two shows and lots of fishies

    These days have been jam packed full of sisterly fun.

     And today was no different, with a two-show day and a trip to the aquarium squeezed in between. Not bad for a Saturday, I think.

    Here we are in the Ocean Voyager exhibit. Of course I had to show off my go-go-gadget-arm skills and snap a pic.

   And I sat down for a moment in a very large...oyster? clam? 
  Whatever it was, it gave my feet a much-needed break. After my jaunt on the stage in the ever-present heels and the mile walk to the aquarium, I was ready to take a load off.

   And the...large, shelled, oceanic creature was just the thing.

   Oh. And here is a piranha. Actually, a few of them, but we tried to really zero in on the one who had an unfortunate tumor of some sort that kept him from closing his mouth all the way.

We were torn between laughing and feeling sorry for the little guy. So we did both--and got a picture of his ugly little mug for documentation purposes.
   And this photo is almost completely for my brother Jason. He is so transfixed and fascinated by predators that whenever I see one I inevitably think of him. 

   So here you go, Jase; this gator's for you!
  And this picture of the beluga whale makes me laugh because it looks more like we are suspended in outer space and he is an alien making his way towards me.

  Or maybe my parents' have subjected me to one too many Startrek films.

   Actually, watching any Startrek flick is watching one too many, if you ask me (sorry, mom and pop!).

   And me and Jenna were really grateful that these Japanese Spider Crabs were behind glass. Though even with that guarantee I still felt the need to assume a defensive posture. You know, just in case.
  And look, WHALE SHARKS!!!
   *please insert undocumented parts of the day which include walking what felt like miles to find the MARTA station, my sister and I being stared at quite openly by a creeper who somehow managed to pull out a bottle of gin, take a pull from it, and not brake his stare, doing another show in heels that did not feel like they were made for walking, standing, or even dancing, for that matter, and then meeting Elton John's personal assistant who has seen ACL 50 times and loved watching our cast, or so he said*

   And then after the show, sharing dessert at the Melting Pot.
     Pretty darned delicious.

little five points and miss mary mac, mac, mac

   Today we set out for Little Five Points.  I was there many moons ago with one of my best friends, Christine. 

   And we were there as a smaller part of a collectively larger group, Youth With A Mission. 

   Anyway, our particular mission was to dance basically wherever we could find a level space and something with which we could play our music.  

   So, we headed out to Little Five Points, a communal hang out with local shops, artists, musicians, and yes, drum circles. There was also a small theater called 7 Stages and we, being naive and not knowing exactly how one books a gig, simply went right into the lobby, found the director, and told him that we wanted to perform on one of his 7 stages,.

  That night, if possible.

  I mean, we weren't being too crazy; it's not like we asked to perform on all 7 of his stages or anything like that. 

  

  Surprisingly enough, he auditioned us, and after watching us dance, said we were in. So we became part of a variety act and went on right after a solo modern dancer finished contracting, suspending, releasing, and rolling to nothing but the sounds of the didgeridoo.

  If you are familiar with that sound, than you can only imagine how enthusiastically we applauded once we realized we didn't have to listen to it droning on any longer.  

  Anyway, four of us decided to get on the MARTA and find our way to Little Five Points. 

  We got off at Five Points Station, knowing that it wasn't a very long walk from there to where we wanted to go.  I asked an elderly man for exact directions and he told us to either "jes go straight up yonder and turn lef' at the espressway" or if we were feeling adventurous, I guess, we could "jes foller that man through the park and make a rat at Eucleed."

  After navigating through his delightful southern accent, we made our decision. 

  

  Now we weren't altogether positive that "that man" was going to Little Five Points, but we decided we liked the idea of walking in a park more than on an expressway, so we headed off toward where "that man" had just disappeared. 

   And sure enough, we turned "rat" at Euclid and found ourselves in exactly the right spot.

