Exit Stage Left

So, there's another storm. It's not *as* bad as the last one, but it's bad enough that I'm in for the day and working from home (clearly). They keep saying that the storm is coming in in pieces and so the next "piece" is going to blast us this afternoon and evening. If I wanted to get out right now, I could, but I don't so why would I? We have yet to cancel performances this week, which is a good thing. I don't want to sound greedy,--though, I do work in marketing, so I guess I am--but the roads are passable, the buses and light rail are running, if you can't get to the show that's not my fault. I hate to sound heartless, because really I'm not; I am a lover of the theatre and if I held tickets to one of tonight's performances I'd be there, come hell or high water....er, snow. The alternative: it's the end of the year, donate your ticket back to the Center and get the tax deduction, it's all for a good cause.

Somehow during last week's blizzard I managed to settle down and start having fun with being stuck at home. Afterall, those are the kinds of days you wait for living here. When you are forced to stay in with only "blizzard food"-- food you never let yourself buy under any other circumstance (in my case Oreo's and Pillsbury Toaster Strudel)-- and enjoy the sanctity of home. Where all you can do is read or watch TV or surf the 'Net and you don't feel guilty about sitting on your ass for 12 hours in between the times you're sleeping. It's good fun and it doesn't happen enough. Somehow amidst the fear of losing electricity, or worrying that the roof was going to cave in, or wondering how the hell I would ever get my car out of the alley I settled in to my cozy home and began to love being snowbound. Getting back to reality wasn't so hard, because it was only one week day and then a four day holiday, but tonight as I got ready to go back to work: finishing laundry and attempting to tuck myself in early after watching the 10:00 news, I find myself anxious and nervous and yet somehow excited all over again.

It seems that after getting blasted with a mere two feet of snow last Wednesday and Thursday wasn't enough and so Mother Nature has decided to send another whopper of a storm in our direction. Nick Carter on 9 News is not comfortable predicting snow totals at this point, but another station is reporting accumulations in the 8"-12" range. That in and of itself might be bearable and not so bad, but that on top of what is currently on the ground could wind up being pretty rough. And so, tonight instead of sleeping I'm making a mental list of what provisions should be bought tomorrow at the grocery store in preparation for what just might be the "Great New Year's Blizzard of '07" and hoping the predictions are false. Couldn't we just save up this storm and have it in maybe March or April when there aren't free days off looming already?

I e-mailed the Director of Communications for the CSO this morning to ask her if there was anyway the soloists for Too Hot to Handel would make it in for either performance this weekend. She said it absolutely wasn't going to happen, but that they'd gotten great local fill-ins and the show would be as fantastic as ever. As my last post indicated I was disappointed, but still looking forward to the concert. So, you can imagine my absolute surprise and delight (to use a Starbucks buzz phrase) when the concert began and after the Concert Master took his place he was followed onto the stage by the one and only Lillias White. Not only was Lillias as fabulous as ever on the Soprano parts, but she filled in seamlessly for the missing Tenor, Thomas Young, reducing the concert hall to tears only to lift them up to the point where people leapt from their seats mid-performance. More Lillias singing, more Lillias to love. I can hardly wait for tomorrow night!

I wish I'd brought my dinosaur camera on my commute to the office today. The photos would be unbelievable. I hiked three blocks to the bus stop, thinking I'd be totally late to catch a bus that only comes once an hour. I guess I didn't realize that I'd have to be a trained mountain climber in order to get out of my neighborhood. I managed to get there in time to see the bus heading my direction. When I got off on the 16th Street Mall downtown most of the sidewalks were clear, but crossing the street was a nightmare. The snow was waist deep on every corner. It was barely manageable. I walked in the middle of the street for most of the way to the Center. There have been bulldozers filling dump trucks with snow on all the streets surrounding the Arts Complex this morning, trying to keep the streets and sidewalks clear. This is traditionally one of the busiest weekend's of the year in the Complex-- with 10,000 sold-out seats--I wonder how many people will be a no-show's.

