"You're standing in my kumquats!"

I just ate my first kumquat. I'll admit, this wasn't a completely voluntary culinary venture. A girl that I like very much is leaving the library after today, and she went around saying goodbye, and handing out the exotic fruits as a treat. She gave me one before I could think of a polite way to decline. I didn't even know what it was to be honest. When she told me, I was shocked. My only reference for kumquats is a line from the musical, The Fantasticks (see the title). I had imagined them to be bigger, and for some reason greenish brown. And when my friend said I was to eat the peel as well, I was not very excited by the prospect. I don't even like eating any of the white stuff on an orange-I'll literally spend 30 minutes carefully preparing my oranges before I eat them. But I saw no gracious way to get out of it, so I put it in my mouth, and lo and behold, I liked it. A lot. Peel and all. It was a delightful combination of sweet and sour-two of my favorite tastes. I may even add kumquats to my list of things to endorse.

déjà vu

My friends, I know you will not be surprised to hear that I got lost tonight. I get lost far too frequently for it to be a story worth telling, usually. But listen to this:
Tonight I was going to a theatre downtown that I'd not been to before. Not only that, but I needed to go from the upper East side to the lower West side; so I was going to travel from not-every-day territory, to completely unknown territory. I looked up the location on a map, and compared it with my public transportation maps, and figured out how I was going to get there. I was pretty pleased with myself, and left work with no map, but a plan.
Friends, I deviated from the plan, and there's only one thing that can result from that. Say it with me, "I got lost." My plan involved two different buses and it got off to a great start. But I got tired of waiting at the second bus stop, and I saw a subway station nearby with a trainline that I thought I remembered stopping very close to the theatre. So, I got on the train, and instead of looking at the map they conveniently display on the wall to double check that I knew where I was getting off, I took out my book thinking to myself, "I know where I'm going. This'll be easy." So I got off the train, and started walking to the theatre. Right about the time that the streets stopped being where and what I expected them to be and I started to worry that I had no idea where I was, I looked up to a very familiar sight. I was standing right in front of the Chocolate Bar. The exact same place I had been 24 hours earlier (but by an entirely different route). On one hand, a familiar sight is always a relief when one is lost. On the other, it wasn't where I was supposed to be. Okay, here's where I tell you the creepiest part of the story. Last night, on my way to the Chocolate Bar, I got lost. Again, not a big surprise, but I had been delighted to turn up to the right location without any idea how I got there. And now, tonight, I got lost, and quickly turned up at the Chocolate Bar. Coincidence? Or is the Chocolate Bar my own personal Brigadoon? You decide...
Back to tonight's adventure, I called Erin, as I tend to do when I get lost, but since she wasn't with me at the Chocolate Bar last night, my repeatedly saying that I was there did not help her to guide me to where I needed to go. This is where I did something so crazy, you might think I'm making it up, but I'm not. I decided to go into the Chocolate Bar and ask for help. Yes, ask a stranger for help. I thought that if the girls that had been working the previous night were there, I would talk to them, because they had been very nice yesterday. I walked up to the window and looked in, but there was some guy (buying chocolate of all things) obscuring my view. So I edged up to the doorway, and was trying to simultaneously hide behind the door post (in case I didn't recognize anyone in there, then I could sneak away without their knowing I had been about to enter) while craning my neck to look around the customer and see who was behind the counter. That is when one of the girls from last night came walking down the street, and not only caught me in my peculiar position, but was immediately accosted by me. I can't actually remember what the first words out of my mouth were, but I think it went something like this.

CATHERINE: [panicked and frenzied] "Oh good. It's you. I was here last night, and now I'm back, but I don't want to be here, I'm meant to be somewhere else."

