Life musings, off-the-wall subjects, and serious cases of "open mouth, insert foot".
Thursday, January 26, 2006
theatrical tidbits
* The Rent DVD will hit stores February 21, 2006!
* Wicked Tony Award winner and recent Rent film star Idina Menzel will star in an upcoming Disney movie musical entitled Enchanted, featuring a score by Alan Menken and Stephen Schwartz.
* Robin Givens and "Dancing with the Stars" John O'Hurley joined Broadway's cast of Chicago (as Roxie and Billy, respectively) on Jan. 16.
* On January 9, 2006, The Phantom of the Opera surpassed Cats as the longest running musical on Broadway. Following the show's regular bows, the company disappeared and the ballerinas gathered in a circle to reveal from their group a solo female dancer in white spandex. Offering several signature stretches from Gillian Lynne's "Cats" choreography, the dancer inched her way toward Howard McGillin (the Phantom), and took his hand. With that gesture, a metaphoric torch was passed: from one Lynne-choreographed show to the next, from one Cameron Mackintosh-produced show to the next, from one Lloyd-Webber-composed show to the next, from one longest running to the next.
Congrats to Dennis & Jenny! They recently arrived back into the US after adopting a child from the Ukraine. Noah just turned 2 on December 12, and he is a beautiful, healthy boy with blonde hair and big blue eyes. This kid's gonna be a heartbreaker with his mega-watt smile and great personality! We got to visit with them and the baby last night, and of course it tugged at my heartstrings and made the baby envy that much worse. ;) I'm incredibly happy for the two of them; they're incredibly lucky to have been blessed by Noah, and I can't think of a more deserving couple. I know they'll be wonderful parents, and if they EVER need a babysitter.... :)
The "heart & soul" of St. Timothy, as he was called, passed away Tuesday, January 17, 2006. Deacon Phil was 90 years old. His funeral was this morning, and it was very touching. Msgr. Hambrough gave a very eloquent homily, and I honestly don't know how he kept from breaking down during the Mass.
This is 2 losses for the St. Timothy family in a week--Mr. Bud Gotch, the building janitor / maintenance man, passed away last week and was buried January 14, 2006.
After losing three warm, loving people in the past 2 weeks, I think that's enough for the rest of the year. Oddly enough, the 3 people that I've lost have all been deep-rooted, faithful Christians. None of them were ashamed of their faith, nor were they ever afraid to stand up for what they believed in. But they all did it in a humble, not "in-your-face" way. They were quick to help anyone and everyone, in any way they could, and they each did it with a smile on his / her face, expecting nothing in return. Each of them lived in a way that they were proud of, and in turn, made their families and friends proud of them.
As weird as this may sound coming from my mouth, I hope I can be even half the family person, friend, and Christian that each of these people were.
... Kinda funny though. Don't hear Douche used all that often. Oh, that's one staple in my vocabulary now: dirty douche, douche bag (my personal favorite), you douche! It really works quite well. "You worthless douche." I like that one. I also like ass-bag even though there are not many chances to use it. Worthless douche. Knda rolls off the tongue. As does ass-bag. Oh, there are PLENTY of chances to use ass-bag! "Hey ass bag, gimme the remote..." "Ass bag, get me a beer..." "Damnit ass bag! I told you to take out the trash!" See? Gee, hard to tell who the ass-bag might be. The ass bag-ness of it all is an equal opportunity nickname. It is shared by one and all. Oh it is equal opportunity. And I'm sure you'll be sure to take your fair share of the opportunities. Ass-bag. Yea, blogging that one, too.
for your reading pleasure: conversations caused by sleep deprivations
Hey what night do you want to hang out this weekend? Do you just want to chill at the apartment, kinda low key? Either night works and in or out works. You will find me very easy. lol--Duuuuuude, no more 'bout your sex life.... Hey it is not like I haven't been hearing about yours for what 6 years? Touche. I really like that word. It doesn't look quite as cool as when you say it though... (Nice change of subject, eh? ;) Touche is a great word when used at just the right time. I like to drag it out - TOO......SHAY. Does that mean I can make the word douche look just as cool if I drag it out: DOO.......SHAY Hm. Not quite the same. I'm sooo blogging that, by the way.
i just have to get this out; sorry it's a downer...
