And Then I Moved to Colorado

I spent my birthday with strangers this year and it was one of the most exciting days of my life.

Not because anyone knew it was my birthday (or because anyone even knew me). Not because I moved into the triangle shaped upstairs of a house chock full of Harry Potter holes (small doors that monsters and bad guys could easily crawl out of - terrifying!). Not because I ate a delicious, gluten-filled brownie my roommate made because she likes to bake. Not because my other roommate had a long haired chiguagua with whom I knew I would become best friends. Not because I watched my first full Game of Thrones (which I hate) episode in an attempt to make human friends. 

Not even because of all those reasons.

Rather, it was one of the more momentous days of my life because I moved to Creede, Colorado to take a new job with a repertory theatre.   

2013 What A Year

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

2013 proved most eventful. After a fun-filled 2012, 2013 started off... on the couch. New Year's Eve last year, I had dinner with Person and the Joneses and then promptly fell asleep on the couch missing all ringing in and other celebretory festivities. But perhaps I needed the sleep to prepare for the year ahead...

From a trip to Portland to visit my sister... to a Reverse Oregon Trail (Let's-Move-Amy-Back-To-Chicago-Trip)... to a brief nanny job in New York... to a relaxing fall leaves Colorado tour... to an Adriatric Cruise in the Adriatric (I realize this is redundant, but you guys - seriously!!)... this year I travelled much, and felt extremely grateful. I saw some gorgeous sites (mostly in the US!) and some amazing artifacts (mostly in Italy).  If I had to choose 2013's world's best sights, I really, really loved Crater Lake in southern Oregon,

The David in Florence, Italy, and the ancient Greek theatre (complete with coastal views) in Sicily, Italy.

Other totes awesome and random loveliness includes... experiencing Moltnoma Falls, 

hearing Pope Francis speak, 

90 and Counting

Happy Birthdays all around this week.  Not only is it our nation's special day... Happy Bday Lady Liberty...

but yesterday was also my Grandma's 90th birthday!  That's right, Ninety, and still counting!  Happy Birthday to the noblest lady I know.  So vital and full of life.  You're an inspiration.  Keep on growing, girl.

  

Happy May Day from 1985 to 2013

1985 Ann listed "May Day" as one of the top four best holidays... right behind Valentine's Day (or is it Ann's Day - hard to tell).  Valentine's Day?  Seriously?  Obviously 1985 Ann never met 1999 Ann or 2005 Ann or 2011 Ann or... I mean, really, where were my priorities?  Also what, pray tell, is a "Bathday Party?"... Cause I totally wanna have one this weekend.

Happy Birthday, Carol!

Hey everyone, it's my mom's birthday!

I won't tell you how old she is (mostly cause I don't want to do the math), but she's still a cutie, eh? She's a retired French and Latin teacher who now works part-time as a children's minister at the church I grew up in. She's been married to my dad for over 40 years (yeah, I didn't want to add those numbers up either). And together, they make a pretty sweet couple.

Carol loves art museums, traveling, reading, theater, jewelry, going to the pool, eating delicious food, going to movies, and cooking (or if she doesn't, she sure does it a lot). She also loves my grandparents whom she helps take care of. Here they are last month at their sixty-something-th wedding anniversary. Whoa.

And if that weren't enough, she also loves her three daughters...

But really, who wouldn't?

Happy Birthday, Mom.

The Search for the Missing Clue!

So you may have read my blog about my boyfriend and my birthday in which I describe why receiving gifts is a love language of mine. I blame my father who "spoiled us as little girls with presents hidden in the pockets of trench coats, sitting in the carseats when we opened the door, discovered at the end of treasure hunts with clues wehad to decipher to find." In the comment section of that blog, my father offered his rebuttle:

Writing: Day one. Beautiful, revealing, touching, self centered, delightful and of course...as always, written with wit and style.

Clue # one. If you look inside a book on page thirty three perhaps you'll find a gift so special that the Bard would say, "love can be found in many places, but the best come in small surprise packages.

Love you,
Dad

Great... (she muttered with a suppressed smile).

Assuming that he hadn't planned that far ahead and left a small surprise package in the Shakespeare books on my bookshelf when he had been to visit in early May before my birthday, but not wanting to risk arriving in St. Joseph in mid-June, devouring my father's thousands of books only to discover that page 33 referenced a book in my own library, I took down my Complete Works of Shakespeare and turned to page 33. Nothing. So I'd have to wait til I got to Missouri.

Several weeks later I found myself in Missouri. Oddly enough, my father found himself in Texas. I was on vacation visiting my parents and grandparents (as a nanny, you vacation when your nanny family vacations) and my father was at work at the National Debate Tournament.

He wasn't home to watch me, but that first morning that I awoke, I started in my bedroom, which had been his former office over 20 years ago, and perused every shelf of books (22 shelves in that room) for Shakespeare books. Having googled, "love may be found in many places but the best come in very small packages" and found no play or book citing this quote, I planned on checking every Shakespeare play, but was betting on an anthology.

