Holiday in Cambodia... [POSTED A YEAR LATER]

[N.B. I came here to write a new post, and saw this one in my draft folder. Considering it was almost exactly one year ago, I thought it interesting. Here it is, unedited.]

I know, I know, I haven't posted in AGES. Mea culpa.

But the other day, somehow Donald Trump became the president-elect of the USA. And I've been working and playing in Japan for the past month and a half. And now I'm in Cambodia.

HOW DO THESE THINGS HAPPEN?!?!

Well, that first one, I'm still scratching my head. (For now, I'm in the time-will-tell, hope-for-the-best, but start-becoming-seriously-politically-active camp.) The Japan thing, well, that is what has kept me out on the road with Kinky Boots for over a year; I heard a rumor we'd be going overseas, and I vowed to stay til it was legit. And it was. And the experience was wonderful and hard and 50 things. And I'm EXHAUSTED.

But we had a three-week period after our Japan shows where they were sending the set back to the States, so WAAAAYYYY back last spring, I was like -- TRAVEL TIME! And I booked a 2+wk tour of SE Asia; Cambodia, Laos, Thailand, and Vietnam.

Yesterday eve I left Japan and this morning I arrived in Cambodia. Tomorrow is when the tour actually begins, so today I simply wandered in a tight circle of the hotel's neighborhood, and got a mani/pedi and massage at the hotel spa. (The mani/pedi was not the best, but ALL THREE SERVICES -- INCLUDING TIP!! -- cost me less than $60. A three-hour spa day for sixty bucks. Crazy.)

But here's the craziest thing -- the thing I wish someone would have told me -- they use US dollars here, primarily. (There is a Cambodian Riel, but it's like 4,200 to the dollar. So forty bucks is over 100000 riels. ) And the icing on the cake of the cherry on the sundae is... they don't use US *coins*, so you get your "change" in riels.

Meaning, I went to the grocery store, got a bottle of Chilean Cab for $6.95, and received three US singles back, and two 100-riel notes, which together total a whopping FIVE CENTS.

Why is this so insane to me?!?!

Maybe because they're beautiful notes, and totally not worth the paper they're printed on?
Maybe because I just spent a month and a half in Japan where everything was MUY expensive?
Maybe because I'm a tiny bit ashamed that my country has a giant economic influence on another one?
Maybe because, for the first time I can remember, I am not 100% proud to be an American right at this moment?

It's probably nothing more than noticing a difference, but for now, it's hard to tell the difference. Anyway, point is, you're all getting 100 riel notes for Christmas. BEST SOUVENIR EVER.

See you Around the Edge...

HUGE Meal, TINY Apartment: The Saga of New Year's

Instead of my usual holiday one-two punch of Christmas Open House and New Year's Dinner for friends, this year I decided to put all my focus in a luxe (hopefully) multi-course New Year's Dinner Blowout—ostensibly to save a little dough, but also because my last Open House was sooooo successful, I need at least one more year to recover.

Was this a good idea? Only time will tell...

T-minus one month:
Invitations go out, to a group of varied friends. Some I am not in very close contact with or even know that well, but in my puppeteering of social interaction, I think they would contribute perfectly to a night like this. Immediately "Yes"s start pouring in. Panic descends; what if everybody says yes? Where will I seat them all?

T-minus three weeks:

Part of my prep...

Pour over my recipe cards to try and find delicious courses that don't need a lot of fussy time in the kitchen. As the pile of "ooh, gotta make THAT"s grows, I finally make myself stop at 6 courses. Six won't be too many, right?

T-minus two weeks:
Luckily some "No"s have balanced out the equation. Looks like it'll be at least five people, up to eight. I'm sad the regretters won't be in attendance, but I can handle these numbers. Move around all furniture in the living room so I can accommodate Christmas tree AND some kind of dining table.

Stickies for dish organization!

 T-minus one week:
 Final two "maybe"s have respectfully  declined; we're at six. A very do-able six.  Huzzah. Write out grocery list, make a stab at  writing out a timeline for my kitchen duties.

 T-minus four days:
 Pull out desk table from wall and drag  kitchen table in, mashing them together to  create enough dining table room for six. Spend an hour mintuely adjusting one inch this way, one inch that way, to maximize space. Pretend to eat at the spot where the tables come together to see if that will be obnoxious for my guests. Decide food will be so good, they won't notice.

The wine line-up.

T-minus three days:
Shopping day! In the morning it was pouring rain but finally stopped, so less of a slog with bags and bags of produce. And bags. Tossed and turned last night wondering where it would all fit in my TINY fridge; one step up from a dorm-room cube, I kid you not. Solution is utilizing wine fridge as well as windowsill with window open.

T-minus two days:
Spent ENTIRE day in transit and at family friend's for lunch, but managed to find an addition to giftie bags for guests. (Making them a little satchel with a coin, band-aid, pink peppercorns, and heart gift tag [today's addition] so they can start the New by bringing money, health, spice, and love into their homes.) One friend texted to ask to bring a buddy; I said no problem. The more the merrier! ...But, um, no more now, we're full up. Polished the silverware. Made place cards.

I'm prepared (tho only 2 were used!)

T-minus one day:
Cooked ALL DAY. Made the soup, coq au vin, and dessert. Wrote and re-wrote timeline for scheduling and think that it might just go off without a hitch. Set the table.

DAY OF!
Friend's buddy not able to come after all. Too bad! Re-set the table. Prepped all the rest of the food. Opened the wine and it was all sound (phew.) Texted bestie to bring me a bag of ice and would she mind toting along a cup of olive oil? I just ran out. No problem (again, phew.) Small surges of panic that I may not have budgeted time correctly so am keeping on myself to stay focused and plow ahead.

T-minus 2 hours:
Prep has taken on a life of its own. I realize I don't have enough burners to warm the buttermilk sauce but then hit upon a GENIUS idea: to heat it in the coffee pot. That way it definitely won't get hot enough to break. I'm a genius.

T-minus 1 hour:

Pot-roasted celery root
with buttermilk olive sauce

I used some bubbly instead of regular white wine for a sauce. So it's only natural that I pour myself a glass, right? I mean… it's open already. Prep stations now include top of toaster oven and windowsill. I feel good! Not in the weeds at all. I have earned my glass o' bubbly.

T-minus 30 minutes:
Bestie arrives with ice and olive oil. Celery root going in the pot. Soup on one burner awaiting reheating. Coq on another burner awaiting reheating. Salad awaiting assembly. Lamb, trimmed, oiled, and covered with rosemary in the fridge. I think this is going to work.

