Trains and Busses

It is almost the new year and I don't want to get too deep into what that means on a grand scale, or more, what that means to me on a personal level. There is a lot about the close of this year that I have not yet sorted out for myself. Maybe when I do I'll share some more. Or maybe not.

I have been having the most bizarre dreams lately. I thought it was just because I was at home and sleeping in themostcomfortablebedintheworld at my parent's house. They have like, two extra down mattress pads on the thing so it feels very princess and the pea. I have, in no particular order, in the past week dreamed about: panda bears, root canals, GI Jane exercise classes, video games, the marketing of tampons, and nearly every ex I can remember. None of them have been really bad dreams, except for one of the ex dreams. I don't write my dreams down (I know I should) so I don't remember the details with enough clarity to try and track down the symbolism at work with any of them.

The rest of the holiday weekend was peaceful and low key. On Monday we went into the city again, so I could follow through on the gift I was giving my parents which was to be tickets to a show. The selection on TKTS (hey remember, "starving artist" here) was much less exciting than it had been on the Friday I passed through town, and we ended up deciding on Doubt.

Cherry Jones would be leaving her role after the first week of the New Year, and my brother's girlfriend is preparing to do the role of the young nun in Europe, so for a number of reasons it seemed like a good idea.

And it was. It was an engaging, well acted, well staged, well designed play. It did not shake up my world, though it did keep us talking for a portion of the train ride back upstate. My friend arctic actor has a much stronger opinion regarding the siege of the one word titled plays in New York, most of which I agree with, and he says (writes) it with more careful thought and panache than I could.

It is a fine play. And sure, it won like, every award a play can win this past year. And it is a fine play. So, maybe there will not be a Death of a Salesman or Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf or Angels in America every year. Of course there won't be. And so the awards sometimes go to very fine plays.

It was a nice day in the city. I got a pair of boots at Loehman's (they were nowhere near even the Zappos price, trust me) which I am wearing today for the first time and very aware of the concept of modern day foot binding and corseting (heels! heels! heels!) But I love them so I'll learn to walk in them.

Judging by the brief bit of shopping we managed in the city, cowboy boots are very in this season. Chaps? Maybe not so much (natch, MB).

We ate mass produced chinese food at Ollie's as a tribute to my father's Jewish roots (the day after Christmas is not quite the same as the 25th, but we tried) and braved the wicked winds that whipped through the city streets.

Tuesday I headed back to DC. The trip felt long and bloated (train, train station, starbucks, bus station, bus, bus station) but I made it back just in time for a lovely dinner with my friends J and K and AP. We ate at Mama Ayesha's, which I have walked past hundreds of times during my four years in DC, but had never yet managed to venture inside. I've always been something of a loyalist to Lebanese Taverna (which I still love) so if I was going to do middle eastern food in Adams Morgan it was destined to be LT (or on the cheap, Amsterdam Falafel). Mama Ayesha's was a nice surprise. They have a funny waterfall fountain thing and rather over the top middle eastern decor but it was great food and equally great company.

I just started rehearsals for the fifteen minute musical I am doing in January. More on that, I am sure, is to come. But the important thing is, I am back, hopefully mentally as well as physically. It was nice to be home, but it is nice to be back (and really, isn't this home now?) though I do indeed miss the princess and the pea bed.