Exit Stage Left

It seems that coming up with topics about which to post on this blog is not the only thing that gives me writer's block.

At work I refer to myself not as an "idea man," that title is reserved for my brilliant co-worker, Jen, but as an "implementation person." You come up with the idea and I can most definitely figure out how to make it work, but the ideas for me are few and far between. A couple months ago as I was proofing something at work and a minor grammatical error turned into a brilliant (okay, maybe not brilliant) idea for the Center Attractions '07 season brochure. Everyone in the office really liked the idea and so we're running with it. Because it was my idea and because I'm constantly begging for added responsibility my boss agreed that I could oversee the production and creation of said brochure...including writing the copy. This is a stretch for me; I'm exercising parts of my brain that I haven't really had a chance to use in quite awhile. My creative side is out of shape, and boy is it showing.

Now, most of the Broadway shows provide us with copy for each individual show, so there's not much writing required there, but I did have to craft the cover copy, the letter to subscribers, the subscriber benefits and now the piece I'm struggling with: the "season overview." I'm just not sure how to get started. Should it be in the third person, or the second person? Should it just be a regurgitation of all the information that they already have, or something completely new and different? I'm just not sure which direction to go...and the clock's ticking and I've got NOTHING! I technically have another couple of days to get this done, but I've found that writing in the office is really difficult for me. Between the phone ringing, the radio, my co-workers... it's all just a little too much distraction for me. I've discovered during this process that it's much easier to do it at home, late at night, while watching Keith Olbermann.

I think I might need to give up for now and head to bed. There's a storm coming in from the East and it's bound to be good sleeping weather---sleeping is way easier than writing. *sigh*

I have a frightening affection for office supplies. When I first started at the DCPA and found out I was responsible for ordering office supplies for my department I was both excited and scared. I mean, I had a pretty large budget for these supplies and a horrible addiction to ordering them. I could, theoretically, get myself fired by ordering too many rollerball pens, post-it notes or binder clips. It's something I had to be very careful about.

When I was a little kid there was absolutely nothing I loved more than going shopping for school supplies--the smell of a brand new box of crayons is still one of my favorite scents. I loved getting the list from my teachers and wandering the aisles at Target picking out the wide ruled notebook paper, #2 pencils, markers and crayons. I even remember begging for and receiving a Trapper Keeper or two in my day. At one point in high school my parents had to place a ban on my buying any more pens. I had three or four shoe boxes FULL of pens; felt tip, ballpoint, rollerball...you name the cheap pen and I had it...in about six different colors of ink. Come to think of it, where are all my pens?

When I grew up and went to college, school supplies became even more exciting; not only did I get to buy the usual products, but I was actually forced to buy books--twist my arm! Buying the calendar and notebooks specific to each course and replacing the pencil case that would hold the various shades of pens which correlated to a specific task or subject was the highlight of the year, made better by the fact that I had a charge account at the campus bookstore...perhaps this was the first insight into my financially unstable future.

I bring all this up because I was in Target the other day and wandered through the seasonal school supply section. I nearly teared up watching all the kids with their brand-new backpacks filling them with three-ring binders, 10 packs of Papermate erasable pens, colored pencils, glue, round-tip scissors and pink erasers. I wound my way through the cardboard bins and the pint-sized school kids around me filling my hand-held basket with two two-packs of Sharpies (in both fine and ultra-fine tips), a $.50 composition book and a six-pack of .5 mm Bic disposable mechanical pencils. It's worth stating that I have pretty much no use for any of these items. I must own about 50 Sharpies and enough notebooks to put myself through grad school. And, as for pencils, as much as I love them they're pretty impractical for the grown-up "real world."

When I came home I stashed my new stuff in my desk, where I'm sure they'll remain for weeks (years?) on end and I pondered what my next move should be: hitting the mall for the back to school clothes, or applying for grad school. I've decided to forgo both options for now, but one of them will most certainly happen in the near future.

So, due to my cleaning frenzy last night I didn't get out of my PJ's until 6. But, who am I kidding? It's Saturday I probably wouldn't have anyway. I went out to run a few errands around 6:30 and as soon as I walked into a store I'd driven half an hour to find my cell phone rang. It was my sister, Joan, who was in complete hysterics. She was crying so hard she could hardly breathe and I could barely understand her. What I got from the conversation was that my brother-in-law, Mark, was bleeding from his mouth and on his way to the hospital in an ambulance. She said she needed me to meet her. No problem. I immediately turned around and left to come back up North.