Guests arrive!
Everyone gets settled with bubbly and hors d'oeuvres in the living room, and I'm able to join them due to my amazing time-organization skills, thank you very much. When dinner service starts, one friend expertly assists with passing out plates and collecting empty ones at each course. (He's not even a waiter, but I think he wanted to assure he'd get great portions every time!) The timing is perfect, and I'm even able to wash a dish or two as I go. The wine pairings are SPOT ON. Everything's cooked perfectly. People are finishing every last morsel.

Green bean & fingerling potato
salad w toasted walnuts
and proscuitto

All in all, it was a SMASHING SUCCESS. (Except for one friend who told me as I was plating the lamb that he didn't eat red meat. I asked for allergies/preferences in the invite, people!!! My serving friend said it was no problem, he'd be more than happy to polish off the extra. But still, folks, if you have a preference, please let the host know PRIOR to the dinner party!!)

White chocolate-mint Pot
de Crème with white choco
ganache & candy cane brittle

We finished at the table (with only one spilled glass of wine) just in time to see the ball drop. And then a three-hour whirlwind of "Cards Against Humanity" ensued, while we all cheerfully digested. The last guest left around 3:30am, and I cleaned up for another few hours and fell into bed at 5:30am, exhausted.

In response to my question if this was a good idea, the answer is a hearty "YES!" I had so much fun with every detail, and I think my guests were happy, full, and had a great time ringing in the New. If this is how 2015 started, it's going to be a good year.

HAPPY NEW YEAR, ALL!

The Best Thing That's Happened to Us Is the Worst.

I'm talking technology. This topic has been simmering for me for a while now, and this morning I actually cried in a subway station as I felt our humanity ebbing away. Not that many people would have noticed my swell of emotion; most of the faces of passers-by were buried in their devices.

Yes, yes—I get the irony that I'm thumb-typing this treatise on my phone. Although I often carry "actual" notebooks, the one I have today is buried deeper in my tote than this rectangular marvel. And it IS a marvel, it truly is. This little device allows me communicate with nearly everyone I've ever met. I can text, email, post on walls, tweet at, and call (although hardly anyone does THAT anymore.) I have more music I could listen to in a day on here. I have the complete works of Shakespeare on here. I have organizational tools, the ability to find the nearest wine bar, and baseball score sheets. I can play games galore (though not Candy Crush—it's too addicting. I kept that one only on my iPad.)

Yes, I also have an iPad. And an iPod. And a Kindle. And a mini tablet (though, to be fair, that was from a free promotion and I've never used it.) I have a portable wifi hotspot and a laptop, because, come on—who doesn't, these days, if you're moderately well-off and live in a big city? It is the norm.

And that's the problem.

In my subway car this morning, there were 14 people. 10 were plugged into their devices. Four merely by headphones, the other 6 (with or without headphones,) transfixed by their screens. No one was looking at each other, except the older gentleman sitting across from me and I shared a brief smile; cue first emotional pang.

In the station itself, I came across a string quartet playing a beautiful piece. I recognized it though couldn't pinpoint the composer. As I was running early, I stepped out of the flow of traffic (which most people walking down the street while staring at their phones are not courteous enough to do, grr,) and stood, enjoying their playing. Was it perfect? No—every so often a wrong note would bend the harmony, but like a ship in swells, it righted itself quickly. The slight imperfections endeared me to them more, as did the fact that not a single player was an old white man.

As I listened, I watched people pass by. Three people put money into the case (yay,) one group of tourists snapped a picture (cute,) and eight plugged-in folks strolled right by, oblivious. And that's when I spontaneously started to cry.

We are turning into a society of people who don't interact humanely anymore. Forget about writing a letter, it's fine to send a text with six abbreviations and an emoji. You don't need to call and have a pleasant catch-up, just "like" my status. Even when we DO meet up in person, look at all the phones on the table. We can't stop documenting our lives for all to see, we can't be away from a text alert or miss a tweet for five minutes.

WE ARE ADDICTED.

And, like many addictions, it is harming us deeply.

Am I saying something here you didn't already know? Unlikely. But if you agree with me that we are collectively heading down the slipperiest of slopes, do me a favor or two:

- Please don't walk down the street staring at your phone. Not only are you missing the beautiful day and maybe that hottie checking you out, but you might not see that errant pile of doggie doo either. If you have to check the address of where you're headed or respond to an emergency, please step off to the side. Check, respond, and then put your phone away. It's a beautiful day.

- Please take one less selfie a week, post one less check-in, tweet one less tweet, avoid one status update, commute headphones-free one day. If you recognize the knee-jerk impulse to constantly plug in, it's a step towards changing a mindless habit.

- Finally—please write a letter, call a friend to get together, take your phone off the table, make eye contact with people, enjoy the beautiful day! Wean off your dependence on these devices a bit.

We can let our marvelous technology work for us in the most amazing way, but only if we don't let it control us. It's really a futuristic sci-fi nightmare... that is actually starting to happen. If you don't believe me, the next time you're on the subway, put your phone the fu¢k away for a second and count all of the people suctioned to theirs. Count the number of people you have to dodge on the sidewalk as they drone forward, oblivious. Count the number of times a brunch companion says, "I just have to check this."

Wake up.

And by all means, PLEASE stop and listen to a lovely string quartet... I guarantee it will do far more for your soul than beating another level of Candy Crush ever will.

Okay 2014, I'm Comin' For Ya!!

I don't usually like to make New Year's Resolutions.  The word "resolution" has become fraught with an almost impending sense of failure attached to it, so instead, I make a list of "25 Things I'd Like to Accomplish" for the New Year.

A very talented musician acquaintance of mine, Julian Velard, wrote his resolutions on his blog and asked readers to send him their resolutions; he will choose different ones to post on Facebook every day, and in doing so, hopes to encourage everyone to stick with their statements.

A nice idea, though some of mine are personal enough to me that I think strangers may find them boring.  And there's no point in putting something on Facebook that's boring, I mean, come on.  But if you're reading this, you're probably not a stranger to me, so here you have it!

One last thought:

Looking back, I really feel like 2013 was a year of laying foundations.  Although I made strides in many areas of my life, I was not able to cross off a lot of larger goals from my list (some re-appear below!)  However, the journey I took in the past year feels like it primed me to be in a position to achieve a multitude of things in the New.  I hope you may feel the same!

25 T.I.L.T.A. in 2014:

- See more live music (including Julian Velard, of course.)
- Pick up my beautiful guitar more, and write music again.  It's been too long.

