teeny toads

Teenier toad
Originally uploaded by Specklet.

There are tiny toads like this one in our yard. They hop along, pretending to be beetles, while I go to get the mail. So bitty and so hopeful. They remind me of buds on trees; impossible and full of possibility.

Per was laid off. We went to the lake. He had 2 promising interviews for a new job and now... we wait. And wait. And file for unemployment. And stay in the house with our toys so we don't spend money (there are several Lego Houses under construction in the living room). And look for tiny toads.

I'm bringing in money wherever I can in a slowish summer in a bad economy. I'm planning my curriculum for YPC classes. I'm rehearsing a Fringe show. I'm auditioning for things that I'm too young/old for. I'm thinking about Rachel Corrie all the time without actually memorizing it.

And looking for tiny toads and the impossible possibilities they hold.

the moon and you

I'm weary. But hopeful.

I got two rejections today that really hurt. But I used the Neti-pot and it worked.

I had a long weepy talk with my husband about the unfairness of adulthood and the complicated nature of partnership. But I bought a moonflower plant.

It is a strange plant. The blossoms are too big for their delicate vine. They open at night. But the flower is large, unfurls under the moonlight and smells familiar and magical at the same time.

The moon and you appear to be so near and yet so far from me.

microgirardini

I bought this at the Walker. It's a tomato plant that will grow out of a can. I also bought a basil plant. I kinda don't believe it. Seems like magic to me. Good job MicroGiardini.

I'm hoping the next few months will mimic the magic of the plant growing from a tin can.

birthday surprise #4

Rather than helping herself to the water in your glass like a normal cat, Lily, the sweet stupid fat cat, pulls the whole glass over and attempts to lick the spilled water up. She's an idiot. Yesterday morning she was so desperate for food, water or attention that she knocked over the empty wine glass sitting on my bedside table. It shattered, sending thin shards of glass all over the floor and bed. I yelled at her, gathered the pieces and, while carrying them to the recycling bin, glimpsed a brown paper package with a giant IV scrawled across its front. A box set of field recordings captured by Art Rosenbaum.

I love my husband.

Birthday dinner tonight with the family at Spoonriver. I am a very special girl this week.

birthday surprise #3

Delphinium
Originally uploaded by Clockworks.

Got to rehearsal today and a towering bouquet of purple delphinium were waiting for me.

I love my husband.

birthday surprise #2

In my car yesterday morning was an Alice-in-Wonderland-like note sticking out of my stereo: "Play me". What played was Elizabeth Cotten. 

Libba taught herself to play her brother's banjo at age 7. At 11 she bought herself a guitar and played it left-handed and upside-down, developing her own style, playing the bass with her fingers and the melody with her fingers, later called Cotten Picking. She wrote Freight Train around that time. After a 25 year hiatus from playing, the Seeger family caught her playing one of their guitars and coaxed her into recording studios and eventually onto the stage. She won a Grammy at age 90. 

I love her and I love her story. And I love my husband.

i'm turning 28 on sunday...

birthday kissy face
Originally uploaded by eag.

... but my birthday celebration has already begun.

After a long, full, frustrating and exhilarating day in the mind of Louis de Roguemont I packed up my headache and headed home. I called Per, as always:

What'd you do with your evening?
Nuthin. Watched House.
That sounds nice.
I'm gonna hang up. I'm putting clothes away.

Headache. Stomachache. Third week of rehearsal self-hatred. Driveway. Front door. Candles?

Per is a big fat lying liar. He'd spent the night cleaning up the disastrous renovation mess and preparing a birthday surprise for me. He handed me a glass of wine, took me out to the porch and danced me around under the moon to the dulcet tones of Johnny Hartman.

Apparently this is only the beginning of my birthday surprises.

I love my husband.

It's alright to be jealous. I don't mind.