Someday I’ll be part of your world

The Little Mermaid has always held a special place in my heart.  Don’t ask me why, because I’m not entirely sure.  It was my favorite Disney movie growing up.  “Part of Your World” was MY SONG.  I even made up this whole backstory about Ariel’s mom and it became so ingrained in my brain that later I wondered where I’d heard it from.

I had a Little Mermaid outfit that I wore all the time.

My sixth birthday party had a whole Little Mermaid theme.  In addition to drawing mermaid chalk pictures (which I like to think are still there underneath the tile), we played Pin-the-Tail-on-the-Mermaid, Mom made a mermaid cake, and I opened presents on a Little Mermaid sheet that was placed in a corner of the unfinished gameroom.

I loved meeting Ariel on our family vacation to Disney World.  She commented that it looked like I loved water as much as she did (I’d been playing in the fountains outside her grotto).  It also made me super happy that her autograph included a few quickly scribbled fish!

For my final exam in choir freshman year (my first year in choir when I was still terrified to sing in front of people), I ended up singing “Part of Your World” and probably had a little too much fun with props.  I can’t remember now exactly what I used for all the gadgets, gizmos, whos-its, whats-its, thingamabobs, etc., but I know my friendship bracelet collection was involved somehow.

Anyway, all this to say… imagine my excitement upon learning that I’d have the chance to audition for a stage production of The Little Mermaid!

There’s a section of the audition form that asks, “Which parts would you like to be considered for?”  My response went something like, “Ariel (or really any mermaid, I just want to be a mermaid, please let me be a mermaid!)”

I thought my vocal audition on Saturday went well considering I could feel my voice trying to run away.  I felt fantastic about the dance auditions last night and was surprised how few tappers there were (tapping seagulls appear at the beginning of act two).  This afternoon, I was ecstatic to find out I got called back for the mersisters!  I celebrated on Facebook by posting, “YAY my childhood dream of being a mermaid / princess is still alive!!!”  The callbacks were super fun and I thoroughly enjoyed seeing (or hearing about) the impressed looks on the director’s face while we were singing.

And now… we wait.

Watch and you’ll see, someday I’ll be part of your world!

EDIT: I got the role offer email three days later.  I am officially a mermaid and a princess.

Pitch a tent

I used to go camping all the time.  Everything from local overnighters and weeks in national parks in our family tent to weekend Camp Fire campouts in rustic cabins with not much more than bunk beds.  In a way, it’s almost like I grew up outdoors.  To this day, nature is one of my biggest reminders of God’s presence.  Especially anything relating to the sky.  (Music is the other big one.)

It started early.

Between family vacations, Camp Fire campouts, and trips with the Couples Club that Mom and Dad belonged to, we probably went camping at least five times a year.  Camping produced some of my favorite childhood memories, including Dad’s bedtime stories.  I even had a “campout” in the backyard with all the girls in my class to celebrate our sixth grade graduation!

Camping trips gradually dwindled as time went on.  As far as I can remember, the last time we used our tent was summer of 2003 and the last time I stayed in a cabin was summer of 2012.  (Funnily enough, both occasions were Hurley family reunions.)  And I miss it.  I feel like camping is a part of my history that is slipping away and needs to be recaptured before it disappears forever.

So I’m planning to do something about it.

Due to a combination of perfect circumstances, I already have a few big vacations booked for 2017.  Why not go all out and make this a year of travel?  The big vacations include visiting my 50th state and using my passport for the first time, so most of my other plans are focused on the great state of Texas.  A mix of day trips and extended weekends for state parks (plenty of opportunities for nature and camping!), touring musicals in San Antonio or Dallas or Houston and doing other stuff too instead of driving there and back just for the show, touristy stuff in Austin that I never do because I live here, etc.  I really want to make this happen, so I guess I’m partly putting this out into the universe to keep myself accountable.  I’m also open to travel buddies if anyone would like to join me for a trip or two!

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Consider this fair warning that some of my blog posts over the next year might be a little intense in tents.

Those dancing feet

I don’t know exactly how it started…

My feet have a mind of their own.  They like to kick covers aside and make sure they’re free.  They can get wildly out of control when tickled (which they hate, by the way).  And they get their own Christmas presents.