Palace of Pena, Sintra Portugal '13

- Read more.
- Get one, maybe two, more stamps in my passport this year.
- See my friends in person (and off fb) more.
- Get back on Broadway in a new show. (New to me, doesn't have to be original cast or anything.)
- Do a play - Time Stands Still would be a good one.
- Do Next to Normal (dream role; time to make it a reality.)
- Do shows that feel like true collaboration.
- Stay committed to being healthy and fit.  More boot camp, more yoga, more dance, more surfing, more skiing - & come up with some new things to try!  I know I love sore muscles - means I worked hard.  So lots of soreness in 2014.  :-)

Chef's jacket Dad got me.

- Cook more exciting and delicious recipes (gotta balance out the fitness, right?)
- Blog Wine Minx more frequently.
- Teach a seminar on Turkish Wines for the Society of Wine Educators.
- Do more wine dinners at NYC restaurants.
- FINISH writing my book, "All you REALLY Need to Know About Wine." Must.  Finish.  Book.
- Actually take the Certified Sommelier intro class (man, they fill up SO FAST!!!)
- Increase my income.
- A mutual, loving relationship with an amazing man who thinks I'm the $h!t.
- Less 'mindless TV watching' at night.  (I've seen all the episodes of "Friends" enough times already.)
- Strive to continue discipline like organized desk, clean house, etc.
- Continue to explore taking risks in all areas of my life.  "Do something every day that scares you" and so on.
- Make more things: jewelry, sweaters, art...
- Be a good friend to my friends and a good daughter to my parents; love the people in my life!
- Keep up with my languages (French, Russian, Spanish, Italian, German, Turkish, Greek, Portuguese,) & learn another.
- Live a thoughtful, introspective, focused and joyful life.  Don't be afraid to be silly.  Don't let fear of judgment affect my actions.  Honor who I am by being all I am.


That's a good place to start, I think.  Any of yours you're really excited about?  Leave them in the comments below!  And have a Happy and Wonderful New Year!  Bring it on, 2014!!!

80s TV Hunks Have Ruined Men for Me

I think the title says it all, I really do.

You see, lately I've been encouraging a friend to "get out there" and date, so figured I had to practice what I preached... therefore, against my better judgement I went back on an online dating site.

Oh jeepers, what a waste of time!

Mostly because the majority of men there are not remotely suitable for me, but I also realized that perhaps my formative years were spent dreaming of men the likes of which don't exist any more.

To wit:


<< Tom Selleck as Magnum, P.I.

That smile, that 'stache, zippy car and Hawaiian shirts, goofy and sexy at the same time.



Simon MacCorkindale as Manimal. >>

Yes, the man who turned into animals.  Elegant, suave, and mammalian. 


Another ringer: David Hasselhoff as Michael Knight.  Tall, lanky, saucy smile, mysterious past, helped a lot of women in silky wrap dresses or jeans and boots.  Bonus: talking car.




Let's not forget Greg Evigan as BJ. >> (And a cute monkey as "the Bear.")  They drove around in a truck.  Look at those wavy locks...

And the double whammy of Ponch and Jon (Erik Estrada and Larry Wilcox.)  I wished I could drive so I could go to California and drive on the highways and get pulled over by these two.  Whether my mood ranged from ethnic w/blinding teeth to blonde good ol' boy, they fit the bill.  YES I had Ponch and Jon posters up in my room.

Another hunky duo were the Dukes brothers... no disrespect to Tom Wopat, but at a younger age I was a Bo Duke fan all the way.  Thank you, John Schneider.  My uncle met him once.  I thought that was so cool.

And finally... Scott Bakula.  Okay, Quantum Leap started in the very late 80s, but I had seen the guy play the Pirate King in the Pirates of Penzance in a theatre in my town during the early 80s, so he was a pre-TV 80s hunk.  Oh, whatever, details, shmetails.  (I would like to take this moment to bless the Gods of Google for finding me this beefcake shot.)

So that's just the tip of my iceberg... there are legions of other 80s TV hunks who caught my eyes.  Sure, today we have our own TV hunks who don't disappoint, but there was something special about these guys that made them iconic dreamboats forever in my heart.

Now off to scan the high-up channels for some re-runs!  (And scan my dating website JUST IN CASE I can catch a glimpse of a man who channels my 80s hunks.)

Summer Summer Summer Time

First of all, thank goodness that heat wave is over.  What a siege.  New York City in the dog days of summer is unbelievably gross, sticky and all-around uncomfortable; so even the warm-to-hot days when one can have one's windows open to the sweet twilight air are heavenly.

How's my summer going, though, you ask? Well...


I have been sick for three weeks with some variation of strep throat.  It is incredibly annoying and I am crossing my fingers this last bout of antibiotics wipes that bitch out.

The NYMF (New York Music Theatre Festival - the "T" is silent) has come and gone, and with it, a lovely staged reading of a new musical I was fortunate enough to participate in.

There have been long hours at my desk as I've added and subtracted and polished both my memoir - "The Definition of (Love) Insanity"- and my intro-to-wine book "All You REALLY Need to Know About Wine."

I have knocked Team #18, the St. Louis Cardinals, off my list as I work towards singing for every Major League Baseball team.  This completes my 2013 anthems, unless that woman from the As stops teasing me with "let me check the calendar and I'll get back to you" and actually gets back to me.


And I've consumed about sixty-eight gallons of wine on rooftops and in bars and on my sofa.

It's been a pretty fun summer so far, I suppose.  I would honestly rather be inside, performing a wonderful theatrical piece somewhere.  Or even in a humid rehearsal room.  Or even in a humid and un-air-conditioned audition room.  Or out on a boat on the Turkish Mediterranean - my new favorite dream vacation destination (I'm not a total glutton for punishment.)

I guess what I'm trying to say is that there has been much about this summer to enjoy.  But I am dreaming of the fall.  Of wearing a sweater.  Of "good sleeping weather."  Of colored leaves crunching under my feet.  Of returning to Indy to do "Les Miz."  Of returning to Indy to spend hours in the gym and eat really well and get fantastically into shape while I'm doing "Les Miz." Of winding up this incredible year with a bang so that I can catapult into the clean slate of 2014 laid out in front of me.





If I start running now, just think
of all the momentum
I can gain.

Meanwhile, I wil enjoy this beautiful city in all its stunning summer glory, be it hot or humid or both.

How I Became an Activist

It.  Has.  Happened:
I've turned into one of those people...

I now regularly post status updates and links on my facebook page about the situation in Turkey.

I know what this means - most of my friends (having given the first few posts a cursory glance,) will now sigh and scroll right past them.

But maybe, just maybe, they will click on a link, or they might take a second to "like" what I've posted. And that's about all I can ask of my friends at the moment...  Turkey seems like a place that is so far away, physically and conceptually, from their worlds.  I get it.

Although I have long considered myself to be an intelligent, cultivated person, I have a confession: I used to read the front section of the New York Times last - after the Arts, Sports, Food, Style and Travel sections - if at all.

