tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4559060061877323652024-03-13T18:57:43.566-05:00Casey in LondonCasitareinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01169425387607052733noreply@blogger.comBlogger529125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-455906006187732365.post-14518462552335019722017-08-15T06:25:00.000-05:002017-08-15T06:25:00.566-05:00Edinburgh Fringe FestivalIn the mid-nineties my uncle went to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival and brought back amazing stories and an album by a feminist Australian performance art band that I proceeded to basically memorize. I was entranced. Six years ago my friend Kevin and I finally went to the festival and saw 21 shows in 5 day; an impressive feat. This time I had 56 hours and, like, a LOT of determination. My stretch goal was 15 shows, but I landed on 12 and that was amazing, exhilarating, expensive, and exhausting- so we're going to call it a win. <div>
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Here's what I saw in chronological order, because that's how I roll (and also how it is written down in my notebook) </div>
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<b>Harriet Braine, "Total Eclipse Of The Art" </b></div>
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My train was delayed so I had to book it from the station to this show. It was an excellent way to start off my fringe experience, a free show by a charming and adequate comic. Her schtick was art "lectures" done through parody song. My favorite was "Monet is not Manet" done to the tune of ABBA's "money money money" </div>
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<b>Liz Richardon, "Gutted"</b></div>
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A one woman show about having ulcerative colitis. She played a multitude of characters- nurses, friends, people in the hospital with her- but when it came to the characters closest to her (her mother, her husband) she invited people from the audience up, bribing them with beer and cakes, and had them read from greeting cards that had dialog written in to them. </div>
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The stage had several toilets and the floor was linoleum, easy to clean up. She kept pulling yogurts from the toilets and casually eating them or splurting them on the floor. At one point, during a voice over about uncontrollable bloody stool, she pulled out a full bottle of ketchup and a full bottle of brown sauce and proceeded to squeeze them out in a puddle on the floor and then wipe it all over herself. The stench and visceral grossness of that is nothing compared to what she actually experienced, and it was extraordinarily evocative. </div>
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At the end, speaking for herself for the first time instead of through a voice over, she said "I won't have anyone say anything bad about the NHS. Imagine putting a price on my quality of life." And I know I was the only American in the room because it was a small audience and we'd all gone up to read the greeting cards at one point or another. Also, I was the only person who started crying at that line. Because, yeah: <i>imagine. </i></div>
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<b>Aaron Twitchen, "Keep On Twitchen" </b></div>
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My friend Jonah and I didn't communicate clearly enough about what we were doing the first night I was in Edinburgh, so by the time we sorted it out the two shows he recommended had already been sold out. Jonah said I could choose whatever I wanted, which is how we ended up at a gay circus stand-up act! </div>
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There were moments of utter brilliance in the show, mostly when Aaron was upside down in aerial silks and casually still doing standard stand up fare. However he also tried to pull the whole show together with an emotional story that didn't quite land and sometimes would be on the ground doing mediocre stand up. Take your gimmick and run with it, please! </div>
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Aaron was a charming performer, and I think this show could have benefited from a director and a shorter running time. </div>
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<b>Gein's Family Giftshop: Volume 3</b></div>
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I had a ticket to a different show during this time, but I had just met Jonah's girlfriend Amy (so lovely!) and she wanted to go to this show, so we did! And I'm glad we did because it was great. Excellently acted sketch comedy, seamless transitions, deeply engaging stage presence, and an unexpected amount of nudity... </div>
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There were two actors who were crouched on the side of the stage for the <i>entire show, </i>only to be used briefly for one gag near the end when a shirt had gotten covered in goo- one of them leapt up, grabbed and replaced the shirt as though they were ball boys during Wimbledon. That was it. For an entire hour long show, crouching....I told them good job as we left the theater. </div>
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<b>Animalphabet</b></div>
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My friends Chris and Molly have a new baby named Joseph, so we all got together and went to a children's musical. We made bets before the show started about how many children would wander onto the stage over the course of the show, and I thought I was in with a chance with 4. Molly's friend won though with a dead-on accurate prediction of 6. So impressive! My favourite was the little red-headed toddler who made a break for it right before the final number- he ran ALL OVER the stage and was clearly <i>thrilled </i>with all of the attention. Cutie pie. </div>
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I think the fact that this entire section is about the children and not the show tells you everything you need to know about that. </div>
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<b>Theatre Re, "The Nature Of Forgetting</b></div>
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Physical theater/devised theater/dance piece about a 55 year old man with early on set dementia. Heartbreaking, beautiful, expertly done. The whole show was devised over two years and the music was done at the same time as the choreography, very clearly making a whole piece instead of components. Interesting stage work and costuming choices and so highly physical I genuinely don't know how the main character is surviving doing this show every day for a month. </div>
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I'd write more, but I found the whole thing very artistically inspiring and I haven't totally processed it yet. If you'd like to hear the soundtrack though, I have a copy! </div>
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<b>Max Dickins, "The Man On The Moor" </b></div>
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I was taking so many recommendations from people about shows to see that I'm really not sure how I got turned onto this show, but suffice to say I knew nothing about it going in. This was maybe a problem. </div>
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Solo show about a man whose father has been missing for twenty years. It took me until somewhere between half-way and two-thirds of the way through the show to realize that this was fictional and not the actor/writer's own experience. More power to him, it was very convincing, but then I felt betrayed. It turns out that I believe solo shows should be about the actor's personal experience, that somehow if you are the only person on the stage, you had better be telling <i>your </i>story. </div>
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Here's what I wrote in my notebook after the show about realizing this was fictionalized:<i> "I got..angry? Disappointed? I was so invested in this man's actual journey from heart broken inability to grieve because his father disappeared to someone who could make and perform this show - and then it turned out that that wasn't true. I'm sure it was high researched and "true" but it wasn't Max Dickin's story." </i></div>
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Also, I had gone immediately from a show about early on-set dementia to a show that reminded me viscerally of Austin, so afterwards I discovered just how challenging it is to find a concealed nook to cry in in Edinburgh during the fringe. </div>
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<b>Bec Hill: Out Of Order</b></div>
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Bec Hill is the kind of stand up that I would be honored to be considered with. She's delightful, clever, positive, silly, and makes flip chart pop up books that would have made me laugh and laugh if I wasn't already kind of broken by the previous shows I'd seen that day. That being said, I enjoyed the heck out of her and it was so pleasing to be at a show that was intentionally and explicitly designed to not only be positive during the show, but to carry that positivity out into the festival/world. </div>
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I followed this show by sitting in some grass and having some quiet time (I still had two more shows that day!) but accidentally went online and saw Trump threatening nuclear war. There may have been more crying. (I had a really wonderful time in Edinburgh, but also a really overwhelming time.) </div>
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<b>How To Win Against History</b></div>
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A musical about <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Henry_Paget,_5th_Marquess_of_Anglesey">Henry Cyril Paget</a>, played with wide eyed, enthusiastic, oblivious glee. I made friends with Barbara, the woman stood next to me in line, and we conspired to sit in the front row center and then talk about our experiences with the festival. She's been going for years and agrees that 4 is really the maximum number of shows you can see in one day and still function (this was my fifth of the day) The whole show was a sequined, glittery joy and I barked with laughter through the whole thing. (Such a relief!) My other seat neighbor whose name I've forgotten complimented me on my laugh after the show and I told her how six years ago I'd accidentally stopped show by laughing too loud and startling the comedians. </div>
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<b>Rose Matafeo: Sassy Best Friend</b></div>
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I met up with my first ever improv teacher (Alex), my best buddy from that class (Jonah), and my best buddy from the next series of improv classes (Chris) in the courtyard before this show. What a wonderful joy that was! <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Then I scampered off to go see Rose Matafeo, who is brilliant and a little baby in her early 20s. She'd make an excellent double header with Bec Hill; both charming, thoughtful, funny, fun, enthusiastic, insightful, explicitly intersectional comics. Her hour long set was tight and engaging and when she burst into song or dance the tech was dead on. I had a wonderful time. There was no crying. She had a label maker so I have a hot pink sticker now that says "CASEY COOL" in a crocodile. Because, sure. </div>
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<b>Juliana Capes, "Earthly Bodies" </b></div>
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Jules is friends with my friend Emma and she hooked me up with the AirBnB that I stayed in. I hadn't met her, so I made a point to go to Lady Stairs Close where she was making an installation of constellations found in littered chewing gum on the pavement. She's lovely and we talked a lot about created ritual and the belief implicit within that. </div>
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<b>"Bumper Blyton"</b></div>
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Jonah and Amy have a show creating improvised Enid Blyton books. It was very british and charming. I had a black currant lollipop handed to me at the beginning of the show, and enjoyed myself thoroughly. I was particularly taken with their show naming and suggestion taking conventions: for suggestions, the most annoying part of any improv show, they asked people in the queue to draw on note cards either something that didn't exist during the 1940s or a childhood nightmare. Then those cards were put into two dice that had clear pockets and rolled to choose. (We ended up with the Concorde jet, but all of the other faces of the "things that didn't exist in the 1940s" die were cell phones. Literally ALL OF THE OTHER PICTURES, which is amazing.) The title of the show started with one cast member saying a word in the title, then each additional cast member could move the existing words and add one of their own. It was a great little game and in this case caused "Cliff" to alternate in meaning between a rock face and a character's name. </div>
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Okay! That's it! Then I got on a train and went back to Penrith! Thanks for joining this rendition of "stuff Casey saw in Edinburgh!" </div>
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Casitareinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01169425387607052733noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-455906006187732365.post-63247935587977419622017-07-31T06:58:00.000-05:002017-07-31T09:55:24.151-05:00A Pictorial Piece About Visiting Old Friends<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Kelli, whom I have not seen in 15 years (since graduating from Interlochen), happened to have a 14 hour layover in London! We met up and had tea at Foyles bookshop. What a pleasure! <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_m5cxXEGr3s_MVemNG9xHexF1S4PqPZ0nGx2Yu2PbEczb4Oa7inN_qivJL3nFHo7wFtXyzWyJPwUO3VpbXDPNBpdOrzO2j3x1BcP7sOBgtDskfHf6jS1mn56aJBXUpM43dcWU8WHKn1I/s1600/IMG_20170725_060818560_TOP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_m5cxXEGr3s_MVemNG9xHexF1S4PqPZ0nGx2Yu2PbEczb4Oa7inN_qivJL3nFHo7wFtXyzWyJPwUO3VpbXDPNBpdOrzO2j3x1BcP7sOBgtDskfHf6jS1mn56aJBXUpM43dcWU8WHKn1I/s400/IMG_20170725_060818560_TOP.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Jon, who lives in Switzerland and whom I have not seen in...4 years? Was also in London! We *also* met at Foyles bookshop and then we walked to a park and chatted. Lovely!</div>
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Here we are 10 years ago! Accidental photo recreation...</div>
