From A to Zac Effron

As in... how I got from not being able to pick Zac Effron out of a crowd to pledging in a chirp to the twittersphere yesterday that I will love him forever and a day.  In all of his angsty glory:





As a marine:

 

And even if he has been in / to rehab.

FOREVER.

and a day.

You see it all started when I was being a teacher's assistant at a summer camp in Weston a few (ahem, over five years ago now), and got asked by the camp director to run a theatre workshop, and taught the kids to sing that song from the original High School Musical Stick to the Status Quo.  I actually don't think Zac Effron's even IN that scene, but because I took a liking to the catchy-ness of that ditty, and then stumbled upon the brilliance that is Zac Kevin Bacon in Footloosing through the fields courtesy of this comparison video, I allowed myself to watch 17 Again.  And the rest is history.

Important update: there's just one 'F' in Efron.  Thank God I wrote this post.  I'd hate to have Z.E. find out I've been posing as his superfan - unable to even spell his name right.  Lords.

 

 

I keep losing count

but it's 6. 

6 weddings on the books so far for 2014. 

well, 4 techinically.

but a likely 6 ultimately.  once we clear christmas and the couples have had a chance to scope out venues available next fall.

so. 

the season of life is going strong.

in case anyone was worried it was threatening to taper off.

6 weddings, 2 babies, 1 new adventure.

2014...I'm so ready for you

Lovely

Sometimes even when you're just wearing your big puffy black winter coat and gym clothes, if you've just come from getting a manicure and your blonde hair blown out, a very handsome man will walk by you on the Upper West Side and say in his French or Italian accent, "lovely."  And it's so flattering.  And such a nice treat.  And not creepy or smarmy at all.  Just really quite lovely to hear.

Question: why shouldn't you get what you want?   Or at the very least try to?

A twofold twofer

Twofold in that

first: I want to post 5 times this month, so I'm happy to share random musings twice on this merry little late Friday morning since it gets me that much closer to my goal.

second: I have wanted to post this pic for a couple weeks now

and then Tuesday night at the Council for Women of Boston College Lean In inspired Beginning the Journey event there was talk of how women are more likely than men to use both sides of their brain and assess situations from multiple angles than men according to a recent study at U Penn: Male and Female Brains Really Are Built Differently. 

I like to think of myself as a perfect example of anything.  So this'll do.

Julie the Cat

Last night as I was falling asleep my brain was working SO hard to remember who Pacey (from Dawson's Creek) was in the world of the Mighty Ducks.  I was oddly in denial that he was Emilio Esteves' surrogate son, Charlie.

And I only had the Ducks on my mind due to a funny and brief discussion that came up a few nights ago in Newton when I was engaged in conversation with my bambina sorella, rock banding brother, and Tao spouting Papa.

The subject of street hockey came up.  How you couldn't play it with a real hockey puck if you tried.  The baby sister said you need a ball right?  And my brother and I said, well yeah, OR one of those orange pucks with the silver balls in them:

"Have you ever even played street hockey," I asked the little one.

"Have you?" she retorted.

And how amazing is it that I could respond, "have I???  There was a time when you could call me 'Julie the Cat.'"

And my brother - who you know, sometimes is my best friend and sometimes is my mortal enemy and vice versa, answered the look she shot him questioning this declaration, "it's true."

Something I am so grateful for is the glory that was growing up on Tolman St with neighbors next door who were the same age as me and my two brothers.  We were like the kids on Hey Arnold playing stick ball.  We were X-men, and Magic & Marie who lived on a houseboat, we were a rock band, we were soldiers in water wars, and we were Mighty Ducks, like good old Julie the Cat:

Day 14 - Grateful Me

As I have shared a gajillion times with whomever's willing to lend me their ear for a moment this month: I'm DOprah-ing for the third time this year.  Meditating with Deepak & Oprah for 21 days. 

This round, I'm using the prompts and writing in the journal every morning following the meditations and today's I feel inclined to share with the interwebs:

Question 3 of 4

Who are you grateful for today? Write a thank you letter to one or all of them detailing all of your appreciation and gratitude. Consider sharing your words in an e-mail, text, letter or spontaneous call. 