  There was a good amount of graffiti on the walls, but in this place it didn't seem so intrusive; it blended in with the eclectic atmosphere. Besides, although I don't necessarily think that you can find the term sparkle motion in Webster's Dictionary, I really like the sentiment.
  I also like to support local shops, like to pick up items that you would probably not find at your nearby Gap or Macy's. So, I saw this red hat and decided I would give it a home.
   I also saw this tee and liked the message enough to want to wear it and spread the idea.
  And then we got back to downtown Atlanta and made it to the historic and mouth-wateringly tasty restaurant, Mary Mac's Tea Room. 

  A restaurant that has been around since WWII when all the menfolk were away fighting the good fight and Miss Mac decided to make some money and serve some soul food. 
  This was maybe my favorite part of the meal, I think. The waiter nonchalantly placed a bread basket smack dab in the middle of our table as if we get to eat fresh-out-of-the-oven cinnamon rolls, warm,  melt-in-your-mouth biscuits, and crumbly corn muffins every day of our lives. 

  Although thinking about it, it's probably for the best that we don't.

  We almost started singing when we saw it. But instead we started stuffing ourselves and any notion of that was quickly put to rest since our mouths were quite busy devouring these. 
   The place was really just perfect. Though, what was not perfect was having to put my leotard on shortly after for the show and feeling like one of the beluga whales we're going to see tomorrow at the aquarium ...
  Still, the baked chicken, cornbread dressing, chicken gravy, cranberry sauce, sweet potato souffle, creamed corn, and strawberry shortcake was utterly worth it.

confessions of a messy girl

   Oh we're confessing things, are we?

   Fine. 

  

   I'll go first. 

    My name is Jessica and I am messy. Not dirty, mind you--there is a very big difference between the two and I just want to be clear that I am certainly the former and not at all the latter.  

   I mean, really, I shower like every other day. 

   Or at least every three days.

   But truly, you know how you have that unspoken to-do list that's always hanging around in the back of your mind whether it's really welcome or not? And whether you actually do it or not?

   Well right up there with visiting the OBGYN, actually making sure that I have indeed read every book of the Bible in its entirety, and getting my husband to finally buy his brothers' their respective Christmas presents (though, to my knowledge, they still owe us ours, so perhaps by March it should just be judicially declared a wash), is the never-ending quest to become An Organized Person.  

   To proudly take my place next next to the type-A people of the world who, rather than having their accordion type filer shoved into the corner of the office, successfully keeping one square of the carpet clean and that's about it, actually have it labeled and filled with neatly stashed receipts and bills and pay stubs and coupons and copious notes on Smart Couples Finish Rich.

   Rather than just reading the first couple of chapters over and over again because, inevitably, something like the Twilight series makes an appearance in your life and then you forget about being smart or a couple or the prospect of finishing rich--or finishing anything at all other than Twilight, for that matter--and so you lose your place and months later, after you've read everything you could about Edward and Bella, you remember that you did at one point want to be smart, that you are certainly part of a couple, and oh yeah--how was it again you were supposed to finish rich?

   Um, not that anything like that has ever been part of my experience. 

    But, anyway, I dream of being organized. 

     Of not having a bed that looks like this:

  Or a bedroom that looks like this:
  Or an office that looks like this:
  Although I do like the look of our cats in all those places, I do not like how they are surrounded in a disorganized mess...

   So, I started doing something to help. Instead of keeping my receipts in the bottom of my purse or just sloshing around in either of my suitcases or my trunk, I now have a small plastic ziplock bag that I put them in.

   When the bag gets full, I will start a new one. 

   I thought this was at least a stab at organization, which for me, is progress.

   And I need to confess one more thing; before you go thinking I am an innovative genius, the plastic bag idea was my friend, Stephanie's.  

   But for me actually doing it? Yes, you can certainly think I am an innovative genius.  

   So, you wanna share any tips on how you manage to keep your life organized?

coke

    My sister Jenna and I are once again sharing a bed. The nice thing is that it is now a king size bed, since my go-getter of a roommate Gabi got us upgraded for free.

