Picture Pages, Picture Pages

My trip home to Tennessee was eventful and I hit the ground running in San Diego, so today I will just hit some of the highlights with "purty" pictures.

During my visit, we moved my Polish grandmother (Busha) into her first Assisted Living apartment, which she alternately loves and resents. In keeping with all things "Busha," she is likely to undergo psychiatric evaluation for her antics.

During the move, my Irish mother (Katie O'Gracie) tripped, fell, and broke her elbow during the auto-da-fé act of moving her own too-heavy bed. Auto-da-fe? Whats the auto-da-fe? It's what you oughtn't to do - but you do anyway. (Thank you, Mel Brooks). She remains bound in a splint and sling.


My traveling father returned home after most of this to find his new Birthday/Father's Day present waiting for him. A present my brother took great pride in "tricking out" with (among other things) a state-of-the-art GPS Navigational Satellite Radio system that gave us the directions to dinner at Applebee's in an Austrailian accent. Too bad we don't have an Outback in Tullahoma.

And though I'd have plenty of air time flying from San Diego to Dallas, Dallas to Nashville, Nashville to Chicago, and Chicago to San Diego in the four days I'd be out of town, I couldn't resist the Father's Day offer to go flying for the first time with my best friend and licensed pilot, Kenny. He'd planned to take his father to the Will Rogers Cherokee Indian Heritage Days Festival in Guntersville, Alabama, but his father's recent heart troubles prevented his flying and I was allowed to take advantage of the rented plane. A nice day out with a friend I see far too little these days.

Of course, there was also the business of cleaning out a long-held trunk of treasures which had become water-logged in my storage unit. When one of those Wal-Mart Special particle board steamer trunks gets wet, it really soaks it up. And when everything inside is paper, you're pretty much in for a total loss. Because I could not scrape all the pieces out to puzzle this once life-sized poster of the Beatles back together, I'm calling this last shot of it "I Keep John Lennon's Head in a Box."

Also lost were all of my own drawings and others I'd kept to remember my Aunt Mary, a very talented artist who died too young. Photos I'd taken on trips to New York, Arizona, and Florida were blurred to resemble bad Jackson Pollock knock-offs. Keepsakes from my school years -- from class photos to First Place ribbons -- were a crumbled mess. Team pictures from my years of basketball, softball, and *ahem* cheerleading (I was young!) -- gone.

I marvelled, at the time, at how similar the water damage was to fire damage, having sifted through the debris of the Manchester Arts Center on my last trip home. Then I had quite the red-faced V8 moment, remembering how most fires are extinguished. Duh!

And finally, I picked up new headshots while in Tennessee. Of course, because I've been using this picture online on both my personal website and this blog the response to the new pic has been rather ho-hum. "New headshots?" They ask, indreculously. "But I've seen this one!" "No you haven't," I insist. "Not PRINTED!" "But it's not NEW...." "Never mind."

Just for the record, this is the old one. The last one I'd had professionally printed and ready to whip out at an audition.

So I hit the ground running back in San Diego, with rehearsals for the two shows I'm performing in the Actors Festival next month.

Up to Now by Julianne Eggold.

And Hear Me Roar by Kristina Meek.

And then there's the show that I'm Stage Managing right before the Festival opens.

I remember now why I didn't like Stage Managing.

Oh, and that last show, Nest? It's being produced in the Sunset Temple on University Avenue. "And just what's so special about the Sunset Temple?" you ask. Well, it ain't where the Jewish spend their Sabbath, my friend. This is the local OddFellows Lodge. The padded doors that open into a barren room appointed only with rows of pew-like seats and several thrones are equipped with a special "what's the secret password" slot which gives the casual observer an oh-so-comfortable feeling of reassurance! And that's all I'm going to say about it outside of those walls.

Friendship, Love, Truth. Out.