I am grateful for everyone who and everything that has shaped my New York experience in the past five years.  From Bob Cline to Alfred Heller to Tamika Covington and Chris whatever his last name was and Thomas G. Waites and his accountant, and Mike Still and Danielle Carroll, and Lacey, Heidi, Meg, Michelle, Sarah Chandler, Daniel Bundt and Chris here at Will's and Will and Anthony of course and Alvin and Brad and Matt Putorti, and David DeBarros, and Melissa Cox, Jen Marsh, Kate Taylor, Fatima, Nicole, Micah, Halle, Jo, Chris, SB, my parents, my sisters, Ryan and Annie, Matt Leisy, Alison, Zaq, Kim Reynolds, The Brooklyn Barons, Mick and Alexis, Duss and Mike, and Sobes and Vicki, Geoff, the other Williams people who's parties I went to on whims, Becca Ain, Lauren Jacobi, Rich, MSB, Twain, Dan Lolli, Marco, Marissa Christmas, Mower, Michelle, my cousin Jon, Ray, Victor, the Nunziatas, the ENNIS artists current and past, Barbe, Nicole, Sara Campbell, Christine Smith, Brian Smith, Alex Palombo, Jose-Gabriel, the Okay Cupid guy from January who I went on three dates with, my nanny and papa, grandma and grandpa, my Uncles Kenny and Kevin, my cousin Kaileen, Michael and Brian Ferrolito, the movers I used last December, Kate Hickey, Drew & Sygale, my subletters, my audition circuit acquaintances, my improv friends, my life coach Liz, my improv teachers and coaches, my one night stands, Will's one month flings, my first NY hookup (the musician), my first NY date (the republican), the casting agents at Telsey who I went in for three times, the casting team for the Drowsy Chaperone tour who called me back five times, Brooke & Mary, the Iovate people, the Microsoft brand people, the theatre dance teacher at Steps and the hip hop teachers at NYSC especially the one I liked and the one that scared me, the cabbies who got me home safe, the baristas at the Starbucks on 81st and Columbus, the Broadway Bagel guy, Lady Doctor Oz, the magnet theatre, the Laurie Beechman, Maude Adams, Katelyn, Jess, my Aunties Jean and Anita, my Uncles Jim and Jeff, my godmother Debbie and her daughter Sam, Sam and Morgan, and Emily Kadish on the 1 train and Liza Rutenback and Becky Farmer on the Lower East Side, and the Pelusos, and Emma and Harry and Casper, and Hayley, and Erin Stutland, and Deepak and Oprah, and Eckhart Toll, and Greg Behrendt, and Fr. Duffel, and Marianne and Margaret and Dana and Brett, and Ryan and Andrea and Pamela Bubolo, and Jan and Barb and Garreth and YiiMei, and Aurelie Jezequel and Jackie and Marnie and James and Man-Lai, and Adhesive and Fotoworks, and Le Book and Casting Networks and Actors Access and Mary Colomba and Namecheap.com, and Kathleen and Robbie and Michael King and Tracey and Elizabeth and Bob, and Jason and Feinsteins and West Side Markets and Ray's Original Pizza and Koronets and Louie Lips and Cherelle at the Bed Bugs registry, and Manhattan Apartments and Michael Frazer (RIP), and JTS and Alex, Eric, Frank, LaurenAli, the BC NYC Chapter, Creative Minds Salon, Blu, Tonya Pinkins, Mark Fisher, Brian Patrick Murphy, Stacy, Amanda, Katie, Stasia, Brian and Jaya, the game nazi, the graduate admissions people at Columbia, the agents who responded to my queries about Inboxed, Jeanette, Tom Cassazone, Kyle Stewart, Karen, Rich, Kelly Doyle, the guy in the kilt, the Red Sox, the scalpers at Yankee Stadium, the Bradleys, Tracey, Mower's other Manhattan girlfriends, Kate Dorman, Matt, Britt and Sammy, Lacey's Kristina, the Galapogos Art Space, The Big Apple Circus, the Broadway, Matthew Broderick, Ryan Reynolds, Scarlett Johansen, Hugh Jackman, Julianne Moore, Kristin Chenoweth, Grace Coddington, the people who work at the Post Office on W 104th St, the singers at the Church of St Paul the Apostle, the bass player at jazz mass, the upper east siders in the congregation of St Ignatius on Park Ave, the guys at Brother Jimmy's, the hipsters in Brooklyn, the ladies at Curves in midtown, the jitney bus drivers, the sales associates at Mandees and Strawberry and Macys and J Crew and Anthropolgie and Urban Outfitters, the NYPD, the salvation army bell ringers, the AM New York and Metro distributors, Time Warner Cable, my friends' roommates and roomates' friends, Billy, Spyros, Tocco, Jim, Culli, Carolyn, Dave Bruin, Thayer, the Meg(h)ans, Jess Kelly, Lauren formerly McLaughlin, everyone at those BC Theatre holiday parties, everyone at the few BC gamewatches I've gone to, everyone on the crews of web series I've been in, anyone who has read my blog, or liked my facebook statuses or commented on how they could never live in NYC, my brussels boy, Ronnie Nicholas, Sam Willmott, Ari Scott, Laura Rose, Dimple Pleasures, the Sing Kids, Michael Martin, Frank Spitznaegal, Frank's wife, my godson and cousins Neil and Matthew and Annie and Kathleen and Colleen and Mackenzie, Mackenzie's cousin and aunt, my therapist, the Upper West Side, Central Park, Riverside Park, the West Side Highway, Chelsea Markets, Anthony's softball team, my first Easter away from home, my rock solid foundation back in Boston, Times Square, 42nd Street, The Legally Blonde Soundtrack, my boots, Rose at Hair Farfalla, $10 manicures, the pulse of Manhattan, the ferry to Staten Island, the GoBus, the megabus, the one amtrak trip I've taken back to MA in the past five years on the company's dime, Devachan, Le Pain Quotidiens, two cell phones, a mobile office, Bubba, Sally Esposito, dollar stores, dreams, drive, faith, compassion, competition, creativity, courage, commitment, inspiration, belief, desire, destiny.         

I have half a mind

to do the following on this humpday afternoon:

* hop on a bus to Boston and be home for Thanksgiving a week early - cause why not?  (I know why not, I have to finish Snatched, and go to the BFF's 30th bday party Saturday, and catch up with some friends first), but still.

* poke some people on facebook who I feel sad to have fallen out of touch with but not quite motivated enough to pick up the phone and call

* do the entirety of my Christmas shopping online and pay for everything with the billmelater option that sly devil of a no interest deal

* lie on my bed and cry quietly over nothing in particular other than the fact that my birthday's a week away and my bonnie lies over the ocean as it were

* tell my clients what I really think of them and the way they're handling their business with our agency at the moment

* compare my weight in pictures from the past five years

* listen to early 2000s emo

* draft the guest list for my wedding

* practice a few hours of loving-kindness meditation, cause I'm good like that.

YEA!

Au contraire!!!

Is that French?

I'm not sure.  I took Italian.

But here, friends, is what I have to beg to differ on:

http://www.buzzfeed.com/daves4/the-absolute-worst-parts-of-your-childhood 's numero 17.  Number 18's spot on.  And number 23 nails it, but these:

THESE WERE MY FOURTH GRADE JAMMMMM

As in, I freaking loved these things. 

Particularly because when we reached some nominal goal like 500 correct minutes amongst the lot of us fourth graders back at Franklin Elementary School we got to have our FIRST BOY GIRL DANCE!!!!  I mean, technically it was a Mad Minute party, but everyone knew it was really a dance cause, that's right, there was a DJ brought into the auditorium for the final 45 minutes of that school day.

So holllaaaaaa.

Know what I'm saying?

Personally, I think,

once in a while, everyone really should be able to just say yes to something that’s less risky than it is guaranteed to be good.   

I really believe that.   

We need to order just right, or to take a taste from the right porridge, sit in the right chair, and lie down on the right bed to use my Goldilocks metaphor, because trial and error’s definitely important, and we learn from our mistakes and through the adjusting, but we’re only human and sometimes it’s so darn lovely to get it right on the first go.

This is a thought I had in August when I was writing for 30 minutes/day.  

And I thought I'd share it now.

Unceremoniously Yours

I say the only man in my life for the past 5 years has been Manhattan.

And I acknowledge that I'm in a long term relationship with my day job as an Agent. 

My entry to life in the Big Apple was pretty fanfare-less.  My roomie and I toasted with wine in these mugs our moms had bought us before our moves to Manhattan circa Labor Day 2008:

I came with a flip phone and a bag of dreams, as my bff would say, and I was on my A-Game.  It was like when I first got to college and auditioned for and was cast in Godspell as a freshman.  There was a fire in me as bright as the color blonde I'd recently dyed my hair on my second trip to Brisbane, Australia.