Mark had surgery to help alleviate his severe sleep apnea about ten days ago. They removed his tonsils and adenoids, his uvula and part of his soft palette. Ordinarily a sleep apnea patient would get a CPAP machine, which helps control breathing during sleep, but Mark's was so severe the surgery was his only option. The doctor said that if he didn't take this seriously his life would be in jeopardy. So he had the surgery. It's rather intense, to be honest. He hasn't been able to eat much, can't cough, or clear his throat and has, to some extent, had to learn how to talk again. In the long run he'll be a lot better off, but this first couple of weeks are painful and challenging.

When I got to the hospital and finally found them in the ER I found Mark sitting up in bed with a basin of blood in front of him and my sister bawling hysterically beside him. It was almost grizzly to see that much blood and Mark looked terrible. Apparently what happened is pretty "common"; some blood clots had formed over the sutures where they took out his tonsils and one of them got knocked loose causing the bleeding to start. He was told to gargle with ice water, which should close up the vessels. We waited for awhile and the doctor came back and found another clot on the other side of his throat. Mark tried to knock it loose with the gargling, but had no luck. No luck with trying to suck it out either, so the doctor (who was AWESOME) reached in with a pair of forceps and pulled it out---it was quite gross, but also kind of cool. A few more minutes of an ice water gargle to close everything up and we were on our way. A rather anti-climatic ending to the evening, but that was a good thing in this instance.

I found out this evening that my Gramma is also in the hospital. They're not sure what's wrong with her, but I'll post an update after I go visit her tomorrow. She went in this morning and I didn't find out until I called my mom tonight, who's more than 1,000 miles away. I sure appreciate the fact that my family lets me know what's going on. That's just Grrrreat!

I've been meaning to clean my house for several weeks. Since I live by myself it takes awhile before it becomes unbearably disgusting, but it had definitely hit that point. Since I have company coming into town for the next two weekends this weekend was my only option to get this place presentable. And, since it's going to be over 100 both Saturday and Sunday I decided that I should get most of it done tonight. Now, I don't like cleaning (who does?), but I do find that once I get into it I get quite compulsive. I started cleaning around 9:15 or 9:30 this evening and I worked straight through until this moment, 2:37 a.m. Everything is done sans the Goodwill pile and my desk, which I figured I could do tomorrow without dying from heat exhastion. I'm tired, but I must admit... this place really does shine like the top of the Chrysler building. :)

No, I'm not using gay as an *abject* adjective, but recently I've begun to come to terms with the fact that I have a gay man's music collection. Okay, okay I'm totally stereotyping, maybe even unfairly, but go along with me on this.

I didn't get a CD of my own until I was 17. I remember it was the soundtrack to Mr. Holland's Opus (love that movie). Even if we go back a little further to the age of the cassette tape even then I liked movie tunes over anything else. I had all the Disney movies soundtracks and every now and then would supplement my collection with Tiffany or New Kids on the Block (NKOTB 4-ever). We should've known then how I'd turn out to be.

At work I'm known as "the girl who has all the show soundtracks"; you saw Bombay Dreams and want to hear "Shakalaka Baby" over and over again, I'm your girl. You saw that performance from The Drowsy Chaperone on the Tony's telecast, the corner office on the third floor is where you'll find me. I like to think it gives me a purpose in the land of the theatre geeks, but perhaps the part that people don't see is that I don't have these CD's to help me in my job (even though they do...help me in my job), I have them because I like them. I have them because they're pretty much the only kind of music I listen to with any sort of regularity. And, yes, I realize this makes me seem boring and perhaps a little strange, some people even think "closed minded"; I understand all of this, but I don't really care.

A couple weeks ago we were having a little get-together after work on the patio at the Garner Galleria bar and someone mentioned something about a showtune. I, of course, chimed in saying that I could pull out my iPod and play a little snippet for them, which they, of course, declined, because they're not like me, but it turned into a conversation about my extensive yet limited music collection. I don't have a massive collection of CD's, I can't even hold a candle to people like my friend Talia and her eclectic and EXPANSIVE collection, but if it's a showtune you desire and I'm around, a showtune you shall have. Anyway, I digress. In the course of the conversation it was determined by a majority of the people at the table that I just may have the "gay-est" collection of music owned by a single girl...even one who makes her career in the theatre. Afterall, when you have three versions of Annie and Chicago at your fingertips or can pull up some Elton John or Madonna on the spot you might as well be a drag queen, or so I'm told.

Could this possibly help to explain why I'm still single?

For reasons I don't feel particularly comfortable disclosing in a public forum, this has been a strange week. I've learned a lot, come to grips with a lot of things that have been troubling me and reached a conclusion of sorts on the next chapter in my life. It would seem that I have a plethora of topics on which to blog, but sadly that doesn't seem to be the case. I'm again at a loss for topics, so throw some more my way. Leslie, I'll post on some of your suggestions soon; when I've regained some brain power.

