The Time Things Take

It's very important to me to have a second draft finished the day before a script is due. No stress, I polish first thing in the morning and send. Last week was simply more chaotic than I planned, heavily influenced by a mystery illness that knocked me out and stole my voice for five days. What can I even do about that? Hence I had only written one of two B*rbie episodes by Thursday. I was eager to spring away Friday, rush to a cafe, pound at my keyboard. I was nervous I wouldn't make the 5 PM deadline. But wouldn't you know it? With a caramel glace on the table and my Puhg across from me, the story flowed easily. I'd also set myself up for success with a clear outline. I've also been writing for these characters for two years. I finished the draft, revised, proofed. Submitted five hours early. Brand loved it.

I just don't believe in myself (in some ways). But maybe it's worked to my benefit. It happened again this week. I had a pitch Tuesday and a (small) list of revisions to make beforehand. I couldn't get to it over the weekend and wrung my hands all Monday morning on a return road trip. Finally Monday afternoon I opened the doc, imagining myself staying up all night. I finished everything in two hours. The pitch went great.

First week of my cruise tour, we had a producer from S____ C___ aboard. At a cast lunch in Mexico I asked him how I could be promoted when I got back to land. MB snapped a chip, Bern flipped his baseball cap. The producer kind of stuttered and vaguely answered there are auditions and lists and whatever. The subject was changed. Later MB told me, as we got into pjs in our tiny underwater tomb, "You just asked. You just asked." I still don't understand why it was so awkward. I didn't know! What was I supposed to do? Never find out?

Been so inspired since I watched Rocketman a few days ago. Lately no matter what I try to do, I end up googling Elton John, reading old interviews.

Don't wish it away / don't look at it like it's forever.

Long Days Feel Short

This happened when I worked on the cruise ship too. The more time I had, the shorter days felt. You'd think the opposite. But it's like some defense mechanism kicks in that keeps me from overexerting fruitlessly. I started that contract with TONS of time, three writing blocks a day, zipping around. By the end, I was still productive, but it was typical to sit at breakfast for two hours with my roommate, to take two-hours walks, like that's normal. One episode of TV would last me four hours because there was the snack layout, the watching, the chatting afterward, the sort of sitting there.

It's midnight, and I nearly did my to-do list today, but not all of it. One item was to write this blog. In an entire day where I had one plan and am basically under house arrest, I didn't have a moment until midnight to write in my dumb blog? The day just slipped by. I don't even really watch TV. I guess I look at Twitter a lot since last week. I read. I have napped more days than not.

I think that's fine. I don't need to be my typical hyper-computer of production. For what? Finish this script for all the overwhelmed and work from homes execs to let it rot in their inbox? This play, I will produce it this year, but let's face it, not before July. If we're lucky. So I am at a strange peace.

I am concerned about people's health, I am concerned about the economy and my industry. I am concerned about riots/uprisings. I am naive to how troubled some areas of the country are. But I am not concerned about myself. I will continue to try to do my little part where I can, but I welcome this cocoon.

Ideas to Reality II

When I worked on a cruise ship one of my duties was to lead improv workshops the last day at sea. I liked this gig way better than playing a DVD of old 90s sketches on the first day at sea or being a "celebrity judge" for the dance tournament. For the last few minutes of the workshop we'd (me + whatever castmate I had that week) answer some Q & A. Standard questions about living on a boat, comedy techniques, entertainment careers. Once a woman asked who our favorite comedians were. I think my partner said, like, Gilda Radner or something. I said Lindy West and _____ ____. An essayist and an absolute dream of a writer/performer I saw at SC while I was still living in Arizona. I had written her a fan letter after that show. I don't know if she ever got it.

Two weeks ago I saw Lindy West speak. And the next day, about 16 hours later, I met _____ ____. I had a job interview with her. Isn't that just something? I met my two favorite writers in 24 hours. One meeting I orchestrated (/paid for), and I one I couldn't have if I had tried. And, sure, favorites change, and possibly they morph based on possibility of proximity, but in this case I said into a microphone, three years ago, in the middle of the Caribbean, these two people were my favorites, and it's like some weird seashell summoned them. The truth is nothing is better now.

