUS was that the first response was some idiot saying "how do you know you're that talented?" ugh, stupid. Because, number one, talent and success are not that related. And people over 30 in the arts know that. Some really great people make it big, and some people who are really confusing. What? Him? And every once in a while you meet some total unknown who has the voice of HEAVEN, and who knows why they never get work? And TWO, we all believe we are talented, or we wouldn't walk down this crazy road. Who says, "well, i'm not that good, but I think I'm going to risk poverty, loneliness, move all over the country, sing in front of people I don't know, and spend ever penny I have to develop my voice?" No one does it.

If you sacrificed for your voice, you believed you were worth it. And I absolutely don't think that's such a bad thing. In fact, I wish more people thought it was wonderful. I want my students to think that the sound of their voice is beautiful. Who wouldn't want that?

So I want to say this to that guy (although I'm saying it here because I don't want anyone else's opinion): Find something that makes you happy. Don't give up the singing part, really, because I want you to be the world's best singer. But if you have to ask this type of question, your road is probably not that easy. And if your road isn't easy, you need more than one thing on it. Meaning, you will not be happy with a sign above you that says : SINGING, WHY AREN'T YOU FAMOUS YET? so find a few other signs. Find one that you can do that makes you happy. CHARITY, IT'S FUN TO GIVE or FAMILY AND FRIENDS, I LOVE HANGING OUT WITH YOU or DOGS, I HAVE FOUR. or I LOVE SWIMMING or I WRITE COMEDY Or something....anything really, something you can acheive, you can build, something someone else can't take from you. Find some happiness, or something like it, or you'll always wonder if there are too many singers in the pool.

Options

2012-01-16T08:13:00.000-08:00

Hubby's home this morning. Monday is good, it's a reset of our whole week. Here we are, all here in our pajamas at 10am. I have teaching today, and a dentist appointment, but what I don't have is 12 hours of the 2 year old alone today, and that's a blessing. I remember everyone telling me when I had a child that my days of sleeping in were over. At this point, we sleep in all the time. So I'm not sure that was the case in our house. I let her take a late nap (5-7pm usually) then she goes to sleep at 10, and then sleeps until 9am. It's a good deal. If she's up earlier, she's usually content to have a soft blanket and a rerun of Barney in the living room while we continue sleeping. So....the dogs actually deny us more sleep than the two year old.

I saw a facebook post a few days ago about a mother aching for the memory of her toddlers, longing for cuddly time and little kids who want to hug you. The response was overwhelming from others saying the same, and I wondered if I would feel like that. To me, there are a lot of things to miss. I miss being on stage every time I'm not on it. I miss the excitement of being engaged to someone I loved. I miss NYC, and friends. Sometimes I even miss my old temp job and the hours we'd spend laughing. So I guess someday I'll miss when Baby S wanted to spend 5 minutes kissing me on the couch (as she did last night). It's adorable and sweet. But I don't think I'll miss this any more than the rest of it. I really look forward to her whole life--I can't wait to see her in a sport. I can't wait to see the look on her face the first time she gets applause for something, or gets a best friend.

I tell you one thing, I do not miss the baby stage. I keep saying to hubby I'd be more excited about having a 2nd child if we could pop one out that was already 2 years old. Baby stage means sleeping less, trying to figure out what the crying means, lugging that baby everywhere you go, feeling bound inside. Babies are blessings, but it's more what they will be than what they are, to me. Babies are worry--what's that fever? Why can't they eat carrots? Is this enough poop? Should they be napping more? Can I give them a bottle without ruining the breastfeeding? Sheesh. The exhaustion sounds so familiar. At 2, I have a kid who can already help me carry the groceries in :)

I guess I feel life moves and changes so much it's hard to miss things much. Unless you sit down and think about it. And once upon a time, that thing was embedded in me that I would have to sing. That thing stays stronger in me than any of the other missing.

This week I submitted a request to audition for the Lyric Opera of Chicago chorus. It would be a great gig, and hubby said he'd move closer to Chicago for me. Of course, he'd have to get a job equal to that salary just for us to equal the lifestyle we have here, but that doesn't sound impossible. And the schedule might actually be easier. 10 years ago I would have thought singing in a professional opera chorus was nowhere near where I wanted to be, but now it sounds wonderful. I would still try to do roles somewhere, but no longer with that crazy idea that I have to make money at it to be happy doing it. I'm just trying to do something a little less frustrating than balancing 30 students. Maybe 10 students and a singing gig? That sounds wonderful.

I'm grateful to have options, though. Grateful for a lot today--even with a high weigh in this morning after a whole week of working hard. Grateful for the options.

Head in the Clouds

2012-01-06T22:46:00.000-08:00

It's been a rough week. Full time child care followed by a lot of students, barely any hubby time, no friends around, difficult news from dad's end, more drama from other family members, and rejections from opera companies who don't want to hear me.

Some weeks are easier than others. Next could be a walk in the park. But I am realizing that teaching voice in this way--tons of private students--may be more headache than it's worth. A formal teaching job would fix this issue, but sometimes I spend hours in a day rescheduling students, I am swamped by last minute cancellations, and many students make your extra work feel unappreciated. I find that at the end of the day, no kid is as ambitious as I was (and am) and I have some expectation they will do the work I do (and did) on my own path. These expectations are my own failing, and only come back to bite me in the tushy. Just like every polite "please don't let the door hit you on the way out" that I get from opera companies.

Does everyone dream like me? I never seem to approach anything with "hey, let's try this, and just have a good time doing it". No. I dream of being the greatest opera singer ever. And then when I find a new musical theater role, I check out the movie, I listen to 400 Youtube clips, I sing the songs around the house, do a nationwide search for auditions, and dream of it being the role I'm "Known" for someday. Why am I insane like this?

I don't think...."oh my child will be a good kid." I wonder if she will save the world, be famous, be something unusual. I didn't dream of meeting a good guy....I dreamt of meeting someone who would expose me to some new life adventure.

And there, friends, is where my head is. No wonder I cry every time I hear Kermit sing about the "lovers, the dreamers, and me". I am willing to accept the former two. I hardly have the life of a "lover". But the dreamers and me, absolutely.

There are good things about this. I am creative. Every scenario leads in my head down a yellow brick road of good times. I don't get bored in the car. I drive around with no music on writing movies in my head. I always have stuff to say, and I have purpose every day. I find new causes when I run out of old ones. And I am a pretty good counselor when it comes to ambition, failure, hope and perseverence in other people. Really, feeling down? Call me. I can tell you a story of loss and hope, as it is what I feel like I experience every year of my life. Loss, disappointment, surprise that the dreams aren't quite what I expected....and then hope, because there is always a new one.

There are bad things, though, as you can guess. First of all, it's EXHAUSTING. Really, I can't even seem to watch a TV show without picturing myself on it, writing it, or the subject of it. It's often unrealistic. Will i be the first champion tennis player over 50? Probably not. But I'll consider the possibility. But I think the worst thing is that a bad week, a bad day, a bad hour, makes me feel like I have failed a million times. I rack up failures like other people go through toothpaste. Finish one, move on to the other. I am not any of the things I DREAMED I would be.

Because I never dreamed of anything normal, anything fine and good and sweet. I dreamed of greatness, of changing the world, or myself, or making thousands of people feel things they didn't think they'd feel, or showing them a new compassion, or somehow having a body of work that made my life significant. And unfortunately, let me say again, UNFORTUNATELY, my cloudy brain will not let me accept anything less.

Doin' it all wrong

2012-01-03T20:45:00.000-08:00

Before having a baby, I had a million plans as to how to make her the perfect adult. Really, it's amazing to watch the plans flake away (this, by the way, is the same thing I experienced in dating, marriage, and career...and probably school..you know, just a few things). I was thinking today of all of the things I just "do" because parenting is so hard! It keeps going all day long. At night too. Sometimes I look at her sleeping and I think, "hey I can keep doing this". But that's usually when she's sleeping!

Plan #1: Not too much tv.
I'll admit she watches almost exclusively PBS. But when we're home together in the morning, I leave show after show on while I clean the house. I feel guilty, but I have grown to LOVE what Sesame street allows me to do.

Plan #2: No fast food.
When picking Stevie up from a sitter and shuttling her somewhere else it often occurs to me she hasn't eaten. I do not tend to plan ahead and bring snacks (maybe occasionally). What I do often is get her "nuggets." She now requests "nuggets" (SIGH)at the sight of various fast food restaurants.

Plan #3: Foreign language learning from infancy.
I'm going to get on this SO SOON....I swear.

Plan #4: The best daycare
She's barely ever in daycare. Just 2 days a week. But the affordable home daycare she goes to is . . . well, it's fine.

Plan #5: Not too much sugar
Now, I do want to say, she does not eat sugary cereals, or juices with sugar, or those awful "all corn syrup" drinks. But our #1 bribe is chocolate (i.e., "if you go pee on the potty you get chocolate.") This is a difficult one, as she occasionally wakes up and asks for ice cream in the morning. She is a fan of the sweets.

I love being her mother. I love little things, like her waking up and saying 'mommy' before her eyes are even open. I love that I have such an amazingly sweet and well-behaved child. But I often choose convenience over that "let's do it right" thing. I always hear pregnant parents talk about all of their plans....but the day-to-day, boy that changes a lot of them.

I got turned down for an audition today. I am trying desperately to survey auditions--many people hear for principal roles in the Spring. And I'd loved to get a singing job for the summer. But I feel disheartened--I'm not finding much. And I'm at a loss as to where to start. Seems like this has been easier in the past, but I know there's something coming.

I have started practicing BELTING at home! Whoo....it's interesting, but to me I sound a little like a monkey in labor. Baby S seems to love it. We've been singing "Everything's Coming Up Roses" together. I guess at least I've done that right :)

Is this 2012?

2012-01-01T21:43:00.000-08:00

CHCHCHCHANGES.....look at these pics....one year apart almost to the day. How does someone grow that much in a year?

I wanted to write last night but was feeling completely flattened out, could barely get off the couch. I have been so lethargic for the past week. I have no problem exercising, but the rest of the day, I just feel my body dying to sit, and easily sleep incredibly long nights. I don't know what that is...winter? vacation? So this morning I woke up with a pretty big case of vertigo. I've had this occasionally for my whole adult life, and have literally no idea what happens to cause this. My latest theory is that allergies somehow give me quite a bit of fluid in my ears, and that causes the dizziness...but it's just a guess. It's almost always the morning, and goes away by noon.

But of course that ruins half the day.

Soooo....that's my first post of the new year. Vertigo. Sheesh. However, I was happy last night, with an adorable two year old yelling "happy new year anybody!" (she says anybody instead of everybody) along with a happy husband and a life that is filled with love, I felt pretty grateful.

But what I'm really grateful is thinking back over the past year. I doubled the number of students, and sang two roles I have always wanted to sing....my daughter is growing and healthy, my marriage is happy, and I've lost a few pounds (certainly not what I'm hoping for, but it's on the way). I got off of insulin for meds that I prefer, and generally, well, I'm hopeful.

I have a lot of goals but most of them are to continue what's happening now. I am hopeful for improvement of health in our house, our medical bills to finally get paid off. We are taking a vacation in March and I am hopeful that somehow we have enough money for it! I am hopeful for more time on stage, and just submitted for an audition today. I am hopeful to be pregnant with a 2nd (and last) child by New Year's next year. And of course, that I be about 40 pounds lighter at that point.

We're praying that hubby starts getting bites on a new job, too. Or me. Either one of us could get one :) Someday I'm hopeful that hubby has a job where he doesn't have to work on New Year's Eve. Doesn't seem that hard to get. But for now, it's not a possibility.

But the best part is that I'm hopeful.

We had some challenges. Rushing to the hospital back in May to find out hubby needed emergency surgery I would rather not relive. Financially, the year was tough. With past debts, we're just not earning enough. I want her to go to a great preschool...is that possible? I want a lot for her.

The 2nd Christmas is the BEST. Babies are delightful at 2 years old, knowing what they're opening, undersstanding the idea of presents, and grateful for literally every one. She is entranced by christmas lights and reindeer, and it renews one's good feelings about "holiday"....so that was pretty awesome. The 9 hour trip in the car was the best it's ever been as well. Thank you God, for an EASY Christmas. No drama, no heartache, no 12 hours driving in the snow. I will admit, the fish died while we were gone, in the care of our neighbor who felt awful. My theory is he got too cold, but I guess I won't ever know. RIP Mr. Dorothy.

Happy New Year Anybody!

I hope a lot of people get the kind of joy I've had this year.

I'm Dreaming of a Green Christmas

2011-12-19T19:08:00.000-08:00

Dear God, thank you thank you thank you for keeping it green for our trip to Michigan in 4 days. I know, selfishly I do not care about any of the people who are moaning over the lack of a white Christmas. Please forgive me for that. Selfishly, all I can think of is how our trip will be 3 hours shorter, how we will be able to jump out of the car in our socks (because I hate keeping my shoes on for an 8 hour trip) in the case of a baby or dog emergency. All I can think about is how we can open the windows if one of the dogs throw up, and how we can even stop and let Baby S run around if she's bored. It's the best Christmas present I could have asked for :)

While we're on the subject, are you upset about Santa? See, here's the thing...I know that there's nothing wrong with presents and trees and giving and receiving and snowmen and all of that. But basic Christian theology is this: Jesus died while we were still sinners. Which means, Jesus died while we were all NAUGHTY. All of us, and so why do we have to tie this holiday in with a guy who only gives presents to NICE kids (which is a lie anyways, unless your parents are horrible and abusive you probably aren't getting coal). So I don't like Santa. He's the OPPOSITE of Jesus, giving deserved gifts rather than undeserved gifts, right? Every year I need to declare that on the internet, ok?

I recently realized I'm the worst parent ever when the pediatrician's office called to say that not only had we missed Baby S's two year checkup, we also never got her 15 month vaccinations. This came on the heels of discovering that we are almost out of the "lead zone" with her. When you become a parent, there is a series of self-judgments that emerge. I believe it's impossible to be prepared for these. Now, for the rest of your life, you feel not only responsible for what you do, but responsible for what someone else does. Eek. That means when my daughter says "Get out" to someone she doesn't even know, I think, "I'm an awful person."

However, I am taking her in tomorrow (after my own appointment, hoping to pull them both off like a mean bandaid) and finding out what the rash all over the lower part of her body is. I am betting on eczema, I guess we'll see. And me, I am horribly embarassed to admit that I haven't been checking my blood sugars AT ALL for the first time since my diagnosis. I don't know why, I am just rebellious I guess, or stupid.

All of this is boring me. THis year I would like to write a book and record an album. And find a few auditions, and sing. It's pretty much the same goals every year. I'd like to lose 50 pounds between now and next August, and then get pregnant. I'm lining up the goals like crazy! Let's say I just get two done...that would be awesome :)

I need a vacation. Oh yeah, I've got one coming :)

Divine Dissatisfaction

2011-12-11T21:37:00.000-08:00

Every Saturday and Sunday night I get to have a little time alone. There is a little moment between Baby S going to sleep (around 10pm) and when Hubby gets home, (around midnight). I am usually so exhausted that I don't want to stay up, but the peace of it is so nice that I force myself to stay awake, making it significantly less pleasant than it could be.

This weekend has been a whirlwind of students, lots of moved and cancelled lessons, and next week is almost a vacation--my students have 4 days of 6 hour rehearsals after school (can you imagine that? It sounds awful). I am going very lightly into suggesting that they come for lessons, they probably need that time to sleep, but it makes next week financially tighter.

I have been searching through auditions, dreaming of what I could do next, but not seeing any real possibilities. I used to throw my net out wide, hopeful of any possibility, but now I am specific. After all--auditions now seem like so much more of an effort, and I am trying to find the stuff that I love, rather than just trying to get something (anything) that will let me be on stage. Novel, isn't it? To think of singing in terms other than desperation.

We used to make fun of an online forum where singers would post things such as "Have you heard from X opera?" "Has anyone gotten accepted? Rejected?" The desperation and fear would be so intense, and so ridiculous. Mainly because the things they were asking about were the equivalent of "opera sweat shop". Low pay, long hours, and getting treated like horse poop are still so normal in opera. And since I feel removed from that now I hesitate--am I exaggerating? But I can then remember all the things I've heard from opera directors, about using up singers like tissue, or not wanting to talk to siners because you didn't want to explain their failures, blah blah blah. It reminds me of when you hear guys who sleep around trying to talk about women....after a while there is simply no humanity left to them in the word "singer." There is simply object: god or pawn.

There is so much to be frustrated with when you are really following God, when you are doing unpopular things, when you believe in even the hard stuff, when you accept that you're not really supposed to be satisfied in yourself, and yet feel completely loved at the same time. But the most frustrating thing is the way God is so often represented (by what seems to be the loudest people) with a strange sense of self-satisfaction that you can't explain to someone who doesn't believe, because you yourself don't understand it....You commit yourself to a God who made Himself fully humble, low, born in a manger, died on a piece of wood, but you yourself feel you're "doing alright with God" or "everything's good" or you're better than someone else because of how good you are? Humility is the key to it....dissatisfaction is essential.

And sometimes this is how I feel about art. By itself, art is so utterly divine, it is beyond our knowledge or comprehension. I know it's real, I've seen the evidence I long for it every day, but I can't explain it to you fully. I can only give you a shadow. I am humbled by the amazingness of it. And partly I know that because nothing I do ever gives me complete satisfaction. There are so many great feelings attached to it, but satisfaction is rarely one of them. Yet so often it seems like the loudest of the arts folks are cocky, always self-satisfied, hardly searching for something amazing so much as just trying to stay in the career of it.

Martha Graham: No artist is pleased. There is no satisfaction whatever at any time. There is only a queer, divine dissatisfaction, a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive Ahhh, blessed unrest.

I'm exhausted.

Small Town Bravado

2011-12-05T22:12:00.000-08:00

Is it December? This season goes so fast. I am toying with the idea of calling the doctor and asking not to see them until January. I have to see the doc every 3 months now. And although financially it is unwise, I just hate going there. I would love to have a month of just not thinking about it.

I miss getting this tag of "healthy" so much. I don't remember ever judging others for being ill, but did I, if I have so many judgments toward myself?

Two nights ago, while feeling a little sick of Baby S, we trudged out into the semi-freezing rain to go see something called the "fire and ice parade" which sounds very fancy but made me feel like I was in a smaller town than ever! We parked behind a building downtown moments after the parade started. It was a bit hard to find (not a good sign for a parade) but we did hear the marching band, and just barely missed it. The rain was coming down pretty hard, and it was that temperature where rain is just barely still rain, and not snow yet, so ...awful.

There were, it seemed, about 15 vehicles? It could have been more, but some of them were just like...old Corollas wrapped in a string of Christmas lights with a heavyset woman in a pair of sweatpants throwing candy canes out the back. For Baby S, it was awesome. All the lights, they had a REAL reindeer for the finale, some dogs dressed like reindeer, and people walked alongside the parade throwing candy at us for the whole thing. People "in the know" brought bags to collect candy. I had soggy pockets full of tootsie rolls by the time we left.

It was friendly, and polite, like most things here. It was fun, and perfect for a little child, with none of the incovenience of drunk people, $15 parking or long walks in the rain. It was, like most things here, small but fairly satisfying. Three of the vehicles were supporters of Ron Paul, and I was quite happy to not have a bag with me when they started with the brochures. I am not sure how much politics I ever want in my Christmas parade, whether I am on your side or not.

Baby S likes to run around the house now with her toy camera saying "I picture you." and taking pictures. It's adorable. Everything she does is adorable or torture. Not a lot of middle ground over here.

And I feel like I made some weird emotional breakthrough yesterday, though I can't figure out what it was. Like...I would write about it, but I am still processing it. Why do I have to want everything? Why do I want to be thin, and successsful, and happy in my relationship, and yet want all the things spiritually that I don't have, a true humility, a desire to serve all the time? I really want stuff.

Speaking of which, we have unforunately taught Baby S to say "I want, I want". So now in the stores she tells me she wants EVERYTHING. And when she reallly wants it, she just claims it for herself. "My baby. My doggie. My green house."

It is amazing how they grow, and I will say over and over, I didn't mind the brief time they were babies. That time is so hard. For me the joy of the kid is learning who they are, and I never really could figure out who she was when she was just crying to nurse or learning to roll over. But this time, now I want to stretch it out, slow it down. She loves repeating what I say. In the store, when she was saying, "I want it, I want it" I said, "I like this quite a bit actually." And she said, "I wike it quite a bit. I wike it quite a bit." That kind of stuff I could stretch out. She enjoys driving my husband crazy by saying his name. "Daddy, don't sit there." and then suddently you hear my voice come from her, "Come on Tye, don't sit there." The look on his face is priceless. I could slow that part down.
Just -maybe not the pooping in her pants part.

Ho (cough cough) Ho

2011-11-28T22:17:00.000-08:00

As I type this I am hearing a rerun of 30 Rock in the background where Tracy Jordan sings his "imagine Christmas wishes shooting out of your eyes" song. I am still laughing a little.

We are a sick house. The baby, somehow, manages to escape illness while Daddy and I pass it back and forth, I guess. My immune system seems to be the better of the two, while he coughs, sneezes and chokes down phlegm and I just feel tired and have a sore throat, but the general feeling is BLAH. I wish I were on a beach.

I have been eating a little strangely, meaning that I haven't been thinking about it enough, since T-Day. I didn't weigh in this morning, and I am hoping tomorrow is not too horrifying, but I just don't want to see anymore doctors. I hate doctors. Can I skip this next appointment? Can I? We owe so much money to doctors. BLECH.

Speaking of money, I calculated out that if we continue paying $350 a month to hubby's student loan it will take 468 months to pay it off. Which means that someday we have to earn more money. Ain't no better conclusion. And that I will not be allowing Baby S to ever take out that much in student loans. Oy. The thought practically keeps me up at night.

I want to be on stage SO MUCH RIGHT NOW. It's killing me. Who will have me? I'll do anything!! Well, not anything, but I think at this point I'd do OUTREACH for schools, and that is pretty much tantamount to artistic torture. I need a new opportunity....must. go. looking. It was this time last year I auditioned for Sweeney. So I guess it's something about the horrifying cold coming on that makes me need to sing my lungs off. Or act. Or hopefully both.

I am tired of thinking about weight loss. I want to give myself credit for being 50 pounds lighter than when I gave birth. I also want to beat myself up for not being 60.

We trimmed trees today, and Baby S (who maybe I should start calling Little Girl S) hung ornaments on her own 3.5 foot tree. It was so cute and so annoying. She could not stop hanging them all on the same branches!!! Ugh. It feels so confusing to have a child who develops quickly and is bright but is still a child! She has become insanely affectionate, offering kisses and hugs to people who don't even want them. She is talkative, but repeats every bad thing I say, which is a lot of pressure!

We looked at baby dolls together at the store last week, and she kept saying, "i want this one" and then would change "i want this one" and then within seconds came again. I heard myself saying, "oooh, I like this one quite a bit." And she instantly repeated, "mine quite a bit" "want quite a bit" It is funny to hear her repeat that kind of thing.

Amazing to think 2 years ago she was a drooling little constant nurser. I remember still at the beginning how it took a little time for her to look me in the eye, to relate to me, and I felt like a cow, being used for my milk. And then how one day it seemed she started equating the whole thing with love, and we were partners.

And now she walks through stores with me going, "oooh, amazing!" "O my gosh, amazing"!

Monday Morning

2011-11-21T08:30:00.000-08:00

I had a rather good Sunday this week. It tends to be the hardest day for me. I teach on Saturdays, usually just a few lessons, and then Sunday is the first full "free" day. Which sounds great, except I don't have any childcare from Friday-Sunday, and hubby is only home until noon on Saturday and Sunday, and the rest is just me and the baby, trying to figure out what to do that works around her. Sometimes the days are unbearable, with no one to take over when she gets cranky or really "two year old-y" or whatever else she can get.

But yesterday was day 2 of amoxicillin for strep throat. I was finally feeling better and able to swallow. Baby S was funny, cute and not too difficult. It is amazing to think what she can do now. She is starting to correct "baby" words with the real words for things (she has always said "cow cheese" as her favorite snack, and now she says the actual "cottage cheese", only she says it quite slowly, "Coootttage cheese", it's kind of amazing). She does a mean summersault, and she can stack blocks, do ABC games, paint with me, use clay (to make lumps, but it's still fun). We went shopping yesterday and she put all the items in the cart for me. As long as I keep her involved, and make her role important, she stays happy and honestly, helpful.

So today I feel less of the need to force hubby into "you must make up for leaving me alone for 2 days" although we're having a "cleaning day" to prepare for the in-laws (and the new couch!) I can actually put my foot through the lining of the current couch. It's literally falling apart at the seams. And my sore throat is 80 per cent gone, and I just weighed myself and I'm down 10 pounds since July. That's 10 pounds in 4.5 months.....which really would only mean about 25 pounds a year....not enough to get pregnant next summer. But enough to make me feel like my work is paying off. All those meals I replaced with soup this week worked! *sigh*

I am really missing being in a show. I want to sing, sing, sing. So I guess it's about 4 months. The time I can go without singing in something before I get sad. It's starting to sink in, I think, that this is the important thing, that I keep singing, rather than that I somehow find a way to call myself a "success" in singing. Maybe I could just enjoy the art of it, rather than the business. I think? We'll see how long this healthy thinking stays around. We singers have a way of squashing it :)

Speaking of squash...I don't like feasts. I like Thanksgiving because I like meal fellowships. I like sitting across from people and just enjoying them. I like giving thanks to God, and I've got a lot to be thankful for. But the food. Ugh. I kind of miss NYC for that...untraditional Thanksgivings with single people. So hard to marry these two sides of me. THere is the side that loves to be a mom and a homeowner, a part of a family, with a few dogs and a garden. But I also long to be an urbanlady sometimes....a single person who eats foreign foods, bucks tradition and witnesses some crazy art every once in a while. I'm a little lost in between sometimes.

Running and Gazing

2011-11-13T21:21:00.000-08:00

Why have I not blogged in a month? I guess so much has happened, I have been busy, and hubby has been using my computer at night? Those are my guesses.

This month I took 3 teenage girls to Chicago to watch young opera singers compete in the MET finals. I kept trying to decide how specifically I would blog about that experience--it was quite a bit of humor. But I expected to feel--left out? I expected to wish I were about to be told that I was on my way to NYC to start a career again, but I didn't. Instead, I felt kind of "in the know". I knew the weird sexual practices of one of the judges, I'd talked at length (in the past) to another. I was able to predict the judges 2nd picks for the singers (without even seeing what the singers were offering!) and I picked the winners (not who I would pick, but who I figured they would).

Mostly I just enjoyed the awe of 3 girls from Cedar Rapids driving through the city. I enjoyed their reactions to the singers. We went to an all-vegetarian restaurant for dinner (they'd NEVER been to one!) and had the girls request such naive things as "can we see a hooker?" (which by the way I did not indulge). I enjoyed showing them a world I once fell in love with. And out of love with. And back in love with...well, you get the picture.

I have noticed recently a large number of friends running marathons. It sounds wonderful--but I definitely think there is a trend since the fall of our economy. I think running is perfect for the time we're in--a world where you are competing not against some ridiculous glass ceiling, or a world that tells you there's no money for what you want to do, but essentially yourself. No one I know is training to beat a Kenyan. They are training to beat their own time. And they are deriving great joy from doing it. Weight loss is like that, I guess. At the end of the day, you're the one who put the fork down. At the end of the day, you're the one who got up at 5am to train, right?

I got a little down today thinking about some guy I met on the internet when I was in NYC. I once put up a serious ad on craigslist when I was lonely--this was probably only about 6 years ago. Amid the weird responses, I got one response from an aspiring opera singer. He was a nice guy, I guess, who wanted to complain about how hard and lonely it was to be a singer. And our lives, our careers, pretty much paralelled. He hadn't done more than I at that point. And I thought he was so whiny, actually--so negative, all he wanted to do say was "why aren't I getting what I want?" So we never even met.

He debuted at the MET this year. Isn't that amazing, that our paths could have been so outstandingly different? I am not sure yet, that I couldn't catch up with his path somewhere--but I am well aware of the long-shot.

