Vacationed in New Orleans the first week of June ’14. Loved it. Want to move there some day.
In the meantime, I took copious pix which have been uploaded into two galleries (right-hand nav). Pix are typical vaca pix; things that I thought were interesting; tattoo process shots; cats of NOLA; and lots of food porn. Skip what’s uninteresting; enjoy that which is.
k.
One would think, leaving NYC after 21 years and moving back to the area where I grew up, Reading, PA, that I would indeed feel a sense of failure. Oddly, I don’t. Instead, I feel something that feels more like completion.
No, I’m not saying, “I’m home, dig a hole and throw me in; life it over.” Not that kind of completion; not an ending. Rather, more a sense that the adventure that I was on is now over and there is a new adventure to experience.
Lord knows, in my years in NY, I did more, experienced more, than I would have ever imagined, growing up outside of Reading as I did. It has been an amazing ride: wonderful people, amazing places; a fantastic ride.
Recently I uploaded a list of what I’ve been doing theatrically since 1974, here’s the link. It was wonderful to look back over the years to where I’ve been, where I came from.
And now, on to the next adventure. It’s very exciting. At the moment, it’s also very wacky; living in my childhood bedroom in my parent’s home. I’m here alone, as Jamie is finishing up his job in NY – he was “job eliminated”. He’ll be here next week. I’m going up to haul him and the cats and some luggage and, perhaps, a friend’s daughter home to PA.
We, Jamie & I, not our friend’s daughter, she’ll be staying with her parents, are staying with my parents until our place in NYC sells. Hopefully that will be soon; it’s a really wonderful co-op apartment in a great building. We put a lot of work into it. I’m especially sad to give up my fabulous kitchen that we designed and built, but hey, now we can do it all over again…
And, should you be in the market for an apartment in NYC, here’s a lovely one. I’m sure you’d be happy there, I know we were.
So it’s time to move on to the next adventure. That’s what the falling dominoes of the last six months or so are saying anyway.
k.
Sphere: Related ContentOne universally consistent complaint about the iPhone is that it is not possible to cut and paste. Since I now tend to compose all my posts on my phone, this, given my feeble powers of memory, poses serious limitations on my inclusion of annotative links. I simply can’t remember extended URLs long enough to add them in.
That being said, Prop. (Well, it wasn’t an incredibly long URL.) Something that supports, the act of supporting, a physical, usually but not always, handheld item used on stage by an actor, and carrying the idea of “support” to its modern vernacular conversion, in the plural, “respect”.
Pshew.
So, the other day, I was called into duty raiding another theatre’s prop rooms. Raiding is, perhaps, the wrong terminology. “Borrowing from” is more correct, however, like long-time neighbors borrowing one another’s tools or garden implements, these “borrowings”, more often than not, are for a term longer than the item’s intended use.
Anyway, we filled a rowboat to the brim with small stools, think milkmaid, and rolled it (yes, it rolls) from one theatre’s warehouse across the street to our theatre. It’s nice that these two spaces are just across and down the street form one another: One, the sheer convenience is a joy, and: Two, the rolling rowboat doesn’t roll all that well.
On our short journey, we passed some local derelicts who offered, albeit in a somewhat slurred and incoherent fashion, stool-toting, boat-rolling tips. None of these were particularly helpful; the tip nor the derelicts.
And here I am, days later, on stage surrounded by our booty. Plus more acquired in the ensuing days.
Props: support; gratitude. Two sides, one coin.
I do love all the folks I’m working with and those who have made my participation in this project possible.
This was written piecemeal over a number of days. It might not make sense to you, but it makes sense to me. And now this has been brewing too long to not post immediately without further delay.
k.
Sphere: Related ContentOr rather, “The” Bieber, as it is known to us locals and former locals. It’s the only bus line that goes directly between NYC and Reading, PA, where I grew up, Where my parents still live (well, In nearby West Lawn). Where I’m heading now. Quite frequently. Every weekend. I’m doing a show, Sweeney Todd, at the theatre where I grew up. Genesius Theater.
This theatre saved my life – more ’bout that in another post.
So, after an absense of nearly thirty years, I’m back on the old stage that made me into who I am today. Or rather, I will be back, once this 3 hour bus ride is over. Every week now for the last month. Up and down.
What we do for love? We do this.
And now, I’ve taxed my thumbs and iPhone enough for one day.
See you soon.
k.
And that.
Since it’s been so damned long since I last wrote, as Nath constantly reminds me, some random thoughts that have been running through my mind. In no particular order, with no particular relevance, rhyme or reason.