Now that I have somehow become a kind of revolutionary (as one friend joked on facebook,) I immediately scan the front page for news about Turkey, to see if what is printed in a respectable media source supports what I've been obsessing about online for the prior 24 hours.

A lot of people did read my previous blog post on the protests in Turkey from a few weeks ago, and I appreciate that very much; especially as there are so many issues and causes percolating in the world right now that are incredibly important:  Marriage Equality.  GMO-free foods.  Climate change.  Civil wars.

But what is happening in Turkey strikes such a chord with me that I can not stop sharing it with the people in my world.  Why a two-week vacation in an amazing country has led to my newfound fervor is immaterial.  I need you to know some things: that the police are violently attacking demonstrators.  That PM Erdogan is, among other things, blaming international media for the situation.  (Excuse me?)  That hotel lobbies where medics were tending to the injured have been tear-gassed.  That, last night, my friend in Istanbul had to shepherd young girls away from counter-protesters who were using long sticks to reach past the police to try and beat them.

I sit here, half a world away, sick to my stomach about the violence PM Erdogan is perpetuating.  He may have done some good things for the country in the past, but this megalomaniacal behavior is abhorrent.  The people are trying to stand up to him, and he brutally swats them away like an annoying fly, following his egotistical whims.  This has become unacceptable to me.

So I go to demonstrations, and sing along to Turkish songs and chants as best I can.  I post links on Facebook.  I write this blog article.  I paint my fingernail with a crescent moon and star like the Turkish flag.  I talk to people in person.  I check my email immediately when I wake up to read my friend's first-hand account of what is happening (and to make sure he and his friends are okay.)  I scan links and try and find a working live-feed from Istanbul, and then I watch it for hours.

And I hate that I can't do more.

For some serendipitous reason, I have embraced the cause of the demonstrators in Turkey.  And if you're reading this, then I have indeed become an activist, because the actions of one person - me - are having at least some ramifications.

I am squeaking out my voice to inform.  Will it make a difference?  I hope so.

If you share this, then it might...

What's Going on in Turkey - and Why You Should Care:

I have just returned from a two-week tour of Turkey.  It was somewhat of a random destination; my friend and I had not harbored Lifelong Dreams of Visiting the Land of the Ottomans or anything.  The tour dates simply fit in with our schedule, and it sounded like a "neat" place to visit.

But being there has changed my life.  I have seen much beauty - in the countryside, in intricate patterns, and in the people...

The day before we left, however, I saw something more.

You may know by now that what began as a peaceful sit-in by about 50 people of all ages has turned into a five-day battle between protesters across the country and the government, led by Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdogan.   The initial conflict centered around plans to raze trees in Gezi Park, part of Taksim Square, to build a shopping mall and tourist attraction.

When police responded harshly to the environmentalists, using tear gas and water cannons, something broke in the Turkish citizens.  People swarmed to Taksim from all corners of Istanbul, as the police kept on with bombardments of tear gas and water cannons, escalating the violence in ever-widening arcs.  Over the past four days, the conflict has risen and subsided and shifted, but has not resolved.  There are massive protests in many other cities in the country now as well.

How did this explode so quickly?  Are Turkish people REALLY that environmental?  In reality, it was just the straw that broke the camel's back.  For a long time, many Turks have mumbled about the controls PM Erdogan has been implementing, like alcohol restrictions and other "quality-of-life" legislation.  He is often referred to as a tyrant, a dictator, a sultan, and a controlling father-figure.  This situation was the final straw, and the people are making their voice heard, loudly and strong.

Last Friday night, some friends and I were having drinks at a rooftop bar to celebrate our final night in this amazing country.  Below us, waves of cheers and horn-honking rose and fell during the evening, with local Istanbulites peering down through the glass to watch.  We saw the helicopters a little ways away hovering over Taksim and the thrumming of their motors blended in with the DJ's music, but as a New Yorker accustomed to noise, I didn't take much notice.  At one point I got a tickle in my nose, and then my throat.  Looking around for cigarette smoke which I assumed was the cause, I noticed other people in our group registering discomfort.  Suddenly one of our friends, a diplomat, shouted, "tear gas!"  We all felt it.  The burning wasn't strong, and it dissipated quickly, but then again, we were over a mile away from Taksim Square.  When we crossed the bridge to hail a cab, we had to stop over and over again to clap along with people passing and cars driving by, horns blaring.  At this point, we knew there was a demonstration going on, and knew it had grown, but the details were hazy.

The following day, I met up with some Turkish friends at a cafe by the water.  They had gone to Taksim the night before, returning to their apartment when the tear gas got too strong.  They would wash their eyes and mouths and rest, and go back out again.  And again.  And again.  The next morning, after recharging by the Bosphorus for a few hours, they were heading back to Taksim Square.  One friend pulled out his phone to see a live speech by PM Erdogan.  People at neighboring tables leaned in to hear.  My Turkish is very rudimentary, but my friend translated the gist of it.  However, the most telling responses were the looks on his friends' faces - of disgust and disbelief.  When I said goodbye to return to my hotel and go to the airport, they headed straight back to Taksim.

Over the past few days, I have exchanged many short emails with this friend.  Of course I am worried about his and his friends' safety, but there is a part of me that is envious he is able to be in the thick of a modern revolution.  He speaks of the importance of this conflict for his country, and that his presence in Taksim is one of support.  I feel helpless all the way over here - I fell in love with Turkey and then abandoned it in a moment of crisis.  Aside from getting back on a plane to Istanbul, there is not much I can actually DO to help.  Except that my friend said, "Everyone can help when the time comes, for example you can start by talking about Turkey with your friends."

So that is what I'm doing.

We in the USA live in a land that is democratic and free, and too many people don't even vote.  Or they do, and then just sit and complain when the "other guy" wins.  Turkey is a secular muslim country and there IS a vote there - but whether these demonstrators voted for PM Erdogan or not (and many of them did,) they are not just sitting and complaining.  They are fighting for what they believe is right, and the power of the people is strong.

In the car on my way to the airport, a huge group of demonstrators crossed the highway, bearing flags and shouting and cheering and clapping.  As they swarmed past our car, I clapped and cheered along with them from inside.  One gentleman and I made eye contact for a few moments.  I saw the passion and determination in his eyes, and his gratitude for the support, the clarity of his convictions and his tenacity, all at once.  And that was possibly THE most beautiful thing I saw in Turkey.

#          #         #

Please watch the news for the latest information, and please help by talking about Turkey with YOUR friends.  Thank you.

