Cue-to-cue

Yesterday's cue-to-cue went well. Going to Santa Monica on the first hot and sunny day of spring was an interesting test of my patience, though. I was in a fine mood yesterday, and I really have to work on going to City Garage in a fine mood more often, because it was fun, joyful, even (once we got there). I have to work on my moods, I think. Many, many people thought that SM would be the ideal destination, and we knew when we hit the 10 West and there was traffic way the hell down at Bundy that we were in trouble (I carpooled with my friend Bo and he also was in a good mood. We listened to "Translator" and he kept me from panicking, as I usually do, when I'm driving to Santa Monica and there's more traffic than I would've hoped for. I hate being late, and I hate bringing him late).

It didn't help that there was also a farmers' market going on. We did find parking in a new lot (for me); usually when I go to SM it's after 6 (so no meters) or on a Sunday (top secret parking spot I would never tell to just anybody, let alone the hundreds of people reading this. What? Too ambitious? The tens of people reading this?), and for the whole day it only cost us $7.

Wait, how did a post that was supposed to be about the cue-to-cue become a post about parking in Santa Monica? Oh, yes, I see what I did there.

Anyway, I still don't know what to expect from this show when I see the first real run through with tech on Tuesday, I can only say that the scenes I actually did see looked amazing. Lots of political stuff, lots of interesting language, lots to think about. Now, as long as I wrote down the lighting and audio cues in the right spots, everything should be just dandy.

Patrick and I have both been up since 8:30, but our days have been totally different. He's been mowing the lawn and working in the yard, and I've been lying in bed listening to "In Rainbows" with Puma. Puma's favorites are "15 Step" and "House of Cards," my votes go to "Bodysnatchers" and "Jigsaw Falling Into Place."

To even things out, I think I'm going to go clean the bathroom (it's 85 degrees right now; Patrick might appreciate a clean bathroom to shower in once he's done slaving away outside). And maybe do some dishes. And laundry. Ah, housework.

...

Last week I finally cleaned out the closet in my office, and the surface of my desk (I still need to file and sort of the stuff to keep and the stuff to shred), and while I was working I found two items that were totally interesting to me. The first thing was a letter Patrick wrote to me in 1996. He had just moved back home to Venice from a house he'd been renting in Culver City. We were dating, and pretty serious, and he wanted to save the money he was spending in rent for us to buy a house. The letter isn't over romantic but it's very sweet, still. I'm glad I found it. And the "P.S." is pretty funny. His house in Venice - he had a separate house on his mom and dad's lot - was right up against an alley, and all night long there would be crazy activity - guys with metal shopping carts full of bottles and cans, police cars. It wasn't nearly as quiet as it had been in Culver City.











The other item I found was in my old "Art Bin" from when I took a calligraphy class at SMC. It was a cool class, and I liked it a lot. I worked at Crown (this was around 1991, I guess), and I needed a box cutter for something... so apparently I stole Rachel's. We were pretty protective of our box cutters, which the publishers would send us as advertisements for their books (the blue one, which I think you can see in the photo, was for "The Babysitter's Club." Interesting tie-in, I think. Sharp cutting instrument, story about teenage babysitters...? Anyway, sorry, Rachel, if you've been looking for it all this time. And yes, I realize that this a pretty shitty photo.

And I have no idea why I have so many compasses. I think there are three.



Finally, here's a photo I took after I got ready for the LA Weekly awards and before I put my hair up in a ponytail. The ponytail was a mistake, but I was nervous.

I really must clean that damn mirror.