Which obviously means they have to open the presents themselves.

The first time my feet tried to open a Christmas present, the rest of the family just laughed.  They probably thought my feet were kidding around and would quit partway through.  But my feet are determined.  Once they put their mind to something, they do it.  And they have fun in the process!

So imagine my feet’s excitement when they learned they’d get to tap in the ensemble of 42nd Street this summer!  To put this in perspective: of the previous twenty-one musicals I’d been in, my feet only tapped in two of them.  Most musicals are lucky if they get one tap number.  42nd Street has four.

But it doesn’t stop there.  42nd Street has a total of twelve dance numbers.  And there’s almost as much choreography backstage as onstage.  Of my eleven costume changes, three are quick changes of less than a minute.  Any “down time” during the show is spent either presetting or hanging up costumes.  No other show has left me so exhausted or made my entire body ache all over.  There were even a few rehearsals when I completely broke down in my car and had to wait until I stopped sobbing before I could drive home.

So why do it?  Why bother putting ourselves through all of this?

Because when it works… it’s magical.

Julian: Eyes shining like a kid at Christmas, dreaming of parties and opening nights, the tinsel and glitter of musical comedy.  Just look at yourself–a speck of dust on this stage, indistinguishable from the forty other specks of dust I put there!

Peggy: I know that, Mr. Marsh.  But put all those specks together, you have something alive and beautiful that can reach out to a thousand people we’ve never seen before.

Julian: Broadway dreams, Sawyer!  We’ve all had ’em!

Peggy: Well, I mean to hold on to mine, Mr. Marsh!

Julian: So did I.  Sweet dreams, kid.

Peggy: They are.  I’m a speck of dust in your show.

42nd Street runs through September 25 at the Georgetown Palace Theatre and tickets are available here!

Good night, baby

It’s tech week.  That means late night rehearsals with lots of added elements (lights, makeup, costumes, etc.) making our brains explode before we open on Friday.

This is how I feel right now.

Till then I’ll just get married vicariously

Two years ago today, I caught the bouquet at my cousin’s wedding.

I know that’s “supposed” to mean I’m next, but for a single gal about to turn thirty who has never been in a relationship, that’s kind of hard to believe.

My mom was 25 when she married my dad, so growing up I always assumed that was the normal age to get married and something would just magically happen by then.  Well obviously not.

I had my fair share of crushes over the years: classmates at school, boys I met at summer camp, acquaintances I hardly ever spoke to, the occasional celebrity, etc.  Most of them had no idea.  Of the few who knew, most didn’t feel the same way.  The one exception was Brian, who I met at summer camp the year I didn’t go to Camp Fire Resident Camp.  I was 12, he was 13, and I never saw him again after those two weeks.

Then junior year of high school happened, when I fell head over heels in love with one of my best friends.  Apparently my 17-year-old heart didn’t care that he had a girlfriend who went to another school.  I actually ended up telling him because I thought he needed to know, even though by that point he’d already figured it out months before.  We never “officially” went out, but I did get my first kisses that summer before he left for college.  (And that is the shortest possible version of my personal soap opera.)

There have been a few significant guys since then: friends in the Catholic community in college, castmates in musicals I’ve been in, etc.  (At one point there was a string of like ten shows in a row where I had a crush on someone else in the cast, haha.)  I got asked out on a date and had NO CLUE what I was doing.  I’ve gained a couple of brothers.  I joined catholicmatch.com for awhile and messaged back and forth with a few people, but ultimately I decided I was focusing on the wrong things and I let my subscription expire.

It’s hard to explain, but I believe God has a plan for me and I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be at this moment.  Experience has shown me that I can push myself much farther when other people are counting on me, which feels like the faintest suggestion that God might want me to be married someday so He can really teach me how to love through a husband and family.  On the other hand, I’m at peace with the fact that I might never marry.  Either way, it’s impossible to tell what the future holds.

Anyway, back to catching that bouquet…

A little less than a month afterwards, I was cast in Shrek the Musical as Mama Shrek / Tapping Rat / Ensemble.

As one of my roles in the ensemble, I got to wear a wedding dress.

And that’s enough for now.

