In-box. Inbox? in box?

I am currently on a plane on my way to find a temporary apartment in LA so I am cleaning out my in-box.  Which had 4,000 emails.  People FREAK out when they see that number on my phone, so I usually hide it from them.  About half are junk mail that needs to be dealt with.  The other quarter are related to either work or creative life.  I’d guess the other quarter are personal, and how do I delete a picture of an old boyfriend from my best friend’s wedding that she sent me after the wedding?  What do I do with the cutest picture of Pickle I’ve ever seen—but I just can’t deal with?  What about that vacation cottage in Linwood that I wanted to book?

I tried to KonMari the shit out of my homelife, and it did seem to help.  And then I just realized, just like writing, you set aside time, and you do it.  EMPTY that inbox!  Use that gmailbox labelled “nice things”.  Put away that laundry!  Dust those shelves!  Just do it and I’ll you’ll feel better after.

So, I did.  I went from 4,000 to 2,000 in 2 hours. I mean, they are still THERE but they are in sub-folders. So everyone chill out, OK?

By the way, if you want to REALLY drive an organized person crazy--show them your phone with an inbox of 2,510 emails.  My PT flipped out when she saw that shit!

Also, isn't that an awesome picture of my dog, Pickle?

(There is some incriminating evidence on here, including that I belong to WeightWatchers, that it is 10am and I haven't yet left for KC and I have 2 weather apps that I use).

Feast of Friendship

This is the time of year for purging and I'm prepping for the temporary relocation to LA.  I keep patting myself on the back for getting rid of shit that could have been gone ten years ago.  Or 10 weeks ago.  Like, receipts for Christmas presents from 2014.  Or, my favorite item so far---an atm withdrawal from college (On 11/20/93, at 18:23, I took out $15 and had an available balance was $268.55).  I figured out it was for our Tower Players "Feast of Friendship".  Every year, our improv group the Tower Players, would have a fall formal with a full thanksgiving dinner and dancing at the Western Cabin on Western Campus.  We'd dress up, bring potluck (I'd always bring the turkey) and hire the sorority/fraternity photographer to come take pictures.  I loved this gathering, and we replicated it for years here in Chicago.  My favorite part of it was when we'd pass around a candle and say what we were thankful for that year.  That shit always made me cry.

Now that I look back at the Feast---we were a precursor to Friendsgiving!  Also, I think we were replicating the big sorority/fraternity formals.  Miami University was super in to being greek.

I hated that greek shit.  If you weren't in one at Miami, you felt so left out.  Thank god for some of the hilarious nicknames--my favorite of which was "Delta Oops i joined the wrong fraternity".  

Anyway, I purged lots and lots of paper---old journals, old running orders, old notes on some show at the Playground theatre, lots of to-do lists.  My comrade in purging, Andy Eninger, recently told me he took all his old journals, and tore out the papers with writing on them. And then, he organized them according to “personal journaling” and “theatre/creative ideas”.  I stared at him like he was a crazy/genius god. 

One time, when Andy and I lived together, I ordered an organizing book “getting things done”---he immediately commandeered it, and it ended up in his bedroom.  Along with a table I had brought from my old place.  He was a wonderful roommate, but tended to just take things without asking, and that DROVE me crazy! 

We did a play, Band Geeks, A Halftime Musical, and had 6 buckets for a car wash sequence.  When we re-mounted that show, we could only find 5 buckets.  Then, I went to a Gayco show, and there was the 6^th bucket!!

Another time, I went to a show, and there were the stools from both Little House on the Parody and Band Geeks!  What that meant is he grabbed the stools, and used them for rehearsal, tech, etc for weeks, and never once mentioned or asked.  And then I show up, and there they are.

I know I should have the spirit of generosity where that doesn’t bother me, but it did.  Just like when I’d wake up in the morning when Andy and I lived here, and the counter would be riddled with little crumbs from his breakfast of twigs and branches (I think he was paleo at the time).

Anyway, he is a constant source of inspiration to many, but he’s also a hilarious roommate.

And every year, when I passed that candle, I felt grateful we had become friends.  I also would follow him around, wiping the crumbs in his weird food wake.

Happy NEW YEAR!

I fully admit there is a blatant ambiguity of topic in my “gig” blog.  In the past, I’ve blogged about getting a breast reduction, working on a cruise ship, feeling scared and lonely and making casseroles. 

Most recently, I’ve tried to blog about gig life. That blog topic kind of fell off, too.

Anyway, here’s the update on that end.  December was AMAZING!  In that first week, I was working a maternity fill-in, doing my first-ever work for Second City Works (SC for corporation), had an awesome Mind Gym gig, was doing some oddball work for my friend Jeremy and such.  But, as December went on, and then the holidays came, work slowed down…and then just dropped off.  My January Mind Gym gig cancelled.  The Second City work hasn’t gotten off the ground.  No maternity leave fill-ins in the hopper.  I started smoking like a chimney (DON’T TELL MY NIECES and NEPHEWS!) And drinking too much wine.