Much to her credit, she responded very calmly with, "I thought you looked familiar. Where are you trying to go?" At that point I forgot completely where I had been going, and had to look through my bag for the address. As soon as I laid eyes on said address, I saw that I was two Avenues over from where I needed to be, because 8 and 6 are actually two different numbers, except for in my head, where, it seems they are the same. At this point, I'm sure I was bright red as I shamedly told this nice girl that I knew where I'd gone wrong and I would leave now. In an effort to save face, I left her with this brilliant remark, "You have a very nice shop; I seem to be very drawn to it. Thank you for your help, I'll probably be seeing you tomorrow night." I know, I know. I am such a weirdo.
But the point of my far to long tale is this: It's kind of scary, and kind of cool that I found this store twice when by all rights, I shouldn't have found it either time. And also, I like to think that maybe the Chocolate Bar girl has a blog too, and maybe she's writing on it right now about the crazy girl who keeps coming in.
Laura tells me that I'm to write a review of every play that I see, and that's what I was going to write about tonight, but now that'll have to wait until tomorrow. Unless I somehow find my way back to the Chocolate Bar going from the library to the church across the street tomorrow night, in which case, that'll definitely be the topic of discussion.

Cocoa & Co.

Tonight the hot chocolate club (which Amy aptly named Cocoa & Co.) went to the Chocolate Bar. It was a very nice place, and open until 10pm! Good to know. I got a raspberry hot chocolate with some trepidation (some places that use syrup to flavor their beverages are just yucky), but I was delighted with the result. Not too fruity, just a nice hint of berry. This place goes on my list to visit again. Very nice atmosphere, and plenty of chocolate goodies to try out.

'Tis but a trifle...

In case you do not recognize this as such, it is a trifle. It's the first one I ever made, well, I had help, but they don't deserve any of the blame. It would have been okay if I had a) made the cake ahead of time, which I really knew I should, but I went to Violent Study Club on Monday night, and when I got home I watched TV until I got too tired to think about making a cake, and b) actually followed the instructions and used cake flour instead of assuming regular flour would do just as well.
Nevertheless, it was quite an adventure, and the end result was edible, if not as pretty as I would have liked. At least it didn't include meat, right?

It was a lemon-raspberry trifle with almonds, and the next time I make it, I know it will be beautiful. I remembered about five minutes before people arrived why it is that I don't make new recipes for company (they usually taste alright, but presentation is not my forte), but at that point it was too late to turn back, and besides, I couldn't make it without them anyway because this is not my trifle dish, it's Peter's. So I pulled my very flat cake out of the oven, and we did what we could (Jen and Kevin helped too). Actually, if you'd never seen a trifle before, I think this one looks pretty good. All it's really missing are the layers by which a trifle is defined, but other than that, I don't see any problems, do you? Oh yeah, the flat, dense cake. But really light fluffy cake is totally overrated, right? Okay, I can't justify it. For a trifle, this is really a disaster, but for a non-trifle, it's an absolute masterpiece. I think this could be big, I really do. The dessert of the summer of 2006: The Layerless Trifle. Quick, all of you serve one at your next dinner party, and we can make this happen. Are you with me?

Do you think I have a shot?

Open casting for Lyra
New Line Cinema has announced a UK-wide casting call to find a young actress to play the lead role, Lyra Belacqua, in its forthcoming feature The Golden Compass.

Casting directors Fiona Weir and Lucy Bevan will hold open casting calls in Cambridge, Kendal, Oxford, and Exeter during the first two weeks in April.

They are looking for 'a talented young actress who embodies Lyra's loyalty, bravery and mischievous nature.'

Applicants don't have to have previous acting experience, must be UK residents between 9-13 years old, and accompanied by a parent or guardian.

Girls should come without costumes or makeup, dress warmly, and be prepared to wait.

The casting calls will have open queues from 10am-2pm and will end at 5pm.

The exact locations are Cambridge's Corn Exchange (April 4), Kendal's Castle Green Hotel (April 6), Oxford's Examination Schools (April 11), and Exeter's Great Hall at the University of Exeter (April 13.)