I know my sister like I know my own mind

Today is my sister’s birthday, so I figured it was a good time for the previously mentioned sister post that will make her cry for at least a month.

Monica is two years, two months, and two weeks older than me.  Dad took these pictures at the hospital when she met me for the first time.

Sometimes I loved having a sister.  I always had someone to play with.

Sometimes I hated having a sister.  She knew exactly how to get on my nerves and she would not go away.  But she probably felt the same way about me, which might explain why we fought so much…  Like the time she slammed a door in my face and knocked out one of my teeth (it was already loose, but still).  Or the time I kicked her head into an air conditioning vent.  And of course the fights were always about the stupidest things.  When she left for college, I was delighted to discover that we got along much better once we didn’t have to live together anymore!

They say a picture is worth a thousand words, so here we go…

And a few more…

I wouldn’t want to live with her again, but I love that she’s always just a text or phone call away.  When you’ve known someone literally your whole life and shared so much together, you’re connected forever.

So HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MONICA!

(Now stop crying.)

The magic of books

I take full credit for being the first Harry Potter fan in my family.

I borrowed Sorcerer’s Stone from a friend at school in 7th grade and fell in love.  When we visited Granddad that Christmas I randomly wandered into a room, found Chamber of Secrets lying around, and immediately started reading it.  So then we had to go buy a copy of the first one because Monica hadn’t read it yet and obviously she couldn’t start the series with the second book.  She got hooked (you’re welcome), borrowed Prisoner of Azkaban from a friend at school that spring, and let me read it too.  Then we impatiently waited for the new book to be released that summer.

Annual family vacation, summer 2000.  Hot Springs, Arkansas.  I love this picture…

…but I did NOT want to get out of the car!  Goblet of Fire‘s release date was during our vacation, I’d managed to convince Mom to buy it at a store somewhere when we stopped for other things, and I had just found out that Ron had been taken as a hostage in the Second Task!

Even worse was when I had to be dragged away at pretty much any point from the Third Task on.  That might be okay when you’ve read it before and you already know what’s going to happen, but the first time?!?  Like when we checked into a small hotel with an attached restaurant and needed to eat dinner but I was in the middle of the graveyard!  That was not a pleasant meal, haha.  As soon as I could, I escaped back to the book.  My punishment?  No swimming.  Which was perfectly fine with me because who wants to swim anyway Harry is fighting Voldemort and what’s going to happen and how in the world is he going to get out of this one?!?

The rest of the family probably thought I was crazy.  But during our 2003 summer vacation while Mom was reading Order of the Phoenix for the first time (Monica and I insisted she read the books so often that she finally gave in), she got so caught up that when she pulled herself back to the “real world” for her navigation duties she didn’t know what state we were in!

To prepare for the epic finale, we read the entire series out loud in the summer of 2007.  So much FUN!  Usually just one chapter a night, Mom and Monica and I taking turns as the narrator, pausing occasionally to discuss our theories for the seventh book.  (We were somewhere in Half-Blood Prince at the beginning of July, so Monica sped through on her own and was ready for Deathly Hallows as soon as Amazon delivered it, rejoining our nightly reading sessions after she’d finished.)  When Harry hid his potions book, I made the comment that it wouldn’t surprise me if we’d seen other Horcruxes casually thrown in like the locket had been (I felt super smart for noticing its brief appearance in Order of the Phoenix), and I specifically mentioned the “tarnished tiara” and somehow Monica managed to keep a straight face!  Once we finished Half-Blood Prince, we took a break from reading out loud and I jumped straight into Deathly Hallows.  I read it twice on my own, Mom read it after me, and then we returned to our nightly reading sessions.  We finished reading it out loud in late August, just a few days before I headed back to Vandy for the hardest semester of my life (but that’s another story).

So happy birthday, Harry Potter!  Thanks for letting me grow up with you.  And thanks for still giving me something new every time I come back.

The memory floods in

Yesterday was DCI day!

On a Saturday in late July, the best drum corps in the country come together in San Antonio to compete in the DCI Southwestern Championship.  I got pulled into that world thanks to my years in colorguard and fell in love with it (I actually auditioned for Teal Sound in 2005 but ultimately decided not to march because it was my last summer at home before college).  Seeing all the different corps makes me super happy, but there’s something about this particular event that makes it even more special.  I get to watch all these amazing people and think…

“I marched on that field.”

