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the women of Beaver Theatre Co.


the reason for the season


So as I said yesterday, I’m a little stressed.

I might have have bitten off more than I could chew. The proverbial big bite.

Marie-Claire and I are doing a fundraiser on July 26 at 7 PM at COOL HAND OF A GIRL for our theatre company. And you are most definitely invited. Even if you live in California. And boy would you be my best friend if you took it upon yourself to drive from Cali to TO right about now. It takes about 7 days at a moderate pace. And I believe it can be fun. ‘Cause if you don’t have a 3 month old screaming in your backseat and if your entire apartment is not loaded into a grey Honda Civic (minus the Brita), then you are sure to have a blast.

Anyoooo.

So my stress. When I’m stressed I can’t formulate long thoughts.

The other day I was sitting on a log, breathing deep, when a woman passed by and asked if I was okay. I didn’t think much of it until a subsequent man walked by and offered me not one, but two bagels. That’s when it hit me. I look homeless. Am I homeless? I can’t remember right now.

No, I have a home. My hair is just mushy from the rain, and I have mascara running down my cheeks. No big deal.

Okay, back to work.

beach dance: everybody’s doing it


This is me letting off steam through beach dance. I’m a little stressed.

the wholesome me



I’m shooting a Campbell’s Soup commerical, because, apparently, I am just that wholesome.

I mean the guy auditioning with me (and by auditioning I mean holding out a red pepper all enthusiastic like) said: “You look wholesome. I would buy vegetables from you.”

Point proven. If the stranger says I look wholesome, then I just am.

Thank you, stranger, and thank you ad agency for seeing the wholesome me inside…me. Or the wholesome image I project. At least when I put on a plaid shirt and pick up a hoe.

I’m a farm worker in the commerical. Did I mention that part? Strong but with a gentle and familiar approach. A salt of the earth person. More comfortable outdoors than in, having worked with my hands my whole life. Basically how I have always perceived myself. Finally the world will see.

p.s. Other things that are wholesome:

Little House On The Prairie
Whole Wheat Wonder Bread (Simon’s contribution)
Beef stew and stew in general, assuming the chunks are big
Julie Andrews
Tidy side parts

And you? What is your wholesome? (Besides me of course.)

girl on phone


Elsie is really busy these days…confiscating my possessions with the word “MINE!”, crank calling all the nice people in my contacts list and turning over her juice with a lily-white (thank you, thesaurus, that just about sums it up) “UPSEE DAISY!” We call her imp girl. I think my mother might have coined the phrase.

Cue packing.

nut jobs?


“Sometimes I feel like crazy people live here,” says my sister looking at the whiteboard in the kitchen.

Currently it reads:

A GO train in the sky
A bird you go into

“Yeah, those are Simon’s and my descriptions of plane travel. Hardly crazy. Just another Elsie-teaching moment, sister. Don’t all good parents scribble teaching things…and possible blog content on whiteboards?”

“Crazy ones.”

“Now, more importantly, can you guess who said what?”

WHO SAID WHAT?

in summary: the bahamas


1. Charlie and Lola in the Bahamas. This cartoon, which Simon was smart enough to download, is our intermittent activity and the thing that saves us every time life gets hard. After each episode, Elsie yells, “More Lola!” Other things she yells: “My soother!” and “My blanket!” and “My chocolate!” and “My white bread!” and “My rum and coke!” Simple things.

2. Elsie dunking, jumping, back floating, and just generally being a super star in the water…in the Bahamas. This girl might just be the president of the United States one day. And I do mean the US, ’cause somehow that sounds cooler than doing the same job Stephen Harper pretends to do.

DSC_0008

3. The interesting couples in the Bahamas who stop to chat because we have a cute baby. Nobody actually cares about us, I’ve come to realize. It took me a while before I stopped pulling out my head shots and saying, “Hi, I’m the mother and and an actor. You need to know me,” and then breaking into a spontaneous monologue. But eventually I picked up the signals. Here’s what the couples do care about: Elsie’s age.