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Visiting Uncle Peter always means something interesting, in this case it was a bag full of old currency and trying to decipher the pre-decimal system. (Spoiler, IT MAKES NO SENSE! It *almost* makes sense right up until half a crown or florins (I don't remember which) and then it stops utterly. Hmph.)<br />
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This set of coins is equal to a pound. It is very heavy. This is ludicrous. So jangly.</div>
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"Lunch" with Peter lasted about 5 hours, which is exactly how it should be.<br />
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Hanna and I met up to talk about how she's *almost* a detective and how exciting that is! We encountered some performance art near London Bridge, and since I was there we obviously interacted with them. The woman in the middle is a clown playing a "blood bat" and collecting stories about blood. Once you contributed a story you were given a story back from someone who could donate blood to you- it was surprisingly affecting. </div>
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Josh and I got ice cream. My ice cream was covered in AN ENTIRE GIANT CANDY FLOSS (COTTON CANDY) and then topped with popping candy. It was genuinely impossible to eat, so I made friends with the family of the little girl you can see just behind me and shared. They're on a one week holiday from Baltimore where the father is a surgeon. Josh and I suggested museums for them to visit (gunning hard for the Geffrye!) and it was lovely. Also, then I didn't have to eat that giant cloud.<br />
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In Bristol, Emma and I decided to make a happy little face on the massive bruise on my arm that I *think* I acquired from carrying my VERY HEAVY SUITCASE FULL OF BELLS around in. We have titled this piece "Casey admiring her happy pain cloud on her art bruise" (you don't have to think that's funny, I think it's funny enough for the both of us!)</div>
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<br />Casitareinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01169425387607052733noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-455906006187732365.post-16687422088824855792017-07-23T18:29:00.002-05:002017-07-23T18:34:18.527-05:00Winchester Day, I totally stopped counting- this was a big weekendSomeone started describing Death & The Maiden as "summer camp for brainy goth girls" and that is Really Accurate.<br />
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Though levels of goth aesthetic varied widely, all of us had stories to tell about being weird in middle school (mine was about making felt hats and convincing stores to sell them when I was 11. It wasn't all death related weirdness.) We went down to Winchester Cathedral at one point to tour some of the monuments. The university and the cathedral are close enough to take a nice walk between, so we streamed down the hill and into town like a chatty, black clad river. Some folks with limited mobility took taxis, and when we arrived we found them by looking for "the other crowd of witchy women." I've never seen quite so much skeleton fashion as I have this weekend. I wore a lot of green.<br />
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Several presenters were freshly minted PhDs, and others have been professors for years already. Every single paper that was presented was fascinating and displayed a deep, deep knowledge of their topic, most were also explicitly intersectionally feminist. I'll write soon about my two favorite presentations, but I need to process them a bit more before I post about them. In the mean time, know that there are multiple women in the world who are using bio archaeology to fight the patriarchy and that's pretty darn cool.<br />
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Everyone was kind and friendly. I had incredible conversations at every meal- though sometimes my words got away from me and I suddenly discovered I had explained my entire Master's degree piece of a table full of people asking me insightful questions about my art. I didn't mean to dominate the conversation, I just Really Care About The Topic!<br />
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There were so many conversations that began with, "how did you get interested in death?" and that can't help but end up as a vulnerable, caring conversation. There are several people I intend to keep in touch with, and at least one that I've already invited to stay with me in Seattle. (ps. Death Salon is in September, just about a month away- there is overlap in the organizers of Death & The Maiden and Death Salon - they've organized TWO conferences within a month and a half of each other! I really hope they get to have some sleep in October...)<br />
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Eough procrastinating- let's talk about Bells.<br />
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For Whom The Bell Toils is a collection of (currently) 84 bells, all labeled with some type of work that occurs around the end of life. Participants are invited to ring the bells that resonate with their experience, and create new labels for types of work not yet honored by the piece. That's it. It's really simple.<br />
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I was nervous about For Whom The Bell Toils. I've been nervous about it. It's done and I'm still a little nervous about it. Here's the thing though, it is conceptually REALLY sound. (heh. puns.) I have <i>reasons</i> for things. A couple attending the conference helped me put the bells away and excitedly told me what they thought, interrupting each other to agree with more detail. They pointed out the piece's subtle feminism- none of the bells are gendered, and none of the work is *technically* gendered, though most of the work on the labels falls to women. So if you're a woman and you're ringing bell after bell after bell, it becomes clear how much you have done. And if you're a man who has not rung very many bells...well. That's something to think about, isn't it? Because as you read the labels you think about who, in your experience, did do the work- even if it wasn't something that you personally took care of.<br />
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Was that intentional? Yeah. Yeah it was. It's also why the labels are all hand written, because then they are a visual reminder of an individual's work.<br />
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Some people cried. Some people took the band of 16 water buffalo bridle bells labeled "mediated family conflict" and shook and shook and shook the whole thing. Some people read the labels with their hands behind their backs, lightly touching bells here and there. There are some videos on twitter if you search the hashtag #deathmaidenconf and I'll post some here soon.<br />
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The sound was beautiful, the concept is solid, the aesthetics...yeah, those could totally use some work. But this piece is ready to travel, and I'm going to be working on that next. So there we go. I'm really glad I came. 36.5lbs of bells and all.Casitareinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01169425387607052733noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-455906006187732365.post-68007227680832951672017-07-21T17:30:00.000-05:002017-07-21T17:30:09.733-05:00Winchester Day 2, Part 2 or "What an incredible batch of people"Look, it's a conference with Death and Feminism as its organizing principles, so I'm going to start with conference adjacent stuff first, because it's been a big day.<br />
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1. Dinner was delightful, I managed to sit at a table of mostly Americans who had done/are doing their advanced degrees in the UK. We all boisterously moaned about how utterly, impenetrably baffling the British higher education system is and how, when you get things wrong because no one ever told you what to do, <i>they </i>in turn are baffled because it's, "so obvious."<br />
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(I have quite a bit of residual anger about this...probably good to know about what for sorting through purposes.)<br />
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2. Did you know I'm Chatty? I'm So Chatty. Being So Chatty means that I had a lot of conversations that started with, "are you presenting?" (most people are) which then led to being asked the same in turn. Lots of people have no idea who I am, which is peachy, but what is astonishing is the people who DO know who I am. "Oh! You're For Whom The Bell Toils! I'm really looking forward to that! You have such a lovely website." (<i>Golly!</i>)<br />
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(It's just bells with labels on them! What if it's not very good or interesting and I've lugged 16.6kg/36.5lbs of metal halfway across the world for nothing????) (Breathing.)<br />
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3. There are some people who are <i>obviously </i>at a death conference- they're wearing beautifully knitted cardigans with skulls grinning from their backs, dresses covered in skeletons, top hats, petticoats, coffin earrings, etc. Then there's the rest of us, who run the gamut of aesthetics. I wore a black tank top and purple lipstick so I fit in just fine.<br />
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4. Very few things are as delightful as listening to people nerding out about very specific, technical topics and then discovering that they personally know each other's heroes and then watching stars burst out of their eyes.<br />
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5. I'm currently sitting in the lounge of the dormitory flat I'm staying in and the professor who co-organized this whole event is lovingly gossiping with pair of old, excellent friends. I'm *ABSOLUTELY* listening in and they're <i>hilarious</i>. Also, she just told me a harrowing story of being in Nepal with a bunch of students during the earthquake.Casitareinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01169425387607052733noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-455906006187732365.post-52939495546745848992017-07-21T06:00:00.001-05:002017-07-21T16:17:53.790-05:00Winchester Day 2, Part 1 or "Casey gets slap happy" I should apologise to the Winchester City of Commerce-- I think I somewhat misrepresented their offerings yesterday. I <i>should</i> have included mentions of their numerous wine shops, pottery shops, and the store that seemingly only sells very large wicker baskets. My bad.<br />
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You: Hi Casey! Have you been taking pictures in 'Jolly Ole England'? Haha.<br />
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Me: YES.<br />
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You: Oh! That certainly was emphatic! I bet there's a lot to take pictures of, huh? Lots of neat old buildings and picturesque scenery I imagine!<br />
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Me:<br />
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You: ...Um. Okay. Have you taken <i>many</i> pictures?<br />
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Me: ONE.<br />
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You:<br />
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Me:<br />
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You: Casey, this is getting weird. You're being really weird. Can we please see the picture you took. Stop it.<br />
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Me: <br />
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You: Really just thrilled we had this conversation. Thank you.<br />
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A fun thing to do in Winchester is play that age old game, <i>Medieval or Victorian Fan Art? </i><br />
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<b>REAL TALK</b>: I love the Itchen. I'm assuming the river is named because in the 1100s there was some virulent algae that prevented clothes from being comfortably washed in it. Currently it is clear, fast moving, and GLORIOUS. It's in a canal because apparently in 70AD they were like, "yo. This floods a lot. Let's make it a moat."<br />
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I have never so desperately wanted to dip my toes into a body of water before. But there are signs posted emphatically asking one not to do so in order to avoid a <span style="background-color: white; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">£</span>50 fine. (Is it worth it to me to spend <span style="background-color: white; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">£</span>50 to dip my toes in the Itchen? Stay tuned to find out!)<br />
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Here, I made you a video:<br />
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The Death & The Maiden Conference starts in 20 minutes. I'll probably have actual content soon.<br />
<br />Casitareinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01169425387607052733noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-455906006187732365.post-85384790979735875642017-07-20T08:51:00.001-05:002017-07-20T08:56:32.922-05:00Winchester Day 1, or "I think this town in inhabited entirely by teenagers" The coach ride from London was very juddery, but fortunately only an hour and a half. I was dropped off in front of a festive building advertising a bake sale for charity, so *of course* I went in, since that is what one <i>does</i>. It was tricky to get into the sale due to the three teenagers blocking the doorway. Once I made it in, it was clear that the sale was being run very incompetently by those same teenagers. I bought a terrible piece of cake for 50p and allowed them to get back to what was clearly the main purpose of the day; flirting.<br />
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I walked through the town, dragging my bells behind me and admiring the sheer number of awkward teenage buskers, all singing earnestly with their eyes closed. The 20 minute or so walk to the university was charming- lots of stone and brick buildings housing bridal shops and charity shops that also have wedding dresses. Also chemists. Not much else other than those three types of shops. I ended up at one point behind a mother pushing a stroller and trying to guide her daughter who was practicing being blind and giggling maniacally. (Everyone needs a hobby.) See? Charming.<br />
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One of the things I had forgotten about the UK is that while there are abundant public maps informing you of where you are and where you might be headed- the street signs are next to impossible to find. So I got a little bit turned around, but eventually found a pathway next to a bunch of blackberry bushes. A teenager informed me that I was, indeed, headed in the correct direction.<br />
