I've been off the blogging grid lately, large in part because I've had a bit of a full schedule. Creative projects come and go, like waves, and I try to surf them as gracefully as possible. Usually I end up flying high some moments and crashing the next, with any and all emotions washing over and through me during the in-between times. Balance. What is that idea, anyway?

I had the pleasure of teaching a documentary theatre workshop at the Harvard Graduate School of Education in February, which I enjoyed immensely. My theatre company partner and I got to guest lecture at Emerson College about our documentary play Big Work, which was a real treat. We toured our play, Big Work, to Portsmouth, NH and it was absolutely magical to get to reunite with our cast and reflect on how the play has changed for us and changed the way we relate to work six months after our most recent performance, and a year since the original debut. To top it off, we went to a recording studio in Boston with our cast to record a radio play version of Big Work, which will be available to purchase later this spring. It was so exciting to document the play in a more permanent way and think of getting to share it with anyone who wants to listen!

I also acted in a staged reading of the Vagina Monologues for the first time, and met an incredible group of women with whom I had a special theatrical experience with. And can I say how amazing it was to go from fearing saying the word "pussy" in front of people to relishing performing the Angry Vagina monologue in front of a packed house? 

After these experiences, I was ready to downshift and break for a bit. In addition, I was taken by surprise (as we always seem to be) by the death of someone in my life whom I loved very much, and have taken even more of a step back from writing for the moment to be able to be with family and friends that have helped me to mourn and celebrate his life simultaneously. I've also taken some time to be alone lately, and this quiet time has given me the chance to really feel and reflect on my life and what it is that I do and why I do it. 

One of the realizations I have had recently is about my style as a blogger. Many bloggers are able to keep churning out new material week after week, sticking to a regular schedule, and establishing themselves as reliable sources for consistent, timely posts. I love writing, especially about a life in the theatre, but I don't know if I'm one of those bloggers. Here are the facts. 

I'm inconsistent about when and what I am posting. 

I can go a LONG time without posting. I can also post several blogs in a short period of time.

I often post about creativity, but have started to talk a bit about my health and the food I choose to eat, too. Am I breaking the rules? Do these topics go together in one blog?

I have no idea how many people even read this blog. The age old question, "Is there any point to this?"

I have no way of knowing how many folks discover my blog only to get turned off when they see the wild variance in how often I post and the topics I write about. 

This is not much of a plug for my blog, isn't it? It's funny how "wrong" it feels to type these things in this space. After all, this is a blog about creativity, and I'm admitting that I am not always motivated to be creative or sometimes want to write about things other than creativity, like student debt or eating gluten-free. Gasp! What will happen now? Will my blog self-destruct? Will I be kicked off the internet? Will the Gods strike me down with thunder, lightning, and shame showers?

[Take a moment.] 

No Lear-like storm. I have written these things and my blog still exists. So do I. So, what's the big deal with confessing that I'm consistently inconsistent? That my creativity has a hard time staying inside the box, sticking to the rules? Why have I been terrified to admit these things?

If I am honest, my sporadic or varied writing is not a matter of feeling blocked as an artist, feeling unworthy, or unoriginal, or afraid. It's not about some deep seated psychological fear I have--at least, I don't think so. 

It's much simpler: sometimes I get tired and I need to take a break. Sometimes I want to write about something other than theatre. Or sometimes I get interested in something else altogether, like reading a really good novel or binging on the Great British Baking Show while munching on some homemade cake. That's it. 

I'm an artist, but I'm also a human being with other likes, interests, curiosities, and passions. I think there's often a subtle but harmful message that gets passed around like a virus in the artistic community: that if you spend any time doing anything other than creating, making, musing, or imagining, that you have failed. You aren't as dedicated as the others who can manage eating, breathing, sleeping, and living ART. How dare you turn your focus to anything else?

There's so much pressure to strive, to build you resume, to gain followers, likes, shares, web traffic, and lately I'm feeling like I don't want to keep up with this impossible race. I love writing and sharing here in this little corner of the internet, but my desire to write comes in waves. Sometimes I want to write, write, write, and other times? I want to rest. I've fought it for so long and there is something to be said about speaking a truth out loud and letting it just be, to not have to try to change it or deny it or make it go away. There's also something to be said about creating for yourself, as a means to explore your own world and experiences, and not to meet the expectations of anyone or anything outside yourself. 

