The Day after Christmas

Today is supposed to be a big downer, right? Well, so far it's pretty good. I am taking a vacation day from my vacation. Vegas was great and I miss it already. I also had two really good flights (sorry to all my friends who were delayed, I was very fortunate) which makes me brave about flying more...which makes me try to find ways to travel more often. So another trip to Vegas soon? Maybe.

She (in the tradition of assigning gender pronouns to a city) was good to me this Christmas. I came home with some money and many Christmas gifts from my awesome parents. In fact, I am currently killing time writing this while waiting for my new iPod to sync. In addition to gifts, I brought home some memories (I know, gross). We visited the Ethel M's chocolate factory, saw a lot of Christmas lights and saw The Beatles Love at the Mirage. It was one of the best shows I've ever seen. First time with the Cirque du Soleil, and now I get it. When we got into the theatre, my first impression was, "Oh, this will be like a live action Pink Floyd laser light show." While that is a pale, lame way to put it...it's kind of true. I'd like to see more Cirque du Soleil shows, but I doubt they will be as amazing as when set to the Beatles. Those kids were good.

So I'm home now, drinking some seasonally appropriate peppermint coffee, playing with my new Christmas toys and preparing for a show in St. Charles tonight. We had such a good audience last week, I hope things are as good tonight. I love my cast, I love the original stuff we have in the show. It's only been a few weeks, but I'll miss it when we're done.

Before we opened presents. The tree and the train.

The carnage after.

The big drive-through light display.

Our pre-Christmas Christmas dinner.

The obligatory mirror photo in the lobby of Love.
One of the amazing reliefs (this may or may not be the correct art term) in Most Holy Redeemer Church, a Catholic church on the strip where we went to Christmas vigil.

From the church we walked across the street and had dinner at the Luxor. Next time I go to Vegas, I want to stay here. Anyone want to go?

Before I go, let's play one year ago today: I was in Honduras. The end.

Vivaaaaa...You get it.

Vegas. It's nice here. Got in early yesterday morning and ran the rest of the day on roughly 2 hours of sleep and two additional hours of day. It's great to be "home." As I was approaching the gate at McCarran, I called to tell my parents, who were waiting at the baggage claim, that I was on the ground. To which my father responds, "peppermint mocha or gingersnap latte?" Merry Christmas, Natalie! Time to be a spoiled 12 year-old again. I'll take it. (if you're dying to know, I chose gingersnap)

Tonight: going to see The Beatles' Love. It's the one show in Vegas I've really wanted to see for a while and never been. There will also undoubtedly be blackjack involved. Let's hope I do better than I was doing in Detroit.

Happy Holidays!

Immaterial

Christmas, right?

Last year I was on the ship, which clearly made things weird for Christmas tradition. I found my way around it and managed to eek out some ritual. This year for many reasons I just don't feel like participating in any Christmas traditions. Reasons I am comfortable sharing:

• I live in a studio that will not accomodate a three-dimensional tree.


• I am day-jobless, so I don't want to spend money on temporary items.


• I have enough stuff in my tiny space already without a bunch of red and green crap.


• I have less than the secular holiday spirit (see above "red and green crap").

An ex-bf of mine liked to point out that I am materialistic. Yes, I idenitify alot with things. Advent calendars and wreaths and trees equal Christmas. Baskets and bunnies equal Easter. Stargazer lilies equal love. I moved so much growing up and never had a real "home" that the things became the only constants. Yeah, yeah, my family too...but to a transient 9 year old, a pink inflatable Easter bunny has a little more imprinting power. Of course as a grown up, I realize that as sure as the Grinch's heart grew three sizes, Christmas will come without ribbons, tags, packages, boxes or bags.

Doesn't mean I don't love this stuff.

Meredith and I had the best day ever at Williams-Sonoma and Trader Joe's. I'll be baking this week. Happy holidays, everyone.

Time Out

Blogging happens when I should be doing more pressing things. Tonight that thing is learning my lines. I'll get there.

In the meantime, I'll comment on my great weekend. Friday: The Violet Hour. If you live in Chicago, you should take the time to jaunt out to Wicker Park and experience this place. It's beautiful and blue and dim and warm and pretentious and expensive...all of which make me very happy in moderation. So maybe that's not the glowing review that will motivate you to go, but do yourself a favor one night. It's near the corner of Damen and Milwaukee. Tracey and Megan took Meredith and I there for a belated birthday celebration. It was nice to be back with these ladies, since our respective careers keep us apart so often. Also, we got to sit next to a creepy guy who was there alone and eventually struck up a conversation with a couple near us about how he would be hitting a strip club (alone) later. Charming.

Saturday was shows and more shows. CSz 4 Kidz and the 10pm show, both of which were adequate (not the best descriptor, but there it is). I saw Listen Kid at the Skybox, starring the incomparable Jon Colby and Tamara Nolte. I could've watched Tamara dance in a wheel chair all night long. The night was capped by the best Karl show I have ever played in. It was seriously some of the most fun I've had on that stage in general, which is saying a lot. I'm very thankful that these guys invite me to play...you know, when the shows go well. Jokes!

Today, another CSz show and lunch with the lovely Gillian B. It truly is nice to be home.

A note on being unemployed, especially this time of year: I barely know what day it is, except that the weekends are painfully crowd-ridden. I've really learned to appreciate the blessing of weekdays. No crowded stores, no wait for brunch, less people on the train between rush hours. Monday has become my favorite day of the week. Some of you hate me for saying that. But you can hate me all you like while you swim in paychecks and health insurance all Scrooge McDuck-style. Our grasses are different shades of green.