New Years Rock, Live!

The production of Schoolhouse Rock, Live! I was in over the summer was revived for a New Years Eve edition on the Ocean City, NJ boardwalk. Originally the plan was for me to drive down the shore, perform, miraculously find my true love and kiss on the stroke of the new year, then drive home to go to my friend's annual New Years party and worry about meeting up with my love at some later point in my life. My parents weren't crazy about me driving on the Atlantic City Expressway and 95 along side of drunken New Years party hoppers (I would be using one of their cars so I couldn't argue this point), so I was going to stay at my dad's boss' house down the street from the theatre and have some friends over for a small evening. The house was winterized, so we made plans for me to stay with my parents at my aunt's parents house in Margate. My mom then asked if there were any parties and I told her about my original plan, so she said that she and my dad would drive me home after the evening of performances. After watching a half hour version of Annie (the Greater Ocean City Theatre Company does wonders) the crew did a quick change over into Schoolhouse and I got costumed, taped, gelled, warmed up, and set I went on for a back to back performance night. I threw snow, became a law, signed the Constitution, circulated, got spanked with a cardboard choo choo, went to space, bowed, ran back stage, stripped off mic, clothes, sweat, not my socks, and met my parents in the lobby. We went out to the pier to count down to the beginning of the end with a crowd of a thousand strangers and witnessed ocean front fireworks at midnight. Two hours later I pulled up to a party that was still hoppin' somewhere in H____town. After ten minutes I dressed down, after seeing that my friends had taken off their ties and make up. It was a soft, honest night of reflections and dreams. I drifted into the four o'clock hour on the floor with a small group of my friends and Tangled. It was all much better than finding love on a pier.

Monday Night's Fankthsgiving Dinner

I'm in Intro. to Fiction right now, but that is beside the point.
Last night I hosted a Thanksgiving dinner in my apartment. The hours leading up to our feast had me nervous. I was terrified the only guests would be my two roommates. There weren't too many guests to begin with, but downsizing from eight to three is sad. Potato skins dropped from the quiet panic of my hands into a large pile in the sink, which I later unclogged so that the water build up could drain. a half hour later I retrieved my friend from the Christmas coated lobby, and she watched as I nervously mashed the potatoes. That's three people, plus myself, at the table. That's doable. She leaves with one of my roommates, my wineglass filled with apple juice in his hand, to find out if our friends from upstairs are coming. When they knocked a dapper young man answered and said the stuffing was in the oven. Thank the Lord. I left to Fresh Grocer to pick up the small chicken for the "turkey" and more pasta. Green beans, corn, mashed potatoes and chicken waiting in the microwave, table set, pictures, where is everybody?, "Don't wear that," more pictures, and it's time to eat. The transition from paranoia to gusta is something that happens every time I host. I will let the pictures explain the rest of the evening.

But where will we eat?

Leaf art

The inside of the pie

The pie, uncooked

Nametag

Nametag

Nametag

The table setting and lovely fireplace

The food

The "turkey"

The table

Here we are!

Pie time