Every time we turn onto 37 and I see the Alamodome rising in the distance, I’m instantly transported back in time to November 2003.  (Yesterday I even got a little teary.)  Junior year of high school, my first year in colorguard, and we made it all the way to the state marching band competition.

Swing flags at the end of “Bolero” (I’m in the middle of the loop)

I wrote so extensively about these events in my journal at the time that I don’t really have much else to say.

November 4, 2003

I will always remember today.

As we drove away last night, I turned around and stared at the Alamodome until it faded from sight, thinking, “Goodbye until next time.  Thanks for the memories.”

I’d stare out at the sea

This was a very foggy day at Acadia National Park in Maine in the summer of 2004 (Dad and I took a side trip while visiting colleges).  I had no idea he’d taken this picture until I found it in his boxes of slides.  And I love it.

Standing on the shore alone.

Staring out at the water.

Waiting for answers.

Trying to see into the distance through overwhelming fog, wondering what it was hiding.

Hands in my pockets holding onto the safe and familiar, knowing very soon I’d have to jump into that fog even if I still couldn’t see where it led.

At the same time, I remember feeling safe in the midst of all the uncertainty.

“Okay, I have no idea what’s coming.  But I’m here.  And right now that’s enough.”

I see a trophy held by me

Baton twirling contests were a huge part of my childhood.  My first one was December 3, 1994, only two days after my eye surgery (I had built-in red eyeshadow)!  My last one was eleven years ago yesterday.

Events included Basic Strut (32 counts of marching in a square), Parade Majorette (32 counts of twirling while marching in a square), Presentation (32 counts of twirling), Solo (a minute and a half of twirling), etc. and the music for all of them is permanently etched in my brain.  I started off just competing in Basic Strut, gradually adding more events over the years until I was competing in almost everything.  There was also the option of “ratings” where you could do routines for judges’ feedback without actually competing.

The trophy in the middle is one of my favorites.  Novice Basic Strut, January 1995.  My first first-place!  The other smaller ones are ratings trophies.

Competition groups were determined by event, level, and age group.  Level was determined by number of first place wins in that particular event.  Over ten years I had a total of 34 wins, qualifying me as advanced in one event (10+ wins), intermediate in two events (5+ wins), and beginner in four events (1+ wins).  Hooray!

There was generally one contest a month from December through July, and at two contests per year (“State” in May or June and “Nationals” in July) the winner in each group went on to compete against the winners in other age groups for a Grand Champion.  I wanted one so badly, but I didn’t get many chances to try because I didn’t win very often…

Then there was the time Monica and I competed together in Pairs.  I was ten and Monica was twelve, so we were actually around the same height haha.  Three pairs competed at State in May 1997, all in the same level and age group.  And WE WON!  We happily collected our first place trophies, not expecting anything more than that since there weren’t any other age groups… so it was with surprise and delight that we were also presented with a Grand Champion trophy!  We got another one at Nationals in July when we were the only pair to compete.

Eight years later as a senior in high school, those were still my only two Grand Champions and I was running out of time.  I won Basic Strut at State that year and figured it was my last shot at my very own Grand Champion… but it went to the winner two age groups below me (a friend from the same dance studio so I was super happy for her, while feeling devastated for myself).

Two months left until my absolute last chance.  I made an extra effort to practice on a regular basis before Nationals, waking up earlier than I normally would during summer so I could work on my more challenging tricks before it got too hot outside.  I entered events in multiple levels to give myself more chances (something I did occasionally anyway, but I really went all-out this time).

Beginner Parade Majorette.  There were two of us.  I dropped the cartwheel (my hardest trick) and she won.  Intermediate Parade Majorette.  There were three of us, including the girl who’d won beginner.  I CAUGHT EVERYTHING and I won!  Then I went on to try for the Grand Champion, competing against the same friend who’d beaten me for the Basic Strut Grand Champion at State.  I dropped a waist wrap (something stupid that I hardly ever dropped) and figured that was it…

BUT I WON!!!

Literally my last chance to win a Grand Champion, and I did it.

What a fabulous trophy to complete my collection from those ten years.