Nothing.

From my room, I moved to the official library of theater books in the den (only 15 shelves in there but they're much longer, but they're also mostly alphabetized, so I was counting my blessings).

Nothing. Dangit.

So I moved to the third library of books in the living room (13 shelves but scattered with photographs and plates on stands - subconversation: why plates on stands? - so not as many books).

NOTHING.

I was puzzled. Surely the reference to the bard was to the most famous bard in Shakespeare, but if it wasn't, if it was to some obscure "other" theatrical bard then I was screwed. I just don't know my theater that well. On the other hand, maybe my father forgot. Maybe he read the blog, thought he'd leave me a little clue and then, well, forgot to. Life is busy. He had to retire and prepare his kids for nationals. It could have slipped his mind.

So I facebooked my father. "I have looked on page 33 of every book about Shakespeare or written by Shakespeare in both my house and yours. And you can imagine how long that took... but I got nothing. Another clue please?"

When he returned from Dallas, he came into my room and reported that "it" was still there and that I obviously hadn't looked hard enough. "Two gentlemen could find it," he mumbled as he walked off.

Grr.

Okay. So Two Gentlemen of Verona, the play or in an anthology. So I went through every Shakespeare book in the house. Again. And lo and behold, I did indeed find clue number two on page 33 of one of many Shakespeare anthologies (found in the living room to be exact - and I promptly moved it to the den where it belongs).

It read:

It's about time, I thought you'd never find this. Your clue finding skills are slipping.

Now where to go for Clue #2.

Another book... perhaps an old shoe.

When you find this note you'll giggle with glee

Cause then you'll be ready for Clue #3.

Hmm. Possible hints in the clue: Book, Shoe, Glee. Book, shoe, glee. Book... shoe... glee.

In my sister's room where I sleep when I'm the only child at home (her bed is a double and the most comfortable bed in the house - and yes, I still only have a twin bed in my room!), there are a pair of Amy's old tap shoes probably a size 5 in little girls. I ran to the room and grabbed the shoes. Nothing inside. Flipped them over. Nothing taped to the bottom. I remembered a favorite framed poster or painting of my sister's with an old pair of ballet slippers on it. I searched the house, but the painting was gone. They must have given it to Amy at some point.

Hmm.

Let's go with the book reference. What about a book about a shoe? Brilliant. Old Mother Goose! I found the book of nursery rhymes in my bedroom (in case you hadn't noticed, that's where all the random books are stored) but no "There was an old woman who lived in a shoe..."

So I went for help again.

"Now dad, here's where I've checked so far. I'm oh for three on books and shoes. Do you and mom have the DVD of Glee by chance...?"

He just laughed and said no. And he mentioned how proud he was of how clever this clue was. "Take some time off. Look again tomorrow."

So I did. Frustrated, I quit for the day and mom and I probably went over to Grandma's to play dominos that evening. I don't remember. What I do remember though, is what I dreamed that night. I dreamed about that damn clue! I dreamed I was searching the house for the clue and that indeed mom and dad had Season One of Glee and I found it in the cabinet and found the next clue inside.

I woke up disappointed.

Dad had to go to Savannah High School to finish up some things that night and mom had to go to work, so I spent the morning revisiting the clue. "I'm really proud of my cleverness on this one..." my father had said, so I looked harder at the clue.

Some other words began to pop out at me. "Slipping" and "giggle" in addition to "book" and "shoe" and "glee." Holy cow, I've got it. Cinderella. In Into the Woods, Cinderella slips and falls every time she enters the stage which is a reference to the golden slippers she's wearing with her ball gown (needed by the Baker's Wife to reverse Rapunzel's Witch's spell... I'm digressing). Amy and I were both in that and loved it. How clever! I was giggling now! And off I ran to the DVD cabinet to find Into the Woods.

While it was there, another clue was not. Hmm. Up to the theater books again and my figured perused the S section. Sondheim. Into the Woods, there was the score. But there was nothing in it but my father's old markings. Okay... Back upstairs to the hallway of memories where my father has pictures hanging of all his old shows. There are five pictures of Into the Woods, the last show he directed. I played the Witch (don't even start in with me on type casting cause my sister played the Cow), so I checked the picture frame of me first. But after moving one by one to each, I found no clue.

Defeat.

Ugh.

So I posted on my family's private facebook page. "Amy, Emily and Mom, where are all or any references to Cinderella in our house? I've checked the Into the Woods pics in the hallway, Sondheim's script in dad's theaterlibrary, inside the DVD case of Into the Woods, there is no Cinderella Disney VHS, there's nothing in a book of fairy tales in my bedroom. HELP. Any other things in our house that reference Cinderella?!"

