homecomings

Back from Nashville late last night. We flew in from Dallas late, with a drowsy air crew who had been on bumpy clouds all day. They didn't even serve us a drink, and we caught them both dosing during the flight.
Some of our fellow travelers were from Houston, they'd driven to Austin last week, then flown to Vegas to wait out the storm. (Odds are, they are still in Austin today.)
After being on two long flights over the last two weeks, it's just good to be home. I picked up Keni from the doggie hotel this morning, arriving before they even officially opened. He came right up to me, tail waggin. The staff said he was an angel, but he seemed 'stiff and sore'. His hips are old in dog years, he's my old best friend. He's asleep in the cool hallway now.
My Dad decided to postpone his birthday party until August due to 'Rita. Steve's train home was cancelled due to 'Rita'. He's now working his way home in a rental car. (My boyfriend doesn't believe in airplanes unless they are headed to Europe. )
Annalise is asleep.
The house is quiet.
Next year, Annalise will likely be living in Nashville, at the school we just visited. She'll be ambling around that tiny campus, making friends, playing her guitar and starting her own life.
Today, we're home.

Keni

This is about my dog, Keni. This is about my daughter seeing him across the street one day and telling me "that's my dog." This is about living in Seattle and feeling a little out of place and finding a dog who is gentle, smart, and who likes to know where everyone is. This is about going to the park with Annalise to practice batting and how Keni came along with us and watched and helped. This is about teaching Annalise to ride her bike and how Keni came along and helped. This is about a dog who once ran into a little lake after some geese and then turned around and stared at all of us as if he had completely forgotten he's a herding dog, not a swimming dog. This is about having a dog to help me be a Mom, to help Annalise be a friend, to help us both feel more like a family, like there was more than just the two of us. This is about being able to say on your answering maching, "Hi, you've reached Stacy, Annalise and Keni, please leave us a message." This is about feeling sad about something, or scared, or worried and having a tall beautiful dog come up and nudge you or stare at you so you know it's all okay. This is about having a strange man come up to you at the park one day and having your dog go up to him and gently push him away, that's what collies do and it works. This is about taking 8 days to drive from Seattle to Texas, with your dog. This is about that dog peeing in the entrance to a hotel where you stopped late one night, a hotel that allowed dogs and didn't clean up much. This is about having a bad car wreck and being in the hospital for a week and having your dog come up to you and then just sit next to you all day once you finally came home. This is about how thankful I am that Annalise looked across the street that day.

Dread Locks

Wednesday, I got into a dread state until a friend kicked me the hell out of it. I love friends who don't let me slack off...who know I'm better than that.

NYC

Kat got Nevie and I up and out the door to run again this a.m. Up at 5:30 yesterday, slept in this a.m. and didn't get up until 6:30 a.m. Workshop is good. I'm meeting others producers I can kvetch with and I'm learning, too. There are lots of very nice people here.
NYC is muggy and warm, still there's a freshness in the air. I like it.
Kat is distracting me, she can't decide what to wear. Neither can Lorie, who is looking for a shoe horn. Me? I'm wearing my signature outfit...at least according to Kat. Nevie, of course, looks terrific as always. Soon, I hope, soon, we will march forth into the day, into NYC, into this workshop!
(one thing: I just want to say that this team, our team, is pretty damn efficient. We're getting it all done in a big way.)

my Dad

My Dad is turning 70 on September 25.

Today I got an email telling me that a man with the last name of Schoolfield was living in Nigeria with his family and they had a bad car accident and everyone died and they left 10 million dollars in a bank in Nigeria. They had to search and search and search to find ME, his only surviving relative.

So, of course I forwarded the email to my Dad to ask him if we had any family in Nigeria and if he wanted to go with me to collect the money. He replied to the email as follows:
RE: e mail of 9/13/2005


Dear Jim Aganatta
Did not know we had anyone in Africa kin to us. Am sorry they had an accident. Please send me details regarding their demise so I can make funeral arrangements for them. We Schoolfield's take care or our own.
Respectfully submitted,
John Schoolfield

I love that my almost 70 year old Dad can still have fun with email.

a day of good fortune

Luck struck three times today and always in a big way, with nice people, and involving making things easier and less expensive.

I also heard from two old friends who I love to pieces and have neglected.

