3 shows, 2 days, 1 mom

So, as I sit here in pain from my free personal training session, I would like to look back to happier times when I could still raise my hands above my head...this weekend. So, you know when you hits your mid-20s and it's absolutely great to have your parents visit - often. Well, I am definitely at that stage. The past few years, I been both in Texas and Washington D.C. which are technically not in the vicinity of Indianapolis, so I've really enjoyed being closer to my family and seeing them more than 2-3 times a year. Especially since I have a wanderlust and 2 years from now could be in Instanbul for all I know. So, let's take advantage of the time we have, shall we??? Anyhoo, onwards and upwards. This past weekend had been planned for awhile, I got comp tickets to see Frederica von Stade in concert a couple of months ago. Then, when my mom said yes to coming with me (von Stade is one of my fave singers), then I got tickets to Wicked for another night. A couple of weeks ago, I found out I had to work this weekend at the CSO children's Halloween concert, Hallowed Haunts - The Composer is Dead. Kind of hectic weekend, but fantabulous nonetheless. Friday night was homemade Mexican and the movie Pan's Labyrinth - super fun night in. Saturday was the Halloween concert, an amazing show that will be published as a book/CD next year - written my Lemony Snicket!! Wicked was great - I had seen the show a couple of years ago in NYC, but wanted to share it with the mother figure, another great lover of musical theatre. Sunday morning was brunch and walking around Hyde Park, and then the von Stade concert. Can I just say how amazing she is? Because she is amazing- amazing voice, great entertainer. Some weekends, I like to play hermit, but it was great to get out these past few days and tread the pavement in the city. Now if I could only feel my legs.

Passion

So, haven't managed to blog in awhile, but it has been crazy lately! A couple of weekends ago was the Macy's Day of Music here at the CSO and we had over 10,000 people show up! Needless to say - it was a long day. But, I did make time last week to go see a show with a friend from grad school. She got reduced tickets to Sondheim's Passion which is playing at Chicago Shakespeare Theater starring Ana Gasteyer (of SNL fame, although she did premier, as Elphaba, in the Chicago Wicked). I didn't have huge expectations, Sondheim is often hard to pull off, Passion was the shortest running Best Musical ever, and Ihad my doubts about Gasteyer's singing. Oh, and how wrong I was - the show was amazing! Very intimate setting, great voices, really tight staging, strong chorus - loved it. I'm not a diehard Sondheim fan - I have really fond memories of Sweeney Todd as the first show that I worked on in a professional setting and now I love it. Sunday in the Park with George (ahhh, Mandy Patinkin) and Into the Woods are other favorites. Passion, will not, I think, be a show that I listen to repeatedly, but it is in and of itself a very dark and gripping story: unrequited love, adultery, isolation, ugliness, betrayel, and sickness. Those elements make for a great Law & Order:SVU episode, but aren't something I typically look for in my musicals. The stars aligned for this show, however, and Ana Gasteyer's realistic, incredibly believable performance as Fosca really brought the show to a higher level and I have to say, although rather depressed as the last note was sung, Passion lives up to its name.

Saturday Night Fever

In my never ending quest to avoid the gym, but still stay in shape, I got it in my head to take dance class once a week. In order to get variety, I took a basic jazz class. During most classes, it's the normal, Broadway-esque moves to music. This past Wednesday though, we danced to a blast from the past, and it was once again confirmed for me that I just might have been born in the wrong era.

Picture this, you're in a club, shakin' watcha mama gave ya and rockin' it right. Suddenly, some guy is behind you grinding like it's going out of style and any aspect of "personal space" is a thing of the past. Not cool...and not hot, either...Seriously

Now, picture this, the music's hot, everyone is rockin' out with smooth moves and some kickin' threads. Suddenly the floor lights up and Donna Summer is dancin' her last dance'. Oh yeah, I'm saying it...disco, my friend. Love it or hate it, no one can stand still when the music comes on.

How is this all connected? Because this past Wednesday, my jazz class ended with some mad disco moves. We did it all - guns at the hips, strutting, posing, the crossed arms while pointing with two fingers, and yes, the infamous hip thrust/point the finger up made famous in Saturday Night Fever. While visions of John Travolta danced in my head, the class learned the routine, and not ONE person could finish it without cracking a big grin - who doesn't know disco? Who isn't at least somewhat impressed with the moves and the music that goes hand in hand? Who isn't impressed with Travolta's moves in Saturday Night Fever and his hot pants in Staying Alive? The best thing since Sean Connery in Darby O'Gill and the Little People.

But I digress...what I'm trying to say is that the disco finale to my Wednesday class made me yearn for the time when "clubbing" didn't mean getting drunk, rubbing against total strangers, or music that can sometimes make the ears bleed. Don't get me wrong, I love to hit the dance floor as much as anyone else, but I have to say, sometimes I wish that disco might not have had to have it's "last dance."

You know you've had a crazy family weekend when...