I'm not sure what happened in five years.  Where the spunk went, how the dreams changed, when I realized I was only passing through.

But I'll go as unceremoniously and feeling as kick-ass as I did when I came.

So that's fun, huh?

Happy Halloween from this BAMF Boston Blonde.  Go Sox and goodbye & good riddance October!

I'm Over October

I pretty much always am by this time in the 10th calendar month of the year.

And maybe right now I feel particularly strongly about this because first of all it's FREEZING in my apartment thanks to the imperfect science that is heat in the city, second of all Mercury's in Retrograde from here till mid November, and third of all because I don't have any travel on the books till the weekend of Nov 9th and I'm always antsy when staying put for more than 2 weeks at a time, but I'm pretty sure it's just an annual itch I get.

Because November brings all my favorite things.  And October's just like the Connecticut to my NY - Boston and Boston - NY drive.  A big ol' stupid chunk of time spent in limbo.

To move the month along, I'm not watching the World Series till game 3 and I'm not observing Halloween, and I'm wearing fuzzy socks like these ones every damn day.  Thank goodness I get a new pair every year from my Nanny Janny in her mystery Christmas giftbag:

Sign of 29

Yep.  That neck pain I had in August.  This rolled ankle I got stepping off the damn bus from NYC last night.  These are things that would never have happened ten years ago or even two.

But in case I've been living in denial that I'm down to my last year as a twentysomething, the old bag of bones has taken it upon itself to give me a sharp reminder. 

And so I'm hobbling and just hoping that a weekend of rest (outside of dancing at this year's barn wedding of the century on Saturday) will have me back in ninja shape for some more sad dog and porn starring with my friends at http://markfisherfitness.com/snatched-in-6-weeks/

Some people ain't me

(obviously inspired by:



although actually it was the Bette Midler version I grew up listening to on car trips with the fam).

My dad has always resented the musical Pippin for the complex he said it instilled in my brother, the singer, and me.  "Gotta find my corner of the sky" and do extraordinary things "when you're extraordinary" we've felt justified in asserting ever since those lyrics were ingrained in our heads when bro played the title role back in the year 2000.

If ever there were a year to adopt a mantra or life philosophy.  It was the TURN OF THE CENTURY for goodness sake.

In any case... my dad should have begrudged Bette for bidding "goodbye to blueberry pie" years before on the casette tape we had of the TV movie star turn she'd had as Mama Rose.  Because that may very well be where I first found that urge to burst out.  I knew I'd never thrive and bloom living life in a living room and Mama Rose does it for her girls, but I was going to get myself to the big city come hell or high water for me.

And I did.

And my dad has also commented on how when he's seen me walk through the streets of Manhattan while visiting with my mom he's marveled at the way the energy I must exert pounding the pavement charges right back up into me with each clip or clop of my heels on the sidewalk, because I'm alive here (there), my heart beats to the pulse of NYC.

What's been interesting for me to notice in the past month since I've moved west (of the Hudson) is to analyze the bulk of the people who have also come guns blazing to be in the Big Apple.  Most (some) people HAD to leave where their from, were the ONLY ones to get out, and would never go back as often as I do/have.  They came to connect to the NYC life line and cut ties with their former lives.  They're baffled by the way my life resembles 27 Dresses because that's the kind of story that requires you to have stayed connected to where you came from and who you were before you got to start anew in the concrete jungle where dreams are made.

But some people ain't me.  And far as I go west, I'll likely always call West Newton home.

I tell people I turned off my biological clock for a few years

Or well, I just told one person.

But now that I've come upon that turn of phrase, you know I'm going to employ it on the reg in discussions of game plans and time frames and thoughts on the subject of fertility and whatnot.

My mother made the biggest faux pas of the decade at my college roommate's med school graduation party when she said to one of my other Manhattanite friends that she should be worried her eggs were going to dry up.  I mean, really, MamaNaugs, not her best truth in jest moment.  The joke was light hearted in its intention of course, but it's the kind of off color remark that really hits home with a twentysomething single gal.

Even while we're loving our lack of commitments and the freedom we have while we're not tied down, we're counting the months that go by - we know there's a limited supply of babies-to-be backed up in our ovaries.  We're not stupid.

But, it dawned on me in this conversation I just found myself in that the me who wanted to have babies by the time I was 29 was someone so different than who I am today and even who I was once I'd bounced from Boston in the Fall of 2008.

That truly was before I moved to Manhattan and turned off my biological clock for a few years.

And now of course as we round the bend from the wedding season of my life to the baby boom I'm happy to report that I do in fact still harbor some maternal instinct.  It's just that I'm keeping it in reserve - like my potentially dried up eggs, and I'll tap into it in a good five or six years (hopefully) when all's quiet on the Western front.

If ever an Onion article's hit close to home

It's this one.

Oh the paradox.

Divine Secrets

Sending love to my Nook Girls who don't necessarily know they're in my prayers as often as they are.  And who won't necessarily stumble upon this post anytime in the near future.  But who never fail to be the ones that know the song in my heart and sing it back to me when I have forgotten it, which, chorus girl that I am when all's said and done, is pretty poignant. 

http://www.thehouseofhendrix.com/2013/07/16/35-things-i-want-my-daughter-to-know-about-girlfriends/

All 8 of us will be in 1 place for the first time in 4 years 3 months from tomorrow. 

Doesn't get much better than that!

The time is 12:45AM

I still haven't figured out how to write that in military time... 0045 I guess?  How do you say that?, I wonder.

Also, remember when before we all had cell phones that automatically updated us with the time of day regardless of where we are in the world, you used to be able to dial N-E-S-T-L-E-S, which was 637-8537 to get the time told to you by a pre-recorded operator?  I don't think you even needed to dial an area code.  And I definitely don't think I realized I even remembered that you could do that until just now, when I decided to title this post with "the time is..."

In any case - I'm writing because I'm up.  I went to bed two hours ago, after a VERY productive Saturday.  It's actually my first uneventful Saturday of the Summer as I've otherwise had to travel, or attend a function, or perform, or partake in some sort of celebration every other Saturday for the past 8 weeks, so simply having no obligations has been significant in and of itself.  Naturally I had to find a use for this freeby though...couldn't just "futz around" as my roommate declared he was doing this morning when he emerged from his room sometime between 11am and noon.

