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Going to Alaska, where the temperature high for all next week is...wait for it...sixty five degrees fahrenheit!

*Does the happy dance*

I'm planning to wear black all week. Hodge mentioned that I will be complaining about the cold by the end of the first day, but that's all right. Vacation is all about new and exotic things to complain about. Besides which, in the cold you just put more clothes on. I'm actually hitting the legal limit of things to take off down here.

This will be my first summer trip home to Anchorage since 2002. I'm really quite excited--more so than I've been in a while. The last three or four winter trips home I've been increasingly unhappy. I love seeing my family but honestly, it's a few days of Christmas fun followed by a house-bound, dark, depressing, miserably cold week of isolation, since I'm too much of a chicken to drive on the ice. So this year for the first time I'm weaseling out of the Christmas trip, and as a result I'm getting a for-real vacation to Alaska rather than a parental-visit to Alaska.

In other news, I'm a wretched and negligent friend. I missed 2 birthdays this month. Two! One of which is a birthday of a person with whom I previously lived for six years! Also, I owe about four of you snail mail of various stripes, and I have been super-erratic about commenting on journals. You know I love you all, and sooner or later my love will overcome my pitiful flakiness. I promise.


May. 23rd, 2007 10:32 am
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Next week [profile] hplovescats and I are going on a much needed vacation to Austin (which is quickly becoming a job-hunting, house-hunting, errand-running "vacation" but will at least get me out of work for a few days). I am hoping we will have time to wedge Six Flags into the equation. The Krypto-Coaster is calling my name.

Anyway, anyone who wants a postcard should add their address into the comments (they're screened so as to protect privacy). This time I plan to actually buy postcard stamps before I go and take them in my wallet, so the odds of getting a postcard actually mailed from Austin are pretty good (as opposed to handed to you when I get home, which has been my tradition so far).

Meanwhile, I'm a little bit losing my mind here, but it's all going to be okay. Why do I have so much stuff? So much paperwork and random odds and ends? Last time we moved, I kept thinking I had finally moved all my books to the new house, and literally five or six times I opened a closet door or found another unexpected box stashed underneath something, filled with more books. I remember once I just started crying, crouched over yet another heavy box weeping bitter tears of bitterness.

I'm going to sell over half of them this time, either at Powells if they'll take them, or at the moving sale in July. And as much as I'd like to believe that I'll stuff the money into another envelope for moving expenses, I will probably buy more books. It's not my fault, though. Miranda July and A.M. Homes have both released books I've been waiting for for months. Also I need to buy all the Murakami I don't own.

But at least I'll be trading three or four boxes of books for maybe one box, which will help.

I'm so tired. All these logistics are strangling me. I just want to end all the housekeeping bullshit and get back to writing. This is good, though; when I move I'll be so relieved to write I won't remember at first just how sad I am to have left Portland.
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Righto, so I'm going to board a plane tomorrow morning to head out to El Paso, Texas. For Thanksgiving with the boyfriend's family. It's a good thing I discovered my "male film icon" self is John Wayne (see post from earlier today). That should come in handy. 

Am attempting to rid myself of preconceived notions and assumptions about Texans in preparation for the trip. It's hard to do when you're actually related to some not-great examples of Texan insanity. Of course if I judged the world based on what I know about my family we'd all be in trouble, so I'll try my best to have an open mind. I'd rather not project my own crazy dysfunction on a group of completely innocent people.

Happy Thanksgiving to those of you that celebrate it.
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We had a phenomenal time in Ashland, in spite of my being sick. It was pretty much everything I wanted in a weekend. The plays were all incredible.

The Merry Wives of Windsor was the first thing we saw, and I think my favorite. It's one of the more raucous and ribald of the plays, and it was played with lots of great over-the-top physical comedy. The costuming was really fun--it wasn't done with loyalty to any particular period but rather with a sort of general whimsy (bright colors and fishnet stockings and crazy hairstyles). It was all done sort of with a nod to the sitcomish situational comedy of the piece, complete with wacky music for the interludes and lots of pratfalls. It was energetic and wicked and very cleverly done.

The next day we did two--The Importance of Being Earnest and Cyrano de Bergerac. Importance was of course hilarious, as ever. I always end up a little exhausted by the constant zingers and one-liners, even though I laugh at every one; I'd imagine it's a little like being at a party with Oscar Wilde and listening to him crack wise all night and talk shit about other people. Fun, but maybe draining. And Cyrano was incredible, all the more so for being such a hard play to pull off. Marco Baricelli, the actor who played Cyrano, was possibly the most impressive performer we encountered (can you imagine how hard it is to impart dignity to a character who not only is a little ridiculous in the writing itself, but is also now a bit of a cliche?). It was a beautiful play and of course I cried a lot. That was also the play that had me thinking the most afterwards, and maybe if I'm feeling perky later and have spare time (an increasingly rare commodity) I'll jot some of said thoughts here. But for now this will suffice.

And then the last play Lovescats and I saw was Two Gentlemen of Verona (Drawgirl and her mom saw King John, which they liked but thought less well acted than the other things we saw). Gentlemen was enjoyable but flawed. They made some staging choices that were really fun, and some that didn't do it for me (for example, staging Verona as Amish country, which seemed to me a metaphor they didn't think out entirely), but they did a good job making sense of the incredibly problematic ending. They also characterized the bandits as contemporary punks and goths, which made for a good time. And Valentine was fucking hot when they gothed him up (who isn't?). 

A very satisfactory weekend, all in all!
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Well, since I'm due to go out of town on a mini-vacation tomorrow, of course I'm hideously ill. All weekend/week I've slept pretty much fifteen or sixteen hours a day. I think the worst is over, but I'm still weak and pathetic.

I'm hoping Lovescats and Drawgirl can just bundle me up in the back seat of the car and haul my pitiful ass down to Ashland. I'm sure the Shakespeare crowd will love me in their theaters, trying to eject a lung while they're trying to soliloquy. But I'll take some water and cough drops and hopefully that'll do.

It's been a while since I got sick just in time for vacation. I must have let my guard down. Well, just so tradition is being upheld.


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