I know, I know. Blogging of late has been slight-to-nonexistent, and those of you (all three) out there in cyberland who have been severely deprived of your "what's Chris up to now?" fix just want to know what the heck that's all about.
Truth be told, there hasn't been all that much of interest to report, and I hate to be one of those sad, sad bloggers who feels compelled to write about each and every single mundane, banal or otherwise important-only-to-me episode merely as an exercise in wasting someone else's valuable bandwidth.
Besides, now that it's officially Summer, which means that anybody in this neck of the woods with any real sense is outside trying to accumulate 12 months worth of Vitamin D production in the next eight weeks or so.
But, in case you were wondering, here's what I've been up to:
Publicity for The Show is coming along rather well; I've managed to nail down four preview articles, including three of the four major dailies/weeklies, which I'm being told is the best response they've had to-date for pre-opening publicity. We managed to secure a commitment from our local Congressional Representative to be the guest speaker for the closing Gala event, which should be a good draw. Programs are nearly done; PR packets in the offing, and cast hospitality still to go. I have to keep reminding myself that just because the show opens in a week, doesn't mean my job is necessarily done -- have to get those butts in the seats for all four weeks after all.
Domestically, my teensy garden plot is growing like mad. The cillantro, basil & oregano are already big enough to allow for minimal harvesting and the peppers are beginning to sprout flowers, so if my friends come through again with their usual annual massive tomato harvest, much salsa-making shall ensue.
Still no full-time job, but I haven't stopped looking. There are prospects "in the pipeline" as they say, but none of them seem to be in any sort of hurry to get through the initial weeding-out process and into the first-round interviews.
This being summer in Seattle, it's a time of nearly non-stop festivals: the Fremont Solstice Festival was a couple of weekends ago, last weekend was the annual Utilikilts bar-b-que, plus my friends in "Awesome" did a private gig in the converted garage space of another set of mutual friends, and then to top off Saturday, my upstairs neighbors held a little soiree in honor of local filmmaker Jill Freidberg ("This Is What Democracy Looks Like"), who's just completed a new documentary on the decades-long teacher's strike in Mexico. The film showed at our own little neighborhood movie theatre, the Central Cinema where they had to add an extra late-night showing to accomodate the crowds wanting to get in. And that wall all just in one day!
And in two weeks I'll trek down south to PDX for my Grandmother's 90th birthday and a mini family reunion, then the following weekend it's the second weekend of 14/48: The World's Quickest Theatre Festival, at our new location on Capitol Hill (coincidentally, still conveniently located within walking distance of my current abode), where I'll be manning the grills again among other duties.
That all ought to keep me busy and out of trouble for the next several weeks, so now that you're up-to-date, you'll know why you probably won't hear much from me in the meantime.
I bought a half-gallon of ice cream yesterday. Not an earth-shattering event by any stretch, but it was the first time I've had frozen dairy product in my possession since leaving The Former Job.
I don't know why, but for the past week or so I've had ice cream cravings. I don't normally have a "sweet tooth", although occasionally I'll indulge, but usually it's either in the form of pure chocolate or pastry-type items. So why ice cream all of a sudden -- who knows? Maybe I'm Lactose Deficient; maybe it's due to the change in the weather; maybe it's a subconscious desire to return to the security of my former employment situation; but for whatever reason I've been thinking about ice cream quite a bit lately.
Of course, I'm on a strict budget these days, what with trying to live on 75% of my previous salary without dipping even further into my meagre savings, so I didn't exactly opt for top shelf product. No Haagen Daz, or Snoqualmie, or Tillamook, not even Ben & Jerry's. Just the plain, old, Kroger house-brand Rocky Road. But it still tasted quite yummy when I got it home and tore into the packaging.
Now the trick is to see how long I can make it last.
Saturday, June 12, 2:30 p.m. Intersection of 12th & E. Pine St.
I was on my way to supervise a photo shoot for The Show, when on the street beside me about fifty bicyclists started lining up in the left-turn lane. Now, normally a pack of weekend bikers wouldn't be all that unusual around here, but this group was definitely not-the-norm.
They were naked.
Most of them anyway, some body painted, a few coyly sporting shorts or bikini bottoms, but otherwise in the buff. Evidentally, it was some sort of organized event.
So, okay. No big deal. It was like a preview of next weekend's Solstice Parade. Heck, even the cops standing outside the East Precinct station on the corner seemed mildly amused.
But then, the light turned green.
I was the pedestrian, so I should have had the right-of-way, you would think. There I was, smack-dab in the middle of the crosswalk when suddenly I was surrounded by a moving horde of naked bicyclists, weaving around me and waggling various and sundry body parts like I was a rodeo barrel. Maybe they thought I'd enjoy the up-close show, but frankly it's a bit difficult to feel tittilated when you're in the middle of a swarm of people hurtling past you on mechanical devices that can bang you up pretty good, given sufficient impact-force.
I really wanted to shout, "HEY! Just because you're NAKED, it doesn't mean you can abuse the law!" But that just seemed totally pointless -- I mean, thumbing their noses (among other things) at the rules was obviously what this gaggle was all about.
Fortunately, I emerged on the other side of the intersection unscathed. Unfortunately, I didn't have the presence of mind to "whip out" the cellphone cam for a quick moblog snap.
It's rather blurry (yeah, yeah phonecams aren't all they're cracked up to be), but that's Molly on the left & our mutual friend JayeW on the right, engaging in a little GOG Arm Wrestling Action (JayeW was prepping for a fundraiser later last evening), at our fun-lovin' Annex Theatre "Pizza Night" (basically an excuse for all of us to get together, eat pizza and show off our latest work, of which I had -- none.)
As I left my apartment this morning, I was suddenly confronted with two very angry crows who proceeded to continuously dive-bomb me as I walked down the front steps. At first I thought they were after the day-old scone I was planning to eat for breakfast on my way to the bus stop, however, despite their shreiking, the pastry remained untouched atop the large mound of plastic bags and bottles I was taking down to the recycling bin.
My co-worker had mentioned yesterday that she'd been attacked by crows while walking during her lunch break; apparently, they were after strands of her hair (which has a nice, shiny silvery tint to it), presumably as nesting material. So, on my way through the yard I was beginning to wonder if indeed there was some sort of Hitchcockian avian mass mindset at work here. Were the crows finally revolting, taking the first fledgling steps toward eventual World Domination?
As it turns out, in my case at least it was something rather more prosaic. When I reached the gate at the front of the yard that leads to the steps going down to the street, I encountered a juvenile crow, probably two or three months old sitting on the cobbles directly in front of me, its pin feathers in disarray from the rain. As I got closer, the two airborn birds (obviously the parents) increased their attack, swooping down ever closer and thrashing through the trees to send heavy sprays of rain water pouring down on my head. The little nestling immediately began flapping its wings and with some effort proceeded to trundle back up the walkway in an attempt to escape my threatening proximity, so I just stepped aside and waited for it to pass by, while Mom and Dad continued to harrass me from above. It was clearly having difficulty trying to get off the ground, and I had serious doubts as to whether it could get aloft successfully on it's own. But, I also knew that trying to pick it up probably would have been the worst thing I could have done -- for both of us -- and so I cautiously backed through the gate carrying my bundle of recyclables.
The adults continued to harangue me all the way down the steps and out onto the sidewalk, where I deposited my articles in the appropriate bins and headed off for the bus stop a few blocks away. After about 50 feet or so, they ceased their cawing and turned their attention back to their offspring, presumably still earthbound.
Good thing too, I thought as I began munching on my scone, Because the neighbors' cats are going to be a much bigger problem than me.