It was a great evening. A number of folks who I worked with, oh, 30ish years ago, were in the cast, some reviving their old roles (Genesius did the show in 1977; found these slides in my collection. Yeah, slides, kinda like visual 8 tracks) and some doing the show for the first time. Joining the “old hands” were a good number of new Genesians who were equally fun to watch. Quibbles with the production, of course, it’s me, the king of curmudgeons, but still, wonderful to see.
So scanned I was (I seem to have momentarily channelled Yoda), duly pricked, hooked up to machines, drained of blood, and what was discovered? I have a great heart, great lungs and seemingly, no lurking clots. In other words, no answer to what was causing the original symptoms, but the fear of my heart exploding is no longer hanging over my head. So, I guess, in the end, it is a virus, still a bit with me, as I’m still having occasional dizzy spells, but they are abating with each passing day.
Damn, the Sunday morning talking heads are on and I’m being distracted. More later, after the heads and a trip to the grocery store. Whoo Hoo! Do we know how to do holiday weekend, or what?! LOL
k.
Sphere: Related ContentTo Jamie and I.
8 years. Who would have thought it possible; I certainly never thought it would happen.
Funny what happens in your life when you stop looking for something to happen.
Tonight, dinner at Rene Pujol. It will be wonderful. And then, who knows.
Revisit the start of it all on Jamie’s site.
Happy day! I love my husband.
There are those in the gay community who poo-poo the whole idea, saying that we should not mirror the straight community. I say, “Fuck ’em.” I’ve never been too keen on the whole “community identification superceding my own humanity” thing. And I’d write more on that, but I’m at work and need to get back to it. So I’ll just say again, as the late, great Bob B. did, “That’s what makes the phone book.”
And now, back to work,
k.
Happy New Year!
I’ve previously mentioned the Christmas Eve bayberry mojo.
And now, here is the New Year’s Eve mojo tradition. A quick internet check shows nothing about my family’s traditional NY Eve mojo. My guess is that it is a mix of PA Dutch and Scottish tradition, or just something that got started long ago by no specific ethnicity and just got handed down until its precise origins were lost.
At any rate, my family’s tradition: in a small bag – I use a sandwich bag because that’s what my parents used, probably something nicer like a cloth bag would be looked on kindly by the gods, or maybe the humble nature of the sandwich bag is some kind of positive statement in and of itself – one per each member of the household – no “one bag is good enough for all” stuff here, everyone must have their own – place:
Why is the flour wrapped in paper? So it doesn’t get all messy in the bag, silly. My family’s traditional flour wrap has been a piece of paper towel, again, not particularly pretty, but humble and certainly serviceable.
Once these items are gathered in the bag, it is hung on the front door of your house (or apartment) to welcome in the New Year’s s(S)pirit. This is to be done on New Year’s Eve and must hang there until the morning of New Year’s Day.
And, like the bayberry candle that burns though Christmas Eve into Christmas Day, I understand that this is superstition. But neither the candle nor the NYE bag has let me down thus far and so, I’ll repeat, I’m not messin’ with the mojo.
And they pile on, I have acquiesced, adopted and even grown used to, Jamie’s family’s, “the Christmas tree must be taken down before New Year’s Day”, and he’s happy to have our ratty New Year’s bags hanging on the doorknob for the neighbors to wonder about.
I guess life is so dramatically random that even in this “advanced” modern age, sometimes it feels good and necessary to fall back on a little tradition, a little “magic”.
Have a safe and happy New Year!
k.
You see George, you really did have a wonderful life.
I think often, we forget how really wonderful life is, I know I do from time to time. I get caught up in the minutiae of the daily grind and forget what is truly important, truly wonderful: the magic of being alive. It really is a gift. To throw out another appropriate movie quote, Life is a banquet and most poor suckers are starving to death.
Drink in life. Eat up every last morsel. Savour every last moment. Life is too glorious not to.
So catching up. Thanksgiving was odd, but lovely. Jamie, as I mentioned in the last post was sick. He got up long enough to enjoy our dinner, or enjoy it as much as someone without a sense of smell due to clogged sinuses is able.
That weekend, our friends John and Karen came in from London for a week’s visit. We kicked it off by going to Peter Luger’s Steakhouse, a fav of ours. Luckily, Jamie’s ick had subsided enough for him to enjoy the evening and taste the food.
Then later that week, on Thursday, J & I went to the 75th Anniversary Radio City Music Hall Christmas Spectacular. And it was. Spectacular.
We go every year. We love it. We love the over-the-top wackiness of it. We love the live camels on stage and the hokey holiday–ness of it all. But this year, being the 75th Anniversary, it was even better than usual. It was all about the Rockettes, who are indeed, always “featured”, but this year they were truly the stars of the show. They even got their own holiday souvenir martini glass
filled with, of course, the Rockettini, which was basically a slushie with really high proof rum poured over it.