I hoped the girls wouldn't ask me a question about this on the way to Chicago. How do I explain these bizarre trajectories? I guess, hearing their difficult stories, even at 16, I know that we don't really get to 16 without knowing there is some pretty major heartbreak and frustration. But at the same time, I sometimes wish I could stare at a few high-rises and get those same stars in my eyes again.

Prayers, Paychecks, Pottytraining, Pedagogy

2011-10-19T21:03:00.000-07:00

Living without a paycheck is a hard thing to do in the US. I make just as much money as I did at quite a few jobs in the past--were you to look at the ANNUAL amount. It is still just squeaking by with hubby's paychecks, medical bills and debts. But at the same time, there are weeks when I don't make half as much as I've planned to. The kids forget. The parents say "can I pay you next week?" etc etc. And sometimes there are no-shows. Sometimes I say, "hunny, I'll get 60 bucks tonight and then make a run to the store for diapers and milk and stuff" and then no 60 bucks come. It's a tough ride. Say all you want about saving, planning....when you've planned and it just isn't there, there ain't much to fall back on.

There is an upside. My time is my own. I always felt so trapped sitting in front of a computer having finished my work, hoping for some interesting conversation. I got in trouble for too many emails at work--I was trying desperately to entertain myself! I certainly have a challenging job here. Each student brings about their own issues, their victories, and I love being part of that. I am nervous about all-state this weekend. Two nights ago I dreamed of being chased by choir teachers through the neighborhood. I am hopeful that my students will come to me rosy-cheeked and satisfied. I know what it's like to not get picked. I am not so crazy about seeing that next week. But I certainly feel like I'm on a pretty major ride.

Baby S pees when she wants to. She likes the potty, but it's all on her terms. We have evenings of freaking out because she is naked and her legs are wet. WHY WHY? And then we realize she just poured water on herself....or lip gloss. Or sometimes we find pee. It's a DELIGHT. I wish she had the ambition of a 12 year old "I will get this done, mommy!" but it's nowhere near that. It's more like, "eh, I'll pee in the potty if there's candy and I'm in the mood."

I have so many prayers regarding where we are to go next. Where are we going to church, where are we working, what will be the place that brings me sanity and hubby peace? Does all that come in a place? Sometimes I love Iowa. Sometimes I think the glass ceiling is leaving bruises on my head. It depends which day you ask me. In the meantime--I am asking for some faith too. I feel faithless these days. SPinning rapidly, trying not to grieve what used to be my anchor. I am wondering why that's been so easy to lose track of.

I must go to sleep soon. On Thursdays my day starts a whole hour early than any other day, and that BITES! It is so hard to get Baby S up, and myself, and clean the house, and feed the dogs, and yell at hubby, and apologize, and kiss him goodbye. That takes a long time, trust me.

It is gettin' cold here....and that means winnnnter. I'm not ready! Can we have a November Indian summer? Does that happen? Where suddenly it's green and we can go running outside again? Alaas, I think probably not. At this point I am just praying for a winter like last one, which wasn't nearly as bad as the previous, in my opinion.

I miss my california sandal-wearing days when it gets a chill here. I almost forget what it's like to not expect snow! I just start dreaming of white sand beaches with hubby and his lobster-red cheeks. Although the last few nights I've lost him to Arkham City.

Goodnight blog.

Bored?

2011-10-17T09:52:00.000-07:00

I am down 9 pounds. Let's just start with that. I have lost 9 pounds since July 1. 9 Pounds I'd been trying to lose for a year. I feel hopeful, and that is a great feeling. If only I could go through days not thinking about it, not being afraid of my weight or wishing good news would rescue me.

But I am bored. And that boredom, coupled with a fear of how much worse the winter will make it, is feeling like depression. I am not in a show. I am finding my students annoying--constant last minute cancels, chasing them for payment, all of our bills questionable every month because we don't know what day I'm getting paid. Ugh. I have been drilling all-state choir parts with students which is SO BORING. None of the artistic joy I normally find in a lesson. That ends soon, and hopefully will help.

Kids are boring. They are lovely and make you feel loved and give you someone to love, and are boring. They want to do the same thing 10 times, have the same discussion 10 times, and eat the same thing 50 times. The "cute" stuff they say becomes grating the 1000th time they say it. You can love 'em all you want, but if you are someone like me, who thrived on world adventures, urban conversations, witty banter with friends, challenging spiritual quests, the 2 year old is boring.

I find Iowa lovely--and sometimes I just think the new people I meet here are SO intriguing. But I really miss the adventure of the city. EVERY DAY in NYC I found something new. I met someone interesting (not always a pleasant experience, but the adventure was worth it)! I felt like every day someone wanted to argue with me, to discuss with me, to sing me a new song. And here, I just find the same faces.

How can I be someone who loves the un-urban environment (loves the farms, the open spaces, the relaxed atmosphere, the live chickens being sold in stores) and yet who desperately misses the skyscraper way of thinking? I do. I miss it. I fell in love with hubby partly because he was someone who WOULDN'T give in to my desire to get lost in arguments to keep myself occupied. But now I want him to fight with me! I want a challenge that's fun. At least, you know, more fun than weight loss.

Who's up for a trip to Asia? And where do I get a few thousand to do it? Can I somehow talk myself into planning some musical adventure over winter when I barely feel like getting up? There must be something better than potty training and spending weekends sadly alone, missing the one person I actually moved out here for. I need a group of witty, crazy, intellectual people to drive me crazy. I miss kayaking, I miss the subway, I miss chinatown.

Bored.

MINE

2011-10-07T05:48:00.000-07:00

Baby S is two and one month. I thought it's been a long time since I just posted about her, minus the constant complaining.

It's been a week of bickering for hubby and I. We are cooped up, and need some romance time, I think. This may be the hardest part of parenting.

Baby S sings the alphabet song and calls it "A, B, Me." She won't really sing it completely unless you do it with her. She likes to point at various people in the room and yell, "Daddy, try" "Mommy, try".
She also sings : Jesus Loves Me (with hand movements), Tiny Tim (aka the bubble song) Twinkle Twinkle (God help me I'm starting to hate this song), Ring around the Rosie, Wheels on the Bus (She's especially good at this one), Holy Holy Holy, Row Row Row Your Boat, Itsy BItsy Spider, and a few others. She also likes the Elmo Song, "You Do It, You Use the Potty" which she occasionally screams at full volune while walking through stores. She seems to only know that line.

She says "Daddy hold you?" when she wants hubby to pick her up. She repeats funny phrases she hears. Yesterday she came home from daycare with two new ones:
"Knock it off, Bullseye" (that's the name of the dog at daycare)
and "How do you do, Mommy?" (my personal favorite).

She likes to go to daycare and BSF (kind of like Sunday school). When she leaves she often says, "Goodbye, kids". She acts shy when you take her, but then never cries. She seems to want to go to the toys right away. She loves any sort of standing toy (workbench, kitchen). She also is starting to love baby dolls and always loves balls.

She loves books so much you can read her 5 or 6 at a time. She loves the fully read books with stories, and the ones where you just ask her to find stuff. Probably equally.

She requests certain diapers by the characters on them, and cries until I give her that one. I will not be bullied, so I simply put other diapers on her and let her cry. Her favorite is "unchin" (elephant). She sits on the potty for huge amounts of time. She does the whole routine: potty, hanging out, toilet paper, flush. But she does not pee or poop. Every time she gets on I remind her "What do you get if you put pee in the potty?" and she says, "Chocolate." But she never gets any chocolate, because it never happens. Fascinating. The worst part of this is that sometimes she wants to go potty on the big potty when I'm on it. Then there is great screaming. "My POTTY. MY PEE." She tries to push me off.

She easily speaks 4-5 words at a time, but you can't always understand what they are. She loves to repeat what daddy says right after he says it.

She loves to cuddle. She loves to kiss and says "I love you (wuv you) Daddy, Mommy, Nana, Bubbe" She sometimes hugs me and says, "ooooooh, mommy". THat's my favorite, I think.

She has a weird sense of humor, but mostly laughs at us being goofy. She laughs when we dance or jump up and down, and when I put the bubble wrap out and run on it she laughs so hard she can't breathe.

She is obsessed with all animals. We found a frog together, and she keeps revisiting that place in the yard. She talks about all dogs and cats, and pretty much you can watch any tv show with dogs or cats in it and she will watch it with great patience.

Her favorite food is chocolate. In any form. Following that, she tends to like proteins and vegetables best. Fruits after that and all carbs (except noodles, she looooves noodles) at the end. She changes her tastes quite a bit though, which I like. At first she called all meat CHICKEN. I tried to teach her BEEF when we were eating it, so now she just says CHICKENBEEF. I'm not sure how to change that.

She loves walks--walks with the dogs, just the two of us, any walks. I dread a long winter with no walks. Swimming, climbing and general mayhem. She's a wonderful handful. And unfortunately, has just started growing fond of the word MINE.

Chaos Theory

2011-10-02T22:13:00.000-07:00

I made it through September. Why is that month always kind of tough? Maybe it's the season changing, the start of school, the lack of husband. Any of those things, I guess. It was stressful. This morning i filled out an application to teach at a University, sent my CV and cover letter and made them as needlessly long as I could to impress them with my VERBOSITY. Hubby's been helpful with the baby lately, but I am tired (so very, very tired) of whole weekends alone with her. I feel stuck, knowing that if I make plans she may or may not be cooperative with them, and her naps become so erratic with me trying to accomplish things. We end up stuck in the house more than I'd like and I clean, and clean, and did I mention how much I hate cleaning?

And I feel like such a bad mother on a day like today, when I got to do nothing for myself, not even the gym, and just had moments of looking at her like, "could you please just go somewhere else?" When all she does is want me to play with her all day long. I did take her on two walks (her favorite thing) and run through the house on the bubble wrap carpet we've created....but otherwise, I got the feeling she felt cooped up with me too.

I keep thinking about this event, years ago, when I was searching for an apartment in NYC. My friend and I (and the broker) were checking out an apartment we liked. I wanted to see how loud the bedroom was (it was close to the street)so I shut the door. I turned around, this moment by myself, and neatly written on the back of the door were the words THIS TIME IT'S DIFFERENT. Neatly, in print, by hand, and about 1000 times, from the top of the door to the bottom. I think sometimes about what that person was trying to say to themselves. I would assume there was an irony, like it's NEVER different. Like every audition, every relationship, every addiction is the same. exact. thing.

But the truth is that this time it is different. Every time it's different. Every attempt I've had at weight loss is DIFFERENT, and every conversation with a loved one is different, and every Sunday stuck with Baby S. The only thing in this world you can count on is change, right? And I am different. Every time. THe circumstance, the weather, the people. I find this reassuring because it means THIS COULD BE THE TIME. Or maybe not. OR MAYBE! Ha ha.

John Raitt, a famous broadway dude (if you don't know) once said to me and a few others that success was like a whirlpool. And he and all his friends got sucked in eventually. They walked and walked around it, hoping. And when I think about it, it probably looked the same every time you walked around. Except for, as he put it, suddenly and without warning someone got sucked in. Whhhhsp! And then the walk dramatically changed. There are so many areas of my life where I like to think of this odd analogy. But I guess the most important part to think about it is that those who stopped walking around it...those who made a B-Line away from the whirlpool, they didn't get sucked in. I mean, they could have found a new whirlpool. God knows there are far more than just one, and we should too.

But I think the last time you walk around you think to yourself THIS TIME IS NOT DIFFERENT. It's the same old thing, and you just can't do it.

I hope that the person who lived in that apartment didn't drown in hopelessness writing that. I hope that they saw that every time WAS different. I hope that their hope didn't turn to a hard shell in that deafeningly loud NYC bedroom. Sometimes I like to imagine that the very last, 1000th time that they wrote it, it was different, and they got what they wanted, and they moved out. Or up. Or that they wrote all of those words on one single day, walked away from that door, and never once again assumed things were the same.

For me, THIS TIME IS DIFFERENT. THIS TIME IS DIFFERENT

Perspective

2011-09-28T20:47:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was a tough day. In the morning we took Baby S for her monthly lead test--it continues to go down (we won't know the results for a few days)--but it's hard to watch. She has to be held down by 3 people while we take enough blood from her arm to fill the vial. Then we had breakfast as a family at the local grocery store. We sat next to a table of older men, obviously retired, having a wonderful time. They were laughing and telling stories and I asked hubby, "you think they come here once a week! It's such an advertisement for the fun of retiring." He said, "I bet they come here every day." and then it looked even better.

After Baby S's appointment, we rushed to Lowe's to get more cement for our walkway, a project which I hate spending money on but love getting done (story of my life). We couldn't do what we wanted (brick) but it still looks nice, and is a good, wide path. Good for walking. We ended up spending too long there, thanks mostly to chasing Baby S, and ended up running to my doc's appointment. When we got there, 10 minutes late, they said that since it was so close to lunch, they needed to move me to after lunch.

Ok--so I came back after "lunch" (which really meant wandering through stores) and got the news...all tests negative, no problems, just this lifelong desperation of trying to lose weight and feeling like a failure, beating myself up, going to groups, appointments, clubs, paying dues, exercising, cutting b ack, and still having diabetes. And pretty much every other problem that comes along with excess weight. When I think about it, I hardly want to go on, I just want to .....give up, to hide under my bed. The doctor says, "look at the good news here! Weight is complex and difficult, but you could be battling something even worse." I hardly hear him, but I keep going. I had a bizarre weight gain this week. I had been steadily losing a pound a week for about 7 weeks. And then suddenly a 3 1/2 pound gain....which means my work meant so little....I still feel like an enormous failure, and the worst is that for the life of me, i can't even imagine how this could have happened.

I taught a few lessons, had a few no-shows, and generally hubby and I had a fairly nice afternoon. I tried to shake off my worries, I promised myself we just had to keep going. I prayed for more faith, which lately feels completely gone. I feel tired of praying for the same thing. After a lifetime, I feel like there's no one listening.

I had my low carb dinner, put Baby S to sleep, and hubby and I laid down together (which we hardly ever do) for the night. We talked about happy stuff, and I felt happy to be there with him. But in the quiet, I reviewed the day, i felt anxious, I mourned times of better faith. I felt him breathe heavily next to me in the middle of all of my swirling, worried thoughts. And asked him, "is something wrong?" and he said, "you know those moments where you realize everything is just....perfect?" and I closed my eyes and said, "I guess so. yes."

Letter to the Student who cancels last-minute

2011-09-26T11:53:00.000-07:00

Here's a real letter I sent today. I like it, and think I should create a template. This is like the singing-teacher's curse....it doesn't feel good to charge a non-rich person for not showing up, but it seems respect is so hard to get without the consequence of money.

Dear XXXX,
Please try to let me know a day in advance if you cannot make a lesson! My whole day is scheduled around the students for that day--that means Baby S's daycare, her nap, my errands, housekeeping, anything social I want to do, etc, not to mention other students who want last minute lessons. It is SOOO much more considerate to give me a day to prepare for a change like that (especially in a situation like this week, where you probably could have anticipated this being too hard). You are the first lesson on Friday, and you can't imagine what a difference that half hour makes.

I completely understand you changing and cancelling and you don't have a commitment to come every week, but I just wanted to let you know that I already have a really loose cancellation policy--the danger of that--as we see--is that students will take advantage of me. If I had to miss a lesson with my voice teacher and called her that day I would have owed $120 for the hour, and if I missed it, she would make me pay. I am trying to use the deterrent of personal responsibility instead of money in this case. Please try to respect that..

Thanks,

Singing Teacher

Cafe Ole!

2011-09-24T22:19:00.000-07:00

Well, so much for my "I'm going to write 8 posts in September" deal with myself. I often, as I've said before, "write" these in my head and then don't lay them down on the laptop, but this one deserves writing.

This morning after the gym I noted that I had more cash than usual in my wallet ($28) and decided to use that as an excuse to get a pricier coffee. I almost always get a nonfat cafe au lait with 1/2 a packet of Splenda. I only get it twice a week, on my hardest days. All of that is to avoid overspending on coffee. It works. I would prefer a nonfat latte, but the rule of coffee is that espresso costs more than coffee. So I do the "poor man's" version of the latte. The cafe "au lait".

My favorite part of this might be when the people who work there write "CAFE OLE" on the cup, as if it is somehow spanish and festive.

Wow. TMI. It has just occurred to me that this is going to be a snobby blog post. So WARNING: THIS IS SNOBBY. I'm going to live with that.

I went to my favorite place to get the coffee. We like this place because it is small enough that the owners are occasionally there, though it is definitely part of a chain. Perhaps it is a franchise? It's not Starbucks, so the champion of small business in me likes to go there. The people who work the counter make GOOD coffee, they know about coffee, and they have, to me, often a better product than Starbucks. Though not always.

Today I broke the mold, spent $3 (I never spend $3, that sounds insane to me) and ordered a small cappuccino. THe woman said to me, "do you want it wet or dry?" And I said to her, "I have no idea what that means". (What the hell is a dry coffee?) So she explained that "wet" meant that there was a small amount of espresso with steamed milk and the rest of the cup was filled with foam. Since this is the only way I've ever heard of a cappuccino being made, I said that would be fine and skipped the explanation of "dry."

Then she said to me, "This has a strong coffee taste. Just want to make sure you're ok with that."

And I said, "what other kind of taste would it have?"

And she said, "well, some people are used to gas station cappuccinos, and then this kind of freaks them out a little."

And I said, "oh, well that's syrup," And the conversation ended.

I drove away thinking of how I grew to love cappuccinos. I lived in Italy for a year, and for the first time in my life, I started drinking coffee. I think I had waited before then because the bulk of my coffee exposure was mom's 2 day old folger's instant coffee reheated in the microwave, stirred with a pen, and then sweetened with the "sugar free" equivalent of 18 packets of sugar. I grew to love them in Italy, where we would eat coffee and cookies for breakfast, made in that little silver pot I loved so much. We would put in plenty of rich milk and the taste didn't need an ounce of sweetening. I still miss those coffees. When out in Italy, I would stop in little cafes and have a cappuccino or macchiato, in a little tiny porcelain cup. I don't think there was ever a size option, or an option of any other sort.

I am still not a caramel macchiato with whipped cream and syrup on the top kind of girl. Coffee is supposed to have an edge of bitterness. You should be able to taste that it was made with cold water. It's an adult drink, and shouldn't be sweet. The milk is better when steamed, or at least warmed, before added to the coffee. The milk is what cuts the bitterness. It should be a breakfast unto itself, held in both hands to start the ritual of day, and not served in a tumbler. Coffee is designed to be small and drunk slowly. And just to review the italian for anyone who cares to have it reviewed here you go:

Cappuccino: If you see the "cap" beginning to an italian word it means Head. Da Capo is the beginning of the piece, Capellini is pasta that looks like hair on your head, and CAPuccino has a head of foam. Don't like foam? Don't order a "dry cappuccino". Really, that makes me wince a little.

Latte: Milk. Way more milk than coffee. The milk should be heated or steamed.

Macchiato: Spotted. More coffee than milk.

See how simple that is?

And yes, I like the strong coffee taste. Heaven forbid someone as cheap as I am spend $3 on a drink with a taste they don't like. Bite your tongue!

Ask and Receive?

2011-09-14T21:26:00.000-07:00

I am totally overloaded with students. I mean, at this point, I don't know how to turn them away, but i need to. I take Sun & Monday off, and then between Tues and Saturday I teach approximately 29-34 lessons a week. I thought I could go more than this, but I am learning that physically, I just don't have it in me. Today was 9 students, and that is doable, but exhausting. Tomorrow is 12. Yowza. Friday, the day I used to "take it a little easy" will be spent entertaining Baby S all morning, and then teaching for the rest of the day, probably about 5 students.

Don't get me wrong...firstly, if you add up how much moola this is, it's incredibly nice. I am only doing what I love! Dreamy!! We are actually paying medical bills, rather than just hiding when the phone rings. I also love it. I love my students. But it would also be nice to pick and choose a little--to earn as a salary instead of getting used to this big number and then suddenly earn half in December, when kids are sick or school is out and no one takes lessons.

Baby S is a little miracle. She is happy to go to daycare, and happy to come home, and always seems to have fun, as long as she's going somewhere. She talks up a storm, and sometimes it's delightfully funny (today she turned around to a classful of preschoolers and yelled "Bye kids!" much to my entertainment. It is hard, though, to manage this teaching schedule and being her mother, and honestly, it's impossible to have someone watch her for all lessons, so she's present for at least 7 or 8 lessons a week....way too many.

Something I'v noticed about myself which is incredibly lame and embarassing is that I cry at sporting events. I CRY at sporting events. Here's what happens (and it happens sometimes while watching tv at home too). Tonight, for example, we went to a hockey game. I like hockey...it's fast. Like basketball with ice, which is kind of awesome. And then the home team scores, and everybody screams, and the lights flash, and the music, and I'm hit with this enormous well of emotion--like I can't believe how unified the whole room is. And then suddenly, my chest gets tight, and I find my eyes well up with tears, while a lot of semi-drunk people stand up and sing some sort of "Goal" song. And I try to hide it from hubby. I am somehow "touched" by team spirit, so much that I want to sob out loud.

Ridiculous. But at least it makes the game more interesting.

Jesus in a tie-dye shirt

2011-09-11T22:40:00.001-07:00

I did a rare thing tonight. I got a babysitter and went out by myself. It would have to be something special to do it, and it was. I went to a David Wilcox concert. For the past 3 years, I have checked his "dates" as he travels around the country, longing to see him perform. The last time I saw him I believe was in the mid 1990s, which is about a hundred years ago, in California.

Every year, it's been the same thing....he's kinda close, but not close enough. Other states, bigger cities. It's been disappointing. But this year, at the last minute, a tour date was added, here! Blocks away, actually, and I had to do it.

It is a strange thing to go out by yourself after a few years of marriage. I dressed up, I wore makeup, and it reminded me of NYC, the single years. THe timing was nicely mine, and I knew I'd get a ticket, since usually it's easy to find one. The concert was in an art space--with a beautiful ceramics show. What a beautiful find in a still-recovering part of Cedar Rapids!

I watched people file in, and there was definitely a "hippy" vibe. David Wilcox is an insightful, warm folk singer, who performs with just his guitar. His writing is complex (both in terms of text and music) and yet personal, funny and touching. He reads poems that are rhythmic and fun during performance, and all of this seems to attract a specific crowd here in CR. Let's see....I was a little on the younger side, I'd say. A majority of the women seemed to be letting their hair naturally grey. I saw at least one in their sixties with that tell-tale former hippy braid down her back. The jewelry and clothes seemed bought on trips to other countries...Peru, Thailand, and I figured just about everyone in there will try a foreign food without batting an eyelid. In my time alone I thought about hubby, and how he would much rather be watching the Lions play football.

I thought, "am I a hippy?" I mean, I don't see myself as one, but I guess at this point, hippies don't exist too much, they earn too much money to be hippies anymore, right? And just then, Jesus walked in, wearing a pink tie-dye shirt, Kahki shorts with a belt and a pair of sandals, proving that they do exist. So maybe I'm on my way, but not quite there yet.

This concert, like every single time I've seen David Wilcox, involved my tearing up, my renewed faith in a God who shows up when least expected, a little giggling, and a lot of reflection on how I define my life. The first time I saw him perform I felt so grateful he existed. He tells stories the way I long to. I suppose if I hadn't been an opera singer, I would have loved this type of journey....one person, one instrument, and a lifetime of music. I love that his music seems to get happier as he gets older, just like my life does.

Tonight being 9/11 had an incredible introduction by a man who had worked at the WIndows on the World restaurant the first year it existed. He said as an intro that each one of us has their own complex connection to 9/11. And who better to sing about complex connections than David Wilcox, and man he was right.

Here's lyrics to my favorite song of his, which he performed tonight, and the first time I cried.

You say you see no hope,
you say you see no reason we should dream,
that the world would ever change.
You’re saying love is foolish to believe
‘cause there’ll always be some crazy
with an army or a knife
to wake you from your day dream,
put the fear back in your life…

Look, if someone wrote a play
just to glorify what’s stronger than hate,
would they not arrange the stage
to look as if the hero came too late?
He’s almost in defeat,
it’s looking like the evil side will win,
so on the edge of every seat,
from the moment that the whole thing begins,

It is Love who mixed the mortar
and it’s Love who stacked these stones
and it’s Love who made the stage here
although it looks like we’re alone
in this scene set in shadows
like the night is here to stay
there is evil cast around us
but it’s love that wrote the play…
For in this darkness Love can show the way

So now the stage is set.
You feel you own heart beating in your chest.
This life’s not over yet.
And so we get up on our feet and do our best.
We play against the fear.
We play against the reasons not to try
We’re playing for the tears burning in the happy angel’s eyes

I just read this to my husband, crying a little as I read it. I finished and I said, "do not make fun of me for crying." And he said, "hippy!" And we laughed a little.

The Ball

2011-09-01T21:49:00.000-07:00

I wish I knew quite where to start lately. It is an incredibly difficult thing to watch your spouse go through something painful at work. People we trusted seem to now betray for no reason at all. Drama, yelling. And worst of all, this gnawing feeling that he's somehow stayed too long at the ball.

I wholeheartedly believe that who hubby is, and why I love him, has largely to do with this career. I suppose that makes it harder. I would never have met him, never have loved him, if what he did wasn't challenging, creative, and probably ruthless. I don't believe for a second in giving up and living "simply" in that way--if you have the heart to keep going. I never have. and as a person who has had my own rounds with career, the entire thing is even harder.

We've both said if I could somehow find a job that paid well and that I could love, he could certainly take some time off and hopefully watch the baby along with the video games I'm sure he'd love to wrap himself up in.

Everywhere you go, there are goods and bads. I guess we know that. And if you've never been anywhere, you probably suspect it. But some places are better than others. I think about how much I loved NYC sometimes, I miss the good parts. But there were definitely bad parts. Here, I got to sing two roles I dreamed of for years. I would never have thought that. We love the home we've built here (and I mean that somewhat literally--there's been a lot of building here). Daycare, reliable. Help when we needed it.

But I miss the intimate relationships of other places I miss. And it seems Iowa, oddly, has had more than it's share of lies and scandals, of people not being who you thought they 'd be. We are disappointed in churches, and never made a single intimate relationship worth mentioning. And I feel sad about that. I am not a "family beats all" person. Not by any means--I want other types of relationships in my life, and I am so afraid of this being so much the attitude in the midwest that I won't be able to choose friends.

I like the idea of moving closer to hubby's family. But I have a lot of fear about that...sometimes I wonder if hubby's lack of trying for intimate relationships has to do with the cushion of family, and I want Baby S to learn how to form real bonds to people she's not related to. Just as I have been changed and happy in that way. Until I find some real relationships outside of this "Family" world, I am going to feel isolated. And I'm just tired of that. I can't figure out if part of that is me--after all, I wasn't nearly the most social person in either show I was in. Maybe that was my chance?

I've had students drop me recently, reminding me that students and teachers come and go. I've done it, they might love me and still do it. Nothing earthly is forever.

And in the meantime, the idea that this time is ending...the house getting packed up and sold, and our married life starting again, is so daunting I just want to bury my head in my hands. I have fantasies about going into hubby's office and yelling, throwing things, exacting revenge. Because I'd hoped we'd settle a bit here. But the truth is that we've stayed too long at the ball. Too long.

Seen & Heard

2011-08-22T21:13:00.000-07:00

I have a splitting headache tonight. I am not sure if it's from this week of stress, of the churning of our whole little worlds in here, or this pill I'm taking, which seems to function as "gastric bypass in a pill", constricting my stomach and slowing food digestion to give me better blood sugars and help me lose weight. It is not a pill I probably need to be taking. My sugars have been in excellent control for almost a year now. But, as anyone has read on here, I feel hopeless about the weight loss. I don't even get it. And so if a little bit of nausea, burping, heartburn, stomach pain and diarrhea will help...sign me up. Right? I weighed myself this morning and I was down a little short of a pound. Which I don't understand, since basically I hate eating and have lunches consisting of broth and toast. I am eating--just not so much. THe intense workouts at the gym must be doing something too, no? So the thing is, in the last 6 weeks I have lost 4 pounds. And that is weight loss. It is. So I refuse to call this anything less than victory.