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After being pushed to the side of the path by a herd of probably around 50 teenagers (most of whom looking at their phones and not at all where they were going-- it felt like being in the wildebeest stampede in The Lion King), I found the local graveyard and happened again upon the mother and her daughter.<br />
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Alice is three, has several fidget spinners, likes Miraculous Ladybug (a joint Korean/French anime), calls her little brother "Ed", and is my new best friend. Her mother, Leanne, is a librarian at the University and made sure that I was in the correct place. So now I'm here! Fully 24 hours early to the conference and stashed neatly away in a tiny, claustrophobic dorm room that makes me feel grateful for the fact that I do not regularly reside in one of these any more.<br />
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I'm off now to go look at the actual location of the conference, try to sort out what time it actually is, and find some delicious food. Go team!Casitareinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01169425387607052733noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-455906006187732365.post-40009757575265608412015-07-21T13:23:00.000-05:002017-07-20T08:51:44.206-05:00Back in London (briefly)It's strange being back- everything is at once familiar and far more alien than I had anticipated.<br />
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I have <b>not </b>been run over by a taxi! Yesterday I almost was, but today I've been chanting, "look right, look right, look right" and that has been helping.<br />
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This afternoon as I sleepily headed back to Holly's flat for supper I crossed the courtyard to St. Paul's and the bells began ringing. It was perfect.<br />
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My internal monologue has shifted to a British accent again which is making writing this post somewhat irritating. Casitareinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01169425387607052733noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-455906006187732365.post-32103523878288181112012-06-01T18:19:00.000-05:002012-06-01T18:20:56.890-05:00Life After LondonI've been back in the US for about 7 months now. And I've been trying to stay busy.<br />
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The biggest news, I think, is that I've launched my game/experience design company and website. Since I'm not posting on this blog any longer, please do take a look at the website for new information (there's even a big of a blog over there too!) <a href="http://www.caseworkproductions.com/">www.caseworkproductions.com</a><br />
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Casework is launching its first big, American based game on June 9th and 10th at<a href="http://figmentproject.org/"> Figment</a>, an interactive arts festival in NYC. The festival is a free, family friendly festival that has invited over 200 artists to create and bring something to the festival. <a href="http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/1664007720/tapestry-a-community-story-game">Tapestry</a>, the game I've designed, is prepared to have 2,000 players. (The festival is expecting over 30,000 people this year.)<br />
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The game is a community oriented, story collecting project. It involves arts and crafts, talking to new people, and grateful sharing.<br />
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When I was 16 I volunteered at Teen-Link, a crisis line for teenagers to call into and get a listening ear or helpful resources. We dealt with calls about sexual assault, homelessness, and familial abuse. You know, light and airy topics. It was tough and draining work, but also incredibly satisfying. I bring this up because when I was applying for the position and going through the extensive interview process I remember answering the question, "Why do you want to work here?" I thought for a moment and then said, "Well. I just really like hearing people's stories."<br />
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The stories that come out of Tapestry are nowhere near as heavy as some of the stories that I heard while volunteering at Teen Link. But some of them have a similar quality to them, "here- I don't know you, but you've just asked me for a story about love (or adventure or food or whatever), let me give you this honest little bit of myself." <br />
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The privilege and honor that I felt when entrusted with people's stories at Teen-Link is the same thing I feel when a profound story shows up in Tapestry. Sure, a lot of the stories are silly or throwaway, but some are heart breaking, and some make you light up, and some can <i>only </i>be responded to with a belly deep, "awwww"<br />
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So. That's Tapestry. And I'm raising money to fund the project (materials, transportation, snacks and water for my volunteer crew) through<a href="http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/1664007720/tapestry-a-community-story-game"> Kickstarter</a>. If you'd like to be involved (and I'd love it if you were!) please follow the link and pledge whatever you feel willing and able to. Even $5 helps! Thank you so much.<br />
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If you're in the Seattle area this Sunday (the 3rd) please stop by and play! At 1:30, I'll be running Tapestry in the field next to Wedgwood Presbyterian Church at 35th and 80th NECasitareinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01169425387607052733noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-455906006187732365.post-61295743308353013022011-11-08T10:47:00.000-05:002011-11-08T10:47:12.013-05:00Some Thoughts1. Things I'm not entirely sure how to pack include: a bowler hat.<br />
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2. Percentage of my floor I can currently see: 2%<br />
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3. My paper goods weigh disproportionately more than everything else I own combined. (But only as long as we're not counting the tree trunk I like to call a 'djembe.' Because it is a <i>tree trunk.</i>)<br />
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4. Why isn't my room packing itself? And paper work, why hasn't that been completed while I sleep? WHY,<br />
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5. If a pair of shoes are *perfect* for a number of outfits, but are also falling apart- do I bring them to Seattle because I want to look right or throw them out and figure I can buy a new pair when I get to the US? This is actually a serious question. Help. (Note, this applies to three pairs of shoes, all slightly different.)<br />
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6. I have sustained several mysterious injuries in the last week. The cut on my finger I remember, it was from brussels sprouts, but the cut on my thigh? Seriously, how did that happen without my noticing?<br />
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7. My improv group is doing a fundraising show for Make-a-Wish on Sunday. And I can't be there what with a continent and an ocean making that a difficult commute. So my head has been recorded on an iPhone and then using Dropbox has been transferred to an iPad from which I will issue the scene challenges. How high tech are we? I'm just annoyed the holographic pad won't be working yet. Lame.<br />
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8. Too many people to say goodbye to. So instead I'm hanging out on the internet. Productive!Casitareinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01169425387607052733noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-455906006187732365.post-84580426459947517582011-10-16T12:53:00.000-05:002011-10-16T12:53:15.382-05:00Schooner or LaterOn Thursday evening there was the last Sandpit of the year. The Haberdashery (sometimes formerly known as 'Casework,' formerly known as 'Capricious,' sometimes referred to as 'La Louche'), our new game design collective, ran 'Schooner or Later' (formerly 'The East India Company Game') again and it went really well.<br />
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Next time we're hoping for fewer name changes.<br />
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Do you remember how the game works?<br />
Let me remind you: It's a trading game based on the East India Company. Everyone has to give up their bags as collateral and in exchange are given the rental of a company boat (their hands, cupped together. We take their bags so that they don't have more carrying capacity.)<br />
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There are three countries involved in this particular trade triangle: India, China, and Great Britain.<br />
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Britain will buy most things at a very good price, but due to the trade monopoly agreement it has with the EIC, if you trade there you have to take British made goods with you- a whole heap of wool (cotton balls!). No one will buy the wool, but sometimes India and China can be persuaded to take some for a fee. Mostly it just fills up your boat.<br />
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India sells pepper (pepper corns!), and also grows opium. (balloons! hard to hide! easy to pop!)<br />
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China sells tea (tea bags) and will, angrily, accept opium. As a reward for getting the opium (un-popped balloon with your name on it) into China and helping to disrupt the economy and therefore drive down the price of tea, the EIC will give you a £200 bonus at the end of the game for each load of opium you smuggle into China.<br />
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Smugglers need to be wary of the roving coast guards, but above board traders have nothing to fear. All of this takes place in as wide and varied a playing area as we can manage to get. In this case? Most of the ground floor of the National Maritime Museum.<br />
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We had about 35 people playing and some of them made trade agreements with each other and convoys and official distraction people while others did the opium running. It was kind of great. One man in a tricornered hat (the whole evening was shipping themed) decided to collect the cotton wool balls and place them in his hat. I decided he was a floating "America" and secretly hoped he would start making crafts out of them to re-sell to England.<br />
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At one point, due to a mis-calculation by one of our port representatives, for £50 one of our players was sold *all the tea in China* <br />
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Excellent. Also, that's a ridiculous price.<br />
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Figuring out what to use for currency in the game was a challenge since last time a limiting factor was that there simply wasn't enough money. Turns out that plastic coins were prohibitively expensive in the quantities we needed, so the cheapest option (we weren't allowed to use food, so spray painted beans were out of the question) was pennies.<br />
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Do you know how heavy 2,000 pennies are? REALLY, REALLY HEAVY.<br />
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Fortunately Josh took them home. They're no longer my problem.<br />
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(ps. Do you know how weirdly bank tellers will look at you when you ask for £20 in pennies?? £13 cleared out one bank's supply, so I actually had to go to two different banks to get it all. "Do you want some 2p coins?" Nope.)<br />
(pps. Josh is threatening not to let me name games any more since the two the The Haberdashery put on at the NNM were named "Schooner or Later" and "Unlimited Port-ential" and that was 90% my fault.)Casitareinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01169425387607052733noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-455906006187732365.post-3466106320192080212011-09-30T17:58:00.001-05:002011-09-30T18:17:24.343-05:00Edinburgh Mini-reviews<i>In Edinburgh I had a notebook where I constantly wrote down things to remember. Here are a selection of my mini-reviews I wrote that week. I'm pretty sure these are in order of what we saw. I should also point out that I have typed verbatim what I wrote that week and so I make no promises about comprehensibility. </i><br />
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<b>“Answer Me This,” podcast book signing (free book fringe)</b><br />
Lovely and wonderful and kind of charmingly brilliant. We sat way in the front row and first they asked if anyone didn't know who they were. Egged on by Kevin, I raised my hand. They then proceeded to spend most of the show explaining asides to me, “festivals, they're these things that happen in the summer...” They also explained The Blitz, and Bovril. It was funny, and I'm not gonna lie, not always unhelpful. They were excellent at calling back to earlier jokes and were a delight to watch REALLY close up. The panel finished with Ollie singing to me his musical version of 'The Wanderer' that he'd made up in college to help him pass his English lit degree. I blushed. It was awesome. <br />
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<b>Ceilidh!</b><br />
Super fun sweaty excellence. Lots of older Scots in swingy kilts and a lovely and adorable German scientist with charmingly mismatched dancing parents who were in Scotland to visit her. The caller made a bunch of mildly racist comments. Stretching outside afterwards led to a drunken mooning by a Scotsman. His friends bundled him into a cab and waved as they drove away. End result? Total endorphin high and beer and nachos. Oh! And Greek Dancing! With a surprise bridge move! That was fun. Kevin and I are musicians and therefore had mad rhythm skillz.<br />
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<b>Interpretive Dances to My Diary (72% non-Fiction), devised show</b><br />