So I set myself a writing goal for the weekend, and I'm right on schedule, which is always a treat, but as I prefer writing earlier in the day to late at night, I thought I'd turn in around 10:45pm and get a good night's sleep.  I'm 2/3 of the way through the writing I wanted to finish over the course of these two days, so I should have no trouble wrapping things up tomorrow between a work out and mass. 

But first I've gotta go count sheep.

Or somethin.

I'm a "soon as my head hits the pillow" sort of sleeper, so I never quite know how to respond to insomnia.  It graces me with its presence maybe once a year.

I thought perhaps a blog post as a palette cleanser might help in this case.  So thanks in retrospect for bearing the brunt of my burden by reading this, y'all.

And here's hoping you've had not trouble sleeping as of late.

Loud & Clear: how/why TED Talks fall on this girl's deaf ears

I want to be inspired by TED Talks SOOOO BAD.  I have tried to watch tons of them.  James Cameron's, that guy from Pixar's, Elizabeth Gilbert's - these people are dreamers and doers.  They're TOTALLY speaking my language.

Case in point, I just found this quote in a book I was reading and felt so strongly for it I was inspired to add it to the About Me section of my facebook page:

"All men dream: but not equally...the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act out their dreams with open eyes, to make it possible." -T.E. Lawrence

James Cameron, that guy from Pixar, Elizabeth Gilbert - heck even good old Sheryl Sandberg - these guys and girls are dreamers of the day if I've ever encountered any.  And this one, I just gave a watch/listen to earlier today:



I'll be damned if I didn't want her words to really soak in as I watched it since it's hailed as one of the 15 TED Talks that will totally change your life according to this compilation: http://mashable.com/2013/07/08/ted-talks-change-your-life/#lead-image

BUT

I'm not sure if it's always been a thing or if it's just in the seven years since I've been a serious student, but I cannot retain information I receive auditorially (why is that not a word, btw???).  I'm just 100% officially whatever the opposite is of an auditory learner.

Give me a 10 page transcript of one of these 20 minute lectures any day and I'll take the words to heart.  But listening to them I'm like a little kid distracted by Dora the Explorer playing on the TV when her parents are telling her to put her toys away.

Peacing Out

Not from the Blogosphere - fear not.

But this is on the subject of.  Inspired by this article: 'Don't Say Goodbye' by, Seth Stevenson about Ghosting aka the Irish Goodbye.

A guy I trysted with ever so briefly last Summer introduced me to the term, concept and practice of this sort of departure from a scene, when he texted to apologize one Sunday morning for pulling an Irish Exit from the bar the night before.  (Stay classy, Boston.  Have I mentioned I'm smitten with a Southerner at the moment?  Pretty sure once you go gentleman, you never go back, but more on that another time).

Anyway, I gotta say, while I was unimpressed by the antic last Summer, I'm pretty partial to the way it's portrayed in this article.  Amen to hello's being so much more fun than goodbyes in general, and so long as you're upfront about your intention to go AWOL (ala the Northern Irish Goodbye described in the article), why not skip the silly skulk up to and away from the host?

Just mosey on.  Think to yourself:



but hit the road, Jack.

From the vault

I probably should delete more emails than I do (currently I don't delete any), but I just love how gmail's like this rich correspondence capsule, so once in a while I archive stuff I'd prefer out of sight out of mind, but more often than not I just leave it all in my inbox.  And then once in a while, a search for something turns up a completely unrelated hidden gem.

Like this morning for instance, I was searching the terms bosslady and brooklyn trying to find an old resume of an aspiring actress/stylist my bosslady had wanted me to put in touch with my bff and his brother.

I didn't find that girl's contact info, but I did find this amazing snippet of an email from my grandma midge:

From: Grandma Midge
Date: Oct 2, 2007 7:19 PM
Subject: RE: Kitchen Date
To: Me

Hi Danielle...

I am glad that you had a great trip to NY.
 
Did I ever tell you that it was my deepest wish to become an actress? Jimmie Dean was my idol and when he died I was inconsolable.  I was going to go to NY after high school graduation and try to get into the Actor's Studio (Elia Kazan).  My mother and father were having a fit!   I was all set to try out for the part of St. Joan in Joan of Arc.  They were making a new film of it and touring the country for a new actress.  In the middle of it all I started dating Grandpa and when they came to Boston to do the auditions I was thinking of marriage instead and the rest is history - as they say.

Jean Seberg was picked for the part.  She was from the Midwest.  I always believed I would have been a much better Joan of Arc than she was??!!   She made a few more films that did not get much attention and then she went to France and did some films there.  She later commiitted suicide, which was so sad.  She was so young.  There you go – a piece of our history.

Love you,

Grandma


*********************I mean, does it get any better than that?

Okay serious question

Who should I write for here?

Obviously, I've mostly been writing for myself to date, and maybe a handful of friends, and 20 acquaintances or admirers or anomalies who happen upon a particular post.

But should I try to gain traction?  Pick up the pace?  Extend my reach? 

We have a social media marketing guru at the Agency and she's been making serious moves on our behalf.  Should I make similar moves on my own?  Do people read / follow blogs fo' real?

Can I find a way to merge with the positive online community for women that is Hello Giggles?

I think this is me putting it out in the universe, that it's time to start talking to more listeners.  I want an audience like these guys had.

So that happened

I perform now weekly on Tuesday nights at the Magnet Theatre with this sassy brood:

And it's a hoot, let me tell ya.  Because we host the musical improv mixer, which means, week in and week out we get a wide variety of audience members who are there to partake in the performance and jonesin' for a few minutes of fear inducing and confidence boosting stage time spent coming up with scenework, song lyrics, and choreography on the spot alongside my teammates and yours truly.

It's fun also because I think having a bio page on The Magnet site is helping me gain twitter followers every once in a while when someone stumbles upon this little Hi My Name Is.

It's WEIRD, because it's definitely the most public role I've played since moving to the Big Apple, and so now there are people out there who effectively "know of me."

ie: this dude who was standing at the corner in the theatre between the stage and where the bathroom line had stretched to this past Tuesday night and starting talking to me as I approached said line asking what my name was.  And who proceeded, when I told him, to then tell me that there is a very realistic obituary written about me (as a prank, he assumed?) somewhere on this world wide web of ours.  and, he went on, he thought that I was who I was, and had told himself if he ran into me he would definitely tell me about this post-mordem write-up he'd stumbled upon and cross-referenced with my bio page on The Magnet site... presumably post - googling me???