I tell you these things here not because I think they are a revelation or that they are particularly profound or original or even riveting as a blog post, much less organized. I type them here for the reason that I share any kind of story: in hopes that in speaking (or typing, as it were) my truth that someone else who is feeling the same way might be able to say "Me too." After all, isn't that the power of art, and of stories? To share something that might build a bridge to someone else's experience, helping us all feel a bit more connected?

I'm off to a book, a bath, and whatever else this sunny Saturday might hold for me. Do what you want to do today, no matter what box it falls into. As one of my favorite makers Rob Bell says, "It all belongs."

 






















I'm auditioning tonite for a local staged reading. I have been on a much needed break since the end of October and it has felt incredible to take a time out and recharge. I had basically done one show after the next since January 2016. I was physically, mentally, and spiritually exhausted. I love acting and writing and making things, and because I loved them so much, I had to take a break from them. That's the cycle of creativity after all: fill your well, make something, share that something, go back into your creative cocoon and recharge. Repeat.

But I finally feel ready to peek out a little more and try a bit of performing again. I am not ready for another full production, but when I saw this staged reading with only a couple performances and just two or three rehearsals, I thought: perfect. It's not all or nothing, after all. Six week full production schedule or nothing at all? Sometimes, it's a creative compromise. I'm ready to dip my toes back in.

I often have to call myself out on this all or nothing attitude when I am working on an independent creative project. I have been working on a creative manifesto of sorts for over two years now, and can't quite see the finish line yet. Part of my issue is that I have wanted to be able to quit all the other distractions that are keeping me from writing all day, every day. Life just doesn't work that way for most of us. So my solution has been not to work on the book at all.  All or nothing.

This morning I woke up at 5:30 am, completely by accident. I decided to write 1000 words for my book. I couldn't spend the day at home writing, but I could at least set the timer for 30 minutes and do  a little. 

A little versus a lot. 

Something versus nothing.

Gosh, this is hard for me. But if it's the way to keep going forward, even one baby step at a time, then I have to be willing to be a creative toddler for a bit. Step, step, fall. Tantrum! Step, crawl, sit. Lay on the floor for a while. Sleep. Head up. Step. 

Steal some time for you today. Set a time for 30 minutes. If you don't have that much time, set it for 10 minutes. Don't look at your phone, don't get up for a snack. Just sit there and do your work.  See how it feels.  See what happens. 

Happy Tuesday, Everyone! And never underestimate the power of What About Bob? to remind you how important baby steps can be :)

In the past, I've had a bad habit where I worked straight through many lunches and dinners, and skipped breakfasts if I have had a full day of day jobbing, rehearsing, writing, or the like. And guess what? It's not fun. In fact, I end up feeling pretty awful. My focus is non-existent, I can't keep my mind off of the food I want and need to be eating to fuel me, and let's not even talk about how "hangry" I get. Don't think that's a real thing? Spend a day with me when I haven't had a regular lunch. The "hanger" is REAL.

We need to be healthy if we want to create. Here's a question for you. When is the last time you remember being really hungry and thought "You know what I really feel like doing right now? Performing! Writing a book! Knitting! Teaching a dance class!"

Never? Yeah, me either. 

Take if from the women of Hamilton and take a break. Even a twenty minute respite that involves some food will leave you feeling not only full, but focused, and less frazzled. And quick and easy doesn't need to mean that you are sacrificing health either. Here are two of my favorite recipes these days that have helped me feel human and nourished but not like I'm taking too much time away from my day job or creative projects. Forgive my lack of measurements in the salad recipe, I usually just toss this together with the amounts I feel I can eat when I make it. 

Wishing you a weekend full of love, imagination, and all the things you need to be a healthy YOU!

Tropical Green Smoothie

1/2 avocado
3/4 cup of frozen pineapple
a large handful of spinach (or kale)
1 small knob of ginger (about 1 inch) cut into small pieces
1 TBPS lemon juice
a spoonful coconut oil
one cup of coconut milk (or any kind of dairy you like!)
1 ice cube
Optional: 1 scoop of collagen/protein powder

Blend together on a high setting, and add more coconut water, ice, or milk as needed for your preferred consistency. The fast and easy breakfast of choice for me these days!

Greek Salad 

Romaine lettuce, chopped
Red onion, thinly sliced
Kalamata olives
Cucumbers, diced
Artichoke hearts, quartered
Protein of choice (shrimp, tofu, chicken, etc.)