So, I decided to truly hatch my new plan.  I have always wanted to check out Los Angeles, and see if I could see myself living there.  There’s a lot of things that intrigue me:  the entertainment industry, the sort of hazy, 70’s runyon canyon and beachy Eagles vibe, 90210 LIFE, and I do have a ton of friends out there.

But, I am, admittedly, a WUSS.  I’ll dip my toe in what I want to do (write! perform!) and then just bail. You know, take a writing class, or get all excited on a plane about a movie idea, and then just bail.

Just like bailing on the blog!

So, I’m trying again.  The good news:  last time I decided to try something I was afraid of in my creative life (writing sketch comedy)---I reached my goals (wrote a shit-ton of content, both good and bad).

In summary, this 44-year old lady is heading to LA for the month of February.

I know what you’re thinking—“Oh, how brave.  Another white lady going to Hollywood to make it big.”  Or maybe that’s what I’m thinking. 

Anyway. I’m on a plane, I land in a few hours to go check out potential subleases “Charming Craftsman”, or “Special Guest House in Pasadena”.  I’m repressing concerns about transferring half of my savings to checking, so I can pay for this all.

I am optimistic that everything I’ve set up for myself since July will pay off.

Back in July, I quit my perfectly find day job to go 100% freelance.

I am trying to “work on my own self”, and pushing boundaries of doing new things 

• I swam/ran/biked in 3 Triatholons, a word I can never spell, 
• I rode in super-long bike ride with Apple Century in Michigan
• I went to Cuba (not really a huge accomplishment, because I just wrote a check and booked some flights, but it was pretty amazing)
• I am journaling every day (well, most days)
• I am going on a shit ton of walks and saving money by cooking at home
• I am waxing my own eyebrows and other parts

I hope that I don’t bail on this new LA adventure.  I don’t want to turn around and see 50, and be like---YIKES!

Wish me luck!  This is the most recent headshot I have--probably not good enough for auditions anywhere.  But, there is is.

Handy handy handy man

Things you quickly clean up before the handyman arrives:

Half chewed tampon your dog ate
Empty wine bottles
your red stained lips
wine glass on the table

your collection of bras (for the big chested gal!)

Things you don't bother with
dog pee pads
bottle of pills for dog
cat toy (for dog)
Paper towels (for cleaning up after dog)
making your bed
Putting away your groceries from the night before

DISPATCHES FROM A SAFE HOUSE

Sunday night.

I am safely enclosed on the top floor of a typical Chicago two-flat.

My friends, life-long White Sox backers,, welcome me, quickly leading me up the stairs, away from prying eyes.  They are Cleveland fans because they love me, and because they love a gritty underdog with faithful fans.

They love Chicago, but hate the Cubs. I feel at home here more than I ever do drinking beer in a sea of frat boys and tube tops, heels and blowouts in the bleachers of Wrigley.

I biked from my home in Andersonville, avoiding Clark street and the Wrigley mess, and sneaking down Ravenswood to a home that has welcomed this Northern Ohio life-long Cleveland fan in the most unfriendly of territories.

We are spending Game 5, Sunday, with the windows closed, within spitting distance of Wrigley field, as the pitchers grind it out, run by run.

Saturday night was victorious, and we were graceful in our words "That was a GREAT baseball game! For both teams" we declared, as we swigged our beers, munched on our cheese and meat, and high-fived each other.

The littlest Sox fan converted the Cubs song to an Ohio song, "Go Tribe Go, Go tribe Go, hey Ohio what do you know, Cleveland's going to win today".  I want to gift her with diamonds, hug her to death and thank god that someone else on the northside is on my side.

There are more of us, though we are leery to show ourselves.  At a friend's brunch on Saturday, I showed up in my "Believeland" t-shirt, and was happy to find the 2 other native Clevelanders inside.

We immediately swapped tales of home, watching the games growing up, who's our favorite player and the mutual agreement that Chief Wahoo is pretty awful to bear.  I breathed a sigh of relief in to my coffee as I felt myself able to express myself freely with my people.  My, dare i say it, Northern Ohio tribe?

The particulars of Ohio geography don't really matter to anyone until they travel through, or there's a federal election.  But, simply put, of the "C" cities of Ohio, Cleveland is to the North, the grittiest, the most like the South Side of Chicago, Cincinnati in the South, it truly the most like the South, with a heritage torn between the gentility and kindness of the south, and the racism and narrow-mindedness of some of the more traditional areas of our country (ie, Klan marched on their main square in recent memory, this is the city that banned Mapplethorpe) and then Columbus, up-and-comer with banking, college students and a lot of shopping malls along with a burgeoning downtown scene.

Within our fair state, just like the fair city of Chicago, there are clearly drawn north/south rivalries (Browns v Bengals, Cleveland v Cincinnati), but we all come together for OSU football.

Tonight, however, the taunts start to fly.  Chief among them is my pal, who yells things like "You don't even care about baseball", or "Shit shit shit!" when the Tribe fumbles a catch.  We each ask each other who our favorite pro athlete is and when I respond "Kyrie Irving" the boys of the crew cheer.

