A bit of a clown Friday

Adam’s all gaga over his baby he wasn’t there. Well I wasn’t there either. But, we checked the box office at “Humor Abuse” to see if there were tickets. (Tonight’s show was sold out but we have tickets for tomorrow night.) We got to see lots of clowns I know in front of the theatre. Jay Stewart was there in town for the weekend, and Lisa Lewis with her husband (Their kid chose not to accompany her clown parents to someone else’s clown show when there was an opportunity to play with a Wii.) Michael Bongar was there with his wife. There were others I knew. It’s the last weekend of Larry Pisoni’s kid’s solo show about growing up with a clown for a dad.

It was a clown day for me. After I got My Kid successfully to her daily spring break swimming lesson at the Y (notice how I haven’t had any Pilates classes or lap swims this week…), transfered her care and feeding to The Husband who was taking a long childcare related lunch, I got to spend a couple of hours playing in the studio with Kendall and the other clown women. It was good to do. It’s been a while.

Then uptown on the train with My Kid and The Husband, returning him to his office and accompanying my kid to FAO Schwartz for the last afternoon of the last Friday of her Spring Vacation. She spent an hour hanging around the adoptable baby dolls, so I was softened up and let her paint a penguin in the new ceramic painting section of the toy store. I did one too to keep myself from getting bored. I hope I will have the courage to throw it away as I am trying to clear clutter. It was like buying a sandwich to sit in a cafe because your feet hurt even though you aren’t hungry.

After we didn’t get into the play we went and had a lovely end of the week family dinner at Trattorio Spaggetto in the West Village. It’s not the best Italian food in the city, but it’s the best location between a church and a public fountain.

I had hope of going out and talking with clowns tonight (Jef Johnson is also performing this evening) but after wine and heavy food with My Kid and The Husband, I find myself home in the apartment typing up a quick blog entry while My Kid watches some “SpongeBob SquarePants” before the entire weekend becomes about My Kid and the AYSO Spring Soccer Season which begins for our family tomorrow!!!!!!

My very last hour before My Kid’s Christmas Vacation starts…

Last minute things to do

Buy tapes for the video camera

and batteries for toys…

Sparking wine for the Christmas morning mimosas…

Charge the camera and video camera batteries…

Water the tree…

Plan tomorrow mornings food shopping trip–gonna brave the crowds…

Is this room cold or has the blood from my fingers gone to my stomach to digest the cheese and crackers I’ve just eaten.  What if the heat’s gone completely out?   Oh how my mind wanders to holiday disaster scenarios.

I stayed at My Kid’s school past drop-off this morning, long enough to listen to the sing-along.  I am easily distracted from my to do list.  But, it was worth it.

Then I went into the Manhattan to search unsuccessfully for some accessories for a gift already in the pipeline.  What a waste of time.  I didn’t find what I wanted. What a waste of time.  I need to clean.  I need to shop for other things.  I need to shop for food.  So much for tasty treats for My Kids teachers.  Hey cut myself some slack, I organized the class gift.  But, I visualized giving them the dried fruit that they noticed in My Kids lunch…but I didn’t make it to Sahadi’s this week. Oh, well, as class parent I did put effort into organizing the class gift.  Oops I didn’t send any Christmas cards.  Too late now.  The Husband and My Kid are part Japanese, New Years Cards as a concept buys me some more time…  The candy canes finally made it onto the tree last night but the snowflakes and My Kid’s twelve tiny brass angels are still in the box.  Did I water the tree yet today?  

 I’m working on a clown festival application with a deadline of December 31.  Why did I wait so long?  What happened?  It was just Thanksgiving and now tomorrow is Christmas Eve.

My sister’s coming to visit–with her cat…kitty litter…  Does she still drink Diet Coke?  I don’t have any.  I’m such a bad hostess.

Times up! Gotta go pick up my kid so her vacation can begin.

