This year is really turning around. (Which is good. See: the past two weeks.)
A new president! Not to be all political- I’ll leave that to Slate, Salon and Pinko mag– but I’m completely stoked about Barack, the closing of Gitmo (in a year, sure, okay) and the J. Crew wardrobes that the Obama gals were rocking.
Also, this week brought the newest Schoeny member, Mr. James Boden Schoeny, 7lbs, 7oz. He may go by Boden, Bodie, or (my favorite) The Guy Who Brought My Niece/Nephew Tally to 8. Well played, sir!
I did a revisiony/drafty/outliney-type thing for my new play (yes, the one that got shredded two weeks ago)…and it was thoroughly dug! Now, whether elements were praised because a) they were good, or b) they thought I’d cry without a bit of ego-strokin’, no matter. Either is good. Both are better.
Tonight is the 5th anniversary party of Dog & Pony Theatre, the company that brought us shows like (for example) As Told By the Vivian Girls. Which was recently voted one of the ten best shows of the year in Chi by Timeout Mag. And, you know, the one I worked on for six months. The Hideout, 8pm, DJs, play readings, cheapo drinks, 10 bucks cover; do come.
In other news, I’m continuing on with Pilates awesomeness. (Truly, everyone wins in this scenario: Natalie gets to plow through her training hours, I’m getting in shape quite radly, and P.J. no longer has to listen to me complain about not fitting into jeans whilst eating Cinnamon Toast Crunch from a bowl the size of a stockpot.) Thanks to Natalie, I’m finally learning how to actually hold myself, tone my muscle(s), appear taller(!) and lose a bit o’ weight. How much weight? About five pounds. And maybe an inch or two.
That’s enough of that. I promise not to continually write about ‘la la la weight loss/my period/Lifetime movieish things. I leave that to iVillage/WE, and, you know, Lifetime.
And now, I must go eat a banana for sore muscles (actual advice), tire out the sleepless (and lovin’ it) child Lil, finish up some laundry, get a jump start on Valentine-makin’ for (and with) all of my kiddos, and maybe answer this ringing phone.
Or, as Lily calls it, “Kiki’s hewwo.”
Speak Your Mind