About these ads

Category Archives: work

Death by Chocolate (not a euphemism)

One more weekend of the play and we’re all done! I am ready for some relaxing so I’m glad to see it go, although I’m very proud of it so will be sad for it to end. CONFLICTED I AM CONFLICTED. But not all that conflicted, mostly because it means my weekends are (mostly) my own again.

AND AND AND! A week from tomorrow – so EIGHT DAYS FROM TODAY – is TOTALLY Andreas-day! He will actually be here much earlier in the week doing work-things, but I will get to meet him on Saturday. I’m seriously so excited I can barely sit still. BOUNCING AND BOUNCING. Tonight Dad said, “You might be a little keyed up about that.” I MIGHT JUST BE! JUST A LITTLE BIT! (“Keyed up” is a Dad-ism. It’s a step above excited and just a weeeee bit below manic. Dad disapproves heartily of being keyed up. He thinks people should always be calm, cool and collected. Or at least they should PRETEND to be; otherwise, it is unseemly. Dad thinks we should always be seemly. OTHER people are unseemly. WE are SEEMLY. (I constantly let him down by having EMOTIONS and FEELINGS which are not RATIONAL ZOMG!!!)

I'm fairly sure Dad would find Grover unseemly. I am very much LIKE Grover, however.

I’m fairly sure Dad would find Grover unseemly. I am very much LIKE Grover, however. THIS IS HOW EXCITED I AM.

I have an important work story called: I Am Practical.

My boss (who sits kind of across from me and behind a counter with some printers on it) was VERY EXCITED today because someone left her a candy bar on her desk while she was at lunch. So she totally ate that candy bar. Then she was all, “I wonder who left me that candy bar! I would like to thank them.” So she started calling people randomly to see if they were the chocolate-gifter but no one fessed up to it.

SUSPICIOUS.

SUSPICIOUS.

I sat there kind of horrified because I was pretty sure she was doing that in the wrong order. Aren’t you supposed to FIRST find out where your gift chocolate came from, THEN eat it? It was like Halloween, only MUCH MORE DISTRESSING.

So she said, in a musing tone, “I wish I knew who gave me this. Ooh, it could have been John.” (She didn’t say John, I don’t remember who she said, someone we work with. There are a billion people there and I only know like three of their names. I’m really terrible with names.)

So of course I said, “Or maybe a killer.” I mean, what else are you going to say, other than the truth?

Think about it. Wouldn’t this be the best way to kill someone? You poison a candy bar and then cunningly wrap it back up and place it on someone’s desk. And probably they’d eat it. Most people would think, aw! A thoughtful and delicious gift!

NOT ME, SUCKERS. I WOULD NOT EAT YOUR SUSPICIOUS GIFT-CANDY. YOU’RE NOT GETTING ME THAT EASILY!!!

My boss said, “What? Amy? What?” and I said again, “A killer. A killer probably left that, N.”

This made her laugh and laugh. Then she kept saying, “Amy thinks it was a KILLER that left me that chocolate!”

Listen, I’m just practical, here. I’m just looking out for my boss, who is also a wonderful person and my friend and I like her lots AND much. You don’t just eat gift chocolate. That could be the last thing you eat, you don’t know. YOU HAVE TO BE CAREFUL ABOUT FOOD THAT APPEARS WITHOUT WARNING. Did we learn nothing from Snow White? Ok, fine, so that apple didn’t appear out of NOWHERE, a seemingly benign little old woman gave it to her, but STILL, that put her in a glass coffin where people STARED at her for like EVER and then some man KISSED her without even her SAY-SO. I mean, is that the path that my boss wants to go down? Is it really?

Bad move, Snow. BAD MOVE.

Bad move, Snow. BAD MOVE.

I had to drop some files off with her before I left for the day and I told her she looked peaked and then I touched her arm and said, “Yep. Definitely feverish. First sign of mystery chocolate poisoning” and shook my head sadly. She laughed the most. I told her I was just keepin’ it real, yo.

I am a very good coworker, as you can see. Very practical. Lookin’ out for ma peeps.

(No, she never found out who gave her the mystery chocolate. I know. It’s distressing.)

AND, this week, we announced (FINALLY!) our 2013-2014 season at the theater, hooray!