I don't know.  The guy sort of bounced abruptly after bearing this news.  And a teammate of mine was in front of me in line, had heard the whole thing, and was quick to do a google search there and then which did not turn up much other than the classic xenadrine pics, twitter page and website-in-progress that I've got myself, but he assured me, that had definitely been an uber-weird encounter of the wacky and wonky kind.

So that happened.

And I can't find the prank obituary the guy's talking about, nor do I much want to search around for it beyond a simple googling of my name and the word obituary, cause uhhh, that's all freaking strange and morbid, but I thought I'd share.

The adventure continues!

Have you all seen this?

23 Signs You’ve Lived In New York City Too Long

and so on?

Well, I'd like to add #24:

While on a morning run through your 'rents neighborhood in the 'burbs during your Memorial Day Weekend visit with the fam, you MISTAKE A CHIPMUNK FOR A MOUSE.

And... you don't even squeal.

This blog is bland but I love it

I recently completed a survey about my experience as a BC Theatre major and the value I place on my time spent and education gained in the department, and one of the final questions was "what advice would you give to incoming freshmen about to embark on their BC Theatre careers?" or something to that effect.

And I said "leave the drama on the stage."

My life is still whimsical and very much full of situational comedy and kinda sorta like a fairytale in its own right, but for the most part, it's bland like this blog and I love it too.

So, at my happy yoga dance class Monday night we talked about how May's all about Manifesting.  And I've got some intentions I'm working on like the rest of my astrology loving friends anxious to capitalize on the couplet of eclipses forthcoming in the next three weeks, but tonight, I've got two throwbacks in honor of #TBT (which I can only assume means throw back thursday)....

******************************************

My life goals as of winter of 2005

I'll put a note whenever there's one I've accomplished in the past 8 years :)

* Live abroad for a year (+)

* Graduate with a 3.5 done

* Get under 120 lbs + stay there/fit ->done for about a month in 2011done

* Pay off college/credit card debt by age 32

* Buy first car by age 26 done

* Move to New York City by 2008 done

* Audition in New York City done

* Do Regional/Community Theatre into my 30s

* Be married before age 30 (*ideally by 28)

* Have kids (1 - 3) by age 37

* Travel to every continent

* Consider Higher Ed: Law/Business

* Be happy done

* Be in love

* Be adventurous done

* Be fluent in Italian

* Be in touch with at least 3 home + school friends at all times done

* Be friends with my sisters done

* Go on safari done in Disney World, but I'm holding out for the real thing
* Go scuba diving / swimming w/ dolphins

& The top four things that could always make me happy as of March 2005

1. Driving makes me happy because singing makes me happy, and especially while at school where I don't feel comfortable belting my heart out in the dorms, I find it an uber release to just get in the car blast Broadway or Kiss108 and be the American Idol I secretly think I am.  Singing was my first love and it can alllllways calm me down / raise my spirits.  That's why I couldn't drop bOp even in the thick of things this year, because I love the sound of voices coming together to make music and it's catharsis like no other.

2. Baking cookies makes me happy because I like to see things through to completion.  It's like my reason for secretly having liked math all along:  the equation can almost always be solved if you know the formula - and the cookies will always turn out yummy if you've got the ingredients down.  Following through gives me a sense of accomplishment that can always make me happy.  I also like the fact that I can make them without having to look at the directions as a reference.  It allows me to think about other things or socialize with the people I'm baking for when I can whip them up without taking the time to check my cook book.  Plus I still get happy whenever people take that first bite and enjoy it.

3  And the reason for that is that I'm happy making other people happy.  Cards make me happy because of the thought that goes into them, and shopping for cards makes me happy because I know the perfect one is out there for whoever I have in mind.  I love buying gifts that I know will make people happy, and I love doing favors for people that I know will make people happy, and I love giving people complements that are going to make them happy, and telling jokes that are going to make them happy, and asking questions they'll be happy to talk about, and hosting successful events they'll be happy at, and well you get the picture on that one.

4.  My family makes me happy.  My family drives me crazy, but I once sat down and popped out 100 some odd Reasons I Love Being A Naugler as an element of an x-mas present for my mom and I was not surprised in the least by how quickly I was able to come up with them all.  My parents make me happy because their love for eachother has only grown in the 20 years since they got married when they themselves were babies, and because they just genuinely love babies and that's why they had so many of us and are able to love us so thoroughly even though they've got to spread themselves pretty thin to do so.  My brother Michael makes me happy whenever I hear him sing or watch him act or be sweet to my sisters or joke with friends and the same goes for Ryan who also makes me happy when he raps or tries to impress my friends even if it's by back farting on the floor, my sisters make me happy because I can just imagine what awesome girls they're going to grow into and I hope the three of us can be the kinds of friends the two of them are right now.  On the whole: fam =s love =s happiness.

********************************************

So yeah.  Just food for thought.  Earlier I bought and mailed 5 cards for mothers day & my dad's bday, because I won't be Boston bound for this "holiday weekend" either - test running for next year when it's just the sorellina's college graduation, a roomie's wedding, and Christmas - mayyybe Thanksgiving, that brings me back East.  And now I'm just in the mood for mellow introspection. 

Here's to manifesting in May.

You are here.

Yesterday I took the 2 train from 96th St to Penn Station after work, before my first 401 improv class at UCB.

I was entirely in my own world, standing mid train thinking about any number of a million things, when this older gentleman tapped me on the shoulder (sort of awkwardly as he was directly in front of me, although I must admit I hadn't even noticed him until he entered my immediately-personal-space bubble with the shoulder tap/poke and anyway), when he had my attention he asked,

"Excuse me do you ride the 1 train?" (to which I said yes I do), and he wondered whether he could transfer to the 1 from the 2 at 14th St or if he had to do so at 42nd Street.  He was going to the West Village.  So I explained that either way he'd have a fine time transferring, the train would come to the track right across from the one we were on at both stops, but he shouldn't worry about holding off until 14th St, that would make his trip that much quicker.

And he said thank you and I said your welcome and was ready to go back to my little lala land, but just then a girl sitting behind me to the left (who again I definitely had not noticed in the time it took to get from 96th St to about 72nd St where we were at that point), spoke up 

"Excuse me - actually, I have a similar question," she said to me, and then she asked if she could transfer at 14th St for the 1 train, because she was ultimately going to South Ferry. 