They were no help. I had less than 24 hours left and I was only on clue number two. This was not good. But my father did write on my wall... Okay, here is a clue. You have already been so close you were nearly burned by the clue."

Sonofa... So I checked all the frames again and the DVD and the Sondheim script and Amy's shoes... and there, tucked UNDERNEITH the tap of the shoe was the corner of a sliver of paper. Seriously dad? Could that have been more obscure. And could it have been the FIRST PLACE I CHECKED and I MISSED IT?!

"Well it's about time," the next clue read. "What happens when Noah and your birthday collide?"

A biblical reference! I've got this one.

So I began looking for the Bibles. However, as part of my Father's Day gift to my dad and part of the reason I came home in June, I promised to help him move his office from work back home. This required going through his old study (my bedroom) and getting rid of books, making piles of books to go through, give away, sell in the garage sale, etc., moving books downstairs to where they belonged. And I'd already collected all the Bibles and made mom choose which ones she didn't want or need anymore (likewise, I made my dad go through all his dictionaries and do the same - there's no need for 15 dictionaries in one house). Afterwards, I'd boxed them up and put them in the garage sale pile.

DANGIT!

So I opened back up the boxes and in each Bible I turned to Genesis chapters 4-11. Nothing. Hmm. Not in a single one of the Bibles. Strange.

"When Noah collides with your birthday..."

Well, Noah had an arc, and ships sometimes wreck. So maybe that's the reference. My grandfather had painted a picture of a boat in a sunset that was hanging in the living room. I checked it. You got it. Nothin'.

ANIMALS! Duh. I love animals and Noah had tons of them (two of each in one version of the story and seven of each in the second - yes, there's more than one version of the Noah's arc story). So I ran back up to Amy's room and checked Binky, Emily's old stuffed bear that she loved. That and my Raggedy Ann doll are about all we've got left. Nothing.

So I asked mom for help. She had no clue (pun intended) I had even spent the week looking for clues and now here it was, 4pm the day before I was supposed to leave and again, I was coming up empty handed.

My father watched us brainstorm on the couch from his easy chair and laughed. Finally he said, "Stick with the numbers..."

"Is that a clue?!" I demanded.

Animals went on 2x2.

The flood lasted 40 days ("and nights" my father threw in).

Your birthday is 5...18... 1978.

518 ships?

UGH. Frustrated, we decided to quit for a while and go see a flood of our own: the Missouri River. Afterwards, while dining at a new local restaurant in St. Jo Mo, we returned to the clue.

"There's a chance you've got the wrong Noah," my father suggested.

"What?!" I demanded. "The wrong Noah? I don't even know any other Noahs. At least, not any famous ones."

So I thought and thought and then again returned to Glee. "Noah Puckerman! Puck on Glee! His first name is Noah!... But you don't have the Glee DVDs, we've been down that road before." My father got his biggest laugh yet on this deduction.

"Honestly. I don't know any more Noahs," I announced. "I'm turning to Google."

My father wasn't happy with this option, but it was almost 8pm and I was to leave the next morning. So I grabbed my iPhone and stuffed a little more ravioli in my mouth. "F...a...m...o...u...s...N...o...a...h..."

I scrolled past the Noah and the Arc entries and then read... "Look it up: Noah Webster's famous dictionary..."

"The Webster's dictionary guy's name was Noah?" I asked incredulously. "Who knows that?!"

"I did."

"I did," my parents both reported. Turns out my father had given my mother the hint of "wrong Noah" earlier in the evening and she'd guessed the correct answer right away.

"Oh no," I said, suddenly remembering something. "I already packed all those dictionaries for the garage sale too!"

With my parents in stitches we drove home and I began going, yet again, through the boxes of books already twice packed now for the garage sale. And in the largest Dictionary of them all, on page five hundred and eighteen I found my final note.

"That's better. Are your bags packed?"

All that work and the game was finally over.

Who knows how many hours I wasted (waking and sleeping) trying to figure out those clues. But my dad got a good laugh at my expense. And is was fun... most of the time. But the best part was after returning to Austin, finding one last little note in my... packed bags of course.

My dad loves me and loves to torture me.

And for the first time in my life, I think I'll be able to wait for my next birthday.

A Birthday and A Boy

He was late. I wasn’t surprised. He is often late. He’s unorganized, loves to sleep, and lives out of town. It’s forgivable, but annoying.

I calmly applied make-up to my starting-to-show-my-age face. I would turn 33 at approximately 4:10pm that day and wanted to look my best despite that to celebrate the day of my birth, my friends and I were mostly exercising, beginning with kayaking on Lady Bird Lake. But you never know when will be the perfect opportunity for a photo, and since my boyfriend who was also to be joining us was late, I applied make-up to my already hardening face.