Elemental Plans

While I eschew the usual New Year's Resolutions, I do make lists of the 25 things I can accomplish in the year ahead.  These tend to be as benign as "read more" and as ambitious as "book a role in a new Broadway show."  But this year something else came to mind as a foundation for the year ahead:

The Four Elements.

Which are: Earth, Air, Fire and Water - the almost universally accepted building blocks of human life and the basis for our existence on this planet.  Big stuff, right?  But also... simple.

It struck me that returning to my elemental foundation might be an interesting idea to pursue this year.

And it wasn't hard to see why:


Water:  I love being on the water, for one thing.  On a boat, splashing around on the shore, swimming or bobbing in the waves... completely relaxing.  But also, drinking water; it's good for you (I think we all know that) but really making an effort to stay totally hydrated reaps incredible benefits.

Air: is breath.  I need to do more yoga - to integrate my breath consciously with a physical activity.  And I want to hike... to breathe fresh air while I am moving around the earth and not just sputtering away on a treadmill.  And to speak and sing properly, it must be done on the air.  Air is how a sailboat moves.  Air is flow.

Earth: Yes, being outside.  Feeling my feet on the ground.  But this echoes also as posture-related for me.  Standing straight and tall and owning my space, with my feet firmly supporting me on the ground underneath.  I like to get dirty in the earth.  I like to see the earth from different perspectives.

Finally, Fire: this screams AMBITION to me now.  Fire, as in the drive to pursue my goals relentlessly.  As Sande Shurin said in her Message for the year ahead, to meet challenge with rigor and vision and excellence.  This is Fire.  It is passion and intensity and strength and emotion.  It is tenacity.  It is an all-consuming belief in oneself.

As I pondered the four elements, I was not surprised to see just how inter-connected they are as well.  So I like the idea of recognizing that every little thing I put my focus on is part of the entirety of my life.  Elemental, my dear Watson.

Is This a Bad Idea?

I have to go buy an air conditioner.  I had one last year but it didn't work very well, and it was loud, so it was hard to sleep at night with it on, so anyway, I got rid of it and need a new one.

Today's my day off and I was planning on heading over to PC Richards... but I am wildly distracted because I have decided to write a memoir.

I am also writing a wine book this summer (that I'm very excited about,) but this new project leapt out of nowhere and put a stranglehold on me.  I have taken down from the shelf all of my journals spanning the last twenty-four years (yikes) and have been flipping through them, gathering information and steam... and I am already seven pages into writing:

The Definition of (Love) Insanity: An Investigative Report.

What I figured is: if the definition of insanity is repeatedly doing the same action yet hoping for different results, I have to apply the inverse to get a different result in my love life.  So I need to figure out what these past patterns of love have been in order to circumvent them.


I am only on page seven and think this is going to be really important for me.  I also think this is going to be something people will want to read.  But if my intention is to write a book, I wonder if mentioning real people (even if most of them are only referred to by their initials or aliases) is a good idea.  I mean, I have to mention them.  But what if they read the book and sue me for some ridiculous reason?


I guess I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.  For now, I'm crazy gung ho about sitting here and putting all of this down, even if it means I'm sweating in the heat and humidity.


So I guess, no, it's not a bad idea at all.

Control and Progress

I recently posted about how BEIGE I found Indianapolis.  Well, that was before the early spring triggered an explosion of color in this 'burg!  Pale pink dogwood blossoms, yellow daffodils, deep green grass, lavender trees, red tulips... a riot of color.   The beige has certainly blown away.

I am reminded how nature will continue to move forward, no matter what we do.  Global warm the place?  Ok, spring will still arrive, just earlier.  Vines will grow, bees will pollinate, ants will find their way inside my housemate's bedroom and freak her out... it seems impossible for nature to stagnate and cease its cycle.  Even death is not a full stop but a necessary part of that cycle.

This week I spent an incredible amount of time and money and effort to fly home for an audition.  I was happy I did so, regardless of the outcome.  However, when I found out today I didn't book the job, I wasn't really disappointed or upset - I was frustrated by the lack of control I felt.

An actor relinquishes nearly all control in his career: someone else decides to represent you, someone else decides to give you an audition appointment, someone else decides if they think you're a fit for their project, someone else decides where you should stand and how they want you to interact with other actors, someone else decides (in print) if they think you did a good job or not.  We are in control of very personal things related to our craft, but do not have a hand in the grand machine.

So the frustration nags for a moment, until I remind myself that I did a great audition (the casting director wrote my agent, "Loved hearing her sing that material!").  And that I even said the effort of going on this audition was just as valuable a building block of my career as booking a job.  And that just as the Japanese maple blooms and the daffodils burst, headway is being made.

It is not necessary to have a stranglehold of control to make vibrant, important progress.

Toasting with Bubbly

Tonight we opened the show!  It went so incredibly well, not that I expected any less.  We had an opening night party at a local brewery (which had nice wine, so all was grand,) and now I'm home and having a glass of bubbly to toast a milestone of sorts before I fall into bed, exhausted.

Bubbly is obviously a perfect catalyst for celebration and my professional Wineau side will wax rhapsodic on the subject as often as possible (cross-promotion: see www.wineminx.blogspot.com where there is a recent treatise on the joys resulting from secondary fermentation.)

In other words, it was worth it to me to open a bottle (not intended to be completely consumed in one sitting so potentially wasted) for the celebratory aspect.

I am celebrating freedom.

I am celebrating joy.

I am celebrating what theatre is about; transporting an audience.

This show, "Legally Blonde," may be one of the 'fluffiest' around, but it is so much fun to do - the audience has an absolute blast - and so do we on stage.

I am performing a leading role that is distinctive, humorous, and relatable.  I get to belt my face off, and have a ton of laugh lines.  And I get to work with a company that is talented, dedicated and all-around lovely and this is all reminding me why I fell for this career back when I was eight years old.

I couldn't be happier, and the only thing missing is someone special to clink this glass of bubbly with.  But that's for another day.  As Steven Wright beautifully said, "You can't have everything... where would you put it?"

This Place is So Beige...

I've been in Indianapolis for a week now... and this place is so beige.  It is winter, so the sky is mostly beige, and when there's no snow the ground is beige, and most of the buildings are beige.  This place is the opposite of Miami Beach.  Beige.

But I am part of a fantastic company doing its best to bring some Hot Pink to the area, and I think we're bound for success!  This is the first regional gig I've done in YEARS and I honestly didn't remember what it could be like.  But last night the company went to see the current show at the theater, and I was enveloped by a warm wash of love for this group and what we're doing.

The beige is melting away...

Well, That Doesn't Happen Every Day.

I had a private audition for a play this afternoon that lasted nearly an hour!(See above title.) Kind of riding high from that one, not gonna lie. The director quasi-interviewed me about the character and what drew me to the play, we did the scenes, he told me all about the theater, and then we chatted about personal stuff for ten minutes.