We are doing:

  • Big Maggie by John B. Keane, which is an Irish dramedy about a woman whose cheating husband has just passed away, so she decides to lay down the law with her children, who she thinks are going down the wrong path. It’s dark and a little twisted and the director is one of our best local directors and it will be wonderful. I’m really looking forward to it.
  • ‘night, Mother by Marsha Norman, one of my favorite plays of all time (cue the daughter of one of my friends who always says, “AMY! All you like are REALLY DARK THINGS!” She’s not wrong) directed by my friend N., who loves it as much as I do, so I know he’s going to knock it out of the park. You know ‘night, Mother, right? If you don’t, I’m not going to spoil it for you, as much as I’d like to. It’d be a totally asshole thing to do. It’s just that good. In brief, and non-spoilery: the play opens with Jessie telling her mother, who is also her roommate, because Jessie’s life has kind of imploded, as lives go, that she has decided she is going to kill herself. Jessie’s mom, of course, doesn’t believe her. Over the course of the play, Jessie explains: no. She is very serious. Her life is terrible, she has nothing left, and she’s made all the necessary plans. This is the night, she has the gun. This is it. Her mother’s job is to attempt to talk her out of it. Yes. I love dark things. Love them. And this play has been one of my favorites since college. Mainly because it clearly and honestly represents depression. It’s the one play this season I am most excited about; I’ve wanted to see it onstage again for almost twenty years now. I’m so very excited it was chosen, and with N. directing it.

    Here is a very young Kathy Bates in "'night, Mother" on Broadway. IT IS SO GOOD YOU GUYS. Also there's a movie, with Sissy Spacek, if you like that kind of thing.

    Here is a very young Kathy Bates in “‘night, Mother” on Broadway. IT IS SO GOOD YOU GUYS. Also there’s a movie, with Sissy Spacek, if you like that kind of thing.

  • Boeing Boeing by Marc Camoletti, which is a silly French farce where a man thinks it is a very good idea to have THREE GIRLFRIENDS who are ALL FLIGHT ATTENDANTS and since they’re always in and out at different times, they don’t know about each other so HE WINS GIRLFRIENDING. Well, if you guess “they all happen to have layovers at the same time” as to what happens in this play YOU WIN GUESSING FRENCH FARCES. People will love this; it will do very well; we need to have at least one comedy because this is a very dark season (which, as mentioned, I love.) Friend A. is directing this one and he is wonderful and has such a good eye for things. It will be great.
  • All My Sons by Arthur Miller. WE ARE DOING AN ARTHUR MILLER PLAY. I know. That totally needs a ZOMG, right? Surprisingly, I hadn’t read this play before the committee this year and it’s important, beautifully-written and heavy and sobering; it’s wonderful theater, and one of our OTHER best local directors is directing this one, so it’s going to be amazing.

I’m really proud of the season, and proud of the work we did choosing it. I’ve got some more theater news coming up soon, probably in a few days, but we’ll talk about that when it comes. Also some OTHER exciting news, but that’ll come when it comes. No point jumping the gun. You’ll just get shot, who needs that shit? If you go to the ER, they have to report that to the cops. ALL GUNSHOTS GET REPORTED TO THE COPS. Don’t you watch Law and Order?

Have a happy weekend, all good boys and girls. Also, all bad boys and girls, I’m not picky about your goodness. You be as good or bad as you want, just don’t get arrested, I don’t have bail in my back pocket, yo.

About these ads

If you’re going to buy and sell me, you’re in for more trouble than I’m worth.

The weekend is over! Things happened this weekend. THINGS. Here are some things:

  • Opening night happened, a night later due to the blizzard. The blizzard, oddly, had a name. The name of the blizzard was Nemo. When did we start naming blizzards? Is this a thing we always did? If so, why was I not made aware of it? Also, isn’t Nemo an odd name for a storm? NEMO IS AN ADORABLE CARTOON FISH. Not a blizzard. (Also, the blizzard was more bark than bite. Did it snow? Yes. But not as much as they said it would. I think we ended up with maybe 6-8″? Tops? THAT’S WHAT SHE SAID. It made for a messy drive, and I got exhausted cleaning off the car, but otherwise, eh.)
  • That was too long to stay all one bullet point. ANYWAY, opening night happened. It went beautifully. The cast was spot-on, the lights and sound went off without a hitch (she says humbly, at least from the sound point of view) and the minute the cast came out for their bow, the audience gave them a huge standing ovation. I was so proud of the cast, and of friend A., who directed the hell out of that show. Then we had a champagne reception and everyone was so happy and complimentary, and I stayed up super-late and the review came out (not from the paper I review for, but for the other paper) and it was SO SO GOOD. You can totally read it. You don’t even have to pay to read this one. I think that’s because the Times Union has more money than my paper, I don’t even know. I was so excited to see this I texted friend A. in ALL-CAPS. ALL-CAPS TEXTING!!!
  • So after the show I stayed up way too late because there was a new Saturday Night Live but I might as well not have because both the host AND the musical guest was Justin Bieber and I JUST DO NOT UNDERSTAND THE BIEBS. What is the appeal of this boy? Really? He’s not overly talented. I mean, he seems nice enough, but he’s just a kid with a pleasant, vaguely-female face. And he wasn’t even all that funny. Mostly he just kept looking vacantly around during the skits. I think he was trying hard, but it wasn’t really hard enough. But teen girls are INSANE about this kid. I just don’t get it. I just don’t. I guess I am too old?
  • Then I went to bed and at first I could not fall asleep because I was way overtired but guess what happened? I SLEPT FOR EIGHT STRAIGHT HOURS. I didn’t even wake up once. I woke up in the same position where I crashed out. Like I was a dead person. I woke up and looked at the clock and went OH HOLY HELL. It felt AMAZING. Then sj told me I’d really slept for 5 years, not 8 hours, and be careful when I went outside, because there were flying cars now. That made me laugh and laugh.
  • Then we had our matinee, which also went very well. And then I went out and bought a burrito for dinner as a treat and now I am watching The Walking Dead and then I will go to bed and attempt to get close to 8 hours of sleep AGAIN tonight, and won’t that be grand? Yes. Yes, it will.

    ZOMG, there is a badass Daryl Dixon meme. I approve. I HAVE MISSED YOU MY WONDERFUL DARYL!

    ZOMG, there is a badass Daryl Dixon meme. I approve. I HAVE MISSED YOU MY WONDERFUL DARYL!

  • Oh, at work on Saturday, at the answering service, some woman called all up-in-arms that her apartment complex hadn’t cleared her parking lot. I explained that we couldn’t page maintenance for that, because – per the apartment complex, in their OWN WORDS – “the clearing of snow is not an emergency that maintenance needs to be paged for.” She went BALLISTIC. “Do you know how much money I pay for this apartment? Do you know how much money I have in the bank? I COULD BUY AND SELL YOU. You are REQUIRED to call maintenance if I tell you to. YOU ARE MY EMPLOYEE. You are FORCING me to LIVE IN MY CAR. You will LISTEN TO ME WHEN I TALK. Don’t you DARE speak when you’re being spoken to.” Yep. This is the kind of thing I get at work, yo. I ended up hanging up on her after just repeating to her over and over I couldn’t help her per her complex and she’d have to take her complaints up with them when they opened again on Monday. “YOU WILL BE FIRED FOR THIS!” she screamed. Well, maybe, I don’t know. But probably not. I mean, it’s not OFTEN people are fired for following the rules of their jobs? But maybe. So I just told her “I’m sorry, there’s nothing more I can do for you, and this is fruitless for both of us, so I’m going to hang up now. I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more assistance.” She was still screaming when I hung up. Happy, happy, joy, joy. (SIDE NOTE: I pay half of what she does for the place that I live, but my maintenance people were clearing my lot when I woke up on Saturday. The whole lot was almost completely clear when I left. So I guess all the money in the world can’t buy you a parking spot, Lady McRicherson. Hope you liked sleeping in your Caddy. I know I enjoyed sleeping in my nice warm bed. Also, have fun buying and selling me; I don’t think you’ll make much. I’ve been used and abused, and most of my internal organs are either missing, just don’t work, or are completely broken and I don’t think are going to bounce back, so I can’t be worth more than about $1.27.)
  • Also, I bought a ticket to go see Stephen Sondheim talk at one of our local colleges in May. I AM GOING TO BE IN THE SAME ROOM AS STEPHEN SONDHEIM. I’m kind of hyperventilating about this right now. STEPHEN EFFING SONDHEIM YOU GUYS.

Tomorrow and Tuesday I’ll be at the theater again – we have auditions for our next show – and then I actually get to come HOME on Wednesday and Thursday! Well, I have to go grocery shopping one of those nights, and laundry the other night, but after that, HOME HOME HOME! It’s gotten to the point that when I come home, Dumbcat goes into a fury of happy. MOM MOM MOM YOU ARE HOME MOM! he says in his cheerful furry way, and then follows me around like a puppy, making chirpy meows like a bird-cat. Then if I actually get two seconds to sit on the couch, he curls up to my leg as if it is the best thing ever and purrs SO SO HARD. Also, earlier today he sneezed in my face. I think that might be the grossest. Why would your cat do that to you? MEAN.

