Window Full of Dusty Tic-Tacs

There is an unopened “Big Pack” of green apple Tic-Tacs on the far-most windowsill in our kitchen, and I’m relatively certain that it has been there since I moved into this apartment over a year ago. I have no idea from whence they appeared, and I have never moved them other than to wonder at how they may have gotten there.

Don’t get me wrong, I like artificial flavoring and sweet-smelling breath as much as the next kid; it’s just that those Tic-Tacs, in their unopened and rather dusty state, have taken on a talisman-like quality in my life. I somehow feel that if they were opened (or GOD FORBID consumed), everything that I have going for me here would collapse into a kajillion pieces.

Now, lest this turn into a blog entry about my neuroses, let me get one thing straight. I’m not someone who is compulsively neat, or needs her things to be in a specific order, or places things, label out, into cabinets. I’m one messy, disorganized, tornado of a tiny person, and the idea of “things in their proper place” has never really sat well with me. HOWEVER. I feel as though those Tic-Tacs, in their spider-webby little window, are somehow important, because there’s no way that things could go this right for a slob like me without the interference of something magical.

That said, I still have a hard time believing that I do what I love every day. And while that might sound like the trite back end of the advice your grandmother gave you as a teenager, it’s true for me. I’m living the proverbial dream. My life of costume design and intermittent retail in the Greater Boston Area is unfailingly invigorating, challenging, and exciting, and I am so very, very, open-handedly grateful to the people and establishments that make that possible.

Because I am so fulfilled, and because I am so constantly working on what makes me happy, I am ultimately suspicious of the world that I live in. There MUST be trolls in the Orange Line, unicorns in the wooded areas of the Public Garden, and talking squirrels in Davis Square, because there’s an enchanted box of Tic-Tacs in my kitchen.

In all seriousness, I wake up most days and feel like a fraud, like someone earlier down the line got it all wrong, and none of this actually belongs to me. In a book I read recently, the author articulated that “the law of dreams [is to] keep moving”. This idea resonated with me because I have been feeling as though all of the opportunities I have been given are somehow unreal, yet in the concise way that dreams can sometimes be. Given that I am not dreaming, I am grateful to the world that lets me live this way. Given that I am, I had best keep moving, keep seeking opportunity, and keep allowing those ridiculously green breath mints to gather dust.

Doubleteaming

This is our life.  "Or," at Lyric Stage Company
Picture by Hannah Husband

Comfort Food

I don't know why, but I find it very soothing to come home and cook dinner, even after a week of tech.  I considered stopping for a burger on the way home, or ordering Chinese food -- but after six days of beige colored fast food eaten even faster than it is prepared, I was ready for 1) some color in my food. 2) some flavor.  So, I set to work in the kitchen.  Luckily, I cleaned all the dishes yesterday morning, so I didn't have to contend with a sink full of dirty dishes.

I rarely work from a recipe.  I know how to make a good deal of things -- it usually involves sauteed vegetables, a sauce of some kind, and a protein.  I've finally mastered white sauces, so I don't have to google it EVERY TIME.  Tonight, I made a dish I invented when I was thirteen.  Saueteed ground turkey with peas, over pasta, drowned in a white sauce.  I would make it every time my parents left me home alone for the night.  I decided to give it a little kick this time: I added Sriracha to the white sauce.

Exactly what I wanted.

I find that cooking with all four burners at once is a little like being backstage on a quick change show.  In fact, that's the show I am now working on: "Or," at The Lyric Stage Company.  I'm running wardrobe, and am in charge of getting all the quick changes to work.   Granted, there aren't as many as in some other plays - say, The Mystery of Irma Vepp.  But there are a couple that make my heart beat like I just finished a sprint.

One thing goes wrong and BAM, you've gotta pray that both you and the actor do the next one like nothing ever happened.  I have to make sure I prep every change.  Forgetting to do so would mean that we lose precious seconds.  I can't check out or walk away.  Kinda like using the entirety of the stove: lapse in judgement, and suddenly, my dinner is burned.

Ok.  It's a weak metaphor.  But I wanted to try.  Good news is, I didn't burn my dinner.  I'm settled into my second theater job.  I even got to eat dinner at the dining room table.  Because, of course, the silk is now in the kitchen.