All during that week after Thanksgiving, along with show-going and friend-greeting, we were getting ready for our first (annual) holiday party. Lots of food, liquor and mixers bought. Some food prepped here. And that Saturday, 12/1, from 5 ’til, well, I’m told that it went on until about 1:30AM, a grand time was had by all.
We spread it out over such a long period as:
It all worked out beautifully. Except, of course, for my being done in by a nasty drink introduced to the party by our friend Suzanne. She had recently edited a drink book and this, unfortunately stuck in her mind; I certainly will never forget it. It is a wicked little concoction called a Duck Fart. And it does smell, not that I’ve actually ever had the pleasure, but I imagine it would be similar, like a duck fart.
It, however, is really tasty. It is layered in equal parts of Kahlua, Bailey’s and Jack Daniel’s. It goes down smooth and hits hard. And so, I ended about an hour or so before the party did. Ah well, a good time was had by all.
In the following two weeks, I had the joy of going through a colonoscopy and an endoscopy. A little holiday treat, that. My last physical turned up a bit of anemia and we’re trying to figure out what’s up with that. Nothing showed up in either of those tests, so we’re on to more. I get the next round of results after the holidays – easy tests, just blood-work. Somewhat ironic that they needed to take four vials of blood to see what’s up with my anemia…
As my reward for going through rather unpleasantly invasive tests, I gave myself the gift of theatre. Jamie & I went to PA to the theatre I grew up in, Genesius, to see “The Belsnickel Scrooge”, a PA Dutch take on “A Christmas Carol.” We loved it. It is so amazing to be reconnected with that theatre.
While in PA, we celebrated Christmas with my folks and our dear extended family members, Sue and Liz. We don’t get to see either my parents or S&L often enough.
Oops, forgot, on the weekend between my c’scopy and my e’scopy, we went to visit Jamie’s Mom in FL for her birthday. We had a great time visiting with her and Jamie’s sister, nephew and his new girlfriend. It was nice to get away from NYC for a bit, although I couldn’t wait to get back to the more seasonal weather. FL is nice, but give me seasons. I don’t care how many decorations you see, if it’s 80 degrees, it just doesn’t feel like Christmastime. This is, of course, coming from a confirmed Northerner, however, Jamie feels the same way and he spent most of his life in FL.
Anyway, that brings us up to the week past, which was filled with Christmas hubbub and such, including a wonderful holiday concert on Saturday featuring Karen Mason, an amazing singer and a lovely person. I worked with her years ago on “And the World Goes ‘Round: The Songs of Kander and Ebb”, back in the day when I was doing backstage stuff. She has such amazing control of her voice and such an amazing energy. She’s just, well, amazing.
She was briefly joined by Greg Edelman, Liz Calloway, and The Accidentals (a tight jazz acapella group) – all were great.
Oh and before the concert, we went to see Sweeney Todd, the film, not the theatre piece. It was magically delicious, go see it.
And that brings us to tonight, Christmas Eve.
We went to NJ to our Godson’s for the evening. Met the little fella and his mom at the train station – he loves trains – then headed to the 4 o’clock Children’s service at their church. Very nice service; Jamie & I both forgot how much we like the practice of going. We’ve decided to check out our local church soon. We both miss the brilliant eucharist at our old church, unfortunately, the emotional/spiritual toll of that place was too high so, the search continues.
After church, we went to their house and met up with the G’son’s dad and sister, Aunt and friends and we all shared a delicious dinner.
Then back to the city in time for me to light my bayberry candle. All these superstitions… I don’t know if it’s a PA Dutch thing or where it came from, but it is tradition in my family to light a bayberry candle on Christmas Eve and let it burn through the night into Christmas day – it must burn completely away. It’s said to be good luck, and like Jamie with his “the tree must come down on New Year’s Eve”, I ain’t messin’ with the mojo.
So here I sit writing, now officially Christmas day, while Jamie sleeps, dreaming of the early morning present opening to come.
So many opportunities we’re given. So many wonderful things to do and see and experience; just look back over just my last four weeks.
It really is a wonderful life.
And now, now that the candle has reached a point of safety, meaning, as it burns merrily in the sink, if it falls, it’s short enough to pose no danger of toppling out onto the floor, but rather just rolling around in the sink, I can guiltlessly go to bed. Jamie is very, very, nervous about the candle. Very. But it’s safe now, and I’m tired, and he’s going to get me up at first light for Christmas morning present-opening, so in the Christmas spirit I say,
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.
k.