Toss with the dressing of your choice and voila! Healthy and totable lunch (or dinner) to keep your "hanger" at bay. Personally, I love the paleo tzatziki sauce recipe here: http://stupideasypaleo.com/2013/06/15/paleo-tzatziki-sauce/

Elizabeth Gilbert, when asked how she managed to write her famous memoir Eat Pray Love as a best seller with millions of readers, responded by saying that it was impossible to write a book for millions of people--she confessed that as she wrote the book, she imagined herself writing to a small, specific group of dear friends in her own life. In a world where it often feels like we have to appeal to everyone, I like this small but radical idea. 

In that spirit, this post is not for the vast void of the interwebs. Or rather, it's not written with that audience in mind. As I type here from my small apartment, wearing my pajamas, with my cat sitting on my feet, my twinkle lights illuminated,  I can see the faces of my closest circle of friends, my chosen family of creative world changers----the theatre artists, the teachers, the activists, the hummingbirds, the hard working souls who dare to imagine how the world could be. I pray you know who you are and how much I admire your talents, your persistence, your curiosity, the joy you take in the work. I hope you know how radically you have changed my life for good.

This post is for you. If you are like me, today was rough. Like me, you may have cried, swore, been snarky on social media, in real life, and wished to crawl into a hole, never to emerge again. Give up. Call it a wash, a loss, a situation that is too ugly and frustrating and full of things rank and gross in nature. 

I see you and I see your pain. If I were with each one of you right now, I would cry with you. Yell at the tops of our lungs. Commiserate in this seeming nightmare that we are in right now.  I would admit to you that I am terrified, in a completely unique way. I feel that I have lost all control. That I have no clue what comes next and if what we do from now on will make a difference.  I don't know that I can imagine what victory looks like, or rather how that victory will be possible.

I once had a friend spend some time with me before I went onstage for a performance. When I got cold feet and began to panic, she lovingly but firmly put her hands on my shoulders and looked me right into the eyes. "You can do this."

You know what else you can do?
-Feel scared about how you will keep your health insurance
-Feel overwhelmed by the idea that as an artist, you are supposed to know the way forward
-Feel angry that once again, it looks as if the arts are fighting to justify themselves
-Feel any feeling that you want, however you want, wherever you want, whenever you want

You can do this. WE can do this. Do what? I'm not sure yet. How? I don't know. Will it be hellish along the way? Yeah, parts of it, probably. But we can and will endure and find the hows and whys and whens and wheres along the way. 

I haven't gone to many events, protests, or rallies since the election because I've been too overwhelmed riding the waves of my own grief. I've gone from sobbing to shouting to silence in sixty seconds. I still don't feel like I have much power or answers. But I am here and you are here and I see you. I am with you, however far apart we are. And I would wrap my arms around you in the biggest hug if we were together and take you by the shoulders and tell you "You can do this."

I pray that this message of solidarity (if not a solution) reaches you wherever you find yourself tonite--both literally and metaphorically.  You don't have to feel  ok, you don't need to feel like a warrior. But you do need to know you are not alone. And that it's ok to take the time to ride your own waves of grief. We can take turns and cover each other--while one of us is paralyzed with sadness, another can stand up on the front lines. When one of us has the strength to be relentless in the fight for justice, another is gifted the chance to take care of themselves if they feel too shaken with grief to move forward.

So, my Dear Friends. Whether we march tomorrow in the streets of Boston, Washington, Los Angeles, Atlanta, or in our theatres, studios, concert halls, or galleries, we must MOVE. One step. Shaky and sad, mad as hell, not even sure where we are going. 

Step.

Step.

Step.

As for tonite, this moment? Drink a glass of water. Allow your shoulders to relax. Take five deep breaths. Give someone a hug. Turn off the news, notifications, and try to get a good night's sleep. This is like a marathon--you don't sprint the whole thing. We need to pace ourselves to ensure that we make it the long haul. 

All the love and strength to you tonite and going forward. 

Someone in the recent past asked me what my favorite part of myself is. I didn't have to think about it, and answered instinctively: my imagination. A lover of Anne of Green Gables and Harry Potter, I was the six year old kid that was sent to my room (which in 1989 did certainly NOT have a television in it) and amused myself for hours imagining that I was watching my favorite shows on the side of my dresser. Yes, my imagination is so powerful and I am proud to have it.