The day has been harried and hectic. In total we canceled nine performances, equating to thousands of displaced patrons (and who knows, at this point, how many hundreds of thousands of dollars in lost revenue), angry that they can't come to see shows that were already sold-out. I can just imagine how bad it is for the airlines-- Frontier alone says the storm displaced 64,000 passengers. To make matters worse for us our phone lines keep going down and kicking people out of queue. It's a mess, but we're pulling through. The worst part is that I feel totally helpless. Due to the box office union I can't just jump on the phones and help out--it's awful.

To top it all off: my all-time favorite performance piece, Too Hot To Handel, performed by the Colorado Symphony Orchestra is tonight and tomorrow night. They usually do two to three performances of this piece each holiday season. I have been attending each and every performance for more than five years now. I cannot begin to express how much I love this symphony--it's simply my all-time favorite performance piece. I'd rather hear this symphony performed live than sit through any Broadway show I've ever seen; and that, my friends, is saying something. Unfortunately the three soloists scheduled are all out-of-towners and have been unable to get to Denver. Apparently they will be moving forward as scheduled with a local cast, but it simply will not be the same without Lillas and Thomas, quite simply two of the best vocalists I've ever heard. The silver lining is that Marin has been, and remains, in-town to conduct. Still, I've been waiting all year for this concert and I can't hide my own arts patron frustration and disappointment.

You can definitely tell it's the first day of winter here in Denver! The snow hasn't stopped in over 24 hours and it's supposed to keep on comin' until noon. We cancelled all performances again today--definitely a first.

I thought all you out-of-town'ers might like to see some photos.



This is the corner I live on. There's no traffic on the road today, as you might imagine. :)




I stepped out past my sidewalk to get the next shot and was suprised to find that in the areas I haven't shoveled the snow was up my thigh.



Facing South from the front of my house. It might be hard to believe, but we took turns shoveling the sidewalks all day yesterday--you certainly wouldn't know it now!

More pictures and updates to follow.

Being a grown-up and having a blizzard is not nearly as much fun as it is when you're younger. Even when we had the '03 blizzard it was fun because I didn't have to worry about anything. I was sort of over my job at the time, had friends around me and plenty of good junk food. I didn't mind that my car completely disappeared amongst the 32" of wet spring snow and I wasn't worried about trying to get my car un-stuck and and then driving on treacherous roads. I didn't worry about not having candles or flashlights or not having heat. I didn't worry that I'd run out of cat food or Diet Dr. Pepper. I was carefree and in it for the fun; much more childlike than I am this go-round.

The city (much of the state actually) woke up this morning to a much larger storm than I think anyone actually expected. It was predicted, we knew it was coming, but did we really *know* what it meant? This storm is a monster. It's churning counter-clockwise like a hurricane fueled by a ferocious 40-45 MPH Northerly wind. Constantly hitting the mountains and dumping on the I-25 corridor and the front range. It's blisteringly cold and the snow won't stop.

I talked to my boss at 8:30 this morning who instructed me to just work from home until further notice. We were supposed to have a show opening this evening and while initially we thought that the "show must go on" that all changed when the Governor declared a state of emergency. All four shows scheduled for this evening were cancelled: a feat that nobody remembers ever really happening before. I spent the day on my laptop worrrying about losing electicity, whether or not the roof on my house would stand the pressure of the snow and attempting to keep my sidewalk clear by shoveling every half an hour to an hour. Not exactly my idea of fun.

The snow is expected to continue falling at a rate of 1"-2" per hour until noon tomorrow. I don't see how it's at all possible that we'll be getting out and onto the roads in the morning. I think for now I'll go snuggle in for a long winter's nap and hope to stop dreaming of a "White Christmas;" I think that's a done deal at this point.