hot shower in the hope of relieving free-floating stress

I just got out of the shower, my second today. I didn’t get to the gym, but I allowed myself a nice hot mid-day shower because I am trying to get a handle on all this free-floating holiday stress. As a class parent I am way too anxious about the amount of money we have collected for teacher holiday gifts. I feel completely guilty because I have not been getting my maybe-she-has-a-cold-maybe-she’s-sick-maybe-she’s-just-tired kid to school on time. We’ve been 15 minutes or more late most days this week AND AS CLASS PARENT I AM SUPPOSED TO BE THE PERSON PEOPLE SEE AT DROP-OFF so they can give me cash for the teachers annual snowflake/snowman/polarbear/penguin secular holiday winter gift. I feel so much anxiety about this that it becomes obvious to me: This tiny task is a stand in for the anxiety I have about the larger economy in general and The Husband’s job in particular; various extended family members in various states of not-quite-OK; me producing a beautiful Christmas spectacular in my living room seven days from now including purchasing every speck of food and drink and toilet paper in advance because the stores are closed on Christmas Day (well maybe not TP the Korean deli will be open); clown work I am not promoting adequately; writing I am not doing; friends I am not seeing; Christmas cards I have completely blown off; how much energy–if any–will I have to devote to coaxing my spouse and offspring to a proper Christmas Eve Mass; when will I ever make it to the laundromat; the safety of Obama and his family; and as always–cleaning the apartment.

So I took a hot shower…

And as I was in the shower, I was remembering when My Kid was a walking baby and at the breastfeeding support group we were going around the circle sharing the ways we relive stress and I said I dragged the baby bouncer into the bathroom, sprinkled some Cherrios on her tray and took a long hot shower. I was very proud that I had a suggestion AT ALL! But, some buzz-kill PC mommy had to remind everyone that we should conserve water. I was chagrinned, embarrassed, guilty. Only in hindsight could I justify my position: “Hey I live in a walk-up, without a dishwasher and I have to cart my laundry (with my baby in a carrier on my back) several blocks in order to do it in a coin-operated public place. We had cars in Seattle but we don’t in Brooklyn. I think my global footprint is small enough to allow me take a hot shower to relieve stress when I am alone with a toddler and even though it seems like mid-day it could be ten hours before The Husband comes home from work!”
Wow!
That was a long time ago. Apparently I didn’t kill my kid. She is a beautiful confident 3rd Grader.
I just wish someone had been there to say “This too shall pass.” I am aware of how fast children grow. Yet…In the grand scheme of things– what future successful private practice medical resident can think beyond laying down to sleep within the next 30-minutes after being awake and working for 36-hours straight? Mommies are not much different.

Aurelia’s Oratorio

The Girls Night Out mommy party I went to last night was a big deal.  It took over two weeks of e-mails to get a group of mothers who were hungry for a more conversation than the hi/bye of school pick-up and drop-off to get together with food and wine but without the spouses and children.

 So it took a little effort to get up and out and to rehearsal way up at the West End Theatre this morning.

Then after the rehearsal for our very minimal show, (Our set is made of cardboard boxes and brown paper.) I got on the subway to go directly to meet The Husband and My Kid in the West Village to see a matinee performance of the meticulously produced “Aurelia’s Oratorio” at NYU’s Skirball Center.

Aurélias Oratorio Production Photo

Photo by Richard Haughton.

Aurélia Thierrée in Aurélia’s Oratorio, written and directed by Victoria Thierrée Chaplin.

She is clown and theatrical royalty, her grandfather was Charlie Chaplin, her great-grandfather was Eugene O’Neill and her parents created “Cirque Imaginaire”  which influenced Cirque du Soleil.  We were lucky to see it as the show only played 3 performances in New York.

Home

I’m home and in bed now.  The Husband and My Kid are both sound asleep.  It was such a fun GNO with the other mommies from My Kid’s school.  I hope I don’t have any trouble getting up in the morning to get to rehearsal on time–And My Kid has a soccer game…

There was wine…

There was lots of food…

We’re still all talking about Obama…

And…

Sarah Palin in front of a turkey exterminator…what the….Sarah Palin at the Wasilla turkey farm

Checking the weekend calendar

Let’s see…

Saturday:
8:00 am AYSO soccer game, Prospect Park Parade Grounds
12:00 pm Brownie Girl Scout field trip to Brooklyn Children’s Museum
2:00 pm rehearsal Theatrelab, 14th Street, Chelsea
5:00 pm Fort Greene Monument lighting ceremony

Sunday:
Mass at 9 am or 11 am or 7 pm (…?…)
11:00 am Rehearsal at some studio in Soho
2:00 pm Guggeheim Family Day, PS 8 event

To Do:
Feed kid 6 meals and 4 snacks
Make kid do homework
Make kid read
Prevent kid from watching too much TV
Clean some part of the apartment
Wash some dishes
Put away some laundry
Read something
Write something
Fill out some forms
Shop for some food

No evening plans, sigh, The Husband is out of town

Will me and My Kid make it everywhere by the time we’re supposed to be there on the subway?

I think I’d better call car service for the soccer game tomorrow morning

Friday 9:00 pm; My Kid is very tired and still eating dinner and nowhere near in bed for the night. (There was a very stimulating Brownie Girl Scout ceremony in Brooklyn Heights this evening.) What are the chances of the next two days going smoothly?