These guys come from Neo Futurists stock and it definitely shows. Short, choppy, punchy bits put together for something that felt complete. The show was small, intimate, and clever. It worked best when they were relaxed and interacting with the audience rather than doing their 'actor voices'. A charming bit about first kisses and an EXCELLENT recurring bit where they pulled 'and' sentences out of a fishbowl. “and...slow mo dance break.” or “and...when I said I loved you for the first time, it was an accident, not a mistake.” They seemed like my kind of people, but maybe a little more...actorly. Multi-media, good use of sound clips, lovely text animation, chopped carrots, and bright red jump suits. <br />
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<b>Music Box Impro, Improvised Musical</b><br />
We sat in the 3rd row or so after waiting a while in the onsite bar and falling a little in love with the venue. (It felt like a slumber party in a lot of ways.) Music Box had us chat to the people sat next to us to come up with locations for the musical- result? Zombie Pompeii. (“I've never seen anyone cross their fingers for a suggestion before!”) Supremely silly, spotty singing, excellent calling of mistakes, (“I'm very stupid.”) goofy song about how a zombie can't smell z-o-m-b-i-e, and a plan for zombies to run and international coffee cartel (“using zombies...to manage business!”). Dancing magma when Vesuvius blew up and a head zombie named...Boris? Wonderful lesbian busybodies. Good fun. <br />
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<b>Soldier and Death- Relief Theatre, Puppetry</b><br />
A Slavic tale of a soldier battling Death with magical items like cards that will never let you lose and a sack that will compel anything in to it. Small, wooden puppets and a young, thin cast. (Seriously, their belts were wrapping twice around some of them.) I kept wanting to call the production ernest, but that wasn't quite the right word. Kevin came up with “sincere” and that settled in just fine. It was a very sincere production. We chatted briefly afterwards and discovered that they're all students at Edinburgh Uni and this was their first time working with puppets. Charming more than excellent. <br />
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<b>Sarah Millican- Thoroughly Modern Millican, stand up</b><br />
Gosh she's cute. She's really really cute. She had a signer translating her show which was HILARIOUS- particularly when Sarah made her repeat things “I want to see what Katherine did for Tugging....” Mellifluous, mellow Geordie accent. An exercise bit where she wanted a video called “fat lass as a go” and its sequel, “fat lass tries again.” She talked about poo and called people 'flower.' Charming. <br />
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<b>Dave Gorman's Powerpoint Presentation, stand up </b><br />
Brilliant. Totally awesome and fabulous. First hour long show that didn't DRAG anywhere. And so funny! And cute! And clever! 10:08 is a happy time. Graphs about punching above his weight. And an epic explanation of how many many people think he is jewish. He made me love the internet more than I already do. Dave Gorman + Social Networking FTW (Rick Stavios)<br />
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<b>Lady Cariad's Characters, stand up </b><br />
Small, crowded, sweaty room that we snuck into after apologising to the Music Box folks for leaving them and not going to their show. They said it was okay since Lady Cariad was so good. And she was, I mean, fine. Cute characters and clearly enjoying herself. I enjoyed the parkour guy character the best, I think because he was the most clearly not her. Fun, but not the most amazing thing ever. Maybe suffering from the trouble that being immediately after Dave Gorman is? Lovely that we got squeezed in though. <br />
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<b>Picture Book Perfect, Children's book panel, book festival</b><br />
Viv! Yay Viv! I don't like book festivals, I want to be entertained, not told to buy more things. That being said, getting to know Viv has meant an incredible uptick in my interest in illustration. Especially in the process of making a book. Super cool. She and Levi were weirdly mismatched stylistically. Weirdly. Viv was simultaneously awkward and totally in control. She painted some emotional animals, a toddler bopped around with some purple headphones and an iPhone, Levi showed some gorgeous tempura paintings, and Kevin bought “There Are No Cats In This Book” after participating in the inaugural “reactions to Viv's books” video I made him make. She wanted to make a book personification of a cat. I think maybe she succeeded. Yay, concept books!<br />
<div><br />
</div><b>Give the Fig a Roll- Queen Mary Theatre Company</b><br />
<i>I hated this show, but apparently I didn't really get it- so here is someone else's<a href="http://www.blogger.com/@http://www.whatsonstage.com/reviews/theatre/edinburgh/E8831314033825/Give+The+Fig+A+Roll.html%22"> review</a>.</i><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
<b>Couch Impro, sketch improvisation</b><br />
Tired, a bit shaken from the Fig show and desperately hungry it was <u>so</u> excellent to be greeted, taken to the venue (which was warm and relatively quiet and filled with older, comfortable Brits drinking in a way that made you certain you'd be called 'pet' at some point) realising that I knew half the cast, having someone come up and say they'd seen <u>me</u> perform in London, well, I felt welcome and unclenched my muscles... Amazing that I went to the show based on the description in the guide. They were great- the best three headed expert I've seen, excellent calling of absurdity, a wonderful genre switching bit, and a lot of quick thinking. Using the audience's anonymous relationship problems as a starting point was a brilliant way to hang a short from show together. It totally <u>worked.</u> Then they asked it I was here with a a show. "Um...no." A woman named Silvia was my favourite.<br />
<br />
<b>Stream of Piffle, Taking the Piff, sketch show</b><br />
Was that mimed rape joke really necessary? I appreciated the big words and the Macbeth sketch was great, but having two women in your cast does not excuse you from misogyny.<br />
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<b>Beowulf, musical retelling of said epic poem</b><br />
I want to have made this. Barring that I am <u>delighted</u> to have seen it. We sat with one of the Ryans from "Interpretive dances of my diary" who recognised us in the queue. (The show was in a wooden music hall tent I played in at the Brighton Fringe when Latana sang Milhaud.) The acting was fabulous (Grendel and his mother were particularly riveting) they made extraordinary use of the space. SO well written and SO well sold. Wow. Just, wow. Beowulf was basically The Dude from Big Lebowski, the back up singers had PIPES, they did epic battles through thumb wrestling, I identified with Grendel's mother, the underwater fight with the buckets, the beer streaming down Grendel's shirt signifying his switch from narrator to monster, just wow, wow, wow. Kevin and I both want to work with them (horses and swords, horses and swords, horses and swords..and HORSES<i> ed. This is a song I've had periodically stuck in my head since we saw the show</i>) Oh! And the Old English Song at the end: I was annoyed with the academic character by that point, (glasses are awesome. Hmmph.) but then she sang the song (as the dragon) and Kevin is right, it was the sexiest thing ever. I was giddy at the end so while Kevin networked I made Grendel nervous and then hugged him. Not. Awkward. At. All.<br />
<br />
<b>Catie Wilkings: Chip off the odd block, stand up</b><br />
A small audience in a small venue. She was charming and middling. Excellent concept of anti-semantic jokes. She said we had brilliant laughs. Meh.<br />
<br />
<b>Prepare to Be Tuned: Anyone For Tennis? Musical comedy duo</b><br />
Not quite Flight of the Conchords but super cute songs- also, excellent random asides (the ghostly voice they just ignored, the penguin suit). Definitely worth <a href="http://www.youtube.com/user/AFTcomedy?blend=7&ob=5"> YouTubing</a>. God that was embarrassing when they were thrown by how loud our laughs were... (TIME PORTAL IN OUR LOUNGE <i>ed. this is a song that has been periodically stuck in Kevin's head since we saw the show.</i>)<br />
<br />
<b>Nina Conti, ventriloquist</b><br />
Ventriloquism! Wonderful ventriloquism. Foul mouthed monkey, poetic owl, prank calling grandma, and a roving accent. Nina is very good at cracking up- thereby totally holding the illusion while at the same time using the puppets' voices to point out that it is all just her. Good improv with the audience and the wonderful dancer at the end! How great was he?? Also, the clearly adulterous couple in the front row (dude! don't announce it!)<br />
<br />
<b>Constance and Sinestra, musical</b><br />
We checked the time more than once. The first time only halfway through the show. They clearly <b>really </b>liked Sweeney Todd and the space (site specific as it was) was good- but there were no characterisations, I couldn't sing you ANY snippets of any of the songs, they <u>told</u> everything and showed nothing, they killed a character in the least dramatic way possible, they didin't utilise the instruments and it was just so. damn. shouty. Stupid and boring. But the taxidermied mother had pipes.<br />
<br />
<b>Baby Wants Candy, improvised musical</b><br />
This wasn't our last show, but we're pretending it was. A whole musical about the festival, on the last night of the festival, made by people who've been at the whole festival, for people who've been working the festival. It was so cozy and familial and full of in-jokes with fabulous singing, a weirdly evil plot, and a pub full of Scotsmen all named Ewan. So much fun.Casitareinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01169425387607052733noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-455906006187732365.post-31755787513392294022011-09-26T03:44:00.000-05:002011-09-26T03:44:13.236-05:00Nov 10 at 2:35pmIs when my flight leaves from Heathrow.Casitareinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01169425387607052733noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-455906006187732365.post-2526771100335184482011-09-10T11:54:00.001-05:002011-09-10T12:21:06.230-05:00Baba Yaga- The Thank Yous.I'm sitting in the cafe of the V&A in a room designed by James Gamble, right directly next to the William Morris room and listening to a pianist improvise while I eat salmon and a pair of beautifully dressed salads. (They taste good, they're not wearing fascinators or anything like that. Oh, English and your myriad meanings.) A man is rocking a newborn baby in his arms near the piano and shushing him to sleep. What I'm saying here is that life is beautiful. <br />
<br />
Here's what else is beautiful: The number of people who popped up to help me get Baba Yaga made.<br />
<br />
Months ago I decided I wanted to make a maze out of yarn. Because it would be fun. I considered finding out how annoyed Ella would be if I made it in our living room, but never got further than musing. <br />
<br />
Then an email arrived asking for proposals from GSMD grads to use the Barbican Pit Theatre for week long research and development residencies for creative projects. A game, obviously was what I needed to suggest, but what? A thank you needs to go to Holly who pointed out that I could make my maze there, and then for nodding her head while I blathered on about the story that could go with it. “A comb. There are stories where a comb gets turned into a forest. And there's, like, a mirror? And that turns into a lake? But the maze- the maze could be a forest if we put leaves on it and stuff. Right? Validate me here. I need validation.” <br />
<br />
I wrote my application to use the Pit Theatre at midnight in a lovely old house in Fountainbleu. Gwen's mother Clare smiled at me as she went upstairs to sleep, “You'll get it done.” She said, knowingly. And I did, just barely in time. Impishly and groggily I decided to call my new venture Casework. Because naming things after yourself is totally not lame at all. (Gwyn insists on calling it “Caseytronics” which I kind of feel is fair enough.)<br />
<br />
Thrillingly and unexpectedly given that I had written the application on a whim- the Creative Learning department and the LAB project decided that I could use the theatre from September 5-9th.<br />
<br />
Crap.<br />
<br />
That meant that this was real and I actually had to figure out how to do this and fulfil what I said I was going to in the application. <br />
<br />
I did an appallingly poor job of getting my team together and, when I did finally contact them, I failed to give them enough information about what I was planning. Magically and mercifully Jonah trusted me on the basis of, “want to do a project with me? It's about Baba Yaga.” He kept texting me and pointing out that I should really tell him about this project he had agreed to do. Dave made a perfect drum line that exactly captured what I wanted for the witch almost instantly during our first, belated, meeting. Viv turned down work in order to keep her week clear. I can't thank them enough. <br />
<br />
Planning the maze and the game would have been impossible without the whole Fire-Hazard Pints & Planning crew who inundated me with examples of cool structures, suggestions of game mechanics, and generous offers to take a day off of work to help me build the maze. I sat at our table in the Pembury Arms with two notebooks in front of me and at least three smart phones being passed around with pictures of things that might work for the maze. Without them I still would have tried to make the maze out of yarn, which would have been lame and wouldn't have led to the purchase of 4 kilometres of cling film. <br />
<br />
Kevin showed up in the midst of all of this on a holiday to visit London, me, Ella, and the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. Points to him for arranging his vacation so that he could help with Baba Yaga. Things moved more smoothly because of his presence and excitement. Also, when I decided at half eleven one night to start building a maze in the hallway, (Not the living room Ella! This was even more disruptive!) Kevin was the one who started wrapping around the lines we had tied creating a tunnel that ended up being the main design element of the maze. <br />
<br />
Monday morning of this week I had somehow collected a team of four to start building the maze. The first thing we needed to do was place the scaffolding poles. It was at this point that I realized that I had very little clue about what I wanted this to look like. Adam, Jonah, Kevin and Viv were all very patient as I wandered more or less arbitrarily around the space shouting, “Here. And, um, here. Also there. Thank you!!” They were also patient when I managed to twist my ankle skipping excitedly down a step I hadn't realized was there. (This was, like, an hour into the whole process. Embarrassing.) <br />
<br />
