Tag Archives: walks

Random

6 Jun

Often, I don’t know how I have survived this far. 

…I am sound enough in mind to hold down a job and function, and do all the adulting of paying bills (etc.) I’ve pulled a giant week already. It’s only Tuesday, and have already done payroll for 14 builders, balanced $900,000 in Open Orders, assigned 40 jobs, built nearly 80 contracts, did rehearsal for a Planned Parenthood benefit read, and tonight had another phone interview so intense, my butt started sweating.

…I hung up from that call with yet another interview (on Thursday) set, and two more hoops to jump through after that. So I immediately drove to the the site (in order to find it with ease, later), came back home again for a walk (in what I like to call “Money Hill,”) through sunset, while listening to my absolute favorite West Wing Weekly podcast episode to date (“Bartlet for America”), and now: I’m home.

Home, and cooking my dinner of tots, with a side of Mai Tai, listening to Caitlyn Moran’s ” How To Be A Woman.”

It is 10:47.

A part of me worries that as an adult human, this is just part of life. One can’t really say, “right now,” as I’m not exactly 20, with room to grow out of it. Ate a goat cheese arugula and cranberry salad for dinner last night. And now: I’m popping too-hot potato-coals into my mouth, laughing at both the pronunciation and content of the book, while simultaneously thought-posting and drinking juice-spiked alcohol.

I got my walk in. I did my work. I performed one hell of an interview. I have plans (after this) to turn in my 40th application, before bed.

(Literally, my 40th. I am not playing at random number drops.)

This is my life.

I’ve just got to accept it.

…Caitlyn is now on a stint talking about the labia, pronouncing it, “lab-ia,” and I am (not for the first time) charmed by our tomatoes/toe-ma-toes cultural differences. It is a rare moment ‘tween a myriad of “minge” and “front-bottom” when she calls out the actual anatomy. My favorite thing about this book is that The Brits have more ways to talk about private parts, without ever actually saying the name of the private part, than probably any other people in all of time. And also: Moran is pretty fierce. I’m not 100% on her team…but like 90% is a damn good sell these days.

…Meanwhile: am out of tots and I’ve got more job boards to scour. 

It is 11:10.

…Lets do this thing…

~D

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Insanity, Death & Other Trails

2 Jun

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The Pacific NW is packed full with ridiculous amounts of rambling trails cutting in and out of it’s natural habitats. 

…The feel is very rainforest meets old south, on account of the humidity factor, being always right on the ocean or near to a lake, and the obvious rainfall factor. 

Unlike the California trails we wandered when I was a kid, one can’t just pick a spot in the forest and “go,” unless one had a machete, knee-high boots, and a pair of welder gloves on, to help battle the sick mess of berry bushes, wild thorns, giant ferns, and vine-eaten, moss-dripping, decaying old trees, so cramming the forest under-canopy that you can’t get a foot hold in edgewise.

…And the people here like it that way. 

At some point, some brave bastard will pick a spot, forge a trail, and get the word out enough times that the footpath will be partially upkept by other hikers. And so our forests on any mountain drive, can be seen to have trail heads poking out in any number of random locations, which you take in good faith, and often interlink at some point with other forged paths, like a network of snail trails in a garden.

The Pac NW-ers are very big on these.

It’s pretty here, always green, and the canopies help umbrella the rain…because of course we don’t stop for that, otherwise we’d never see daylight, again.

We also have cultivated gardens as well. Quite a lot of them.  Because (again), it’s pretty here and always green.  So why not?

…Funny thing is that even the cultivated gardens seem like something out of a gothic novel, as even the old large estates keep to the el naturale effect.

Wild natural gardens with indigenous ground covers, mosses and vines are meticulously manicured so that even the larger pay-to-play mansion and state-park run formal gardens, look like they grew the houses out of their root structures as part of the budding of their plants. Which is eerie and awesome and reminds me of so many of the Irish ruin walks and Manor estate gardens we wandered through back in 2007. 

…Which is all to say: “I like it here.”

There is a history sense of reclaiming of nature pretty much everywhere you go. We haven’t become so built up that you can’t get away from it all within a ten minute drive in any direction, and there are places you can go and feel off the grid, and your phone doesn’t bing with text and phone alerts, and the music doesn’t thump from out of car windows, and the smell of “green” (you’d know it if you smelled it) is so strong, you just wanna wrap up and take a nap in it.

…So, naturally, I take a lot of walks.

…And yesterday was National Trail Day.

…So Ma and I took several.