   Yep, we went from a pretty regular two bed hotel room to a pimped out two bedroom suite.

   Which is sweet.  

   So, in Atlanta Coca-Cola is king. Everywhere you look you see that universal red and white lettered swag--on umbrellas, signs, clothes, and of course, cans and bottles.  Anyway, after successfully opening here we decided that next on the agenda was a visit to the World of Coca-Cola.  

  Uh-huh, the world. 

 

  Intense. 

  And not only that, but a bargain, considering when we paid the $15 fee we not only received our admission ticket, we also received a coupon for a free waffle from the Waffle House.  

  Now, we had already planned to go visit this wonderful world, so a free waffle to boot was only the icing on the coke. Er, cake.   

   Right, so here we are, totally chilling with that famously friendly polar bear who is so cool because he drinks coke.

  

  He's also cool because he didn't eat us alive. 

  And he's in commercials. 

  So he's happy because he gets those checks from residuals.

  And a happy polar bear who drinks coke, stars in commercials, and gets paid well generally does not eat people.  

  It was a win-win situation.   

  We wandered around, learning about the beginnings of coca-cola. Apparently, they first brewed the stuff using a copper kettle.
  Um, a copper kettle that you simply cannot pick up. The early coke brewers must have been very strong. Or maybe the World of Coca-Cola was playing a mean trick on me. 

  Next we stopped at the old fashioned soda shop and waited for the waiter to serve us.

  And waited...And...waited...
  Finally we gave up on him altogether and walked ourselves into a room where we could serve ourselves. 64 different flavors of soda from around the world is no joke. We were so excited to find something called Delaware Punch.

  Sure, it wasn't as delicious as something from Delaware really should be--but still, it was interesting.  

  Fact for you: Coca-Cola employees were not allowed to call Coca-Cola coke until 1942. You think before then they had wild parties where they threw that four letter word around like a bunch of crazed and irresponsible teenagers?  You think they thrilled to the way they successfully stuck it to the man every time they said the Word That Shall Not Be Named?  And I bet the police raided those underground gatherings stealthily, listening outside the door with ears pressed close, just waiting to hear the word coke and bam! they were all over the place, making arrests, breaking it up, telling the non-offenders to go home, that all their fun was shut down for the night.  

   Yeah, and I wonder how many past generations of Coca-Cola employees marched for the Freedom to Abbreviate, sacrificed their job security, their popularity, perhaps even their lives to ensure freedom for all.

   I just hope the present employees appreciate what they did. 

   I know I sure do.  

  
   And you probably should, too.

surprise

   So, I was just sitting at an elegant table while enjoying our opening night party (and all the free food that entails) here in Atlanta when this guy comes up to me and whispers into my ear, 

    I would have hired you...

   I know, sounds creepy, right? Which was my initial reaction, too--until I looked up and realized it was my good friend, Zaller, surprising me by coming to the show tonight.

   There was a time when we saw each other every day; we climbed a lot of stairs together--me climbing more stairs than he, since he was a principal and I was merely in the ensemble--he and I, along, with my sweet friend Betsy were known as the 'X's' and had a secret hand signal which we used to pass along the pertinent information that, tonight, it was definitely going to be a West Wing Night.

  The three of us even have these awesome matching bracelets, thanks to Bets and her talented, artisan dad.

   The first day we met him he was walking through the cast, trying to get to wherever it was he needed to go, I guess and said, Ah, principal coming through, guys...

   Well, we didn't know him so well then, certainly not well enough to know if he was joking or not, which led us to two conclusions:

• He is a jerk
• He makes jokes that aren't funny

   Turns out the first conclusion was absolutely not true while the latter conclusion was only true sometimes.

   However, most of the time he does make funny jokes.  

   Anyway, in the ten months I did the Will Rogers Follies (which is basically entirely performed on stairs, thus the earlier stairs reference) I got to know him; and while navigating through late night talks about who we think God is, our families, this crazy business, as well as falling in love with CJ, Toby, Charlie, President Bartlett, Sam, Donna, and Leo from the West Wing, we landed in something that I am happy to call friendship.