We never lived in any really big cities when I was growing up and for a few years in elementary school we lived six miles outside of Leadville, CO (itself a small town) on a couple of acres, across the highway from a small lake in a house where the view from our living room was of Mt. Elbert, the tallest mountain in Colorado. Mom never wanted to put up blinds or curtains because the view was too beautiful to cover up. The propane tank was in the backyard. It provided the energy for us to fuel our house, but for my brother and I it also offered an exam table of a certain sort. We'd climb up on the tank and conduct experiments of many different sorts, including, one time, the "dissection" of a dead mouse we found on the property, which had no doubt been caught by our "ferocious" orange tabby cat, Tiger. I tell this story in an attempt to prove that I'm not a girly girl. I considered myself a tomboy for much of my life, though I've softened a bit in my old age. I'm not squeamish, nor am I particularly bothered by most things others might find disturbing.

I got home pretty late tonight after some more shopping and came into the dark, cold house while on the phone with my mom. I dropped my bags and flipped on the light to see Linus crouched in the middle of the floor with something flopping on the floor near his mouth. I was distracted by Mom telling me about her Christmas shopping and then I realized what was going on and interrupted her with a quick, "oh my god. Oh My God. OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD!" in a steep crescendo when I realized that it was a mouse. Yes, folks, my skittish, yet inquisitive and playful cat had caught himself a mouse...in my house! When I first saw it the mouse was still alive and squirming on the floor. I was completely freaked out by the whole thing and didn't know what to do. I just kept screeching into the phone as Linus was still trying to play with the mouse. It was quite clear that the mouse was not going to make it. What do you do with a dead mouse? I finallly--with Mom's help-- got my wits about me and got the dead rodent (complete with Linus's teeth marks in its belly) into a plastic bag where it squealed every so quietly and then was silent. Then I walked it outside and threw it away.

I am shaking just writing this post as this was one of the most unpleasant things I've ever experienced. I'm worried that there are more mice and I don't know how to keep them from getting in. This house was built in 1908, it's old and decrepit and a quick search on Google tells me that an ordinary house mouse can fit through a hole that a pencil will fit in! There are holes all over this house, and I don't even know where they lead. I'm sure that poor little mouse just got cold tonight, as the temperature drops and the snow moves in. I bet he couldn't ever have imagined that the cat who's afraid of the phone ringing would ever be the cause of his demise.

R.I.P. little brown mouse. Way to go, Linus.

One of the things about Christmas that I've always liked is the cards. I've sent out Christmas cards for probably close to ten years and it used to be that it'd take me weeks to get them all written out, addressed and in the mail. I'd write personal notes to everyone, updating them on the past year and inquiring about theirs. I always use red or green ink and hand-write every note; no cheesy update letter here. I always order my cards from Unicef and they're not cheap (usually about $12 for a box of 10), but I like the sentiments they carry and I like that my money goes to a good organization. After this year I'm starting to rethink cards all-together.

This year I managed to get my cards in the mail in time for them to arrive at most desintations before the official holiday, but I wrote nothing aside from "Merry Christmas" (yes, I chose this greeting above the more P.C. "Happy Holidays") and a scrawl of my name. Of course, who'd really be interested to know that Linus got deathly ill in July but pulled through or that Millie is quite content to lounge 24/7 in front of the heat register or better yet that I work about 70 hours every week and write on my blog in an attempt to "do something new." You're right; nobody cares about that, and quite frankly I don't want to write about it. I used to send out more than 100 cards, carefully e-mailing everyone to make sure I had the correct address, but this year the final count was 29. 29. That's it. 29 people who I thought might like to hear from me. And, better yet, at least ten of those cards went to family members (or like-family members) with whom I never speak the rest of the year: namely my three cousins on my Dad's side, their parents and my Stepmom's family who I've not spoken to since I moved out of Dads house when I was 15. Sad. I'm not sure why I decided that they were finally worth the $.39 when I can't seem to convince myself of that the rest of the year. I'm pathetic.

In recent years, Christmas cards have also reminded me that I'm both old and a spinster. I know that because each January my refrigerator is cluttered with holiday photos of my dear friends and their spouses and children (are we even old enough to get married?!). I love getting the picture cards, but there's nothing that makes you feel more out of place than knowing that your friends have had a year interesting enough that it can be documented only by a photo (which, as you know, speaks a thousand words) and you can barely muster a "Merry Christmas."

Merry Christmas.