I don't do well at funerals. Family ones are the hardest, obviously, but what makes those even worse is the fact that my dad doesn't do well at funerals either. NOT AT ALL. And seeing my dad, a 6'2", 200-something pound, intimidating-looking, grown man be reduced to sobs, is one of the hardest things for me to deal with.
Today was hard, as I knew it would be. I didn't want to get out of bed this morning, and I didn't want to go the funeral at all, but having been asked by my cousin Pat to read the petitions ("Would you mind doing that? Mom would have really loved for you to do it..."), I couldn't make up an excuse to save face. It was selfish of me to even think that way, I know, but I felt the same when Bubba, grandpa, grandma, etc. died. Nobody likes funeral, I know, but I find it difficult to cry in public sometimes, to top it off.
The mass at the funeral home was nice, although they played the 2 songs I knew they would, but didn't want them to: "Ave Maria" and "On Eagles' Wings". It never fails. But, they are to be expected, as they are generally seen as funeral songs. I lost it. I don't know how my father was able to handle being a pallbearer, but I'm incredibly proud of him and admire his strength. At the church, the priest was excellent--he tied in his sermon about Annie with baseball. He began by talking about Sutter's upcoming into the baseball Hall of Fame, then said that Annie is getting an even better Hall of Fame placement--in Heaven. I went up at the wrong time to read the petitions; at first I was embarrassed, but then I smiled, knowing Annie's unconventional humor would have made her giggle at the faux pas.
After the interment (?) at Resurrection Cemetery, we were all invited to go to Growler's Pub for food and drink. I love my family: instead of mourning a family member's death, they do what I think ought to be done: they celebrate their life. Annie lived a good, long, fulfilling life, and never met a stranger. She had incredible strength, saw her husband through some very hard times, and created memories for herself, her family, and her friends. It may seem odd to some people, but toasting Annie with a beer is exactly what she would have wanted us to do. She was quite the beer drinker, back in the day, and even continued having one or two a day up into her old age.
I could go on and on, telling stories about the original "crazy old lady" (on the Tunnicliff side, anyway), but this post would be much longer than it already is. As weird as it may be, I'm in a very peaceful mood right now and write this with a smile. I know Annie is where it's right for her to be now--with her husband and family members who have gone before. Grandpa and Uncle Art look as they did in the prime of their lives, as do grandma and Aunt Annie; the boys are telling the girls to behave, while the girls are standing with one arm around each other's shoulders, a beer in other hand, legs extended in a high kick, and huge smiles on their faces.
I had to stay home with grandma because I had a cold / the flu (?). But then I got the news: I had a new baby brother to play with!!! I was very excited, couldn't wait for him to come home, and was so proud to finally be a big sister.
For the first couple years (while he was still in his "cute" phase ;), I was the best big sister I could possibly be: wearing out my red shirt with the white "I'm the Big Sister!" lettering, convincing mom and dad to "Please let me hold him; I'll sit and be REAL careful", feeding him a couple bottles, and only WATCHING mom / dad change his diapers. I wasn't THAT good of a big sis, after all...
Once he got old enough to walk and talk (and get into everything possible in Big Sis' room), the "cute" factor started to wear thin. I, like most older siblings, started resenting the fact that "he's getting all the attention" and I was being left in the dust. Not that I was a drama queen or diva or anything ;) , but I was 8 years old and feeling neglected. I wanted attention, too, damnit! So I did what any big sis would do with a life size Barbie doll: I dressed him up in my clothes. Don't act all innocent, you know you'd have done it too! Of course my clothes swam on him, but in all the pictures (which I still have), he's got this huge sh*t eating grin on his face. Poor kid didn't know any better...