I don't give much credence to astrology, it has always seemed to me that if destiny is in the stars it should also be in the dirt and the water, and the air...I do believe in Grace and today, Grace was dipping her wings into my tiny world.

when the past comes creeping back

With the internet and easy acess to phone number and addresses, you can almost expect that at some point in your life, you'll hear from an ex-beau. The unexpected phone call or email. The anticipation of some kind of catch in the throat, or a nervous tic right near the eyebrow.
Yet, when the call comes, or the email arrives, there's less of a punch than expected. It's more like when you're scouting around the attic or cleaning out a closet and you stumble on a photo that you'd forgotten about, or when you leaf through an old book and a dried up, rose slips out onto the floor. It's less about what you missed and more about what you forgot you had.
Still the contact takes me back. It takes me back to a time, not a day and what I remember is not the man, not the love I wanted to be truer than it was or the connection stronger.
What I remember is how I young I was, how young Annalise was, how different we both are now. The man, while a dear, sweet soul, is just a part of the bigger story.
This is the best kept secret of being a young parent...when you grow up with your child, you can gauge your past on something besides your own history. You remember when that child started talking and walking and then talking back and riding her bike too fast and singing and bringing home notes from school saying what a neat person she is. You remember the time she stood up to the mean kid and how she gave you the special ring she made out of wire and how you wore it to work like you promised and people thought you had really bad taste but you knew they had no clue. You remember the school play, the report on Argentina and you remember making an Artic Fox out of newspaper and balloons and tissue paper. ( I kept it for years and one day it just kind of dissolved.)
So, the old beau calls and you think all these memories will converge on you and overwhelm you and instead you realize your past is so damn rich and full of stories, you can just smile and remember every one of them.

doin our best...

My Grandma Dovie used to say, " all you can do is your best, and that's a lot." She raised three boys, all born within a year or two of each other. Only 17 when she had my Dad, her first, and my uncles followed soon after. They could afford three pair of Levis for each boy, one to wear, one to wash and one ready for the next day. She always had three pair of jeans drying on her clothesline.
When her kids grew up, she opened her own business. When my grandpa had a stroke, she cared for him until he died. Through it all, she was active in the Baptist church, the Southern Baptists, the spaghetti dinner, love your neighbor Baptists, the kind that brought food over when you needed some home cooked comfort, the kind that spent more time doing for people then judging people. Grandma was a doer, she always did her best.

She and my grandpa visited me when I lived in Wales, the three of us had quite an adventure touring the U.K. together. While grandpa and I talked about our favorite British poets, grandma would be out talking to people about their kids. When I had Annalise, too young, too barely married, she and my grandpa became our biggest fans, they didn't care about the crumbling marriage, or the fact that I was soon to be divorced, they knew I was doing my best, just like they always told me.

She still does her best, even in her nursing home. Alzheimer's took part of her away, far away, still she sits and tells stories, talks about what she's going to do and how much she loves everyone. The nurses love her, they call her lovey dovie.

"All you can do is your best, and that's a lot. Make your mistakes and move on." Some days are full of mistakes, or obstacles or turning points, some days lay before you like a perfect paragraph, just keep on going.

shoring up the world, one sack at a time

after a rumble of a kickball game on Saturday (during which my team, the poacher vipers, lost by a few points...) then after lunch with the J.O.B. music supervisor (he's pretty amazing!) I took 10 sacks of stuff to my neighbors house for delivery to the Hurricane survivors.
Sacks from one of our actors, sack from one crew member, sacks that Annalise and I gathered up...

My neighbor who as led our 'hoods effort in helping with the relief said the survivors were in dire need of bedding and towels, so Annalise and I took a car load to the sorting center.
I started tearing up when I saw how many cars were streaming in to unload bedding, diapers, infant formula, water, towels, shoes. We were all greeted by weary and good natured volunteers who took our stuff and efficiently sorted it into piles. It was then deposited into a waiting van that took the items to the Frank Erwin center/ palmer auditorium and the Tony Berger center.

Annalise decided to start a fund drive at her high school, and spent part of yesterday making donation cans for the Red Cross.

There is some comfort in doing what you can, there's definite comfort in seeing the generosity of your neighbors and your town. It brings people outside of their houses, their lives and offers us a chance to shore it all up, make it right, make it better.
It's comfort.

heart sick

i hate being so far away with all these people in complete dispair. i want to do something. i want to pick up one of the babies and hug one of the old people and i want to carry medical supplies around and find the stray pets...
i'm embarrassed and sick about how this country is handling this...it makes me ill to think of those people waiting for four days for a bus...for water, for food...

back to gathering up clothes.

Matthew 25: 40
[40] And the King will answer them, `Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brethren, you did it to me.'

chaos

art comes from chaos.
peace comes from chaos.

chaos comes from a big storm that blows in enough water to float cars.
chaos comes from storing people in football stadiums for 4 days.

chaos comes from wading away from your home, leaving all your stuff, your entire home, the pictures, the favorite slippers, the shirt your kid gave you for your birthday and the first soccer trophy your kid brought home, the funky one where it looks like the kid is upside down balancing on the ball, it comes from leaving all that and wading through waist high sewage water to be bused to the Astrodome, while your government figures out how to approve emergency help for you, your family, your neighbors, your fellow citizens, and the bus never comes.

Thanks to the Humane Society, right now buses are headed to Austin that include people and their four legged best friends. The Red Cross shelter won't let the pets inside, however, the Humane Society will set up a little pet camp right near by.
Temporary shelter is all we can provide, a roof, some clean dry clothes, a place to shower, water to drink, food to eat, maybe some books to read...and a place for your pet. When you have to leave everything else behind, having people find a way for you to keep your pet can mean the whole world.