I found myself feeling sorry for myself today. I have found myself saying things about not being the "kind of person" who dreams for a career and gets it. I am not the "kind of person" who says they're going to lose the weight and drops a few pounds the first week. I am a slow, patient, tortured plodder most of the time. And this can be something I find peace in, right God? Is that a road to peace or just a "poor me?"

My husband has to find a new career. And this would all be totally fine if I wasn't FINALLY living a life where I get to sing, and make music. And I make some ok money--not enough for him to leave me or anything, but enough to really supplement our life here. And will that happen in the next place? Will it be too urban? Not urban enough? Ugh!

If that wasn't enough to stress me out, there is the whole man/woman thing, where men seem to want to produce a rabbit out of a hat, by themselves, while no one helps or encourages or asks questions about how they're going to do it. And although this man may think "oh, my wife will be so thrilled when it all works out" the truth is I'd rather be a part of this. A partner, a confidant, an advisor and supporter. But at times, I'm not sure what he even wants from me.

I used to pray in NYC that God would see me and make me feel seen. There is something so awful about looking down the barrel of change, rejection, or risk, and not having any idea where that ends. But if I know God's hand is on it, it feels more like a . . .road. A place with a good destination, with places to stop on the way. In NYC, I always felt like people appeared and showed those things to me. And here, I miss that.

I mean, it's better here. It may sound cheezy, but here I get to choose love every day. In NYC I chased love the way I'm chasing weight loss here. Mysteriously, it would not find me. Here it comes easily. But I still find the same feelings, when life gets tough, just wanting to be seen or heard.

My stepsister sent me something that I wrote 5 years ago--that I didn't even remember writing! But I love it.

2006:
Twenty minutes ago I was on my way home from work when a woman, easily in her 80s, with a soft “jewish” accent, said to me, “do you want to see something good?” This being New York I hesitated…but she took my arm and pointed toward a tree, “do you see that there?” and then another tree, “and that?” and a third, “and look at this one right here…Isn’t nature beautiful? Kids play here…the cars go by, and nature keeps growing…and it’s always good.”
And I smiled my way home.

Tough Week

2011-08-17T20:40:00.000-07:00

I started the week with a visit to a specialist--my struggles to move on to something where I can get off medicine for diabetes is something that sits somewhere between physical and emotional, unfortunately, and hurts, badly. It is tough, I am really just on the border, taking low doses of drugs and not seeing high blood sugars. On the medicine I am completely in "controlled" range--but here I am, a person who used to be well, and now is sick.

THe specialist started me on a new drug (and by new, I mean approved last year) and so far that drug means headaches and slight nausea, and I feel quite unenergetic...but reading the reviews of other people, how this drug not only brought down blood sugars, but promises weight loss, I will definitely at least go through this first supply (a free sample). If headaches and nausea would move to a place where I could have a baby again, or feel good about myself, or get off of insulin for the next 20 years, sign me up.

Then today an emergency phone call from my husband came and the reminder of why it sucks to be married to the news was in. This station has him working a record number of shows, and those on his "lowest priority" show are starting to complain. So ---at previous stations, he has produced one show a week (like...the 6pm news). All of the other producers do one or two shows. And he works two shows a day three days a week, and three shows a day on the weekend. At 45 hours a week, he is already overworked. And they are telling him he's not putting enough time in to the third show. Scolding him. Using awful management tactics of ganging up on him and saying 'everyone's complaining' when he knows it's not everyone.

And then the follow-up email. The paperwork that says, "this is the news, and we're preparing that firing you will seem somehow humane, and somehow have to do with non-performance, rather than the fact you never went out drinking with us."

And there's the news. And all of our stability just went to crap. We are scrambling tonight, pulling up jobs, working on resumes, and of course he's wasting time responding to the email that I know has nothing to do with compromise or good management (this manager is pure self-serving reactionary stuff, no actual leadership). Hell, in his first month on the job he drank with the staff and took home a 21 year old from the office. Resulting in a small suspension. Blech.

So I'm mad, but hubby's madder, and so there's nothing I can do but hope he doesn't come out cursing and swinging. And that somehow we find a job that's not in the news.

In the meantime, the headache is coming on again.

Community

2011-08-14T13:51:00.000-07:00

Oh jeez. I forgot about this month after the show when I always feel a little depressed. How did I forget about that? I notice there being a little bit of a depressing spin on my thoughts. I went to an award ceremony last night, where I tied as winner for "best lead actress in a musical" at a local theater for my role in Sweeney Todd, and it was wonderful. But the next day I feel this sense of sadness that I never seem to be on the "inside" of the lovefest that is the arts. It's my own fault. I come off of a show enjoying people and respecting them as artists, but I don't write "I miss you so much it hurts" on their facebook walls.

And I guess that's why, when the playful, loving, ribbing comes on, I'm not really a part of it. That's ok....except, it looks fun from the outside. I wish I knew what my "community" was. I have lots of places where I enjoy people, but no place I can't walk away from. Somehow, I guess that's my personality. But I still feel like I'm supposed to be different. Like I'm supposed to be on the inside. Or something.

So let's just talk about my new obsession. I want another baby. I'm actually kind of ready now, but I won't do it until I weigh 50 pounds less. I WILL NOT. Because it would be bad for me, bad for the baby. And yet I can't seem to lose that. I'm seeing an endocrynologist on Tuesday. And hubby is expecting a new hope, new answers. It's like the Obama election up in here....but I'm a little afraid of the "usual results". Lots of talk and little change. *sigh* I do sound depressed.

Apparently babies are like potato chips? Who knew.

So, I've got a good life, but now a reminder that it doesn't matter where I am, I am always on the outside. It's not bad....I have a ton of love. But if hubby wants to move me, I just gave him the bright green light. And hopefully in the next spot, I'll be 50 pounds thinner and getting pregnant.

And if wanting it were the same as making it happen, it would be awesome.

I want a church again. REALLY< REALLY REALLY. I miss it so much. But finding, re-committing, that all seems like a task I'm hardly up to this moment. Hubby's on the same page, but it's hardly an easy page.

Mom & Baby's Day Out

2011-08-08T07:48:00.000-07:00

I am on major mommy burnout. It happened fast. The last week in July I was performing in a show, with plenty of help--hell, I was practically MISSING the kid! And then everyone left, and the house was quiet, and that was nice. The show was over, I had time to rest, and we are transitioning daycares....and then I realized it was just me and her. Day after day. Hubby working 50 hours a week, and me doing all of my teaching with a baby. A well behaved baby--but instead of say, resting, in the middle of teaching 9 lessons, I'm fixing noodles and juice, turning on Elmo. Cleaning up something destructive she's done to entertain herself (the kitchen floor currently has an enormous piece of crayon artwork on it, and I'm just not in the mood to get on my knees and scrub yet).

In addition, at night, after the teaching is done, I get at least a few hours of just me and the baby, cooped up in here. I'm too exhausted to go do anything, so I try to just run around doing "damage control" until her blessed hour of sleep. The weekends, when I'm generally not teaching, are worse. That's a 12 hour day with no hubby, no help, nothing but me and Baby S. No friends, no plans, just me and Baby S.

Don't get me wrong, I laugh with her, she's insanely affectionate, she wants to kiss and cuddle and play funny games, brush my hair and sing songs. With a baby, you stay in an "in love" phase for a long time....it's like early on in dating someone where you just keep saying to yourself "ahhhh, they're wonderful, aren't they?" but there's another end to it. The part where you wish you could give her away for a day or two.

Yesterday, afraid of being stuck here, I packed her in the car and drove 30 miles (she slept the whole 30) to a local "pick your own" orchard (apples $2 a pound, and usually a fun time). I love stuff like this. The weather was hot, but not unbearable, although it seemed to get more unbearable. I bought her a "fresh apple slushie" which she would not let me have a sip of (and continued to scream at me when I tried). We walked down a path and looked at apple trees, threw stones into the creek (and then, unfortunately, accidentally threw the apple slushie into the creek). We collected apples in a basket until she wanted to be picked up (the heat getting to both of us). I said, "ok, I'll hold you, but you have to hold the basket". That lasted about 3 minutes until she said, "take it" (her new favorite phrase) and then I carried the baby and the apple basket.

After a bit, I realized I'd walked too far, and the only possible way of getting back a little more quickly was to cross the creek. So we took off our shoes and socks and I held her hand as we waded across the creek. It was the coolest part of the journey (temperature wise) and definitely her favorite, as she then made me cross it a few more times before I called it off. We were just climbing out when I heard a vehicle coming and scrambled to get out. It was a man (probably in his 80s) driving an old John Deere tractor with the name BESSIE painted on it, and a big wagon full of about 5-6 families. He said, "do you want a ride?" and we hopped on (thank God) and got to ride around for a while.

The whole thing was fun, and the kind of day I love to spend with her, but the expectation that somehow I might have exhausted her (the way I did myself) never seems to pan out. So the night was long--with lots of games and periodic destruction...and me begging her to relax, plying her with sweets, hoping for her to go to bed so I could just have some time alone.

She didn't fall asleep until 10:45, and soon after I crashed, not really letting me have any of that sweet mommy time. Today is another day of me and her (hubby is working on his day off today) but it at least means when i teach on Wednesday he'll be watching her.

I suppose the thing in my head I can't get rid of is how soon I'll want to sing again. Right now I'm too exhausted to even think about it.

Will I be pretty? Will I be rich?

2011-07-25T11:28:00.000-07:00

Here's what she said to me......

Um, it is 1:30 in the afternoon and I am in my nightgown, listening to the sweet, sweet sound of the baby finally falling asleep (can I get an amen?) Hubby's just put her down, to great wailing and nashing of teeth, and her signature tossing of the binky into the air as protest.

I have an injury, and opening night is Thursday. It's not small. I have a bit of a "tricky calf" meaning that 6 years ago in NYC I ripped the muscle, my foot turning blue with the blood in my leg, the pain unbelievably sharp and unstoppable. I spent 5 weeks on crutches.

Last night, amidst hopping and doing the Charleston as Katisha, my 3 inch platform shoe broke. And then I felt a pop, and then happiness as we know it did a grand pregnant pause. I hadn't been having a good night--the director barked at me twice for walking the wrong direction onstage and because of poor time management on someone's (cough cough) part, it was the FIRST time I'd ever run the scene on stage. Confusion? Ahem, of course. I hadn't even gotten to run that scene for 3 days, so no big surprise, right? I don't like being barked at.

So the injury is not as bad (by any means) as the one I'd previously described. Already, after about 12 hours of R.I.C.E. I am feeling a little better, and can easily walk to the kitchen. I can't speak for my charleston, though, and I'm a little worried. Thursday? Doable. Tonight's dress? Eh.

The baby saw her first movie last night, though I wasn't there. Winnie the Pooh. Had my mother not been an hour early for the film, it would have gone better. She hated the previews, apparently. But sat, unflinching, from 7:15 to 8:10. My mother said she had to check her for signs of sleep. Then at 8:10, tired of the whole thing, and got up to leave, so my mother did too.

I lost a pound this week! YAY! That makes 3. Each one worked for like crazy. What makes me especially sad is that my 5 intense workouts at the gym are probably responsible (at least in part) for both the weight loss and the leg injury. hardly seems worth it, you say? BIte your tongue. This pound is a long time coming.

So I'm frightened, and I don't know what's coming next, ugh. Who likes that? I have been reading singers' bios today, feeling jealous, I guess a bit. Nothing like when I was younger. At some point, i guess it's kind of like winning the lottery...I mean, you can hardly be jealous of the guy down the street who just won the lottery, right? Fate. Whatnot.

It set me off a bit that a guy yesterday in rehearsal (a sweetheart of a man) told me that I had a "robust" voice, and then laughed nervously, as if he had just told the biggest-chested woman he'd ever met that she was "busty". . . so I took the compliment, the awkwardness actually improving it. Then I wondered for a while, how do you sell a big voice? He made recommendations for the local Iowa auditions, most of which I'd done. Of course, the Verdi requiem solo that the Iowa City Chamber Choir just did was sung by a lady who sings at the Met sometimes...hmmm....so I can't really compete with that, Right?

At what point, might they want me because I've got chops? I've come to think just about never.

So in the meantime, I keep singing, and icing my leg. I am enjoying the moment. Preparing for another audition, throwing my hat into the ring and wishing for the best. Que sera, sera. (sing it!)

This Time Around

2011-07-21T07:49:00.000-07:00

I am currently looking at doing another audition in August. It's 7 hours away, and most of me does not want to do it. But I believe a very necessary part of "mainting the craft" is auditioning. Kind of like the lottery slogan "you can't win if you don't play." So, I'm planning it.

This show has been so exhausting. I can't decide if it's the drive down or the schedule outside of the show, or just me? I just bought a bottle of Vitamin B supplements, hoping that will help with my energy. I just feel like sleeping half the day. I also miss the baby, and she misses me. I am currently indulging her in an hour of Sesame Street (also known as "Elmo") while downing a bottle of chocolate milk (something I should, perhaps, have never exposed her to) and sitting on mom's lap. Of course, it's more like crushing mom. She likes to lay back and push her head into mine as far as it will go. Super unpleasant. And right now she is elbowing my stomach. But she hasn't had mommy time in so long that I feel she should get it.

When my mother drove her to a babysitter yesterday she spent half the ride yelling "Bubby Stop, Bubby Stop" because she didn't want to leave me. Heartwrenching.

She has really been staying up late, which is not helpful for any of us. Last night it was about midnight before she went down, which means inevitably 1am for me and 2am for hubby. Ugh. I am not sure if she's staying up to hang out with me, but honestly after rehearsal I'd really rather crash a lot faster.

There is a whole world that opens up when your toddler falls asleep, a million things you've been waiting to do. In the past 2 years I've grown accustomed to looking at my husband and holding up my arms in "victory" when baby S finally falls asleep....I imagine that will last a while.

Ok--Elmo's over. Tears and gnashing of teeth. We may eventually need to hold an intervention.

Center Stage

2011-07-19T22:09:00.000-07:00

Ahhh, it is late and I feel exhausted but far from sleep. I worked out (hard) and had a HUGE coffee before rehearsal at 6pm....it seemed at the time to be necessary but now I'm a little worried that tomorrow will start too late. It's a hard balance--the late rehearsals and the early start to being a mom and teacher each day.

This was the first night in a while that I came home to a sleeping baby....blissss.

TOnight's run-through was surprisingly smooth. For a piece that is as specifically directed as this one, each scene is like a memory test, and somehow to stay in character is a real challenge for me. I am frightened of the huge costume (the wig which must weigh 10 pounds and the 3 inch tall shoes) and the dancing! Ugh...somehow I know it will work. I will never forget listening in to a rehearsal of young college students years ago trying to learn a Mozart quartet and the music director (possibly half drunk) saying to them, "Stupider people than you have learned this quartet." Sometimes I say that to myself when a show seems too difficult.

The most challenging part, the thing which made me want to write a blog entry tonight, was the notes. The run-through finished early and the director (a very kind and patient, sweetly funny man) gave copious notes. Mine seemed mostly positive, and I was encouraged. And then he lightly said, "You know, I have never seen a mezzo stay away from center stage more than you." He joked that most opera singers are drawn into center stage, and the room laughed, and my chest fell. I cried on the way home. Somehow, I wanted to ask myself, "is this it? IS this me? Am I just still so lacking in internal confidence at this point that I don't want to be center stage?"

In real life I feel like I am so much more "look at me look at me" than anyone I meet...but in the opera world, I want to hang out in the corner, seriously learn my part, skip the drinks at dinner, schmooze little, and avoid affairs with the tenor or flirting with the entire cast. And I ask myself if THIS part of me, this non-opera person that I still seem to be in this environment, is a big part of why I'm not as successful as I once dreamed of being.

I wonder if, at an audition, some part of me says, "I don't belong in center stage. Maybe someone else here will look more like they deserve to be there."

When I came home and cried it to hubby, he said gently that he didn't want to hurt me, but the truth is I am always looking for some sort of answer. Is it my weight? Is it my technique? Is it my confidence? And at some point I just have to stop looking for the answers and just love the thing I love.

He is so right about this. I am center stage right now. LOVE IT, PIPES. LOVE IT.

worry about the shoes instead or something. Right?

Directors

2011-07-15T23:02:00.000-07:00

I was thinking of blogging tonight about more of the stuff I'm struggling with, about the exhaustion, about my feelings of worthlessness regarding my weight, about how wonderful my husband is and about how I'm missing my daughter lately, being busy and rehearsing in every free hour.

But instead, I'm going to write about directors.

I find generally (in my world) there are 3 types of directors.

1. The opera director. These guys are usually older, flamboyant, possibly with foreign accents, and almost always men. They like few rehearsals, and are much more interested in painting visual pictures with singers than exploring the characters. They know the terms, they know the music, but there aren't many new ideas. They try to pull off big stuff--like 80 person choruses or live animals, but miss things like the complexity of relationships on stage.

2. The theater director. Everything is about character with these guys--they believe the whole thing is driven by the cast and stage embodying this experience. They like a lot of rehearsals. They want time to flesh things out. THey don't tell you much about what to do beyond the "blocking" (the places to stand) and then they encourage the actor/singer to find the magic. They are patient, but occasionally annoying as they don't seem to manage time as well, being more indulgent with just about everything. (generally, they often smoke).

3. The musical theater/operetta director. These folks are high energy, and seem to have the biggest job here--they have to get a real feeling of the characters while also finding "buttons" (the places in the music where you create a sudden, perfect picture on stage). They are often manic, often change their ideas, and usually explode at some point during the production. They are occasionally brilliant, I think often because they have chosen this difficult way of expressing themselves.

My favorite thing to do is usually to be directed in a musical theater or opera production by a theater director (the type 2). This is because I like having some freedom. I don't like micromanagement on stage. Generally, though, I tend to get frustrated with them by the end, as they run out of time--it's 3 days left before the dress rehearsal and there's a whole chunk of the staging that they haven't dealt with. The lack of time management is hard.

I don't care if they don't know the word "aria". Some opera singers seem annoyed when the directors don't know musical terms. I have never found that to be a hindrance to a great show.

My least favorite is the opera director. I can't tell you how many times I've had to "re-direct" myself as part of an opera chorus where the director literally learned NO ONE's name who wasn't a lead in the show. I have spent HOURS in boring rehearsals where directors were indulged by casts as they played with the pictures and never once talked about the fun--the story, the characters, the lifeblood of the show.

The musical theater director is in the middle for me. I worked once with a famous one who changed things up until the very last second of rehearsals--trying to fine tune, to innovate. I have worked with those who seemed to direct and choreograph our every move. These folks are just EXHAUSTING. But like I said before, sometimes a little trust and you see brilliance.

I suppose these types have a little to do with background and a little more to do with where the directors find they "fit". They cross over each other all the time. But just like singers, eventually they seem to land somewhere that makes sense for them.

I am so exhausted tonight after working the Act I finale for this show. The director has demanded bigger, bigger, bigger. But by the time I get to stand up, I've been sitting and drinking coffee for 4 hours, just trying to stay awake, missing my baby. I know this is a challenge for the role, that she doesn't appear until the whole first act is almost over. . . but someone, please.. . help a mama out.

Mall of America

2011-07-13T21:51:00.000-07:00

The last few vacations have been my "brain children".. . meaning the ideas originated with me and I saw them through to the actual trips. But I promised hubby that come the 3rd anniversary of our marriage (wow....does it feel like just three years or should I say how could it be 3 years already?) he could pick the trip. And in keeping with our marriage theme of "we don't really like the same stuff" he picked the Mall of America in Bloomington, Minnesota.

sigh.

So for the last few months I have been saving for a trip to the big mall. Consumerism is alive and well, apparently, as this four story mall with an amusement park in the center was THRIVING on a random Tuesday in July. It was not just teens, not just kids, not just families, not just Americans. It was really--um, everybody.

The trip was really nice. The hotel we stayed in GORGEOUS, with two indoor swimming pools and a hot tub (all enjoyed by us, very nice) a bed you wanted to run away with, and generally a pretty good deal, including mall coupons and a really good free breakfast. It was also 4 hours in the car (each way) which normally would be fairly awful, but was actually not that bad. We have trained ourselves by doing 10 hour trips with a baby and two dogs, so that now 5 hours is actually not that bad!

We talked about our daughter for most of the trip--and about half of what we bought there were things for her. We stopped at that by pledging to each other that we wouldn't buy anything else for her. I noticed we also did a lot of impressions of her, and pretty much everything had some sort of baby reference. I was dying to get away with her and in less than 48 hours missed her. Weird.

I am coming back to the SHOW, which is fun and frustrating. They changed a few schedules this week and seem to have trouble understanding that my original list of conflicts and their original schedules were VERY IMPORTANT CONCEPTS. So once again, I feel like someone thinks my time is worthless, and that honestly is crap. Even in the arts, time is paid for with cash. And I find that anything you give someone for free becomes intrinsically worthlesss. UGH.

I received an email from one of the girls in the cast that she wanted to collect $10 from each person to get gifts for the director, music director, conductor, pianist, and stage manageers. All of whom are being paid for their services. When we are not. Does that sound right? I am trying to figure out how to diplomatically decline. I am happy to give you a gift--when I feel you haven't been compensated well enough for what you did. These folks are compensated plenty. And not one of them has volunteered to pay my gas. Especially when they call me to drive down for 30 minutes and then don't manage their time well enough to use me in the rehearsal. DO I sound bitter?

It's still fun. Katisha= fun, fun fun. At the end of the day, whether I like the cast or not, or the admin, or the stage manager, I am in love with the role. That's the thing that will make me long for it the moment that curtain hits the ground.

The Big But

2011-07-05T08:21:00.000-07:00

It's late, and I can't believe we're in our second week of July. I know a few people who died tragically young in July. I guess--that sounds like I'm not making enough of the loss of each person. But that is not the point at all, I guess it's just that this month is filled with lots of remembering and a certain type of melancholy. On July 12, I lost Dari, my lifelong friend who at times I loved so much I thought I could forego a husband and run away with her. Dari was life itself, full of ideas and fun and love. But she also was always being chased by demons, things she couldn't escape. And her risks were always so big....as if pushed from behind by fear or memories or compulsion. We fought over this. It was so hard to be her friend and not constantly want to save her. And that's how we lost her. In an accident that will forever make me conscious of head injuries.

I lost a friend from grad school, Susan, to Leukemia in July a few years ago. The year I moved to NYC, I had no one to love there, and my birthday came around. That morning, I got a package at the door of my apartment, and it was an enormous beautiful bouquet of flowers--sent by Susan, whom I felt I'd hardly known. She wrote me supportive emails, I sang at her wedding, and she filled every day with laughter. I think she made it past 40, barely.

My friend Jennifer from high school died a few years after her wedding. She was in a coma so long that I couldn't remember if she actually passed in July, it might have been June. But it was definitely mid-summer. She did amazing animal impressions, could recite most of the Wizard of Oz by heart, and invited me into her heart and life more than once. When I think of her husband, and how he must still grieve, I usually tear up.

So here's an odd turn in this email. I have this life so packed with joy, and I often don't let myself experience it because of my weight. I have, in the past two years, had this weight problem that will NOT budge. I have been true to diets, exercised, written down my food, seen a counselor, and I called my husband from an opera rehearsal tonight, in tears, telling him that it was the last straw, and I needed him to get me to lap band surgery--because I can't seem to get myself there. I am so afraid of everyone saying I gave up, I couldn't try, I didn't "do it" the way I was supposed to.

And that is my big but. That is the thing that keeps me from enjoying a night like tonight, where I sang a role I've always wanted to do in a rehearsal with a director who was amazingly full of ideas and inspiration. It is the thing that keeps me from fully living right now, from wanting to wear sexy stuff for my hubby, from fully engaging with my genius little daughter. It is the thing that interrupts my relationship with God, and makes me feel in rehearsal like I'm the biggest woman there, and therefore not really as worthy as everyone else--despite my multiple compliments and my pure, pure joy in being there.

I don't know what's next. All I can do is throw myself prostrate at the medical community and God's hope and ask for something that will make this nightmare end. And yet, part of me just wishes I would just be fat, live with it, die a little younger, and not live every moment of my life in penance of this thing at which I feel I've failed.

And I guess the other point is this: All of those beautiful women at the beginning of this email are not remembered for their size. They were all different sizes, and all 3 causes of death had not a thing to do with whether their guts were big. And sure as I write this, anyone who adored them would gratefully add 100 pounds to their weight and have them back in their lives.

So somehow...SOMEHOW I have to learn that life must fully go on and be filled with satisfaction and happiness regardless of whether I am the heaviest I have ever been. It must, somehow, not eat me alive, so to speak. I have to somehow, someway learn to deal with my big but.

The Last Post in June

2011-06-29T21:52:00.000-07:00

This blog is dedicated to my lifelong friend. I went shopping for her, but I did not get anything. Then I thought of a brilliant other idea, and got lost on the way to the store. Then an unexpected bill went through (my husband neglected to mention setting the insurance up on autopay) and I had 35 dollars in the account, and so I waited, and now that there's enough money, there's no time to send it. So HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my friend who in 7 minutes will be 38 here in Iowa. Though she's not in Iowa. We have gone through some amazing times together--we have fought and laughed and grown in both different and the same directions. This is one birthday I could never forget.

Here's a phrase I hate "the pounds melted off of me". I mean, I don't hate it, because every time I hear it it sounds as good as "I won the lottery". But I have never once in my life experienced something where weight melted off of me. On my best, most restrictive diet, the pounds slowly & ploddingly came off. Once, I fasted for two days and then did 7 days of the cabbage soup diet. I did lose- I think - 6 pounds that week. That felt like melting. But I also wanted to eat my own leg off.

I suppose there was a time where I would have felt a little bit of "poor me" from this, but at this point, I figure it's just my thing. Everyone has a thing that's hard, so that's mine. But I am tempted tonight to beat myself up that my calories have not been great the past few days.

I started a new medication that makes me feel pretty ill. But I have read that it can result in some weight loss at the beginning, and that would be awesome. I can't help but think insulin is really working against my weight loss--I have NEVER worked this hard, this consistently, and seen so few results.

Anyhoo, on a brighter note, hubby's parents brought out TUBS AND TUBS of his toys from childhood. They kept -what looks like-ALL of them! Amazing. I don't have a single toy from my childhood. At first I thought it was a bummer, and then hubby gave me permission to sell them on ebay *rubbing hands together*. You know what he has? Diecast vintage tractors! Do you know what those sell for? Some of them sell for almost 100 bucks a piece on ebay! It's like I won the lottery, though it will be a lot of work to list all of these, many sell for 20-30 bucks, and that's 20-30 bucks we would not have had. Maybe we will finally make a significant dent in these medical bills. FINGERS CROSSED.

Baby S wore a pair of underpants around the house tonight. UNDERPANTS! When did she become a kid? She still peed in them, but we're moving, we're getting there. One morning the sun will rise and she'll be potty trained. She asks me questions, and walks through the store calling out the names of everything: "yogurt, milk, crackers, that!, snack, chocolate" ....it's a very different way of experiencing the supermarket.

I have more to say...must blog again tomorrow. But if you receive a text from me that doesn't make sense, please note it's from the baby. She's figured out where the "send" button is.

Mama

2011-06-26T22:44:00.000-07:00

Soft and Destructive
and Faintly smelling of sweat
I am not sure how to hold your ever-ganglier legs
which willingly kick with no thought of safety
You say "OK"
and stroke my face
and hit me, though you know you shouldn't
Nothing is more frightening and exciting
than you becoming you
demanding Elmo
requesting chocolate milk
and laughing as you point to your belly
I am not who I was two years ago
I am me, reflected in your questioning eyes
that can't look at me when I've scolded you
but sometimes look at me with a type of love
I thought I'd never feel and
I highly recommend it.

There is Beauty in the Bellow of the Blast

2011-06-23T22:18:00.000-07:00

Tonight was probably my favorite way to spend the night. I drove down to Iowa City, sang in a rehearsal of the Mikado, listened to beautiful voices and felt really complimented by their reactions to me, doing a role I've always thought I'd love to do. The rehearsal was smooth, well-scheduled, and I can't wait for the staging to begin.

Then I came home and cuddled up into bed with an exhausted 2 year old, who likes to look up at me and stroke my face before falling asleep. (Then of course she screams for a few minutes and tries to kick me, and then falls unconscious, it's all part of the routine).