In the meantime I've begun carrying around a small notebook in which to jot down blog topics when they hit me (I have at least a dozen thoughts during the day, but when I get home I can't ever remember what they were). Hopefully I'll be more entertaining soon.

No, I'm not talking about "weed" and I'm not talking about "Weeds"--the brilliantly hilarious television show---I'm talking about those pesky green things that grow in your yard.

A little background: I moved into my mom's row house about 8 months ago, it comes complete with a tiny front yard and a back patio with flower beds as a trim, which, of course, I have no use for. I've never really been an outdoorsy person. It's not because I'm girly or a wimp, I just don't like it that much. I've always been more of a couch potato than the one growing the potatos, if you get my drift. So, anyway, since I moved into this house I have had a hard time adjusting to having a yard, even if mine is mostly bark chips and flagstone. The bane of my existence has become the various varieties of weeds that grow up in between the cracks in the flagstone, through the liner in my beautiful new bark lined "yard' and most particularly, the weeds that grow to be as tall as I am on the parking strip lining my side of the street.

The worst part of the weeds is that I don't even notice them. Sometimes I think to myself, "gosh, I haven't pulled weeds in awhile, there've got to be some comin' up" and invariably I'll look outside and nope, I don't see any weeds. Except they're really there, I just look past them, it's like I'm in denial about the weeds.

Tonight I was sitting here at my computer looking out the front door, enjoying the cool breeze produced from an imminent thunderstorm and something green caught my eye. Weeds. Dozens (hundreds?) of them. Coming out of every crack in the concrete, flagstone, coming up around my newly landscaped "yard." They were taking over. I had to get out there and pull them, thunderstorm, or not.

I went to the back yard to get the gloves and gardening shears out of the shed. I opened the door to the shed and I kid you not, folks, there was a weed who had grown up the door of the shed and blossomed out the top. This weed was at least 8 feet long...and I'm not exaggerating. I debated about taking a picture, but that seemed like a lot of work, and, after all, I had weeds to pull. I made it back to the front of the house and began pulling. Once I was out there and pulling, I swear there were weeds everywhere. My neighbors must be embarassed to live next to me "the girl who has weeds covering her yard" and, the worst part: I don't even notice them. When I finally got down to the weeds that were growing (probably still are) on the parking strip they were so entangled that I couldn't even figure out where they were coming from and once I did find the "root" of the problem I couldn't even cut through the stalks with the shears, let alone pull them.

An hour later I've successfully de-weeded the yard, managed to do so without injuring myself and I think I actually got all the weeds and didn't look through them, or over them. Now that the yard is weed-free and beautifully manicured I just simply don't understand how I can overlook the growth of green. Clearly I need someone to intervene, so, people, if you happen to drive by and see that the yard is looking a little green, please let me know. I clearly need help.

It's Saturday---the day of sloth. And, I'm being one.

My parents are both "technologically inclined." My dad's had his Sony CD player since 1982 (yeah, the first year they came out) and we got a VCR shortly thereafter. I think that VCR cost somewhere in the range of about $1,000 and we were one of the first people in our small mountain town who owned one. I think the reason we were spoiled with this luxury early in our lives is not because my mom is a gear-head (yes, she still is), but because she felt sorry for us. We lived six miles out of town in the highest incorporated city in the world. We had NO television reception and the weather was awful during the wintertime: cold and snowy, making it hard to do anything outdoors for any extended length of time. So, we got gadgets like an Atari and a ColecoVision and this contraption called a VCR to help the time pass more quickly.

I've always liked movies. As a child we collected the Disney classics and every Friday night we'd head to the local video store to rent them. I now have the luxury of digital cable to fulfill most of my TV watching needs. On a day such as this, where it's after 5 and I'm still in my PJ's I become amazed at the movies constantly being rerun on cable and my willingness to watch them over and over again, regardless of how many times I've seen them before. There are a handful of movies I've probably seen two dozen times and yet whenever they're on I'm right there watching them. There are a handful of movies where I almost feel as though I'm friends with the characters, where they almost become a part of my life when I see them on the screen. I know from studying mass communication that this is known as a psychosomatic relationship and for some people they can be extremely harmful. Yes, folks, this is how stalkers are created.

As I sit here watching You've Got Mail for the umpteenth time I find myself dreaming of the day where I'll live on the "liberal West Side" picking up MY Caramel Macchiato on the way to my super-cool job during a lovely fall day in the Big Apple and I have to wonder if there will ever be a point where I tire of the classics such as: Sleepless in Seattle, You've Got Mail, Dirty Dancing or Footloose? I can hardly imagine such a day will come and, in the meantime, I know I'll always have company on lonely, lazy Saturday afternoons.