This was supposed to be a music blog, wasn’t it? I was totally planning on posting about a music thing. I guess that will have to be tomorrow because it’s already getting late.

OH! Here is a story called “earlier in the week I was very sleepy.” So on Saturday I got dressed half-asleep and cleaned off the car and went to work. And after a few hours I went to the bathroom. As one does. And I was all, “why are these the most itchy underwear? These underwear are really itching me.”

BECAUSE I WAS WEARING THEM INSIDE OUT.

Yes. I went to work with inside-out underwear. Now, I probably could have fixed them, but it seemed like a lot of work to take off my big snow boots and pants and such in the grubby work bathroom and fix them so I totally went through my entire day with inside -out underwear. And every time I went to the bathroom I just looked sadly at them and said to myself, “this is really a total sign that you have just given up. You have completely and totally given up right now.” AND I DID NOT EVEN CARE ENOUGH TO FIX THIS SITUATION. IT WAS TOO MUCH WORK.

SO CHEERFUL! I was not this cheerful, but I was resigned about the situation.

SO CHEERFUL! I was not this cheerful, but I was resigned about the situation.

You will be pleased to know that my undergarments are on correctly today. And are much less scratchy since the lacy bits are right-side out, not wrong-side in.

They tell you the side-effects of not enough sleep are trouble concentrating, crankiness, forgetfulness, uneven motor skills, things like that. They do NOT tell you that you might space out and put on your panties inside-out and then just not have the energy to rectify the situation. I think there should be a PSA about such a thing. I mean, this would scare the kids, you know? Make them not as apt to stay up all hours partying and such? I mean, INSIDE OUT UNDERWEAR, you guys. This is not a laughing matter.

(The internet told me if you wear your underwear accidentally inside-out, you will have an especially lucky day. I didn’t. So therefore, your superstition is invalid. I TESTED IT. IT IS NOT TRUE.)

Also, I have read ALL the books over the past week; time in the light booth gives you plenty of time to read. Kindle-books and tree-books. We will discuss the pros and cons of both in a future post. All I know is, I read and read and read this week. I finished three books and am well on my way to finishing a fourth. Being able to read again? An absolutely amazing feeling. Just a brilliant one. Getting lost in a book was something I’ve been missing so much. And honestly I need to be getting lost in book-world, because I’m not having the best time in Amy-world at the moment, so it’s nice being in book-world. I’d almost forgotten that aspect of reading, and the main reason I did so much of it as a younger-me – it lets you not be you for a while. Thanks, books.

Two more days of theater hell, then only two more brief weekends of it. I’m the little engine that could right now. I think I can, I think I can, I think I can.


True life is lived when tiny changes occur.

It’s Sunday in my world. Monday in yours. Hi to your Monday, I hope you are all rested-up after your weekends of relaxation and luxury. I had a very stressful Saturday (work was cuckoo-bananas, as usual, even though I did get to work with my most lovely R., and that’s always a treat, HI, R.!) and now I’m having a very relaxed Sunday. I’m writing and later I’m going to put a ton of music on my phone so I can listen to music in the car with the help of the amazing sj, and THEN I’m going to set up my Roku box so I can get my Netflix started. THEN I WILL REST. I know. My restful days aren’t the most restful. But it’s all fun stuff, and I don’t have to leave the house, at least.

So we have big news over here today. Big ol’ news. Not even exaggeratey.

So time’s at a premium lately, as I’ve mentioned like a million times. See, I used to blog at work, because I didn’t have a lot to do at work. (Well, except for during tax season. NO MORE TAX SEASON FOR ME! I drive past my last job daily on my way home now, and I said the other day on the way home “HA HA SUCKERS NO MORE TAX SEASON FOR ME!!!” as I drove past. Yes, I talk to myself in the car, why do you ask? And are you at all surprised?)

Now I have a job with not only a lot to do, but I don’t want to risk losing it. So I don’t blog at work. (And I don’t have time to anyway. I just got trained up to my actual position, and it is BUSY. And also kind of awesome and a lot of responsibility. And there’s enough work backed up from before I was hired to keep me busy for a good long time. It’s like job security. Cabinets and cabinets of job security. It’s kind of awesome.)

Anyway, that’s neither here nor there. The thing is – my life’s gotten a little crazy and something’s got to give. I need time to breathe. And read. And play with The Nephew, hopefully, since he’s here now. And there’s some theater stuff coming up.