At lunch Jonah invited his dancer friend Georgie to come and meet me. Thank goodness for that because without her we really didn't have a working game mechanic and she dances so beautifully. <br />
Pretty much the best firebird I could have asked for. <br />
<br />
As soon as the scaffolding went up, we started twisting rope with our hands and tying it onto the poles. This was how we spent about two thirds of Monday before Keith, the stage hand, quietly left the room and came back with a power drill he'd attached a hook onto. I'm not sure how much rope he managed to make before we noticed and realized that, um, that would A) Work B) Work better, and C) Mean that we weren't blistering our hands. Building the maze continued much faster after that. <br />
<br />
I don't think I can say enough about how helpful and gung-ho the staff at the Barbican were. Keith and Steve jumped right in and helped us build the maze. Steve in particular spent way more time than he was technically supposed to designing the lighting for the maze and just generally making himself invaluably useful.<br />
<br />
We learned to stretch the rope so it wouldn't twist up- walking backwards to pull and pull and pull. We learned how to keep the cling film taut when wrapping or creating a tooth. We learned that dropping a roll from a high height is not a terrible idea as long as one end it attached to something because it is so sticky that it takes a while to roll off itself and sometimes you even have to help it along. We learned that there's no sense in trying to talk in a room filled with people unwrapping cling film because it is So. Loud. (And I learned to tie a square knot and a half hitch, but everyone else already knew how to do that.) <br />
<br />
Day one ended and it felt like we had made a lot of progress. So off to the pub we went. <br />
<br />
Day two brought a different group of people (thanks Nick!) and started off with teaching the newbies the tricks of the material. We built and built and built and somewhere in there Viv decided to make the fire bird costume. She showed up on day three with a bag of fabric and feathers and a sewing machine. We built and built and built realising that the high stuff needed to be finished before we wrapped any more lower panels because otherwise we couldn't place the ladders. Weirdly, the more we built the less finished it became. By the end of day three I was panicking that we'd never get the maze done. Also, we'd run out of cling film which resulted in all of us using the wireless network on various devices trying to find a shop in London that would courier us another 750 metres of cling film. Somehow we found one and an hour or so later a taxi pulled up with three more rolls. <br />
<br />
You know. Just a day in the life.<br />
<br />
People came for a day or an hour to help us build and test (thank you Patrick and Ruth and Holly). Jo was the first to try going through the maze with the characters and the music, but Elena helped too and said it was one of the most terrifying things she'd ever done. Excellent. It was then that we realized that even if nothing more happened, we had something that worked. We also realized that we were dreaming in cling film. I mean that literally, I kept seeing the organic twisty shapes we were making in my sleep. <br />
<br />
At this point we're not even to the performance day. First we have to get through Thursday. At 5 (we we meant to be out by 6) the three of us who had been there the whole week (Viv, Jonah, and myself) started getting perfectionistic about the maze. I was going around with a pair of scissors taking the loose ends off of any and all knots I could reach. Viv kept wrapping more things and making sure pathways existed- noting which entrances let to the most direct and/or most convoluted passages. And Jonah got a bit compulsive about one of his tunnels. That night my father patiently dealt with me as I had a mini breakdown over skype; “so few people get to see it! And then it's all going to disappear!” I grieved, certain that this was a representative microcosm of my time in London.<br />
<br />
At one in the morning the day of the performance Elena, Viv, Jonah and I were still passing emails back and forth writing and re-writing the game instructions which were now made up of rhyming stanzas. (Each message ended with, “okay, off to sleep now!” but then someone else would respond and we'd all start emailing again.) Also that evening we finally figured out what sort of a gem we had on our hands. All of us sent off as many messages as we could to as wide a network as each of us possessed: “Yes, this is during a working day, but it's AMAZING. Please, please come- not for us, but for you. Don't miss this.”<br />
<br />
And so Friday took off. Viv showed up with beautiful instruction sheets she'd made that morning and sewed Georgie and I into our costumes. Elena volunteered to be the doorman, and then after the first round of players she and Adam decided that there needed to be an internet presence for the game- so they set up a <a href="http://babayagathegame.tumblr.com/">tumblr</a> account. Clare ferried people up and down the labyrinthine workings of the backstage of the Barbican. Steve brought in his camera and started taking quality photographs of the maze. Adam volunteered to make a video out of all of my time-lapse photographs. Jonah, Georgie, Dave, and Viv all cut their lunch short so we could film. Kevan and Emily both came back after they played and stuck around long enough to help us with the tear down. People were patient waiting for their turn. People tweeted and texted and emailed and our guest list grew DURING THE DAY. Jonah overheated and the paramedic wouldn't let us go on again for another forty minutes (“Just a plaster. Couldn't I just have a plaster?” Jonah said plaintively as the paramedic stuck a thermometer in his ear and took his blood pressure.) and still people waited their turn. My camera's memory filled up and other cameras appeared in my hands. Gwyn put all the digital files on to his computer. Elena set up a drop box for all the documents we'd created. The pile of positive feedback forms grew. People I hadn't seen in ages showed up and I glowed and felt so honoured and humbled by everything.<br />
<br />
It was magic. The whole experience was magic. Still is magic. <br />
<br />
God, I'm blessed.Casitareinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01169425387607052733noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-455906006187732365.post-78522216298092738742011-09-02T09:31:00.000-05:002011-09-02T09:31:59.726-05:00Edinburgh Bullet Points1. Dear Uncle Andy,<br />
<br />
Many years ago you went to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival and when you came back you brought exciting stories and an album of songs from an Australian performance art band that I can still sing most of due to the fact that I spent years listening to it too much. Because of you I have always wanted to go to the fringe.<br />
<br />
Thanks for planting that desire, I had a freaking amazing time.<br />
Love,<br />
Casey<br />
<br />
2. Kevin flew in from New York and then had two days to attempt to get over jet-lag and hang out with Ella before I put him on an overnight train up to Edinburgh. We arrived at 7:30 in the morning, climbed a giant, ridiculous hill, dropped off our bags and then got started. Because with something like the fringe it's better to jump right in rather than wade slowly. <br />
<br />
3. 24 shows in 5 days (22 each). We saw 1 scripted musical, 2 improvised musicals, 2 sketch comedy troupes, 1 “wtf was that??” devised play, 2 improv groups, 2 panel talks, 1 ceilidh, 7 stand up comics, 1 neo-futurist alumni show, 1 ventriloquist, 2 comedy bands, 1 puppet show, and best of all? 1 Folk musical version of Beowulf. God, that was good. (We not at all secretly both want to work with these people.)<br />
<br />
There were also 2 shows that we either forgot we'd bought tickets for or completely failed to accurately read the map for.<br />
<br />
4. Kevin and I turn out to be excellent travel partners with an almost uncanny ability to get really hungry and lose it at the same time. This might sound like a bad thing but was actually and sincerely wonderful because it meant that we'd get quiet and withdrawn (due to low blood sugar) at the same time and then fix that (by eating) and perk up at the same time. The only real difference is that I need, like, a sandwich in the morning and Kevin needs a giant coffee or three. <br />
<br />
5. Edinburgh is beautiful. Ridiculously rainy, but stunningly gorgeous. We kept catching our breath and sighing at how pretty it was. Bonus of all the rain? Numerous rainbows. <br />
<br />
So, so, so pretty. <br />
<br />
6. I kept running into people that I knew or had connections to. Walking into rooms or new venues or down a street and going, “Oh. Hi there.” <br />
<br />
The city was filled with my people, both figuratively and literally.<br />
<br />
7. The fringe is totally overwhelming. I had the catalogue sent to me beforehand and barely looked at it because it was so full of things. We arrived and I went through a period of panic because we were going to MISS things. Which, of course we were- we only had 5 days, things were already finished or finishing, there's only so many shows you can see in a day and only so many tickets you can afford. But the anxiety of missing something extraordinary took some getting used to. <br />
<br />
8. Best Decision I Made: Joining Friends of the Fringe. It cost £25 and meant I got the catalogue sent to me. I figured I was happy to support the festival and too lazy to find a catalogue in London, so I went for it. This turned out to be an accidental stroke of brilliance: the 2-for-1 ticket deals meant that the membership paid for itself, but the real jewel was the ticket hut. <br />
<br />
When buying tickets non-members have to stand in an epic queue that, because this is Edinburgh, is frequently soggy. Members, however, get to skip the queue and hang out in an adorable, dry little hut and take their own sweet time choosing what to see. <br />
<br />
At first I kept apologising for hemming and hawing and taking so long at the desks, but they kept pointing out that there were few or no other people waiting so it was totally cool. Best £25 of the festival. Highly recommended. Five stars. <br />
<br />
9. Flyering. We were there for the last five days of the festival, so a lot of people had festival fatigue. Not us, we were PERKY. Which endeared us greatly to the flyerers all over the city. There are SO many shows that lots of times the only way you hear about something or notice it is by being handed a flyer. Streets are covered in people trying desperately to get audience members for their shows. Kevin and I would go out of our way to get flyers and were always enthusiastic about taking them. We got profusely thanked for that a number of times...<br />
<br />
10. The festival is so large and full of so many different things that any number of different festival experiences can be had. Want to get drunk and heckle a lot? There's a festival for you. Want to see a lot of dance? Only stand up comedy? An entire run of musicals? Things that make you cry? Political drama? Children's theatre? Want to make a study of different uses of puppetry? There's a festival for all of those. <br />
<br />
After excellent and and appropriate-for-us shows Kevin and I would turn to each other and talk about how we had found our festival. <br />
<br />
D'awww. I'm in love with the fringe. Casitareinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01169425387607052733noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-455906006187732365.post-48724046516753473902011-09-02T05:48:00.001-05:002011-09-02T05:49:32.431-05:00Things I do with my time.<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">I've been collecting suitcases of games recently. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">That makes it sound like I am collecting ridiculous quantities of marbles or jacks or chess pieces or something like that. This is not at all what I mean. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">What I mean is that I have a suitcase full of The Fox Hunt (Hide & Seek), I have a suitcase full of Apocalypse Games (fire-hazard), and because at this point I've run out of wheely suitcases and a tank of helium is kind of hard to pack neatly in a bag: a pile of Baba Yaga (Casework).</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Oh, and I totally forgot I also have a bag full of The East India Company Game (Capricious) which desperately needs a new title and is just in a tote bag so is easy to forget. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">I spent yesterday working long into the night. (Must remember to <i>never</i><span style="font-style: normal;"> drink tea after 3pm. I can't handle my caffeine.) And while some of what I did was invite people to my events, get writing and emails done, sort out scheduling, have a meeting with some of my collaborators, etc. Another thing I did was cover my entire hallway in a cling film maze that blocked every single door to every single room (and the outside world) and inflate a single cow patterned helium balloon. </span> </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-style: normal;">May every night be as eventful. </span> </div>Casitareinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01169425387607052733noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-455906006187732365.post-75631947744666214602011-08-23T17:06:00.002-05:002011-08-24T05:04:09.028-05:00Fox. Pictures. Fox.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitcutrOvTlA68POxM2ko5F5jJroydIqfZGhXS6YQn1XMTkAsHAJSni1tsD-HpM35GDvqpC15HBYXUSptVUeg4l-5AsegbmlEg7RgLd5xVTzotbX6eTDMrkuJg69pbu3nazVl-m7w6r2Xo/s1600/DSCF1457.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitcutrOvTlA68POxM2ko5F5jJroydIqfZGhXS6YQn1XMTkAsHAJSni1tsD-HpM35GDvqpC15HBYXUSptVUeg4l-5AsegbmlEg7RgLd5xVTzotbX6eTDMrkuJg69pbu3nazVl-m7w6r2Xo/s320/DSCF1457.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Map of the Magical Fox Territory</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg82P5YeRJ1f_XaRPFh1dGXT15-RMPQZ7UT4h2Egf7yzcNaYfZxIyEViqqLiFJevprlZXQOT62HhGqO_ZmJG5l4a7XK5nwxAPSt0kUqjwnHcYyealjWKLsF3VwJDA6kB6keoZVTMklqTKY/s1600/DSCF1469.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg82P5YeRJ1f_XaRPFh1dGXT15-RMPQZ7UT4h2Egf7yzcNaYfZxIyEViqqLiFJevprlZXQOT62HhGqO_ZmJG5l4a7XK5nwxAPSt0kUqjwnHcYyealjWKLsF3VwJDA6kB6keoZVTMklqTKY/s320/DSCF1469.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fox Parkour!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFvOcgLAfqSPmqkGBamjw8wUQY3wdBAEciEOnfKyJi9vq8LQNxzo80T8oFjPITy-SzKKqB3L-e1ThcmtyLpZW1z3I-aA59P9TVURivSPi-rdISrXg4ULkzYU9DlBmk-NP-GoH3S_lDkew/s1600/DSCF1476.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFvOcgLAfqSPmqkGBamjw8wUQY3wdBAEciEOnfKyJi9vq8LQNxzo80T8oFjPITy-SzKKqB3L-e1ThcmtyLpZW1z3I-aA59P9TVURivSPi-rdISrXg4ULkzYU9DlBmk-NP-GoH3S_lDkew/s320/DSCF1476.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tom, our Fox Poo Man.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdUB61UE5RhRq0ZBgAJy0H7KxesrrLtUbymPa7IbSCMr047eB6mAq5LVv7K4JGmaWHz8kZA0rug1bGuVXZ0x0puhrY5k7YrASlPSvxWYPyyIieaKhC_RWWt2XfGXISBmDdyxqJCtHBFE8/s1600/DSCF1480.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdUB61UE5RhRq0ZBgAJy0H7KxesrrLtUbymPa7IbSCMr047eB6mAq5LVv7K4JGmaWHz8kZA0rug1bGuVXZ0x0puhrY5k7YrASlPSvxWYPyyIieaKhC_RWWt2XfGXISBmDdyxqJCtHBFE8/s320/DSCF1480.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Young Fox With A Rules Sheet</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXSE4e0fuYJmctTZsC0NSC8BODKSCwl4mE03DfpdBmIbNYnfPgvlEmu0hScklFCdSsCxk9IWcqEvoT2X9oMHpEq8UGekHtNxFJJAS2PP9nN9jEQ2YiJHO-M50hTrni6nvjd5XYi8kXY4E/s1600/DSCF1485.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXSE4e0fuYJmctTZsC0NSC8BODKSCwl4mE03DfpdBmIbNYnfPgvlEmu0hScklFCdSsCxk9IWcqEvoT2X9oMHpEq8UGekHtNxFJJAS2PP9nN9jEQ2YiJHO-M50hTrni6nvjd5XYi8kXY4E/s320/DSCF1485.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fox Tail Construction</td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4LhnnipdmykPcRhfEXSmq3gYxV92V8ZWUmtgDd-fY23YfDcdGtEuFb8hCAmd8CjSnHMD535SaZuUmzmNLSH-dE5oNjw5ZnNvOvsQzC3TmLH3HNROX5cg3s9tBdZE2rDBLQrbs2O6WGBk/s1600/DSCF1487.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4LhnnipdmykPcRhfEXSmq3gYxV92V8ZWUmtgDd-fY23YfDcdGtEuFb8hCAmd8CjSnHMD535SaZuUmzmNLSH-dE5oNjw5ZnNvOvsQzC3TmLH3HNROX5cg3s9tBdZE2rDBLQrbs2O6WGBk/s320/DSCF1487.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Talking To The Magical Fox! Oooooh.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>We played a fox game. It was a success. 52 kids played even though it rained heavily for half the time we had. I came home and passed out asleep.<br />