The last week we've been ripping out the attic piece by piece with my husband's parents. I suppose I feel quite a bit of guilt about the fact that every time they visit, they spend the whole time doing babysitting and difficult home improvement projects. At one point during the visit hubby said something to this effect to me, and then of course when I asked him if we could just not have them do the project he looked at me as if I were insane. Maybe we just don't talk about this? It's so much easier over-hashing everything with my mother, perhaps we overcommunicate, but it's the thing i know better.

Baby S looks more like "little girl S" lately. I have printed out instructions on "3 day potty training". Sounds like fun, no? Through this trip she has asked me whole questions like "Nana go?" when she can't find her grandmother. I looked forward to this stage from the time she was in my womb....when we would play make-believe and have four word conversations and she would still want me to tickle her. I don't miss the baby part too much, but this I will miss.

My husband just commented on the Lifetime TV commercials playing in the background. I have gotten into a habit of absconding to the bedroom where I watch only girly television programs and movies. It's like taking back my womanhood. I haven't seen a movie without an explosion in it (in the theater) for about a year. In my list of "things husbands are good for" I would definitely leave out "getting to see the movies you want". During previews on our last date night hubby leaned over to me during the "cowboys and aliens" preview and said, "somehow I'm seeing that." And I openly sighed, knowing I would be seeing it too.

He bought me a dress today, and it's pretty and fits, but I need to lose 25 pounds before I will show my arms in a dress. I'm working, I'm losing, I can feel it. A pair of pants now fits me again. I'm going to see the dr. tomorrow to beg for another medication so I won't have to fight medicine to lose weight. But I feel so terrible telling him I wouldn't wear it until I was thinner. He shrugged. He knew I would say that, and he hoped otherwise.

Sometimes I miss the excitement of NYC. Sometimes I see people with pictures of themselves at the Tony awards or in Chinatown or living that "something new every day" life, and I miss it. But I waited 6 years of living there to sing in shows like this, to feel like a real singer, doing full roles with an orchestra, knowing it would probably sell out...and then I get it in Iowa? I thought I'd work through the loneliness, and then I find Mr. Right and he drags me out here.

I don't think I can tie this one together, this blog. I am just as confused tonight by the good stuff as the trials right now. But I am seriously happy. Ha-ha-ha-happy.

Probably Never

2011-06-15T22:00:00.000-07:00

In moments that I'm not usually proud of, I start making lists of "probably never". Like, I'll probably never wear a bikini (outside the confines of my house), or I'll probably never be on the Met stage at this point, or maybe even I'll probably never live in a big city again. Those kinds of things. It's awfully strange, to feel like I need to put a finger on what I don't think is possible to accomplish. But I guess, as someone who dreams big (and I do--trust me--the list of "maybes" is much longer) there is going to be a downside.

I've been questioning, as someone who feels a little disillusioned by the pursuit of a music career that has had more surprises than satisfying moments, how to pass this stuff on to students. I mean, how do you bridge encouragement and practical advice? When Martin Katz told me all I had was green lights, did he know about the heartbreak I would go through? Did he know I would see a counselor in NYC because I couldn't stop trying to seek validation in negative places, after opera company on top of opera company told me I was good but not quite what they wanted?

so today I gave a hard lecture to an undisciplined student. But I found myself saying as I talked to her that she had the magic, that she had something special in her voice, something unusual, but she was nowhere near keeping up with the big girls. I tried, I put my fears aside, and I tried.

I hate being told by students that their parents want them to audition for American Idol (if you don't know this--it's very common in a talented kid now). Because American idol is like the posterchild for People Who Don't Think They Need to Work for It. It reminded me of a statistic from the movie "Waiting for Superman" (which, by the way, I have not seen, it sounds depressing) where they talk about how Americans rank low in everything education-related except for confidence. We have a bizarre amount of confidence that a little talent is all it takes for a life in music. Eek. If only people knew...

But there's an upturn to this stupid blog this evening. I just saw a movie, a fictional movie, a sappy, fictional movie where everybody's hair looks perfect all the time, and I always find myself believing that there is just a moment coming. . . a moment when things can change and that whole "probably never" thing will suddenly be a "you won't believe this..." because I used to say I would probably never find someone who wanted to marry me or I would "probably never" have my own apartment in NYC.

Years ago, for no reason at all, a judge at the Met Competition pulled me aside and said someday I would be rolling in piles of money. And then he didn't pick me as a winner. And the director I'm about to work with next month doesn't even remember that 3 years ago I auditioned for him and he said he was honored to hear a voice like mine (one of the best compliments of my life) and then didn't hire me. In fact, he's been hired to work on my show, and has never hired me at all.

So somewhere in there, probably never is just a reason not to keep going. I'm tired of giving myself reasons.

Possibly. Someday. Those are way better reasons.

DVR

2011-06-14T20:37:00.000-07:00

Next week the in-laws come...gearing up for a snug house, a new room upstairs, and looking for a new place to teach for a day or two....the summer continues!

I just realized I have 9 days to memorize the role of Katisha, which I haven't touched in some time. Ummm...better get on that now. NOW!

I was thinking today of the obvious genders of our DVR Lists today.

Hubby:
American Chopper
"Halloween" the movie: a History
Any game Michigan is playing that he's not home for
Sports Talk with Norm McDonald

Me:
Project Runway
Top Chef (when we had Bravo, sigh)
Drop Dead Diva (so embarrassed to admit that)
Sesame Street (so I can clean the house at any time)
Parks & Recreation

I also DVR "The Voice". I can't decide if I like it. It's definitely better than American idol, but partially I record it because all of the self-promotional stuff makes the show twice as long as it neeeds to be.

On a totally unrelated note, I am trying to figure out whether to give a student some "tough talk" tomorrow. After a year of studying, my most "naturally" talented student is the least improved, and I think it's because she has a false idea of what's really out there. Or maybe she's just undisciplined? I don't know what my responsibility is...do I wait for students to come up with a little bit of strength and desire on their own or do I keep pushing them and letting their mothers and I do the work? I'm so confused on this part.

8 students tomorrow. Long day. Good thing I have some DVR'd stuff to watch when I get home!

Must the Show Go On

2011-06-09T20:44:00.000-07:00

The last three days have been so exhausting that I feel like falling into a heap, hiding under my bed, never coming out again.

TOnight was my students' recital. These are the students I feel the most invested in--the very first students in Iowa, who babysit my daughter, come to my home, whose mothers I have chatted on with endlessly, and whose voices I feel incredibly invested in. There was so much more work than I thought involved with this recital.

I hired a pianist, a pianist with good chops who knows singers and works mostly in opera. I wanted them to taste that kind of rehearsal. Some described him as "mean", but watching the rehearsals I found him incredibly kind and patient (good luck to those kids when they finally meet a "mean" pianist). While reliable, he also had a tendency to not answer emails, get overwhelmed with his "other" job, and had to cancel and reschedule 3 rehearsals starting on Monday night. I used the text message function on my phone FOUR MILLION TIMES, it seemed, trying to set everyone up.

Needing the money, I taught 5 lessons today, printed and copied programs, baked 4 dozen cookies with my husband (he did most of it, but I did some AND washed all those freaking dishes), prepared students, text messaged anxious parents, bought bags of ice, bottles of water, watched the piano rehearsals so I could tell each and every student when to be there, then went home and realized the baby and I had ONE hour to get dressed, eat dinner, and get back to the church.

During that hour the baby tossed a 1 liter bottle of cranberry juice (open) on the floor, tore off her diaper, filled cups with a mysterious liquid, ruined my strawberry plants, threw pots and pans on the floor, and destroyed my summer student contact list.

There are moments when you really don't like your own child. Trust me. There are moments when you think, "how can I get rid of you?" and if you're sane, you ignore them for a few minutes and you let it pass, I guess. So I loaded up the car, put her in a fancy dress, and never finished dressing myself. I left for the recital with the wrong shoes, no makeup and my hair undone, since I lost too much time cleaning up cranberry juice.

oh, I should get to the recital.

My students were all there waiting, they looked lovely, they smiled big smiles and I felt such a strong affection for all of them. The church was beautiful, parents helped me unpack the car, the baby was whisked away by various people, and before I knew it the whole thing was set up. I took the students into a small room and warmed them up without a piano, just my voice. I gave them the following pep talk:

Ok guys, you're all ready for this. And I'll tell you a secret. Four of you approached me and told me you thought you were the worst singer in the group. So if you're thinking that now, statistically, it's unlikely, and probably something your fear is telling you. The truth is you are walking into a room full of people who love you, and you are going to knock their socks off. I can't wait to be entertained by you, and that's how everyone else feels. Thank you for being my students, I am proud of each and every one of you.

And then we walked out, and I took the mic, and said a bunch of random crap I don't remember. I do remember making a VERY funny joke and getting no laughter! Crickets! It was a rough crowd.

There were some miracles. The guy with no rhythm got all his entrances correctly. The duet the girls didn't know came off like a dream. The shy girl acted. The first girl stood in silence for about 20 seconds not sure if she wanted to sing. It was amazing. I breathed every breath with them, and now I am pooped.

I made each kid translate or explain each of their songs, write out a brief introduction to it, and then we traded, so that kids introduced each other and their songs. This proved to be a brilliant way of keeping the recital moving AND provided for such gems as one girl introducing a song from the musical ANESTHESIA (which should have been ANASTASIA) and another explaining that Oklahoma! was a musical about a love story between Larry and Curly. (That was my fave of the night).

There were smiles all around, and cookies, and I felt so proud. It really is quite a feeling, but I am not doing that again until I can forget the insanity. I shared with one mother, as I watched Hubby and Baby S drive off from the church, that I wished I could just get in my car and drive and drive.

See Me See Me

2011-06-06T22:37:00.000-07:00

I've had a good week, although I have indulged a little in jealousy. I now see this as an indulgence--I am tempted to walk down the road, I walk it, and then I roll around in it like a pig in mud....rolling from website of successful singer to successful singer...noticing how thin other people look...it's like drinking cream right out of the bottle.

So I don't think I want to go on about it. It's pointless, and never gets me anywhere. Anyone who has studied voice has had the one sad, bitter teacher who needs to remind you how glorious they once were, if only someone had notice. It's like sweatpants, it really doesn't make anyone look good. Instead, I am trying to live in the moment. Today I sat in a kiddy pool in the backyard with my toddler screaming for joy and hubby watering his beautiful garden. I got a new student, prayed with hubby and I recorded what I ate. I had a good day.

Hubby is so miserable at work, and I found myself screaming and cursing last night after hearing yet another backstabbing coworker trying to ask if he could work an extra 3 hours a week (he currently works around 55, I never see him, and yet we are not even rich to compensate! It's just wrong. And if you don't know that asking a father of a two year old to work 60 hours a week is wrong, you are not a thoughtful person. It doesn't take much to be better than that, no?)

But where are we going next? Will i get students there? Will there be any singing there at all? ugh. It's all I can do to try and shove that anxiety somewhere. No wonder I'm eating more sugar than I want to.

A few months ago I blocked an old friend on facebook. I finally decided a majority of her statuses were offensive. It's the first time I've done that, but it has made me so much happier not to see her daily bashing of fat people, old people, ugly people, the "uncool", republicans, christians, and occasionally the poor. In between that were lots of postings about how we need to be kinder to animals and pro-gay marriage posts. I waited for a while for her to mature--did she see that the pain of someone asking for rights, feeling forgotten, is certainly within an old republican, a fat poor person, a christian? I don't get that. There is no majority free of needing respect. And so I gave up.

See me. Isn't that what everyone is saying? Even me! See me.

Those Who Can't, Teach

2011-06-02T21:57:00.000-07:00

Last week one of my student's mothers mentioned that while her daughter would love to study music, she definitely doesn't want to teach, so they weren't sure what her future would hold.

Pretty much everyone I knew growing up said the same thing. Music-yes. Teaching-no. I think there is some sort of idea that if you have failed, if you couldn't cut it, well then teaching was an option.

I don't know if I ever felt strongly one way or the other. I didn't plan on being anything but the world's greatest singer, so I'm not sure WHAT I thought. THe possibility of living in Iowa with a family and teaching students was really not on my list of goals (and I did have a damn good list). This week has felt pretty different.

Sometimes I can't believe that all I do is music. It seems like such a far cry from mind-numbing (60K a year) office work. Soul-crushing, but I did have all my debts paid. Sometimes I randomly thank my husband, "thank you for going to work every day so that I can take care of Baby S and teach and sing all I want". He smiles, I think he loves that. Of course, I married someone who was following his dreams, and chooses the dream job over the money job, so who knows how much blood we'll have to sell to pay for debts. But at the end of the day, I wasn't able to do this as a single person. Back then, the bills said that teaching and singing wasn't enough.

I am in between two recitals. One, for my students at the high school. What an experience--watching how my students had grown, delighting in the way they surprised me, and how well they performed. Feeling a warm sense of gratitude I don't get from performance. At the same time, now with my "teacher mind" all perked up, I picked out students I wanted to work with. Even better was having the choir teachers approach me afterward and tell me that my work was noticeable, and impressive. And offering me the possibility of teaching lessons at another high school was pretty nice too.

Now I am preparing for a second--for my home students with whom I feel a better connection. I am proud of them, nervous for them, and occasionally frustrated by their teenager-ness. Today a new student sighed and said, "ugh! THe time goes by so quickly!" and my heart swelled. Another student sobbed in front of me, afraid of the recital, and I played that secondary role as counselor.

I guess this role straddles my two current loves--the joy of music all day, and the fun of nurturing someone and watching them grow.

It's pretty awesome. I've also become a damn better piano player!

Fraudulent Me

2011-05-31T22:00:00.000-07:00

Well, officially as of this moment, it is June, and I am amazed we got here. I really thought I'd blog a ton in May,but it didn't happen. It was stressful and every moment I could I crawled into a coccoon and hoped May would just pass.

I am remembering a family photo tonight that we had taken years ago. It was probably the last time my sister would consider herself a part of our family. But more importantly I remember my mom instructing the photographer--she was a wedding harpist, and she could help him get more work if he did two things: He would have to make us look rich and thin.

Ugh, how I would love to somehow not define myself by those things, and yet I find the things that bother me the most are things that threaten the possibility of looking to the world like I might be rich(er) and thin(ner). This week our car broke down and I ended up in the hospital with a terrible pain in my back. I suppose 10 years ago I would have avoided the hospital and the 100 bill that goes with it. But now, as a person with diabetes, I take those pains seriously. Just like I thought, kidney infection (although the doc and hubby kept saying it was "back pain too" I know back pain). The test was positive for an infection, and after 2 doses of antibiotic, I felt much better.

If only the car had gone like that. There was a call two days later that our fuel pump had blown up and taken a strut with it, and that the repair estimate would START at 1300, and did they want me to continue, or just get a new car? I hate cars. JEEZ, I miss those days in NYC where the train took me everywhere! I hate everything about purchasing, owning, caring for, and worrying about cars.

We had one horrible experience at a dealership before I broke down in tears and told my husband I wasn't going to do it. But it was necessary, and today, after going to a dealership where the salesmen work on SALARY, we are the owners of a vehicle. A vehicle which we are paying a higher interest rate than I ever thought I'd pay. THis, of course, is after going to various credit unions and banks and hearing that we weren't going to get the loan we wanted, not for a car over 5 years old, and not with our crappy credit.

So here I am, dieting, desperate, and terribly upset with being overweight.
And here I am, owner of a new (to me) car with a horrible interest rate because on paper, I'm, well, poor.

I guess life is supposed to be worse than this? Because I'm just so happy. I have this great family, and I do what I want to do, and hubby and I go out every evening and survey our competing gardens, and I'm singing in the Mikado, and, damnit, I am really happy.

So I feel like a fraud. Half blissfully joyful, and the other half always telling myself that the picture isn't right.

Brave New Worlds

2011-05-12T09:31:00.000-07:00

A type-o almost caused me to write "Brave Jew Worlds" as the title of this blog post, which would probably have garnered more attention than I'd like.

My fingers and toes are covered in mud. I've been outside this morning with the baby and the dog (the one who does not have a phobia about going outside). We gardened, pulled weeds, sprayed round-up, and I threw the baby up in the air. It's a little muggy, but it's devastatingly beautiful outside, and everything I've planted is coming up...from lettuce to clematis to hostas. The whole morning was idyllic. The nice thing about planting gardens is that the result, while unexpected, is pretty much in the area you'd like it to be.

This is really different from auditions. The factors, which can be as ridiculous as "they just had lunch and weren't really listening" to "they hated your aria" leave you in a state of total surrender. Ain't nothin' but the attempt to do your best. After a small battle with the rental car company, who double-charged me for the rental, I was not only reimbursed for the car, but also for the gas (as a courtesy? I'll take it!) which means this trip cost me under 100 bucks, and was altogether fun with the exception of singing for opera folks.

Each time I do an opera audition I pray it's in an opera house, not a room. But usually, it's in a room (FYI, I have always done better if it's on a stage. Hands down). They try to re-create the auditorium environment by sitting far enough away that you can't see what color socks they're wearing. It's ridiculous. Acoustically, it's as different as night and day. But what're you gonna do, right? It's formal. It's cold. And my friend from NYC who used to "cross over" between musical theater and opera, said he liked to do musical theater auditions just because he needed a compliment every once in a while.

And I have no idea why, but that's pretty true.

I stated my name at this audition loudly at the beginning. I used my new name...half me and half my husband. I like it. I like it more and more. It's still short. I would have thought I'd hate the hyphen, but I like that it forces people to say both parts. It's my brave new world. No more thinking resumes have to use the old name, and Dr's appointments have to use the new. I am one person, a new person. Ready for the adventures of a new life.

If I believe anything, it's that God can make people new. That encountering God, letting Him find you, believing that there's more to life than what we see, will actually make you a new person. It'll pull the weeds right out of you. I was thinking about it last night. I trust that God can change the parts of me that I have so long fought. I guess I just have no idea how that's going to happen.

I recently answered the question of what a "contrite spirit" is, and I think it's someone who walks around with an understanding of their own flaws. Not beaten up by them, per se, and far from hopeless, but knowing we are, each, flawed, gives you a chance to see God as something infinitely more than yourself. And, hopefully, to see the other flawed people around you as equals. That's my bravest new world, I guess. To not be so afraid of my flaws that I can't give them up? It sounds wacky, doesn't it?

Getting the Lead Out

2011-05-10T22:12:00.000-07:00

I'm pretty sure I've used this title on a blog post before.

I haven't written yet in May. It's been so immensely stressful, and somehow that stress has put me into a depression. Albeit mild, I still am having trouble feeling motivated to feel positive thoughts, do positive things, etc. I am looking forward to a counselor visit, and clinging on to aerobic exercise to just not kind of--hate myself--every day. Blech. Sometimes I think a very stressful situation (like your husband suddenly being hospitalized, having emergency surgery, and having a dentist look at you and say "your husband could easily have had a heart attack or stroke today, thank God he came in" that relly knocks me off my game.

So tonight, just to get me back into blogging, unwilling to deal yet with the incredibly disappointing "facing the facts" after a Minnesota audition, and the feeling that I am just bored of having a 2 year old around me all the time....I am going to talk about the lead.

I can't describe to you the nightmare of having the government come to your house every week or so to inspect your back-breaking labor and give you a thumbs-up on what you feel is hardly good work at all, while your daughter's lead level so slowly trickles down you think HOW CAN THIS BE? The nightmare of looking at her and worrying if at 5 years old any one of the Myriad of problems they've scared me with will pop up--I won't know now, of course. That would be far too satisfying.

Becky is our "lead lady" and has been so frustrating. She has smiled, developed a relationship with us, and still at so many turns has managed to treat us like people who are A) lazy and couldn't possibly care enough about our daughter B) stupid and C) people she's never met. Her form letters, sent in the mail when her office is literally 8 blocks from our house, have been annoying. Her suggestions that lead areas of our house (like our porch or the basement windows) could simply be covered with junkyard metal and that would solve the problem, were nothing short of ridiculous. And yet at every turn, the look that if we didn't do this thing, that thing--if we didn't spend 8 hours scraping paint off of the inside basement windows--would be bad parenting, the act of lazy people who didn't care, has caused marital fights, hours of my tears, and a bit of cursing.

So, two weeks ago she came to my door and told me she was stepping down (Lord, could this be true???) because she has cancer. Sorry, CANCER. And I was dumbstruck. She'd been working through the treatments, but it had gotten too hard (hubby reacting only to this news by saying, "see, didn't I tell you she was wearing a wig?") I didn't ask anything. Not what kind of cancer, not how long she's known, not what was happening. I felt this strange note of mortality in the air, and I wanted to wish her "luck?" or "hope" or something that probably wouldn't mean anything.

And then, I guess this is the worst part--you see, I still kind of hated her. The cancer, which I wished would somehow wipe away how much I'd hated dealing with her, was just cancer. And she was just the lead lady. And I still feel kind of awful about myself. I sympathized, I thought of her children, I worried about her dying. But I felt such a gratefulness at not having to see her. Even in our last conversation she mentioned the woman who would "probably" take over for her, and how "she's a real stickler, so if she sees a lead paint chip in your front yard, I'm sure she'll make you pick it up." So even at the end--she talked to me like I was an uncooperative kid, right? Or is it just me? Make me pick it up?

And now we're still spending most beautiful days scraping lead paint when all I want to do is garden. We're still worried about the baby, but now the woman working with us is cooperative. She's charming. She's trying to make it easier on us, and assuming we want to do it. And the lead lady still has cancer.

Coming Out the Ying Yang

2011-04-28T09:49:00.000-07:00

I went to a counselor today, which has been on the back burner of my mind under "stuff I want to do and don't want to do". Also in this category is the audition in Minnesota. I have done little to prepare--except practice, and I have no idea what I'm singing. I have avoided calling a pianist yet (the audition is a week from tomorrow) because as soon as I talk to a pianist, I am really doing this audition.

THis week Baby S has used the baby potty, in its place of honor on our living room floor, twice. It's like a mini miracle, honestly. She hasn't even questioned it. It happened after so many promptings that I am not sure which times she actually peed, but the important thing is that wen spent a few hours without a diaper on and the only pee ended up in the potty! Maybe this will mean potty trained by two years old? Yay!

I sat in the counselor's office this morning feeling pretty calm. It felt very medical, the insurance, the "intake forms" and then the occasional psychological questions, "do you feel like killing yourself now?" and "do you see things that aren't there?" The psychologist is skinny, what am I going to do with that? After a lifetime of bristling with fear and mistrust of very skinny people, I just settle in with some form of recognition. There is no rescue here. I will not suddenly be a different person, my problems will not be gone.

But I am also having some hope. I want something new, something different. And most of all, I want to stop the feeling that I am battling myself. I want to be on the same team...as me? I am tired of looking in mirrors or at scales and feeling a strong sense of anger, of hatred, of disapproval. All I want right now is to believe I'm not going to die in two years, or that people look at me with pity. I don't want her to give that to me. I want God to find me here, doing what I said I would. I want Him to give me the miracle I've been praying for for some time. That's not too much to ask right?

I gardened for hours today, and am transforming the property. I planted lettuce, peas, radishes and squash. YUM! I smile every time I see my first tulip, which turned out to be purple! How divine.

Hmmm...maybe that's what's happening now. I am planting hope, planting the possibility of healing, waiting for something unexpected to come up.

Planning and More Planning

2011-04-26T07:21:00.000-07:00

Before I write anything else, I want to tell anyone reading that hubby returned to the store yesterday to find that they completely re-priced the trashcans. We think they must have accidentally underpriced them the first time, or put the wrong sign up? We're not sure, but either way, they are more than twice the price now! This makes me love the trash can even more, if that's possible.

I have an audition in 10 days. In another state. I have a lot of doubts about this audition. It's a general audition for a big company, and so far I think I'm about 0 for 40 with this kind of audition. Who gets roles from this? I'm not sure. But I haven't done one in a while, I'm rusty, and I'm going (also, I have a place to stay and it's a strangely convenient trip--so--I have no excuses.)

I am dreading the planning part, however. I am dreading moving students around and getting a car (always worth it to rent a new one) and making arrangements and getting a pianist and picking a piece. blech. I have, in fact, been neglecting the singing portion of my life. I need to practice and don't even know what piece I would pick for the audition! I haven't even started to memorize Katisha.

In addition, I am planning a recital for my students in June. I am hoping it will be entertaining and not too long. It seems like we are all over the place--arias, musical theater, random duets. Hopefully, that will keep things interested. I have no idea how not to lose money on this recital, but I want to give them a chance to perform, to get up and strut their stuff. I'd really like to see them sing by themselves and show off how they've grown. I'm eager to see who shines in this type of setting. I never had a teacher host a recital like this--so I don't really know how it works. It seems bad they have to pay for a pianist, but I can't come up with another possibility.

I am also planning visitors for the show in July, trying to figure out how and when we can finish our work on the upper floor of our house, and planning what we will do when and if hubby moves us out of this place. EEK.

Miraculously, we reported pretty close to all of my voice teaching income (everything we could find in my schedule) and still ended up with a refund (with hubby's salary) from taxes. This is SUCH good news. I accidentally typed "GOD news" just now, I'm not sure that wasn't better! so now we are planning how to get a jump on medical bills too!

whew. I'm exhausted writing all of that.

I suppose the weirdest thing is my baby planning. Eventually, I want a 2nd kid. Just two. But I don't want to until I've lost 65 pounds. So...I plan in my head....ok, if I lose the 65 by November, we could have a baby in July....etc etc. This part can't be planned so perfectly. This part I need to live one day at a time. I called a counselor yesterday to get what I feel is necessary to get over this hump and keep losing. It's horrifying, honestly. But I'm not so sure you can plan healing.

Reaching for Comfort

2011-04-23T20:38:00.000-07:00

I am not sure if it's natural for a person to be in love with a trash can, but I am. Two days ago hubby and I made a 16 dollar impulse purchase of an electric trash can. It's sleek looking, silver, and it has a sensor--so you wave your hand over it, it opens, you drop trash in, it closes. THere are so many good things about this can. You never touch it--so it doesn't get dirty. The lid holds the trash bag in the can, so it doesn't fall. It seals shut, keeping the smell inside, and best of all--it is the wrong shape for the baby to get inside and take stuff out (also, she is intimidated by the "automatic close"). It's amazing what a little thing like that can do. I smile just looking over at it.

I'm sure I've written before about how often I tell my students to open their mouths. I don't know why this particular action is so elusive--why I tell them that and they say "ok" and then don't do it at all. Not even a little. I have developed standard things to say like "I should see your tongue" or "you should be able to swallow a bug". (I often think of the time I actually saw Marilyn Horne swallow a bug in a live performance, but I don't usually have time to tell them that story AND explain who Marilyn Horne is, which would be kind of heartbreaking anyways, because I wish they knew who she was). Anyhoo, the most common thing I say is:

If you're still comfortable, your mouth is not open enough.

Because if you're not used to doing something, and someone asks you to try it, it's never comfortable. That's the biggest clue for me in weight loss. Am I comfortable? Too much food. That's the old habit, right? The comfy spot. THe one we seek and seek and seek, and eventually it claims us. So we have to keep working against it.

THe baby rarely wants to be comfortable. I am sitting on the couch, and she is trying to straddle the window and a cardboard box. I am watching tv and she is banging on something as loudly as she can. I envy her, and hope to live vicariously through this state where comfortable is boring, and new is the THING. But I am not sure I can at this point. I occasionally wish I had some NEWness, but the further you get away from new (like say, moving to the midwest, and getting married and having a baby and living in a house) the better comfortable feels. Hmmm.

I have not wanted to write due to feeling a little depressed since Puerto Rico. I can't explain this--just a little down, a little overwhelmed, a little tired. Sick. Different. I am starting to sense, though, that there's only one way out of this.

I kept moving all day today. I did uncomfortable things. I worked out. I worked on scheduling an audition that I don't want to do. (sheesh, talk about uncomfortable, auditions are the WORST). I wrote down what I ate, and I said I'll just be uncomfortable today. I suppose that's the best way to do it--like what I say to my students: Just be uncomfortable right now. Open your mouth right now, make this funny gesture right now. And as soon as you walk out that door, you can be your normal self again. Sometimes it works on them.

And sometimes it works on me too.

