You know, like those Vaudeville performers used to do... keeping a bunch of plates balanced on sticks and spinning so they wouldn't unbalance and fall. These are my spinning plates.
Plate #1: Trying to get my fat ass to the gym, damnit.
Plate #2: Trying to get my house cleaned up (or at least the kitchen) before my stepmom gets here to make dinner for the kids.
Plate #3: Digging out all my tax info.
Plate #4: Digging out my time-keeping records for the litigation vs RestorX.
Plate #5: Directing Deathtrap, which is coming along nicely.
Plate #6: Getting a hold of the tech director at Youngstown to schedule hanging & aiming lights.
Plate #7: RADZ book in layout.
Plate #8: Family counseling.
Plate #9: Promoting the Requiem CD.
Plate #10: Preproduction on Duo.
Plate #11: Preproduction on Top Secret Short.
Plate #12: Development of the OA television series pitch package.
Plate #13: Being an emotionally accessible and loving yet firm single parent.
And that doesn't include all the stuff I actually crossed off the list this week!
The kids got to go see Matchbox Twenty, Alanis Morissette & Mute Math at Key Arena last Saturday, which they loved. It was Tyler's first rock concert and Kayleigh's second. They got to meet Mute Math and get stuff autographed, and Tyler is now a big fan. Thanks to Ann for the tickets, and thanks to Doug for giving me some chill-out time Saturday night.
Sunday morning was David Long's memorial service at the Episcopal church adjacent to West Seattle High. It was my first Episcopal service, and it made me glad I'm not Episcopal. Long and dry, with all of the ritual, trappings and graven imagery of the Catholic Church, and none of the fun. The giant crucifix over the altar was a nondescript cross, with an effigy of Jesus out in front of it and in the act of ascent. With the draped robes, he really looked like Superman... or I guess Superchrist. They interred David's ashes in the lawn right next to a beautiful tree in front of the church. Caleb recited a loving tribute in his own style of prose, which left no dry eye. It was good to see my theater community there, despite the alien religious setting.
The changing of the clocks on Sunday threw a wrench into Tyler's precarious sleep schedule, the ripples of which we've been dealing with this week.
I went to lunch with my friend Mike Cressy, who lost his girlfriend to suicide a few months ago. We hadn't actually been face to face since Sam's memorial, so it was good to see him again. I got to have a sneak peek at his new art book. We traded swag, played a little guitar, agreed to get together more often. I cannot imagine the survivor guilt that must go with a suicide. I know from experience that "natural causes" (if cancer can be called that) is bad enough in that regard. It must be so much more acute with suicide, even when faced with the plain truth that the problems were there well before the relationship, and she was going to do it no matter what you did to save her.
There are far too many of us out there missing our mates, spouses, partners, lovers. At far too young an age.
Okay, back to my plates...