Someone said it sounded like a date, and in a way it was exactly like a date. What a luxury to get to see if you get along with someone and actually like the person you may be working with!

This meant more to me as well due to the fact that I get pigeonholed into being seen only as a musical theater actor just because I've got a killer voice. So, no matter what happens, I know I set the bar very, very high!!

I have been considering resurrecting this blog for a while... it has lain fallow in deference to my Wine Minx tome (www.wineminx.blogspot.com) but episodes like today's have gotten me itching.

We shall see...

I will sort these thoughts out

DVR Madness. Call the White Coats!

I recently had the same discussion with two different friends about which shows they record on their DVRs. When I started listing mine, I was shocked by how many there were - when did I become such a TV junkie? I blame technology. The system makes it too easy to record just about anything that catches your fancy.

I am going to bare my boob-tube-watching soul for you now and list the shows I DVR and why. Perhaps this will be cathartic and I will pick up a good book tonight instead of grabbing the clicker. In no particular order:

1) Human Target - New this season, action-packed, like a mini-movie every week, lots of car chases and fun fight sequences... and Jackie Earle Haley is in it. Totally enjoyable fluff.

2) Leverage - Similar to the above, more interesting for the elaborate con games. A nice ensemble of actors who manage to lift their characters out of "stock" mold, especially hunky Christian Kane as the bruiser. And Timothy Hutton is a classic.

3) 24 - I can't stop watching this series, although no season equals Day 1 in my opinion. I like to count the number of times per episode Jack Bauer repeats himself louder, like: "Where's the file?! WHERE'S THE FILE?!"

4) Bones - I came to this series slowly but now I love freakin' Emily Deschanel! And her interplay with hunky David Boreanaz. And the odd but lovable fellow scientists. And, and, and.

5) House - Dad got me into this one. My friend Scott won't watch it because he's a bit of a hypochondriac and watching doctors diagnose mystery diseases would be torture for him. Hugh Laurie manages to make a completely unsympathetic character compelling, and the ensemble cast is solid.

6) Project Runway - I have a love-hate relationship with reality TV. I can't stand most of it, but I love these specialized competitions. I thought I'd lose interest here since I can't sew to save my life, but this manages to keep me glued without too much silly drama. Enough silly drama, just not too much.

7) The Bachelor - I know, you just threw up in your mouth a little bit. This is indeed the most tawdry of all of the dating shows (at least Flavor of Love is honest about its freak factor...) and especially this season, where they showed the Bachelor shirtless 4 or 5 times in the first few minutes, once even soaping himself up in a shower. Ug. I mean, he's hot, but come ON. And all that editing to make 'characters' out of those poor girls? Double ug. So why do I subject myself to this? I'll tell you why - I am a hopeless, hopeless romantic. And I am single. So if I watch two people on the journey from a first hopeful meeting all the way to a proposal, even under these circumstances, I can believe it might happen to me. Maybe when I have a boyfriend again I can stop watching this stupid show.

7) Top Chef - Back to "good" reality TV! Again, love the competition, and since I cook a little bit, I love it even more. Padma's a little annoying, but I really love going on the journey with these chefs. I just wish I could taste the food.

8) Supernanny - How can so many people be such horrible parents? I'm not a total Judy Judger, I do understand how they could slowly get themselves in a hole, but even though I don't have kids I have learned so much from JoJo myself. I can't wait to say, (in her accent) "That's not assseptible." (I also frequently watch The Dog Whisperer which holds a parallel interest for me, but I don't actually DVR it so it didn't make the list.)

9) What Not To Wear - Stacy and Clinton are amazing. I don't think I was ever a fashion disaster, but I've paid close attention to these two over the years and think they would be proud! My favorite part is seeing how confident their participants get after the makeover.

10) Extreme Makeover: Home Edition - Speaking of makeovers... . This show nudges up against exploitation of the families, and I always worry that after the cameras are off they won't be able to afford the taxes on the new property or it will get vandalized. But I cry every week, darn it! I'm so happy for the kid who doesn't have to sleep in a chair anymore! The mom with cancer who has a quiet place to relax after chemo! Walls and ceilings without holes! All of it.

11) The Biggest Loser - Kind of like the people on WNTW, I cheer for these folks making a life-changing transformation. I have to trust they're doing it as healthily as possible, cus they drop LBs so fast, but they're inspiring. I used to do dips and push-ups and sit-ups during the commercials but the DVR took that away. I mean, I can't not fast-forward through the commercials, come on.

12) Survivor - Because this is the one reality show I think I'd do. And also, there's hunky Jeff Probst. But I usually fast forward past all the scheming and yapping to camera for the challenges.

13) Deadliest Catch - Kittra and Susie got me into this. If I had to be a crab fisherman, I think I could. I wouldn't want to, but what these guys do is incredible, and yet mundane, and also so foreign to a gal who lives in NYC. And Mike Rowe is a narrating king.

14) Family Guy - I have become addicted to this show. It is genius. That's all I have to say.

15) Castle - Oh, Nathan Fillion, finally one of your shows stuck! The hardest-working actor you hadn't heard of. Not really a fan of his detective counterpart, but it's all about him anyway. Very funny, and I love the relationship with his family. You know you've already met who is eventually discovered as the killer in the first 15 minutes, but it's a fun ride.

16) V - I am still on the fence about this one. What did they give us, like three episodes before the break? I liked the old V with Marc Singer. We'll see.

17) FlashForward - Very intrigued! I like Joe Fiennes and John Cho a lot. Great premise. Surprising, can't quite figure out where it's going - even though we're supposed to know exactly where it's going! Kinda creepy too.

18) Glee - Love it love it love it love it. This show makes me happy. The songs, the musical talent, and Jane Lynch is so incredible as Sue Sylvester I can't think of any word to accurately describe how incredible she is.

19) Grey's Anatomy - I watched it at first because a fellow Dartmouth alumna created it. And then I couldn't stop. It's a bit soap-opera-y, sure, and the McDreamy McSteamy cuteness got on my nerves, but I seem moved to cry at least once every episode. And Sandra Oh is brilliant.

20) Lie to Me - (We're almost done, can you believe it?) A gimmick of a show, but it's starting to find its legs and Tim Roth aces it.

21) LOST - I am a LOST loyalist through and through - I never left. Some of the most insane moments on TV, the kind where you have to stuff your fist in your mouth to keep from screaming in amazement. Final season, makes me a little sad. But then again, great shows like Six Feet Under and Battlestar Galactica had to end as well to make room for what was to come.

Twenty-one shows on my DVR. At least they don't all happen at the same time, I'd never leave the house. Because while the DVR is great technology, and allows me to keep up with shows when I'm performing, and skip the commercials, it also makes me crazy! I think tonight I will crack open that book.

After I catch up on the last two episodes of 24, that is. I'm behind.

Volatility.

We aren't even three weeks into the new year - the new decade - and it seems to me that there is an uncommon volatility in the air. Of course, the devastating earthquake in Haiti has something to do with that. But there are issues in our government, issues with our national identity - there's the ability of our social networking to create viral insanity, the fact we foster relationships by typing and not in person - I see individuals all around me make choices that make no sense to me, and people who live more for the drama than compassion and real connections...

It all feels a little too uncomfortable. Too volatile. It makes me want to move to the country with my beloved and farm our own food and ride horses to the neighbors' for dinner, and work to teach children the value of gratitude and that they can do anything they dream.

But first I need a beloved.

Seriously, though, I guess I need to re-commit to having hope. Hope that the pain of those affected by the earthquake will heal. Hope that one day we will decide through our elected officials that two people who love each other have every right to marry, and that good health care is not optional. Hope that connections renewed online will be wonderfully refreshed in person. Hope that people will 'grow up' and realize that they are not the center of the universe.

Okay, okay - and hope that I will find a beloved and maybe one day we will grow some food and inspire some children together.

LOOKING.

I am looking. Looking for that beautiful grey warm area, when people’s eyes meet and something new is exchanged. One particular person I could always count on for deep eyeful meaning has recently left New York and is – as I write this, I believe – on his way to the farthest reaches of the Pacific Northwest. But the all-encompassing nature I crave from a look was only ever on the fringe with this departed friend. Now it has arrived at the forefront and become incredibly necessary.

It has been a long time since I’ve shared that particular knowing glance with someone. This glance I speak of is not merely a promise of sexual intimacy or a mutual recognition of interest. It is something so deep that wars are fought over it, epic poems are written about it, people die to achieve it. It is particular to the participants. It connects the head, heart, and body. It transports. It is a statement without words.

It is why we watch theatre, why we DVR good television dramas. We hope to see a rich moment, full and deep, and yet tender and incongruously simple at the same time. I am not jealous of other people and their relationships, I am jealous of these looks.

After one has been single for a while, the question emerges about loneliness. And sure, I miss a body beside me as I sleep. Yes, I miss a person rubbing my feet in front of the TV, knowing what comments I’ll make about something we’re watching before I open my mouth. Of course I want someone as a touchstone to my day and someone to help guide along his own path. But most of all I want to exchange this look.

A look that is unique, every time. A look that encompasses hope, desire, love, lust, admiration, support, questioning, wondering, faith, gratitude, and beguilement. I know I am able to bestow that look. I know I am able to receive it. Now I must wait, patiently, for it. I am… looking.

What gives?

Men are perplexing beasts.

1) I part ways with an Australian fellow who made a series of bad choices which ultimately killed our relationship. The last correspondence was an email I sent about two years ago which basically said, "I don't hate you, just leave me be, okay?" The other day, he calls me. It's 4am in Melbourne, so he's probably drunk. I let it go to voicemail. When I listen to it, yup, he sounds blasted. He says he's had two years to think about the things I said in that email, and then hangs up.

2) A longtime male friend (full disclosure: with whom there had been some occasional kissing in the past, but not for ages and it was no longer a factor,) blew off a trip I'd invited him on. Since we had been very close but hadn't hung out for a while, I was hoping the little jaunt would provide a long-overdue catch-up. Well, he dropped the ball, enough so I missed a travel deal, and ultimately had to go on this trip alone. Nearly three months go by, not a peep from him. I run into him the other day and he says he's leaving town for good, didn't I get the Facebook invite to his going-away party? Uh, nope.

3) An attractive guy I meet at an event flirts with me outrageously in front of his girlfriend. She pops off to chat with people across the room, and he kisses me full on the mouth.

4) During three months on match.com, I send about fifteen emails to fellows paired up with me. Guess how many respond? One. And when I answer his message, I never hear from him again.

These are just four little items that have recently converged to force me to ask, "What gives?" Ultimately I'm not selfish and egotistical enough to think that these are personal affronts. But I have to laugh through my perplexity. I don't get it. Is it the nature of men, that whole Mars/Venus thing that I just don't understand? Or is it me, somehow, attracting this kind of behavior unknowingly?

I have a friend who gets a giggle out of the crazy situations I find myself in. He says, "Only you, Annie, only you." Well, that can't be true, only me. But I am at a point in my life where all I'm looking for is a partner in crime, a lover and best friend to share my wonderful life with. I make it sound simple, because I think it should be simple, and yet I know it's not a simple thing. However these roadblocks are confounding and annoying and give me less hope that what I am looking for is actually out there.

I'd love to give up - at this point, sometimes I'd really like to give up. But I can't. So I guess I just have to endure the irresponsible ones, the selfish ones, the disloyal ones, the uncommitted ones.

And maybe, just maybe, I'll find out that "what gives" is that I will keep slogging through this mess and ultimately earn my partner in crime. That would be nice.

A Treatise On Dating PART ONE (from 2007)

[This is PART ONE of a two-part blog entry I posted on my myspace page in 2007. I thought it was interesting and worth a re-print, given what I'm going through now. Read on...]

In 52 minutes, I'll be meeting a Strange Man. His name is Dan, he's about my age, he works restructuring the public school system, he likes wine, and he's bald. That's all I know about him. And by "strange," I don't mean to imply that he's loony - I hope to jehovahnot. "Strange" as in "unkown to me." Think of it like a blind date. Because that's what it is.

About six months ago, I joined Match.com. There are a lot of men on there. Fewer men in the NYC area, fewer still over 32 and under 46, fewer still who know how to use punctuation, grammar, and spell-check. Dan is one of the very few I "met" on Match. We actually "met" over a month ago, but have both been so busy, we couldn't apparently squeeze an IRL meeting over glass of wine until now. (Mom, IRL is internet-speak for 'in real life.' FYI.) Well, we tried last week, but he cancelled on me at nearly the last minute - "nearly" being the operative word, and sole reason I'm leaving my house in 46 minutes instead of deleting his emails.

This is my first date of 2007! I actually haven't been on a date for a much (much) longer time than that. Don't feel sorry for me - this ain't no pity party. I'm a choosy gal, and this Strange Dan person is by no means the only fellow to show a Match.com or IRL interest in me! (Mom, don't read the rest of this paragraph. I love you.) I mean, I even had some sex in the last few weeks, yay.

