anniversary — Page 11

That Fateful Fourth

July 4, 2016 at 9:06 am by Claudia

onthebeach2

Year: 1994

Scene: San Diego, specifically Ocean Beach

Cast of Characters: a teacher/coach and an actor, along with a host of actors, designers, directors

On that Fateful Fourth, a woman woke up in her apartment in the Hillcrest section of San Diego. She had just finished her first year of teaching in the Graduate Acting Program at USD/Old Globe and was now in the midst of coaching a production of Brian Friel’s Wonderful Tennessee. But that had been put on hold while she was on Jury Duty for five days. The Fourth was a welcome break from a tedious trial and she and her great and good friend Rick were going to their friend Kathy’s home on the beach. She decided to make guacamole as her contribution to the party. (Kathy’s parties were renowned around the Globe; there was always an ongoing barbecue, with staff from the Old Globe, and visiting actors and designers who were in town for the summer making an appearance throughout the day. At the end of the day, everyone walked a hundred feet or so to the beach to watch the fireworks.)

By the way, that was the first and only time she made guacamole.

Sometime in the afternoon, Rick picked her up and they drove out to Ocean Beach. It was a beautiful day, and the house was full of friends and colleagues and laughter and great conversation. As the day went on, this woman was in and out of the house, talking to everyone and especially enjoying the company of those actors she was coaching in Wonderful Tennessee.

A peculiar thing happened. Every time she came in the house, a man who was sitting on the sofa would smile at her. I mean…every time.

A bit of back story: She knew who this man was. He was an actor. She’d seen him onstage the summer before when she flew out to San Diego for her job interview. On a break from the stressful interviews, class teaching, and constant smiling that goes hand-in-hand with this sort of interview, she went to see a production of Morning’s at Seven. Included in the cast were her friend Kathy (who she knew from her time at Boston University) and several other actors, including a guy who played the character of Homer. She remembered liking his performance very much and looking at his bio in the program, along with his headshot. He was back at the Globe to play Malvolio in Twelfth Night.

He didn’t know who she was, but he asked around and found out.

She was normally shy in this kind of situation, but after a certain number of smiles, she found herself going over to where he was sitting (which happened to be next to her friend Rick) and introducing herself. She was invited to sit down and join the group on the sofa, whereupon she and this man starting talking about themselves and the curious state of being in their early forties. He had just turned 43. She was still 41.

They talked and laughed and really liked each other.

Later on, when the convivial group was sitting on the beach to watch the fireworks, she noticed him catching her eye and smiling. She smiled back.

When she and Rick were ensconced in his car and headed homeward, she kept thinking about this guy and smiling. He’d definitely made an impression.

A week or so went by with the woman feeling like she was back in high school, engineering ways to run into him at the theater. Each time they saw each other they learned a bit more about each other. One day, they ran into each other in the courtyard of the theater and sat on a bench and talked some more, whereupon the man asked her if she’d like to go to a movie with him once Twelfth Night opened.

She answered in the affirmative.

There were some delays. His production had to open. Her production was in technical rehearsals and her friend Joe was coming to visit for a week. In the meantime, one of her students who was understudying the lead in Twelfth Night had to go on one night during previews, so she went to see the play and was blown away by the performance of this man as Malvolio. She says to this day that he was the most brilliant and funny Malvolio she has ever seen. Her friend Rick turned to her during the performance and said “He is absolutely brilliant!!” and she shyly confided to Rick that she was going to go on a date with him soon. After the show, she waited for the man so she could tell him how wonderful he was as Malvolio and they hugged each other.

Her show finally opened and the opening night party was at a local restaurant and this man came to the party and proceeded to flirt with her and basically spend most of the evening at her side. When he offered to drive her home, she went to get her purse and found it had been stolen. Everyone looked for it, but it was gone. The man, seeing how troubled she was, drove her home (she can’t remember why she had the keys to her apartment when they should have been in her purse, but she did) and after making sure she would be alright, walked her up the three steps to her door, whereupon he surprised her by kissing her rather passionately right there on the steps.

Those steps, right there on the first floor.

She found herself feeling a curious mix of emotions, worry about her wallet and her credit cards, and the fact that an extra key to her apartment was in that wallet which meant she would have to change the locks, as well as lingering memories of that kiss. He called the next day to check on her.

Finally, one Monday – the day off at the theater – they went on that date, which ended up taking place on the beach, where they talked and talked and talked. When he drove her home, he came inside and he proceeded to lay another kiss on her that literally made her lose her balance and nearly fall over.

She says that he is the best kisser, ever.

They’re still together.

Happy 22nd Anniversary, my love.

Happy Monday to all of you. Happy Fourth of July.

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Eight Years

February 17, 2016 at 10:05 am by Claudia

2-17 me2

I’ve come out of my hiding place to acknowledge and celebrate the anniversary of this blog. Eight years ago today, I hit publish. That first post, on Blogger, was just some text. The next day I figured out how to add a photo.

Baby steps.

Occasionally, I read posts by bloggers in which they are considering getting rid of older posts that don’t reflect where they are now. I always shake my head at that idea: you wouldn’t be where you are now without the journey you’ve taken. Right? Those older posts of mine, though shorter and somewhat tentative, are just as real and valid as any post I’ve done since.

They stay.

Over the course of this past eight years, I’ve kept to my vision for this blog. It’s a simple one. To share my life in our cottage with you. Until I got a laptop later in that first year, I was unable to share my life on the road with you, but as soon as it was purchased (in Iowa, on a coaching job) – freedom!

Along the way, I played the with idea of trying to get more readers. But the way in which I would have had to do that never felt like the right fit for me. It felt calculating. It felt false. About three years into the process, I started blogging every day, thinking it would help my ad income, but eventually I realized it was a gift to myself. The practice of writing a blog post every morning was grounding. It gave me focus. It kept me honest.