As lovely as it is to imagine away feeling sick, scared, or uncomfortable, being endowed with a big imagination means that you have the ability to flip the coin and imagine things that aren't so fun. Things that are scary, intimidating, and downright horrifying. Planes crashing, your subway car exploding, making one last mistake at your job and being fired and thrown out of the building. I am the Houdini of imagining myself shunned by friends, homeless, and in every kind of medical distress known to humankind. It's not fun, and as much as I can joke about this dark side of my imagination, it has caused me so much pain and suffering. It has caused me anxiety beyond what I will often admit or talk about.

When I found this quote, (above) I thought "YES. That's it." Can you relate to this? Do you both love and hate your vivid imagination? I often think I would love to  give up just a little of my "good" imagination in order to reduce my "bad" imagination.

But we already know it doesn't work like that. And I know that we all know that what comes at this point in the blog article is the cliche explanation, that you cannot sacrifice one without the other.  That you must accept the dark and the light. You must learn to dance with both.

I'm not insulting these explanations. They are, in fact, true. They provide us with the only sustainable way to keep going as a creative, someone who is both supported and tortured by their imagination. We can either learn to love wrestling with the good and bad of having a rich imagination, or we can allow ourselves to sink into our own souls, buried in the quicksand of our own consciousness.  And as someone with a vivid imagination can attest to, that does not sound pleasant at all.

I am still working on this dance, and one bright spot I realized recently is that when you have a stellar imagination, it means you can imagine that things could be different than they are at the present moment. Imagination means you have what it takes to believe that a situation that is really crummy can turn around--this keeps you hopeful. You can also see that a long string of good fortune could also suddenly transform into hard times---this keeps you humble and prepared for different outcomes.

Do whatever it takes to shift from the imagined nightmares to the potential delights and you will feel more alive, more empowered.  It might take kitten videos on YouTube, baking brownies, an unprecedented movie marathon, or just holing up in your house and sitting quietly with yourself for an entire weekend.  Learn the dance well enough that it becomes routine and you can have fun with it. The world needs the gifts of our imagination more than ever right now, and we can only lend ours if we are vigilant about caring for ourselves, however we need to.

Here's one more little graphic about imagining the worst that I found that made me laugh. Perhaps I could at least get myself a cape?

I've made mention of a special protocol I am following, called the AIP, or Autoimmune Protocol on the blog a few times now, and figured that with 2016 coming to a close, it was time to explain some more details once and for all. 

You might be asking "What does food have to do with creativity?" I would urge to read on. The AIP is, in fact, so much more than a food based experiment--it's a lifestyle protocol involving food, sleep, stress management, and movement. The idea is to eliminate certain foods that are known to flare autoimmune conditions, and once your symptoms have improved, to test the foods back in one at a time to see how your body reacts. In doing this, you see firsthand what foods nourish you most, and what foods are triggers for inflammatory responses. At the same time, it's crucial to get deep, quality sleep, gentle exercise, and manage your stress. 

As most of my own circle of friends and family may already know, I've been following AIP for almost two years now. I was diagnosed with severe psoriasis in the Winter of 2015, and after trying out several creams, lotions, and other potions with super scary warnings and ingredients that didn't seem to be helping long-term, I decided to give the AIP a shot. My primary care doctor also supported this idea. What did I have to lose? 

The transition was a bit tough, as I had previously eaten anything and everything I wanted, with no known allergies. For the first five months on the AIP, I didn't see any changes in my skin. In fact, I saw some of the lowest lows I have ever had with my psoriasis. I lost a decent amount of hair because of it, and was too self conscious to be around many people. I cancelled any haircut appointments and dreaded acting in a production, lest the hair and make-up stylist see my skin and scalp, which were in bad shape. I felt shamed. Feeling this way and being an actor do NOT go hand in hand, and I was determined to get my body back.

Around month six of the AIP, my symptoms had improved drastically. Today, 21 months into the AIP, I am thrilled to say that my symptoms are 85-90% improved, and I have reintroduced a few foods already. I acted in five stage productions and one short film this past year and didn't have to feel self-conscious about someone styling my hair or putting stage make-up on my face. Health is not separate from your life, it IS your life. For me, when I feel like I gained some knowledge of and control over what was happening with my body, I feel like I got my life back. It feels AMAZING!

The AIP has also taught me to speak up for myself when I need to. I have learned to not feel weird about ordering differently at a restaurant when I go out with friends (burger with avocado, bacon, onion, mushrooms, in a lettuce wrap, anyone?) and I have learned that it's ok to turn down to invitations to do social activities that keep me up too late if I am feeling worn out (my bedtime is around 9:30 or 10 PM most nights). It's been amazing to see so many of the people I love support me in this whole experiment and not mind a bit if I don't eat dessert at a holiday or need to request a special meal at a wedding or special occasion. And this summer, I actually  had a friend of a friend confess that she has been dealing with psoriasis as well, and she decided to give the AIP a go herself. I was so happy when she told me that she was much improved this fall as well! 