Something sort of funny happened today. It struck me in such a way that I feel compelled to write about this again.

Last Friday night I saw PHAMALy's production of "The Wiz." I loved the show, of course, but who wouldn't? I posted about it on here thinking that my normal two readers would see it and perhaps go with me when I see it again on Monday's Industry Night. But, I got something I didn't bargain for. One of the PHAMALy company members, Kathleen, found my blog (how I don't know, because I have googled myself a gagillion times looking for my blog and I can't even find it), but she's pretty savvy, because she found it. :) Apparently she passed it along to some other company members, because it wasn't long before I got the e-mail alert that I had another new comment. It was from the darling Juliet Villa. There were both very gracious and thankful to me for posting my reactions to the show, which was awfully nice of them (and completely unnecessary). I'm wondering how many other members of the PHAMALy company found their way to my site today, because this morning when I checked my trusty counter from Cyber Counter shot up from 130 to 240 (only three of those are me checking it out myself).

At any rate, PHAMALy members: thanks for checking out the site; I love the show. And everyone else: GO SEE THE SHOW!

No, I'm not sick, I'm just not feeling that great. My lack of a post last night was, again, due to the heat and to the fact that, again, I'm lacking topics. This evening I shall blame it on my not feeling well, at all and my intense desire to go to bed. I've already taken a two hour nap and now, at 9:15 feel myself fading in such a way that I cannot imagine staying up any longer. So, stay tuned, hopefully something interesting will happen tomorrow about which I can post.

The official high temp today was 103 (at the airport). My car said 109 at one point today...and it's still 88. Too hot to think of something to write about, too hot to sit at the computer. Will post again tomorrow... it's supposed to be only 99.

I'm not a big fan of hot weather. I prefer blizzards to sun drenched skies and I prefer wool sweaters, socks and coats to tank tops, swimming suits and flip flops. I'm not a huge complainer about the heat, though I do make it known how little I think of it. I also think it's rather obscene that in a city where we have multiple 100 degree plus days a year air conditioning isn't more standard in homes.

The only times in my life where I've lived in the comfort of an air conditioned home is during the time I lived in the Midwest where not only does the heat scorch the earth, but where the humidity is suffocating. Many people who have not experienced the phenomenon that is Midwest humidity don't quite understand what I'm talking about. Now, I'm not discounting Northeast or Southern humidity, but midwest humid, is nothing to sneeze at. There you have to have air conditioning to be able to breathe at all. Humidity sucks. I know it and I'm grateful we don't have it here.

On the other hand, I get really upset (for lack of a better word) with the people who say things to me like, "I can handle the heat, it's the humidity that kills me." Having lived in both situations I won't argue with the fact that humidity is a killer, but dry heat is not a walk in the park either. Hot is hot and when it's 100+ degrees (as it has been here the past few days and no doubt will be for the few to come) it fucking sucks whether you've got the humidity, or not.

I bring this up, because as I sit here typing this post it is 12:30 am and still 78 degrees outside. A far cry from the 106 that registered in my car at one point today, but still far too warm for the middle of the night.

I would would like to be able to say that I'm now going to head off to get some sleep, but I know that this non-air conditioner owner will not be sleeping tonight. She'll be splayed out spread eagle on top of the covers, waiting patiently for the arrival of October.

PHAMALy (pronounced like Family) is a local theatre company, founded in 1989. The company name is an acronym standing for the Physically Handicapped Amateur Musical Actors League. The do one mainstage show per year, performed at the Denver Center's Space Theatre. I've seen three productions by this company, including tonight's opening performance of "The Wiz."

I love PHAMALy and beyond what they do for those with disabilities who perform both on and off stage; I love what they do for Denver and for the theatre, itself. Last year's production of "Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat" was inspired. They turned the tables on everything you thought that show was about. It was a sell-out--people clamoring for tickets--and beyond the audience recognition, the show was a critical success as well, named Best Musical of 2005 by the Denver Post . I expect the same may happen for this year's show.

I enjoy PHAMALy productions so much and am touched in such a way that I have a hard time describing it to others, writing about this one I doubt will prove things any other way. When I first went to see a PHAMALy production I, admittedly, had pretty low expectations. Not to sound too uncouth here, but these are people with challenges, right? What can they do on stage? I mean, could it possibly be that good? You have no idea.

"The Wiz" is a Rhythm and Blues reinvention of the classic tale of "The Wizard of Oz." The original production first opened on Broadway in 1975 where it ran for just over four years. In 1978 Sid Lumet's reimagination of the story hit the big screen starring none other than Diana Ross as Dorothy, Richard Pryor as the Wiz and, none other than Michael Jackson as the Scarecrow.