I also discovered a love for photography. What a gift that has been!

I accepted who I am and what this blog is; a daily journal that I share with you, my readers. To be perfectly honest, writing about one thing, one niche, all of the time would drive me nuts. I have a lot of passions and I refuse to limit the blog to just one. That specific focus, by the way, would have been a way to make this blog a money-maker. But it just isn’t me.

So I keep blogging, earning enough money from ads for the blog to pay its way, and that’s just fine.

I started out on Blogger, decided to move to WordPress in 2012, learned enough coding to design a layout and a look that I liked, and here we are today. Yes, there are hassles. Nefarious types are always trying to hack into the blog. Actually, if you blog, they’re always trying to hack into yours as well, I just have the security measures in place that tell me what’s going on at any given moment. Maybe ignorance is bliss? Anyway, it’s annoying and sometimes alarming, but in the big picture, it’s not a big deal. I’ve never regretted my move to WP. I have more control over the look and feel of the blog. It’s a good fit for me.

Along the way, I’ve shared our home with you. I’ve shared my gardening adventures. I’ve shared my on-the-road stories. I’ve shared my handwork. I’ve shared the dollhouse – from its very beginnings to its publication in two magazines. I’ve written about my husband and my dogs and my sister and my parents and my nephews and nieces and my ‘lost’ sister and my friends and colleagues. I’ve written about my work and my love for the theater. I’ve written about things I believe in. I’ve written about animals and animal rights. I’ve written about my longtime vegetarianism. I’ve written about the serious and the silly.

I’ve shared the painful loss of Don’s father, my mother, my father, Riley, and Scout.

I couldn’t have done that without you. Truly. Without you out there reading, commenting and reaching out to me, I probably would have thrown in the towel. One of the best things about the move to WP in 2012 was that it gave me the chance to reply to comments and to let you know, via email, that I had replied. The conversations that have come out of that have been stimulating and moving and funny and sad and everything a good conversation between friends should be.

Thank you. Thank you for being there. Thank you for being there anytime, but especially in those times when I have suffered profound loss. I can never thank you enough for that.

I can’t imagine not blogging, but who knows? Maybe somewhere down the line, I’ll feel it’s time to move on. But not right now. Right now, with your understanding that I will occasionally take a few days away from the blog, as I have been doing since the loss of Scout, I’ll keep on keeping on, as they say.

Thanks. And Happy Wednesday.

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Chatty on Tuesday

October 13, 2015 at 9:11 am by Claudia

10-13 anniversary

• Self-portrait, shot on the porch at Cracker Barrel yesterday. Or should it be Selves-portrait? I’m trying to avoid the use of the word ‘selfie’ if at all possible.

If you follow me on Instagram, you know we went for the big bucks and celebrated at Cracker Barrel. I know, you’re thinking that we really went all out for this anniversary.

Actually, we love Cracker Barrel but go there rarely. We’re low key about celebrations, so when Don suggested CB, I was in. As it was it took us forever to get there because of all the traffic. Thousands and thousands of people head up to our neck of the woods on fall weekends and, inevitably, they have to head back home, causing traffic back-ups for miles. It’s a pain in the you-know-what. But we got there and, of course, had to wait for a table. By the time we sat down, we were starved!

Then we watched the Mets play the Dodgers. (I love the Red Sox, but I also love the Mets.) They won.

10-13 quilt on chair

• The nights are getting very cold. Quilts and throws are making an appearance.

10-13 quilt on bed

This bed cover is very heavy, so I usually stash it on the chair in the summer months. But it’s back on the bed, keeping us snug and warm as we transition to cooler nights.

• Here’s a random thought:

10-13 imperialstormtrooper

Every time I look at my vacuum, I think of the Imperial Stormtroopers from Star Wars.

Is it just me? I’ve thought that since the day it arrived in the mail.

It’s a Shark Navigator, by the way, and it’s fabulous. And far less expensive than the over-priced Dyson. Just as in the theater or film, we Americans seem to be taken in by a British accent.

This vacuum is a especially great with dog hair and we have a lot of it around here.

• My dad is still in the hospital. They’ve found a fracture in his spine which needs to be treated with either injections that might be dangerous for a 92 year old man, or physical therapy. The doctor says he cannot be on his own right now and has recommended physical therapy, so that means he has to move to rehab facility after they’ve finished running tests. We thought he would go to the same rehab facility that both of my parents have spent time in, which is right next to the hospital and just a few miles from my sister.

But no. Medicaid has managed to screw everything up. Their ‘rules’ about things sometimes drive me up the wall. When my dad was admitted to the hospital, it was coded as ‘under observation.’ For some ridiculous reason, that particular code means my father will now be forced to go to one of two facilities, both of which are about 45 minutes to an hour away from home. Don’t ask me why. My sister works long hours at her job and has a four year old to take care of when she’s not at work. Driving that far will make it impossible for her to see dad more than once – maybe twice – a week. I can’t get down there right now. Needless to say, we’re very frustrated. The rehab facility where we thought he would go would have been perfect for him. Everyone knows him there – their presence would make it all so much easier for him.

• For those of you who have found that Don’s CD is temporarily out-of-stock, hang in there. CD Baby only keeps a small amount on hand because, as you can imagine, they stock CDs for thousands of musicians. We’ll be sending them more today and they should be available shortly. I’ll let you know when they’re back in stock.

Okay. Long post.

Thank you so much for the anniversary wishes yesterday. We loved reading them. You are all wonderful, a true blessing in my life.

Happy Tuesday.

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That Fateful Fourth

Eight Years

Chatty on Tuesday

Lambs Like to Party

A Note

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