Several months ago after a rant on this blog about lacking topics my friend, Leslie, sent me an e-mail with a bunch of ideas. One of them was "how can we really support our troops?" I never intended to post on this topic, because, well, my opinion on that is complicated, but this evening as I was wrapping up gifts and sealing boxes with packing tape I was on the hunt for something to entertain me. I decided to watch my all-time favorite episode of "The West Wing": the Christmas show from the first season, "In Excelsis Deo." The central story of this episode surrounds a homeless Korean war veteran who dies from exposure near the Washington monument. Toby (by far my favorite character) is called because the veteran was wearing a coat he'd donated to Goodwill and his business card was in the pocket. Toby is apalled by the treatment of this true American hero, the winner of a purple heart. He sets out on a quest to find someone who knows this man and to make sure he's given a proper burial. After locating his brother (also a homeless Vet) and dropping some names (including the President's) Toby makes sure that this nameless, faceless man who lived the last days of his life without honor or dignity was treated in the reverse upon his death. I've seen this show at least two dozen times and it doesn't matter if I watch it at Christmastime or in June I cry everytime.

Tonight as I watched the show, wrapping presents for my family and tying ribbons around my "secret santa" gift for work my head was swimming with the thought of the thousands of American soldiers current serving away from their families, their friends and their lives. I realized that in 50 years they could be that vet ravaged by war, who dies, unknown, because they don't have a save place to sleep. While I don't believe that this war is right or justified I still support our troops who are overseas (and in this country) doing their jobs, whether they agree with it or not.

Never having been a "soldier" I don't know what we can do that would make them feel truly supported, but I hope that they know that we all: Democrats and Republicans, men, women and children, we ALL support and appreciate them everyday and want them to come home safely.

On that note, my mom sent me this link a couple weeks ago. I encourage you all to check it out and send a message to one of our service personnel abroad letting them know that you appreciate them, too.

About a year ago I heard someone at work talking about a show on TLC called "Little People Big World." It chronicles the life of a family of little people (well half of them are, anyway) living and working and raising their children on their farm in Oregon. Sounds like a pretty simple premise and I wondered how it could be *that* interesting, but I started watching it, nonetheless, and was pretty much hooked instantly. In this year of disappointing television shows I've found that it's the only show I pull off of Tivo in a timely fashion. At so many times I feel like I'm a part of the Roloff family.

In October I saw a story on one of the many websites I read daily that Jacob Roloff (the family's youngest member) was injured in an accident involving a trebuchet during pumpkin season. Since it's a reality show, there is a lag in shows hitting the air, so I knew it'd be awhile before we saw "that episode" and then the story got so much media attention that I wondered if they'd even show that as a part of the storyline, or if they'd gloss over it all-together.

Today there was a "Little People Big World" marathon followed by the season finale. At the end of the show they were teasing the new season with a two minute clip from the next episode. It was very dramatic camera work, crafty editing and that faint, haunting heartbeat in the background. Everyone who watches the show knew exactly what was coming next, because we all know about "the incident" and then it went to black and said "Coming Next March." MARCH?! You're going to make us wait 'til March to see a story about something that happened in October?! This is so distressing to me. The only two shows I watch anymore with any sort of regularity are both over for the season and I'm despressed. I guess I'll just need to get caught up on movies in time to win the big Oscar pool this year.

GOSH! I'm a such a slacker. I have so many things to say and so little time to say it. I *promise* regular updates will ensue once the work/holiday/family madness subsides.

Yes, folks, I'm still alive and breathing---I think. I apologize for not posting more regularly, I feel like I'm drowning in work. But, I can see the light at the end of the tunnel...except for all the Christmas shopping I have to do. I've made it my goal to do 100% of my shopping online, preferrably from my desk at work. Just kidding, of course, with the amount of work I've got to do and the millions of dollars we need to bring in this month, I doubt there'll be much shopping going on from my desk. I'm just thankful I generally despise this time of year and don't participate in much of the holiday hoopla that surrounds it; makes my life a little simpler... a little.

There is much happening this week some of which you all may be interested in hearing so I'll be sure to update as warranted and as time permits.

Thanks for your patience.