Is it possible to make theatre with children in the room?

That is the question of the current project I’m involved in. A call went put out for actors with children to work on a piece for the Six Figures Theatre Artists of Tomorrow Festival. I signed on with My Kid, even though she has no intention of performing. The director is pregnant and has a 2-year-old. One actress has a 3-year-old and another has a 10-month-old. Everyone at rehearsal, but the musician, has a kid that they bring to rehearsal but the musician. My kid is the oldest, the only one who even knows what is going on. But, she comes willingly because she likes playing with the babies. Sometimes it’s complete chaos more like a playgroup or toddler music class with the 3-year-old running and screaming and the 2-year-old refusing to relinquish the musician’s song sheet and the baby moving around the room followed by her mother who is pinching off bits of banana and placing the food in the baby’s mouth like a mother bird. My Kid adds her own notes to the cacophony.

Women’s Theater Project

Yesterday I received an e-mail, forwarded to me by Kendall Cornell.  The Women’s Theatre project was papering their Off-Broadway house for a play about a clown.  So I went.  It was a much nicer theater than the ones I usually get to play.  The stage was large and the grid was jam-packed with lighting instruments. Most of the primary people involved in the production listed a Yale degree in their bios.  That theatre seemed out of my reach and yet the play was obviously written by someone who is not very old and reminded me of shows we produced at Annex Theatre in Seattle where, incidentally, quite a few company members had gone to or would go on to Yale.

After the play, “Aliens with Extraordinary Skills” by Saviana Stanescu (MFA, NYU); directed by Tea Alagic (MFA, Yale); featuring Natalia Payne (BA, Yale); Set Design by Kris Stone (MFA, Yale); Costumes by Jennifer Moeller (MFA, Yale); Lighting Design by Gina Scherr (MFA, Yale); Music and Sound design by Sarah Pickett (MFA, Yale), I walked alone to the Times Square subway station.

My heart raced, as I looked at the marquees and the after theatre crowd brushed by me with their playbills in their hands.  I was remembering my very first trip to New York.  I took the train from Washington D. C. (where I had an internship in the Women’s Division of the Democratic National Committee when Geraldine Ferrarro was running for Vice President on the Democratic ticket with Walter Mondale) to visit Kathy McNenny, who I knew from home.  She was attending Julliard and living in a room, not much bigger than her mattress, in a very scary building in Hell’s Kitchen across the street from Studio 54.  I was afraid I would be raped every time I got on the elevator.

I saw 6 shows in about 48 hours.  I went with Kathy and her boyfriend to see a play at The Irish Rep because a friend of theirs was in it.  There was a lot of real dirt on the stage.  I saw ” A Chorus Line” because I had always wanted to see it.  I had received the album as a birthday present in grade school and had listened to, memorized, and performed, for my drama class, a deeply felt rendition of “Nothing” (just like all the other high school theater geeks my age).   After “A Chorus Line” I went directly to another theatre to see Whoopi Goldberg’s late night performance, because Kathy told me that was the must see show everyone was talking about.  I was blown away proclaiming that we would soon hear of her in Montana.  “The Color Purple” was in movie theaters the next year.  As soon as I woke up I went directly to the TKTS booth in Times Square to see what I could see.  I wanted to see “Sunday in the Park with George” because I wanted to sing like Bernadette Peters, even though my voice teacher was always telling me not to (apparently I had a lovely voice of my own or some such drivel…)  But, there were no TKTS tickets for “Sunday in the Park with George” so I got a ticket to “Forbidden Broadway” and went and sat on the ground outside the box office of the theatre where “Sunday in the Park with George” was playing and waited with a few other people until curtain time to see if there were any returns.  I blushed with pride when someone in the ticket line, told me I looked like a real New Yorker and not at all like a tourist, sitting there on the ground and scribbling in a notebook, in my dark oversized coat full of pockets.  The woman in the ticket booth told me she had some obstructed view seats but they weren’t worth it because they were way off to the side and you couldn’t see the amazing set come and go.  So I waited until almost 8 o’clock and then ran down the street to use my ticket to “Forbidden Broadway” which I didn’t find funny since I wasn’t familiar with most of the shows and certainly none of the personalities being parodied.  I went to Greenwich Village to see “The Fantastiks” because I adored that musical, having seen a such sweet chamber production of it in Missoula, accompanied by two grand pianos (or one grand piano and a harp–anyway it had been beautiful) and ever after wanted to be a good enough soprano to sing the role of “Luisa”.  I believe I also saw “Le Cage Aux Folles” on Broadway that weekend. (“I Am What I Am” is a favorite song and I harbor a fondness for drag queens.  “Pricilla Queen of the Desert” is one of my favorite films.)  Between the shows I walked around and ate bagels and slices of pizza.  My first bagel in New York was schmeared with an enormous amount of cream cheese and the man behind the counter said something to me that made me think he gave me extra for good luck on my first day in New York.  All the money I had went for theatre tickets.  No restaurant meals, no drinks.  I didn’t even know at that point in my life that I ought to buy food or wine or a gift for my host who I actually never saw after joining her for the one play.  She was so busy with classes and rehearsals.  She told me when she first came to New York she tried to live in Queens (where the rent was lower and the rooms were bigger) but it was just too far away.