Other Lives I Am Not Living

On my way home from girl's night with Nep I see a few couples at the Thai restaurant on my block. It's 9:30. They're sitting down to dinner. I understand this is a very city thing. I guess people work late and then maybe go to the gym and then by the time the train has taken them home...

I don't have late dinners, so this is a life I am not leading. I can't imagine a possible fork that would have led me to it either.

Right now I could have been on a cruise ship doing more comedy. I think the itinerary would be taking me up the coast of Canada this week. But I opted out. I guess there was the option of staying in Arizona for that teaching job. But I'm somewhat certain it would have crumbled underneath me. I am more than somewhat certain I would have left for Chicago after a year anyway.

There's the version of me who went to Japan instead of grad school. I think she ends up staying for two years, but I'm not entirely sure what she does for work now.

There is a gritty restaurant hostess in the Bay area with friends who don't like me. And probably a Boston babe who wants to move to Chicago.

I think all the possible Alice's ultimately want the same thing and the ones with enough gumption to have gone for it earlier are scared. The ones who are still waiting are hopeful.

Peru: Amazon River

When I was ten my favorite computer game was Amazon Trail. I paddled down the river fishing for piranhas and snapped photos of capybaras, all the while learning about rubber barons and rosewood oil. In the mid-90s it was my dream to one day travel the Amazon River, but I never thought it would actually happen.

I credit Puhg with everything. While planning Peru, we thought, what the heck, let's go for it. He booked a river tour on a smokin' deal (2 for 1) and THEN we were upgraded to a better boat a day before we left! After bopping around Iquitos, we were connected with our cruise group (of about 35) and taken to our small, luxurious ship. Holy moly. We had a big, beautiful room with a balcony and were served an incredible fresh fish and yucca root lunch. I signed up for a $30 massage to kick off my vacation, and we were given unlimited free drinks! I drank a bunch of snowed fruit juices while Puhg slurped Pisco Sours every day. This was truly one of those once in a lifetime good luck was in our favor experiences.

We spent the next three days taking skiffs through riverbends (sometimes through such thick vegetation our naturalists would have to literally machete through it), into the mouth of where volcanic ash meets water, and to native people's communities. I saw so many new and incredible things--words and photos can't do it justice. (I have said that phrase a lot when recapping this vacation to others.) In between excursions we would return to the boat, take much needed showers, and be stuffed with plantains, fresh avocado, and flans.

My favorite part of the whole trip was the day we ate a small breakfast (wrapped in big palm leaves) on the skiffs and then swam with pink dolphins. The current was strong so only Puhg and I swam out far enough to be near the pinkies. One jumped about ten feet from us. The water was so refreshing and the sun was so warm. My life! Other highlights: a flock of macaws showed their bright bellies to us flying overhead, a bunch of sloths in trees, baby monkeys jumping, a tarantula, mushrooms, anaconda. Simple things amazed me--hundreds of leaf cutter ants across the trail on a hike, our guide teaching us how to heal a tree after cutting it, gigantic lily pads, a cicada as big as a my fist we found in our closet. A giant vibrant sunset our first night, going out into the middle of the jungle and sitting in the frog sounds and snake hisses.

Learning about the Amazon people was so eye-opening. I mean, duh, but I live in a Chicago bubble, and to actually SEE how these simple, happy, tough people live reminded me, for the first and not last time of this trip, how unimportant most of the stuff I worry about is. Our naturalist told us so many stories of how he has seen firsthand the power of nature. Our other guide told us, "There is no stress in the Amazon. No heart attacks. No cancer." I get it.

We went on a canopy walk through a defunct biology base, an empty pool full of bugs. It started to rain. We visited the local healer who blew smoke on us, and although I was a feat for mosquitoes (33 bites in fifteen minutes), I felt something sincere from her ritual.