Usually, when I go home for the weekend, which isn't often, it's fairly relaxing and uneventful. This past weekend, that was totes not the case. So, I bring to you, as I'm tired and feel that listing is currently my bff:

10 signs you've had a crazy family weekend:
1) Your mom cooks - I don't know about you, but my mom only cooks when it's gettin' crazy.
2) You ask your grandmother for any LPs she has - and she breaks out a huge stack of records that cost less than $1 each.
3) You watch your youngers cousins, and then JOIN your younger cousins in doing the "Soulja Boy" dance.
4) Your grandparents are watching during the above said dance...although I'm confident that my grandfather had no idea what he was listening to/watching.
5) You see more than two people you know at Red Lobster.
6) You almost adopt another cat.
7) Your mom is wearing red glitter heels to church.
8) You managed to stop at the Tasty treat before it closed for the season.
9) You hang out with your best girlfriend from junior high who is married, bought a house, and just had a baby (hey, that's mad crazy to me).
10) You are more tired after two days with your parents than you are after an all-nighter of partying.

This ain't your high school French

I decided several weeks ago that I wanted to whip my waning French skills back into shape. So, I went to the Alliance Francais de Chicago (part of a worldwide system of alliances dedicated to sharing the French language and culture) and took a verbal/written test. Shockingly, I remembered more than I thought I had from high school and one year of college French. I signed up for level 4 twice a week. And has it been hilarious/nervewracking/really great. In school, French class revolved around workbooks, pop quizzes, bad French-Canadian music videos ("Bonjour la police!" anyone?), sing La Marseillaise in front of the class, and cultural videos where everyone wore clothes made popular sometime in 1983. Now, everyone, for the most part, are working adults with very different goals - we've voluntarily signed up and paid for classes. Some come just to enjoy another language or to improve their business skills, and for myself, I'm working for my French language certification. As a result, the classes are smaller, students seem more creative and open to making mistakes, and the conversation varies wildly. In the last three weeks, in various tenses, we have discussed prostituting oneself to pay for vacation, the lack of attractiveness of Madeleine Albright, and how Coco Chanel was a Nazi symphathizer. I sincerely don't remember these topics coming up before. And covering major questions like "Qui est le chacal?" during our movie discussions. And, while some of my friends can't fathom why I want to return to the classroom twice a week on top of a full time job, for me these few hours a week are a respite from reality and a chance to delve into a beautiful culture and language and to bond with my fellow students who otherwise would have been strangers. Viva la difference!

The Wheels on the Bus Go Round and Round

My personal message to my fellow CTA bus riders:
-If you are sitting next to me talking to your boyfriend, please do not cover the following topics: your last argument, why you don't feel he cares enough about your day, how much you love him more than his last girlfriend, sex, and how he is too close to his mother.
-Pushing directly on the person in front of you does not by default make everyone on the bus move to the back.
-If you have the skill to paint your nails bright red while riding the bus, then keep on, keepin' on.
-The advantage of you having headphones on is negated if you sing outloud, just sayin'.
-Cussing out the bus driver makes the ride equally uncomfortable for everyone.
-I am all about preaching the gospel, but there is definitely a time and place, both of which is when I am not there.
-I respect the fact that you hate your mother, but telling her in no uncertain terms what you think of her while she is sitting next to you and I am sitting in front of both of you is definitely not cool.
- I understand that you are elderly and should have priority in seating, but asking someone to get up out of there seat (while there are a ton of other empty seats) because it's your favorite and standing right in front of that said someone until s/he gives in and gets up is not part of the deal.
-If you are the same person who painted your nails flawlessly and then reached in to your bag to put lotion on while NOT messing up your nails, then I still have a lot of respect for you, because you have produced a miracle.

Back to the Midwest

So, really, I'm a failure when it comes to blogging. BUT with a new city, a new job, and a new apartment, I feel (wait for it) newly inspired. Winding down my almost two-month stint as the posterchild for wild happiness, I am settling down in Chicago and figuring out what exactly I'm doing - yes, who's excited? Between moving, figuring out the bus system, and vainly teaching Sugar that Taco Bell's idea of fourthmeal does not apply to cats, it's been a little crazy. My ND friend, we'll call her Sarita, has been visiting these past couple days and reminded me how far I've coming from the Domer life - 3 years and counting. And here I am now, starting my second year in corporate development after swearing up one side and down the other I would never be a fundraiser. Note to self: no more swearing. When I tell people that I work in arts administration, I find myself continually trying to explain exactly what that is and why I would choose that career, and does that mean I'm a performer? I'm sorry to say that no one wants to hear me sing/play an instrument unless some sort of alcohol is involved - on their part:) But to continually be intertwined into the world of performance and knowing that I raise money that makes it happen is why I do what I do. I may not be able to call a show, direct a scene, or lead a rehearsal, but I can write proposals, conduct research, and whip up final reports like a champ. And yes, it's thrilling, and don't knock it 'til you've tried it:) Plus, sitting in an empty box watching the CSO peformance, led by Riccardo Muti, of Tchaikovsky's Symphony No. 6 (my personal fave) just makes it all worth it.