Ah, but there's the rub. DATING means: Going on Dates. Out in public. Having food together, drinking wine together. Conversing in slightly crowded watering holes. Checking out a band, a game, a show. And maybe, just maybe, wanting to smooch the other person at the end of the Date. And that is so foreign to me, so forgotten, I'm actually nervous at the thought of leaving the house in 37 minutes. And I do not get nervous. So I'm having a glass of wine before I meet Strange Dan for 'a glass of wine.'

I titled this blog entry PART ONE because I am so very hopeful that tonight might actually elicit a PART TWO. Even though my recent dating history would hardly fill a Post-It, I am looking forward to my Date in 28 minutes. I'm not putting this all on Strange Dan - if there's no chemistry, it's one glass of nice wine and off to Nod. I won't Date just to date. But this is the first new person in such a long time who is gambling, like I am. Who is also going out on a limb and meeting a total stranger to see if there's a connection. Who might even be a little bit nervous himself. Who might be so very aware of the passage of the next 24 minutes as well.

A last gulp of Sancerre rose, check for lipstick on the teeth, obsessive-compulsively feel-around for the keys in the purse, and I'm off. I'm leaving in 8 minutes (22 minutes before the Date) because it's 4 blocks and I'm wearing very high, very sexy heels.

What? Just because I haven't dated in ages doesn't mean I've forgotten how. :)

Oh, Seriously? You Gotta Be Kidding Me (PART TWO)

[This is part two of a two-part blog first published on my myspace page in 2007. Read it and weep.]

Seriously? Seriously??? SERIOUSLY?????? After all this time, the Dating Karma Gods were not inclined to send me a 'gimme,' huh?

And lest you immediately think that I was putting too much on this meeting with Strange Dan... the whole way there I was saying, like a mantra, "just have fun, no big whoop," and I found I really meant it. --Hold on, I have to go check the Equity website and see if the audition I was going to get up at the crack of ass for tomorrow (sorry, Mom, language,) is any other date as well so I can finish the rest of the bottle of the Sancerre rose as I fume here for a bit and then finally, eventually, relax by catching up on last night's installment of "The Riches" and whatever else my DVR has in store for me.

Done, there's a Thursday call too. Game on! So:

He walks in - looking not too far from what I was expecting. Good... I thought he'd be a bit taller, but I was wearing the sexy high heels. Not un-cute, amiable, I thought "okay!..." Seats at the crowded bar had opened up just after I arrived - a scant minute before he came in. (Hey, KARMA, thanks for the seats. I'd have preferred to stand...) He looked a bit casual for a Date - khaki shorts, polo shirt, sweater vest (well, he's no iron man so it looked even more casual than I would have thought...) but, well, now, in all fairness, I should tell you what I was wearing...

Sexy heels (we've been over that part.) Sexy designer grey/black skinny jeans. Black tank top with tie at waist. Nice black Calvin jacket (of the 'Anthem Calvin jacket's,) cute red bangles on wrist, silver hoop earrings, and Mom n' Dad-given emerald pinkie ring with tiny diamonds surrounding: it screams 'class,' it does. Point is --- I LOOKED HOT!!!! CASUAL YET PUT-TOGETHER, FUN YET SEXY, AND HHHHHHOOOOOTTTTTTTT!!!!!

But he looked fine, not awful, I mean it. (Just had to stress how comparitively hot yours truly was.)

Ok, so we start chatting about wine - he appreciated my choice at the wine bar (Mascarello Dolcetto D'Alba) and I was quizzing him about his work since it's such an unsual, seemingly interesting, and essential (!) job... well, a wee voice in the back of my brain was saying, "This guy's either really relaxed and casual, or he's drunk." Comes to pass that a big project was finished today and he'd gone out with co-workers four hours earlier and had had FIVE MARGUERITAS before meeting me. I was so taken aback that I don't know if I can spell 'marguerita' properly. (I keep trying and nothing looks right. Forgive me, Mom.) I mean, you all read the earlier blog, right?, you know I had one glass of wine to calm the nerves. ONE. I can't scream in caps louder - Ohh Ehnn Eeeee. One.

But, okay, like I posited earlier, maybe he was nervous, AND he was celebrating the end of a busy period at work... I'm soooooo generous. So we keep chatting. I start to become aware of this very silibant "sssss" at the end of some phrases. And I see his hands floppily gesticulating at each point he made. Now I'm thinking he's GAY. I-suddenly-can-see-him-sidling-up-to-my-gorgeous-gays-at-a-party-I'm-throwing-and-then-sneaking-back-to-the-bedroom, GAY. And then I think, well, maybe he's loopy. But then I think, while he's chatting away, that none of my gays would give this buffoon the time of day, so why the hell am I? But I am nice. And generous. And willing to give the guy a break.

So we keep talking. I ask a lot of questions. He asks... a couple of questions. I indulge my growing boredom while at the same time answering a rare question by telling the very interesting story of how Mom got me into the Mets. (Thanks, Mom, I love you!) I ask about this, I ask about that... and suddenly, before I know it, he starts up and I'm on this passionate defense of my industry and career as a whole. He's blasting the concept of Unions, and I'm trying to assert my critical yet supportive view of my relationship with mine. He is relentless and vehement, and I'm looking at this guy and thinking, "This is a Date?!?" He is coming at me from angles that make no sense and are righteous and this isn't a conversation and the bartender is all the way down at the end of the bar and my glass is empty, not like I want to stay but please help me dull the pain...

And he throws his Amex down on the bar. "Here," I go, reaching for my purse. He offers, "No, I got it." "Well, let me contribute!" I say cheerily. I pull out two twenties. He shoves them under the Amex, reaches in his pocket, pulls out a billfold, hands me a five, and says, "You're emasculating a Southern Gentleman, here."

AHHHH!!!! I think if he's a Southern Gentleman, he should push the two twenties back to me and insist it's on him! I'd take them back at that point. But HE GAVE ME CHANGE while tsk-tsk-ing me! And, also, I don't think that's emasculation. Emasculation is when you are drunk in a bar and you wantonly kiss a very cute guy who works for the circus, and you decide you don't think he's a very good kisser, so you give him KISSING LESSONS right there in the bar, complete with verbal instruction as well as practical application. In front of his friends and everybody. THAT'S emasculation, my friends. (But, Angus, it was worth it, right?!) (Oh, crap, Mom, you didn't read that last part, did you?)

Well, at least I was thrilled we were paying the bill. I gracefully said goodnight, thanks for the conversation (!?!?!?) and I hope to jehovah he didn't think I was cute. I teetered home on my sexy heels, put on the sweats, poured a glass o' vino, and here I am.

Let me just say, the guy who finally gets me - is going to be one lucky, fulfilled, adored, challenged, supported, sexually over-satisfied sonofabitch.