The first: one of those Mansions that seems to be grown out of the ground along with everything else sprouting up. Lakewold Gardens, sporting both the boxed-hedge chic of patio gardens, as well as the wild trail-networking rock garden further toward the lake.  They were setting up for a wedding while we were there…and I’d have to say, it’s a hell of a backdrop for one.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…And from there, we motored to Fort Steilacoom where the old Asylum and Cemetery are surrounded by giant dog and people parks, and trails cutting back into the hill.  Phone juice had died, so no pics, which is a shame because the trails remind you of corn mazes, so buried you become by solid walls of knotted berry bushes and undergrowth, that you can often only see the next turn.  The entire hill is networked with trails branching off of and into others, so that by the time you make the top-most clearing you can see dozens of them directing in every which way, leading downward to the lake.

The lake, now named for Dr. Waughop, had the most amazing mass-cluster of water lilies I’ve ever seen (live or otherwise) and it’s walk eventually leads back to the old barns and cemetery.  The graves, mostly dating from the mid 1800’s to 1950’s, are each number-plated on a mass-grave map posted by the parks department, and only when walking on the land itself, can you see the sunken headstones of new marble, which are part of the restoration and archiving of the people who once resided just up the hill, in the now ruins of the old Insane Asylum. 

Like all old cemeteries, it was totally fascinating to walk…not only for the history and sheer mass number of those buried there, but the fact that it is the only plot of land, in all of that acreage, almost entirely grown over with a blanket of old moss in lieu of actual grass, and even where the stone markers have not yet been replaced, you can tell where each body is interred because of the distinct sink of ground, and the shoots of wildflowers and grass blades rising from them, fed, like living memorials, from those buried just beneath.

…Was a good day, friends.

And now I’m off to see what I can make of this one 🙂

~D

Then, Onto Serious Matters…

24 May

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Beethoven in the background.

…I’ve just finished beating the hell outta my giant pink-bubble-gum Pilates ball, (with some added Yoga), and am celebrating my efforts with a heavy-handed homemade margarita that tastes about 200 proof.

…I am not a greener, you guys.  If I’m expected to work out, there must be some give and take, here. 

Besides…I already did like a five mile beach walk today at Point Defiance.  Plus rehearsal.  Plus walked the mall.  So it’s not like I haven’t earned this five-stiff-drinks-in-one.

An excellent day off.

Slept until 10:30 (which is totally unheard of, especially where cramping is concerned.)

…Lazed about a bit, regrouped over coffee, motored to mall to get nails done while watching Streep be magnificent in “Devil Wears Prada” in the background.  Then: did some summer shirt-shopping, off to beach-walk, had a sandwich, did lines and scene work at rehearsal, and beat it over to Barnes and Noble, till they kicked me out.

Home to working out with the giant pink-bubble-gum ball…to the tunes of Glenn Miller.  (It totally works, and makes it all a lot less horrible.)

…Debated more De Profundis.  Decided to blog first. 

…Beethoven selected. 

After all that lightness and air and incidental flippancy, I want a little more  grounded heft. 

I like heft.

I love Beethoven.

I blame him (almost exclusively) for my total closet devotion to doomed unrequited love stories.

…Well, him and the Brontes.

…But, still.

Sometimes you just need some background yearning.

…He also makes me want to “make” something.  Mostly, write. He makes me want to push aside these trivial little blog posts I’ve been devoted to for nigh onto a year now, and make something really legitimate.  Something dark or irksome or  full of complications.  Not even in content, even just in sentence structure, and thought process.  Haven’t done that in so long, I’ve forgotten how.

…But then I’ll hear the beginning of a movement…and I’ll see the picture of thought he paints instantly in my brain.  And how immediate the feelings follow it, and how personal and intimate it becomes.  And I start to remember how much I loved writing like that.  As if it mattered.  Not just for a lark.

…Back when it was about “content” not just daily requirement.

Art comes in so many varieties.  And the influence of one on another, is like a waterfall affect with me. 

De Profundis…such a serious text and consideration on the responsibilities of what it means to be an “artist” and the accountability that comes with it, is obviously pushing me in that mindset as well.  Delving into Oscar by day, in all his ridiculous and delicious glory, then investing in his darker side at night, is this whole new combining experience that makes me want to explore the same in my own little creationary world.

…There is obviously room for both. 

So, tonight is Beethoven, and some prose maybe.

Supremely rusty on that bent, but it’ll come back to me.

One hopes.

Off for a try at least…

~D

A Day On The Island

4 May

Nature Retreat Day, in the form of Bloedel Reserve

150 acres of walking trails, on a sunny day.  Good for the brains and body!  Tomorrow, rehearsals begin, so took the opportunity for fresh air and exercise and ran with it!

A brief tour:

…First the Gate House, and entrance walk.