And she could, I told her.  And she thanked me.  And the older man who'd first consulted me smiled and said something along the lines of "everyone's asking you for a little help today."  To which I smiled and thought about saying something like "real New Yorker" or a remark of that nature, but I couldn't because just then a man I HAD noticed get on the train with me at 96th St and HAD passively noticed NOT be able to get a seat originally, put his hand on my shoulder in the MOST familiar way, like an uncle at a family function excusing himself as he passes behind you to get to the dessert table, and the man who hadn't gotten a seat originally gave me this look, because a seat had opened up right in front of me and he was going for it, and one can only assume that he'd just seen me dole out directions to these two other folks on the train, so he knew I was good for going ahead and letting him take that seat there....

And it was such a bizarre series of events, that I said (under my breath I guess, but aloud probablya and embarrassingly enough) "where am I?"

At which time... I swear to God... a woman walked onto the train at 42nd Street with her nose in a book, and the cover of the book said

And needless to say, I think I know the next book I'll be buying for subway reading material.

Google, Glee, and Go Naugs Go

Good evening blogosphere, happy Spring, happy Saturday!

Some things of note:

1st: Google / Googling.  Have people stopped to think about the ease with which one can be googled?  Namely, have I stopped to think about it?  I know exes have googled me, and I once had a cast mate in a show who was probably 7 years old at the time tell me he was impressed by the fact that I had three pages of relevant stories come up when he googled me, and then apparently there's a rancher in Aurora, CO who googled me just a couple months ago, but like, who else is likely to?  My artists?  My clients?  My future literary agent?  And honestly how easy is it for anyone and everyone to do?

2nd: GLEE.  So today I helped out a friend from Boston College by being a background actor for an episode of a web series she's shooting.  It was a low key and relatively fun way to spend a Saturday morning (hurry up and waiting) at a swanky apartment on the Upper Upper West Side, but the highlight was when the PA designated my role in the scene as that of a college intern trying to get a job out of the random conversations she was having at the party.  College?!  Me?!  Thank you dahhhhling... What's more, she told me, in front of a couple of the other actors, she really would have believed I was college age, and what's more, she could see me on Glee playing one of those high schoolers.  At which point my college friend told her I sing well, and so the PA went on, "go then, you should go be on Glee" and so I said "okay" much to the amusement of the other actors.  I've never had one of those moments where someone says it so nonchalantly, "you should be... go do" - I know it happens to other actors all the time.  Their family members say "you should be on Broadway," "why don't you do that soap that shoots in NYC?" but I guess I'm surrounded by practical people with more realistic expectations and somewhat of an understanding of the uphill road to being an overnight success 10 years in the making.

3rd: Speaking of 10 years in the making and life/careers/relationships and really all things worthwhile being a marathon not a sprint.  I just ran 7 miles wearing my Boston Marathon Runner shirt.  In honor of Boston 2013 being two days from now and that 7 being the farthest I've run since Boston 2012.

But I'll be darned if I don't take what I learned in marathon training/running last year and apply it to things in my life on a daily basis.  We run for our cause, we run cause we can.  In it to finish it.  A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step and all that.  Not to mention, RWE's 'what lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us.'  When you set out to accomplish something, stick to it, get'er done, it is so invigorating and so inspiring.  It's addictive.

True Romance

I haven't wanted to write because I don't want to jinx it.  And you know I'm not really sure what the rules are about writing from the middle of a potentially amazing story you're in the process of living.  Whether it's annoying or inconsiderate or tactless or unnecessary or uninteresting to anyone else (aka the 8 - 30 or so who make up my blog and website's audience and would/will read this).

I mean I've gotten a kick out of telling people the story in the past three weeks.  How my bambina sorella and I had a 15 hour layover in Brussels on our way back from crashing my sorellina's spring break trip in Rome, so we booked a hotel in the Grand Place and took in some sights before settling back at the first bar we noticed in the cab from the airport to our hotel that night around 8 when we got in to Belgium.

We probably spent from 9:30pm to 12:30am in the company of our new friend.  I'd asked if he knew we were American when he heard us talk or when he'd seen that my sis was wearing a flannel shirt.  Actually, he said, at first he'd thought we may be locals.

Our blonde hair had garnered some funny pick up lines the day before in Rome ("i like your curly hair...happy women's day... love me tonight?") and a couple hours earlier as we were deciding between chocolate, waffles and french fries for our traditional Belgium street meal ("hello...can i kidnap you for 24 hours?  you can kidnap me," and of course you need to imagine that first series in an Italian accent and this second one in a Flemish accent), but in Belgium, which is like the DC of Europe - a verifiable international hub - based on the languages we were approached with we were seemingly passing as French, Irish, German, and apparently even Belgian. 

Anyway what's funny is what propelled me to book the tix for my littlest sis and me.   My netflix queue is stacked with movies that were a big deal on average seven years ago.  What was I so busy doing seven years ago I wonder that I missed so many movies I'd meant to see?  Theatre I suppose.  I did 14 shows in the two years I spent living in Boston after college.  So I didn't really have many nights and weekends free to take in films.

But now, I have and use netflix, so I'm slowly but surely catching up on pop culture.  And I rented PS, I Love You with Hillary Swank and Gerard Butler, who plays Irish but is a Scott, I believe. And I'll be damned if that movie didn't just smack me in the face with a reminder of how romantic Ireland is/was.

I decided as the credits started to roll, that, fine that was it, I would book my flight and my sister's.  Cause we had to run to Rome.  Even if just for a few days.  A ROMANtic get away.  Literally.  It would be a trip all about sisterhood and spontaneity, connecting with our Italian roots, and reveling in the fun that would be getting to go out to the discotecas together and seeing sights and speaking in our pigeon Italian.  A rejuvenating jaunt, and really just a fun little adventure.  It would be romantic even if we were all single right now and unlikely to have the time or the where-withal to pick up any Italian Stallions or ride on the back of mopeds with them to Tuscany, because what is more romantic than Europe?  All of the history, the art, the sounds that roll around in peoples' mouths as they speak those languages or as they speak English in their endearing accents be them Italian, Flemish, Irish... Southern...

That's the thing, I heard the southern accent amidst the international cacophony we were surrounded by at Churchills - the English Pub we settled on having a pint or two and eating our french fries with curry ketchup at.  And maybe it's faded from what it once was, but it was warm like a hug and low in timber like the motor of a tractor, a discernible drawl.

And then I took my coat off and in a game changing gesture decided to hang it behind me instead of putting it with my purse on the open chair to my right.

And then there was this quick exchange of eye contact.  And we were off.  And three hours later it was so cute that my bambina sorella was asking whether she should leave me alone, because of course no, I told her, there was no way I was ditching her for a dude effectively leaving her alone at 18 in a city where they speak French and Flemish, but if the connection counted, it'd find a way to work itself out. And I just had a feeling, less from the 3 hour convo and more from that momentary eye contact exchange that it counted.