Theatre Review: Threepenny Opera

*THIS POST CONTAINS SPOILERS*
I read The Threepenny Opera in school years ago, and have never seen a production on stage, so I'm by no means an expert critic for this play. Also, while I have an academic respect for Bertolt Brecht, I am not a big fan, and this production is a new, very modern (I don't like modern!), adaptation and translation by Wallace Shawn (who I love, generally), so I was prepared going into this show for it not to be a perfect fit for me.
I attended the invited dress rehearsal, and I heard in the lobby that they'd only gotten all of the way through the show once, that afternoon. I was expecting some badness, but actually, it went pretty well. The show is too long, which I'm sure will improve in the next week or so. I wish they would shorten it by cutting the beginning, but I'm sure they won't. When you enter, the stage is bare save for two rolling costume racks, and there are stage lights on the stage. Then the ensemble enters, and puts on costume pieces and use eyeliner to put a vertical line over each other's eye (just one eye, but not all the same one), and then they stare at us for a bit. All very Brechtian, and also very boring to watch. I never did figure out the significance of the eye-strip, but it must have been something, because we had to watch them all rub them off at the end of the play too. The movement (especially actors entering and exiting) was all very exaggerated too which I'm sure was another Brechtian device, and one that annoyed me, it took too long.
Costumes: Issac Mizrahi. I don't like him in general, and in this play, I don't like him at all. Everyone looked like they were in a Goth/punk sex club (not that I would know from experience...) which I shouldn't blame entirely on him because maybe that's the direction he was given, but I don't like him, so I will blame it all on him.
Set: Derek McLane. I actually liked the set a lot. They had huge neon lights that came down to announce the setting for every scene. It was fitting, and looked good.
Okay, skip to the important part, the actors. I love Alan Cumming, we all know this. He was at times creepy, and at times charming, he was always committed to his character and what was going on, and I would NEVER have cast him in this part (McHeath). I thought it was a very bad choice all around. McHeath should be very manly and devilishly handsome, and Alan isn't either. Please don't tell Alan I said that.

Jim Dale (Mr. Peachum), on the other hand, was everything he should be and more. I was excited to see him because I've never seen him perform live before, but I told myself not to get too excited because it was a weird play, and he's not as young as he used to be, but I needn't have worried for a moment. He was perfect, he was funny, he sounded great, and his dancing; absolutely delightful. This show is worth seeing for him alone. In fact, I wish I could see it again, just for him. I LOVE JIM DALE! I was also exited to see Christopher Innvar (Tiger Brown) live for the first time, but while he was enjoyable, I wished his part was a little meatier, and I didn't get to hear him sing enough.
There were two performers I knew nothing about going in, and who were, I thought delightfully good. Nellie McKaye played Polly. In many ways, I'd say this is the hardest part. She's the naive ingenue, but she's not completely innocent (she knowingly marries a murderer and thief for one thing). Also, everyone else's language in this adaptation is completely modern, but hers remains very stylized and somewhat stilted, and I thought Nellie did a great job with it. I felt like she played two different levels simultaneously most of the time, remaining true to her character, but also being very funny and sardonic in a way. I also really enjoyed her voice. The girl sitting behind me completely disagreed with me on every point, so you'll have to decide for yourself. The second unexpected treat was Brain Charles Rooney (Lucy Brown). I'd heard they were going to make Lucy (Polly's rival for McHeath's affection) a guy in drag, and I wasn't that excited about it, but Rooney was so great, I couldn't begrudge the fact that he was a guy in a (very short) dress. His singing voice was so feminine, I thought one of the ensemble girls must be singing for him backstage (his speaking voice was decidedly masculine throughout), but not so. Not only was his voice beautiful, but his acting was wonderful too; he was completely committed to his character, a young girl in love. I felt real empathy for him/her. One of my favorite scenes was called "The Jealousy Duet" between Polly and Lucy. They were both really great in it. My other favorite scene was Jim Dale's solo in the second act, I can't remember the name of it, but you'll know it when you see it. Priceless.
Overall, very interesting show, if not my favorite. I'm glad I saw it, and would even see it again (but hopefully it'd be at least 30 minutes shorter next time). My last criticism is the poster. Hate it! I rarely like posters with photographs of the stars anyway, but this photo, puh-lease. Alan looks like a gay magician! I cannot stand it, and there are so many things they could have done with a Threepenny poster, it's really a shame they couldn't use a drop of creativity. Oh well, Roundabout never listened to me when I worked for them, they're certainly not going to start now that I don't and still don't give them any money for seeing their shows.

Jim Dale, Alan Cumming, Scott Elliot (director)

*A special thanks to Krystin for making it possible to see this unforgettable show!

I had a dream...

