New Favorites

I am no Oprah, but I do have a few new favorite things that I want to share.  Sorry.  I will not be giving all readers keys to a new car or a cruise to Australia.  However, you could find something new that just might bring a little joy to your life.

New Favorite Album:  Waitress by Meaghan Farrell. I love her raw voice.  I want to be as cool as her.  We sang at the same benefit a few years ago and I said to myself that this girl needs to be heard.  Now you can buy her album on itunes.  I have been cooking to it for weeks now.
Check out her video here. I love "Lost in My Life"... she sings "sing away all the pain"- I can relate to that lyric. And "Waitress" is perfect for any of us who have waited tables. Smart, quirky and positive!!!!

New Favorite Recipe: Minestrone with Roasted Veggies and Whole Grain Pasta. I know it's not very sexy.   I am not usually a big minestrone fan.  But I loved this!!!!  I have been on a veggie roasting kick since the blizzard and I think that's the secret to this great tasting not too tomatoey soup.  Even better as left-overs!!

40 minutes prep/serves 8

3 medium zucchini, diced

2 large carrots, peeled and chopped

2 red bell peppers, seeded and chopped

2 Tbsp olive oil

   Salt and pepper

4 c low-sodium veg broth

1 28 oz can diced tomatoes, undrained

1 15 oz canred kidney beans, undrained

1 tsp dried oregano

2 c cooked small whole grain pasta shells

1. Preheat oven to 475 degrees

2. Place zucchini, carrots, and bell peppers in a large roasting pan. Toss with oil.  Season with salt and pepper to taste.  Roast veggies for 20 to 25 minutes, stirring occasionally, until lightly browned and tender.  Set aside.

3. In a large soup pot, combine broth with tomatoes with their juice and undrained beans.  Stir to combine.  Add oregano.

4.  Bring mixture to a boil.  Reduce heat to medium low.  Add roasted vegetables.  Simmer for 15 minutes, stirring occasionally.

5. Stir in cooked pasta and adjust seasonings. Serve immediately.

New Favorite Book:  This Is Not The Story You Think It Is... A Season of Unlikely Happiness 

                                   by Laura Munson

I couldn't put this book down.  She not only speaks my language about choosing happiness and not letting outstanding circumstances take away your joy, but she lives in the most beautiful place I have ever been that got under my skin ( in a good way) last summer.  I feel a kindred spirit with her.  I suggest following her blog too.  She is also a frequent writer for The Huffington Post.  If you only read one book this year, this should be it.  I put it on reserve at my library and read it for free.

Old Favorite Coffee:  Cafe Bustelo. The best cheap coffee ever.  I can even find it at Wal-Mart in OKC.

Share your favorite things.

Oh, Max!!

A while back, we had an incident in our home with our dog.  We have a rescued beagle, Max, age @ 12 years,  with many food issues and the "incident" was a biggie.  Peanut and I had just made some yummy curry chicken salad with the help of Trader Joe's. (Oh, how I miss you TJ's). We had eaten the delectable salad in a wrap, flour tortilla to be specific.  Max loves most foods, except for bananas and oranges.  These are the only safe foods for Peanut to snack on without our guidance, or she would probably draw back a bloody knub.  I feel as though I should say, for those of you who have not met him, that he really is a sweet dog.  He will snuggle with you and keep you warm. And he always seems to know when to give you love when your heart is a bit sad.  However, on this dreadful day, he decided to jump up and reach for the flour tortillas, which just so happened to be underneath the Pyrex bowl of curry chicken salad.  He was successful in acquiring the plastic bag of tortillas and realized he had gained a big bonus of a bowl of chicken salad.  The Pyrex bowl shattered on our tile floor and Max proceeded to ingest the entire contents, large chunks of Pyrex included.  I will stop here to say that I honestly believe this will be Peanut's first memory that she will share with her therapist, which I fully support, in years to come.  I am a mess, looking at Max's blood all over the floor as he continues to devour whatever he can.  At this point, I am begging Peanut to,  "Please go watch Dora!!!".    I call my husband in a panic who is working almost 200 hundred blocks away, which in Manhattan means  he is easily a half hour or more away.   Fast forward, 2 surgeries and $5,000 later.  Yes, that's five thousand.  He was a miracle dog.  After removing large shards of glass, the vets could not believe he survived.  

Well, here we are again. Today, I am feeling a bit under the weather,  but felt the need to organize the cupboard with the peanut butter jar.  If there's anything Max loves much more than curry chicken salad, it's peanut butter.  Bread is first, but peanut butter is a very close second.  I dropped the glass peanut butter jar on our tile floor and Max was right there to take advantage of the situation.    I yelled, " If you eat this glass, you are dying this time!!!"  I am not proud of this moment.  But I had hit my limit with this dog today.  I remember right after I gave birth to Peanut, a very honest friend referred to our dog saying, "Don'tcha love him just a little bit less?".  It's kinda true.  He did get much lower on the totem pole. However, today, I was reminded that I was not just speaking, okay, yelling at my dog.  I was yelling at Peanut's dog.  I broke her heart a little today.  Oh yeah, I should add, we interceded in time and no glass was ingested, that we are aware of.  But I could tell she was sad to the edge of tears. I apologized to her for saying that to Max, admitting that it was wrong and she so sweetly said, "Even when you yell at Max, I still love you."  Oh, do you hear the cracking of my heart?  I honestly want to give him away at least twice a week or more.  But then he snuggles up to me at night and I forgive him.  More importantly, Peanut snuggles up to him and loves on him and he just takes it so sweetly.  So disaster averted and lesson learned.  He's not just my dog anymore.  

I Am Woman, Hear Me Roar!

Not long after I gave birth to Peanut, I found myself frustrated that I was so unprepared for just how hard motherhood was.  Now that 4 1/2 years have passed, I realize this sounds so naive.  But I was genuinely appalled that in the midst of conversations about soft pink blankets, birthing plans, breast feeding, and nipple cream no one mentioned crazy hormones that make you think you have lost your mind, sleep deprivation that impairs so many, many things, and just a general sense of madness that I might/would feel. Not friends, family, or doctors. Not even the numerous books I read.  I guess they assumed I knew it already, or they had already forgotten what it was like, right along with the horrific birthing pain.
About  a year and a half ago, I has a miscarriage... another topic no one discusses. We were devastated. I had dear friends that I had known forever share their same experience with me, after the fact. I had no idea. I get it.  It is a touchy, very personal and painful subject. I got the sense, though, that there was an air of shame surrounding such a loss, from so many. I continued to ask myself, "Why doesn't anyone talk about it?"
Well, here I am again.  Only now I am showing signs of perimenopause.  My hormones have been absolutely ridiculous and have lead to irrational thinking, self-loathing, fatigue and a fluctuating libido.  It feels a bit like post-pregnant life.  But it has taken me by surprise.  You see I am 39 years old, but I still feel 28.  And I was still trying to get pregnant. I am less appalled because I am on the younger end of these symptoms and many of my friends may not yet be there at all.  I also come from a very conservative, discreet family that doesn't talk about such subjects often.  But I have been in many female dressing rooms and not heard much on the subject, except maybe an occasional hot flash complaint. I have made a Dr.'s appointment to check things out and get more info.  To me, knowledge is most definitely power when it comes to my health.
The challenge is to get us talking now. (Cue Helen Reddy music) We are a sisterhood.  We are also a family of brothers and sisters who will inevitably have some woman in our lives going through any one of these feminine phases sooner or later.  I want to take away any shame and encourage frank discussions about being a woman, and understanding the women in our lives, especially ourselves.

Using My Periscope

I want to share with you a recent interview a friend of mine did with Jane Pauley.  His name is Tripp Hanson and he has inspired me for the entire 10 plus years of our friendship.  We met when he was a very accomplished triple threat in the Broadway community. At the time, we both lived in a NJ suburb of NYC.  We'd watch each others dogs, share many bottles of wine, and quite often discuss our life journey. During the course of our friendship, he began to study acupuncture and eventually would work on both me, for allergies and infertility, and Husband, for various injuries incurred by being a Broadway dancer.  As I have been searching a path for my next phase of post-Broadway life, I have almost daily thought of Tripp and his courage to leap.

In his interview, Tripp speaks of "putting up your periscope to see what grabs you."  I loved that.  What a perfect way to describe that openness to seek out what intrigues you.  I hope you'll take a few minutes to watch this.  He's adorable and Jane is obviously and understandably smitten with him.  May you also be inspired and encouraged to put up your periscope.

Date Night Is Not Just For Nerds

I used to think that the nerdiest phrase in the English language was "Date Night".  I'd imagine a frumpy-ish woman, in her fresh pressed front-pleated khakis, cardigan sweater, and sensible hairstyle, going to dinner with her comb-over husband.  I never understood why people felt this bizarre need to name such an event.  Why can't they just "go out"?
Then I had a child.
When Peanut was an infant, I still held this judgement toward a planned night out between a husband and wife.  Well, I didn't judge the night, just the title.  I held the belief that we didn't need to be so rigid.  We could still be spontaneous.  But as Peanut got older and time to connect with Husband got smaller,  I found that I was actually jealous of said "date nights".  That's because we were never just going out and being spur of the moment.  I also realized that none of the ladies I knew who were going on "date night" even owned a pair of khakis.  : )
Date night is give its own title because it is actually a huge deal to a couple with children.  It's also a huge dent to the pocketbook.  Much bigger than any dent a date made pre-child.  Childcare cost at least doubles the expense of the night, especially in NYC when travel time is, at the very minimum, one hour of the outing.  And to be honest, it's a huge deal because we get to have an uninterrupted conversation, eat yummy gourmet food, drink heavily, and maybe even make out in the cab ride home.  I don't know about you, but all of those things just don't tend to happen in my house in one night. That's not a complaint or a strike against Husband, because I love all the other nights of my life with him and Peanut.  But finding the time and funding to "date" is not as easy as I used to think.  Husband and I try to take advantage of visiting grandparents without being too abusive so that we might whisk away for some alone time.  We also try to have post-putting-Peanut-to bed date nights in home, as well.  Yet, dates are still too few and far between in this economy and life schedule.
I now hold this once square name in high regard.  I love "date night".  So what, if it is not spontaneous.  Sometimes, planning time to be together, says so much more.
Here's to a Happy Valentine's Day, no matter where or how it was celebrated!!!

I Miss Exit Applause

Back in my Broadway The-a-tuh days, I was lucky to be in the very talented and generous company of Beauty and the Beast.  I played Silly Girl #1.  There were three "Sillies" and we were the desperate yet comedic tramps who swooned for Gaston's attention.  Our part wasn't huge.  We didn't even get our own bow at the curtain call. Boo! But it was really fun.  The three of us  had to work closely and feel and feed off each other to create anything remotely funny. We were a bit like the Three Stooges with great cleavage.  Lots of bumps, faints, trips, etc.  Every now and then, as we would exit from our scene, we could here some gratitude from the audience in the the beautiful form of exit applause.  Exit applause, in my opinion, is quite different from entrance applause, or end of the show applause.  Entrance applause often is bestowed upon celebrities or well-known theatre royalty, as a way of saying, "Yay!  We are glad to see you."  But it is not always given because  the actor is an outstanding talent, though there are many who are.  End of the show applause is polite.  Even at the worst show I have ever seen, which shall remain nameless, I still applauded, because I am nice.  Exit applause says, "Man, that was so good I want you to know right now, even if it slows down the next entrance."  At least that's what it said to me.

To be honest, I miss it.  I have a small circle of people that I see each day. My husband, my daughter, my boss, and various customers in the boutique where I work part-time.  They are all great and supportive people, don't get me wrong.  I am lucky to have them.  My life right now just doesn't have many exit applause worthy moments.  And I will admit, I am needier for this validation than others.

So for now, I will relish in my memories of multiple hands clapping together for  me and my other two Sillies,  and manifest more exit applause worthy moments in my new life.

As Long As It's Not Life-Threatening

Last November,  I was waiting so patiently for a fertility doctor's appointment and grabbed a random magazine to flip through. I was trying to avoid the numerous pregnant women who seem to unknowingly taunt my barren womb as they approach the receptionist's desk with their glow.  I buried my head in Working Mother and read an article about Samantha Bee.  She is a writer for The Daily Show and author of I Know I Am, But What are You? She's a comedian and mother of three small children.  Really cool chick.  Seems like someone I'd enjoy.  I was extremely intrigued when asked about her parenting style. Here's her response:

   There's no "bad cop" in the household.  We're very laid-back.  We tend to think about things in stark terms. If it's not life-threatening, we let the kids do it. 

Often feeling like the "bad cop", I couldn't believe what I had just read.  My friend and fellow blogger calls it "hard core parenting".  Check her out! Seriously? You just let them do it.  There's no lesson to be taught? What about boundaries? So I go home to discuss this point of view with "good cop" husband.  He agrees with the comedian.
So I decided to give it a try.  I realized how much I was trying to control my daughter's behavior.  And I understood why I was so exhausted at the end of most days.  It's a losing battle.  They are going to be who they are going to be. I have a few friends back in our old neighborhood who seem to have this laissez-faire approach down.  And truthfully, their children are gems.  They are smart and funny and have good manners.  As I began to stop white-knuckling my hold on Peanut's behavior, I realized that she mostly made the right choices.  When she didn't, it wasn't necessary for me to pound the lesson in her brain. She got it.  Most importantly, I enjoyed being a parent even more.  I assume she must have enjoyed her not-nagging-as-much mother too.
I still feel like "bad cop" when I continuously have to remind everyone that it is bath time.  But I see how she deeply enjoys her time with her dad, because he is focused on her and not her behavior. I am learning to choose my parenthood battles and continually tell myself that as long as it's not life-threatening, I guess it's okay. Looks like I still have many lessons to learn too.

There's Snow Business like Show Business

One thing I have learned in the past year away from my theatre life in New York City is,  "you can take the girl out of the most stimulating, creative city, but you can't take the need for such stimulation and creativity out of the girl."  Okay, it's wordy, and probably doesn't merit quotation marks, but I think you get what I am saying. This was never more evident to me than last week when most of America was holed up in their homes for an ungodly number of days due to ridiculous amount of snow and ice.  At first, I thought it was great.  I had been wanting to do some painting, so I slapped on the rest of a sample bucket of paint (Deep Sea Dive) we had on our new living room wall.  Just three more to go, when I can get my butt to the paint store again.  Felt great.  I cooked like a maniac, promptly cleaned up afterward and again felt so calm and productive.  By Friday, day 4, I was in need of much more than domestic duties.  I viscerally needed to be creative, beyond homemade soup. Beyond finger painting and sand art with my 4 year old daughter.  I felt close to losing my mind.  So, my little peanut (the 4 year old) and I went outside to play in the snow.  She had absolutely no interest in a snow man.  She pulled a baby doll around on a make-shift sled, while I focused on my snow man like Michelangelo on David.  This wasn't just for fun.  I literally felt I needed this snow man to clutch me with his stick arm and hold me back from the brink of insanity.  I find it funny now that I referred to David, as my creation was  a little phallic at first.  So I began an attempt to create a more Dolly Parton snow lady. She's nothing fantastic.  Quite simple, actually.  But she saved me that day.  Peanut had long gone inside before I was done.  Dolly was the first snow lady I had ever built on my own.
Just a reminder of how necessary it is to stay in touch with our creative side, no matter what may get in our way. Six to ten inches are forecasted for Wednesday.  But even more importantly, how vital it is to create something just for yourself before we fall of the edge.

Superbowl????

I confess.  My idea of a "super bowl" is about 12 inches in diameter and is full of buttery popcorn and m-and-m's.  Heaven!  I am not a super bowl fan.  Though I can certainly appreciate the athletic talents and the discipline that is required, I just don't get the mania.  Acting like maniacs for complete strangers kind of escapes me. Honestly, there is no judgement when I say that.  I have dear, dear friends that get very worked up over team athletics.  Sunday matinees at "Beauty and the Beast" were full of offstage inquiries, "Did they score?", "Who's winning?", or "La,la,la,la! (With fingers in HER ears) Don't tell me, I have it DVRed." Now, it's not like I didn't grow up around football fans. I have vivid memories of many a Sunday afternoon nap after church being interrupted by my brother (Happy Birthday, Tim!) and my Dad yelling at the TV at "the stupid ump". Oh wait, I think it was the "stupid ref."And I did go through a, be it ever small, Cowboy fan phase when Troy Aikman was still handsome to look at.  I mean, let's admit, he looks like he's been through a few "Rocky" movies now.
The only thing I can relate to this madness of this special football Sunday is The Tony Awards, the super bowl of Broadway. Man, what a dream it would be if everyone, not just the gays and theatre nerds, threw Tony tailgate parties with gourmet hors d'ouevres and unrestrained fervor.  While I can honestly appreciate the celebration of a strangers gifts and talents, I just don't see me turning red faced, yelling at Patti LuPone on the TV, "Enunciate!!!!".  Though, I did give a controlled whoot-whoot when she won her Tony for Rose in "Gypsy".
So tonight, I will be watching the commercials and cleaning the kitchen during the game. I will pop my own version of a Super Bowl and smile thinking of all my crazy fan friends, knowing at least some of them will like the end results.  Then I will happily watch Glee.

Blog-Way Debut

I welcome you to the first blog of my life.  Well, I have been entertained, inspired and informed by various blogs for about a year now, but this is my "Blog-way Debut".  Clever?  OK, more like corny.  But that's me.  I am an actress, mother, wife, daughter, sister, friend, talker, thinker, vegetarian, and recovering sugar addict who was lucky enough to make her living as a working actor on Broadway from my late twenties to mid-thirties.  I loved every second of it, in hindsight.  While I was there, I hate to admit that I took it much too much for granted.  I mean, it IS a job.  A job that requires, for the most part, that you continue to be a job-seeker even if you have a pretty secure one.  And one I tired of from time to time. However, the theatre community of New York City is this wonderful, colorful, and embracing family that I adore and I will always feel like I am a member. 
Well, marriage and kid, I mean, LIFE has lead me away from that stage to my honestly wonderful home of Oklahoma City.  And now I contemplate, "Hmmmm.  Where does my journey take me from here?"  I have lived my dream of moving to NYC, roughing it, paying dues, making the best of friends, and working on The Great White Way (those last 4 words should be read with fancy accent). What now?  
So I invite you to join me on my journey as I contemplate, joke, rant, and hopefully, inform and inspire.  Oh and by the way, I turn 40 this year, which I will celebrate to the highest!