Having not been born when the show premiered on Broadway and having never seen the movie version of "The Wiz", and only having heard the music in snippets, I didn't really know what I was in for this evening. I figured, "oh yeah, Wizard of Oz, been there done that, like it, but c'mon." Yes, I forget: PHAMALy is different. The company is made up of folks with a variety of different challenges. The tagline for the show is"Lions and Tigers and wheelchairs...Oh my!" And "oh my" it definitely is.

The performances of all the characters, including: Scarecrow, Tinwoman, Lion, even the Wiz, himself were meritous, but Dorothy, the darling Juliet Villa, is certainly the stand-out. Her lovely voice rings out like a bell. You first think it might be shaky, but when she sings she has complete control of the range (and what a range she has), fluttering from one note to the next. I can't even describe it, she's simply: incredible. Oh, and did I mention that she's blind, led by her guide and loyal pooch, yeah, you got it, Toto (Dierdre). Lest you forget, everyone on the stage is a person with a disability, but forget you will when you watch this show. You will be blinded to this fact (no pun intended) because of the sheer talent that is emitted by every single company member and their dedication to "getting it right." You will be reminded of all that you've dreamt and all that you're capable. If you're me, you may even be reminded that sometimes a standing ovation really IS entirely appropriate, if not even demanded.

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The Wiz
Now--July 24; Friday and Saturday evenings at 7:30 p.m. and Sundays at 2:00 p.m. An additional performance will be held on Monday, July 24 at 7:30 p.m.

The Space Theatre in the Denver Performing Arts Complex

For tickets call 303.893.4100 or buy and print online at denvercenter.org

I'm not good with money. I'm the first to admit that. The funniest part of being a not-good-with-money-person is that I don't really have a lot of "stuff." I mean, sure, I have stuff. My house is full of stuff, but when I compare myself to my friends, I'm living fairly lean. I don't have a DVD collection numbering in the thousands, 5 million CD's of every different music genre, and I own exactly three pieces of furniture that I purchased from a store. Everything in my house is a hand-me-down of some sort; from the dishes in my cabinets to the 15 year old glasses, broken desks, sunken-in mattress and table with the peeling paint, everything once lived somewhere else. For the most part, I'm okay with having "used" stuff--I even kind of like it. The point is, I'm not quite sure how I turned into the near financial disaster that I have by not accumulating a lot of material possessions. I guess you could say I'm more of an experiences person. I'm the one who's always going somewhere or doing something. I'm the one who sees every show she desires as many times as she desires. I'm the one who'd rather take a trip than pay her rent---and has.

My mom tells me that part of the reason I struggle financially is because I put too much pressure on myself. That I see people at work who have nice houses full of Pottery Barn furniture and Crate and Barrel window decorations (and I do). These are the kind of people who take week-long cruises to Alaska and the Caribbean, who pay for their families to come for Christmas and Easter and who are seen at every major benefit gala and premiere event in the city. I think I have to have the same, do the same, be the same, but the simple fact is that I've only been gainfully employed for four years; I need to cut myself some slack and give myself some time to catch up to everyone around me. Perhaps she's right, but it's still tough to deal with at times.

The one thing I own, which is also the biggest liability, is my car. I'm fickle when it comes to cars. I tire of them quickly and always want a shiny, bright, new-car-smell kind of a car. I've had my current vehicle for about four years and it's about all I've been able to do lately to convince myself that getting a different car is not the smartest thing I could do. Sure, my payment is high, but it's nearly paid off. Should I not just keep it and drive a car with a $0 monthly obligation? I say, "yes" and that's why I think I've successfully convinced myself to hold off for awhile.

The point of all this is that I've spent the last three-ish hours analyzing my credit reports from the three big bureaus by visiting www.annualcreditreport.com. Colorado residents are legally entitled to a free report annually from each bureau, which I've rarely taken advantage of. I decided it was high time I whip myself into some financial shape and used these reports to get to know myself a little better. I've transferred balances from credit cards with obscenely high rates to ones with lower ones. I've paid bills to date and looked into refinancing my car to get a lower monthly payment. For the first time in years I feel motivated and positive about my financial future. I'm not sure where all this came from, why it suddenly bubbled to the surface, but it has and I'm ready to face the problem head-on and find solutions that make sense and cents.