<br />
I should mention that the lovely fox costumes in the parkour photo and the one of the girl holding the information sheet came from The Fox Project, a charity devoted to helping and rehabilitating foxes in the area. If you want to go check them out they can be found <a href="http://www.blogger.com/www.foxproject.org.uk"> here. </a>Casitareinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01169425387607052733noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-455906006187732365.post-33455651009976030072011-08-23T14:08:00.000-05:002011-08-23T14:08:29.374-05:00I went to yoga.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLVaOtMWdd8aW1-zuk_LDc1llnoHhjGhfEiGr1dLWE7gdQF8LdTK1pjBMXdiSqNEk7B8wfTW045fYbTOXxyb7gYaTVD9XFv6bfz13diFnujnZJltuBkmHM7BEC_kbrt4CccjBBo3HJVfQ/s1600/boo+yah.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLVaOtMWdd8aW1-zuk_LDc1llnoHhjGhfEiGr1dLWE7gdQF8LdTK1pjBMXdiSqNEk7B8wfTW045fYbTOXxyb7gYaTVD9XFv6bfz13diFnujnZJltuBkmHM7BEC_kbrt4CccjBBo3HJVfQ/s1600/boo+yah.jpeg" /></a></div>I have never felt so much like a wet noodle. (This is not me. This is just what I did.)Casitareinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01169425387607052733noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-455906006187732365.post-20677840256760036762011-08-19T04:33:00.002-05:002011-08-19T05:46:07.882-05:00PromenadersLast week I went to four <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Promenade_Concerts">Proms</a> over the course of seven days. For those that don't know, the Proms are a series of concerts that happen every summer at the Royal Albert Hall in Kensington. They are truly epic with a concert happening every night, sometimes twice an evening and with afternoon concerts on Saturdays. Extraordinary music, extraordinary performances, and the chance to see people you wouldn't normally be able to for a totally reasonable price. (I can't tell you how bummed I am that I missed Steve Reich. Man.) The concerts are broadcast on BBC radio 3 and some of them are filmed for television as well.<br />
<br />
Royal Albert Hall is a giant tube of a building, and for the proms the centre circle of seats are taken out and the resulting flat floor space becomes the arena for standing room tickets that you queue up for and then pay £5 for on the day. The proms are named after the standing promenaders that fill up the arena. (Pronunciation Tip: promenAHders not promenAYders)<br />
<br />
Last Thursday Meredith played her first ever prom as part of one of her trials. Being the good and dutiful friend that I am, I agreed to come listen and stand for the duration of the concert. I arrived about half an hour before the concert, jumped into the little queue, paid my £5, wandered past a cellist warming up on the staircase ("Nowhere else to sit!") and then wandered back and forth trying to find the door to the hall (I expected it would be propped open, it wasn't. I felt more than a little stupid when I eventually figured out that just because the doors were closed, that didn't mean that they were locked...), up another small set of stairs and ta-dah! The arena.<br />
<br />
Royal Albert Hall is a little overpowering. Ornate and large and filled with people. I hunkered down in my chosen floor spot, but it wasn't long before I realised that I knew the man over there to the left with the little round glasses. Peter conducted the baroque ensemble that I performed with a bit last year and he is a lovely guy. He has a season ticket to the proms and shows up nearly every night over the summer.<br />
<br />
Season ticket holders have their own queue and have a guaranteed spot in the arcade as long as they show up at least 20 minutes before the show begins. This is significant when the lines are super long and wrap around the entire block since only about 1,000 people can fit in the arcade. (Or 700? I've heard conflicting accounts of the capacity.) Season ticket holders, it turns out, are their own special breed.<br />
<br />
When I went to Peabody my <i>favourite</i> game to play during audition week was, "guess the instrument." It worked best when they weren't carrying their instrument and you had to guess entirely based on looks and how they moved. (Best. Game. EVER.) Sometimes specific instruments were difficult to pick out (harp, flute, and singer have only subtle differences) but I had a 100% success rate with guessing the genre. Jazzers look significantly different to orchestral musicians, and early music geeks have distinctive hair. (I'm so not even kidding about that.) My point with all of this is that Peter claims you can pick out Season Ticket holders. (More or less, some of them are tough if they work in offices and have to wear a suit.) That being said, if the fellow in question has a lengthy beard <i>and</i> is wearing a cycling outfit: that's a season ticket holder.<br />
<br />
Being new to this whole environment (Thursday was my second Prom ever, I went to one last year but that is it.) I asked Peter to explain some of the Prommer culture. There's a passel of hardcore prommers who all have season tickets. They stand up at the front, stage left. At the end of the interval they stand up and, with their chests puffed up tio the sky, chant in awkward and weirdly scanning unison: "Arena. to. audience: promenaders. will be. collecting. for. musical. charities. after. the. concert. So far. you have. donAted. over. (Wednesday it was £40,000) pounds. Thank you."<br />
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There are weird little regulars' tics as well:<br />
<br />
You can get season tickets or day tickets to stand up at the top of the hall in the gallery as well as in the arena, ("Why would you do that? You can't hear anything from up there!") and whenever the lid of a piano is opened, say for a piano concerto, then the arena hollers, "<i>heave</i>!" and the gallery responds back, "<i>ho</i>!"<br />
<br />
If the concertmaster then gets an A from the piano instead of from he oboist- then everyone applauds.<br />
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There was, for many many years, a fountain in the middle of the arena. This fountain has been removed this year and there are some people who are not pleased. These people also happen to be season ticket holders of good standing and lengthy service, so they've started a petition. Some even wear T-shirts with the fountain printed on them. Peter, being the crotchety old man he's not old enough to be yet, is stubbornly against signing the petition.<br />
<br />
As Peter was explaining the ins and outs of the Proms, another season ticket holder joined in our conversation. Alex is a Classicist. His PhD has something to do with the god Aries and associated war gods. Alex is nocturnal and wakes up in time to come to the concerts, so he talks about getting lunch after the show.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
On Wednesday the London Philharmonia was playing, so I went to that as well because I don't pass up opportunities to see Gwen perform. I had been having a lovely picnic with friends in Kensington Gardens (I learned how to bowl for cricket!) and then leisurely walked over to the hall intending to check out what the programme was going to be. Except the line was unexpectedly long and an hour and a half before the concert already went around two corners and halfway up the third side of the block. Did I mention it was raining and I didn't have an umbrella? I was very wet when I made it in, but I still made it.<br />
<br />
My first summer in Britain I had the opportunity to play a Handel Opera in a residency programme out in the countryside somewhere. It was delightful and a powerful learning experience; being completely immersed in baroque recitative meant that for the first time I <i>understood</i> it, and how to play it and how the form of the music seriously affected how the bow needed to be used and where the emphasis of the phrases were and all that. It was fabulous and I got it.<br />
<br />
<br />
This week of concert going has resulted in a similar realisation- as soon as the Philharmonia started playing the penny dropped- orchestras sound different to each other. I mean, I knew that, but I didn't GET it before that concert started. The basses are amazing and there were all these textures that I could pick out and hear and they were smiling and in to it and it was totally delightful in a way that was unique to that week.<br />
<br />
So that's what I've been up to.Casitareinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01169425387607052733noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-455906006187732365.post-41988442986280946252011-08-18T14:03:00.001-05:002011-08-19T02:57:00.846-05:00Foxes, the game.Most of Hide & Seek is up in Edinburgh right now for a big project for the fringe, but they've got a game on Saturday for the Hayward Gallery- so I've been brought in to run it. (I can't tell you how thrilled that makes me.) The game is for some unspecified number of families (or adults, but probably families) in the afternoon. I'm preparing for somewhere between 50 and 80 groups with the option to expand significantly if we need to.<br />
<br />
The game is a sort of naturalist fox hunt. There is a fox who magically can turn into a human somewhere in the Southbank centre. We know what the boundaries of his territory are, but we're not quite sure where is earth (den) is. Can you help us? Foxes mark their territory with scent and faeces markers. They also mark important landmarks within their territory. Find some poo and dissect it, hopefully what they have been eating will give us some clues as to where they are currently. Oh, and his foot prints look like this...off you go.<br />
<br />
Today I needed to pick up quite a lot of odds and ends for what has turned out to be rather a crafty game set up. It was great fun, and quite a lot like a treasure hunt looking for all the things I need. (still don't have fake flowers...will continue to hunt tomorrow.)<br />
<br />
Something it would have been good to keep in mind:<br />
Meters and Yards are quite significantly different. I now have three METERS of orangey brown fake fur...This is a ridiculous quantity.<br />
<br />
At the end of the game when the earth has been found there will be a craft table with supplies for making fox tails to take home with you. It turns out that construction paper is difficult to find in London, particularly if you want only one specific colour and not a rainbow. So I was delighted when, after dejectedly finding absolutely nothing of use in the craft store, I went to the bookstore next door and found a bin filled with rolled up pieces of thick, brown packing paper. Which is <i>perfect </i> for what I need. And totally unexpected. Also, they had sidewalk chalk. Best store <i><b>ever</b>. </i>Also, what? You're a bookstore! <i> </i><br />
<br />
In addition to making fox tails, players will need to dissect the fox poo that they find. (In order to discover what the fox has been eating to aid in locating them....this totally makes sense. Go with it.) So that means that A) I had to make quite a lot of salt dough to be used as fox poo and B) I had to figure out how to make it brown.<br />
<br />
You know what people don't seem to sell? Brown food colouring. So I bought, along with 5 kilos of flour and bunch of salt: cocoa powder, soy sauce, onion gravy granules, and instant coffee. It's been exciting discovering what sorts of weird chemical reactions happen when you try to combine all of that together. So far the best in terms of <i>colour</i> has been cocoa powder mixed with a bit of oil and then kneaded into salt dough which has been made with coffee instead of water. It's a perfect colour, but unfortunately REALLY difficult to knead. Which I'm not particularly interested in considering how much of this I'm making. More experimentation proceeds apace.<br />
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My hands are currently covered in the lingering smells of soy sauce and cocoa powder with a just a slight hint of onion gravy.<br />
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It's gross.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBZsn2LrxWyyhcLEWbG1cdaWW4g2Ya7hoTr-cm2s8lxtfPjarc6TiXwMLogSB8wQV2BbRURpLlCPakM-SFW2D3AVLIgDPn9bQvBgTGJjRgCmpSTDjOnUc5fquDIGWyX9bQY4PwZdIjDDQ/s1600/DSCF1465+3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBZsn2LrxWyyhcLEWbG1cdaWW4g2Ya7hoTr-cm2s8lxtfPjarc6TiXwMLogSB8wQV2BbRURpLlCPakM-SFW2D3AVLIgDPn9bQvBgTGJjRgCmpSTDjOnUc5fquDIGWyX9bQY4PwZdIjDDQ/s320/DSCF1465+3.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Best Shopping Trip Ever</td></tr>