In the end, I wanted to share because it's part of my life right now, and so is inextricably linked with my own creative life. And on the slim chance that anyone else is dealing with an autoimmune disease right now and wants to give this whole AIP thing a try, I would be more than happy to share more about my experience. I've also read the stories of folks who have drastically improved their quality of life living with MS, arthritis, Hashimotos, celiac disease, and countless other autoimmune conditions through the AIP. It's so inspiring. 

For now, if you are looking for resources, recipes, and community for the AIP, here are my favorite go-to sites:

http://autoimmune-paleo.com/opt-in

https://www.thepaleomom.com/

http://www.comfortbites.co.uk/

http://www.phoenixhelix.com/

http://asquirrelinthekitchen.com/

Grateful to get the chance to share my story with you here. As an artist, my tools are my physical body, my imagination, and my emotions. I will do what it takes to care for those things, for ME, as best as I can. It's full of ups and downs, but in the long run, is trending towards up. I think that's what counts. 

Wishing you a restorative and festive holiday season and New Year!

Happy Saturday, everyone! It's been many moons since I posted a new podcast, but as I find I have less and less patience for spending time on a screen these days, podcasts are going to become more frequent. Today, I dare you to say no to a creative project that you're not 100% jazzed about in order to make room for the things you really want to do, creative and otherwise.

In our "YES!" obsessed creative culture, I am proposing that we start saying "NO!" When we say no to something that doesn't excite or nourish us, we are actually saying yes to another opportunity, though we might not even know what it is yet.

Take out the creative trash.

Take something off your plate and don't feel guilty about it.

Make room for what you REALLY want to make.

By creating space, we are telling the universe (and ourselves) that we are ready for all the inspiration, opportunity, and creativity that might be coming our way. 

When we are overscheduled, overworked, short on sleep, and deprived of fun, connection, and rejuvintion, we cannot be our best creative selves.

Say NO. Do it. It feels rebelious at first. Then it feels amazing.

WIshing you a restful weekend, and thanks for listening!

P.S.: Once of these days, I'll figure out how to get the recording on a reputable podcast site. But as you know, I believe in DIY, and so, here is the old fashioned, slightly scrappy version of my podcast below :)

This weekend I took a Suzuki master class in Boston, my first experience with this particular theatre training technique and I was pleasantly surprised how much I loved it. The technique, which focuses heavily on the feet and lower body, was developed by Tadashi Suzuki, founder and director of the Suzuki Company of Toga, based in Toga Village, Japan. I learned a bit about him and his training methods when I became interested in the work of NYC based SITI Company, which he co-founded, along with the fascinating Anne Bogart. 

What is the Suzuki Method, you ask? SITI Company's training page on their website offers a nice concise description:

Developed by internationally acclaimed director Tadashi Suzuki and the Suzuki Company of Toga, the Suzuki Method’s principal concern is with restoring the wholeness of the human body to the theatrical context and uncovering the actor’s innate expressive abilities. A rigorous physical discipline drawn from such diverse influences as ballet, traditional Japanese and Greek theater, and martial arts, the training seeks to heighten the actor’s emotional and physical power and commitment to each moment on the stage. Attention is on the lower body and a vocabulary of footwork, sharpening the actor’s breath control and concentration.

The whole class was physically challenging but supportive, and I feel like I really learned so much about what my body can do. Not to mention how often I ignore most of it, most of the time. Offstage: at my day job, where I slouch over a keyboard typing away for hours; crammed onto a subway train during rush hour; walking up the stairs to my apartment. Onstage, too. Crossing stage left to right, aware that I'm using both my feet but not feeling completely rooted; asking a question of my scene partner and unsure what to do with my hands; too many times that I've leaned towards acting with my face and not the rest of me. 

The class taught us to isolate our feet, hands, legs, fingers, and invited me to give such specific attention to each one of those parts that I walked away feeling kind of amazed about the human body. I mean, look at your hand. Open and close it. Wiggle your fingers. Make a fist. Use your hand to try to get an imaginary person in front of you to pay attention to an  urgent issue you are having. Use your hand to indicate to someone that all is calm and there is nothing to fear. The range of motion! The dexterity! Is there anything more incredible than that? Seriously? Honestly, it's absolutely stunning to have a human body, with all it is capable of doing, and I want to really explore the range of what I can do with mine instead of getting stuck in the same old habits and routines. 