Are tedious. I learned this last night. Last night, as I was peeling them for the stuffing that is at this very moment in the oven inside our turkey.
Jamie has written about our Thanksgiving dinner. Although somewhat smugly. Ahem…
Indeed, I have been loathe to go against the food experts and cook my stuffing inside my turkey. The recipe we’re using, however, makes it easy to cook it inside the turkey, to maximize the flavor, and yet easily remove said stuffing for continued cooking to temperature after the bird is removed. Indeed, compromise.
I don’t know about the green bean casserole happening today. I’ve been doing all the cooking this year, as Jamie has come down with one whopper of a cold and has been laid out since yesterday. I’m hoping against hope that I’m not visited by the same bug. Fingers crossed.
But yes, the chestnuts. I’ve never peeled chestnuts. Everything I read, pre-peeling, seemed to indicate that it was indeed a laborious, hit-or-miss kind of thing with, very often, crumbled, rather than nice, whole, nut meats.
I decided to try the 1896 recipe that I found on About.com. It worked beautifully. No crumbled nuts.
It’s still not easy though, prying the shells off the suckers; imagine hot splinters shoved under your fingernails over and over and over again and you’ll get the gist. My thumbs are achin’.
I’m sure the chestnuts will be delicious in the stuffing. I’ll enjoy it immensely and keep it as a fond memory as I’ve no intention of ever peeling chestnuts again.
The cranberry salad. This is an anticipated treat in my family usually prepared by my Aunt Marcia, and since she’s not here to prepare it for us… While I’m not at liberty to share the recipe, I can assure you, and Jamie, that there are no oysters or chives to be found. It’s delicious. It better be ’cause I did make a hell of a lot of it, although not the 18 pounds Jamie has indicated. By the time we finish it up though, it might just seem that way.
So last night, after I finished mutilating my thumbs, I took a needed break from the kitchen and headed outside.
Oh it was lovely. It was about 11PM. It was misty, very misty, with the light of the street lamps diffused in a beautifully cinematic way. I headed down our block to a little garden area notable only as it offers a break between buildings and an unobstructed view out over the park.
And there I stood looking out into the night sky. Alone with my thoughts. And it was one of those beautiful nights, so quiet, full of anticipation, “holiday nights”; everyone is inside preparing or sleeping, dreaming of tomorrow.
And then it rained. But not rain. I was standing under a wonderful old tree whose leaves had all gone yellow. A lifetime ago, I’d have been able to tell you what kind of tree it is, but it’s one of the many things that I’ve forgotten over the years; funny how that goes. At any rate, there I was, in that gauzy mist-light in an amazing drizzle of yellow leaves. I must have stood there a good 10 minutes marveling at it all, the leaves gently falling all around me.
I love magical moments like that. That’s what is brilliant about life; you never know when those kind of things will happen. You just have to stop and be amazed when they do.
And then I went back inside and continued cooking… until about 2AM. Whatever, I’m a late-night person. Always have been. I’ve been totally acting against my nature with my current job that requires me to get up at 6AM; I can do it, but really I’m not meant to, and by the end of the week, I’m worn out from it. But I digress…
So today, I’ve been taking it slow; Jamie’s still feeling like crap, though less so than yesterday. We were going to put off Thanksgiving until tomorrow but I didn’t want the turkey to sit in the brine that long. So I’ve meandered in the kitchen today, really all that was left to cook was the pumpkin cheesecake – had batter left over, made cupcakes, yummy! – and finishing off the stuffing for the turkey. Everything else was done last night.
Except for the imported, organic green bean casserole (see Jamie’s piece for that one). We’ll make that tomorrow.
For now, the comforting aroma of roasted turkey wafts enticingly ’round the house. It’s almost time to pop the sucker out of the oven to rest while its companion dishes fill the oven void to warm up to dinner temperature.
And on that note, it’s time to baste!
Happy Thanksgiving!
k.
I’ve decided to devote the text widget, that space with the unfrequently updated “Semi-daily thought/quote”, to a higher purpose.
I’ve decided to act upon one of Jamie’s previous posts, “100 words that every High School senior – and their parents – should know”
So every day for the next 100 days (hopefully), I’ll update that little widget with a new word on the list.
We find fun where we can. 😉
For the complete list, go to: 100 Words
Today’s word (and as it’s 11:30PM, tomorrow’s as well) is: Abjure.
Nite,
k.
**UPDATE** I seem to have broken my widget. It won’t upload today’s word. Project on hold for the time being. Damn.
k.
**2nd UPDATE** Seems to be working again. Welcome to “abrogate”.
k.