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…The wide meadow hills leading to the barn.

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…Gate House from the meadow.

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…Play with light and shadows.

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…I like to call it: “Medusa Moss.”

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…Nurse Trees totally amaze me.  To see hundred year-old fossil-like logs, with fifty year old full grown trees growing out of ’em boggles my mind.  Here we have but a new beginning.

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…Approaching the Manor House from the trails.

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…Love me some wheeping willow.

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…A taste of refinement married with nature.

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…Manor House from the rear…

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…And it’s view of The Sound, and lower lawns.

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…The lower landing walk.

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…Manor House from the lower lawns.

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…The Japanese Guest House.

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…With Zen Garden.

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…And I got mine.

Back home to rest, rehydrate and ready for tomorrow 🙂

~D

Continual Search Of…

31 Mar

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Trying to find comfort from cramping all day.

…Heating pads, countless cups of tea, a walk…sitting, standing, laying…pills, fizzy waters…nothing has helped. 

Perpetual discomfort all day, and it’s ramping.

…So am off to bed, in desperate need of sleep.

Tomorrow: month-end completion, and weekend sells hit.

I already just wanna cry.

…But I could take it, if I could just get some sleep.

~D

Censored

30 Mar

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In lieu of the blog I want to write right now, I’m going out into the sunshine.

…I’ll take in all the different colors…count them, name them…whatever occurs to me at the time…so I can collect them up and bring them with me across the day and keep them with me tonight when I have trouble sleeping.

…Deep breathes of clean sea air.

…Crunch of footsteps on rock and sand.

…Maybe I’ll sit at a picnic table and watch a single solitary ant, weaving back and forth across the wood grains…with whatever busy ant-like thoughts and projects it seems to be compelled to do today.

…I’ll pick some wildflowers and bring them home with me.

…Watch some kids play…

…Take my shoes and socks off to feel green grass between my toes.

…Consume the day with all my senses like a poet…with every taste, texture, touch, and sound, expressed in specific, heightened detail.

I’m taking a day to be grateful for all the things that I have…none of which can be bought or sold in a store, achieved with hard work and determination, or negotiated with a contract.

Today is about all the things that have just been gifted to me.

(and you too, by the way.)

…For free.

It’s free.

…And I can’t, with good conscience, ignore that today.

~D

Ongoing Jewish MILFism

3 Mar

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Great day! 

…Finished my book in PJ’s, made a breakfast salad, jumped in shower by 10:30, and went for 5 mile walk on Owen’s Beach at Pt. Defiance.  The weather is ridiculously amazing today, and it felt so good to get out of a building and breathe fresh sea air!!

…Then back for a lunch of a veggie burrito, and some rest time with the BBC on stream. 

…And then: Lines.

Lines, lines, lines.

Am off book for Act I now, but still need the script for blocking purposes. 

Never having run the scenes after blocking, (but before moving onto the next one, as is the fashion)…in order to get it finished within the crammed scheduled time…I have zero sense memory to go off of. The movements are frequently not based around our own lines but other people’s…so, recalling every shift and counter (even though they are all written down) is going to take a bit longer. 

…Sorta like a less manic version of the time I did “Noises Off”, and had to get 300% off book for lines, so I could spend all my time reading my intricate blocking, and prop usage like a book, at speed.

Tonight, we begin actual scene work, with two of them slotted…which still seems a large bite to take for 2.5 hours in review, with first crack at the blocking. But then I never thought we’d seriously block over 30 pages per day, either.  So who the hell knows what will happen.

…We have 8 more rehearsals before our first Act run…which is 20 hours of rehearsal.  2.5 hours after that, we run Act 2…and our first full run is 12.5 hours after that.  This is totally doable. I just tend to panic with large chunks being eaten, right off the back.  You tend to choke  a bit when that happens.  But, this is a new process, a new Director, a new house.  As a campaigner in a new theatre of War, I just gotta relax, keep my kit in order and up to date, and trust in the Captain. 

So I will.

…Meanwhile, am embracing my inner Jew, and lines, while sashaying around the house like a harlot.  It’s been a while since I’ve been called on for this kinda part. The one where you are overwhelmingly self-secure in the fact that matron 42 is the new sexually ripe 20. 

…The gams and flirt gets rusty, when you’ve let the body default into frowsy old maid for as long as I have. Time to bust out the “high maintenance,” pop on those heels, and dust off some man-eating MILF.

…Albeit, a slightly ridiculously over-shooting one.

Oh, I can do that.  

…I can do that hard.

I have a fur coat, bitches.

(snap.)

…Mmmm hmmm…

(enter cat purr, sly grin, and overtly obvious wink: here.)

~D

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