So the decision is…how do I get that time? And sadly, the answer is I have to do something about the blog.

The options are to either stop blogging, write shorter posts, or cut back on the amount I post.

I don’t want to stop blogging. I love it. Irrationally. I’ve met some of the best people; I’ve built this amazing community. I’m not wanting to stop that. I’d miss it too much.

I’ve tried to write shorter posts. I’m very bad at it. I attempt to write shorter posts and I start rambling and three hours have passed. I COULD try HARDER at it, but I’m a talker. And a writer. And I love all the words.

So that leaves cutting back on how OFTEN I post.

Which makes me sad, because I love posting every day. It gives me a sense of accomplishment and pride, and also I’m very hard on myself (I’m my own worst enemy, you see) so I am going to feel like a failure. But I think that’s the way it has to be, even though it’s going to be hard on me. I find it humorous that I beat myself up more than anyone else does. And I also seem to think in order to win, I have to do everything BIGGER AND BETTER. I need to stop that.

However, it will give me more time to live my life and do things and spend time with The Nephew and read books on the new Kindle and also in paper and play with the phone and watch movies and go to the theater and all the billion other things that I do in the world.

Much discussion has gone on with two of my nearest and dearest about this. Two of my people who know me (and my blogging) better than most everyone. And they both agree, me and short posts probably won’t happen. And I’m getting too stressed. And it’s not going to kill anyone if I cut back. They love me. (And it’s mutual.) They’re there for me. And I trust them. With everything. I listen to them when they talk. Because they’re my people. I didn’t take any of this lightly. (Shit, I don’t take anything lightly. Not anything in the world. It’s both a curse and a blessing.)

So. Starting soon (possibly even this week, possibly even TOMORROW, who knows) the every-day-posting you’ve gotten used to is stopping. I’m not going to stop writing…just not as often. Maybe 3-5 times a week. Maybe more, if I have more to say that week and more time.

If this is upsetting…well, I’m sorry. I need to go out and live some life while I’m busy making other plans, you know?

So don’t freak out if you’re all “WHERE IS AMY’S POST TODAY?” because I am doing something else. What am I doing? Who knows. Might be sitting on the couch doing nothing; might be watching a play; might be hanging with The Nephew playing with Playdoh, who knows. I’ll check in, I’ll let you know. I’ll still be here. And – AND – I’ll be less stressed when I am. A less-stressed Amy is a better Amy.

Also, we’re in the middle of a big blog design over here. Wait til you SEE. It is going to be SO SO BEAUTIFUL. (Well, it already is, it’s just not here yet. Will be soon.)

Lots going on. All the things. I’m going to go do some things now that are NOT internetty. I know, it’s shocking. Love you all to pieces. Big week coming up, theater and doctor’s appointments and salon appointments and ALL THE THINGS. Hope you’re all having the best week and thanks for being here, you know? What would I do without you all? No idea. None at all.

(Title is a Tolstoy quote. Credit where credit is due, always and forever.)


Last year’s words belong to last year’s language

“For last year’s words belong to last year’s language
And next year’s words await another voice.”
― T.S. Eliot, Four Quartets

New Year’s Eve always makes me all reflective. Like those strips on your running shoes so cars don’t hit you in the dark.

Super-reflective and artsy as shit.

Super-reflective and artsy as shit.

Tomorrow is for looking forward; today is for looking back.

2012. What can we say about 2012?

2012 was a roller coaster of a year. And listen, it is a fact about old Lucy’s Football that she HATES roller coasters. They make your stomach hurt, they bounce your head all around, they dig your earrings into your neck and they make you dizzy. I’d rather walk through the animal barn at the fair or something, that’s less distressing and sometimes you get to pet some sheep with their warm fleecy wool and soft noses.

Aw, sheepers! *pet*

Aw, sheepers! *pet*

There were good things this year and there were bad things this year and I’m still not sure if I consider it a win or a loss, to be honest. I’d like to say it’s a wash, but I don’t know if that’s the case, even.

But let’s not make this TOO depressing right out of the gate, right? I mean, do you come here for total depressing navel-gazing? What’s that? Sometimes you do? FINE, never let it be said I don’t deliver.

Let’s go through the highs and lows of 2012, yeah? It’s the day for it if there ever was a day. Tomorrow we can optimistically opine about 2013 but today we can look back on the year that was.

