Monday, July 03, 2006
The man behind the counter looked at the two them and before he cracked up laughing he said, “Your fourth of July weekend sucks!”
The Huz and the Parakeet were in Home Depot on Sunday renting a buffer to clean their hardwood floors. They rent, but they are starting to feel that the level of disgusting may not entirely be the landlord’s fault. While they were at it, they crossed the street to Cub Foods and rented a steamer for the upholstery. They were on a cleaning mission.
Sunday was drizzly and gray and the Russells didn’t get up at the crack of dawn by any means. Neither of them are slobs or neat freaks. They live somewhere in the middle and usually the same somewhere in the middle. So, cleaning is not often a topic for disagreement or argument. If anything, they wait each other out on the chores. Lately, though, it has been a little out of hand. The messiness began to stress the Parakeet. When she’s very busy, it doesn’t help to come home to messiness. But it’s not the Huz’s job, alone, to clean the apartment.
So…in anticipation of lots of Summer company and out of necessity, they did a Spring cleaning in July.
The Parakeet wiped down baseboards and vacuumed furniture. The Huz cleaned windowsills and buffed floors. While a miracle did not occur in Logan Square, the place sure smells better and is a bit shinier. It’s nice to sit in the living room this way.
Since they didn’t start early, they were plugging away, sweating and straightening until 10PM. Crazy, kind of boring, way to spend one day of the Holiday weekend, but strangely rewarding.
ahhh….a clean house.
Friday, July 07, 2006
Monday morning the Huz and the Parakeet woke up quite early and got on the blue line together. The Huz did not have to go to work. The Parakeet had to go in for an hour. To ensure that the day was only an hour, the Huz came along. Who is going to make you keep working when your Huz is standing there waiting for breakfast? No one, I tell you. No one with a heart.
The plan was flawless and they left the office just after eight. They ate breakfast and began a mission, a project, an adventure. They returned two forms of cleaning equipment. They took out some cash. They checked the mail. They bought the dog some spray for his ailing paw. Poor guy. In short, they ran errands. The adventure began when they wanted those pesky Museum passports from the public library. A secret is about to be revealed: if you live in Chicago and have a library card, you can go to the museums for free. Catch: there has to be a pass available. The Huz and the Keet wanted to stock up for the parent’s visit and they didn’t want to go to the DuSable museum which seemed to be all that was available. After calling thirteen libraries (no lie), they raced down to the Vibe and sped over to Uptown (where apparently no one has been let in on the secret). They were able to snag both the Planetarium pass AND the Field Museum pass. No, you can not see the King Tut exhibit with this pass – you just get general admission.
They did indeed find the Golden Ticket.
Saturday, July 08, 2006
The Parakeet was attacked by allergies half-way through last night’s show. She had to hold in a sneeze which sort of jolted her entire body and interrupted choreography down stage center. Subtle as a bulldozer. She was congested the rest of the evening, but managed to get through all the songs. Who knows what did it?
This morning it was worse. Itchy eyes, headache, phlegm. She took Claritin-D. She was meeting a friend at 8:30 for a yoga class and breakfast. Part way through the ride, the medicine kicked in. The yoga class had a substitute teacher who was wonderful, better than the usual teacher even. She was soothing and helpful.
The Parakeet left Yoga and got coffee and ended up talking with her friend for two hours. She feels taller, refreshed and awake. Could this be a Saturday routine? I mean who would have thought just getting up and moving would start a day so well……
Monday, July 10, 2006
The Parakeet, after she raved to the internet about how refreshed she felt, skipped lunch and biked to the theater on Saturday. The sun beat down on her white arms and it felt great. Only fifteen minutes into the show, she stared at her scene partner, realizing it was her line, but doing nothing. She eventually spoke up, but it was bobbled. This happened again – two scenes later – and the Parakeet admitted “I don’t feel good”. In her two minutes off stage, she swallowed a piece of chocolate and a starburst convinced it was low blood sugar. She had an overwhelming desire to sit down and nearly zero concentration.
In one of the zanier sections of the show a man in a dress wearing a blue wig puts a veil on the Parakeet (disguised as Electronic Baby). He puts the veil on backwards so she can not see. The moment he did this and darkness surrounded her, she wobbled. Literally. Physically. She thought she would faint. The Parakeet has never fainted and she didn’t want her first time to be in front of an audience. No matter what size it was.
She didn’t fall, but she fumbled through the next song and had most definitely scared herself. She leaked tears after her exit and could hardly wipe them away before her next scene – where a doctor wearing antlers and a hunting vest worked cleaning her face up into his “schpeal”. You curious about this play yet?
Lesson learned: Do not spend three hours in the sun, choose not to eat, and then expect yourself to sing and dance under lights.
Sing and Dance at home. Alone. Preferably into a ‘hairbrush-microphone’
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
routine or rout or oh…whatever
The Parakeet skipped out of work as quickly as possible. She put on makeup and earrings. She switched from flats to heels. It was possible that she almost looked her age. She rode the Red Line north to her appointment. She signed in, filled out a form with her most personal info – name, address, representation (no measurements this time). They called her name and she walked into the room. She sat in a chair across from three smiling white faces. She read her Scene with a reader. Once. No directions or questions just a “Thank you, Good Job, Nice to Meet you.”
The Parakeet left strangely calm. It really is becoming routine after years of the same. She waited on the bus. In the rain. She switched to the el and managed, in an act of God, to avoid the Smoke-filled catastrophe causing Blue Line she normally would have taken home.
Sometimes a plain old audition is JUST FINE
Thursday, July 13, 2006
Monday, July 17, 2006
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
Friday, July 21, 2006
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Thursday, July 27, 2006
Friday, July 28, 2006
Monday, July 31, 2006