So I know that no one actually wants to hear about someone else's dream, but if there ever was a proper forum for such a story, a blog is it. If you don't want to hear, stop reading.
Some people say they don't remember their dreams. I almost always do. 75% of my dreams can be put into one of two categories: anxiety dreams (usually take the form of theatre dreams, but there are some variations) and life & death or saving the world dreams (I have some sort of hero complex). The other 25% is everything else.
Last night I dreamed that I went on a vacation to Oregon to visit the country's oldest children's library (it was no longer circulating). I won't bore you with the details, but it was a lengthy, detailed dream wherein I looked at everything in the library/museum, and I had words with the curator who didn't want to take the time to answer my questions about preservation.
This is my first "library" dream, and I don't know whether to take it as a confirmation of my chosen profession, or an indication of an unhealthy obsession. I also don't know where the Oregon part came from. It doesn't make sense, I've never been there before, or ever thought to visit.

New Words for 2006

My Dad sent this to me. I don't know where he got it, or I would give credit, but I found it enjoyable, and quite possibly useful:

Essential vocabulary additions for the workplace (and elsewhere)!!!


1. BLAMESTORMING : Sitting around in a group, discussing why a deadline was missed or a project failed, and who was responsible.

5. CUBE FARM : An office filled with cubicles

6. PRAIRIE DOGGING : When someone yells or drops something loudly in a cube farm, and people's heads pop up over the walls to see what's going on.

7. MOUSE POTATO : The on-line, wired generation's answer to the couch potato.

8. SITCOMs : Single Income, Two Children, Oppressive Mortgage. What Yuppies get into when they have children and one of them stops working to stay home with the kids.

9. STRESS PUPPY : A person who seems to thrive on being stressed out and whiny.

10. SWIPEOUT : An ATM or credit card that has been rendered useless because magnetic strip is worn away from extensive use.

11. XEROX SUBSIDY : Euphemism for swiping free photocopies from one's workplace.

12. IRRITAINMENT : Entertainment and media spectacles that are Annoying but you find yourself unable to stop watching them. The J-Lo and Ben wedding (or not) was a prime example - Michael Jackson, another...

13. PERCUSSIVE MAINTENANCE : The fine art of pounding on an electronic device to get it to work again.

14. ADMINISPHERE : The rarefied organizational layers beginning just above the rank and file. Decisions that fall from the adminisphere are often profoundly inappropriate or irrelevant to the problems they were designed to solve.

15. 404 : Someone w ho's clueless. From the World Wide Web error Message "404 Not Found," meaning that the requested site could not be located.

16. GENERICA : Features of the American landscape that are exactly the same no matter where one is, such as fast food joints, strip malls, and subdivisions.

17. OHNOSECOND : That minuscule fraction of time in which you realize that you've just made a BIG mistake. (Like after hitting send on an email by mistake)

18. WOOFS : Well-Off Older Folks.

NYPL made me do it

I've just bought a hardback copy of the third book in a trilogy of which I do not own the first two books. This is not a wise purchase, but I was forced into it, against my will. I happily read the first two books from the library, and was looking forward to doing the same for the last book, but NYPL has let me down most egregiously. The third book came out on December 19th. When the second book came out, NYPL listed it on their online catalog a week before it was released, and had it circulating by a few weeks afterwards. I know, I'm spoiled. But now, with this third book, it's been three months, and it's not even listed! I waited as long as I could force myself to wait, checking the catalog daily, and then I was driven to this. I can't imagine that they're not going to get it eventually (how could they carry the first two and not the third?), but this girl simply could not wait. Maybe after I finish reading it, I'll donate my copy to the library as an act of charity and love to my fellow book-lovers.

Mini book review: Vanity and Vexation

This book is a modern Pride and Prejudice retelling, which I would normally be quite wary of (we already have Bridget Jones, why do we need another?), but this novel was recommended to me, so I figured I'd give it a try. The roles are reversed ("Elizabeth" is a guy, "Darcy" is a girl), and this switch kept me surprisingly entertained the entire time. It's a very quick read, and although it doesn't have all the details that a true Austenian would desire (then again, that might get tedious, Fenton's probably smart to avoid it), it's a pleasure. My only complaint is the shockingly small amount we get of the Mr. Collins character (or should I say, Ms. Collins). He/she is one of my favorite P&P characters, and I thought Fenton could have done more with that. But overall, I recommend it, especially as an antidote to dry, boring graduate school reading (am I the only one in this situation right now?).