It’s not like he didn’t know what time to be there. After all, I had sent out three detailed emails with the schedule in the days prior to my birthday. Weeks before, he and I had agreed that he would take the day off, we discussed the festivities to be planned, and I sent out reminder emails to the parties involved with explicit instructions on what time to be where and with what in tow.

This is what happens when a woman who’s OCD dates a man who’s ADD; inevitably one of them ends up overcompensating either with organization or minute attention to inordinate detail. Because I’m the one who’s OCD, I had them both covered.

Not only that, but I’d gone over my birthday wish-list with him so there would be no repeat of Halloween or Christmas (neither of which near-catastrophies I care to rehash now). The list was, of course, posted on my blog for the whole world to go over, but since he rarely reads my blog I knew that was a base I needed to cover. Additionally, we’d gone to visit several stores that had clothing or other items I fancied, and had perused the merchandise together. We’d even gone to my favorite piercing salon that sells (real!) diamond nose rings which avid readers of my blog will remember I have been coveting now for years.

But the morning of my birthday, he was late. So late, that I left without him for the lake.

“Don’t cry,” I told myself. "Don’t let him ruin this day. You get to choose your own attitude; you choose how to respond to this." Michelle called to ask where I was. “I’m close,” I responded, “but the boyfriend’s not with me.”

He called when I had almost reached the kayak rental booth. “I’m at your house.”

“I’m at the lake.”

“Should I grab your bike?” (We were going to bike, after kayaking, to Opal Divine’s on 6^th Street).

“I guess.”

Chris and Michelle were waving as I began down the path toward the lake and the long row of kayaks. “Happy birthday!” they cried, cheerier than normal.

“You can ride with Michelle and I’ll kayak by myself,” Chris said, relieving any anxiety about me now kayaking alone. “I’m sorry about poopy-head.”

“Poopy-head’s on his way.”

Chris and Michelle are real troopers. They’ve seen me go through more men and been more accommodating and supportive and hospitable and a million other adjectives that describe what the best friends of a serial dater must find themselves embodying lest they perish in the process. They’ve been cordial to the ones they’ve hated and grieved the ones we loved and lost. They would make the most of this for my sake. And we would all be in the water together.

“Don’t worry, I won’t start the clock til you enter the lake,” the guy with the newspaper working the kayak stand told us. He’d managed to pick up on the fact that it was not only my birthday but that we were killing time trying on different life jackets and posing for pictures with paddles while waiting for my boyfriend.

“Thank you.”

The boyfriend arrived shortly thereafter. He was anxious and visibly frustrated. And his clothes weren’t exact kayak appropriate, but part of the tardiness had been that he wasn’t able to finish his laundry. I tried not to be short with him, but found my usual biting criticisms chomping at the bit when trapped in a small kayak in the middle of a huge lake with a boyfriend who was an hour and a half late and kept paddling a different direction than I wanted to go.

But we had a great time despite the minor grievances. We even got to see the last few minutes of some repelling dancers rehearsing off the side of the old Light and Power building. Yes, there are people in Austin who do synchronized repelling and spinning and leaping while 200 feet above the ground, or better yet, above water.

After returning the kayaks when our hour was up, we hiked back up to the cars and got out the bikes to pump the tires and be one our way. However, the tube was punctured on my bike. So Chris and Michelle headed on (since we were behind in the schedule and were meeting people at the restaurant) while boyfriend and I decided what to do. We chose to throw the bikes back into his jeep and just drive to Opal’s.

Lunch was super. Gabe, Bethany and Tessla were there waiting, and once our waitress spotted us, I ordered my favorite drink (a Texas Red), my favorite appetizer (the Divine Quesadillas) and my favorite meal (a Tuna Sandwich on wheat with no onions and of course French Fries). Yum! Of course, I checked in those of us without privacy settings on Facebook, and uploaded a picture of the delicious beverage. Plenty more pics (hipstamatic and regular) were taken of Tessla gobbling down her mac ‘n cheese. And the quote of the day was delivered by Gabe: “Ann, have you ever considered rapping?”

Awesome. Not even going to give you the context.

Once full, we decided it was time to head to our next activity: stuffing our stuffed bodies into swimsuits to lay out by Chris and Michelle’s apartment pool. We said good-bye to the Chances who had to return to work and we took off, Chris and Michelle on bike and boyfriend and I in our cars.

“Let’s head to a bike shop to get a tube for your bike first though,” he suggested and I complied. We found a local bike store and once inside began perusing the items. We quickly found the tube we needed and then had to hold each other back from buying everything else we might ever need for a bike. That store was very dangerous.

“I don’t have a bike lock.”

“You need a new seat.”

“I love these pink handles.”

“Let’s ask about bike pumps.”

In the end, we left the store with a tube and a bike pump, despite my objections. “Why do I need a bike pump when the only time I ride my bike is when I’m with either you or Chris, and you both have pumps I can use?” But he bought it anyway because sometimes he’s just as bull-headed as I am.

When we got out to our cars, he handed me the tube and bike pump and said, “Happy birthday,” sheepishly shrugging his shoulders and managing a smile.

Oh my god, he didn’t get me a real present.

“Thanks,” I said, and hurriedly closed the door on my car and blinked a few times before pulling out of the parking lot and heading on to Chris and Michelle’s.

My heart sank. He didn’t get me a present.

He bought me a tube and a bike pump which I didn’t even want. He bought me a present he wanted. Wanted me to have, but still - something I didn’t want or need. I’ve been talking about the importance of this birthday for a month and had the whole day planned, pro-actively, to make sure I spent it doing things I enjoy with people I enjoy, and he showed up an hour and a half late and couldn’t plan ahead enough to buy me a real present, something meaningful that suggested he cares?

I was dying. While I know presents are not the point of birthdays or holidays, they are nevertheless important to me. I’m a gift-giver. I love picking out things that are special that I think people will like and when I have money, I buy those things, write a little card, and give the gift. I love it. And I love receiving gifts the same way. It’s my love language. I blame my father who spoiled us as little girls with presents hidden in the pockets of trench coats, sitting in the carseats when we opened the door, discovered at the end of treasure hunts with clues we had to decipher to find. But right now, I was blaming the boyfriend. My no good, never on time, couldn’t plan ahead if his life depended on it, lazy ass boyfriend who I know just slept all day on Monday and even came into Austin on Tuesday for a voice lesson (and could have just swung by Parts & Labor my favorite store to grab a tee-shirt or necklace), didn’t get me a present.

I got a bike tube and pump that he bought in front of me and handed to me at the car.

I have to end this, I thought. I can’t keep getting disappointed at every holiday. Hell, we broke up once over Christmas, why not break up for good on my birthday?! Seems sadly perfect! It's just that I can’t keep doing this. I know I’m high maintenance, but I’m not that horrible of a person. All I want is for him to take off work one day and show up on time with a present in his hand. Surely some boy somewhere likes me enough to bring me a present on my birthday!

My mind began reeling through the dates I’ve had over the last few years. None of them very notable and none of them lasted very long. Then my mind moved to sadder more far away places, and played over the men who made it into the small corners of my heart and left a little bit of themselves inside. I grew more frustrated and even frightened. “All I want is a diamond nose ring!” I cried out loud in my car choking back the tears. Is that too much to ask?

I felt like Sandra Bullock in While You Were Sleeping. All she wanted was a stamp in her passport that said “Italy.” All I wanted was, well, a nose ring. And love. I guess we both wanted the love presupposed behind the stamp and the stud.

We arrived at Chris and Michelle’s and I got out of my car resigned to the fact that I would have to break up with the boyfriend… tomorrow. No sense ruining today with that. I mean, I’d bought us tickets to the theater for later that night! I was just going to have to put on my game face and get through the rest of the day.

“I got you one more thing at the bike store,” the boyfriend said, getting out of his car. “While you were in the bathroom.” He handed me a small box. “It’s a patch kit.”

“Thanks,” I replied, un-enthused, and opened the trunk of my car to get out the cooler for the pool.

“Open the kit.”

“Why?”

“So you can see what’s in it.”

I was so pissed. I pulled open the box. Why did he have to show me how the patch kit works right now? I don’t care about this! Could he be more clueless?

I pulled a little plastic bag out of the kit.

“What’s that?” he prompted me.

“A pin.”

“No…”

I looked again, and against my will, a smile began to creep onto my face. “Is it a nose ring?” I asked, incredulous. He began jumping up and down, pleased not only that he’d pleased me, but surprised me too.

“But I’m so mad at you!” I said, smiling through my shame. “I thought…” I trailed off.

I thought. I thought. I thought. All I ever do is think. I analyze and over-analyze and assume that people will never change and that I’ll never find love. Not that love comes in a 1/8 caret stud that gets shoved up one’s nose, but it’s the symbolism of the matter. I assume and judge and exhaust myself while hope battles despair inside my brain and resignation wins in my heart. Or because I can’t stand to be made a fool, I end up alone again.

But not right now. Right now I am not alone. I may feel a fool, but I'm not alone. Right now I may be a repentant and embarrassed girl who will cry if she wants to on her birthday, but at least I’m with a man who, as it turns out, loves me anyway. A man who loves me despite my lists and organization and obsession with holidays. A man who loves me enough to hide a real diamond nose ring in a bicycle patch kit while I’m in the next car over practicing my break-up speech.

No wonder they say fools fall in love...

33 Wishes... sort of.

It's here. Better late than never, eh? This is my Wish List for my 33rd Birthday which will be upon us in eight days. While my therapist suggested I register for gifts like women would for weddings or baby showers (debunking the idea that the community only helps provide for a woman if she's getting married or having a baby), I'm not ready for that. However, I will categorically share my wish list in three parts: What I Want, What I Need and... Be My Patron. Check it out...

WHAT I WANT

• Gift certificates to Parts & Labor (my favorite local store in Austin), Creatures (another local Austin treasure - it and P&L are located on South Congress just south of Riverside) or Anthropologie!
• Full sized sheets for my bed (with two queen sized pillowcases) in neutral colors: white, cream or beige with minimum 400 thread count.
• A curved curtain rod like this one (double rod!) at Bed Bath and Beyond or this cheaper one.
• A new shower head like this one (also found at BB&B) with a "finger pause button" for when you're shampooing, shaving, etc. (awesome!)
• a blender (for margaritas and smoothies - would like to try some new healthy alternatives) and maybe a vegetarian smoothie cook book (P.S. don't tell anyone I asked for a cook book. I'll never live it down).
• a bar stool like this one at Ikea in black.
• Other things I love... Books!... Candles!... Cool Belt Buckles!... Earrings and Rings!... Shoes (size 6)!... Scrapbooking stickers and stuff!... and Fingernail polish: one day a month or two ago I just decided that for the first time in my life, I wanted to wear bold, bright nail polish. But not your normal red or pink or brown. I want fun colors!...

WHAT I NEED

• New size 6 tennis shoes for walking, jogging and exercising (haven't had a new pair of in years and am running another 1/2 maraton relay in October).
• Fillings on six teeth (approx $200 a tooth)

So this final section is things I would like to have but can't currently afford. They are things that, if I lived in the 1800s or early 1900s I could maybe get or do because I am artist and I would possibly have a patron. That patron would sponsored me and my art allowing me time to write and perform and not worry about how to pay the bills...

BE MY PATRON

• Headshots by Claire McAdams. $250. She's local, she's young, her work is amazing, and I really need a good headshot for auditions.
• Dance classes at Ballet Austin in Ballet, Modern or Broadway Jazz. They sell "Class-cards." For a 4 class-card it's $60, an 8 class-card is $110, 12 classes is $150, 16 is $190 and a 20 class-card is $220.
• My hair returned to it's more natural and more likable red-brown color (I'm still currently sporting the leftover blonde Evita hair now with two inches are dark roots!) I go to "gypsecowgirl" at Topaz Salon on South Lamar. $120-160.
• Buy me a day to write. I earn $15/hour babysitting (and work 8-10 hour days) and approximately $10/hour acting (if I get cast in a show that pays!). So, buy me a "writing day" for $120 and I'll take a day off work and devote 8 hours to working on my book or buy me a writer's block for $40 and I'll devote four hours of a weekend to writing (either way, you'll get your name in my list of thank you's when/if the book is published!).
• Voice lessons... in addition to getting another Masters in Minority Literature, I'm also considering another Masters in Vocal Performance. If so, I have to have the recommendation of a vocal coach to even apply to schools. And that costs money. Depending on the teacher, between $50 and $100 a lesson...

Thirty-Two

So my birthday's on Tuesday. I know I'm really late in telling the world. Usually it's March and I'm posting a countdown, April and I'm giving you my wish list.

But this year's a little different. I haven't been as excited about it, for a multitude of reasons I suppose (and NO one of them is not that I think I'm OLD, Emily, I'm NOT). I'm not even throwing myself a birthday party and I do love to throw parties.

Instead, I'm going to Nashville, to the Festival of Homiletics (that means preaching conference). I'll get to see Sam and Lynnette and Lindley and maybe do some flood relief work. I'll get to hear some great preaching. And since I'm taking the GRE in July, I'll be "going to class" on my birthday as I'm signed up for a Kaplan Internet Prep Course.

But, since mom's been asking, here's my list...

A Solid Wrap Swimsuit (size 4, cinnabon color).
Gift Certificates to Parts and Labor (my favorite local shopping spot on SoCo)
Gift Certificates to Anthropologie
and I guess gift certificates to Home Depot.

I know, I'm kind of lame this year. But I have so much stuff already. Hmm. What would my list look like if I asked for non-stuff?...

A Gift Certificate to have someone come deep clean my house (i.e. clean my stuff!).
A Gift Certificate to have someone come chop the dead tree out of my front yard ("before it falls on your roof!" Clarence keeps telling me).
A roommate.
A day at a spa.
and... world peace?

Happy Birthday to me. Tuesday.

Happy Birthday January 25ers...

There are a lot of you. But just to highlight a few...





Happy Birthday girls! (and happy birthday to my co-worker Kevin and my boss's son Grayson and an old friend from college, Amanda and...)

Thirty-One Is Where It's At

Oh my gosh, you guys, this was an amazing birthday week!

Despite the fact that I had to go to a deacon's meeting ON MY BIRTHDAY and despite the fact that I had to go to a strategic plan meeting at 9AM the morning after my birthday celebration, overall this was an awesome birthday.

So you already know about the boots, but why, you might ask, was i wearing heels before i threw them off to put on the boots? Excellent question. A lovely family in my church whom I have come to know well over the past year gave me two tickets to go see the Broadway touring company's performance of RENT!!!!

AUGH!!!!

So after getting everything ready for Beresheth on Thursday night, I kissed my Beresheth peeps good-bye and Michelle and I headed to the theater. The two leads are played by the two men who premiered them on Broadway and while initially I found it a little creepy that such old men were acting young, grunge, nineties-ish, by the end of the play I totally bought it. What an amazing performance. I knew some of the songs and the general plotline, but I'd never seen the show and needless to say, like most musicals, i LOVED it.

Then on Friday, Pete, Joy and Baby Zoe came into town!! So, of course, we went swimming and I got to buy Zoe her first swimsuit and which of course then needed sunglasses and a swim hat and sunblock and swim diapers and ... well I love Target. Look how cute Zoe is in her suit!! (um, ps, i didn't buy that orange hat to go with the suit. the cute pink hat i bought was too big).



Friday night was awesome too because my old roommate from Waco whom I haven't seen in probably five years or so, drove down with her boyfriend from Dallas (she recently relocated from Colorado to the Dallas area). Too cool! It was amazing seeing her and she bought me the cutest pair of jammies from Vicky's Panty Land because she loves me :) Thank you, Cat!!



Saturday was rain, rain and more rain but i didn't mind because my flowers and plants (even the cacti) were singing all afternoon they were so happy.

Sunday at church a couple of my students and young adults gave me gifts like, "Looking Good for Jesus Lip Balm" (thanks Katherine) and "If it has tires or testicles there's going to be trouble" napkins and coasters. Ah... they know me so well.

Monday was my actual birthday day and I started it off with therapy at 8am. That's right people, I arose at 7AM to go see my counselor and pay her $85 to tell me I have problems on my birthday. Just kidding. About the problems part. I don't really. Just one or two issues I'm working through. i call it being self-aware...

For lunch, my roommate and my colleague and I went to OPAL's, my favorite, for lunch. I, of course, had my usual, a Bloody Mary and a tuna sandwich. YUM. I went home and found FLOWERS from Moxi in DC on my front porch. Awesome! After a nap, I packed my clothes for Chile and headed back to work for Deacon's Meeting which is actually much more tolerable on your birthday because you're having a great day and it's easy to laugh and it makes one less judgmental and antsy and irritated when people talk for too long.

Two and a half hours later (seriously people. we have long deacon mtgs.) I ate a delicious dinner prepared by Chris (and saved for me since Michelle and baby-in-belly have to eat earlier) and then he, Ben, Bethany and I all went out for a drink at Dulce Vita. (I made Chris call a bunch of restaurants to see which ones served Mudslides because I am convinced that one must have ice cream on one's birthday and combined with alcohol, it doesn't get much better). We played Spades and Ben and I won and then we retired because I was tired cause i had to wake up at 7am that morning.

And always trying to stretch out a birthday as long as i can, yesterday I got to choose where to eat for lunch with the staff (a birthday tradition) and I chose Romeo's which not only has amazing pasta but also gives you a free Sundae for birthday girls!!! Yes!!!

So, people, my birthday was awesome. Thanks to all my friends whom I hope I got to celebrate as much as I was celebrated this weekend. You are the best and I love you. Old and New. And thanks to all the people on FB who wrote on my wall. It was awesome reading, "You have 99 Notifications."

31 is for winners. I can feel it...

Theta Iota Rho...

Not many women probably say that they received a muumuu for their thirtieth birthday.

But I can.

Tonight, my roommate and I were lured to a friend's house under the pretense that said friend wanted to invite her Reverend friends over and discuss how one can help further the call of female ministers.

Ugh. A really busy week, but okay. I agreed to go to this a long time ago. So, we were off.

When we arrived, two other friends (non-reverends) were getting out of their car. This should have perhaps tipped me off. It didn't. I mean, don't most experts in Congolese government want to discuss women in ministry?

"Can I take your purse?" our host said. "No thanks, we're just heading off to have dinner anyway, I'll just keep it."

She took all the other purses to the back room.

Once inside, we waited for the third reverend to show up and when she did, I expected that we would be off. Instead we all just sat looking at our host who was exchanging glances with two other women in the room. "Should we tell them?" she asked.

The four of us not involved in the eye exchange (the three reverends and the Congo expert) exchanged glances of our own.

As it turned out, the four of us were not invited over to discuss the future of women in ministry (or to play dominoes as African Queen was told), rather we were invited by our "sisters" to celebrate belatedly, our thirtieth birthdays. Yep, All four of us had turned 30 within a month of each other and the sisters thought that rather than let us wallow in misery, they would invite us into the sisterhood of the over-thirty and offer their wisdom to us, and yes, initiate us into their club.

No wonder they took away the purses. They held our car keys and thus our means of escape. And as our hosts scurried into the back room to get ready for whatever they were up to, we realized I still had mine. "Hide it. We might need it!"

Now, I can't tell you all the workings of the Sisterhood, they're secret you know, but suffice it to say, we four initiates received "robes," wisdom, and even a plaque. We sang songs, were advised on crow's feet and encouraged to do something monumental and challenging in honor of this year, like say, run a marathon... riiiiiight.

But, truth be told, our friends made the thirties look really good. And for all the guffawing, we had some serious moments too: failure comes in this decade, unfulfilled expectations, health issues... It was a very tender, insightful time.

And afterwards, we all stood in a circle with arms crossed (right over left) holding on to each other's pinkies and heard that great poem by Jones (i think) about growing old and wearing purple. I love that poem.

And then we went to Luby's.

In the muumuus.

O god.

At least we wouldn't run into anyone we knew at Luby's. That was for sure.

But we still got plenty of looks. And two little kids who were leaving as we were coming, turned around and went out a different door. Geez. Did we look that bad?

Yes. Yes we did. Muumuu should be spelled Moo-Moo because most of us looked like fat cows. (I say most because one of us was granted a muumuu that was actually okay save for the wings underneith the armpits and one actually owned a muumuu and it was cute on her too).

Needless to say, I will not be posting pictures.

But thank god for surprise parties and friends and turning thirty.

This will be the best decade yet...

29 And No Longer Counting!

My birthday week, or weeks (week before and week after!), went well. Only 349 days until I'm 30, but surely no one's counting, right?

I tried to make it festive, to celebrate myself by buying really cool shoes, dining with friends and family, and of course a party.

The last party I threw was for a friend who was 5 years cancer-free, and to make things more exciting, I had a bonfire.



So for this party I had to up the anty just a little. Nothing does that better than FURNITURE to sit on AROUND the bonfire. Mmm hmm.





And since I had a freezer full of peeps after I was pranked, pink yellow and purple marshmellows were provided as an alternative to smores and proved even more entertaining when thrown in the fire where "look mom, the bunnies are all dying," became the quote of the night. I could have done without that.

But there were also the typical party elements as well... cupcakes.






and beer...






and snacks...






and johnson stealing my camera...



and of course friends... the very best part

Um so this is about 12 days late. I'm definately getting behind on my birthday blogs. In fact, I may nix them come January. But I've got one more worthy shout out before I do.

Here is a limerick for Lynnette on her belated birthday.

Lynnette is funny and wise.
Too busy to make fancy pies.
We both went to Truett;
We both got through it,
But we'll never be pastor's wives!

So that was weird, but I tried.

Lynnette, I miss you. See you... well, I don't know when I'll see you again. Hopefully before I get married or pigs fly.

love,
ann

Dear Julie, Happy belated Birthday, I love you...

Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday and thank-you-for-staying-at-my-house-last-night-when-i-thought-a-burgler-had-broken-in-even-though-it-turned-out-there-was no-burgler-Frank, Happy Birthday to you!

Happy Birthday Amy! One week ago today, just seven days shy of your 27th birthday, you ran 26 miles in your first marathon! You are truly amazing, not to mention resiliant. I love you. Hope this next year just keeps getting better Dr. Pittman. You can do it! Remember Trekain in College? Run for your life. It's true, it's yours...

Okay, so I know this is the week of birthdays, (and i did't even do my cousin robbie's on the 19th), but here's another birthday shout-out to my former roommate, Mel. She used to be my partner in crime when it came to dating, not that either of us actually enjoyed juggling our dating schedules, but she's since left me on my own in that department. So rude. JK, Mel, I love you - have a most amazing birthday!

Happy Birthday Lanceous. You deserve the very best; I love you. Always remember the mac n cheese in my tiny back apartment and wine on the large front porch. You're my favorite.

Happy Birthday Potter! Potter woke me up at 5:30a.m. (I went to bed an hour and a half late last night and Potter adjusted his schedule accordingly). I discovered that instead of knocking things off my vanity he was attacking the bag hanging on my bedroom door. That bag held the mice I bought for him. Realzing that is was indeed his birthday, I slid out of bed, grabbed the bag, ripped open the package of mice and threw some out the door for him to chase. Of course, he did. I shut the bedroom door and slept for the few hours those mice kept Potter busy.

He really is a joy though. Potter makes me and my friends laugh all the time. If ever there's a lull in conversation, Potter's right there to run into a table, gnaw on our toes or pass gass in our faces. Love that cat. Love him. Love his crossed eyes peering up at me, love how he loves to be pet all over, love how he loves to pretend to be a mink hanging around my neck. He's a blessing, and I never use that word.

So Happy Birthday Pottery Barn, Ponce de Leon, Pothead, Gunter Gatsby...Potter. Mommy loves you.