On our last night's dinner the lights turned off and the kitchen crew started singing. A big chocolate cake made its way to me. I was so shocked, like a birthday girl on television. In the morning, I had my final bowl of quinoa pop and yogurt, we visited a manatee sanctuary, and we were off to Cuzco.

Dream, March 16 2017

I was on the cruise ship again. We were at port. I was on a beach with MB. She was, characteristically, being very social and bouncing about people partying. Someone I know treated me strangely and I asked for advice from a woman walking by. It helped. I went inside a sunken ship. I could not remember who our third female castmate was. I asked MB. She couldn't remember either. We tried everything (rereading emails, asking dancers), but everyone had forgotten.

MB and I went to the bathroom, and when we came out of the stalls we saw a man's face peeking in the door. I froze in fear. MB's instinct was to run after him. In a large, dark room of junk we saw a cabinet door creaking. She walked to it. I wanted to leave. Right as she was about to swing it open the man, middle age and Chinese, walked out. He didn't speak English and pretended he was looking for cleaning supplies.

We discussed him. Maybe he was just waiting to clean the bathroom. Or maybe he was a creep. We would never know. I remembered something in real life that connected to the fake world and woke up suddenly at 5:40. It came to me--there was no third woman on my cast.

Alice in Ship Land: Last Dance, Last Chance for Love

A perfect port day. Aunt P was in Boston and met me at a coffee shop with a sweet outdoor patio for sun-sittin’! We meandered to the contemporary art museum to enjoy shadow plays and photographs. Got some green smoothie, some internet, some phone time. No pangs of urgency getting back aboard. I ate dinner alone at the diner, ordering a hack mish mash of sides to construct lime fish tacos. I wonder what people around me think. “This person dressed in almost pajamas came on a cruise alone and is working very hard to make okay food.” I holed up in the cabin, writing, writing, writing.

Ideally this would be a “FINAL CRUISE! LIVE LIKE WE’RE DYING!” week, but it just wasn’t. I was pretty happy! But, no bucket list items dramatically checked, no wild risks to take, no things I loved so much that the goodbyes would be difficult. In fact, the only thing I could think of even remotely in the “I want to say farewell” category was the flourless chocolate cake served Saturdays at lunch. This week it just wasn’t there. I shrugged my shoulders and chomped a Pop-tart while watching UnReal. I felt like I SHOULD go to Hamilton one more time, and the places I wanted to visit were closed. I ended up eating overpriced avocado rolls and scamming some internet. The highlight was actually the ferry trip itself. Sun, wind, and Final Fantasy on my Spotify. I watched my favorite part of the magician’s act at night, was invited to a cabin party, went for ten minutes, realized I actually had nothing new to say to these people I see every day, and curled up with The Night Of instead. I did make it to Zum Zum class (Zumba rip off) after promising my friend who teaches it for the past month I would. I showed up and danced in the front row since no one else would. I shimmied and chirped when told to. The class was really short. My friend hugged me after and said, “I’m still drunk from last night you have no idea.” #Cruisin

I was productive—writing every day, finishing my solo show, starting new projects, jumping in deep to my next screenplay, reading Sick in the Head, listening to podcasts. I have gotten SO much writing done since February. I got four essays published, finished multiple drafts of my screenplay, made a big fat revision of my musical, started a new play, lesson planned, and wrote a solo show. Most days I wish I had done more, but looking back on what I’ve accomplished while in the middle of the ocean, I think I did alright.

Monday Folds, MB, and I made a trip to St. George with some dancers. A great day beginning with a pleasant ride over, crumpets, and beaching. I got lobstered, but I also swam to a cool rock, and read a lot of Ta-Nehisi Coates (keepin’ it light on vacation! LOL).

I’m very into Dan Harmon right now. I finished Rick and Morty and kind of became obsessed with hearing how this self-proclaimed alcoholic functions. The final days feel strange. I am getting curious about the outside world again because it will be within my grasp soon. I start to have a bit of an irrational fear. I wonder if I will die before my contract ends. Like a “this cop got shot one day before retirement” situation. I think if I voice this silly thought it will melt away. I tell Folds and MB. They tell me it’s likely. “No!” I say over and over. At farewell steakhouse dinner we discuss what we’re excited to get home to. MB adds under her breath, “if you make it.” I explain the bit to the table and Tail, stone face asked, “What do you want done with your cadaver?”