Fired. There is really nothing like being called into a conference room with your boss and the HR rep and to be told you are not only being fired, you need to be out immediately. And then being escorted to the door because you’ve possibly become a scary liability who might cause some sort of scene. In this economy, it is one of the most frightening things ever. Especially when you totally kind of brought it upon yourself because the reason you were fired was ostensibly for too much internet usage and also blogging at work even though you kind of weren’t REALLY blogging at work, only writing the drafts there and setting them to publish during work hours once you got home at night, and the only reason you were using the internet at work at all was because there was very seldom enough for you to do and the days stretched out looooong in front of you.

However, when you hated the job – and I mean hated, hated, HATED, to the point you had to pep-talk yourself into going in every morning and not sit in the car weeping, you kind of think, huh, maybe this isn’t the worst thing that’s ever happened, on some level. Then the unemployment stretches for about four and a half months, and you spend a month of it sitting on the couch so depressed you can’t take a full breath or move and all you want to do is sleep, and the remaining three and a half months working 50-60 hours weeks just to pay the bills…well, you get tired. July to December was a very long stretch, and a good third of my year. It’s hard to look back on 2012 without thinking of it as the year I lost a third of it to working too hard and being technically unemployed and worrying. Constantly. From the minute I woke up to the minute I fell asleep.

It’s not all bad, though. If I hadn’t had that part-time job that became full-time when I needed it to, I would have been living in my car, or back home with my parents. I was lucky to have it. It saved my life and sanity.

Hired (x2). But for every bad, there’s a good. Finally, after months and months of worry and work and toil and trouble, I was lucky enough to find not only a full-time job, but a wonderful full-time job, with people I love, doing something I enjoy, at a location I really like, getting paid enough money to not only live on, but live on comfortably. I pinch myself daily. I’ll never think I deserve nice things, and when they happen, I always wait for the other shoe to drop. I still wait. I have one ear out for that other shoe at all times. I feel like it’s going to be a very loud, very clunky platform sandal of some sort.

Or a big ol' loafer.

Or a big ol’ loafer.

Not only did the amazing job come through (thanks to theater friends) but ANOTHER job came through thanks to theater friends and I now can say I write for the paper. And I get to see plays for free, and review them, and people can read what I’ve written, and how much that actually influences people, I don’t know, but it’s what I do that I love more than anything else. When you have a job that doesn’t at all seem like work…well, you might be the luckiest person alive. It’s what we all want, isn’t it? It’s what I always dreamed of for myself, a job that I loved, that I’d do even if they didn’t pay me. And I have one now, even if it’s very much part-time.

Friends. Any recap of 2012 would not be complete without mentioning the friends that have walked through it by my side. I’ve made friends this year (one of whom is, I’m quite sure, my sister separated at birth – sj, my love, what would I do without you? I can’t even imagine) and become closer than I ever thought possible to others (Andreas, my beloved Science Fellow from the land of the Finns, you are a blessing I will never stop being thankful for), both near and far. I know some of the best people in the world, both that I’ve met with my face and that I’ve yet to meet but talk to on a daily basis. I’ll never stop being grateful for this; I’ll never stop being a little tearful when I think of how lucky I am.

I have also lost friends this year. It’s the way of the world, I think. Life’s constantly changing; things happen, sometimes for the better, sometimes for the…well, not-better. People change. You change. Whether you want this to happen or not. Sometimes you can fight this; sometimes you can win. Sometimes it’s beyond your control and you lose, or you’re just so tired of fighting the inevitable you just give up. Sometimes the loss is a good thing. Sometimes the loss leaves you unable to breathe and with a heart so filled with sorrow and regret and memories that sneak-attack you when you least expect it that you don’t know how you’re going to pick yourself up from it because you never imagined a life without that person in it. But you do, of course. Pick yourself up from it. Of course you do. Life goes on. It’s what life does, right? No matter how shattered you are inside, life just keeps on truckin’. And every day things hurt a little less, until the most hurtful thing that’s left is how something that once mattered so much is now no more than a distant ghostly memory.

Sometimes being an adult is all eating chocolate for dinner and staying up past your bedtime and sometimes it’s the deepest sadness you can imagine. We don’t tell our children this when they’re little. Otherwise they wouldn’t want to grow up, now would they?

Book. For all of the other things it was, 2012 was the year I finally had a book I’d written published. It is possibly my proudest moment of not only the year, but of my entire life. Holding a book in my hands I’d written…hearing from people who’d read it, talking to them about words I’d written and labored over and worried about and lived…seeing reviews of it go up, seeing it hit number one in the Kindle store, even if for a very brief period of time…absolutely amazing. All of it. I’ll never get over that as long as I live. Thank you to all of you who bought it and told people about it and geeked out with me about it. You helped make a dream come true. Someday maybe I’ll do it again, who knows? Life’s a funny place, really. You never can tell what will happen.