As I got into the babysitting age, I wanted to try out my 'skills' as a babysitter on my younger brother. Who better, right? However, mom and dad wouldn't allow it. They were afraid we'd kill each other. Sad and horrible as it is, they wouldn't leave us alone together because they thought we'd kill each other. I told my parents (and RJ) on more than one occasion that I hated him, and wished I was an only child. (I know, I was a brat! But I had been an only child for the first 6 years of my life, and didn't know how to handle someone else getting all the attention.)
We grew up a team, had some great times, got in fights, got each other in trouble, and kept each other from getting into trouble. I suffered a broken toe at the mercy of RJ's hockey stick in the basement, but I guess that's payment for dropping his head against the arm of the chair when he was a baby. (Sorry buddy!)
Thinking that we hadn't grown as close as I thought siblings should be, it was a shock to me when I learned he cried the day I moved out for the first time. I remember going back to mom & dad's the day after I'd moved to pick up a few things, and he was pretty hateful to me: "What are you doing here? You don't live here anymore." I teared up and asked mom why he was being so mean: "His best friend moved out, Stacey." I made it a point to still spend as much time with him as I could--I'd pick him up and we'd go shopping, or just BS at the apartment.
Well, today he turns 18 years old. I can't believe it. He's graduating highschool in 4 short months, and it leaves me feeling old and wondering where the time has gone. Granted he still doesn't have his license but I can't really say much on that end. (One thing he does need, though, is a J-O-B.) Although I sometimes have to convince or pry things out of him, he tells me his secrets, and I can't begin to say how much that means to me. I know it's gotta be weird for a younger brother to tell his "Big Sis" his secrets, but I appreciate the fact that he trusts me enough to do so, and even listens to my advice--even though it's usually with a, "Ok Stace..."
He's a lot like my dad with his sarcasm, quick wit, and sick sense of humor; he's also a lot like my mom with his creative genius (painting, model cars, you name it), attention to detail, and unwillingness to be embarrassed. But I've also noticed that he's a lot like me, too. He does things to throw you off, says totally off the wall sh*t sometimes, and can be moody as hell. He's just plain....weird. And even though he's a good 7 inches taller than me now, skinny as a rail, but could still kick my a** if he wanted to, he'll always be my "little" brother.
This may seem a little selfish, but please keep my family in your prayers. I got a call from dad at 5:15 this evening; Aunt Annie passed away about 4:45. She was Uncle Art's wife, my grandpa's sister-in-law. My grandfater's siblings included: Him (Ray) (d), Art (d), Jane (d), Sr. Raymonda (d), Fern (d), Dorothy (d), Sr. Pat, Clarence, and Sr. Mary Helen.
Annie was probably one of the nicest, sweetest, craziest old ladies I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. All her stories from the family's past were hilarious antedotes, and no matter how many times I heard them, they were all still as funny as the first time. Getting chased by wild hogs at the family farm, or accidentally crawling into bed with Uncle Clarence, telling her friend to pray to St. Poopadoopalus when she was constipated, or coming back to see me before the wedding and exclaiming, "You have boobs!!!"
She used to tease grandma, "Edna, remember when we used to do those high kicks?" My grandma would always deny it with a shake of her head, "Annie, we never used to do high kicks," but she always had this little smirk on her face that I never quite understood. After grandma passed away a few years ago, one of the family members found an old old picture of her and Annie, arms around each other's shoulders, huge smiles on their faces, and right legs kicked up. I had a moment in the car last night while Dustin and I were driving home: I was tearing up over a song that was playing on the radio, but at the same time I started giggling. When he asked what I was laughing at, I turned and asked him, "Do you think grandma and Annie are doing high kicks together in heaven?" He answered, "I'm sure they are."
Keep kickin' gals. We'll miss you Annie, and we love you.
"Jellicle Cats come out tonight...." (or in June...)
The following is an excerpt from an email Mr. L sent out today:
"As for the choice of show, we are going to do CATS...The show was just released for non-professional production, so drawing an audience should be something easily done...But obviously, the show is a BEAR!!!!!!--in acting, singing, movement, costume, make-up, set, props--you name it. So we will be getting started early...etc."
WOW. That's all I can think to say. WOW. What an undertaking for our small humble group, but what a learning experience it will definitely be...