We had a very special gift—our last show ever was our best show ever. Every seat taken. People piling down the staircases. Standing far far away. At least 1,100 very happy people/fire hazards. I got one minuscule catch in my throat as we sang the finale. It was a dream afterall.

MB and I do a bit where she’s my annoyed teenager Penelope, and I’m her divorced mother. She does Soduku and hangs it on the bathroom door pouting, “I just want you to be proud of me!” I respond, “Doing a puzzle doesn’t make you special.” She says, “This is why Dad left.” After the show we were gabbing and changing when she sat down on the bed with wet eyes. “I’m gonna miss you,” she said. We hugged. She sniffed and added in a sullen voice, “I don’t think it was your fault Dad left.”

The last two days expand into infinity.  I start actually counting the hours, but they still don’t pass any quicker. I have exactly one friend from the ship I have made on my own. He's a bar server from St. Lucia--the one who started "Smart Alice." Without much to do, I hang around his post for a solid hour one night. I learn tons about St. Lucia, his life, his plans. It's hard to crack into a real relationship with people you see in passing, with a major cultural divide, sometimes language divide, but I am leaving with one real pal and an open invite to his island anytime.

I see the dancers do their toughest show for the last time, have a Bachelorette viewing party with some of them, visit the crew pool again, pack it all up, sign the paperwork, do the last improv show all together. It's a good one. Everybody has a shining moment. The cast wasn't the cuddliest I have ever worked with, but it was one of the most talented. Tops and professional at that. The debark process is terrible--waiting and waiting and lines and tired and we don't even say goodbye is the truth of it. We all go through immigration at different times and in a puff of engine smoke it's over.

My bus to Maine is twice delayed. 7 hours. Arriving at 11 PM. A meth head sits behind me and the driver is an angry, jerky driver. I throw up in the bathroom. Of a Greyhound. I can't believe I'm not going back. I arrive at my next gig so late, so hungry, on a rabid hunt for food. Everything is closed so gas station burritos will have to do. I don't mind. There's something wonderful about it all. The harsh bright lights, the aisles. I am free. I am different and free.

Alice in Shipland: Tough Go

-room toilet broken (flooding, even...daily)

-computer broken (since Monday, typing on my phone)

-spirit broken

Updates soon.

Alice in Ship Land: Ahoy Family

This was a special week because my mom and aunt were on board! They booked a cruise for a relaxing vacation and, of course, to witness me firsthand entertaining the masses.

A Sr. lives her best self 

These updates will be getting less exciting seeing as I will have significantly fewer new experiences each time I repeat the exact same itinerary. I am in Middle America Vacation Groundhog Day.

Some highlights of my fourth cruise in the Western Caribbean:

-walking around Belize with my family while we all drank out of coconuts a dude hacked up right in front of us, shavings flying wildly

-my cast taking advantage of Mom and Aunt’s dining package, getting to dine at the “fancy”* Italian restaurant with unlimited apps and ‘zerts!

-my aunt winning the spa lottery on Sunday and booking an hour massage for me! I live on a cruise and somehow the masseuse told me, “You are incredibly tense. Especially your calves.”

-Over two scones, ZPill and I contemplated how greatness happens. His metaphor is there is a huge dogpile of humans, and one finally stands on top, making the best thing. But, that person couldn’t be there without stepping on a million other people. My idea is societal needs show up as big holes, and we all create rubber band balls of our experiences. Sometimes because of who we are and what we have, our ball is too big or too small and either slides through the gap or rambles over it. But someone out there creates something just right that gets lodged in place. That’s greatness.

-drinking a peanut butter latte on a porch in Cozumel

-I’ve been wearing my pearls and my pearl shimmer lip-gloss a lot. At the pool is Costa Maya my cast tells me I look like a Kennedy.