I can think of 3 times in my life when I've had those exchanges.  And they've all been so crazy!  So telling.  So unique and so charged.  And I wish I were a writer with the words to fully summarize all that went on in the instances of those exchanges.  Cause if I were, I bet I'd already have a literary agent - ha - but suffice it to say, they lead to true romance.  And prove that Wall-E was write to harp on good old Cornelius Hack's hindsight.  Who knows what will happen, one day at a time and all that, I'm hardly waiting for a princess styled happy ending but I've definitely been reminded of how these two have really got it figured out:

TALENT

Are you kidding me?  People. are. so. talented.

I mean we all have our gifts.  And I love mine.  And yours.  And I celebrate them and believe in them and all that.  I just need to take a minute here to acknowledge this guy's.  This "Paint'"s.

This is smart and funny and so well shot and sung. 

Poor princesses.

That's why fairytales just shouldn't end.  They should be stories sans finales.

Lives lived intenionally: this guy's style.

Speaking of which.  I am on a wicked good read kick.  As in, every book I pick up or get told to read right now, in this 2013, is so good.

Having AND eating my cake

Cause seriously, there's plenty to go around.

This weekend I will have two too many raviolis with my extended Italian family in Topsfield, MA on Saturday at our belated celebration of Carnival and then one too many guinesses with my extended Irish family in Pepperell, MA on Sunday.

Where in god's name are either of those towns?  No matter.

The point is - there will be much family time to come in both of them in the next few days, and this city girl is seriously making the rounds in 2013 as we lead up to the La La Launch of 2014.

So is it whackadoo to be fitting in hang out sessions with multiple friend groups, and a big meeting with the bosslady before heading back for a rehearsal with my Magnet Theatre Musical Improv Mixer House-Team Monday night?

You better believe it - but would I have it any other way?

Nope.

Nomadic Naugs gets to have a home and the ability to pick up and take off for a few days at a time, and I'm not apologizing for that.

Because I love having my cake and eating it too.

And there's plenty of cake to go around.  Plenty of cake, plenty of time, plenty of sunshine, people, you just need to take yours!  You just need to pick yourself, player!

We interrupt this message

to bring you this very important and hilarious message I got yesterday in response to the last line of my email to her "ROMA in 2 DAYS!!!"

---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: One of my favorite curly haired friends
Date: Mon, Mar 4, 2013 at 5:38 PM
Subject: Re: flowers
To: Danielle Naugler


AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH SEND A POSTCARD!!!!! THAT IS SOOOOO FUN!!! ARE YOU PACKED?!?!?

oh my good god.  be safe, have fun, and def meet a man who will take you on a moped ride... k greatttt.

eatpraylove.

ooyfchf (One of your favorite curly haired friends)

------------------

Love this.  Love my friends.  Love my sisters.  Love that we're going to be in Rome together for all of 3 days worth of amazing memory making.

The kids are saying #YOLO, and in my effort to carpe diem Newsie style and maximize this time I have when my sisters and I are all still basically 20somethings, I'm saying #YOYO (you're only young once) and living it up.

Arrivaderci, Nueva York.  BRB.

The Curly Diaries

I recently had an encounter with a woman sales clerk - gosh for the life of me I cannot remember where, somewhere like a bodega, or a gas station convenience store - and the woman, who was otherwise gruff in our small exchange (what was I buying?  twizzlers for the road trip I took with my co-worker a week or so ago? beats me...) cheered up some just before I walked away from the transaction.

"You know who you remind me of?" she asked.

"Who?" I replied.

"That girl from the Carrie Diaries - have you seen that new show?"

And I replied that I had not, but thanked her for saying so because that girl was easily 10 years my junior, and she said, "yeah the curly hair.  So cute."  Which was so sweet of her.

Anyway - I am working on a sketch show.  I don't want to say begrudgingly but rather hesitantly as I have not studied this form of comedy yet and I'm wary of trying things I don't feel like I've got at least a minimal mastery of, but I am working on it none the less and decided to hammer out two sketches today before my musical improv show this evening, and moved from my desk to my bed to write and realized I've got 




















by my bedside for two reasons: first because I'm going to watch the show start to finish, it's just a matter of picking a day to start that process.  And second because my inspiration for the year is Carrie Bradshaw.  Curly blonde convinced she can go the distance, with her sassy bob and her wit and whatnot.

I am pretty sure the sketches I wrote both suck.  Perhaps even more than this blog post does, but I'll tell you what, I'm proud I made myself write them.  Because I read Amy Poehler's tips for making it in show business in Entertainment Weekly's "Women Who Run TV" feature a few hours ago on the precor machine at the gym, and one of them was more or less to just keep writing even if some of what you write at first is bad. 

And check out what EW on line did:

Pretty fun / funny right?  Love this idea of Amy Poehler having a theoretical vision board, cause she is on my actual one.

WriterNaugs out.

What's neat about having sisters in college

is that they're re-introducing me to stuff I read and concepts I studied 8 to 10 years ago.

Anyone else remember this: "Grow Up? Not So fast" article in TIME that came out in 2005, written by Lev Grossman?

I had actually studied Emerging Adulthood in a class by the same name with a protege of Jeffrey Arnett's as part of my Human Development courseload.  It was the only time (other than when I was performing there in the Disney Love Songs review my CFF directed) that I set foot in Higgins, the Bio building wherein my roomie-cousin logged countless undergrad hours. 

I loved learning about the hot topic of Emerging Adults, especially when I was about to become one, and I enjoyed re-reading this article with the prospective of having muddled through the years it addresses and feeling about ready to leave this limbo (in another couple or so).  The tidbits that resonate with me the most today as I read through this tale of twixters in my now late-twenties are:

"Hedonistic nomads, the twixters may seem, but there's a serious core of idealism in them."  

To which I say, brava bambina sorella, for calling out my nomadic tendencies at all of 15 or however old you were when you labeled them, years in advance of coming across this article and upon impending 20s of your own, and too, my father's name for Hedonism in our generation is "The Pippin Complex," and too, I am serious about nothing if it is not my idealism.  So no doubt I would have proudly labeled myself a twixter upon first read and I still think of myself as one now...