If Queens was too far away from Broadway, how very much more difficult must it be to get there from Missoula, Montana.  Although both Kathy McNenny and JK Simmons succeeded.  They represented the only two ways I knew of to get to New York.  JK Simmons didn’t go to New York until after he had his Equity Card.  I knew this because his brother David was a friend of mine and his father was my freshman advisor at the University of Montana.  I also knew that his skills included the ability conduct an entire orchestra!  (He was very nice to me and invited me out for a drinks with the cast after I sent a note backstage, via an usher, letting him know someone from Missoula was in the audience, when I saw the touring production of the short-lived broadway musical “Doonesbury” in which he played a small part and understudied most of the others. –It was during same fall term of my political internship as that first trip to New York.)  The other way to get to New York, as I understood it was to get into a school, scholarship necessary.  Kathy McNenny was able to do this after first attending the University of Montana.  I remember other drama majors, eager to get on with their lives after college, talking about Kathy’s decision to go to Julliard where she would have to pay for another bachelors degree, instead of going to the Globe in San Diego which offered her a full-ride, an MFA and an Equity Card.  But it wasn’t in New York.

 Kathy knew what she was doing and I was not in the same league.  In high school she was a competitive swimmer with a near perfect GPA,  president of the Thespian Society, in the select show choir and involved in many other organizations that involved having her photo in the high school year book.  She taught swimming lessons and visited schools as Captain Power for the local utility, possibly the only paying costumed character gig in the entire region.  When she was a senior and I was a junior, she played the title role in our high school production of “The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie”.  I played one of her pupils who grew from child to adult under her tutelage.  I was the only actress who did not have to bind for the first scene and had to stuff my bra for the last scene.  That pretty much says it all.

If you’re blogging about process and there’s not a performance involved you should shoot yourself

Tonight nothing is more important than electing Barack Obama president in November.

However,
My current task is to present a clown piece on September 11 (leaving plenty of time before November to work for Barack Obama.)
My head now is filled with the momentous Obama speech…
“In the words of scripture hold firmly to the hope that we confess” Don’t know what that means but it sounds pretty.”
And I’m thinking of using a Billie Holiday song….
So
Today has not been particularly productive.
There was a nice e-mail in the morning from Lorraine about playing and being on the same page.
My kid got up late and was cranky when she did.
I said “Hey it’s almost lunch time” and “Do you want to go to zoo?”
She cried.
She didn’t have any words so I assumed existential angst about the end of summer and start of the school year.
So I felt guilty.
We made scrambled eggs together using two pans, the regular one and her tiny single serving one.
Catsup.
We made art with a new set of stamps.
We played Junior Scrabble.
We went swimming at the Y (though we weren’t there earlier in the afternoon when Michael Phelps was!)
We hooked up with The Husband/Daddy
We went out for Thai food.
We were late getting home and missed part of Obama’s speech.
Tears during what I did see.
After the speech–It’s so shocking as the parent of an 8-year-old to see how much Malia Obama (just tuned 10 in July) has grown since he first declared in 2007. He started the campaign with two little girls and now he has only one little girl and one tween!
The CNN silence after the speech cameras finding shots of streamers hanging by a thread.

actors nightmare

I was anxious to get to the theatre.  I was running late because I had to wait for someone to show up to watch My Kid.  The dressing area was hot and crowded.  My parents were on hand for this important performance.  We thought we had time to grab something to eat before the performance.  The Thai food took a long time and I didn’t have a watch on.  When I got backstage everyone else was in full costume and the show was in progress.  How soon till my scene.  No time to warm up or clear my head.  The others were lining up on the stairs waiting for the curtain call.  I had missed the entire show.

It was a actors nightmare, so clear and real that I was genuinely relieved when I woke up in a panic and realized I was at home in my own bed.