-ZPill and I walk down a hall on Deck 6. A girl whispers as we pass, “That girl is so funny!” ZPill turns and smiles at me, says, “I just love getting compliments.”

-I’ve finally started wearing my jean shorts. I’ve been avoiding them because sweatshorts are also a thing. Everyone comments as they see me, “New shorts?” We all know every outfit.

-serving as a “celebrity judge” of the dance off competition for the first time. An old man won mainly because he successfully executed the lift in the Dirty Dancing number.

-wearing my new chocolate perfume on show night. MB asked me if I was eating a brownie every time I went offstage because when we passed each other in the dark I reeked of cocoa.

-the night the cast passed one slice of pie around the single we all crammed into, the night ZPill was sad and wrapped an éclair into a pizza slice and ate all of it

-the time I locked myself out of my room and couldn't get to my laundry for hours--when I arrived in the facility, it was all out of the dryer and folded

Another note: Very consistently I am finding when men come and talk to me after shows they talk about their own experiences. Ex: how much they like SNL, their favorite sketch, the work training they did once with improv, their college theatre group. Women ask a lot of questions. They rarely think to mention anything about themselves besides the initial "I enjoyed the show." Then they launch in to learning. So far, there are no exceptions to this rule.

*still on a cruise ship

Alice in Ship Land: Week Three

-Sunday was frightening. Suddenly, the ship went from average age of cruiser 65 to 22. Spring Break is here and the swarms of college kids have descended upon us. There were so many bikini-bods holding pink frosty cups running around the pool deck. This is a new era. MB and I holed up in our cabin putting on face masks and eating the wasabi peas from crew mart.

-A few of us went to a sit-down restaurant one night, and I realized just how blasé I feel about ship life suddenly. A photographer asked if I would get up from my seat to pose for a photo and I just honked, “No.”

-This go ‘round in Cozumel I had the major urge to find a donut. I hadn’t had a donut in almost a month. Tuesday morning I got a major bee in my bonnet and was determined to find one. I Yelped around on pirated Wi-Fi until I found a bakery a mile up the coast. My gang wanted to visit the cemetery, so I conceded to that stop. It was colorful and kind of cute with wild lizards roaming about.

-Finally we got to this hot room full of pastries. I bought a cheese pocket and a sugar donut. I ate them with spiced ice coffee. We meandered and I felt the fuss creeping up in all of us. Only three weeks in and irritability rises. MB and ZPill want stuffed peppers. I wonder if I should go on my own for a bit. I am right on the edge of saying “I’ll leave you here,” but I don’t. I sit down in the restaurant and the clouds open. It pours.

-Tuesday night I was in the library trying not be distracted by the pack of middle schoolers who were lounging on the couches when Bril came rushing in and told me we had a show in half an hour. The seas were rocky, so it wasn’t safe for the aerialists to perform. I zipped up my stuff, ate four bites of a calzone, and rushed to get into costume. My hair was in knotty braided pigtails, but no time for curling iron. I slapped on lipstick and sped through the finale song. There were a lot of drunk frat boys, but it’s good to have a challenge. Every audience shouldn’t be good. Then I’m not getting all I should be out of this job.

-My eating has taken a bit of a tumble this week. I’ve had late night pizza three nights of the week. ZPill explained it well, “At home there’s the difficulty of getting junk food at night and a financial drawback. Here it’s like ‘Oh, do you have sixty seconds?’”

-Beach day in Roatan. Frazzled ship exit. Security telling me I couldn’t get off the ship, my roommate already off and calling from the gangway, finding a cab, paying for the beach, but finally we were there. The sand was soft as silk under my toes. The ocean warm and welcoming. The sun drying my hair in minutes. I drank out of a coconut and answered emails about an essay I am publishing in spring.

-Once a month the spa is open for crew. The hot tub is splashy in the rough waters. I take off my suit and wear a towel in the relaxation room. Ah.