   

  Gosh it's been...I don't even know how long, maybe two years or so since last we saw each other. But one thing that I love about this business is you end up with friends just about everywhere--and most of the time you aren't even aware it is happening until you are crying and hugging and saying crazy things like you never would have been able to do all those kicks or sing the same stupid lyric day in and day out without so-and-so doing the very same thing right next to you.  

  Or at least, you are fairly sure that it would not have been so startlingly fun.

chicken, waffles, ipods, and my sister

   Today has been going on for a very long time. 

   Travel days tend to be that way.

   With a wake-up call at 6:15--after having gone to bed at 3:15--I was tired, true, but ready to go to Atlanta. And see my sister, Jenna, who is visiting for the week!

   We got to the airport and made our usual rounds of jokes and ambling conversations as we wore our oversized sunglasses indoors like rock stars and waited to check our over-the-alloted-weight-limit luggage.  

   And although the Delta terminal did not have a delicious breakfast sandwich to be found (they did have a sub-parr one which, unfortunately, I settled for), they did have this: 

  An ipod vending machine. Seriously. I mean, sure, I figured that Steve Jobs probably had a couple of these in his house, fishing them out with a few quarters for friends when they visit, but really? A vending machine full of ipods for us normal folk?

  How does that work? Do you say, Honey, I know you asked me to get you some cheez-its from the vending machine on my way back from the bathroom, but then I saw this new ipod nano and figured it would be just as good...?

  I thought it was pretty funny and I know a few people who would be really excited to say that they bought their particular ipod from a vending machine--my own dear Drew being one of them.

  Other than making a seemingly already grumpy couple even grumpier by asking them if I could um, have the window seat to which I was actually assigned, the flight was nice and smooth. 

  Nothing like my flight from Detroit, thank God.

   Actually, it was so smooth that I slept right through the whole thing. Even, horror of horrors, through the snack! It is so rare these days to actually fly something that serves you a snack that, upon finding out later that I slept right through it, I was quite irritated with myself.

  I am not the kind to turn down a complimentary snack, you know.

  Ahem.

  Oh, and when in the South be like the Southerners, right? 

  

  So in Atlanta's grand tradition me and Jenna accompanied some friends to Gladys Knights and Ron Winan's Chicken and Waffles.

  We ate what might even define comfort food and listened to some sweet soul music hanging in the air. We talked and laughed. Except of course for the part when our food first arrived and then just a nice, contented silence ensued as we happily dug in; this silence spoke volumes as to just how good the crispy fried chicken, the golden fluffy waffles, the sweet corn muffins all really were. 

  And here's a close up, in case you wondered. 
     How in the world did such a meal as chicken and waffles eaten simultaneously ever come about? Well, what I have heard is that it came about first with the jazz musicians who would gig late into the night or early into the morning, however you want to look at it.  

   When they finished, like most people after a shift of hard, honest work, they were hungry. And because of the time, they didn't know which was more appropriate--breakfast or dinner. So they simply settled on both.

  Chicken and waffles.

  

  And if you ever find yourself in Atlanta, you owe it to yourself to find out just how good a choice it really is.  

you really need me to explain it to you?

   This is just a short post...

    Getting up super early in the morning to get myself to Atlanta.

    Um, a really cold and snowy Atlanta, from what I hear.

    But while reading the few comments on broadway secrets in response to the postcard that I wrote about in this post, one of them made me start to laugh.

    It was in reference to me "singing" while playing Kristine--

   "When I saw the tour when it came near me, the people behind me were like, "She's terrible! How did she ever get cast in a MUSICAL?!"

   That is so funny to me; I guess I am really doing my job.

   And don't worry, the commenter was actually saying some very nice things--they simply couldn't believe some people in the audience  just didn't get it. 

   Maybe they think I lip-sync throughout the rest of the show or something! ;-)