"Marrying late also means that twixters tend to have more sexual partners than previous generations. The situation is analogous to their promiscuous job-hopping behavior - like Goldilocks, they want to find the one that's just right - but it can give them a cynical, promiscuous vibe too. " 

This speaks to the issues I have here in the blogosphere, interestingly enough, I wish I could just write from the perspective of a hopeful, positive, lady-like Goldilocks-type in the city, but alas I often get swashbuckled into storytelling with a cynical side and presuming promiscuity will produce more interesting posts.

Finally, love the point that,

 "if those who are 30 and older want the rest of the world to grow up, they'll have to show the twixters that it's worth their while. 'I went to a Poster Children concert, and there were 40-year-olds still rocking,' says Jennie Jiang. 'It gave me hope.'" 

To which I say, thank GOD for Judd Apatow:

Honestly, Leslie Mann, in all of her amazing-ness, keeps me trucking toward my 30s and beyond :)

Two Three One Three??!?!

How can it already be 2/3/13?

Holy moly. 

Here are some things of note:

1.  I have officially run out of the head shots I had printed at Reproductions all those many moons ago when I first had my session with Ronnie Nelson, Headshot Photographer to the stars / Ruby Foos waiter to the tourists.  So now it's really time to book a sesh, which I will most likely do in March with this dude: www.dpheadshots.com

2.  I have convinced myself that a 401 class has yet to present itself on the UCB Training Center message board to date because the universe wants me to wait and pay for it with part of my tax return when I receive it in the next few weeks.  And in the meantime while most of the country is super amped aboot football this weekend, I have a supersized dose of musical improv I'm in the middle of: a show and a town hall meeting at the Magnet last night, a class 6:30 - 9:30 tonight, and a practice group tomorrow.

3.  I have exercised immense control and refrained from tweeting or blogging about my most recent mis-match, but where at this point, after two weeks I think it's safe to assume we're out of the googling-me window with this one, I want to caution that a bad sign for date four was that I couldn't wait to go to bed that night at home alone so I could wake up and weigh myself in the morning because I was fairly confident I had lost two pounds that week.

4.  I had dinner for my sorellina's 21st in Boston last Wednesday and an older cousin actually said to me, "how 'bout if instead of going to California, you get married."  And he was dead serious about the suggestion.

And my poor parents saw how that fueled my fire and were speechless.  And we all literally had to just let the comment lie there for a minute.  Until I responded finally, with a thoughtful, considerate, appreciative and genuine, "nah."

Why I go...

Tonight as I headed down to 10 on the Park for my alumni donor reception in my "business attire," I wondered why it is I go to these events BC lures me back into my college bubble with.

Most likely it was my mother saying on the phone moments before I braced the bitter cold, "ooh alright, go have fun, and maybe you'll find yourself a rich BC guy while you're there," that caused me to worry the reason I go is subconsciously to try and reconnect with the illustrious Peter whenever I immerse myself in New York's network of eagle post-grads.  Did I mention three Decembers ago that he was making 6 figures when I met him in his mid twenties, me a mere 19?    Cause he was. 

But I realized, as I sat listening to the board members, who before encouraging us to partake in the open bar were ultimately asking us graduates for more money and our life long commitment ever to excel, that I go for the moments when I get chills - listening to the stories of BC grads whose lives were changed by their educations, whose hard work paid off, and whose contributions to their alma mater were paid forward and have led to more greatness than they ever could have imagined.

I go to see old friends.  And I go to see what new opportunities may present themselves as I mingle amongst the Manhattanites I knew on the Heights.

AND... voila.... what do you know?  I go open to serendipitous circumstances, three of which I wound up in this evening: 1.  running into a girl I was asked to audition for a Yoplait Yogurt spot with last night upon the conclusion of my commercial acting class, 2. learning that an acquaintance of mine is sitting on a premise for a rom com that is just begging to be penned by me and my writing partner and 3.  seeing a former UCB classmate of mine in passing on my way to the 1 train, having him offer to tie my shoes and knowing that he's one of the bright lights I'll be graduating to LA with in the year ahead....

I go because I count myself lucky to be amongst those called to be men & women for others.   And cause I may only give $5 - $25 every time a current student calls from the alumni relations office to request a donation, but I've got a lot to give.

LA v NY: Part I

L.A. gets in your pores.  New York gets in your blood.

You feel L.A. like that perfect first booster shot worth of sun that warms you all over one random day in mid March or on the afternoon of an ideally temperate marathon Monday and you crave it thereafter...summer can't come soon enough.

Whereas New York starts flowing through you like a drug you are convinced you simply cannot live without staying connected to, invested in, driven by, or pulsed through.

So there's that.

Each has this totally tactile existence.  And L.A.'s is shallower for sure - skin deep.  While New York's you swear you feel in the depths of your gut if not literally coursing through your veins.

But there's reason to really let yourself get wrapped up or swept away in/by/with both.

Here is from the BFF, ichatted to me last week while I was on the west coast:

http://thoughtcatalog.com/2012/the-10-major-differences-between-new-york-and-l-a/

Sassy Starts, San Francisco & Church of Saint Paul,

the Apostle.

2013 is here folks.  Friends.  (Mom, Mary, Mower, and the other 9 of you who regularly peruse these posts).

oh heyyyy, to the 83 or so readers who also happened upon this one.  I got myself a multiplyin' audience.  according to google's numbers anyway,

ANYWAY, I went to church today at St. Paul, the Apostle's.  Where I've gone the past few weeks now because they've got a 5:15 I catch (most of) on my way to Magnet Musical Improv Level 3 (don't miss my shows Saturday nights in February!!!!!), and St. P's is a good interim parish.  I did my two years going to Jazz Mass multiple times per month like I said I would early in 2011 and then I noticed I stopped making much mention of my church going until I literally posted about going to the chapel last Summer.

But then tonight's homily was all about TRANSFORMATIONS.  And I decided it needed to be acknowledged.  Because when in early 2011 I was on the way to beginning my transformation I was all church talk, and now here I am again two years later talking big changes and leaps and bounds and dreams being brought to life, so it stands to reason that I should clue peeps in (however non evangelically as I possibly can) as to how one of the things I got goin for me is this weekly visit I make to la chiesa closest to wherever I happen to be any given Sunday.

And mang, it's a helpful constant.

In fact, amen.  Not just and mang.

So yes - first scatter brained post of this otherwise highly focused new year, and my words of wisdom for the blogosphere are nothing other than my notes that 2013 is off to a sassy start thanks to my San Franciscan jaunt this past Wednesday - Friday and my search for a new home church closer to my new place on 97th being serendipitously still going.