That’s one big apple. It wasn’t a year of much bon vivantery, but the teeny amount I got to do was awesomeness. I got to go to my favorite city in the world and meet one of my favorite PEOPLE in the world, my wonderful Susie. And we had a day of adventure and walking and talking and shopping and eating and so many things. Say what you will about the interwebs, but if you do it correctly, you can meet the best people the world has to offer. My Susie is one of those people, and meeting her in person just proved that. Love you, Susie!

Blog. What would a year-in-review be without talking about what takes up a majority of my free time, this here thingamabobber? The day in 2011 when I decided, “what the hell, let’s start a blog, Ms. Amy, what have we got to lose, really?” will live in infamy as the day a very silly off-the-cuff decision led to rewards beyond imagining. Without the blog, where would all these words in my head go? Without the blog, how would I have met all you wonderful people? Without the blog, how would I be this person I am now? The answer to all of those questions is a big old, “I don’t know.” A lot can live in an “I don’t know.” A lot of emptiness and sadness. I love it here. I love what we’ve all built. I love every bit of this. Thank you all for being part of this. Without you, it’d be a lot less fun, now wouldn’t it?

Half an hour trumps three and a half hours. As of two days ago, The Nephew and his mom have officially moved half an hour away. Half an hour is much better than three and a half hours, visiting-my-favorite-person-in-the-world-wise. I’ll be polite. I’ll give them some time to settle. Then I’m going to show up like the magi bearing gifts and I’m going to read him books and play with him on the floor and giggle with him and tell him stories and big words that thrill him and I will be happier than all the things in all the land.

So if we weigh the good and the bad…well, I guess the year was a wash, all-told. But not the awesome kind of Wash like on Firefly.

More than ready for my 2013. Big plans for you, year. BIG OLD PLANS. Starting with a whole day off tomorrow in which I will do whatever the hell I want.

Hope you all had the best 2012s known to man, and that your 2013s are amazing wonderful sparkly affairs full of wonder, mystery and magic. It’s all I want for you, really. It’s not too much to ask, right? Right.


Just utterly crammed with Christmas cheer, just absolutely stuffed

Merry Christmas, my darlings. And joyous Yule. Or whatever you celebrate. Maybe nothing, in which case the happiest of non-secular Tuesdays to you, and I most sincerely hope you get the day off so you can say, “I HAVE THE DAY OFF FOR NO GOOD REASON!” which I think would be kind of awesome, wouldn’t it? You could do whatever you WANT! Perhaps go see Les Miserables!

If I didn't hate people so much, I'd go see it just for "On My Own," yes I would.

If I didn’t hate people so much, I’d go see it just for “On My Own,” yes I would.

I’m writing this the day before, as I tend to do. I had a half-day for Christmas Eve; no one was in the office. It was a ghost town. A ghost town of people looking at the clock and was there ever a mad dash for the door at noon – whoo! Most people seemed to want to do things like get to traveling or start baking or something. I needed to go buy toilet paper and milk and was worried the Rite Aid was going to be closed. I wasn’t even going to dare the Target or the grocery store, not on Christmas Eve, no no not THIS woman.

Whoo, look at THIS Rite Aid! Fancy, no?

Whoo, look at THIS Rite Aid! Fancy, no?

At the Rite Aid, people were scrambling for last-minute gifts like possibly soap-on-a-rope, I don’t know. I just wanted some toilet paper and some milk. Also some chocolate, because sometimes you need chocolate because you think it’s going to make things all better? (Side note: most of the time it does. Depending on how badly you’ve been hurt. And I suppose how much of it you eat. And just how good the chocolate is.)

So there were a billion people around the cards (listen, I’m sorry, there’s not that one perfect card…it’s what you WRITE in the card that counts. I hate to tell you this NOW, at like the literal 11th hour, but that’s just the truth. You could give a blank card, and write the right thing in it, and it’d be the perfect card. Trust me on this one, ok?) and pawing through the Christmas chocolate and the decorations and Christmas nailpolish and they all had that wild-eyed look in their eyes like MUST GET THINGSSSSS even though the THINGSSSS were THINGSSSSS from the Rite Aid, and not the right things (or even the “rite” things), probably, at all.

It amused me someone online took a photo of the Rite Aid Christmas aisle. Mine was looking...sparser than this today.