11 Things I Love About Hubby

2011-04-18T20:51:00.000-07:00

1. I love that hubby buys gifts for people he hardly knows.
2. I love that hubby gets really excited about any new business that opens up nearby
3. I love that hubby is really gifted at buying me clothes that I'll like.
4. I love that hubby cares about his own character, even when no one else notices.
5. I love that hubby is devoted to his job, even when he hates it. (not that this is always easy)
6. I love that hubby is loyal. He picks a team, a wife, a friend, a concept, and he stays with it.
7. I love that hubby listens when we argue. It may not seem like it at the time, but he is always willing to hear, and surprisingly, to change.
8. I love that hubby always smells good.
9. I love that hubby is not afraid of my getting better, is encouraging of my dreams, and is unthreatened by the goals of my childhood.
10. I love that hubby gets excited about things I will laugh over.
11. I love that Baby S and I have always been hubby's biggest dream.

Great and Small Things

2011-04-11T20:51:00.000-07:00

I gardened today. I can't tell you how delightful it feels to sit outside in the sun, my hands up to my wrists in mud and worms, sticking stuff in the ground. I ripped up grass, a thankless job, put down weed barrier, ran my hands in the mulch and lovingly stroked my tulip plants, which came up from bulbs, just as I'd prayed they would, but haven't shown me flowers yet.

I am not sure what it is about gardening that makes me think about God. You know, there's an obvious part--nature, creation, etc. But there's a great unknown in the ground. There's trust down there. I suppose that's why there are so many of those mentions of "seeds" in the Bible, right....it's a little microcosm of trust. Here, God, I work in the sun, I move stuff around, I do my best, but at the end of the day, I can't do anything to make this plant grow. The tulips were especially amazing...plant them in November, cover them in snow, leaves, rain, sleet. Wait, do nothing, forget they're there, and then in Spring God pulls them up, strong and solid, and they show themselves. It's inspiring.

My friend Dari, who died a few years ago, unexpectedly, comes into my mind the whole time I'm gardening. She loved it. She was able to accomplish such beauty. And I can see why--her love for nature & decorating met perfectly in this hobby. She loved the sun on her skin, and the quiet, I think. It quiets the voices sometimes, that tell you you haven't done enough today, and you don't look good, and you need to work harder, etc etc...it's all just imagination in the garden. Sometimes I think she and I had so little in common. At the end she couldn't seem to get enough glamour, enough money, enough attention from men. But at the core, she and I shared some pretty major loves. And now I think I connect with her now more than anything when I am planting a brightly colored plant.

Hubby and I are worriers these days. We just don't know what's coming next. We don't know if we'll be staying, or leaving, or when, or how. We don't know if the next move will be financially saving or starving. And I'm not sure if I'm investing this garden for myself, or if the person who lives here next year will be the first to smile at a driveway full of tulips. . . so I'm just out there, trying to live in the blessing of the moment. Trying to get Baby S to not try and drink RoundUp. And, trying not to worry whether there'll be another little Baby next year. Three negative tests but something inside me says both, I don't believe them, and, hmmm....how do we get through this?

Just read yesterday:
In an interview with Bette Midler, her closing line is..."Plant lots of flowers, so when you take time to smell them, they'll be there." So well said.

Back in the Thick of It

2011-04-05T20:16:00.000-07:00

It's hardly possible in my mind that on Sunday we got up at 4am, rode terribly uncomfortable planes all day (man I miss the day when you could sometimes get half-full planes) got into a shuttle to our car, drove the car 5 HOURS to pick up the baby, crashed, woke up in the morning and drove 9 hours home with the baby and two dogs, taught a VOICE LESSON that night (ugh) and then taught more lessons today, after some cleaning and a baby who is being SO ANNOYING! She has hurt me several times. . . I am not sure if it's suppressed rage or what...and took TWO naps today. Wish I'd been able to.

Tomorrow and Thursday are chock full of lessons, I believe about 12 in all. And I haven't been able to recover from all of that driving....blech.

It is nice to get back into routine. We like our bed. We like our DVR'd tv shows, I like having all of my clothes as possibility, and I definitely find it easier to eat healthier at my own house.

Our last day was full of touristy things, and therefore maybe a bit easier. My favorite part was the discovery of a modern museum near the airport. We saw works (by Carribbean artists only) that were very fascinating, sometimes beautiful and thought provoking. I think it may have been a little too modern for hubby....but he looked at every work. he even commented when I asked. Mostly he worried about the very dangerous place we'd left the car though. Seems like everything in Puerto Rico worked like this: Read in (trusted) guide book that parking is free. Show up and find there is no parking lot. Finaally, after driving around, decide to park on the street 5 blocks away. Upon arrival at the destination, discover that everyone drives up over the curb and parks on the lawn. Didn't think to mention that, Lonely Planet? Whatever. We also did a fair amount of shopping, and finally, I had a lovely fresh meal of garlicky shrimp, beans, yucca mofongo and a mango rum drink. Nice. We got along well the whole trip. Only one (very) brief argument, and a few jabs, but mostly kisses and laughter, and sunburn. it was a great time for us to be alone again. I was impressed with my hubby's ability to be flexible, creative and to do things he'd never done. I knew it was hard, and he did it anyway. I had trouble not analyzing the trip with all I felt I "should have" done, but at the end of the day, it was more than good, it was necessary.

April is bringing a few major things to us. First, we are starting Baby S's potty training in more "full swing". I'd like to get her trained by her 2nd birthday...or maybe Christmas at the latest? I am a little afraid of what that might entail. I also have promised hubby to start seeing a counselor about my food and weight and body image issues. I hate the thought of it. It's the last thing I want to do, I think. But my struggles lately seem more and more painful. I take a step forward with each healthy choice and about 3 back two hours later. I am just so tired of walking backwards....

It's 45 degrees today. Not bad. My tulips are starting to poke through the ground .. . . ooooo....I can't wait. Two new students this week! Oy vey. Must focus on the plan. Change must come. Good change.

And then of course, there's the question of whether hubby's moving me out of here soon. Now I'm kind of wishing we were back in Puerto Rico :)

Halfway Through Puerto Rico

2011-04-01T06:18:00.000-07:00

It's been a while since I travelled. I am a world traveller--when I was single, I visited 4 continents and even stayed a while in one or two! I am "passable" in a few languages. All these are my "travel badges". But since meeting hubby, things have changed. Money and time need to be used for fixing houses, and the baby--well, that's no easy travel companion.

Since hubby got a new job just before the wedding, we never had a chance for a honeymoon, and Dad's gift to us was time at a time share. So in December I started saving, searching and planning. And we came up with Puerto Rico. It would be new for both of us--I had never been to the carribbean, and hubby had never flown over an ocean! But I forgot how hard this kind of thing is. First day, after crying about leaving the baby, we rushed to the Chicago airport at 6 am to discover our 9:45 plane was delayed 2 hours. Then 3. They would hold the plane for us, great, but would our luggage defiitely make it? We were exahusted, and after the 4th round of 20 questions, pretty bored. They did hold the plane, and we got in 15 minutes early to PR!

We drove a harrowing drive to a BEAUTIFUL time share--we love it. A 2 bedroom apartment with a kitchen(ette?) and 2 bathrooms, and a washer/dryer! 2 pools, and a close walk to a beach. However, we spent so much money that first day--eating in airports, paying tolls, and finally having our first dinner at a restaurant that was HUGELY expensive, merely because we couldn't get anywhere else.

Our first day here was lovely--we got a little lost trying to buy sandals, skyped the baby, and spent a few hours on a beach that seemed so remote it was like we discovered it! We ended the day by eating "local food" on a recommendation. I would describe it as grease with a little meat. Blech.

We have found PR to be gorgeous--it is warm and balmy, it hasn't rained once (though weather.com has predicted rain every day?) and a little pricey. We have not yet eaten for under $15, so the money's goin' quick.

Yesterday we took a ferry to a tiny island, a real adventure, and then once there we decided to eat lunch (pizza, for hubby) and shop for gifts. Unfortunately, we did not know that once you miss the cabs that wait at the ferry, you cannot get to the beaches. I sat down and cried. Stuck on an island I had planned out, 30 minutes from one of the most beautiful beaches in the world, and no way to get there. It was hard--and I forgot travelling was like this--sometimes a high, sometimes a disappointment.

We re-assessed, where did we need to go and what did we need to see. We walked around, and collected sea glass, but it certainly just felt like we'd missed the boat....somewhat literally. We came home, had a nice dinner, and fell asleep watching Ghostbusters on cable. We tried to remember that we were here to enjoy each other just as much as the island, which actually has been the case. No fighting, no distractions, just remembering why we got hitched in the first place.

Hubby patiently waits right now for me to finish blogging so we can go to a new beach. EL CONVENTO. Let's hope for some snorkelling..... .

All Business

2011-03-19T22:40:00.000-07:00

Dude. 10 days! I can't believe I haven't written here for 10 days. Those just flew by...sick baby, shows, students, house construction, auditions, craziness.

I weighed in this morning and it's my 2nd week of my weight being up. I have agreed with hubby that I am going to start working with a counselor about this issue. On Friday night, I can bow to screams and a standing ovation. On Saturday morning, my weight being up a pound means I am completely reduced to utter worthlessness. It is never just a tool for me. It's a judgment. Mine. And it's harsher than anything I could find myself doling out to another person.

Sweeney Todd is the first show I've done in a while, but it is a reminder of something about myself...I never go out during shows. I would love to say I have some huge excuse with the baby or the house or whatever else I have now, but it's not true. At the end of the day, I can't stand the idea of going out tonight and having a bad show tomorrow due to that.

I have often wondered if this affected my career--at Santa Fe Opera, it was one big party. Drinking, karaoke, random sexual affairs, lifelong friendships. It wasn't that for me. It was a job. And a joy. Every part of the "show" at Santa Fe was joy, but the social life was horrible. By the end, I was the girl left out, I felt so rejected, but it was me that had rejected them, I guess. I'll never forget the moment that I cried backstage, wishing for a friend, not knowing what to do with myself. A nice tenor said to me. "that's the problem. It's not opera camp". And I knew exactly what he meant.

After the last performance, one of the guys asked me to join the group out, and before I could answer a secod guy did an impression of me "Oh no, I can't go out, I have a show...." and then laughed. Then the other one did, and I realized my identity had already been established.

So that's me...my great joy is in doing the show. I love working intimately with people, I love that "theater folks" tend to share more intimate details about themselves, I love the quirky personalities. But I am not a party girl. I am, in fact, so far from party girl that I can't even fake it anymore. What I love best is a good night's sleep and a fantastic show. No night of laughing at a bar ever felt as good as my voice being totally in line, my character filled with energy, and a scene driven home just the way I want it. As my niece told me when she was just 10 "some people are party girls. you're just not a party girl."

So I guess I make my choice....forgive me. The truth is: I can't tonight. I've got a show tomorrow.

And next blog? The new role (wow!) KATISHA.

Ugly Broads and Therapy

2011-03-09T21:27:00.000-08:00

I lost some weight in February, having joined Weight Watchers (totally a cult, but I'll take it where I can get it). And then, in March, with stress, it has been coming back. I find the old habits of beating myself up are comfortable lately. I am going to 12 step meetings, trying not to freak out in front of my husband. My levels of self-hatred in this area are so deep that they seem hardly real. I feel as though the rest of my life doesn't compare with this one failure. And I am not sure where to run.

TOnight hubby stroked my back and suggested therapy. He suggested the money I use on weight watchers might be better spent on counselling. He suggested, even, that much of my eating history seems to mirror the creation of my own role in my parents' marriage. And then mentioned what he'd learned by watching the show HEAVY about how people can find that thing...that beginning to when the food became a crutch. I have long since stopped this belief, I'd say, thinking only this is my addictive behavior. But he loves me, sees me...maybe he has some sort of point.

I drove to Iowa City tonight to audition for the Mikado. I went in and sang a specific part for a role, memorized a paragraph of that character's dialogue, and wrote it down on the sheet. Make no bones about it, I'm only auditioning for Katisha. This is at the University of Iowa--and I was at the audition because the professor wrote me and suggested i come down and sing for it. So this all was flattering, encouraging, and on my current "high" from singing Mrs. Lovett (and getting those incredibly effusive reviews) I figured, eh, why not?

I must tell you of my last experience with Katisha. I sang for this role about 5 years ago for the New York Gilbert and Sullivan Society. I was called back, and when I showed up, there were 4 of us at this very self-contained studio in midtown. Me and 3 of the least attractive women I've ever seen. I know, that seems awful, but I'm telling you--the theme was clear, and terribly unflattering. A few moments later, the 5th callback arrived, a very pretty (if somewhat chubby) bubbly southern girl in her 20s. She approached me at the break and whispered, "Thank God you're here or I would have decided I must be a dog" This was exactly what I'd been thinking, and I was so glad she said it.

For 2 hours, the 5 of us read every single line of Katisha's, we sang her pieces for each other. It felt like a fight to the death. The director, with no shortage of ego, would make comments like, "Jane, can you read that more like Amanda?" and we tried to win the part from each other desperately. It was quite obvious after 30 minutes that i was the favorite voice, and the least favorite actress. I could never fix that, and lost the part. He actually sent me home and worked with some of the others!!

Luckily, this audition was nothing like that. In fact, this one had the unmistakable cry of a very pissed off 18 month old just outside the door for my whole audition. Hmmm.

Exhaustion vs. Bliss

2011-03-06T20:31:00.000-08:00

The last two weeks have been a weird walk through life in a pink bubble of bliss. I have everything I've wanted...weird, right? I mean, nothing (NOTHING) came in the form it was supposed to, right? I'm playing a role for 5000 people that I've dreamed of my whole life. I am married to a man who seems to be utterly crazy about me and I have an adorable little thing who runs around and calls me mama.

Adding to that, the snow is nowhere to be seen, the ground is starting to smell like DIRT! GOD LOVE IT! Our home is friendly, I'm getting friends in my life for the first time in a few years. People are inviting me out (without the feeling that somehow they just feel bad for me or something) and . . . hubby's finally getting that tooth fixed. This, my friends is a bliss bubble.

I had imagined it differently. In my dreams, I was a city girl, I was thin and quite a bit cuter. My hubby was worldly and was willing to put a piece of fois gras in his mouth. My baby came from a healthy pregnancy, and this role would've been paying a thousand bucks a night.

But happiness communicates something quite easy: You were wrong. You didn't need any of that to just be utterly satisfied, lady. Calm down. Put down the Prozac. Smile, this is actually it.

Now....there is another fighter here. My exhaustion. As blissful as life feels, I occasionally am swept up in a wave of such intense exhaustion that I want to vomit. I often fall asleep while watching the baby, which feels dangerous, and I am angry with her at moments, having to just turn away and breathe until the feeling passes. It's hard, unnatural, and somehow leads me to ask myself (for the millionth time) Are you only happy when you're doing more than you're actually able?

My weight loss has grinded to a hault, which always accompanies exhaustion. I need sleep for weight loss--time to plan what I eat, and to get rid of the feeling that somehow ice cream will make the pain of being tired go away. There is only one solution to all of that: REST. GOd wasn't kidding when he came up with the Sabbath. We are not designed for constant running. At least, let me be clear, I am not.

Hubby lives in this state of total adoration and happiness marked by fears of my insane exhaustion. I threw a toy last week and broke a window in our living room (it's cracked, not broken, but will need to be replaced nonetheless). Today, the baby threw my cell phone and it landed in a floor vent, completely unreachable to me after an hour of digging in it with wire hangers, vaccuum cleaners and dusters. I called hubby three times, almost in tears. I just couldn't take another thing. Not another thing. And that is the story of this weekend.

I am reminded of the thing about parenting. It's not that it's hard in itself, but it just never leaves you. It's every moment, even when you're exhausted, living out your dreams, feeling flirty with your spouse, or watching Top Chef. It's always there....

Ok, off to sleep. Please GOd, more of this.

Boys Will Be Men

2011-03-03T22:40:00.000-08:00

What an odd day....our show's Preview performance was tonight, with an audience of about 300 people, I'd guess. My husband came with his cousin and her wife, a couple I always enjoy. Unfortunately we had no time to enjoy them--we were in a state of complete madness by the end of the day. It was a hard day to cap off with a show. I had barely slept the night before and taught 6 students.

The night before my husband and i hit the bed very late. It was the early hours of his birthday, around 2 am, when he laid beside me, and wanted to cuddle. He talked to me about how proud he was of my performing, how excited he was for the show. It was strange and unexpected, a sudden outpouring of kind words and hugs, and I wished the moment would go on forever. My joy at the show has almost been outmatched by my husband's supportive enthusiasm--he's bought me turkey jerky to chew on backstage, gel inserts for my tight pointy toed boots, and massages when the rehearsals go badly.

This side of my husband is something I never thought I'd experience in another person, and I realize how much we were meant for each other, the way he's stepped up in every aspect to make sure this whole singing thing works.

Backstage last night one of the cast members, a very young man, shared of his college experiences of kissing several women at once--of parties where sexual mischief was the goal. He spoke in front of a 12 year old boy in the cast, who said it sounded gross. I found that refreshing, sometimes I love to hear about that time in a boy's life, before everything seems to get colored by sex. I could hold on to innocence forever. A few moments later the lead in the show, a man in his late 20s, made a comment about how the kid would someday not turn his nose up at the idea of kissing many women at once.

The same man, in his late 20s, complains about my getting lipstick on him in the scene where I kiss him. And when I complained to an older cast member (a man close to 60, I'd guess) he responded by singing the words, "You are young....you will learn...." and I smiled, as he made me feel good again about the whole thing.

It seemed like a whole circle of men...from innocent to horn dogs to know it alls to appreciative gentlemen, or something like that.

But tonight, looking at my husband, who has been so vocal about being proud of me on HIS birthday, not a second of complaining, even when last week in a state of abject exhaustion i broke a window in the living room....well....maybe they can be all those things at once.

Is it crazy in here or is it just me?

2011-02-27T21:24:00.000-08:00

If you've ever been in theater, you know the point at which you feel you've completely lost your mind. You don't have time for lunch, you accidentally eposit a facial tissue into your checking account, you call your boss "sweetheart"...that time is called TECH WEEK.

In the last two days I have done 13 hours of rehearsal. More or less. Two days, 13 hours, and this is the weekend. The resting time. I've just come off of a week of rehearsals and next week is a week of dress rehearsals. I have blisters beneath my pinky toes, my foot is dyed red from my stockings, my quadriceps are burning from the stairs. My back muscles are sore. My arms hurt to reach above my head, and I haven't stopped being hungry for 3 days.

In addition to this, I come home to a baby who thinks, "WHERE ON EARTH HAVE YOU BEEN? I NEED TO SPEND QUALITY TIME WITH YOU." Last night I fell asleep 3 times while watching "baby tv" (this is a generic term I now use for any television designed for children under 5, and if you're an insomniac, I highly recommend it). During the first "catnap" baby S got up, emptied a vase of flowers onto the dining room table, creating a lake of water. She put napkins, toys, candy and the phone into the lake, crushed the flowers in her hand and spread them all over the room, and somehow destroyed all of the paper plates.

So I attempted to stay awake with her tonight, and did much better. I can't believe I taught for 90 minutes after coming home from a 5 1/2 hour rehearsal, but somehow, I was even perky. Oh yeah, you heard me FRIGGIN perky for the lessons.

I must finish this blog by telling the story of what happened Thursday morning.
Around 11:30am I was cleaning the house and getting myself read to go teach at the high school. The baby was relatively quiet.

Suddenly, I heard a knock at the door. The dogs went insane. I answered, and there was a policeman, smiling. (You never really want to see a policeman at your door unless you were expecting one). Anyhoo, he says, "Is everything ok?" and I say, "um...yes?" and he says "Well, we received a 9-1-1 call" and I immediately knew the source of said call. I said, "I'm so sorry. I have a one year old". He smiled and encouraged me to keep her away from the phone. I remembered that my husband sits next to a police scanner all morning, and immediately checked my cellphone. 5 missed calls.

I called hubby and said, "yes, I know why you're calling. Everything's fine, I'm putting the phone away." and he just responded by saying, "i was hoping that was the case..."

I'd like to offer my transcription of the 9-1-1 call.

"Hello, 911, what's your emergency?"
"HI!"
"Hello--do you have an emergency?"
"HI!"
"Is this a child? Can you get your mommy?"
"NO"
"Hello?"
"No. GINGY. NO."
"We are calling in your emergency..."
"NO NO NO. BYE BYE."

Schoolgirl Crush

2011-02-19T13:54:00.000-08:00

Is it possible to have a crush on a show? Today after leaving a meeting downtown I drove past the theater where I'll be singing Sweeney Todd in about two weeks, and my heart skipped a beat. For a second, I remembered being 14 and having a hopeless crush on some boy in school, waiting to see him come out of his house in the morning.

At the beginning of rehearsals for this show, I feel calm, almost sleepy. It's not about being exhausted (although I do feel exahusted with this insane schedule and my "spirited" toddler to chase after). Instead, it's like all of my energy is coming in tight, storing inside me, like the focus of slowly checking your makeup before a first date. During the rehearsal I await the feeling of Mrs. Lovett--I love these brief moments when she actually kind of touches me. Sure, a big part of this is memorization, and counting 6/4 against 5/8 and trying to do a consistent accent and sing well, and all of that is good. But the real thrill is the second where I am no longer myself as much as I am the likeable liar, the bubbly murderer, the strangely deluded piemaker.

It's not quite love--certainly isn't full of acceptance and peace, but it's definitely the other part, wanting to prove myself, wanting to take risks, wanting the show's approval, feeling like I'll make the decision to be with the show over almost anything else.

And when I leave, when I drive home, the radio is silent, the night seems alive. I am exhausted, and smiling.

This is not my first crush. I once had a crush on Cosi Fan Tutte, although I've never liked seeing it. I sang Dorabella, and felt that character take me over..painting my toenails pink and feeling more naive than I really am. I once had a crush on the Pirates of Penzance, being half woman and half pirate, and feeling naked without my pirate boots.

The first time I wanted to find someone to love I was almost 30. In fact, I remember thinking for years that I wanted maybe a boyfriend, or just a dog. I have watched just about everyone in my life long for passion and companionship when all I wanted to do was have another show crush.

The show would end, and I'd come home a little lonely, a little depressed. I'll look immediately for the next one. I'm already planning an audition before February's out. Sometimes I wonder if it's a curse or a blessing to know exactly what makes you light up.

I'll miss Mrs. Lovett, and thank God will come home to hubby and Baby S. 12 years into this, I have figured out the crush certainly wasn't enough.

But damn, it's good while it's happening.

Owning It

2011-02-15T20:40:00.000-08:00

I have been so happy the last few days. I went to sleep smiling last night. Valentine's day was nice, although I got nothing for hubby besides a "good time" he seemed pretty happy with that gift. Since then I've gotten him a little half-price candy. What else would he expect from his frugal wife?

I am happy mostly because I am beginning to "own" the character of Mrs. Lovett. I am still not sure, there are holes in the show, and memorization is a PAIN IN THE BUTT for this show. Wow! First time I've ever done a show where I couldn't memorize in a week. Of course, it's also the first show I've done where I scarcely have a minute without a baby. "Mama. Mama. Mama. Mama...mama mama" WHAT? That's a big part of my day.

There are three parts of a role (in my opinion)
Learning it
Experimenting with it
Owning it

The learning in this show has been so tough that it took me a while to get to stage two, but now I actually tremble a little before scenes. I feel nervous, excited, and I want to experiment. I want to find what the boundaries are. Occasionally now, I am starting to get the feeling of her, the stuff that works. I am starting to get a little bit of ownership....ahhhhh....and this is probably my favorite part.

Although I probably love the whole thing. Who wouldn't love this? It's better than cake, it is.

I am still flubbing lines, forgetting blocking, and messing up the music, but I am starting to get a feel for the part that I will desperately miss when the show is over!

I kissed a co-star with cigarette breath last night and drove home wanting to smoke a cigarette. Does that seem strange? I suppose it would considering I've never smoked. But I think it was the moment, the excitement. I was going a little nuts with the part, enjoying myself, and the fun of still tasting the cigarette kiss in the car might have been my lingering joy too.

When I told hubby this he was quite confused. But still happy for me.

Winter Musing

2011-02-13T20:58:00.000-08:00

If you haven't been through a midwest winter, you don't know winter.

Seriously, I have lived everywhere, and I say this with great confidence. I remember the first year that I lived in NYC we had a "record cold" winter....in fact, colder than it had been in apparently 50 years. But I still don't think it compares with the burning, stinging, 15 below nights of Iowa.

I guess it wouldn't be too terrible, if it didn't last forever and fight me for my cheerfulness. It's like a battle of wills, with the winter yelling at me, "GIVE IN" and my real life, so full of things I never knew I wanted, yells back "BE GRATEFUL".

I realize I must love the Sunday night blog. I am hoping to blog a few times a week, but at least I get these Sunday night ones out! I think I partly do it in honor of my friend who reads them, who used to spend Mondays talking to our mutual friend, who passed away. I figure she must still need a distraction! But tonight I am also doing it because if I have to look at the score for Sweeney Todd one more time this week I'll scream!

Why is this so hard? I am struggling with memorizing this part and the show is in two weeks! Can you believe it? I have no idea what I'm doing on stage, I feel like. I think this is normal, right? I forget. I have done shows on every end of this spectrum....over rehearsed, under rehearsed, too many dress rehearsals, too few run throughs. Somehow, by opening night, it works. It works. I work. It works. My new mantra :)

I was just asked to audition for another show that performs this summer--a Mikado! I would love to do it. I doubt it pays anything, and I'm starting to not give a crap. I'm just going to sing as much as I can. I'm tired of figuring out where this lies in my career. I have had such a good time at this so far, doing Mrs. Lovett, I wonder why I ever make such a big deal out of any of the other stuff. I want to sing, darnit!!!

I have never had anyone love me like this baby. It's kind of strange, kind of everything you ever wanted when you were feeling needy, and then way too much when you're feeling good. I am amazed sometimes at how much I feel it back for her. I know, I know, mommy-love is supposed to be all-encompassing and life-changing and all that stuff, but I guess it really is. You don't just say it. I simply feel delighted at her, I love her laugh, and her tricks and I am filled with smiley gooey crud every time she shows me her belly or says that the cow says "moo." I feel depressed when I think of how much I am DYING to take this trip that hubby and I have planned at the end of March. The first trip in 4 years that is just for vacation. And ....5 days without the baby. Eek. My womb aches already.

Tomorrow is Valentine's day, and I haven't even picked up some chocolate for hubby. I have no idea what to do...I just bought him a birthday present, man! This holiday is the half-way point between our birthdays, and two days after our half-aversary (we've been married 2 1/2 years), so I'd rather kind of skip it a little. If only he weren't so darn traditional.

I lost 3.5 pounds this week. I have been exercising like a fiend. I want to write a whole blog on that, and maybe I will, time permitting. Maybe if I could figure out a way to scan them directly from my brain?

Ok, back to Todd.

27 minutes

2011-02-06T21:34:00.000-08:00

In 27 minutes, I'll be 37. I suppose at some point I should update my description on this blog that says I'm 35, but who knows when I'll get around to that...37 seems like a popular age. I have noticed it being used for people on sitcoms who are young enough to fall in love, to be successful, but are also starting to worry about getting older.

I will tell you that in the last few weeks I've thought a lot about people in my life who didn't make it to 37, making me feel unusually grateful just to be here. I am also telling the 21 year old me that I feel quite a bit better physically than I did back then--being a person who now loves exercise, eats healthier, relaxes more, and takes things in stride. I am also afraid of getting up tomorrow morning and feeling depressed that I haven't met the weight loss goals that I struggle so badly with defining my life. And what if I don't ever get that opera career that I want--blah, blah. I could care less about New Year's resolutions....I seem to go from birthday to birthday.

I have had almost no voice for the past few days--I finally caught the "coughing flu" that both my husband and daughter have had. Honestly, the combination of the coughing, the dry weather, the furnace and long rehearsals where I speak emotionally (yelling, whispering, etc) have done their job at making me sound like Demi Moore or E.T. I look forward to having my own voice back.

Tomorrow's plan is a haircut, maybe a pedicure, thai food (yum), and then something in the evening (although we're not sure what yet). Hubby has done a good job at buying a birthday present in advance, and making enough plans that we're not scrambling to get it done now. I told him if he comes home after midnight he has to bring flowers! Wives are so annoying...

I am going to wake up slowly tomorrow, pray and meditate and be thankful. That should beat the years of self-analysis on birthday mornings. It is the first year since meeting my husband that he is actually off work on my birthday! How amazing! We did not procure a babysitter, so I'm hoping Baby S is in her lower-maintenance mood.

The weather was warm enough to melt a few inches of snow--of course there are feet still out there, but warm enough to melt snow is really all I'm asking for these days. Thank you God, for this little rest from the bitter cold.

And for another birthday.

Smells Like Piss

2011-01-31T20:50:00.000-08:00

Let's see. I am under the weather. I love that phrase. It seems so descriptive,as if bad weather is weighing down on you, causing your headache, tiredness, sore muscles, sore throat, post nasal drip and general ickiness. I finally caught whatever Baby S has had for the past week--not surprisingly since I must ingest an oddly large amount of her saliva over the course of a week.

Probably better not to explain that.

The weather is freezing, thick, and white. It is relentless, quiet and hard to drive on. All I can do is repeat the "PUERTO RICO" mantra in my head. I am going to the beach in March. I am going to drink Margaritas and sit in the water, and hopefully tan.

Baby S's new skills are animal sounds. You can say, "What does the cow say" and she will say "mooo", "what does the sheep say" and she will say "Baaa", and just today added the "what does the horse say" "nay". Her favorite new word is "clock" which she pronounces "cock". My husband is worried about the impression people might get of what we say at home....but I assume people will know she's saying "clock."

Hubby did some work on the house tonight and the baby was doing better out of the house, so I took her to a music rehearsal. Generally, Baby S is very well behaved, so it didn't seem like a bad idea. As I left the house, hubby said, "if anything happens, call me and I can come pick her up" but he was working on the house AND had just watched her for 3 hours of my teaching voice. So I didn't want to bug him. She was great at rehearsal, until halfway through, when she had a wet and poopy diaper, and I changed her. And then...I realized I did not have a replacement diaper. So....I wasn't sure what to do, and I let her wander "al fresco". Why? I cannot tell you why. I watched people hold her and play with her while she pulled at her crotch (probably fascinated by the freeing feeling of not having a diaper on) and squatted, freaking me out.

It was a terrible rehearsal for me, half sick, distracted by the baby, exhuasted from having not slept and taught all day. Eventually, it happened, and she peed, wetting her pants, the floor beneath her chair (an easily cleanable chair) and the laminate floor. I quickly swept her up, cleaned off her pants and came back and cleaned up the room. I am not sure if the large number of people there even noticed what happened, but I thought, "WHEN am I going to get better at this mothering thing?"

I am finally losing weight. I joined weight watchers this week, and combining that eating program with my 12 step program. It is just what the doctor ordered. I feel great, I feel like sticking to this, and I don't have to obsess alone about my "failures" along the way. I also don't have to roll my eyes as I sit in a weight loss room which never really addresses the core issue, the addiction, the slavery....I have a place to go to deal with that.

Balance

2011-01-27T20:50:00.000-08:00

This week I have worked out like crazy--I have done the type of workouts that make you want to give up, wince, cry, etc. I only took one day off (Wednesday)...I don't remember how long ago I started these--I think it was last Friday. But I feel FANTASTIC. Man, I love exercising. It took a few days. It hurts. Moments before I am hoping for ANYTHING to distract me, but I make myself do it, and I am happy.

Pretty good start huh? I calculated my students' comings and goings today and realized that in the month of January I got 5 new students and lost 5 students. The best news is that the ones I lost were (except for one) students who never cared anyways. Those are so hard. The ones I got seem eager and interesting. On top of that, I do love teaching. I love encouraging students. When I can stop the lesson and say, "Now that was goood", the feeling is downright satisfying.

I missed my weekly BSF group, a time that I love, because Baby S was coughing and sniffly. UGH. She has been waking up a lot at night and hubby and I both look exhasuted. She has also started having conversations with me! Here are some examples:
Baby S: Pee.
Me: Do you need a new diaper?
Baby S: Ok! (Runs to her room to get a new diaper)

Baby S: Cheese!! (goes to fridge)
Me: Do you want cheese? (getting a piece of cheese out for her)
Baby S: Gingy cheese? (referring to the dog, as she hands her cheese over, looking at me).
Me: No, No, that's the baby's cheese. Don't give that to Gingy!!

I am loving Mrs. Lovett....I like the weirdness of some of the other singers in the show (Man, I miss weirdness in Iowa! I feel so at home) I had a brief conversation with the music director that was one of the first real connections I've had since being here. Of course, in the back of my mind there's this knowledge that we're leaving, maybe not too far in the future. Hubby is getting more miserable at the job. I miss it when he's happy and well-rested.

He's been really stepping up to take care of the baby as my outside life increases. I am using it for all its worth--as I know that come April he'll probably stop. But for now, the occasional laundries, dishes, diaper changes are very very appreciated.

I have been repeatedly asking myself how I got here. This life is such a turn from everything I expected. I fight the urge to see this as some sort of giving up. After all, I'm still auditioning, still learning new roles, still working at it. But I did leave the scene, didn't I?

I realized the other day that I am more than 10 pounds less than I was last January, and a few pounds less than my breakdown in late September. I am always going down the scale, just at such a snail's pace. I'm joining a weight loss group on Saturday, along with my meetings....something's gotta work. I believe this is what I should be doing. I guess this can be surprising on every level. Life, I mean. God. What on earth is going to make you happy next. Futures are not to be begged for, I think. They are to be prepared for--like first dates?

Fragile Things

2011-01-24T22:12:00.000-08:00

It seems like I wrote on this blog yesterday, but when I looked at the date I was shocked to see 5 days have gone by. When did that happen?

I am feeling burned out by the toddler again. It happens quickly. Last night I was up periodically, standing over the crib, mostly asleep, trying to get the baby to "stick" to sleep, hoping, praying, yawning, creeping off to pee. Finally exhausted I put her in our bed, where hubby cannot seem to stand the occasional baby kick in the back, and eventually got up to sleep in the living room. I got up at a normal time with the baby, sending him to nap in the bedroom and having one hell of a morning trying to clean the house with the baby following me around throwing things on the floor. I can never get ahead. I feel like I fail at housekeeping with a 17 month old. Some people can do this. Can someone tell me HOW?

It is freezing. We are in deep freeze, everything is ice. Everything is shiny and slick and cold and grey. I hate it. All I can do is recite a sad mantra of "spring spring spring" because it certainly is too early to pray for it. I understand winter depression. After cleaning I told myself I was going to come up on a new year, still fat, still watching all of my old friends sing professional opera while I had the time of my life singing for free. The sign that a career has passed you by, right? That may be my depression talking. We are juggling bills like a circus act unto ourselves. My birthday is in 2 weeks. Ugh. How to just enjoy what I have? Be grateful? I have so much, but I really can complain....

Thank God for the Sweeney rehearsal tonight. Every moment was enjoyable. I loved watching the music, hearing people interpret, thinking about Sondheim's purpose in everything he composed. I am more fully alive in rehearsal (music rehearsals especially) than anywhere else. I also feel born to play this part. I am so eager to inhabit her, scared of how intense it will feel, as she's pretty nutty. I love singing it--I love singing something that's half opera and half bawdy belter. Yum!

I've been working out every day, focusing on the goal of 4 hours of exercise a week. I am trying to stay happy with the fact that I am 10 pounds less this January than last January, but I have voices saying FAILURE.FAILURE. I wonder if I would have been enjoying the fruits of a fabulous career if I'd ever battled this demon better. I felt so happy 30 pounds ago when I would tell myself I was the "bigger side of normal". Maybe I should have been less happy there. Tonight I had the time of my life at a rehearsal where I had to neurotically avoid looking up, hoping I wouldn't see myself in the full mirror across from me. I literally winced when I saw it.

I found out this morning that the student I mentioned in This Blog just a week ago got the solo in choir! We worked on it--I yelled at her a bit actually--and it sounded pretty good when she left. But I grinned ear to ear when I found out she got the solo! Good stuff.

Let's pray for a night of no baby wakes.

The Ramblings of a Tired Woman

2011-01-19T21:59:00.000-08:00

This is an end-of-day ramble, just to prepare you. I have been thinking about blogging today, but with so many different (opposing) ideas that I had no idea what to write about.

My mom has been here for the last week--I notice that I don't blog much when we have visitors. As soon as I put someone on a plane I have an itch to go home, lay in bed, watch Frasier and write a blog. So here it is. Of course, I am not yet sure if what I say has any significance.

I went to a musical rehearsal tonight for the show. It was a rehearsal not about me at all, I was just helping to fill in my part so the ensemble could learn theirs. It was relaxing, and frankly, not a bad way to end my evening....counting rhythms. I am good at counting now...only took 35 years or so. I used to think I counted, but I realize the level of concentration is far more than I (or any of my students) could identify with. You can't just absently tap on your leg. you have to actually know if you're on 1 or 2 or 3 or 4. Took me so long to figure that out.

I have put off calling my good friend whose mother passed away in November. She was very close to her mother, like I am. Maybe that is why the call is difficult. Maybe it's because I need to buy a phone card because she's not in the US, who knows. I know how important it is, now, to let someone know you care about them losing someone. It took so long for me to realize this too. What on earth did I do for the first 30 years of my life?

I am teaching so many students tomorrow that I feel tired in anticipation of it. Thankfully, the ones I teach at night are eager and talented. During the day, they are students that I have to "manufacture" energy for. That is always tough. My current ongoing prayer is a mix of "God let me finally lose the weight" and "Please get my hubby and me to a beach this Spring". I'm not sure which has a better chance.

The house is clean. Thanks mom. The baby has been saying "bubbe bubbe bubbe" all day. She was also exhausted. Thanks for that too mom. We went out tonight and bought new cereal and butter--which we always have to replace when mom leaves. It's an odd snack, but I guess you want whatever you deny yourself.

I want to drive to Kansas and audition for something. it's 7 degrees out and I have no free time.

This morning I had to answer the question, "how does the world taunt you?"
And this is what I wrote:
Money will make you feel safe.
Physical beauty will make you feel loved.
A happy family will make you feel complete.
Success at work will give you self-worth.
And God never gives you what you really want....does He?

Can't seem to get that out of my mind.

Guess I Wasn't the Best One to Ask

2011-01-13T16:15:00.000-08:00

I have a new student or two this January. One of them, after her lesson tonight, was poked by her mother with an under-the-breath whisper of "Ask her..." and the student furiously looked at her mom. "no. no." I joined her mother, trying to look welcoming. The girl timidly stared at me until her mom finally started, "Basically...when the kids were told about voice lessons, their teacher told them 'either you have it or you don't. so don't waste your time if you don't think you have it. And my daughter wanted to know..."

I looked at the girl, "you want to know if you're good?" I smiled. I wanted to say out loud, "God don't we all". I remembered staring at teachers who didn't believe me and wanting them to tell me--was I wasting my money? Am I talented? Is there a point? I sometimes, still, add up the cash I've spent on voice lessons and various coachings (in my head, of course, a very rough estimate)trying to decide somehow if these things were worth it...I am pretty sure at this point that it's a futile exercise at best.

I wanted to say, "do it! Get better at something. Believe you can. BLindly plow through it and to hell if I think you're good." But I didn't. I told her exactly what I thought: great pitch, some good musicality, very beginner, voice sounded too airy, too weak, and needed to be strengthened. But I couldn't give her that "you've got that certain something" speech.

It makes me think of a student I have now who to me is "ok". She continues to work and amaze me every few weeks. I mean, this girl is PRACTICING. (SHOCK!) She keeps winning stuff at school....solos, getting into the best choirs. She'll be a sure thing for musical leads and ....all because she just believes it. WHether or not I tell her.

I tried to tell this student about the people I'd known who had been told "you don't have it" and went on to great things. Maybe I should have mentioned my parents' friend who auditioned for 100 symphonies before he got the job as 1st chair in one of the best in the nation. Or Beverly SIlls' now famous story of her multiple City Opera auditions without any luck, finally ending up being one of the most loved AMerican Opera Singers of all time.

I do not believe that you can talk yourself into being good. It's not that simple, in my opinion. But I do wish I could hand that feeling over to every student who walked into my front door.

Years ago, a man I barely knew who was judging a competition pulled me into the room where he was giving "comments". I had not won. I had gotten an encouragement award. He told me, "you are a million times better than all of those junk-a-turas we heard today. You are a rare thing, the slow burn. If you keep at it, get a desk job, let your voice mature, be patient...someday you will be rolling in piles of money. You have gold in your throat."

When I think of that moment, I feel unstoppable. I'm pretty sure he added on 10 years of "trying" to my singing life. How do I honestly give that feeling to those little doe-eyes, staring up at me, asking if she's good?

Less Sweet Than Usual

2011-01-10T20:15:00.000-08:00

Hubby is giddy as a schoolgirl tonight, watching a good football game.

We have a habit now where he stays in the living room and I take the baby to the bedroom, turning off the light, leaving on the small tv, and using a mixture of nursing, bottle and pacifier to lull her to sleep. It works about 90 per cent of the time. Occasionally, knowing her dad is in the living room still awake, she will pop up, (suddenly, and with some energy) and say "Dada" and try to leave. Sometimes I let her, and hear her torturing her dad in the living room (the state of being too tired to play so she's falling over, crying and whining and generally running around in denial).

When things get ugly, hubby will do his quick "Wrap and plug" in which he wraps her as tight as a baby burrito and gives her a pacifier. She screams for about 30 seconds and then falls unconscious.

Lately it's been more challenging. She's been wanting to get up, so last night's precious 11 hour sleep was exactly what we needed.

Hubby was diagnosed with a bronchial infection today. He's on a few drugs. This is good because I was literally only days away from suffocating him in his sleep. THe CONSTANT COUGHING is horrible. horrible. horrible. It's every few breaths, like living with someone who has smoked for 20 years. Awful. It also means so much more work for me, grumpy exhausted husband, etc. Please God, let this be the end of it.

On the other side of our medical front, all of a sudden my sugars are low. I have no idea why--but every time I go to take them, they are in perfect range, or a hair below perfect. Why? I don't know. Maybe my exercising more? I haven't weighed myself recently but jeans are still no looser than they were two months ago. I guess we'll know at the doctor's office on Thursday. Mysteries, Mysteries....

I am sooooo enjoying the rehearsals, think my co-stars are quite talented (my Sweeney is fantastic, though I can't understand why someone wouldn't learn how to read music, as he announced at the first rehearsal. It's not like reading English or something--it's easy!!! I guess just the fear of something you don't know? That I can understand) The music director is really likeable and knows what she's doing. . . I don't know, I want to give them due credit but the truth is rehearsing for a show is pure delight.

I am toying around with the idea of writing a set of art songs (I've done it before, but man was it time-consuming) and entering a competition this December. Sounds fun, doesn't it? Maybe I'll use some of the upcoming snow days....

Dream Analysis

2011-01-07T07:34:00.000-08:00

Two nights ago I had the following dream.

I was in Tempe, Arizona, driving. It was an area I'd been in many times, but suddenly the road turned into a roller coaster. I realized that since I hadn't gotten off at an earlier exit, I was unwittingly on this roller coaster--my stomach churning and my head hurting as we hit each hill. The sister of my old friend appeared near me, and I asked her where I could get off, and she showed me an exit.

After exiting, I desperately wanted to relax. I sat down at an outdoor coffee shop with her and realized they were doing a talent show--a big stage was set up, with screens around it. We spoke to the two guys at the table next to us--two pudgy, almost bald, effeminate men in their late 50s wearing leather vests and full eye makeup.

After a bit, one of those two men got up on the stage and announced he would be singing the hit song "Comfy, Cozy, Jewish" which people reacted to by saying, "no way can he pull that off." He opens his mouth and a recording of a female opera singer starts this song, which is really called Comfy, Cozy, Jewish. Moments after he starts his lip synch the screens around him light up with pictures of crazy Michigan football fans, decked out in full regalia, dancing in perfect choreography.

My husband looks over at me and says, "I like the cheerleaders."

I woke up wondering, "Does this mean I'm pregnant?"

Going, Coming, Whatnot

2011-01-03T22:29:00.000-08:00

It seems I am either extremely happy or depressed in these last few days. I am frustrated with weight and for the first time in my life considering looking into lapband surgery. I can't believe I am even writing that. I don't want an easy way out, but all the work I've done--all the exercise, all of the emotional work, and I am still not able to cut foods out altogether. Nor am I able to lose more than a pound every month or two without cutting things out. At the end of the day, there must be a way to greatly reduce my intake of food. I have certainly realized that 1600 calories a day doesn't cut it...and I feel at a loss. I really do. Being back in my 12 step program has helped me, but even with all of my recovery there, the weight is still here. I just want to see the other side of this hill sometimes...give myself an actual chance to succeed.

That said, I have felt kind of blissed-out at motherhood and wifehood. Is that odd? This kid is SO CUTE! Babies--eh, they're overrated. But one year olds! Ahhh, it is so lovely to see her, she simply expresses love and kisses and hugs and cute language all day long. She looks forward to seeing me when I come around the corner. It's better than a puppy! She talks to herself all day in a language I don't understand and immitates me, using everything as a "phone" by tucking it under chin and saying "I know, I know".

And the hubby--well, he and I have been smiling and dancing around the house and flirting for the past week. I am not sure what it is, but I am feeling utterly grateful for both of them.

Tomorrow I work on Mrs. Lovett's music for the first time with someone else. I don't know if I'm underprepared. If this were an opera, I wouldn't dare go see her without being memorized. But it's musical theater, so I am allowing myself to learn it in the early rehearsal process. It feels scary & adventurous!

Hubby and I are talking about moving. He has actually started a search for jobs...and it seems outrageously hard to uproot us. But I also don't know how we could be here for 3 years without the feeling that we involve. I miss the love of friends so much sometimes it's painful. Sometimes I just feel so isolated with my beautiful family. Is that odd? The family unit is not enough for me. Whine, whine, I know. But I need a bit of both!

I'm looking forward to my students, to singing, and to finding a new way to deal with this weight. I am looking forward to possibly leaving, and to staying here. I am totally confused by all of it.

Ain't Down Yet

2010-12-31T21:09:00.001-08:00

One more post and I'll get 9 in December--hopefully round out the year a bit.

I try not to be too reflective on New Year's Eve. I like to celebrate jewish & chinese new years anyways, so this is just one of three--mostly for the purpose of buying new calendars and writing 2011 on stuff. After all, who wants to start a new year when everything is frozen for another three months?

I remember, by the way, when I lived in climates where you could put on your flip flops and go to a new year's eve party. (sigh) I'm really missing that. Hubby and I just drove 8 hours home from Michigan in rainstorm after rainstorm to arrive home to 28 degrees. He's in the bedroom recovering. We had planned some romantic NYE times, but that might be from separate rooms.

It's been an amazing year, and I'm not even sure I'm ready to reflect on it yet. It was my first full year without speaking to my sister, and my whole body hurts thinking about it. I'm never going to hear about people being "disowned" by other family members in a way that's removed again. I feel like something's gone...some organ, some limb. I don't miss her. I realize it's not that I ever had some joy being around her. At least, not since childhood. But my soul misses her. That sounds cheezy, but I can't describe it another way. She's part of me, and she's gone. And I looked at her pictures tonight...they all contain lies, I know that. She's all about the appearance. She titles pictures to ensure that we see them the way she wants us to. But none of that matters. It just makes my head hurt. Or my stomach, or something. And there's no answer that involves my outreach. She hates me for doing what I still believe was the only right thing. I have no idea where to go with that. If I were to contact her and say I need to know we're still family, she would relish the possibility of hurting me, of hanging up on me, of making me feel any bit of pain my actions caused her. So I can't do anything. I feel hobbled by her. I believe that's her goal, unfortunately, and she succeeds. Repeatedly.

I have heard about so many divorces this week. I am very happy with my husband, but every time they make me so afraid. After all, at the age of eight I could explain to you exactly why my parents were meant to be together forever. And by eleven they had split. So I don't know how to not fear that unknown. I just don't know.

That being said, we're happy. We're surviving. Our daughter is adorable. Our house is wonderful and warm, and our bellies are full of New Year's Eve chinese food. I used to drink champagne and now I get apple cider. But it's still wonderful and full of joy, even in our exhausted house half full of boxes and suitcases we're too tired to empty.

I am starting rehearsals for a show this week. I have finally gotten back into my 12 step group. We are finding answers for how to "make it" and I don't do any crappy job right now that makes me want to cry when I walk in the building. I just sing. I teach singing, I watch a baby, and everything in my life feels like it has purpose. Wow. How on earth did God lead me here?

I look forward to 2011. I am hoping for a year of reconciliation in some way. And maybe a few less transitions.

Ho Ho Holy Night

2010-12-24T20:18:00.000-08:00

I am hoping to get some shots of the outside of our house, covered in snow (about a foot and a half) and christmas lights (blue and white) but it is so cold out there that may not happen anytime soon. I am pushing myself to stay awake and work out, not sure if that will happen.

The last few days have been a blur. I have crammed in, amazingly, 7 or 8 students (two of whom had extra long lessons) in hope to have enough money to take the trip to Michigan that we've planned. Were it not for hubby's third paycheck this month, I shudder to think....and none of the checks we expected ever came. I have also crammed in a lot of planning, wrapping, cleaning. That kind of thing.

I heard a bunch of women on tv discussing how gift cards were the "unwanted" of gifts. Unfortunately, they have never apparently needed money--because for someone who can't afford good coffee on an average day (it is, after all, a luxury)gift cards are PARADISE. For me, there is something about gifts that is--at the end--a bit of a downer. I can't really explain this, except for the anticipation always seems to beat the reality. Giving is a different story. Giving is always delightful, and especially to someone who really needed a gift, any gift, it's practically a drug.

We shovelled twice today. Each time for an hour and a half. This is Iowa. I am still accepting it. More than anything, I am anticipating the dreariness of the cold (day after day) being lightened by rehearsals. There's also a lot more variation in my life than there was a year ago...a lot more students, and a much more interesting baby.

Tonight, as we opened presents, she helped us open them. She delighted in the ripping and tossing of things. She kissed the baby doll and yelled "baby" when she took it out. She played the toys like they were magical. I guess this is the beginning of the good stuff.

My husband is killing people on his PS3 right now, and I am packing the suitcase. It feels like something other than the night Santa is supposed to unceremoniously slip into our chimney and drop some shiny stuff. It also doesn't remind me of Jesus at all. But I am keenly aware this moment of my blessings. I have a lot of loving family, a role, and provision. I am provided for. Somehow, a few years ago, I asked God for all of this, or actually, something that looked and sounded nothing like this. I asked Him for my own solution. And He gave me this. And it's nice. Quite nice.

Money and Meaning

2010-12-22T21:22:00.000-08:00

Ahhh, how did a whole week pass by without my blogging? It's like exercise. You take a break for a day and then seven pass.

I have so much to talk about, this will be hard to edit. But I tell you, ever since I got this Mrs. Lovett part, I have been on cloud 9. I have not worried about money (which we have none of currently) or my students, or life in general. Of course, I am anxious, overeating sugar, that kind of thing. But I just feel like smiling, whistling and kissing my husband. It's good times over here.

I keep wondering to myself--shouldn't I feel less happy, given the fact that I have been working SO HARD to get PAID gigs in opera for the last 15 years? There is part of me that goes, "ugh. community theater? really?" but there is another part that thinks that part is a jerk. This is what I love--and this rich, interesting role that I have waited my whole life to do does not need a dollar sign in front of it to say that I will rock the house, love it, be happy, and be a real singer. Right? Right?

I have spent the last 20 years fighting the good fight. You can tell me "no". I have thick skin, and a thicker ego, I guess. I expect you to send me a "PFO" (an online term for a rejection letter--basically a "please F*&^ off" letter). I expect you to tell me exactly why you won't be hiring me. And with that, I hold inside me a faith that someday, at some point, I will steadily earn money by opening my loud mouth. And I am not sure if doing free roles is part of the "program". I have secretly held a sense of superiority and disdain for those who give their gifts for free--like a girl who doesn't hold out for the engagement ring, or something.

My good tenor friend in NYC says "there's always someone being paid in a show. Why isn't it you?" and I have quit things for that reason--the second I stop loving it.

But this I love. This, I dream of and wake up happy. And I remember about 10 years someone telling me that English theater (this was, of course, a friend of mine from England) doesn't equate success in the arts as much with money as American thetaer. Is that true? It sounds like us, doesn't it? We call it the ALMIGHTY DOLLAR and we mean it. There's a tv show I've watced in England where the prize is just KNOWING you were the smartest. Isn't that crazy? Who fights for honor anymore without at least a GIFT CERTIFICATE to take home!

This brings me to another thought. I was talking to a woman I know the other day and she told me a story about how her husband searched the house for change and came up with exactly what he needed to buy pancake mix and syrup. She told me how God had provided the change, how ecstatic they were to have pancakes. And it occurred to me that as much as we juggle bills and debt and stress--as much as I am ignoring that my car only starts about 3 out of 5 attempts and I am too scared to fix it--we have more money than that. If we need pancake mix, we can almost always just go get it. We can even buy marjorine. It's the good life over here.

But I'm not sure the good life is not worrying about money. There is something so edifying, so gritty, so faith-building about struggling for every dollar. It's not as bad as we make it out to be. It's actually....a great way to grow. It's the real stuff. Or at least, it makes room for the real stuff to be clear. Like singing a role you've always wanted. Like offering to teach a student in exchange for rehearsal babysitting and hoping that because of your need, some student who needs it will finally get the voice lessons they couldn't afford.

I believe it was Mae West who said "I've been poor and I've been rich. Rich is better." The quote makes me smile. But I'm definitely not sure it's true.

God I Hope I Get It

2010-12-16T08:16:00.000-08:00

This week I auditioned for the role of Mrs. Lovett in Sweeney Todd. I saw this show for the first time when I was about 13--it was a community theater show and I remember being stunned by the intensity of the singing and the staging. I had a pad of paper with which I collected signatures after the show. I know my father took me to see it--so I have a feeling he may have been interested in or friends with someone in the orchestra (that would make sense), because he never was a fan of musicals.

I always loved the idea of doing the complex role of Mrs. Lovett. I mean, here you have this dark, gloomy show about murder and cannibalism, and there are only two things that make you not feel depressed after this show--the lightness of the two young lovers who escape, and the fantasy world of Mrs. Lovett. I think I relate to her in this way. She is a bubbly murderer, a likeable psycopath, a humorous liar.

The show doesn't pay. And this goes against all of my "rules" of trying to get a paying career going. I want to keep up this idea of being at a professional level, I want, I want, I want. It's starting to bore me. So I have just decided to allow myself to feel ELATED at singing a role I love. Is that so wrong, Pipes? IS that so wrong?

I contacted the director, who informed me I could sing 16 bars of ANYTHING a capella. Bizarre. I am used to presenting a minimum of two full arias after driving 5 hours in a car. This.....this means I could PICK my key! This means I can stretch the tempo! Amazing.

I discussed with my husband what it meant that auditions "start at 7pm". Does that mean I have to be there at 7? I mean, I'm used to a set time. DEAR PIPES, YOUR AUDIITION IS SCHEDULED FOR 7:23 PM. PLEASE ARRIVE 20 MINUTES EARLY. That kind of thing. We decided promptness was never wrong, so I showed up at 7 on the dot.

I could wear anything I want. Some people at the audition looked like they could have painted a house after the audition. I "dressed down" by wearing a less fancy skirt and less jewelry. I felt quite overdressed. The auditions were so relaxed, so casual. People made jokes, the director was supportive (how odd) and you could watch everyone else audition. Barely anybody sang a high note. I had told my husband to come pick me up in an hour--and I had to run out and tell him I didn't know how long I'd be....everytime the director asked for a volunteer, "I need a Mrs. Lovett to come up and read" I got stuck in the back! I finally read, I felt ok about it, I felt great about the singing (why not, it was 16 bars!) and then I walked past the crowd of people smoking after their audition (again, very odd) and went out to Perkins for Spinach Salad (I love their spinach salad) with the hubby.

The next day I made Callbacks! I haven't EVER been called back for a role. The one show I did years ago that had callbacks actually just hired me, and told me I didn't need to come back. The whole night before I had writhed in pain with chills and hubby had vomited. I woke up with terrible stomach cramps. Every time I got up off of the couch I thought, "I cannot do this". Then I taught 4 students, got (less) dressed up again, and headed out to the callbacks.

The callback audition was a series of readings with different groupings of characters and I loved it. I loved every dramatic exercise, every challenge. I thought, "I just LOVE doing this so much" and never even thought of whether I was getting the role. After the first reading I tripped over my broken boot on the way back to my seat and twisted my ankle--which is still swollen today. The pain was searing, I would say. But even that was a sign at how wonderfully distracted I was.

I met some fun people at that audition. Some people who reminded me of New York, I would say, and that was wonderful. I overheard someone saying they needed the role, and I have spent the last ten years telling myself to never, ever say that. I never need the role (my mantra) I never need the role.

So I got the role! I will be playing Mrs. Lovett in March. I am SO EXCITED. Who doesn't love a little bit of good news?

Where the Baby Is

2010-12-13T00:09:00.000-08:00

This is just a report on Baby S at 15 months. I have spent the last few days feeling down about wanting to sing, feeling nervous about money, feeling helpless as i try to deal with her diaper rash, and I just want to think about some happy stuff. So here's a report.

At 15 Months Baby S's words are: Mama, Dada (and Daddy), Ginger, Max, Thank You, Shoe, Down, Hi, Hey, Bottle (or Ba-Ba, really), Nose, Hair, No no nono no no, Ball, Balloon, Happy (she says this ALL the time), Baby, and about 20 other words I can't recognize.

At 15 Months Baby S can run, walk, crawl, climb a step ladder, climb a chair and get on a table, shimmy under something to get a ball out, throw a ball (not great at the aiming part)

At 15 Months Baby S's favorite thing to do is immitate us. She wipes her nose with a tissue, brushes her hair and teeth, washes dishes, sweeps the floor, vaccuums, puts things away and takes them out. She also loves loud noises. She likes to bang things together, she likes dropping things that are loud and she likes turning things on that make a lot of noise. She is starting to really enjoy the Zebra that we bought her that she can ride on and make noise.

At 15 Months Baby S can spontaneously laugh at things. She loves repetition, and she loves anything which makes it appear she has manipulated something with her hands--for example, she laughs hysterically when you pretend like she moves your head with her hands. She gives "high Fives" and waves.

At 15 Months our biggest challenges with her are: Diaper Rash, getting the lead out of her blood, trying to get her to understand "no", getting her out of the dog water (sigh, this one will be the death of me), getting her out of the toilet, and trying to stop her from pulling heavy objects down on top of herself or falling off of things.

At 15 Months Baby S LOVES books. She loves to point at things that you have asked her to point at (like, "Where's the bird?") and she smiles hugely when you praise her for that. She brings me books all day long. Sometimes we read around 10 in a day.

At 15 months Baby S's cutest activities include: Giving you a "kiss", talking loudly to herself in the back seat of the car, talking quietly to herself in words that are incomprehensible as she does a detailed activity--like trying to fit something inside something else. She also runs to the door and yells "daddy" when hubby comes home and hugs his legs. She points at my nose and says "NOSE" and smiles, and giggles at things which make no sense to me.

Out of the Mouths of Teens

2010-12-09T22:54:00.001-08:00

Ugh Mama Pipes! Do not exercise at 10:30 at night. It will be two hours before I am asleep and poor hubby is trying desperately to sleep next to me while I type and both the tv and lights are on.

But since it's been going through my head, here are some of the most entertaining things I've been asked by students this fall, and my responses.

QUESTION: What do people do with a musical theater major?

WHAT I WISH I COULD HAVE SAID: They get to study what they love but will probably be poor and work a lot of temp jobs.

WHAT I DID SAY: Some people decide to go to college to find a way to earn money. Some people go to find a way to do learn more about what they love. Sometimes they get to do both, those people are really lucky. But a lot of those people will probably wait tables :)

QUESTION: DO I HAVE TO SING LOUD? (isn't this a weird question? I get asked this a lot)

WHAT I WISH I COULD HAVE SAID: Only if you want other people to hear you.

WHAT I DID SAY: If you have 10 people sing in front of your class, no one will walk away going, "you know who was really great? That super super quiet girl you could hardly hear." Let's try to sing as loud as we can and as beautifully as we can for as long as we can.

QUESTION: ARE YOU SURE YOU'RE RIGHT ABOUT THIS ITALIAN? MY CHORUS TEACHER SAYS ITS DIFFERENT.
(I cheated on this one, this was asked of me a few years ago but I'll never forget it).

WHAT I WISH I COULD HAVE SAID: No, You're right. Your small town Missouri choir teacher is also oddly an expert on a language she's never spoken and probably barely studied.

WHAT I DID SAY: I'm not going to argue with your teacher. you're 16. Decide what you want to do and I'll go with it.

QUESTION: If you go off and audition for a company does that mean I'll lose you as a teacher?

WHAT I WISH I COULD HAVE SAID: Yes, God willing.

WHAT I DID SAY: Sure--if a miracle occurs and my 1 in 25 auditions statistic suddenly changes, I get every audition I sing for and I figure out a way to support my whole family so my husband can quit his job, pack up the baby and follow me around the country on gigs. At that point yes, I will no longer be your teacher.

No I didn't say that. I just told them that opera jobs last 6-8 weeks and at this point come for me about every two years, so barring the best year of my singing life up to this point, they'd be safe. *sigh* But I hold in my heart the possibility that this could be completely wrong.

And just in case any students read this: No, no one ever got famous without practicing.

This morning the baby, lying on her changing table, held up her shoe to me and said (clear as day) "SHOE". I love this stage.

Five Alarm Hanukkah

2010-12-08T21:30:00.000-08:00

I have been thinking for the last few days about how I'd like to write a blog on the funniest questions I've been asked by students since teaching in Iowa....but I was just interrupted. Maybe I can do it tomorrow night.

I was interrupted by the sound of the smoke alarm. Hubby and I had a quiet Hanukkah tonight, after the baby fell asleep, and he'd worked out on our treadmill, and I'd fallen semi-conscious in our bed. We held hands and sang the prayer (he does about 2/3 of it, not bad for 3 years of marriage) and gave each other a nice set of 500 thread count sheets and an evergreen-scented candle. The candles glowed beautifully until we each retreated to two areas of the house and the fire apparently ignited the towel on the table. I went running in first, trying to beat out the falmes with a Fredericks of Hollywood catalog that hubby keeps conveniently on the coffee table, and hubby came running in with a bag of flour. Alas, we did not miss getting a big splash of wax on the wall, a burned towel, a menorah in bad need of cleaning and a lot of black stuff. But nothing burned. And you can't discount the blessing of a fire that never became a fire.

This morning started oddly, with me heading out into the car and the baby screaming her head off. I cancelled my whole morning to console her, and within about 40 minutes she was just "normal." Alas, sometimes you are the slave to a baby.

I dropped her off at her Wednesday daycare, (she was still sleeping) and went to teach. Two of my students did not show up, and a third one said she was sick and gave me a check. My gig at the high school leaves me with some unfair preferences for students--some pay for missed lessons, some don't. I have to come up with a list of rules or something.

In the middle of the day I got a call from hubby that Baby S was at the station with him. Apparently the sitter got sick, but the Baby did fine--munched on graham crackers while hubby wrote the 6 o'clock news, and entertained all the 20-somethings in the office.

And then somehow the evening ended here. I have things to do, but I find myself pretty much half-alive with exhaustion today. Maybe the mental strain, maybe the week off of teaching and having 13 students in 2 days has taken its toll.

The baby also learned this week how to climb. First it started with the step ladder. She now gets on the step ladder and washes dishes with me, makes scrambled eggs with me, and I find it's great for doing work in the kitchen. I set a snack on the counter next to me and she loves to stand up there, feeling tall, having her cheese or apple. But it also has its downside. She can climb up the chairs, get on the dining room table and destroy anything within reach. She does it with style, but it's a lot of work.

I suppose the blog is best ended by my husband's quote, as he looked at a half-sleeping baby in his arms, staring at the smoking menorah. "This is why you're not going to be allowed to have a menorah of your own." Enough said.

Not Crying over Spilled Milk

2010-12-06T21:45:00.000-08:00

I went to Arizona to see family for a week. That ended on Wednesday night, when I flew back, baby in tow, and saw hubby. We crashed, then I spent all day Thursday teaching, and then Thursday night I got into a (cheap) rental car, left the baby with the hubby, and drove to Indianapolis for an audition. See, here's the deal. These auditions are hard to come by. And I guess I still believe that tenacity is sometimes how you put together a career. I figure people move to Iowa (or another place that's not NYC) they get comfortable, happy, full, stop practicing, and stop auditioning. I do not want to give up. So if you give me an audition, I will get there. And my wonderful husband will shove me out the door and watch the baby.

I arrived in Indianapolis around 11:30pm, at the house of an old acquaintance of my husband, whom I'd never met, and crashed on his couch. My throat was on fire. I was definitely getting sick, and praying that it didn't matter. MIND OVER MATTER. I was so tired, I did silly things. Forgot my resume. Nice. I slept well, (insanely well), although I woke up with my breasts in PAIN and full of milk, and I suffered through the whole day, trying not to leak on everything.

I emailed, listened to the pieces I'd planned, re-vamped my approach, assessed how I felt, and tried to go in "smart".

I drove to the audition, where (unfortunately) the door to the outside of the building opened up into the large audition room where they were sitting, waiting for me (SO UNCOMFORTABLE). I asked if I could warm up. They were delightfully polite. I warmed up, came back in, and started singing probably before I was ready.

My first piece went REALLY well, but I could feel my lack of stamina already. The high note was shorter...I just couldn't do it with the power I normally can. I said to myself, ACT, BABY, ACT. Because I figured it wouldn't be a day of perfect vocal prowess.

A second piece went surprisingly well. The pianist complemented me--that helped. And then the head of the company asked for a "piece" of a third aria. "for contrast" he said. (another Rossini, which I thought was odd for contrast). Anyhoo...I sang some of it, but instantly I could feel pinched notes. I tried to get my feet under me, but I knew it wouldn't happen. I couldn't get the pianist to slow down, and I hadn't given her a tempo. DAMNIT. I made it through a section. I acted. I squawked out notes at the top that weren't great, but at least they were in tune.

I stopped. I said, "is that enough? We're taking it a little too fast, so I thought it might be a good place to stop." I laughed, trying to feel as utterly calm and casual as I could. The pianist profusely apologized and I responded, "oh no, it's me, not you" as much as I could. The company head was friendly, kind. He said, "it just repeats anyway" but I didn't feel great.

The last few auditions had been such victories. I suppose sick, tired, spilling milk, it was a victory in itself. But it's a bit tough in the wake of it.

I remind myself that sometimes I have sung the crap out of an audition, shined, done the perfect thing, and gotten nothing. I remind myself that I got jobs out of average singing. It's too hard to second guess. Just too hard.

Finding my Stocking

2010-12-01T00:01:00.000-08:00

My stocking is gone.

My relationship with the holidays has been strange. I grew up with a catholic dad. He was midwestern, and I adored him, and we put up lights outside together (though it was 60-80 degrees in Phoenix) and got an enormous tree. He made the whole thing sparkle. In fact, as a special thing, when he played "santa" he would leave tinsel on the tree and tracks from "santa mouse" and fill the stockings with creative, marvelous modern gifts and candy. My dad was really good at the show. He got you what you wanted. He knew. All year he may have followed through, he may have drunk too much, but he made sure the holidays were good.

I grew up with a Jewish mom. She was not a huge fan of christmas. She said we would blitz out on candy and be obnoxious by 10am. She was probably right. I remember sibling fights on christmas. I also remember my dad, exhausted by a "santa" run that started around 2:30 am, probably passed out by noon. It was never quite it was hyped up to be. Hanukkah, on the other hand--was simple, special. It was a few moments each night of warmth with my family. It was one or two gifts each night, and time to appreciate each one.

So as a single person, I just pretty much abandoned Christmas. I celebrated Hanukkah on the phone with my mom and usually my sisters, but on Christmas I did the following: I avoided crowded churches, went to the movies, ate a hot dog from a stand, and called my dad. Done and done. Nothing was ever missed. In fact, I LOVED the peace of those days! New York City is so quiet on Christmas (if you're up in Harlem). I do remember my first year going down to the upper west side and getting stuck in a revolving door of a movie theater. It was the MOST CROWDED movie theater I've ever seen. And as I got stuck in that door I heard the woman next to me yell "Jeez! Every jew in New York is at this theater!" I'll never forget that. I guess I had picked a team for that holiday.

When dating my husband, I'll never forget the conversation when he told me he (as a single man) had TWO christmas trees. Artificial (we always had real, and the smell of pine still makes me happy) and "themed". He got "wow gifts", and shopped 'till he dropped, and all of the things that made me feel uncomfortable about Christmas. He told me if we got married I'd have to get my own tree (rather than compromise his theme) and I got off the phone and cried. I had just found what made me happiest as a single person on the holidays, and did the opposite. He even ate (gag me) ham!

So . . . here we are. I've got a baby, I married that weirdo, and now I find myself trying to remember the things I most loved about the "trimmings" of Christmas. I loved having my own stocking, and now my dad can't find my childhood stocking! I loved the lights. The bell ringers outside stores are cool, and carols on Christmas Eve. I can't do carols that never stop for the two months prior....no way. But my husband decorates for Hanukkah now. He only puts up one tree (I still have to have my own) and we compromise.

All I have to do is find these things in my daughter's eyes. That's why we do it anyway, I think...to capture the thing we lost, the innocence. That kind of thing. I make no pretense about it being about the Bible...the easiest thing to do is just accept it for what it is. Commercial. Shiny. Innocent. That kind of thing.

Little Town Girl

2010-11-29T21:32:00.000-08:00

Ok--so November has been my worst month yet in blogging. I wish I could tell you why. I thought, "have I been happier? sadder? busier?" but all I can say is that I haven't written much.

You know you've been living in a small city when you forget about traffic. Isn't that weird? I just forgot about it. So driving around in Phoenix I was incredibly surprised to see traffic backed up at 6pm. I am amazed at the aggressive drivers on the freeway, trying to get home as fast and furious as they can, and so on. Not that Cedar Rapids isn't full of idiots who drive 45 miles an hour through parking lots and cut you off for no reason--but there are about 2 million less of them.

I started my time in Phoenix by "coaching" with a pianist from ASU. He was unbelievably likeable--friendly, and made an effort to get to know me. A little unexpected in appearance, as he was incredibly buff and looked like he had stuffed his tight black t-shirt with balloons. Fortunately, I have found some good new repertoire for auditions. Unfortunately, I have the same old problems. Why is it the same old problems? How can I still appear "shy" in my music at 36? HOW? He said my choices seemed to subtle, that my laid-back personality did not make the opera singing performance easy. All the things he said were right. I needed this coaching so much. It's funny--in New York, I had coachings and lessons every week, usually. At the very least, every other week. And now I get them annually (maybe twice a year if I'm lucky). And yet--I don't feel less prepared for auditions. I wonder how much you really need....especially in terms of how you learn to think for yourself musically!

Right now I am fantasizing about the unpaid role of Mrs. Lovett in Sweeney Todd, which I am auditioning for this month. Am I insane? When did unpaid start sounding good?

In the meantime, Baby S is lovin' Arizona. We did the aquarium with my friend's 2 month old son(a stark contrast to the exhausting toddler stage), and she yelled at fish, ran around singing "happy happy happy" (probably the most adorable thing she does) and then had a huge poop, which had to be changed on the floor of the aquarium. Thank you, motherhood, thank you.

Mama Was a Rolling Stone

2010-11-12T18:58:00.000-08:00

It's Friday, and my back hurts. I have had so many thoughts I wanted to put into this blog, but I'm annoyed by the ache in my back which won't go away. Since the trip to Chicago, I have pain in my very low back, which I can feel through my legs and my stomach as if I've eaten something bad. It makes me feel dizzy, and sick.

So basically 3 big handfuls of Ibuprofen a day and I'm good.

Hubby told me two days ago that he's applying to a job out of state. I wished there had been more discussion about this, though he knew I'd be fine with the area, it just seemed so sudden from "Mr. Settle-Down" himself. I guess more was happening on the job front than I was aware. But I am scared of more moves. I am having trouble thinking of anything besides "what comes next, and how am I going to survive it?" Did I get soft along the way? I used to be able to pack up my Honda and move across the country with just a snap. And now...there's so much more. I find my stomach is definitely not calm.

I sang a few good auditions, and I'm still contacting companies. I'm really ready to sing, and I believe there's something coming for me. It's been too long. We've got to get this ball rolling.

Where that will be, I've got no clue.

This week one of my students asked me, "What do people do with a musical theater degree?"

I paused. I think I understood the nature of the question, so I said, "Well, their plan is probably to do musical theater. But it's a degree that has some risk in it. They're not doing it to get rich."

She looked at me, thinking, and said, "Yeah, it's a big risk, right?" And I wasn't sure whether to defend that or not. It was too reasonable a conversation for someone who has made very few decisions based on what the most secure thing would be. After all, I'm 36, have had years where I made about $15,000 and felt VICTORIOUS that all I did was sing. I smiled at her, and said, "Well, I know plenty of people who've done it...but it's not for everyone. It's not too different from my music degree. It's the kind of thing you sign up for knowing you'll probably hold a few other jobs too." I smiled. I made it light. I figured she wasn't going to go for a musical theater degree.

Chances are, God love her, she's not leaving Iowa.

Honesty

2010-11-07T15:20:00.001-08:00

I haven't blogged in a while, and this article is really just to get some things off my chest.

I have been back from the audition trip for just about a week. I feel good about what's going on with my voice, and I am praying for an opportunity to use it! I hope to knock the pants off the next local audition too, but I feel somewhat disillusioned, and that's hard to get over. I have had so many great auditions that end in disappointment, I find myself wondering what has to occur in order to get a role. A miracle, perhaps, or at least a fair amount of prayer.

I am back in my 12 step program. God, apparently, snuck up behind me and tricked me into getting honest again. And I am excited about doing it! I am disclosing my food--"writing before I bite" as it were! And I am struggling with it, as always, and I am happy. I am not randomly shouting crazy things at my husband about what a failure I am due to weight. I am real with myself, and him. I have a group of people who expect me to be crazy. I am walking a trail of honesty, and it feels fantastic. And weight--well, I'm not weighing myself for a month or so--because I need this first. Peace. I am accepting that this is my life. I need more than a scale or a calorie count. I need a certain amount of peace.

This morning the pastor of our church resigned. We have been going to a church for two years. We joined a small group, I play in the band, I sing there, hubby sometimes makes videos, and I have even been going to another addiction group. Two and a half years. And I have no idea what happened this morning--a "mysterious" exit, a bunch of ambiguous honesties, and then a 45 minute lecture (under the guise of a sermon) about how we all need to jump on board and not leave, just because our church has decided to not really tell us what's going on.

I have no interest in going to a church where after two years, I have no one I trust,not a single friend, whom I could call and yell about this. No one who would call us if we just disappeared one day. The lack of intimacy is second only to the lack of honesty in my sadness over what happened this morning. I have no interest in being told, "hey, I'm not going to tell you what happened or why you should trust us, but you're a christian, so you should trust us." None at all. And the mysterious absence of a lot of key players in this makes me feel even more confident that I'm not looking at anything good here.

I am angry. I am sad. I am feeling abandoned and depressed. I feel like the biggest risk I took in getting to know people here just blew up in my face. And that's being honest.

Restless October

2010-10-25T22:11:00.000-07:00

Well, this month has been so nuts I can't even describe it. I now have 25 students. What? Two of my students were two of 4 girls at the schools where I teach to make it into the all state choirs. Though I hesitate to take credit for that, I still feel kind of like I must be awesome, right?

I have two auditions coming this month, unfortunately 3 hours apart (driving) on the same day. But I'll take 'em where I can get 'em. I hope I'm ready. Does that sound confidence-building? I'm singing really well but I feel like everything else is sapping my energy, stealing my mojo, as it were.

The eating is good. Not what I want--but I actually am reporting to someone else, paying attention to doing the next right thing, and not basing my life on the scales. Though that has never brought me skinny, it's often brought me peace and happiness, and hopefully health too.

Now--here's the troubles. I am overwhelmed. How can I get all of this done, the students, the auditions, the baby? Hubby and I wanted to go on a date, but I also just wanted to sit in my room and cry. Not sad. Just freaking tired.

And then two nights ago, the baby was doing her normal "I love to bug the dogs" thing, and Max bit her. On the face. It is not ....a mauling, by any means. But he broke the skin. In two spots. She bled for a bit, with my heart leaping in my chest, and he left tooth marks across her face.

Hubby loves him so much, and I love hubby, and now we have to come up with answers. We are not dumb....we are not thinking the dog is as important as the baby, but we know there must be solutions without sending him away. But now....

now....with all this stuff I have to get done, my heart is also tied up in this disaster. I am reminded every time I look at her sweet little mug with the red marks.

Four days until two auditions. One day until the next time I tell a room full of people I have an eating disorder. About 15 students in between that time. And then of course, the other stuff.

Childhood God

2010-10-21T23:04:00.000-07:00

I found the camera today, after its long vacation inside the couch. So baby pictures will probably be forthcoming.

The past 10 days have involved my eating a very restrictive food plan with almost no sugar and no flour. Oh, and no support. Guess what? Tuesday morning I weighed myself and I was up 1.5 pounds. I did not eat flour or sugar and I'm up 1.5 pounds. So i did what any insane person would do. I cried. I told my husband i was going to kill myself for being a fat failure. I told him I was the biggest liar in the world, that I would never stop lying to myself, that I would never be thin, that I could never be a good mom. It continued for a while. That poor loving man searched desperately for help for me. He asked me to go to a nutritionist. He looked at me with such sadness as I described how disgusting I was.

I am not a dieter. I am a person with an eating disorder. And it doesn't matter what weight I am. I am obsessed with food. I am obsessed with thin-ness. I am not in reality when I am not working a program. So Tuesday morning, I got back in.
And tonight, I am filled with joy. Seriously! I am filled with joy.

My first assignment by my sponsor (I am so freaking excited to have a sponsor, it's like I just went on a great first date) is to write about my childhood God. So I'm going to share what I wrote here.

Not just that. I committed my food today. And I ate exactly that. And it was restrictive, but a little less. You see....for me the trigger is not the food. It's the lie that I am somehow free, somehow normal, somehow not who I am. Which, although crazy, is also beautiful.

My husband lovingly told me tonight that I am in a cycle. The high, the good stuff happens person, and the other, the darkness. I fall into something that loves the angry self-talk, the obsession with weight loss. He's right. But I believe There Is A Solution

My Childhood God
My childhood God was gentle. I feel like I'm the only one who says that sometimes. I did not have parents who were religious at the time, but they talked lovingly about God, and sometimes I would imagine I was holding God's hand. God wanted to listen to me, spoke quietly to me, and laughed sometimes. I had a father who was so in love with me for the first few years, but pretty soon after was consumed by alcoholism. I think God took the character of that father of the first few years. I felt like God forgave me, knew me completely, and loved me anyway. God was strong enough to lean on. I know that as an adult, God is other things to me now. But often I feel that "original" God shows up and dusts me off a little. I feel precious to that God--even though as a grown-up I feel that word precious is weird. I long for my daughter to know the magic of my childhood God. Sometimes, God's voice would come into my head, and say simple things. Comment on what I was doing. I miss that voice. I think it's crowded out by me most of the time. Now my voice has so much more worry in it. More control. Less laughter. I fear I'm not supposed to just be happy thinking about the God of my childhood. But I am.

New Beginnings

2010-10-14T22:34:00.000-07:00

Has it been eight days? It has. Last time I wrote on this blog I spent a whole night sitting up in a recliner with a baby puking on me. First time she puked, I changed her pajamas, second time I took that set off. Third time I changed mine. I don't remember much after that, except the smell of old milk and the feeling of hot baby head on my chest.

That lasted 4 days. Well I should say the next few days baby and I went to sleep up in the attic to allow hubby to have some sleep, and hopefully function for all of us. Two days after that was over we all took an early morning trip to the hospital for hubby's "Throat expansion" as it turns out, he has both an allergic reaction which swells the opening of his throat and acid reflux, doing the same. It's amazing he can swallow at all. On top of that a bunch of other digestion-related issues and things that make me sad for him and our possibility of "saving up" for anything financial.

Just to put the cap on the whole week I woke up at 5am to the sound of our 2 year old dog Ginger having a grand mal seizure. We can't afford the vet visit until the following paycheck, but I am told the seizure meds are cheap. I still feel so sad for her, for us...you know, the whole shabang.

But let's say something positive. I went to a wonderful 12-step-lite meeting tonight where we talked about new beginnings. And it made me think of the title of my blog. In case you don't know, a cadenza (or cadence, in English, much less fun to say) is a musical term for a "transitional flourish". At least that's what I would call it. It signifies the end of a section of music where the performer either ad libs or the composer writes out a beautiful flourish. A certain "so long" to the past and "here comes the next exciting part". And at the meeting tonight a woman two seats away said the exact words: I NEVER IMAGINED MYSELF MOVING TO IOWA, BUT IT LOOKS LIKE WITH EVERYTHING THAT'S HAPPENED IN THE LAST TWO YEARS GOD WANTED US HERE. And I laughed out loud. Oddly, I belong here.

This is my corn cadenza. Here I am--stuck amidst field and farm--I am attempting a flourishing transition into something which connects my past and future. Transition is really hard. It's hard to believe in. Most of us sit in invisible cocoons thinking, "I'll never be an opera singer" "I'll never fall in love" "I'll never get a handle on this addiction" etc etc and sometimes we are already becoming that very thing.

By the way, I got an audition for Des Moines Metro Opera, in Chicago! That's two this month. AND, I've been off flour and sugar for 3 days! New Beginnings.

Girly Stuff

2010-10-06T21:22:00.000-07:00

So I am pissed off.

I am pissed off at about 7 people right now. Especially hubby. And I know better than to think something ridiculous like "everyone is awful". Maybe it's something more like...uh....me? Maybe I'm tired from teaching? Probably not. Maybe I'm stressed out about money, singing, friends. Maybe the baby is freaking annoying today, whining and trying to get in trouble. Or maybe some new turn of my body has been taken? Maybe a year after nursing a baby (still nursing, but it's been 13 months now) I am going to be moody again? It's been nice to be in this semi-menopausal state, pretty mellow too, but perhaps the angry, passionate, silly person is coming back. Good luck to you hubby! Good luck.

I am also adding--as I think about it--that the voice has been pretty decent in practice this week. Not quite so "husky" as it seems to have been lo these long 13 months. Perhaps things are changing in the throat as well.

Ahhh, normalcy. If only I could get rid of this damned "post pregnancy stomach" too.

Sickness Unto Death

2010-10-01T20:14:00.000-07:00

October is probably my favorite month in the midwest. It is crisp, beautiful, and the colors have just started changing. It's pleasant to be outside in the morning (in a little jacket) and in the afternoon in a t-shirt. It's perfect weather for walking, and today I packed up Baby S in a stroller and headed to my new favorite park.

It was the kind of walk that makes my heart feel like the beat has been regulated. After the last two days of teaching and taking my husband to the ER for an emergency issue with his throat (which, sadly, makes me most worry about the pricetag that brings) I needed a nice long walk. I needed a calming wind and a good workout. I headed through the park and into the cemetery, which I have never done. This particular cemetery is well cared-for and green. It's peaceful, quiet and has kick-butt hills which make my legs burn. It's reflective. And I found a lot of it fascinating.

I was fascinated by the number of children buried there. I was fascinated by how young people seemed--dying in your 60s still seems young enough to be tragic to me. I noticed that in our current culture the younger deaths had more ornate gravestones--pictures of the person buried there, quotations, gifts, humorous pictures. Immediately upon seeing some of them I felt a fear. Someday I would lose my mom, my husband, and even my own life.

As a person with a lot of faith, the thought of death is still scary. It is so unknown, so confusing. I waited my whole life for someone to love me like my husband does, and to imagine that we might only get 20, 30, 40 years together is not enough.

I also started thinking about the night before, when I looked up a girl I used to sing with at the Los Angeles Opera. She used to stand behind me and talk about how I was a mezzo and she was a soprano, and someday we would sing at the best opera houses together. And now she does. A simple google found her manager at Columbia, her gigs all over the world, singing roles that every college soprano dreams of. And she does it.

I thought about my husband getting teary when he told me I got offered a role last year by a little company that paid $200. I thought about the joy I felt singing a maid in Wisconsin, which is nothing on that ladder of success, but certainly something in that moment.

And then I thought about a sermon I once heard, entitled "Sickness Unto Death". I don't know how well I remember it, except for the ideas that really--at the end of the day, when faced with death, most of us want to decide what we're worth. We want to say, "ok, I did this...and so perhaps I can leave" The cemetery was filled with family plots, and I thought about the idea of someone being buried under a stone that just said MOTHER. I couldn't imagine that being all of me. I just couldn't. And I wondered what is it that I think I have to have? Do I have to have a family? Do I have to have to have accomplished something amazing? Does it have to be the thing I always wanted to do? Do I have to read the story of that soprano and feel less myself? Is my joy at getting a little role not something I take into the next world? What will they put on my gravestone?

I don't know when it's going to happen. I don't know how. And that leaves me today. If you ask me if I'd like to wake up in the morning to the sound of applause--a standing ovation--would that make me sure of what I'm worth, I don't know what I'd say. Do I have any idea of what I'm supposed to prove to God or to myself? Do I have to turn heads, to be something I always longed to be? I know that if I woke up each day and felt the voice of God say to me, "You're wonderful. I made you that way. And here's another day on earth to give that back to me" it wouldn't be too bad. Would it?

And so it begins again

2010-09-24T22:20:00.000-07:00

I stumbled upon an audition this evening, that (if it were granted) I could still make. So I am submitting for it on Monday. And so it begins again--suddenly I find myself searching through records, as it occurs to me that summer is ending and so auditions may be beginning. I am mulling over paying the moola to re-subscribe to some audition listings, which I let lag during my pregnancy and recovery...but now she's one, and I've done a few auditions since her birth, and well--I feel I'm meant to do more.

You know the Indigo Girl lyric "I could go crazy on a night like tonight, summer's beginning to give up her fight. Every thought's a possibility, voices are heard, and nothing is seen...." I love the way that captures my feeling of fall. The wind is blowing leaves around, the yard is green but the air is cool, and things are growing and dying at the same time. This little transition is my very favorite. From summer to fall.

And so it begins again.

I am wanting to sing everything. I am dancing in my head and imagining a thinner me--finally wearing the dress my husband bought me that's never fit. I am the mother of a toddler, talking to her and having fun enjoying my time in a store, not wiping up after a mewling baby. I am back in an active spiritual life. I definitely prefer the timing of the Jewish New Year. After all, does anything feel new in January? But the harvest--that is the time of renewal, I think.

And so it begins again!

I read the first two chapters. I wrote down what I ate today BEFORE I ate it (though I'd probably get a B for accuracy, at least I had a new plan). I feel thinner. I am yelling at my husband due to the lack of sugar's placating effect on me. I am fully me, and fully waiting for a new year. I want a couple of singing jobs. I don't want to be asked what I've been doing for the gap in my resume. I want to inspire some students to really do something artistically valuable.

And so it begins again.

Exhaustion & Depression

2010-09-22T21:40:00.000-07:00

As you can see by the title of this blog, this is going to be a real hoot.

Actually, I've learned over the last few years of my life that exhaustion leads to a physical and then emotional depression in me. These are short lived. In fact, one great night of sleep and it's pretty much gone....just....God help me for the night before.

I think the only reason this has stood out to me recently is that my schedule is much more normal than it's ever been, and generally, I'm much more tired.

Baby S is not really sleeping for the past few nights. Actually, I should say that last night, she got a fair amount of sleep (maybe 10:45 pm-7:15am, I think). But the preceding nights, I was up several times, finally to give in and put her in my bed, assuring both hubby and I a terrible night's sleep filled with being kicked in the ribs and a little space heater (the baby) shoved up into your back. My wrists, curled around her, the pillow and God knows what else, are still swollen. My back is moaning as I type. Couple all of those nights with three days of teaching and today, my Super Long day, I feel like crying.

So here's what I've realized....that "feeling like crying" also means I'm depressed. I feel miserable. I'm angry, I'm depressed, I'm hungry (dammit) and I feel nothing has ever or will ever go right in my life.

And so here's the epiphany...THAT'S THE EXHAUSTION TALKING! This doesn't mean it feels any better, but at least I know it's not true.

What's running through my head is a whole lifetime of this....how many of my college depressions were brought on by whole nights of being out with friends or studying until the wee hours? And that opera apprentice program where I wanted to kill myself and maybe take a few others out with me? I was pretty freaking tired there too.

I am in bed. Because I'm exhausted tonight, I can't sleep. After all--it isn't a matter of being sleepy. It's that full body, can't get off the chair, everything hurts (even blinking) tired.

I can't wait for Friday.

Free From the Land of Cable

2010-09-20T20:14:00.000-07:00

Posts like this make me feel a little trite, but I have to write them.

Iowa has had some challenges, some things I struggle with, and most of them have been surprising. It has also brought me some really fantastic things that I've waited my whole life to do. One of the worst things about Iowa has been the cable.

Yeah, you heard me right, the cable.

The local cable company (it's really a monopoly--there's another company but they're very small) has been ridiculous to work with. Supplying our phone, internet and tv, they've really had us by the throat every time they ....hmmmm....accidentally disconnected us and couldn't come out to fix this problem for a week, or charged us 40 bucks because we bought a new tv and they had to do about five minutes of reconnecting us, or had the phone work (occasionally), raised our bill by about 70 per cent without any notice, etc etc....

So we finally took the plunge and went satellite. I called to disconnect with the cable company and ended up talking to EIGHT people in one night. It was only fitting that our end with this company involved me screaming (in my most frightening non-operatic I'm going to kill you voice) MANAGER! MANAGER! MANAGER! Before hanging up on the first idiot. He really was an idiot. I actually didn't get the problems all solved until someone transferred me to the WRONG department and I ended up in the United States. Ahhhh, sweet mistakes. For the first time in 6 people, someone actually laughed when I said something funny. A sign that we were off script and speaking the same language. *sigh*

So the dish tv has been good so far, and the old-school phone that plugs into the phone jack is a dream! But we have a non-working remote for the small tv in the bedroom, where I abscond for "football night". (this is monday for anyone in my family who has no idea).

On football night, hubby gets pizza and watches whatever team is playing, and I bake a squash and watch the girliest crap I can in the bedroom. It's really surprising how much I enjoy football night--and honestly, if i could get someone to give me a facial, it would be perfect.

So on this particular night, we could only get the remote to work if we used it from the living room. This means I would yell out a channel preference and hubby would change the tv channel. It was pretty strange. I'd just yell "Is Family Guy on somewhere?" (not that this is girly tv, it's just not football) and he'd change the channel. There was a period of two minutes where i was staring at a picture of the moon with the time in hours, minutes and seconds. I don't know what happened there, but eventually he found Law & Order. Both of those shows seem to be in constant syndication (along with Everybody Loves Raymond) so it's better to just learn to enjoy them. Especially when your remote control is watching a football game.

Baby S is in the "putting stuff in stuff" stage. It's her favorite activity. This week I have pulled the hairbrush out of the toilet, her sippy cup out of the garbage (twice) dog food out of the dog water bowl, a cottage cheese container out of the bathtub (she got it from the recycling) and her out of a small hole in the ground.

As you can tell it was a slow night. We have 18 dollars in the bank until I get payment from a few voice students. (thank God for voice students!) but all in all, not bad. Oh, and the squash was excellent.

A Letter to My Friend on the Day Her Son Was Born

2010-09-18T21:40:00.000-07:00

It's been a pretty long journey for the two of us, huh?

I have written you a few of these letters over the last 30 years or so, in awe of time going by, but today I am as excited as if I'd had a child myself. I am wishing so much that I could be with you, thousands of miles away, lying in a hospital bed, wishing I could wash my hair and sit up for a meal.

I do remember imagining that someday we would live next door to each other with our husbands and babies, except I always had that caveat of how I would be a famous singer. We never did parallel in the way we expected. Instead most of our journey has been times far apart followed by times close together. We are like the pattern of a double helix--crossing each other at different moments, only to leave, knowing somehow, as always happens, our spiritual paths will cross again. We have struggled to understand each other's beliefs, we have lived on opposite ends of the country mostly. We have played in other parts of the world together. We have fought like cats and dogs, and sent loving cards to each other. We have battled our individual addictions in our own ways, and longed for things that were probably bad for us during times we never talked. We have long outlasted all other relationships.

You found someone to love you before I even knew I wanted that for myself. By the time I was feeling pretty for the first time in my life you were getting married. I sang at your wedding, and flew in like a celebrity to make sure I was the one helping you on with your beautiful dress. And years later, when I got married on the first anniversary of our friend's death, which changed you forever, you quietly flew the other direction and fixed every wrinkle in my dress, holding in your sorrow.

I am so excited at this new crossing of our paths, having babies at the ripe old age of 36 and 37 (because it was never really our goal). It's a new beginning and an expected part of this cycle! I hope to watch our children grow and hopefully, for them to share any part of the love we've had for each other would be so incredible.

But most of all tonight I think I feel lucky, and I feel sad for those who never know this kind of lifelong friendship. All the ups and downs, and at the end of the day I feel like that kid is mine as much as yours. I am so excited for you to know the joys and expectations of the word "mom". I am excited for you to have a baby with a cold lie on your chest and cry because you moved a millimeter away from them (to get your cup of water) because they can't possibly feel better unless they are surrounded by you.

I love you--I love your little son who has no name yet, and I pray God's blessings on him, all over him, making him the most wonderfully gentle man we've ever known.

Annnnd it's Thursday

2010-09-16T20:46:00.000-07:00

So, the new schedule has arrived. It goes like this:

Monday: Hubby is off work. We sleep in (ish), I don't teach much(ish--I do teach in the evening) and we try to do things that feel like "a day off" (eating lunch out, random projects, 2 hours in Target wondering why I'm spending two hours in Target, and probably a drive somewhere (even if it's 10 minutes away) that we've never been.

Tuesday: Hubby is still off, but we know I'm working a lot. We do a few things in the first part of the day, and then in the evening I teach about 5 students. We still do things that feel like "a day off" but I'm exhausted, and the house is cleaner.

Wednesday: I am up first, I make lunch for everyone, kiss hubby goodbye, drive myself and the baby (probably late) to my Weds morning Bible study, have a picnic in the park with the baby, drop her off at daycare, and teach 7 students (one after another) in the afternoon. I feel like collapsing when I pick her up at 4:30. Hubby and I both sit in a semi-coma in the living room at the end of the day.

Thursday: I am tired, but I can get up later. I make sure a workout happens, even though it hurts. Drop baby off at daycare midday, teach again all afternoon, come home feeling F-R-I-E-D and sometimes teach an evening student. I make dinner and hide away in the bedroom to watch Project Runway. I consider all the things I really should do, like go to the 12-step meeting I've wanted to try, or rehearse with the band for church, but I'm trying so hard to put an exhausted baby to sleep, I don't get to.

Friday: For the most part, this is my day off. I get up late, do a thousand loads of laundry, do TWO workouts, eat less, and teach one or two students (whose mothers watch the baby during the lessons) in the afternoon. It's nice. Hardly hurts at all. Hubby comes home at a normal time and we might even have a dinner out. Might.

Saturday: Morning free, hubby works at 1:30, usually I teach a student around noon. We try to do a bunch of my favorite things on this day (like farmer's market, or a nice walk) but I usually end the day a little bored and alone.

Sunday: Church, lunch, no students, sending hubby off to work with a nice packed lunch, maybe even visiting him. Finishing up the night alone, and probably falling to sleep before he gets home.

I lost two pounds this week. And tomorrow is Friday

Too Much to Think About, Really

2010-09-13T21:10:00.000-07:00

I just entered my calories for today and it's about 1550. I really should be pleased with that number, since I know I can lose weight at that number, but since I was aiming for 12, I'm somewhat disappointed.

I also took today off of working out. I am so sore from exercising that I just wanted one day to rest on my muscles. However, I believe that muscles need to continuously be pushed, so tomorrow I am exercising first thing!!!

Baby S fell down a step today, then off a bed, then over a gate. *sigh* She's got a little red mark on her cheekbone. Amazingly resilient, and tired, I think. She slept a short night last night, is sniffly, and only a one hour nap today (slightly less, I think).

I taught two students today...two very talented students whose problems are easily identifiable. Those are the easiest students to teach--you can build them up with real and authentic compliments, and yet also repair the things that are not going well. Tomorrow I have 6 students between 3:30 and 7:00. I am tired thinking about it.

Then early the next morning I get up and start Wednesday--my longest day. When you're freelance, each day has its own personality. Monday's kind of a big dog....fun, friendly, but there's always a little work involved.

I haven't begun to read the diet solution book. I can only assume I'm nervous to read it, as when I want to dive into something, I just dive in.

Wish me luck.

A time in September

2010-09-12T21:01:00.000-07:00

Good weekend. I did a rehearsal tonight for my "little singing gig" in Iowa City. This is a paid gig singing a composer's recital in a chorus of about 10 people. The music is jazzy, difficult, and pretty. So I am excited. I am fighting the feelings of this being "lower" somehow than what I've done before. For an hour, I was doing what I feel I do best. On the way home, I sang so much and so loudly in the car that I was hoarse. I sang everything I could think of. So let me just take this as a sign of being happy. I played piano in church, which I always enjoy, had lunch with the hubby and baby, worked out twice, and sang in a rehearsal. THAT is a good day.

The weather is beautiful. Do you remember a time in September when grass was green and grain was yellow? I do.

This week has a lot of teaching voice, (a lot), more lead inspection, my first week of BSF (a bible study where I get to hang out with some young mothers that I really enjoy) my first week of attending our small group in a while, and hopefully the beginning of a nice routine. I teach 24 students this week. Whew. Let's see what that feels like--Starbucks, here I come (I'll have to start putting that into my food plan).

I wrote down what I ate today, but have decided not to list it here. I'm feeling very "clean". Very honest about what I'm eating, exercising a lot, and I got a book from the library called the Beck Diet Solution, about using cognitive therapy in dieting. I'm really eager to see how that goes.

Maybe I will spend the first few hours tomorrow morning reading that :) What a nice thought. Generally, my students are mostly on Tues, Weds and Thurs, so Monday and Friday are easy. Generally.

Nothing too profound in this blog entry, huh?

Baby S has learned to brush her hair. You say..."Where's your brush?" and she goes and finds it and pushes it to her head. It's amazing.

The year of the Ox

2010-09-09T21:58:00.001-07:00

Today was a good day. We had a lot of routine: Walk in the morning, lunch together, nap. We had a few "second times": drop off at daycare, teaching at the high school. We also had a fair amount of miraculous events: Baby stayed during a voice lesson at home, house was actually presentable, got through the day and felt pretty darn good.

I am avoiding thinking about the fact that my baby has lead poisoning and it is likely that I do too. I am treating her in every way they're telling me. I am planning out every meal for her so that she eats iron and vitamin c together. I am praying for her. But I know that I, with my anemia and headaches, need to get tested too. I just don't want to hear of anything else about me that isn't healthy. I am strong as an ox, I tell you!! I am.

I am meeting tomorrow night with a composer who is doing a master's recital at UNI. I am going to be singing in a "small schola". I do not actually know how many people that is. Isn't that awesome? It's been so long since I heard a term i didn't know, *sigh*. I am singing in this schola (in a recital) because the director of the local opera company recommended me. And it's paid! So that means that someone (who hasn't hired me) does think of me as good...it means getting involved with some local music. It means spending my Sunday nights singing and learning and growing. Ahhhh....little things mean a lot.

Today is Day 4, I believe. Day 4 of writing it, of owning up to it. That kind of thing. My abs hurt, which is weird because my c section keeps me from feeling certain sections of my stomach.

FOOD
Breakfast
1 1/2 cups multigrain cheerios (measured in a measuring cup!)
milk

Lunch
egg salad w/ lowfat mayo
lettuce, whole wheat bun
1 serving baked chips
1 apple

snack
iced coffee, soymilk, no sugar
piece of the coolwhip/jello pie from last night

super long time between lunch and dinner so...
snack
1 apple
1 cookie (rrgh)

Dinner
4 oz (weighed) lean pork
1 1/2 cups brown rice
a bunch! of grilled veggies (brussel sprouts, mushrooms, onions...)
salsa
1 corn on the cobb (after dinner)

evening
1/2 cup measured lowfat ice cream (totally unsatisfying as far as portions go)

then, I made myself not eat a piece of chocolate!

WORKOUT
40 minute "hillwalk" up all of the big hills in the area.
7 minutes of biggest loser for wii before baby threw herself on the board and started crying.

First Day at the New Job

2010-09-08T21:14:00.000-07:00

Baby S went down a little early for her midday nap, and so I had plenty of time to write down names of students, plan for my first day, clean a bit and pack up her bag. I put off showering a bit, but finally found myself dressed a few minutes early. I went out to move the car closer to the house to load everything up. And it didn't start.

There is always that brief moment where you just close your eyes and wince.

I went next door and no one was home. I knew the battery was dead and I probably just needed a jump. I had no idea how I had let the battery die, but there you go. I ran across the street to the church where there were quite a few cars. A receptionist told me that everyone was in the mirror. There was a moment where I stared at her, trying to silently say: Christians? Here's your chance to serve... and it must have worked. Moments later a man came out of the church (oddly, this is a man I'd never met whom I've been emailing about teaching voice to his choir students. Go figure)

He came over, I found the jumper cables. We started my car. He told me to say hi to the choral director at the high school. I tried to be polite but I was dying to get out of there. I packed the sleeping baby in the car. I took off for daycare. I dropped the baby off in a crazy hurry...would have been nice to chat with daycare.

I drove to the school, late. I called the director and left a (far too frantic) message about my lateness. I arrived at the school about 8 minutes late (amazing) and taught five students back to back. It was enjoyable. I do love teaching. Of five students only one remembered to give me a check, however.

Upon arriving home I was way too tired and way too hungry. But satisfied by the day.

I also haven't mentioned that the local opera director apparently recommended me for a composer to sing in his recital. So I am performing next month! Not exactly a dream job...but paid. And I didn't even have to try out :)

Here's my food for the day.
breakfast:
2 eggs
1/2 piece of toast (Shared w/ baby)

yogurt snack

lunch/afternoon
1 apple
2 slices toast with 1 oz cheese & mustard
1 little debbie cake (ugh)
1/2 cup baked chips
very small glass orange juice

dinner
meatloaf--probably 5-6 oz
1 very large baked potato w/ salsa
green beans
(I then ate hubby's potato skin)

after dinner
1 large slice sugar free jello/cool whip pie with strawberries
another small baked potato with salsa. (then forced myself to stop before it got ugly)

WORKOUT: 45 minute brisk walk with baby & dogs

Day 2: More Calories, More Exercise, and More Exhaustion

2010-09-07T19:40:00.000-07:00

I am so tired.

This morning was the lead inspection. At 11 we rushed an hour north for hubby to do a Toys for Tots meeting. I shopped at Goodwill. We ate lunch out. We rushed back for my lesson, and my student (FOR THE THIRD TIME) cancelled an hour before her lesson. We met up with our new daycare provider where Baby S had the time of her life, so I have a good feeling. I am also praying I have wisdom on this.

I came home and hubby and I had a short argument. Then I worked out so hard I thought my eyeballs would explode. I still kind of have a feeling like I could throw up--3 and a half hours later. And tomorrow I start a new job.

Side note: Baby S was so adorable today. I don't know how to describe it adequately. She walked through the restaurant yelling funny things at people and smiled all day.

I am falling asleep as I type this. So here's food.

morning:
1 cup of cereal
1 per cent milk
(1/4 of Baby S's dry pancake)

midday snack:
1 cup baked spicy chips
1 Liter of water

lunch (and I wissssh there were some better choices here):
6 buffalo wings
celery stalks
carrot sticks
about 1/4 cup cole slaw
small shared portion of onion rings

dinner:
grilled turkey sandwich
green beans
child's portion of black forest ice cream.

Workout: 45 minutes of intense "biggest loser for wii"

Day 1

2010-09-06T19:29:00.000-07:00

I felt a certain conviction this morning. I know, this is something I've felt so many times before, but I believe that something can happen the 100th time. It can. So I am calling this day 1 of the time I finally got my weight to where I believe it should be.

In order to make this time different, I'm going to do something I've never done. I'm going to "say" my weight (type it) out loud...to a bunch of people. I'm going to own it, albeit horrifyingly embarrassing, and I'm going to declare that I'll never hit this high weight again. It's the most I've ever weighed.

So today is September 6, 2010 and my weight is 264.4

At the start of the summer it was 7 pounds less. So this has not been a good summer. I see that weight and I cringe. I want to tell myself a bunch of ugly things. But at the request of my husband, I'm going to remember that I was loved at this weight. Today I am going to write below what I ate (I know, not exactly a gripping blog report) and I'm going to reward myself (internally) for each and every day I came back to do it.

Today was a nice day. It was relaxed, beautiful and full of smiles. I taught a lesson, i got more students, I went on a trip to a small town with hubby and baby in tow. I went to bed early.

morning:
1 cup low sugar cereal
1% milk

lunch:
big grilled chicken salad (at a diner)
coffee with 2% milk, water
1 TBS ranch dressing

snack:
frozen strawberries blended with 1 tbs sugar free jam and 1% milk (about 1/2 mug)
1 cup baked bbq chips

dinner:
1 ear corn (no butter)
cucumber salad (cucumbers, red onions, homemade salsa, 1 tbs lowfat sour cream)
1 cup white rice w/ hot salsa
5 oz (weighed) bbq skinless chicken breast

after dinner:
1 fat free yoplait yogurt
2 tbs diced pineapple

How Can I Keep from Singing?

2010-09-05T22:51:00.000-07:00

My husband has had so many Sundays off this month, I fear I might get used to it. First a vacation, then a make-up day for working a holiday, and then another one??!!! We had a nice day today, pretty much a normal Sunday for most people I guess, but ours is special because weekends are usually me alone with the baby.

I just got a job teaching at a local high school two days a week in the afternoons. I will now have 9 students on Weds & Thurs, and will independently contract (meaning the school will not set rates, collect money or help me collect) and that is fine with me! It's just like what I do now but I didn't have to go find these students and I have a better chance of no last-minute cancellations or crazy rescheduling.

Also *dum dum dummmmm* I have to find daycare for those two days, something which has proved to be just about impossible here. The three reasons are: 1. most people want to do full-time daycare 2. everyone I ask has a friend or family who watches/watched their children and 3. I am made aware again of how few people I know well here. As of tomorrow, I think I will start calling people who are advertising, rather than try to ask for recommendations. So far that has been a dry well.

I watched a bit of a musical on tv tonight, and found myself smiling like an idiot, then doing a search on youtube, trying to figure out if I can sing musical theater. I always want to sing. It's funny, like a constant undercurrent...something undetected in my blood. It's always there. And wanting to sing involves a myriad of other things. I want to sing in front of people, with an orchestra, with a challenge, with partners, with rehearsals, the risk of failure, the promise of success. It's all there. Wanting to sing is not really ever just wanting to sing in the shower, unfortunately. It's always there.

I want to write about another thing...which is the discovery of lead in my daughter's blood. Ugh. Thank God the tests were done. Thank God the nurse is coming again on Tuesday, thank God she's positive about the whole thing and says we can nip this in the bud. Because I feel guilty and dumb. I am so mad that we couldn't keep our work away from her. I am mad that I was so impatient to finish the work on the porch that I risked having her too close to the whole thing, or not showering before I touched her. I am eager to see what our Tuesday inspection reveals. I am also scared, and sad. I am hoping with my whole heart that by next month it is more than half gone. I am praying that nothing comes of it. That we get rid of it and Baby S is perfect again. Praying.

Firsts

2010-08-31T20:48:00.000-07:00

Baby S, now one year old, had a very interesting day...it is interesting to see how FAST the firsts are coming lately. We took her to lunch where she dipped french fries in a little cup of ketchup--delicately and perfectly (she did not eat the french fries, being way too interested in the dipping). She also tried the same thing later with her green beans and my cup of iced coffee, which was much less enjoyable to watch.

After arriving at home with her dad, we took her out of the car and she WALKED to the house! Walked! It was drunken walking, including about 6 falls, and sometimes walked off to the side, laughing, but she seemed like a huge person! A child, not a baby.

She brought the phone over to me, when I asked her to "bring mommy the phone" and gestured to it. She also crawled through her new tunnel, laughing hysterically as we watched.

She can put all of her new blocks back into her bag, and said a perfect "bye bye". She has also gone from 'da da' to something that sounds more like "daddy". Amazing.

I started a new diet today, thank God. Weighing myself, it appears I have gained 6 pounds this summer. Ugh. However, there is a nice feeling to Day 1. I always like that. I worked out hard. I ate salad and skinless chicken. I drank water.

Baby S had her 1 year appointment. She is in the 50th percentile for height and the 20th for weight...tall & skinny, just like I thought! Her head is in the 77th percentile! So she's got quite a noggin', apparently. She also did a finger prick and her blood showed some lead....so we were back today, holding her down as she screamed and they took blood from a vein, just to be sure. Hopefully it's nothing, it's a trace, and vitamins will be enough to get rid of it.

I'm choosing not to panic yet.

And I got an email from a local high school saying that they were interested in possibly having me come during the school day and teaching 9 students a day on Weds and Thurs. That would pretty much solve our financial issues. So--praying. This is the first result of my contacting all of the high schools in town a few weeks ago.

So those are our first fruits of fall.

Happy Birthday to My Daughter

2010-08-27T22:12:00.000-07:00

One year ago today, at almost exactly this time, I heard the doctor say "it's a girl?" (questioning tone included, due to her thinking I'd said it was a boy) and saying over and over to myself "I have a daughter" in this kind of strange daze. It continues to be the most surreal moment of my life. I knew that I would never be the same person. And you? You were born!

Just now, you fell asleep beside me, after getting really angry with me that I wouldn't let you play with Bubbe's phone. You cried, though it was one of your 2 second angry cries. You walked all night--all around the lawn, up and down the stairs to the porch (your favorite). You ate chinese food with us, and played your coughing game.

I love everything about you. But loving you is actually not what I ever expected. It doesn't really feel like anything. It's more like something that just is. You make me aware of my own mortality--I never want to leave you. You make me more aware of my faith, and my desire for you to have the life-changing moments with God that I've had. I want you to believe in miracles and prayer, and doing the right thing when it's hard, and always trying to know God more. I want you to be wise, and happy, and have every possible opportunity.

You were a special gift--unexpected after 35 years. You were something I never thought I wanted, but now something I can't imagine ever living without. You are really a dream come true. Except of course, I didn't even know I had this dream.

I am surprised by your blue eyes, your dexterity, your love for Baby TV, your thrill with banging things together, taking everything out of the dishwasher, rolling around with the dogs, yelling happy things in your stroller. You play a mean piano (and I do mean mean) and you sing along, and you're not even 1 yet!

You hate hats. You love taking your shoes off. You eat anything, even gross stuff, but you can never seem to get enough ice cream. You make me feel like I'm made out of love, and you can just run to me and get it whenever you want. And that is probably my favorite part.

Nothing makes me happier than seeing you run to your Dad, and how happy that makes him.

Tonight I pray that someday you know God and that we have forever together. I pray that you know empathy, that you feel compassion, that you have the kind of character that makes you walk your extra change back to the store. I pray you don't take yourself seriously too often, that you love people for being different, and that you have years and years and years before you ever have to think of yourself as "hot or not". (Maybe forever? Can I ask that?)

I also pray for a good home for you. I'll do everything I can to be a safe place all the time. And I'll ask God to do the whole thing for me too, since it's the only way I could ever do it.

Every day of my life I have a daughter. Thank God for you, Little Chicha. Your sleeping backside, pajamas dirty with God knows what, makes me feel a whole new purpose.

Happy Birthday.