My friend, Brandon, made me realize the other day that with a title for a blog like, "Exit Stage Left," I really HAVE to post about theatre-related things sometimes. I need to get a little more politics in there, too, but there's PLENTY o' time for that. So, in the upcoming days, weeks and months look for more posts relating to shows, plays and other entertainment-related projects. Afterall, it's not just my career, it's a hobby too. :)

***WARNING! By reading this entry you are likely to become so bored you pass out at your computer, possibly drooling on your keyboard and thus ruining it--read at your OWN risk!***

No, I'm not talking about rain again, I'm talking about something much more, um... Interesting?

I remember when I was in college we spent an entire class period in "Principles of Public Relations" talking about bottled water and what a growing business it had become in the past say 5 years. This was about 7 years ago and I'm impressed that I actually remember this, as it's likely the only thing I remember from most of my core classes, but I digress. Bottled water has become a big business in this country. Every time I turn around there's a new brand offering up its newest gimmick to get a piece of the American dollar. There are flavored waters, carbonated waters, spring waters, mineral waters...the list goes on and on. When I was in 10th grade I went on a band trip to Florida (this one time, at band camp...) and I wanted some water to take on the bus (yes, bus) with me. All I could find were half pints of Evian, at about six bucks a six pack--that's obscene when you're 15 years old. And, seriously... it's WATER. I digress again.

I'm a water drinker, always have been. I generally drink about a gallon a day, more when I worked at Starbucks (the water filtration systems at Starbucks generate the BEST water I've ever tasted, and it's consistent from store to store). I love water. Back in the day I carried bottle water with me wherever I went, but then I calculated how much money I was spending on said bottled water. Ohmigod! It was disturbing. I finally got hip to that right after graduating and moving to Denver and while my love of H2O has not faltered, I've gotten a bit smarter about how I drink it. Mainly, I refill reusable water bottles and carry them every where I go. I'm still never without my water, but I'm also never without my Nalgene bottle. Do you know how much money I've saved since giving up the store-bottled water? Seriously. It's probably more than I've saved by making coffee at home and avoiding Starbucks on the way to work. It's probably more than I've saved by having an assigned parking spot for the last year. It might even be more than I save by not having to pay full-fare to fly (thanks, Mike!). It's a LOT. There are occasions where a disposable bottle of water just makes sense, but under normal circumstances, how much money could YOU save by bottling your own?


***Okay, seriously, I can't believe I just typed an entire post about bottled water, but I was having a hard time coming up with a topic and I asked Talia and the first thing she said was "bottle water" and thus I was stuck...the post had to be written. Don't hate me, just leave me a comment with some ideas for posts.***

Contrary to a widely-held belief Denver is actually very sunny. In fact, we have an average of 300 sun-filled days per year, one of the highest in the United States. It's also very dry in Denver, another diversion from stereotype. Sure, we get snow, but we rarely, if ever, develop the gray-brown stale drifts that are common in the upper midwest and northeast. One scientist once described Denver as a "desert in the sky"--I like this analogy.

July is typically very hot and VERY dry and June is typically our wettest month. This year, however, has been a-typical. It got hot, VERY hot, early and we've really lacked substantial rainfall over the last couple of months, contributing to the drought and also to our extreme wildfire danger. July sucks. I hate the heat, more than anything, and even though it's a dry heat, it's stiffling. July is miserable. August is not much better. That's why the last week, or so, of on again off again rain and a dramatic decrease in temperatures makes Molly one happy girl.

I was out of town last weekend, but apparently Monday night featured a lightning and hail storm that caused widespread damage. Tuesday it rained most of the evening, putting a damper on many fireworks displays and Wednesday-Friday evening it rained inconsistently, with some blotchy sunshine here and there. The temps were still in the 80's, but offered a welcome respite from the upper 90's typical this time of year.

With Friday evening came the rain. It was raining and raining and raining and much cooler (70's), which continued into Saturday...and Sunday. By the time I went for my walk this evening I felt like I could possibly be in Seattle. It's wet, cool (50's) and simply delightful. Even though I slept for about 12 hours last night (don't ask) I can hardly wait to curl up in bed with the cool breeze blowing in through the open window. I've got to soak it while it lasts (no pun intended), NPR tells me that temperatures will reach near 100 by Wednesday. *Sigh*

I'm a know-it-all. I don't mean that literally, I mean it figuratively; I LOVE to believe that I know absolutely everything. I, of course, don't...know absolutely everything, but that doesn't stop me from trying.

At work I refer to my position as "the drip pan." I'm the person you come to when you have a question about just about anything. If I don't know the answer, I'll most certainly know who does. While I frequently complain about this fact or become resentful of my status in relation to my glue-that-holds-the-place-together position, I secretly really like it. Molly=know-it-all.