4. But I am a star in one respect…in the Bahamas. I found the sweet internet spot in the lobby. Here is my daily interaction with random people:

“How’s the connection?” “Great!” I say. They look perplexed, not understanding why everything is working out for me. Then I say, “Do you have a Mac or something else?” to which they reply, “Something else.” At which point they look away a little more despondent. At which point I feign sympathy, wink and say, “Bummer!”

Then I get back to vacation surfing, posting SO many blogs, and building my twitter connections. I think it’s been a very productive use of my holiday. Simon is very supportive, because he likes to dabble in his own vacation geek time: reading about Chlamydomonas. And obviously I knew how to spell that.

5. The big, big waves in the Bahamas. I have a routine, ’cause I’m particular. I dive under and then do some synchronized swimming leg lifts, one leg for each wave. It’s very fun and kind of aerobic. Then I look around for drunk people that might need saving.

6. Movies in the Bahamas. Last night we watched bits of Swordfish with John Travolta, Halle Berry and that really hot guy named Hugh Jackman…who I kept saying was really hot. Simon finally shut me up with “Halle Berry is also really hot.”

7. And guess what, we celebrated our 8th wedding anniversary in the Bahamas. Simon remembered and delivered with a beautiful delicate 18 karat necklace. I forgot but still delivered in my own winsome ways.

kindred spirits


She is so Daddy’s girl. They built sand castles together for many hours: well, he built; she destroyed. I watched and applauded from my lounge chair, sad book in hand (The Maytrees by Annie Dillard, not light beach reading, but inexplicably lovely and heart wrenching all the same). Then I went in to rescue a really drunk woman (we think) who had unceremoniously released one of her DDDD breasts into the ocean while flopping around like a crazy fish. People were laughing and staring, including me for a moment, because it was ‘spectacular.’ But her front floats started getting longer and longer, and the lifeguard in me had to act. Turns out she did want help (not for putting her breast back into her suit…which is fine), but for getting out of the water. She asked me if I was a nurse, where I was from (she guessed the East Coast), said thank you, then told me to fuck off. Literally. So I did.

daddy's girl

welcome to our lobby


Our hotel lobby is very nice, but not at all grand like the hotel next door, which is basically an opulent theme park called, ‘The Atlantis.’ Taylor Swift was playing there tonight. Simon and I tried really hard to get tickets. We even made posters and tried to barter our baby, but no one would budge.

lobby fun

the neurons retard


Today I sat in the lobby while person after person came in from their morning runs.

Not understanding how the people can drink that much just before bed and then get up and jog. In the very warm air.

i am not running

Let me ask Simon.

Or my new Bahamian friend, Cash.

Cash said he would help me with anything I needed (for five bucks) ’cause he likes Canadians.

Or I could ask my friend from the Mid-West, Tom. No, he probably couldn’t help me. I’ve seen his problem solving skills in action. He asked me all bewildered if they take the custom cards out of our hands on the plane. And that was just one way he posed the question. He asked it a number of different ways, saying he was just that kind of person to get caught up in a quandary. He was super charming, but I couldn’t help but think a little on the slow side. I suggested we meld our brain powers and try and figure out the answer. Here goes: if they took the custom cards out of our hands as we entered the Bahamas…at the airport, we can probably assume they will do the same when we get off the plane a second time.

Go team!

What can I say? I supervised a PhD.

Maybe it’s a man thing. Man brain + Bahama air = slow thoughts.

Lest you think I’m exaggerating, let me introduce you to Fernando, with whom I spent thirty mintues on the first night trying to establish an internet connection. (The Mac users have united over connection problems.) He kept saying, ‘Why? I just want to know why,’ and then running through the same six steps. I was kind of mesmerized by his odd commitment to solving this problem. And I didn’t want to hurt his man geek ego. But I knew he wasn’t going to fix it. So I downed an Amaretto Sour, twiddled my thumbs, and waited for him to give up, which he eventually did. His bafflement remained.

Hypothesis confirmed.

Okay, now I must go enjoy the beach. It will be hard, but I will try my darndest. Darndest.

By the way, Elsie is a fish. We dunk her under water and she comes up going, “I did it!” Onlookers are enamoured, and we beam. That’s kind of how it goes.