Monday night television

Prison Break came back on last night after quite a hiatus, and I was very excited. But after watching for a bit, I started to wonder if I could handle it. In the fall, I had complete faith in Michael being smarter than everyone else at the jail and his intricate plan, but now that everything's gone wrong, I'm very stressed out during viewing. I briefly contemplated giving up the show, but Michael needs me. I'll just have to be strong, for his sake. Especially since doctor girl won't just admit she's in love with him, which we all know she is because, who could not be? On a side note, there were two little details (one in the recap & one in the episode) that I'm quite sure they added, hoping that we wouldn't remember. In the recap they showed "T-bag" waving a knife around, which I'm pretty sure didn't actually happen in the last episode. They also said during the episode that the vice president's brother isn't really dead, and that's the first time I've heard about that. I think...
Next I had to watch Julia Louis Dreyfuss' new show (it started last week, but I missed it). I loved her last show, Watching Ellie, so much so that I wrote a letter to the network. Alas, my love was not enough to keep it on the air. But I had high hopes for The New Adventures of Old Christine. I'll give it another week before casting judgment, but I was not impressed last night. Very disappointing. It was just so...sitcom-y. I don't like that.
The last show I watched was a completely unexpected delight. I was randomly flipping through the channels before turning the TV off, when I stopped on, what I thought was Entertainment Tonight, or Access Hollywood, or something like that. It turns out it was actually a public access show called The Resident. This girl was showing her favorite clips from her DVR and making comments about them. It was highly entertaining to me. I went to her website to find out more. It turns out her show airs every Monday night, and it's usually an interview program. I found her very enjoyable, and if I remember, I'm going to watch her again next week.

Old friends and people I've seen before

I spent the weekend unexpectedly thrust down memory lane. It all started with a phone call on Monday night from a dear friend, saying she'd be in town for one day on business. Thursday night, I met her at her hotel (The Palace-ever heard if it? I hadn't but the name is no exaggeration. I wasn't even sure they'd let me in, slob that I am), and we went out to dinner. As we sat across from each other over dinner, I was struck by how different our lives had become. We met in an acting class in college, and at that time our similarities far outweighed our differences. But at this point in our lives, she's had a very successful career, bought a house (on her own), got married, and will soon enter the realm of motherhood while I, well we all know what I've accomplished (or rather, not). But I just adore her, and for some reason she likes me too, and we had a great time until far too late into the night.
Friday I talked to another college friend on the phone, who told me he wished we were back in school. I agreed that we'd had some good times, but come on, there was plenty to dislike as well.
Saturday I went to a stake church activity (I know you're shocked, but I have a new goal to go to every church activity that I have no good reason to miss. Luckily, I decided that finishing a school project was a very good reason to miss the pornography fireside last night), and I ran into a girl I hadn't seen since my sophomore year of college. She took one look at me and said, "Why Catherine, you're all grown up!" I had thought I was all grown up in college, and I'm fairly sure that I at least look the same, but nevertheless, I submitted to a hug, and again found myself talking about old times and people I'd forgotten I'd even known.
Later in the same evening, I was introduced to a girl who looked very familiar, and then she said the dreaded, "Are you a Sorensen?" This has happened to me countless times. I guess because my family moved around a fair bit, and we all look so much alike, I have Mormons approach me all the time who, if they don't remember me specifically, they do recognize me as a Sorensen, and have clear memories of us as a unit. Usually I have no idea who they are, and so just try to play along. Luckily, I was able to dredge up a family name for this girl as well, but I truly could not remember her specifically. She mentioned two sisters who I did remember, but I really had no idea if I was meant to really know this girl, so I acted probably way too friendly to try to cover the fact that I had drawn a blank. Doubt if she bought it.
Anyway, I hope that I'm done with running into my past for a little while at least. It's exhausting.

Blogging about blogs

A year ago, I only had a vague idea of what a blog was. Shocking, I know, but true. I have a couple of cousins that write on Mormon group blogs, but it was really too much for me to try to keep up with that. I found out that a couple of my friends had blogs too, and I thought it was so strange; what could you possibly think of to write on a blog, and who would read it?
Then I changed jobs, and I found myself, almost on a daily basis, waiting anywhere from 10 to 30 minutes several times a day for my boss to get off the phone, or to stop talking to someone because I needed something from him before I could continue my project. That's when the wonderful world of blogs came to life for me. I started by just reading the blogs that my friends and family wrote, and then I found blogs that people I'd known in college were writing, and I read their friends' blogs, etc. It was fun to see what people were up to that I didn't keep in regular contact with. And now, here I am, reading a fistful of blogs on a daily basis, and getting emotionally involved in people's lives who I have never met. I recently had a conversation with one of my sisters all about a girl (who neither of us actually know) and how surprised we were at her recently announced pregnancy, and the affects that might be having on her fertility challenged sister (whose blog I also read). We both thought it was weird that we were so invested, and that we were even having the conversation, and yet, these sisters update their blogs almost daily, and I just cannot stop reading them! And of course, as you might have noticed, I've picked up the blogging habit myself. I figure it's a good way for people to get as little or as much of me as they want. Not to mention it gives me the chance to go on and on about everything...
Here are a few blogs I like to look at on a regular basis:

http://gofugyourself.typepad.com/

This blog makes fun of celebrities wearing bad clothes, which is always fun. Plus, it usually gets updated several times every afternoon.

http://trent.blogspot.com/

This is another entertainment blog. It has far too much coverage of Britney Spears life, but it's a fun read. Gets updated once a day (including weekends!).

http://postsecret.blogspot.com/

You've probably heard about this blog. It's very interesting, but it can sometimes be a little graphic. Updates once a week.

http://www.waiterrant.net/

Having spent years in "customer service" positions, I particularly enjoy this waiter's blog. He usually updates several times a week.

http://newyorkhack.blogspot.com/

My friend Clara turned me on to this blog. It's written by a NYC taxi driver. She seems to update once or twice a week.

http://cuteoverload.com/

I'm ashamed to admit that I regularly look at this blog, but what can I say? They update daily, and sometimes a girl just wants to see a really cute picture.

Books you have to read before you die

The Museum, Libraries, and Archives Council recently released a list of books you have to read before you die. Take note this is a British organization; I'm quite sure the list would read differently if compiled by the ALA. As of this list, I only have six more books to read before I can safely move on to the next life. How did you do?

To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee
The Bible
The Lord of the Rings Trilogy by JRR Tolkien
1984 by George Orwell
A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens
Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte
Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen
All Quiet on the Western Front by E M Remarque
His Dark Materials Trilogy by Phillip Pullman
Birdsong by Sebastian Faulks
The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck
The Lord of the Flies by William Golding
The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time by Mark Haddon
Tess of the D'urbevilles by Thomas Hardy
Winnie the Pooh by AA Milne
Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte
The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Graham
Gone With the Wind by Margaret Mitchell
Great Expectations by Charles Dickens
The Time Traveller's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger
The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold
The Prophet by Khalil Gibran
David Copperfield by Charles Dickens
The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho
The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov
Life of Pi by Yann Martel
Middlemarch by George Eliot
The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver
A Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess
A Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich by Alexander Solzenhitsyn

They think I can do what?

I've been in the new ward for a couple of months, and I knew that sooner or later a calling would be coming my way. As you know, I had high hopes of getting to work in the Primary (the children's organization) since my favorite calling to date was the year I was a Sunbeam teacher before moving to Manhattan. I had even decided that I was going to talk to the Primary president, and volunteer to serve as a substitute, hoping that would lead to a permanent calling. As it turns out, every week I chickened out of talking to her. What happened instead was that I played the piano one day in RS because the regular pianist wasn't there (you know, one of the five hymns I can play without practicing), and the next week the RS President found me after Sacrament Meeting and asked if I would go play in the Primary that day. I told her I would be happy to if they couldn't find anyone better, because I don't really play that well, but apparently I was already their last resort, so to Primary I went. It was fine; I did mostly one-handed playing, but the kids were very forgiving. At the end of church, the Primary president thanked me for helping out, and asked me my name. I told her, and I said I was always happy to help out " as a teacher, or anything you need." I hoped that my dismal playing would be enough for her to realize that I'm really not good enough to play the piano, but by offering to help out, she might think if me for something else. Anything else. I would have been thrilled to be a Primary teacher, chorister, in the presidency, anything. Just not playing.
Perhaps it's karma for wanting to choose my own calling. I was called yesterday to be the Primary pianist. I couldn't say no, but sheesh, I hope they aren't sorry. People who don't play often think that if you play the piano, that means you can play anything, but that is so far from true. I went through the songbook yesterday to make a list of the songs I needed to learn to play right away, but I stopped after I realized I was writing down about every third song in the book! I'm sure this calling will be a good growing experience for me, but I hope they don't end up regretting it. And playing during Sacrament meeting (Mother's day is only two months away!), well, I'll be surprised if I don't have a stroke. Wish me luck.

something else that makes me smile

I've seen this Pepsi commercial starring Jimmy Fallon and Parker Posey on television twice, and I decided to try to find it on the internet to watch again. Click on the picture to watch it for yourself. Love the dancing, not so sure about the clothes.

Warm winds

Usually the weather doesn't affect me too much one way or the other, but today it is so beautiful, I just have to feel happy about it! It's 60-something degrees outside, and I just spent my lunch hour outside with no coat (for the first time in months) and it was glorious and wild. It's really windy, but oddly enough, that same wind that was making me cry last week, today is making me smile like "a glee little school girl." (That's what a stranger once called me, much to my horror, when I was 18) I know it can't last, it's only March 10th after all, but I intend to enjoy it to the fullest for now. I may spend the entirety of the weekend out-of-doors. Wishing you a similarly happy one...

So you wanna be a Sorensen?

In response to Christopher's post on what is or isn't a deal breaker for him in a relationship, I've compiled a few requirements for any potential spouse of a Sorensen. This list is in no way definitive, please feel free to add-on. I especially invite comments from Travis and Sylvester on skills they think might be needed when joining the Sorensen family.

• Must have a healthy tolerance for chaos (with 12+ people every activity is chaotic)
• Should be willing to carry on a conversation primarily in movie quotes
• Must be willing to perform in Sorensen family musical numbers
• Should enjoy a good game of "This is me, being you, being me" and other made up games of the like
• Must accept reading at the table during breakfast as acceptable behavior
• Must be able to speak your mind and willing to agree to disagree (we are all very opinionated, and seldom do we all agree on anything)
• Cannot expect adult behavior from Sorensens when 3 or more are together

NY adventure

I wouldn't be able to write this post if my mother read my blog, but she doesn't, so I'll tell you what I saw last night. I decided to go to the laundromat, and as usual, left the house at the last possible moment (9:55 pm) to make it before the cut-off (their official line is that they don't let anyone start doing laundry after 10pm. I don't really believe them, but I don't want to be they one they prove it on). There were a lot of people in the hallway, but that's not too unusual in my building. The first thing that tipped me off to something weird happening was when someone lifted my laundry cart down the front steps for me. I looked up to say thank you, and it was a police officer. I wondered what he was doing there (sometimes there are policeman on my block, but it's not an everyday occurrence), and quickly saw that he had a lot of friends with him. I then saw the police tape that had my building and the rest of the block down to Riverside blocked off. The policeman told me I needed to go across the street to walk up to Broadway, and held the tape up for me to duck under, which I quickly did. I then hurried to the laundromat thinking that I hoped they would be done with their drug raid or whatever it was before I got back; having to duck under tape to get to one's building is most inconvenient.
Upon my return at 11:30 things had calmed down a bit. There were only four policeman left, and the taped off portion had decreased to just my building. I walked around to where I could duck back under the tape, hoping the policemen would remember that I lived there, and I wouldn't have to talk to anyone. They didn't pay much attention to me, and as I passed, I saw what they were standing around. There was a corpse about three feet from my front steps. That gave me a moment's pause, not having encountered too many dead bodies in my somewhat sheltered lifetime, but I didn't want to risk having to speak to policemen, so I continued into my building. I scanned through the news programs to see if there was anything about the dead guy on my street, but it was all sports coverage by that time. So, I'll probably never know about what happened in front of my building last night. The scariest thing about the whole experience was actually that I was far more annoyed by the inconvenience to my trip to the laundromat than frightened by the possible/probable violence in my neighborhood. Even with my jaded attitude, that's the second scariest thing that's happened where I live. If you haven't heard about the scariest night I've spent in a NY apartment, let me know, and I'll tell you about it sometime.

A Wild and Crazy Gal

Erin's gone for two weeks, which means I'm left all alone to run wild in the swinging bachelorette pad. Erin's the best roommate ever, but I enjoy having the place to my self every now and then. It's especially good for playing my music too loud and having apartment wide dance parties in states of semi-dress (normally I have to keep that kind of behavior confined to my room). Last time she was gone I watched The Godfather trilogy (the second one was good, but overall, I don't understand the hype). I don't have any big movie plans yet, but maybe this time I'll do the Alien trilogy. Is that too scary to watch when you're all alone in the house? What am I saying, scary movies are never scary enough; I'll be fine. Then again, I watched 28 Days Later while Erin was gone, and I couldn't sleep for fear that there would be an epidemic in Manhattan and we would be quarantined and I would die in Ha-Hi (Hamilton Heights). But then I decided that I would just swim over to NJ and hitch-hike to Rochester, which sounds like a pretty good contingency plan for any major emergency, so I got things covered.
Anyhoo, if any of my friends are worried about my sanity while I'm left to my own devices, please do come and visit for a while. Just be sure to call first, in case there's a dance party going on.

Oscar dates

Here are a few people I would have go to the Oscars with (you know, if they had asked me):

Jake Gyllenhaal
George Clooney
Peter Sarsgaard
Nick Park
Ang Lee
David Straithairn
Phillip Seymour Hoffman (fellow Rochesterian)
Clive Owen (I didn't see him there, but maybe he'll go next year, and maybe he'll need a date)

Here are a few people I would never want to date, but maybe if they took me to the Oscars...

Jack Nicholson
Keanu Reeves
Ryan Phillippe
William Hurt

Crying away my winter blues

I like winter and I'm not going to complain about how cold it is. Note to everyone in NY: In the winter it's supposed to be cold. Some people seem to have forgotten this little correlation between seasons and temperature which they should have mastered in preschool. However, I will mention this little complaint. Much to my embarrassment, I arrive most places in tears these days. Not because I'm upset, but just because the cold wind makes my eyes water. My eyes are on the sensitive side anyway because I wear contacts, but in the winter, the first cold wind starts the tears, and then they just keep coming until I get indoors. I know people are just being nice when they ask if I'm okay, but I'm so tired of explaining it. I can't be the only one this happens to, can I? I'm getting to the point where I'm looking forward to spring just so I can stop crying all the time.

Good news/bad news

The good news is that when I went to pick up the Doubt tickets at the box office last night, we got upgraded from row Q to row J (the trick is to pick up your tickets early-7:30's great-and always smile at the person working the box office-they appreciate it). The bad news is Eileen Atkins is a great actress, but not great enough to make up for Jena Malone and Ron Eldard being completely out of their element.

Lunch hour at B&N

I went over to B&N on my lunch hour to get a birthday card for my father really quickly before I got lunch. So, 50 minutes later, I had to rush into Julliard's Java City and grab a salad on my way back to work. Things weren't helped by the fact that I was talking to my mom for half that time, and I forgot my notebook that I usually have with me, so I was reduced to writing book titles onto little receipts I found in my wallet, but still, I need to just come to grips with the fact that I have no will power, and stop putting myself into temptation's path.

Mismatch

A couple of years ago I bought a new pair of black cable-knit gloves. They were a little more expensive than I should have bought, but they were very soft, and they were long which I love. The next week, I dropped one onto the subway tracks. I bought a much cheaper replacement pair of black gloves - not as soft, and not as long, but I did like the colored thread around the wrist. Those lasted three weeks before I dropped one who knows where. The happy part of this story is that I had dropped the right glove of the first pair, and the left glove of the second pair. I wore the mismatched pair, for the time being, thinking I would replace the gloves at the end of the season when everything was on sale.
Now it's two winters later and I'm still wearing them. Last year I decided to wear them until I, inevitably (I thought), lost one of them, and then I would buy a real pair. Now I think I will never lose them. They are destined to stay with me forever precisely because I would actually like to lose them. It's not such a big deal. Do you know, in two years (half way through my third winter wearing them) not a single person has noticed that my gloves don't match? I do sometimes worry that some stranger on the subway has noticed, and is silently judging me for my mismatched gloves. I know I would.