Aside from the fact that I like to know a lot of things, I actually do know a lot of things. I sort of have a freaky memory. For example, I remember dates really well. A skill that is useful quite regularly when trying to remember what dates a show played the Buell, or when it debuted on Broadway. If I don't know the answer to something I've got a good sense for what to Google to get the answer and can usually figure it out in less than two minutes. I have also cultivated my ability to remember obscure facts, crazy news stories or trivial tid-bits.

There is an online directory, like the Internet version of the phone book, known as Dex. They have a great ad campaign that features "Dex" as a balding, middle-aged, white man with an eyesight deficit. The campaign slogan: Dex knows. Because of my penchant for knowing answers to the most random questions, my office nickname has been designated "Dex." When my phone rings or there's a knock on the door followed by "Dexxx..." I know there's a question to follow, another chance for the know-it-all to rear its lovely head.

I'm sure that many of you out there (like two of you) are fans of "The Daily Show" with Jon Stewart, as am I, but does anyone watch or even know who Keith Olbermann is?

He's the radical host of "Countdown" with Keith Olbermann on MSNBC, host of one my new favorite shows.

As most everyone knows, I'm a media whore. I love all things media-related, though I've admittedly really moved away from reading newspapers in recent years. Keith Olbermann's take on the nation's top news stories are on par with my views, most of the time. He's bitingly funny with his tongue in cheek comments on President Bush and his Washington cohorts. He attacks "American Idol" contestants and Britney Spears' lifestyle with the same vorocity and ends each show in the stoic words of Edward R. Murrow, "good night and good luck." He also gives us a nightly tick of the days since the declaration of mission accomplished in Iraq. He's not shy about his love of sports or his disgust of how we're handling the war on terror and while you may disagree with either of these viewpoints, you sort of have to give him credit for getting out there and say what he thinks in relation to the days top stories without making any secret of his political leanings. At least when I tune-in I know what I'm going to get, just as I would when hitting up Fox News.

Because I'm an entertainment kind of a girl I particularly enjoy the show when Keith invites Michael Musto of the Village Voice to give his take on the top entertainment stories of the day. His sardonic sense of humor is worth far more than the price of admission and, luckily for us, he stops by quite frequently.

"Countdown" with Keith Olbermann airs nightly on MSNBC (Comcast channel 65) at 6 & 10 PM MST, and is rerun the following morning at 7 AM.

I've always had sort of a "thing" for older men. Now, that doesn't mean that I date older men, sleep with older men, or even approach older men (hello, do you know me at all?!), it simply means that there's something about "older" men that I find attractive. I'm just talking about Robert Redford old, not George Burns old. Okay, that was a bad reference, because he's dead, but you know what I mean.

I bring this up because I had a strange dream that featured a rather high-profile, MUCH older man and me in a semi-romantic way (and, no, I'm not going to tell you who it was, because it's sort of embarassing). It was that kind of dream that sort of sticks with you. The kind that when you wake up you say to yourself, "was that real? Or, did I just dream that?" The kind where you almost wish you could go back to sleep and find out what happens. When I finally "came to" and really woke up I realized that this semi-romantic (no, it wasn't dirty or even sexual) dream was sort of creepy and I wondered from where it stemmed. So, I visited dreammoods.com and looked up the meaning of "holding hands" with a "celebrity." From what I can figure out, I think the dream meant that I feel very connected to someone in my waking life that I'm idealizing into a person who resembles said celebrity. I still can't quite figure out who the person is that I'm "idealizing," but should I figure it out I'll be sure to let you know. To be clear, whatever the meaning, it was a weird dream and not something that I would ever think of in my waking life.

This brings up another interesting point. It seems as though I've been having increasingly strange dreams lately. Does anyone else ever have this problem? What's the deal?

Because of the generosity of Mary and her dear husband, Mike, I am lucky to have flight benefits on Frontier Airlines, which means I can fly wherever Frontier flies for just $55 roundtrip. When Mike first added me to his "list" about a year ago I vowed to travel somewhere once a month. While I haven't quite kept up that pace, I have done quite well and gone to some of my favorite places to visit. I still have quite a list to be checked-off, but I'm getting there.

Last November my Mom moved to Reno to take professorship at the University of Nevada. Because of her specialized field there aren't many schools that offer her the opportunity to teach, so I was thrilled for her, even if I wasn't thrilled with her new digs. I've been meaning to go see her ever since she moved, but San Diego, New York, Chicago and Washington, DC always seemed more interesting than Reno. A last-minute obsession with getting out of town for the holiday weekend set in on Friday and Reno seemed like a logical choice, plus I was banking on the fact that Mom might float me the 50 bucks to pay for my fare, seeing as how I'm perpetually broke these days. So I hopped a flight on Saturday from the foothills of the Rockies, to the foothills of the Sierras.