It amused me someone online took a photo of the Rite Aid Christmas aisle. Mine was looking…sparser than this today.

So I got my toilet paper (yes, yes, YES, I realize only a dummy runs out of toilet paper on Christmas Eve. And I didn’t run OUT. Don’t be getting mental images of me having to use CATALOGS or something. I just was down to one roll and was worried I might run out tomorrow when nowhere was open to get any more. And THEN it would catalogs, you know? No one wants to be the person trying to use a catalog to clean their nether regions on baby Jesus’s birthday, people.) (SIDE NOTE: I just read that last sentence to my mother and she GASPED IN HORROR and then LAUGHED AND LAUGHED and said “Amy, I know why people read your blog” and I said, “Well, please tell me, I need to know such things, for like RESEARCH or whatever” and she said “Because no one else would ever come up with such things, not anyone ever” and that strangely pleased me, even though I think it was possibly an insult or maybe just the horror, knowing my mom) and some milk because I had a terrible thought, WHAT IF I RAN OUT TOMORROW and I totally wanted a glass of milk. I mean, sure, I haven’t had just a GLASS of milk in like…um…years? But what if I WANTED one. And it was not AVAILABLE to me. Well, that’d be a fine how-do-you-do, now wouldn’t it. And then I was perusing the chocolate selection and it looked like maybe there had been a run on all the chocolate. Why did you people need so much chocolate? Will there be trick-or-treating? What’s that? Stockings? ALL of this for stockings? Huh. I just wanted some chocolate. Preferably some with mintiness involved. ‘CAUSE IT’S CHRISTMASSY DAMMIT. Grumble. (I had to settle for nuts. Nuts are, by the way, not a substitute for mintiness when you have your heart set on mintiness. Nuts are FINE, but not when you wanted MINT, don’t get all “AMY NUTS ARE GOOD.” This is going euphemistic super-fast and that’s not at all what was meant.)

Let's be honest: this is what I wanted. These things are Christmas crack for me.

Let’s be honest: this is what I wanted. These things are Christmas crack for me.

So anyway, I was standing at the chocolate area being all “sigh this is not at all what I wanted, stupid Christmas Eve” and this MAN with a PLAN decided was SO IN THE WAY and shoved past me very very vehemently. Which caused all the chocolate on one part of the display to collapse and fall EVERYWHERE. So he stood there looking at it dumbly for a minute then was all “SIGH SIGH” and picked it all up. So, therefore, in his rush to shove past someone who, by the way, was not even in the way? Cost him about twice as long as just nicely walking past someone would have. Nice one, Christmas Carl.

Then forty-billion people drove around my car when it was halfway out of my parking spot. Didn’t wait for me to pull OUT of the parking spot. Just drove on past. One honked. Well. Um. If you’d waited for me to pull out? Then I wouldn’t be in the way? And you could get around me? Because I started pulling out before you even pulled into the parking lot?

Then I came home to a very cuddly cat and a very warm blanket and a very supportive friend and some very delicious Chinese food; these things, combined with the aforementioned chocolate, managed to make the day not as bad as it could have been.

Sorry for the crankyness of this Christmas post. I should be more…um…mistletoey and holly-sprigged? I’ll get right on that. Where’d I leave that mistletoe DUMBCAT PUT THAT DOWN.

Later there will be It’s a Wonderful Life and The Grinch and A Wish for Wings that Work; tomorrow there will be the opening of the gifts (yes, yes, I will try to remember to take some photos for you) and A Christmas Story. Back to work on Wednesday. Lots to do, which is exciting. I like going in and knowing I have things to do. Then right back to normal; theater things and work things and right back to Amyland and then the new year happens. Oh, I’m looking forward to you, new year, and all your shiny newness. Let’s shed this last year like a snakeskin we’ve outgrown, won’t that be nice? Yes. Yes, it will. (Ironically, the interwebs informs me 2013 IS the year of the snake. Appropriate, no?)

I like this crankety-ass frog, yo.

I like this crankety-ass frog, yo.

Merry Christmas and Yule and whatever you celebrate, my most favorite favorite ones. Spend the day with your most beloveds and hold ‘em real close, ok? Well, I suppose, if you can. Your most beloveds might live in the computer or across the world or whatever, I don’t know your life. Just let them know you love them. Because now’s the time. It’s always the time right now to do that. While they’re there. What, you don’t trust me by now? Trust me on this. Really.

May all good things be yours today. My most fervent wish for each and every one of you today. Even you, Ding Dong Joe. Even you.


%d bloggers like this: