Adventures of a Drama Teacher

{January 7, 2012}   2012 I have been waiting for you

Fabulous Fridays flee fast and furious.

Happy New Year! And as usual it is always a busy one for me. The Tragic Tale of the Dane demands my attention; well, teaching in general demands my attention. I have one assignment left to knock out to finish my 45 hour SEI class, which as usual I learned something from and rather enjoyed though it stole quite a few (3 days holed up wearing my flannel  RED pajamas, on my “Princess Bed” {so my son calls it},  with my laptop reading and planning and writing  and hop, skip and a jumping through what we teachers call flaming red hoops). Again, I enjoyed it and have one of my student aids making me up a Spanish cognate board with theatre terms to give some color to my blackbox theatre style classroom. Today was one of those perfect days as an educator. All my days are a whirlwind of pinball action, improv, experience and performance. Every child I interact with, I enjoy their company. I love to watch them grow as human beings. Fridays we play paperball and do improv and perform. I have quite a few unique students this year, I love them all. Tomorrow, I am on a theatre run as I do before each show. The depot, the fabulous fabric store and Fun City for stage make-up and guns (ideas? I don’t know as we’re vacillating on the appropriate way to portray this part of our play with recent tragic events at school).

I am happy as the new-year brings. Excited for my classes each day, excited for every new play. Into the Woods is after Hamlet. The end of the school year will be next. I hope to finish Red, aka Buying My Way into Heaven, rough draft by the end of the school year, (I actually initiated my guitar player from Shambala into the writing team today, excited, excited, excited as he is on my passion project team in my Creative Writing class so now we can write the libretto as we write the dialogue and story too. We are still libretto poor for Shambala which that, and the rights search, are holding us up!

We had lovely Australian students visiting today, they were beyond adorable. One of my Creative Writing students whom used to be one of my drama students brought her Australians into the Theatre 2 class just so they could experience the Zoo Woe and another one of my warm-ups. And in theatre 1 we had the two blond Auzzie boys start off our Speak the Speech with Australian accents. What a delight!

007 is off again on a secret mission which gives me the liberty to put all my passion into teaching and writing and all the other fun and exciting activities I engage in like painting my French doors, reading Halo with my son or visualizing my next writing project; maybe a Romance Novel!

The only downer for me is I have a sullen teen. Ah, life cannot be without at least one woe.


{November 20, 2011}   That Most Memorable Christmas

That most memorable Christmas

The main reason the job of life scanning is so overwhelming is: each photo takes you on a “Cold Case”, so-to-speak, in the aspect of deciphering the exact time the photo was taken. Then your mind wanders and the nostalgia pours in. Stories are ignited.

A batched scan job of one of my mother’s things; a collage of memories from the 70s. I decide to keep the ones that came out and re-scan the others. So the first photo takes me to Boring Oregon. Must be late October or early November 1970 as my sister was born, as per my wishes to Jesus, and she is pretty little here, but not a drooling newborn. Where Touché Turtle is the cartoon in the background, the TV is in the spot in our little red and white cottage where my parents erected the 12 foot flocked tree with cerise ornaments described in the previous entry. I remember those big windows. My neighbors were Theresa and Tracy Dempsey and this was down a little gravel road off of Bluff Road. Indians lived a little further down the way. We didn’t hang with them. Too bad, now I would totally dig hanging with Native Americans! I have some great students who are native and friend Rene and a few others. But off on a tangent I go.

At this Boring house, we had these gigantic inner tubes that we rolled around in, on, jumped in, on, stacked and generally abused, like kids do. We called them the Giant Donuts. We played outside a lot. I learned to ride a bike here. That Christmas too, I was in the pageant at school and all I remember is playing a doll. My mom made me up. After the show Santa was there in the Cottrell Grade School gym/stage/auditorium and when it was my turn to sit on his lap I observed, that Santa’s costume was not complete, he’d forgotten his gloves and he had a bandage on his thumb in the same place my daddy cut his thumb. Boo ya, I was putting two and two together BEFORE those Santa stifling students informed me the hard Santa facts!

Alright, I gotta go for a run. That’s my nostalgic tangent for the day. Here comes Santa Clause, here comes Santa Clause right down Santa Clause Lane…

{November 13, 2011}   Random Christmas Cheer!
Sam Romey & Tomi Griffin & Mo

2004 My Mardi Gras Tree


I never really was religious. I wasn’t baptized; my parents’ idea of church was one Christmas with family-friends and their children (maybe those photos still exist and I will find them in my scanning quest, and I’ll reunite with those old friends {Theresa Corkill} on Facebook). I went to a Baptist Kindergarten where I colored pictures of Jesus with my friend Debbie Dodson. I prayed to Jesus once to make my paper doll into a real baby. Not long after, my sister was born, and I believed. I still believed in Santa that Christmas too.

1970 Still Magic



I remember the last Christmas I truly believed. It was magic!

I was all of six; we lived in the bromidic little town of Boring Oregon. Our tree must have been at least twelve feet tall, completely flocked in winter white, decked out with shinning cerise ornaments. My first themed arbor.

My parents always perpetuated the innocent charade. As we went over the river and through the woods to Grandmother’s house, we searched overhead for signs of the Cardinal Fat Man. Flashing illuminations in the December sky instilled the fantasy further.

Early to bed, I was the first to awaken Christmas morning; I laid there too frightened to move for fear of disturbing the fat man in the act of arranging his magical display of desired goodies. Eventually I made a bee-line to my parents’ room without even the slightest glance toward the enchanted living room. Not too much time elapsed before my parents lead us unto the fantasia.

That year I received a Baby Catch-a-Ball, an Easy-Bake Oven, my favorite doll of all time, Theresa my black baby, and a doll, almost as big as me, that strapped to my feet and danced with me.

I now realize why people believe in Jesus. It’s the innocent magic of believing, like Santa. Or is it ignorant bliss?

I was enlightened soon after that Christmas by kids at the bus stop. I argued my belief like a Born-Again Christian.

Once the truth was out the magic was gone.

I went to vacation Bible School in the second grade; that was fun, it was what all the kids were doing, all the rage; and I accompanied different friends to their various houses of worship over the years. I visited the Mormon Church when I was infatuated with Donny Osmond and the Catholic Church when it was Jerry Destremps (who btw I believe is Buddhist now), the Lutheran Church with my friend Doreen in hopes of running into a teenage crush on Mt. Hood. I would say, and did say in my first religion class at St. John’s International school in 1976 with Br. Brennan, that I learned my Jesus stories from Andrew Lloyd Webber (On Thursday night you will find him where you want him. Far from the crowds, in the garden of Gethsemane) I don’t remember our Br. Brennan’s response to that, I think it was. “Give that girl a fish!”  I am surprised at myself for being in such Christmas spirit this year. It’s not that I have ever been “Bah Humbug” but circumstances have dictated the past several years that I haven’t partaken in the traditional holiday decorating and much anticipated tree ritual.

This year is special. I am studying the Bible for the first time. I am an educator so I am finally reading it cover to cover. I must say it is not what I expected so far and we’ll leave it at that. But, I am still in the Old Testament.  I am writing a musical about people finding Jesus, so I guess I best be reading and studying fast so I can get to the New Testament and help my characters get to the end of the play. I bought tree decorations today. My theme this year RED-for the blood of Christ (part of my play).  I may even go Christmas crazy and do another themed tree in the family room! Within my study and new enlightenment, just for the record, I now think people believe in Jesus for other reasons than innocent magic.

{October 8, 2011}   I DREAM

Inside the bottle

I wanted to be Jeanie. Growing up in the 70s that was the thing. I was overly dramatic, I suppose, then too. I vividly remember pretending in my room that I was locked in my bottle by my master. It wasn’t so bad, yeah, Barbara Eden’s character was vexed a time or two by the imprisonment. But man, I always thought, “I WANT to be in THAT  BOTTLE!” My fantasy room, the shiny, the sparkle, the subtle 70s sexual innuendo. I could imagine the satin, the colors, the textures. Stereotypically girls want to be a Princess or Queen of their own country (marry a Prince) but No, I wanted to be dominated by a flyboy. A goofy-ass flyboy.

I am intrigued I had never reflected too much on my childhood Jeanie obsession before, what with the myriad of journal topics and activities I have done with my students over the years. I mean stuff like, “What celebrity would play you, in a movie about your life?” and “Who is your celebrity crush?” I don’t have one now, really,  that I can think of, so I told my kids, Donny Osmond, because that is the very first celebrity crush I ever had, and which prompted my purple passion which leads me back to my Jeanie obsession.

Since moving into, and remodeling and decorating, this house with my goofy-ass flyboy spouse, I have nearly completed my dream bedchamber. And the more I dance around it deep in reflection, listening to either the randomness of Saturday morning acoustic rock or Sammy Hagar letting my thoughts wander or concentrate on writing at hand, I realize my room is inside Jeanie’s bottle. The colors, the style, the textures! Satin and lace pillows. Surprisingly again, I have never googled Jeanie or Wikipediad before this date, but today I did, and sure enough this is where my style began. I guess I need to create a new costume for my repertoire. I have designed and built one of these before, The Apple Tree (Lady and the Tiger),  in high school. It wasn’t PINK though.

Future Fly-Boy?

The Grandbaby in my Jeanie Bed. Will he be a future Fly-boy/Pilot like his mama and grandpa? It is my baby’s birthday today, he is a teenager officially. Happy Happy Joy Joy, Oh happy day with joyous glee.

{September 8, 2011}   What to do?

Writers write. Yes, I write, I have been writing in between the writing for career ladder, and the new design templates we teachers have to do this year, reference letters, essays for Arizona Teacher of the Year, editing a puppet show and my passion project play using the musical stylings of Mr. Samuel Roy Hagar. So I fear my Blog has suffered to the extent that I probably won’t follow the guidelines of my Creative Writing students who presented “How to Write an Online Blog” and KISSS, keep it simple and somewhat  short.

In a nut shell, I am overwhelmed again with the fast and fury of the school year! I am blessed with humongous classes of wonderful teenagers eager to learn. Oh my, what a grand super-marchet of new raw talent, and the amusement we’re having creating an original Bread and Puppet style puppet show (that’s like 14 foot puppets for those of you who don’t know) in our outdoor amphitheatre in November, this show is for younger children and will center on bullying and solutions, our main stage show, Almost Maine,  I am producing and mentoring a student’s directing, getting ready for Shakespeare competition in Utah, directing Hamlet and mentoring a new student teacher. Take a breath Ms. G, take a breath. That is just a little bit of what my adventures have consisted of since returning from my summer spirit walk (sojourn to Alaska and back).

Lucky, yet unlucky, my other half is still working for the man, on the Alaska Marine Highway. I miss my days at sea I do. Although Sam does an entirely different job than I did, the life of a mariner is always an adventure. But it is what it is in the economy so he will be there for a few more weeks, anyway, we make it work somehow. But in his absence over the years I have perfected my craft enough to be nominated for Arizona’s Teacher of the Year. Silk purse into sow’s ear. Scratch that, reverse.  Our unconventional lifestyle has also allowed me the time and gives me the material to write. And kids, what do writers do? Writers write. How’s that for KISSS?

{July 12, 2011}   Remote LOVE

I woke to Sam’s call; off of watch and the need to stay another week on the Columbia Ferry working for the man. I was for-warned yet I was highly disappointed. But the day was blessed with sunshine and I took my upset-self out onto the deck to discover, like yesterday’s extreme giddy delight, another (or the same) pod of orcas dancing through our front yard as the Inner Island Ferry (not the one Sam is on) made its daily morning pass like clockwork. I guess Mo and I will ferry it again to Ketchikan Wednesday as the Columbia will be there for a few hours, take a tour of the Alaska Marine Highway cruiser with Sam, then we’ll spend another night with my good friend, and fellow across-the-bay neighbor, Taya, who works in town at a tourist shop during the summers.

 Sammy Hagar’s “Give to Live” started my day off and I spent more time than planned watching the whales dance, and skip; flipping as it they had just won the ocean’s lottery. Today I spotted at least three; yesterday’s delight, I cried I was in such extreme giddy, (forgive me but I have to say it was a whale-gasm) there were at least five of these, magnificent creatures of the sea, doing the whale bop nearest as I’ve ever seen them myself in our very yard, near Clark Bay on Prince of Wales. It makes me feel like I have won the lottery myself to have the grace of all majesty change my mood so quickly that it inspired such bold, warrior-princess-courage that Mo and I took the boat out and pulled the CRAB POTS!!!! BOO YA!!!!!! I caught crabs, the good kind. Sometimes, as my friend Noni touted today on her Facebook status, it’s just so flipping great to be me!

So, on the 4th Mo and I made our first courageous adventure in just taking the skiff to Hollis and then attempted to take our truck to the ferry terminal. But, alas, the newest addition to the used motor-vehicles Sam doctors, wouldn’t start (my bad, I, not having hands on experience with this rig, forgot what Sam had told me to do, sort of like growing up with my dad and the stand on one foot, hold your right pinky in the air and blink while you touch tinfoil to make things run) but we were saved by the local Taquan air lady and new friend, Sandra, who took Mo and I the two mile jaunt (I used to run this all the time with Matt) to the terminal and then picked us up when we got back from our over-night stay in K-town.

Although it was cold and miserable on our country’s independence day in Ketchikan, we watched the somewhat rinky-dink parade, Mo competed for candy and we were determined to have a great time as both Mo and I reminded ourselves of the Cold Wet Rainy Day we spent in Paris having fun. We did enjoy a Johnny Cash impersonator at the Fish Pirate Saloon and sat and looked at the cruise ships as I informed Mo of my days on the sea here in Alaska. Although the singer vocally mimicked The Man in Black, he himself had another physical look that was interesting with white hair and matching handlebar mustache. He took a break and the establishment played “Joy to the World” which is always a sign from the powers that be to me. We hiked around downtown looking for art, chocolate, and eventually saw a movie, Transformers, which I didn’t really like, but, hey, we were out of the rain. Then we proceeded to Taya’s pad and she and I stayed up all night, as girls do, chatting.

Another ferry ride (not the one Sam is on) and Mo and I made it back to Wolf Creek and I spent a day cleaning and painting; for Sam’s dad, step mom and guests came out and I played hostess for a day and a half, and a good one too, I made breakfasts, dinners etc. When they left, we preceded them in our skiff and I was surprised with giddiness at a whale diving down in front of Mo and I as we so boldly drove the boat to Hollis. When we got to the dock, I followed Sam’s instructions and Boo Ya made truck go and Mo and I traversed into Craig and had yummy, yummy pizza, did some shopping, and felt triumphant.

 But then today’s news; I am to be challenged without my mate for another week, that is okay because Sammy Hagar is with me, and “if you want love, you’ve got to give a little”. If it wasn’t such a warm day I’d be wrapped in my Sam’s (fluffy-puffy) shirt as I was immediately this morning after his call but before the fickle Southeast Alaska weather decided it would be a beautiful day, all day.

We are remote, but what a place to be; foxgloves are booming, The Red Rocker is crooning, whales are jumping, and we got crabs.

{June 23, 2011}   where eagles fly

Here I am it’s almost 5:00 AM but I have been awake awhile, playing on Facebook chatting with a good friend who is three times zones away in Texas. Why am I up so early? Many reasons: I am not on a particular schedule and I have exhausted myself with painting the old cabin. Four days and going so far; So I fell into bed early last night (again) in the hopes of reading 12th Night, or one of my other plays and or books etc I have going, and or, to write. But I guess that was not to be (again) as I was asleep before my head hit the pillow. And it is bloody light at night and too early in the morning so my physiology doesn’t really know what time it is!

So on the first day of Sam’s vacancy I mega cleaned the kitchen area of the old cabin whist listening to Sammy Hagar, mainly “Where Eagles Fly” which reminds me of Sam, and here at Wolf Creek, as eagles are continually flying past our windows and nesting in the trees ever so close to our house. You know the Dos Equis beer radio add? “His birdbaths attract eagles”. Well, they do.

I have missed 4 days of my glorious waterfall hike/dance/meditate to put my mind and body to the quest of old cabin clean-up. I know I will be happy with it when I am done and I continue the workout with the ever so contortionist positions I have to get myself into to paint, hence the exhaustion and early bedtimes. My body feels like it has been run over by a steam engine (like I really know).

Sam is off working on the ferries. He did come home for a two hour surprise visit yesterday (they were docked in Ketchikan for a few, he just hopped into the plane and flew over he did). Nice, nice addition to me day, but I did not finish the paint job therefore have at least another day of it (and that’s just the kitchen area!) I did mention to Sam that it now looks more like I live here than him and he ever so sweetly said, “What’s wrong with that?” It has been years since I have labored on this place (the past two summers we have been working on the new cabin). It was summer 2004 that I hand-made the window valances, and each year I add to the photo/picture frame history, but I have never painted it here and it needed it (although I must admit it wasn’t my idea, it was Sam’s. I have done enough painting lately, but I can’t resist a make-over and or a chance to decorate, so here I am).

After a day of painting to Sammy Hagar’s greatest hits according to me, Mo and I switched to shuffling the myriad of music my mate mixed unto mine ipod. Some of it I didn’t even know I had! I love the different places I am taken to with each different piece. Then marvelous Mo up/downloaded Michael Jackson’s Essentials, yeah! That’s what I get to listen to today, that and the sounds of the roaring creek making electricity, and the cries of the eagles and or other birds that are indigenous, or the passing float planes (If they are close enough I step out and wave, Mo says I should moon but… or should I say butt?). Every once in a while a boat passes, fishermen and or, the Inter Island Ferry twice a day (not the one Sam is on).

The funny thing about clean up around here, mostly dust, dirt and spider evidence, is when I leave a room I want to turn out the lights. Just habit from home in AZ where Steve Nash is there ready to beam you in the head with a basketball if you don’t conserve energy. Well here the water flows down hill whether we’re using it or not, so Sam prefers the lights left on in the house, something to do with regulating the electricity. (We can also let the water run if we want to, we can Steve).

When we take breaks and sit in our whale watching spot I remind Mo of our fortune. I remember sitting with a friend on an island off of Bellingham Washington once, and he said, “I wonder what the poor people are doing today?” Mo asked what that meant. It means we are lucky Mo.

I often dream I sail through the sky

I’ve always wished I could fly

The simple life of a bird on the wing

Oh Lord, I could sing

Take me away

Come on fly me away

Lift me up so high

Where eagles fly~ Sammy Hagar

Eagle's POV

“I’m on the inside, looking in, I’m on the inside, that’s where I been.” How do we chase our demons away? “There’s me, there’s him, there’s you and there’s us, all by the same name, so what’s the fuss?” ~Sammy Hagar.

I realize more than ever how much of my life I have successfully chronicled. I know there’s photos out there I have yet to discover and I have a new box (industrial size) waiting for me at my mother’s in Boring too. But now I am yet again sequestered in Alaska. There are some photos here that I have collected of the family in the scanning pile, they have to wait until Sam has time to scan them for me, then send ‘em over via the electronic highway. But in the meantime I am pursuing my passions, one of them learning photography myself. I have on several occasions, one which has been chronicled thus far in this odyssey of mine, been the photographer and stylist; with my sister’s friends, my friends and family, and friends, and students that are friends (yeah only friends will let friends dress them up and play model). Don’t get me wrong, I love, love being the model myself but it’s rather difficult to take a really good picture of oneself, oh it can be done, but it is difficult, so I use other people. Unfortunately my boys refuse to cooperate for the most part, claiming that they are not drama queens. But I eventually win and get a little modeling from them, eventually. So if I do not have cooperation at the time, or I am alone I search for wondrous pictures to take. Hence shoe art. My father always said, he did, “put people into your photographs otherwise it might as well be a postcard” and or “one can never really tell when the picture was taken without people in it”. Since I am model poor today, and the lighting isn’t right to take fabulous photos of myself and I am too lazy to set up my camera and timer (I need myself a tripod I do) I have been taking “My Boots” pictures on my iphone to document the glorious things I see whilst dance and exercising to Sammy Hagar and the likes of deserving Rock and Rollers. See facebook for photos.

Since the beginning this entry a few days ago, we have gone to the grandparents via the boat and truck, Mo and I learning how to drive both (Oh I am okay with the truck but not really comfortable with the boat and Mo had his first driving lesson in the truck which was great fun indeed {need another box of Clairol I do}) I have had several meditational trips to the waterfall, danced to the cabin, flew to Ketchikan for breakfast with our neighbor friends, and baited the long line (this is so much fun let me tell you, frozen herring with guts hanging out you have to put on these big hooks and your hand is so freezing you think you might stab yourself with the hook and scales and guts are falling all over your boots and our boat captain is not happy go lucky like The Skipper, he’s SURLY on the boat, oh it’s amusing but you gotta pay attention!}) Again, don’t get me wrong, I am not a wimp, I can fish along with the best of the girls (well maybe not THE BEST only cause I don’t want to, it’s gross). Speaking of gross, a mouse just ran across the counter!

I ordered Sammy Hagar’s book so I can finish reading it and write a musical with his work. I read an episode of Cold Case (research purposes for another script) and almost finished Othello again (just for the fun of it). My students are getting antsy; I must read the edited version of Twelfth Night my student director sent and put my two cents in and get to conceptualizing the show more completely. Sam is off on the Columbia Ferry tomorrow and it could be up to two weeks until he gets back so I’ll have more time to read and write. We set the line again this morning (not as gross with the herring I must have psyched myself out better) and we combed the Alaskan beaches after setting the crab pots. We are now working on the old cabin and I had to crawl under it to give Sam some tools, so all kinds of adventure going on here (spider bites to prove it!).

As I listen to the Red Rocker’s “ Inside Lookin’ In” again, I am reminded of the meditational exercises I have learned and have been using since joining Sam at his hypnotherapy study in Santa Fe, New Mexico a few years ago. Sure I meditated before with certain relaxation exercises I learned in acting classes, but now I can get myself completely in the moment. And here at Wolf Creek I am at peace. Maybe that’s how to chase the demons away Mr. Hagar. That, and take copious pictures.

P.S. We caught two halibut today!

We catch fish!

As Sammy Hagar’s “I’ll Fall in Love Again” plays over and over along with more of my Red Rocker favorites, I wander back in my mind to my days of Red. Most of the people I shared these days with are on Facebook, and or are still my friends, and they might remember when I wore crimson as much as I now where my paint overalls  (retired 2011). I loved Sammy, “I’ll Fall in Love Again” the first song to capture my attention and heart the summer of 1982 with my friends Gregg, Andrea, Brad Tebo, Cathlin Kennedy, Steve Brader, and my lovely sister gets added to this bunch as the summer of 83, me still in the midst of my complete surrender to the color, Tiff joined me and my actor friends (Duane, Paul, Sue-del, Cherie, Kevin, Cynthia etc) at Enchanted Forest Theater in Salem Oregon  for a week and during that week my friends Cathin, Gregg and Andrea, and I think Brad, came down and we all went to a Brian Adams, SAMMY HAGAR, and Journey concert in Eugene. Well, I enjoy Brian Adams, and will surely use “I’m Going to Run to You” and my sister and I LOVE, LOVE Journey’s “Loving, Touching, Squeezing” and it will also undoubtedly be used somewhere in my writings too, but it was The Red Rocker we all were there for. My sister exposed to heavy metal at a young age has grown to love the artist as well. She, Cathlin and I became upfront fanatics at that very concert (my toes ended up bloody as I had on sandals as we cut through the crowd just like a wedge to break down the barricade to reach the stage, can you feel the rage?”) I have since seen Sammy in concert two more times, one with my lovely step-daughter Dawna in Phoenix just weeks after I moved to AZ with my own Sam. Hmm, makes you wonder. Anyway, I would love to write a rock n roll musical using Sammy, or Hagar as a character, call it “Buying my way into Heaven”. Unfortunately my ruby phase was during a time in the Earth’s history that there was a cult in Oregon called Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh and these loving peoples wore red from head to toe too so after being associated with free love one too many times, I changed my red ways to an offshoot, PINK. Some of you might have noticed. Another memorable moment, not one I am proud of really, but memorable, when I worked on cruise ships one week I had gang way duty, (you know, “Welcome aboard Princess Cruises”) at 5:30 AM in Seward Alaska and a lot (or most) of the rest of the entertainment crew did not have duty in the wee early hours so therefore partied all night long in the halls keeping the ones of us who did, awake.!/photo.php?fbid=10150188924324512&set=a.10150161136329512.302547.586329511&type=1&theater So, and again I am not proud, when I got up to go to work, vindictively I blared Sammy’s “There’s Only One Way to Rock” as loud as I could in the entertainment hallway waking the late-night partiers as early as I had to get up. They were none too happy, but later complimented me on my song choice (I know I am such a wet blanket). Also working on cruise ships I got to visit Cabo Wabo several times,!/photo.php?fbid=10150170492599512&set=a.10150161136329512.302547.586329511&type=1&theater and my own Sam has taken me there once too.!/photo.php?fbid=10150182874119512&set=a.10150158974099512.301813.586329511&type=1&theater Sam and I are now trying to plan another special trip there, but as my mom joked with me just a few days ago, “Want to know how to make God laugh? Make a plan.” So maybe we will, maybe we won’t but it’s fun to dream. In the meantime I am enjoying The Red Rocker Sammy Hagar’s “I don’t Need Love” baking a cake that can only be associated with, “She’s on Fire” which I have always wanted to direct a video too. Sammy, I am saving my money to buy my way into Heaven because the gawds of rock-n-roll will be there. Oh you’re not there yet, I guess I better read your book.

Act III. Scene II

As I listen the one of the gawds of Rock N Roll, Bon Jovi, and look up just which scene Shakespeare’s eyesore is known for, I read a scene from Taming of the Shrew and laugh so hard that I now maybe want to do Shrew instead of Hamlet next year. There are too many plays and too little time and I have too many deserving, talented, just good people students, to cast. Casting is difficult but on top of that I am losing my seniors and I cried.

I like boxes. I like organizational tools and thingys. I love bright and shiny objects and I love my friends. I am not sure whether to say I love my sanity, or not, because I am not really sure if I am sane or not so if I should love my state or not. But I do so love to be in a good mood and having my things in a neat and tidy order helps mama be happy. Therefore I am adding to my chronicle, nesting, organizational vision quest I am on, I am completely re-doing my costume room at school (you may follow that I have started a costume catalogue so that the storage of the valuable assets aren’t/isn’t destroyed by the whimsical, yet ferocious, and predictably unpredictable tornado that is high school students, and it creates a business for them). So the costume closet at school is receiving a make-over. So is my office. There are so many cards and letters I have accumulated over the years from students and colleagues, the ones you stash away here and there to pull out and read at random times, I bought a special box to store them in. I also bought a beautiful container to amass the copious cards and letters I am sifting, and archiving at home postulating on whether to send them to each of the writers as a gift with a beautiful ribbon tied around. The amazing incite I find in the lucky few to get my complete attention tonight as I decipher who sent each one and which category I should place it in. The Belgium friend pile, gymnastics/5th 6th grade bundle, my early friends, the last semester 8th grade notes from Orient, Tina, Cathy, The Enchanted Forest few and the many ghosts of boyfriends (friends who were boys) past etc. etc. It is amazing how many of these letters are from my friends I have found on Facebook, but there are more that need to join the ranks of Facebook. Literally how many people have you touched, and the old fashion way by writing a letter? I will re-read them all eventually but until then my world gets more organized day by day. I will have to forgo my scanning for the summer, but there still will be pictures and postings of my adventures over the break.

Good Luck 2011 graduates and again thanks to FB I no longer have to write so many letters and now can keep in contact with everyone that has touched my life in a neat and tidy order and it is archived here instead of the old fashion way in a shoe box that is an eyesore.


et cetera