Before you think I may have gone off the deep end here, stay with me. Besides the physical benefits of the training (of which I'm sure my muscles will notice fully tomorrow!), I walked away with a few amazing ideas to think about as an actor and a human. Here's a few of my favorites that I am totally stealing from our brilliant instructor:

1. It's impossible NOT to wobble, wiggle, sweat, swear, or doubt when doing some of the exercises. And that's how it should be onstage, too. Don't hide it. Suzuki didn't name some of his exercises "the impossible tasks" for nothing, and essentially, people go to the theatre to see this struggle. If it were easy from the start, we wouldn't have a play (or a life).

2. As an actor standing still onstage or in silence, your engines need to be churning all the time. This way, you aren't just someone standing still, you are potential energy that has the ability to take off and fly any time you need to. Keep those engines strong and your energy full. A moment of stillness does not equal complacency. 

3. If you lose your coordination and center, try shifting your focus from your self to someone or something outside you. Get interested in what your scene partner is saying  or doing or what is happening on the horizon. It will give you a way to reengage your energy and attention. 

4. Concentration is different than paying attention. Concentration feels militant, restrictive, and deadening. But paying attention? The whole world opens up to your senses when you pay attention.

5. Finally, my favorite from the day: You can be creative. You can be curious. But you can only do one of them at a time, and if you have a choice, choose to be curious. 

So good, right? I got a chance to participate in and observe an exercise in which we had to visualize an image on the distant horizon and walk slowly downstage towards it. If I'n honest, when I started walking, no image came to mind and I started to panic. Without even thinking about it, I started to imagine that I could see something, but it was too far away to know what it was, so I had to keep walking and trying to figure it out. I had to be curious about it. When I switched places and got the chance to observe, my favorite people to watch were those whose responses to the image evolved over the course of their walking. It's almost as if they became more and more curious and full of wonder the closer they got to the image and it was palpably dynamic. Pretty cool. 

I'm tired in the best way; I feel like I spent the day paying an unusual amount of attention and trying something completely new. I wonder how this might affect my next role or even the way I carry my groceries home from the store? One of my favorite things about acting is that there are always more layers to keep peeling back, and each time you do, you get a different slice of yourself and the world. I suppose it's like that being a human being as well. How could one ever be bored?

If you get a chance, check out a video of some Suzuki training. It's fascinating!

Tonite is opening night for Two Roads Performance Projects' production of Letters to Medford and I am getting opening night butterflies already! I love this play and this group of people that I get to play with and our unique "theatre" space,, and feel grateful that I get to spend the evening telling a story in a wonderfully intimate space. The play was originally staged in 2014, and this is the first time I've gotten the chance to revive a role. It's like taking a trip through time both as your character and you, the actor, and an incredible opportunity to have a reunion with the rest of the cast, director, and playwright!

When I was cast in my very first role in a play, a member of the chorus in You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown, I celebrated opening night by listening to the song "Opening Night" from The Producers--and I've done it for most openings ever since. I can also remember dancing to Abba's "Mamma Mia" and "Dancing Queen" during intermission of the high school musical on opening night and have no shame admitting that I still have a soft spot for their special brand of Swedish flair. 

This year, instead of "Opening Night", I started of the day singing "My Shot" from Hamilton, off-key, as I walked to the morning train, and decided to wear a beautiful skirt and pearl earrings that belonged to my Grandma, who passed away last spring. Just a small way of celebrating, and completely unbeknownst to most people, but it feels like a special way to mark the day. 

What about you? Do you have a regular ritual for celebrating opening night? Any superstitions? I find theatre traditions pretty interesting, and am always looking for different and creatives ways to give a nod to a first performance. 

Above is a sneak peek at a production photo from the show--I play the ghost of Lydia Maria Child, one of Medford's most well known historical figures. Child was a women's rights activist, abolitionist, writer, and domestic guru--I find it fascinating that she became a social outcast after writing articles and books on racial equality AND she advocated for decorating with flowers and playing party games. That's what I like about her though---she's a three dimensional human being.  Oh, and she wrote "Over the River and Through the Woods", but would probably be mortified if she knew that the poem is what we commonly remember her for. 
​
What about you? Anyone performing this weekend or seeing anything special? Wishing you a wonderful weekend, Friends.