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Casitareinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01169425387607052733noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-455906006187732365.post-54493092826983856762011-07-18T17:15:00.002-05:002011-07-18T17:23:19.823-05:00I'm in FRANCEGwen's family are doing a house swap, just outside Chicago for just outside Paris, and I am the lucky duck who gets to horn in on the vacation. I took the Eurostar this morning (less exciting than I had expected. It's a train. There's a long tunnel. Whatever.) and arrived to smiling faces at Gare du Nord. Today we wandered around a bit and took a bus tour! I loved the bus tour!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>The audio guide on the tour suggested that it was possible to purchase video cassettes on the Champs-Élysées. I would like to suggest that perhaps the audio guide has not been updated recently. The narrator was delightfully emphatic and alternated between chatting about things to our left or right (you may notice the Eifel tower in front of you...no, seriously, she said that.) and playing a piece of music that both Gwen and I were certain we'd played but completely failed to identify.<br />
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I took some pictures.<br />
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I'll share them with you in a moment, but first let me tell you that I declined the offer from a nun to take Gwen's and my picture. In some ways I regret declining that offer from a nun, but on the other hand I was having way too much fun attempting and then failing to take self portraits in front of famous Paris landmarks.<br />
<br />
Here, let me show you:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDqIBW6NRAna89CpaZ-36ff9IdHRVQST3MN0cOblC4VzfeSEUe-8-GtdH9_G-xekAsw89ifI3QrKT2mPn88cWdeUylX5JLAVeqMN766eAIzNjZnsR_qEAzPLz5NJsjRlXuBP-v6iRXfqs/s1600/DSCF1169.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDqIBW6NRAna89CpaZ-36ff9IdHRVQST3MN0cOblC4VzfeSEUe-8-GtdH9_G-xekAsw89ifI3QrKT2mPn88cWdeUylX5JLAVeqMN766eAIzNjZnsR_qEAzPLz5NJsjRlXuBP-v6iRXfqs/s320/DSCF1169.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gwen and I in front of the Arc de Triomphe.<br />
What, you can't see it? Oh, right. Sorry! The zoom was still too far in...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjncWd3Ma4_YfChlJqkBtxGai2CZiu9yXBmcj9EWw65USoQEyuXJuBCfQ0g2PqnclH4s_EoOxGQSjOjgsHREIRWLaPlgQKkDOVNHOwUVjDzXXhvSN1iQ0_CRvwPgPZZ6DVo91ro1ZDOxM/s1600/DSCF1170.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjncWd3Ma4_YfChlJqkBtxGai2CZiu9yXBmcj9EWw65USoQEyuXJuBCfQ0g2PqnclH4s_EoOxGQSjOjgsHREIRWLaPlgQKkDOVNHOwUVjDzXXhvSN1iQ0_CRvwPgPZZ6DVo91ro1ZDOxM/s320/DSCF1170.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gwen and I in front of the Arc de Triomphe.<br />
Um, okay, so the angle is a little bit off. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQfAyX9e-EzlQLH2Swp5fwBCfYpCjIoBZuj4nPiB7C1BQBoQfwuRFOopPzlTHBH8o8OowdI828ZCbNPpuQ5-Ky-j95y-We_UNzhhsid4QVQtT6fQYw8rjuvOzcTd65ByWEtqlxr_45tLg/s1600/DSCF1171.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQfAyX9e-EzlQLH2Swp5fwBCfYpCjIoBZuj4nPiB7C1BQBoQfwuRFOopPzlTHBH8o8OowdI828ZCbNPpuQ5-Ky-j95y-We_UNzhhsid4QVQtT6fQYw8rjuvOzcTd65ByWEtqlxr_45tLg/s320/DSCF1171.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gwen and I in front of the Arc de Triomphe<br />
Eh. It's alright. Not the most amazing photograph ever, but all of the principal players are represented.</td></tr>
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<div>Some thoughts on the Eifel Tower: </div><div>1. It's brown. Did you know it was brown? </div><div>2. Somehow, in person, it is significantly more industrial looking than I expected. </div><div>3. And less pointy. </div><div><br />
</div><div>I had gained some skill by the time we actually stopped by the Eifel Tower, and am almost pleased with these ones: </div><div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGsz20qaR2jezyXDFzxVnVWBe_o-OpqCN3_GMShRI5MxE8dxlNKiI0dNw9w9sqUodZtxgkk3Kcb9tB3h1v37o8Ichd_bDFLbhrqMIIAgtY8u8Q5v35ZtP4rgy5FQ1yvLPnYiTGwiYXDfo/s1600/DSCF1185.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGsz20qaR2jezyXDFzxVnVWBe_o-OpqCN3_GMShRI5MxE8dxlNKiI0dNw9w9sqUodZtxgkk3Kcb9tB3h1v37o8Ichd_bDFLbhrqMIIAgtY8u8Q5v35ZtP4rgy5FQ1yvLPnYiTGwiYXDfo/s320/DSCF1185.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The zoom! Don't keep it all zoomed in! Also, change the angle, this is never going to be a good picture. Your head is in the way. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTDFyoVUhoeo2d5Fg_-ltZHyV34usuatbITwj65sRi_VT-f_PzJ1UHxHLM1vhJFu4qvwQ3mH6-aQreXP6oOl4AskbRJs1Y7Zd75JBFD_7QZhQrkdUCA2Y5xHHafAGm-leD3j5VwR3MtRE/s1600/DSCF1194.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTDFyoVUhoeo2d5Fg_-ltZHyV34usuatbITwj65sRi_VT-f_PzJ1UHxHLM1vhJFu4qvwQ3mH6-aQreXP6oOl4AskbRJs1Y7Zd75JBFD_7QZhQrkdUCA2Y5xHHafAGm-leD3j5VwR3MtRE/s320/DSCF1194.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ze Tower! (Is it rude to write in a fake French accent while sitting in a gorgeous house in Fontainebleu? Probably.)</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEn8CmdW-C2DMupJZGf-iuzeW8ByW9ijg8ge30OjvkEkXIBmPGT6gCNgE1QCJswv517LS96lpZNUhEqe93ggXTQpquslQFZP28QgSWkaDAjgYkCK9Vj8jxy5Ni6ARbg9vdv6XfreDTlCE/s1600/DSCF1197.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEn8CmdW-C2DMupJZGf-iuzeW8ByW9ijg8ge30OjvkEkXIBmPGT6gCNgE1QCJswv517LS96lpZNUhEqe93ggXTQpquslQFZP28QgSWkaDAjgYkCK9Vj8jxy5Ni6ARbg9vdv6XfreDTlCE/s320/DSCF1197.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It worked! A self portrait that worked! With an important landmark!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0aCLPVvaYKSyQgbU16K2lYYW1rEjJmb670zuUOhzWX9mIocZJ0rx-S9LHdHfuejVssEwDojJbwc945cdEI-wh5NlHaZO_BAYYiIYlV9Usp65gZRqjH4-yIs6ThImzYPhlL3MaQYPOa04/s1600/DSCF1199.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0aCLPVvaYKSyQgbU16K2lYYW1rEjJmb670zuUOhzWX9mIocZJ0rx-S9LHdHfuejVssEwDojJbwc945cdEI-wh5NlHaZO_BAYYiIYlV9Usp65gZRqjH4-yIs6ThImzYPhlL3MaQYPOa04/s320/DSCF1199.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some notes about my clothes: I'm wearing a coat. I'm clearly in Paris. It is mid-July. Pssht. </td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9tgFukQGOcRsU3XbDZbh5nG1JMEURhYKtAt6VRSOEpUtG8SjisCDF0C0SYVwjGmzFl8pG8oo3BjXBGzOAHCSm9qBwmrx7HMaDILwLNtwtrz4BlCr35cWrY6AEmcRd0VPZouCKfp3hT4M/s1600/DSCF1200.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9tgFukQGOcRsU3XbDZbh5nG1JMEURhYKtAt6VRSOEpUtG8SjisCDF0C0SYVwjGmzFl8pG8oo3BjXBGzOAHCSm9qBwmrx7HMaDILwLNtwtrz4BlCr35cWrY6AEmcRd0VPZouCKfp3hT4M/s320/DSCF1200.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And it was a bit windy. </td></tr>
</tbody></table><div><br />
<div>ps. The spell check on blogger is currently set to French. Currently 98% of this entry is highlighted due to misspellings.<br />
<div><br />
<br />
</div></div></div>Casitareinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01169425387607052733noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-455906006187732365.post-51433549769460744352011-07-10T08:45:00.000-05:002011-07-10T08:45:18.238-05:00Harrow Suzuki Group<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The final Harrow Suzuki school concert was this morning which means that now all of my school year things are finished with. The little ones all wore fancy dress (costumes) and looked adorable. (I'm hoping that one of the group photographs will wend its way to me!) My favourites were the two boys who had substantial plastic helmets as part of their attire, because how do you play the violin with a helmet on??</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The younger group sang a princess song with lots of actions and a pirate song with lots of jumping. They were excellent. We've been practicing them a capella because I'm not so great with the piano, but the pianist who was accompanying the violin portions of the concert decided to help us out as well. That was great except that at the beginning of the first song we turned out to have begun in two completely different keys. It took a minute for us all to work that one out and start again. Oops! Embarrassing! Fortunately Suzuki parents (or at the very least THIS group of Suzuki parents) are the nicest people ever so they just chuckled and we carried on.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The older group did a rhythmic vocal warm up that they had written new words for, a dancing song with actions and “ai-yi-yi”-ing, and pease pudding hot in 4ths. Thank goodness for the piano in the pease pudding song; we always get there in the end, but this time they were able to sing the 4ths straight away. A relief since this was, after all, the concert. Phew. </span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I have a great fondness for any number of these students. They're clever and focused (more or less) and nearly all of them are hilarious goofballs. One of the girls was sat directly in my sight line during the violin pieces and for one song proceeded to follow the line of the music with her face. Does that make any sense? She was squinching her face all up and then popping her eyebrows up to her hairline following the melody that the violins were playing. Now, if I were a responsible adult I probably would have silently shook my head to get her to stop. But I'm not. So I joined in. (And hoped it wasn't *too*<span style="font-weight: normal;"> obvious!) After the concert her mother laughingly asked what the pair of us monkeys had been doing. (Tum ti tum.</span><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">...nothing, geeze)</span></i><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span> </span></div><div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I'm keeping this group until I leave because I love them so much. </span></div>Casitareinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01169425387607052733noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-455906006187732365.post-58938209774640088582011-07-09T15:58:00.000-05:002011-07-09T15:58:41.668-05:00Birthday Week!: Mommy Edition<i>It's birthday week here at londoncasey, and I've just realized that because I've been titling all of these posts with what I</i> actually<i> call my relatives- that means that this one is titled "Mommy" and though I'm not 100% certain that I wanted the internet to know that I call my mom 'Mommy', well, meh. Let's go with it. </i><i>(She typically gets called "Betsy" by those who know her.) </i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
I'm leaving London.<br />
<br />
My visa is up in mid-November and though I have spent most of this year trying to figure out how to stay, I couldn't manage to find a method that would both work (you know, legally) and feel right. So I'm heading back to America and I am (ever so tentatively) starting to get in to the idea.<br />
<br />
About a month ago, when this decision was really made and I closed the doors on the half options that were still floating around- I talked to Laine and *<i style="font-weight: bold;">FREAKED OUT</i>* about things like...phone bills. And health insurance. And the price of food in America. Because I've not really dealt with those things in the US, only in the UK. (She promised me that I would be able to figure it out and then forwarded a link to a freelancers union in NY. She's an excellent sister.)<br />
<br />
At the end of this month I will be done with all of my contracted work, though the tykes may continue to pull me in for supply/substitute teaching the first couple months of school. What this means is that though my income drops dramatically come September, I do have this <i>glorious</i> gift of time coming to me. And it feels like a good bookend in a lot of ways- I showed up in London (and, in fact, started this blog) with a whole month of time on my hands, a travel card, and a sense of exploratory adventure. Now I get the chance to leave like that as well.<br />
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I'm done with teaching for now. I'll be moving in the middle of the school year and it's not something I've been particularly excited about for a while (you may have noticed the diminishing number of tyke related posts). It very well may be something that I come back to, but I shouldn't think I would look for classroom teaching positions in America. (For one thing, I really really don't have an education degree.)<br />
<br />
I'm done with the bass. I don't think I posted this to the blog, but I don't own a bass any longer- the one I had been playing in London now has a happy home in Norway and my American bass is helping out the Seattle Youth Symphony.<br />
<br />
And maybe I'm done with London. (Maybe just for this round.)<br />
<br />
Things I still want to do before I move back to America<br />
1. Go punting. Andrew is moving to Oxford in October, this may become his responsibility.<br />
2. Do some more rambling. There's an awful lot of the country I've not tromped through yet, and some more tromping needs to happen.<br />
3. Go to Kew Gardens. I still haven't made it there yet, which is ridiculous given how much I like plant museums.<br />
4. Have a massive birthday party of goodness. I did a bouncy castle last year, this year needs something new.<br />
5. Do some European travelling. I'm going to France (<i>finally</i>) in, oh, a week! I'd forgotten it was so soon! But I want to see Berlin and maybe Hungary too.<br />
6. Go camping! I want to burn things and sleep outdoors and get really, really muddy.<br />
7. Get my English finances in order so I don't worry about having messed something up once I'm far away again.<br />
<br />
You know why this list isn't longer? Because I <i>do</i> the things I want to in London. I go to improv class every week and I have a marvellous yoga teacher, and I get to be involved in all of these cool and exciting games and I walk in a London park at least three times a week, and every time I get on a bus I sit on the upper deck (and very often in the front), and I wander over to Trafalgar Square and squee at all of the squee-ing Harry Potter fans just because it is <i>there</i> and goodness me I am blessed. Not least because everywhere I go I am surrounded by some pretty extraordinary people.<br />
<br />
Lucky, lucky, lucky me.<br />
<br />
I'm going to miss here. But maybe it's time for something else.Casitareinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01169425387607052733noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-455906006187732365.post-9865242744591790672011-07-08T17:51:00.004-05:002011-07-09T09:44:04.880-05:00Birthday Week!: Grammy Edition<i>This week is birthday week, where about 50% of my family officially gets older. My grandmother Ruthe is the only one to have her birthday on a day that is not divisible by 3. Forewarning: I am *exhausted* and likely to be rambly....here goes!</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