I'm not a big fan of Reno, by any stretch of the imagination, but for the first time I realized how very similar it is to Denver. Both are at a high elevation, but have desert-like climates, both are tucked at the foothills of monster mountain ranges, etc. Denver is definitely better than Reno (and way more fun), but I came to understand how one might enjoy a Reno-like lifestyle, not that I include myself among them.

Sunday was very low-key. I slept in late, ate breakfast and then went back to sleep for a nap (that's my kind of vacation). I finally got-up about 4:00 and dragged my ass into the shower so we could go grab some dinner and walk around downtown for awhile. We decided to walk through the three casinos that are connected to one another: The El Dorado, Silver Legacy and Circus Circus. At The El Dorado we sat down and each dumped about $3 into the nickel slots and then continued through. Mom was searching for the "Megabucks" slot machines. They're the ones that are linked statewide, so if you win the jackpot you win big (The jackpot this weekend was just under $12 million). We couldn't find it so we went down the street to the Cal-Neva and it was right inside the door. Mom walked around the bank of machines, choosing the one that she was sure would pay big. I decided while I was waiting for her that I could afford $6 so I dropped the change into the machine next to her. On my first "pull" I won $75--and thus paid for my airfare, and airport parking. I'd say that's not too bad... even if it is just beginners luck.

Monday we decided to go for a drive. I've been wanting to get back over to Stockton for quite awhile, having not been back for more than five years. After hitting up the bookstore at UOP
for a much-needed sticker for my car window (I had one, but gave it up when I got a new car, and that was almost four years ago) we had lunch at my favorite fast food restaurant, Jack in the Box (it's a guilty pleasure, okay) and dessert at the campus haunt, Tiger's Yogurt (I have dreams about this frozen yogurt, it's that good). It was so strange walking across campus again. Made even stranger by the fact that it was July 3 and completely desolate, I think we saw three other people the whole time we were there. The campus has changed: they've built new buildings and crosswalks and broken ground on some new athletic facilities; it seems like the school is "growing-up" just like the rest of us, I guess, but at the same time the ivy covered buildings and the rose garden seem untouched. It was a strange experience, even though I can't quite put my finger on why that is. It was a trip.

After we'd done what there was to do in Stockton we headed back East and over the mountains back to the biggest little city. Mom wanted to take Highway 50 (the loneliest highway in America). It's a beautiful drive, up through Placerville and along the winding roads through the Sierras. It literally traces portions of the shore of Lake Tahoe, one of the most beautiful places I've ever been, before descending the mountain range and dropping off into Nevada's capital, Carson City.

The trip overall was absolutely awesome. I can't remember a time in recent memory that was better, to be honest. I love all my journeys for different reasons, but something about this trip was special. Maybe it was the return to college and all that goes with that, maybe it was being with my Mom, maybe it was the spontaneity of it all. I don't know, but I do know that I can't wait to do it again.

Oh, and just in case you're wondering: the Jack in the Box was not kind to me today at weigh-in; I was up .8 pounds. Ah, well...the Sourdough Jack was totally worth it. :)

I am home from my jaunt to Reno and have mucho to report on, but because my flight left "the biggest little city in the world" at 6:40 a.m. I am also mucho tired and should get to bed so I can get some work done tomorrow. Stay tuned for all the dish on our day trip to Stockton and the drive by Tahoe.

I seem to lack any and all kinds of motivation on the weekend's. I roll out of bed late in the day, watch TV until mid-afternoon and then finally around 5, or so, I manage to get myself to the point where I can take a shower and run errands or do whatever else needs to be done around the house. It's not really an effective way to get anything done, but I guess somehow in my mind I've come to believe that after a week of work I deserve to have a day where I become slothenly...at least that's what I tell myself.

This Saturday is no different, though because my TV consumption today is consisting of this awesome special on the History channel about The Presidents I feel like I'm "learning" something and it's justified...again, I'll just keep telling myself that. But, today really is different, I really do need to get it in gear, because I'm heading out to Reno tonight to visit my mom for the weekend (Mike, if I haven't told you lately, thank you for the flight benefits, you make my heart happy) and will probably head into California for a day of driving and clearing my head. If I had any money I might spend some time in a casino, but because I'm eternally broke... well, I doubt that will happen, unless I do my usual of sitting at a nickel slot for hours on end with just $2. But, I digress.

I have a list of things to get done today before I leave, including: laundry, buying cat food, packing, looking at weather conditions and going to the bank. I need to leave for the airport no later than 7:00 tonight and I just got a call to join some friends for dinner at 5:30, so I really need to get a move-on... but we're only at Hoover and learning about "Black Tuesday"--how can I possibly get off the couch?