I feel at home, able to cheer for my tribe, in a way I haven't felt in the last week.

Last Wednesday, when I watched the game at Fat Cat, a northside pub I frequent, among the blue and red, my Cleveland shirt tucked under my jacket, and my cheers stifled under the table as Cleveland brought

On Friday, I was on the El and taking a picture of the Addison stop, and overheard 2 ladies discussing the Indians "I just hope they stop it with all this Cleveland nonsense.  You are in Chicago now!".

On Saturday, I wear my "Believeland" shirt on a bike ride, and people stop and stare on the bike path, wearing their Cubby red and blue.

For me, it came to a fever pitch, Saturday afternoon, I sat outside at Moody's, one of the best watering holes on the northside, and a dude glares at my shirt, and points it out to his friend. I zip up my coat.

After that, I knew I needed a safehouse.  I did not want to taunt these fans anymore, nor did I want to hide my feelings of joy.  That's when I decided to find a place to hideout.

After the Indians lost on Sunday, the little Sox fan turned to me and said "Becky, what would you do if the Sox played the Indians?"  We tried to explain to her that would be impossible, but she wanted an answer.  I paused, and thought about how welcoming Chicago has been, even on days when Chicago Cubs fans believe they are the only ones who had grandfathers who loved their team, or that they have the exclusive right to win because of their long drought, and ignore the fact that the Sox won the Series a few years ago, and the Bears have won the Super Bowl, and the Hawks are KILLING it in hockey, and the Bulls were unstoppable and produced a player the likes of which we haven't seen until, well, Kyrie's pal, LeBron James.  I paused, and said "I'd have to cheer for both, and cheer for baseball."

I'm not quite there with this series, as I cuss out the umps, high-five for sluggers like Santana and Napoli, but I am glad we modified the song to keep a little bit of the Chicago spirit alive.

Go Tribe Go!

Cuba

WHOA!!!

So, long-time blog followers (hi Dori!) will note my absence.  It's funny how much time flew by in September and October!!!  I just got back from a long weekend in NYC with my best gal pals Amy and Kristin (oh my god was that fun!) and the week before I was in Cuba.  On a cruise!

Talk about gig work---those Cubans gig it up like no one else.  Art is made from anything, people go to work in a bus driven by a horse, and there are a million old cars from the 50s, ready to drive you anywhere.

I have a lot more thoughts/reflections on Cuba, but, in short--GO NOW!  GO LATER!  GO GO GO!

It's a wonderful place.

I also rode 41 miles in the Apple Cider Century Ride! I want to ride more!

And, I have some Mind Gym work coming up and I am PUMPED for that, too!

I found out that another maternity gig I hoped to get in March isn't going to be filled.

I am also contemplating a temp move to LA for the winter--Pickle and I need to take in the western air to cure us of shitty winters.

So, my other plans will happen sooner.  I may need to do a bit more of the Lyft/Uber and such to fill the coffers.

This post is kind of rambly.

Off I go to work work work!

WFH!

I started working downtown again---just 21 hours, of which, 2 days are in the office, and the other hours float as needed.  It's an amazing gig, and I am having the best time at it.  Honestly, I feel cheerful, energetic and have jumped right back in to the bitching at work about some dumb reports.

Anyway, it's at Cooking Light, Real Simple, Health and associated digital properties.  And, like I do anytime I work, I morph slightly in to the brand I am working for.

Hence, my freezer is FILLED with make-ahead meals, where I take the same basic ingredients (canned tomatoes, turkey, a minor carb (preferably a Quinoa or something that is not, god forbid, white rice) and a fresh veggie.  And Voila!  Turkey Chili!  Turkey-stuffed Peppers!  De-constructed cabbage rolls with turkey and Quinoa!

I wanted to update my wardrobe, but couldn't afford the fashion in Real Simple, so instead, hit the alley sale in Andersonville and found a garage filled with fashion from a gal about my size, with similar taste in style, but not in color.  She tends toward orange/brown/grey where I am much more pink/purple/blue.  We intersected at navy and black and white.

While I was there another lady shopper was wearing a "surf ohio" shirt which of course made me laugh. If I had any $, I'd go buy one now on Amazon.  Anyway, I asked where she was from---turns out, AVON!  Oh my god--that's where my aunt and uncle live, as well as my brother and family.  It abuts Elyria!  It's one of the "A" towns the white people move to when they get freaked out by Elyria and Lorain because those cities are too "urban".  Plus, Avon has a super nice shopping center with an Old Navy and a Kohl's.

Of course, one of her kids had my brother Paul as a teacher, and LOVES Paul Gilbert.  She moved to Chicago "mid-life crisis/left the burbs" and lives near me!  We are going to be friends!

And I know thought of what I am doing with my life:  Avoiding a mid-life crisis.

Anyway, she works from home, as do a few other pals, so maybe we will start a WFH club! (work from home!)