Have I told you about the theatre project I'm doing? It's a site specific devised theatre piece/game for the opening festival of a new youth arts venue near Finsbury Park. We're working with a bunch of teenagers from the neighboring estate. It's a fun project in a lot of ways, but particularly exciting for me because I am listed in all the programmes and flyers as a game designer. Or games consultant, or something like that. It makes me feel hip and cool and like I seem like I know what I'm talking about.<br />
<br />
Last month I went to Bristol for igFest (The Interesting Games Festival) it was pretty spectacular and involved a three hour long chase game through the centre of town on a Saturday night where you had to avoid getting eaten by zombies (or crashing into the truly remarkable number of becostumed hen and stag nights wandering the town and getting into fights).<br />
<br />
The <span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">pièce de résistance was running away from zombies in an empty mall. I had an epic moment where I was climbing backwards up a down escalator in order to stay in once place because I needed to avoid the zombies milling around both the bottom and the top of the escalator. I eventually got caught about 20 meters away from the final safe zone, which was </span><i>excellent </i>because it meant that I got to have a face full of zombie makeup for the after party. </span></span><br />
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</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLvgJ1HpVNOkTIm2k9HWx9pAaonh0B4Xe7q9C2TSDebEo1NG8x0RK9iA5gOdi5N0zxXrKNuYjaAKCXDd2p8NbxrDA_6jQQ4HUbBAQ7Vby6NSdfwD94FqPmH-SC3DznNAwdJX-LEdy296o/s1600/DSCF1126.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLvgJ1HpVNOkTIm2k9HWx9pAaonh0B4Xe7q9C2TSDebEo1NG8x0RK9iA5gOdi5N0zxXrKNuYjaAKCXDd2p8NbxrDA_6jQQ4HUbBAQ7Vby6NSdfwD94FqPmH-SC3DznNAwdJX-LEdy296o/s320/DSCF1126.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">City Dash</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I also helped to run two games- one for fire-hazard and one for hide & seek. Fire-hazard's game involved having a map and codes stickered to the players' front and back. The players snuck around the city centre using their maps to find small, hidden stickers with codes to text in for points while avoiding guards who would text in the players chest plate codes to take away points. It is our most tech heavy game and it went off surprisingly well. We ran it twice; the first day I was a guard and the second day I bossed people around. (The pictures are of me bossing people around.) The running of the game mostly involves tracking the course of the game in order to recalibrate it half way through if needed, so I spent the 45 minutes or so that it was running after everyone had their stickers and their texts all set up hunkered down in the corner of an alleyway that led to a lovely covered market, staring at the computer and clicking "refresh." I think I prefer the bossing people around aspect.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Hide & Seek's game was about ceilidhs and involved dancing, trading ribbons, and running away from "Evil Morris Dancers." My role there was mostly to be bossy (yay!) and instruct people in how to weave between each other while doing the dance. It was a great deal of fun and also involved a pair of bemused musicians who remained reticent when asked whether this was the weirdest gig they'd ever done. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">On the last day of the festival (I make it sound like this big thing, but it was just a weekend) there was a game designers brunch to discuss questions about what we do. Er, they do. I wanted to go, but wasn't sure if it was really something I was part of (Casey, you were there with TWO games companies. Shut up) but having crashed in my friend Holly's hotel room after the zombie game (I needed a shower and the person I was staying with was heavily pregnant and far away and it was very late and oh my gosh the water flowed pink from all of the fake blood/zombie makeup) she and I went to the brunch together. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">At first I stayed quiet, listening carefully to other people. Then someone asked about fire-hazard and I wasn't sure if I should really answer the question or not because it isn't *my* company and I'm not 100% privy to Gwyn's plans for it. But blah blah blah by the end of the meeting I was yabbering away like a talkative macaw. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">At some point recently Gwyn and I were planning/hanging out and recalled a rumor that Jane McGonigal's book <a href="http://realityisbroken.org/"> Reality is Broken</a> had a chapter about our friend Kevan, so we tried to get an ebook copy to see if we could find it, but that was kind of a pain and whatever system for reading ebooks that Gwyn had downloaded didn't have a search function so we were just randomly scrolling through the book. This was remarkably ineffectual in terms of finding Kevan, but did mean that I noticed a picture of a bunch of people jumping down some stairs,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">"Hey, Gwyn?"</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">"Yeah?"</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">"Isn't that you over on the right?"</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">With two fire-hazard members now confirmed as being in the book; w</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">e decided that Gwyn would buy the book, send it to me, and I would mark it all up and then report back. The first <i>three</i> steps of that process happened...Sorry, Gwyn. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">I've just noticed that on the last page I've written and underlined, "Superfly" which I think is a good shorthand for how I feel about this book. <i>Some</i> of the pages <i>aren't</i> underlined! I got chatty in the margins and circled a lot of things. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">My friend Josh and I have teamed up to design some games for Hide & Seek's next 'sandpit' game testing session in a week's time. We've worked on about 5, only one of which is going to be used for this Sandpit, but hopefully more of them will see the light of day in August.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">So the point: starting with the second day of Bristol and the brunch and developing through working with Josh and getting hired to be a game designer/consultant for the theatre project and continuing to work with both Holly and Gwyn...I'm starting to feel like this is something I can say I <i>do. </i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><i><br />
</i></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzSwz09VxxrSC6pTHurNeZFUe67fhGlLVwPUvUdUWjtlu9J5xDJ4ScfbLBJ-b7w4zRJvbLa-TpsPaDGq93OGXb78E8gF_HcuPlsafUHQ2EeDx8liCNpUxpntihhd1Il67Y6D-8Ne7arHA/s1600/DSCF1124.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzSwz09VxxrSC6pTHurNeZFUe67fhGlLVwPUvUdUWjtlu9J5xDJ4ScfbLBJ-b7w4zRJvbLa-TpsPaDGq93OGXb78E8gF_HcuPlsafUHQ2EeDx8liCNpUxpntihhd1Il67Y6D-8Ne7arHA/s320/DSCF1124.JPG" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bossing people with my hands full</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6pkVyTCxhOJGMbylEjv5FCm4c2OB9xy1HB9wG0HrAc-RicjMNUOhOhWxGJOhzitz7aZVcNRB3DQtQtQJqRgftiD0-JOgmN4xj7ykumG-01iiEzKP_iiq5bsvSwpUtj8POz7C3sBFQkA4/s1600/DSCF1125.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6pkVyTCxhOJGMbylEjv5FCm4c2OB9xy1HB9wG0HrAc-RicjMNUOhOhWxGJOhzitz7aZVcNRB3DQtQtQJqRgftiD0-JOgmN4xj7ykumG-01iiEzKP_iiq5bsvSwpUtj8POz7C3sBFQkA4/s320/DSCF1125.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bossing people with a ridiculous expression on my face</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><i><br />
</i></span>Casitareinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01169425387607052733noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-455906006187732365.post-85989874864346917172011-07-06T18:02:00.000-05:002011-07-06T18:06:50.047-05:00Birthday Week!: Papa Edition<i>It's birthday week here at londoncasey, where once a year we celebrate the 50% of my family who managed to be born during BIRTHDAY WEEK. It is, I think, exciting for all of us. Next up is my father, Dan. For his birthday he gets a blog about some tykes....</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
In spite of numerous leaving parties and speeches and class parties and general end of the year-ness, I am still at school. This is because I decided to work for the summer camp. Down in the junior camp ("down" because we're in the basement) we've got a surplus of tykes. On Monday morning we were expecting around 25, but as I was registering they just kept coming and coming and coming. When the dust settled we had 35. Maybe 10 doesn't seem like that big a number, but in terms of tyke corralling, it is significant. Fortunately we've now got six staff people, so it has actually been a pleasure so far this week.<br />
<br />
We do, however, have one child who is literally a hand full. When he wants to be he is an absolute sweetheart and I genuinely enjoy working with him. That being said, when he starts acting up there is very little that we can do. Explaining quietly and in a deep voice while making lots of eye contact that throwing things at other children is not okay only makes him laugh. When he gets worked up he starts getting violent as well. This morning, and I don't even remember what set this off, I was holding him back and trying to get him under control. He kicked me, pinched my neck, and bit my hand- all of which I could handle and while it wasn't <i>enjoyable</i> didn't really phase me. Then he bent my glasses and I lost it.<br />
<br />
I injure myself often enough that I don't mind some bruises or cuts (I have a foot long self inflicted bruise on my thigh right now from where I accidentally tripped and fell onto a bench in the hall during lunch last week. That was embarrassing. I threw food everywhere. One of the year 1 children came up to me after I had cleaned up and sat down again to tell me not to worry because he had fallen down as well and he was okay now.) But don't touch my glasses.<br />
<br />
I felt weirdly exposed with my glasses broken. The right earpiece was bent wide to the side. Nothing was actually broken off but it meant that in order to stay on my head the ear piece needed to be outside my ear rather than behind it. If I looked down, say, to talk to any of the tykes, they slipped down my nose. Linda took the boy away from me immediately after my glasses got bent and I rushed outside to try and get myself under control. I cried. Liz came out and gave me a hug. Chetna came over and gave me a hug. I gulped some air and let myself be led over to the shooting range where the Senior camp was later going to do some archery. So that was cool. I at least managed to hit the target. (And didn't further injure myself like I did the last time I did archery as a 9 year old when I somehow managed to shoot the fletching into my index finger.)<br />
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</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">We called the kid's mom and sat him in the room next door away from everyone else. (With the door open so we could still see him.) He calmed down quite a lot once he was by himself and ended up sitting there for over an hour while we waited for someone to come and pick him up. I suspect that being in a dark, empty space was probably a good thing for him- less stimulation. By lunch time he was back to being his charming, smiley self. But we still sent him home. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I went to an opticians after school and they were able to bend the ear piece back, more or less. They hang behind my ear now but the fit is still looser than I would like it to be and probably now is the time to get a second pair of glasses so that I am not completely bereft if this happens again. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Um. Happy Birthday, Papa! I understand now why you used to get to annoyed when I went for your glasses as a kid....</div>Casitareinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01169425387607052733noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-455906006187732365.post-46648574182558539552011-07-03T06:07:00.000-05:002011-07-03T06:07:20.876-05:00Birthday Week!: Mical Edition<i>It's time to launch Birthday Week! This is the week that about 50% of my family was born, so it's an important one. Today, kicking the whole thing off is my grandma, Mical. What does she get? A completely random blog entry....</i><br />
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Today I washed my teddy bear.<br />
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It is sunny and warm out and I figure he has as good a chance as any for actually *drying* today. I've tried washing him once before, the first year I moved to London. He had started to smell and, well, that was at <i>least</i> as gross as it sounds. I washed him in the sink of my dorm room and the water turned a disgusting, dark brown. I was discouraged. Also, he took many many days to try. I was further discouraged.<br />
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So I did what any normal person would do and ignored the problem for another three years. Until today! Today I fixed the problem! Today it occurred to me that while the water may turn a truly vile dark brown colour, filled with grime that does not bear thinking about, I could <i>continue </i>to wash him. Today it occurred to me that this wasn't a one sink full of water kind of a job.<br />
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Twelve. It was a twelve sinks full kind of a job. And my hands and wrists hurt from squeezing that much water out of essentially a fragile sponge. But by the 12th sink full? The water was running clear. Thank goodness.<br />
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Gross.<br />
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Also, can I just say that 25+ years of anthropomorphising Soft Bear makes it VERY difficult to push his head down into a sink full of water? I had to consciously keep reminding myself that I was not being evil, that teddy bears do not need to breathe, that his eyes weren't accusing me from underneath the water, that, really, it was <i>good </i>for him to be washed and he would thank me later even if at this current moment he couldn't understand why I was doing this to him, that when I pulled him, sodden with water, out of the sink that the reason I was holding him like a baby and supporting his head was because the fabric was fragile. Yes. That's why.<br />
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I fear I may have revealed too much here today.Casitareinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01169425387607052733noreply@blogger.com4