-I finally set foot in Belize. It’s the hardest port for crew to get to because passengers clog the exits for hours. We take a tour with a woman who has never known another home. She tells us about the culture and her life from inside her car. The south side is broken, the north side corrupt. I drink lime juice and eat a grilled conch from lunch. Plus plantains. Oh plantains! I ask about feminism. She tells me men used to say “Jump” and they’d ask “how high?” Now, men say jump and the women climb.

-We rehearse, he have long lingering dinner, we do our show, late night cheesecake, the first upset, the patching it up, the sleep. The glorious sleep of being in the belly of the sea.

-Our “family friendly” show. Woof. It was my first time hosting and thirty seconds in a spring breaker screamed “gynecologist” at me. I did make two horrible puns and got literally boo’d by hundreds of people, but my third joke was pretty good, and I was cheered like Rudy.

-It took me two weeks to do a total revision of my musical. Cheers to the ship library. When MB wants to find me she walks in, says deadpan, “You’re so hard to find.”

-During the Murder Mystery the audience participates in questioning the perp (me). A big ol’ southern boy asked for my number in the middle of the show.
-The adult show was BONKERS. There were hundreds of people packed into the bar. Our perfect demographic. Afterwards the high fives were endless. A girl came up to me on the dance floor and said she loved us and when she turned around and thought I couldn’t hear: “Y’all, my heart is beating so fast!” The truth is, we’re good, but we don’t warrant this kind of affection. But, still, it’s a fun experience for a week at a time.

Alice in Shipland: One Week Down

Some things that have happened so far:

-In the middle of the week the producer took the cast out to a fancy French Bistro on board with SC footing the bill. I ordered four desserts.

-We have to wear Britney mics for our shows.

-I made friends with a guy from Albania during lifeboat drill.

-I accidentally fell asleep in a deck chair for twenty minutes on the first day at sea, and my right leg only got sunburned.

-In Mexico my roommate and I went to Cozumel Kmart for “essentials.” I bought a Hello Kitty pillow for my bed.

-I sleep on the top bunk, which is like a soft coffin. The ceiling is right in my face, but the room is pitch black at night, and the boat rocks me to sleep. Pictures of my friends surround me. And now I cuddle Hello Kitty’s fat face.

-The social dynamic within the cast is so specific to this experience. I don’t know some basic facts about most of my crew, but if something personal sprouts in the conversation everyone pretty much goes there because, well, we’re going to be together on this floating rock, so there’s no use hiding.

-Anxieties I haven’t felt since high school have reared their heads. I worry no one likes me.  Or I like everyone too much. In the wide world, none of that matters, but in ship world where there are SIX OF US, it can be scary. I have more empathy for people from small towns and the emotional turmoil that must entail.

-Crew bar is very cheap and very friendly. Everyone goes and hangs out there late into the night. One night the bar was moved from under the ship to above the pool deck. The wind was whipping so hard my hair grew a dreadlock, but I was outside in February, in shorts, laughing with new people, zooming over the ocean at 1 AM. Not too bad.

-Things felt a little weird until our first show. I don’t do well sitting in situations where my purpose has not been revealed yet. The sketch show—while a typical canon of safe and family friendly jokey joke scenes—felt huge. Hundreds of people were hooting at us. Surreal.

-I am nobody until show night, and then I am a mini-celebrity. Especially if a couple or more of us are walking through the pool deck, passengers smile and wave.

-In real life I listen to Spotify for all my music needs, which means I’m usually pumping whatever tunes have recently caught my ear. Now I am alone with my iPod that hasn’t been updated since college. I run the track above the food court and remember all of the albums that meant so much to me at a very different time.

-I love my roommate MB. I missed female sounding boards when I left Arizona, and I feel like the world plopped this queer tiny room with two people situation into my lap as a response. We slap on pjs and girl talk into the dark tiled void.

-I like the rest of the cast too--including the producer and director who were on board for the first week. Some highlights include doing magic tricks and playing late night celebrity in a conference room, sitting in the swanky Star Bar after our first show, rehearsing a murder mystery in a restaurant alcove.

-Once a week I visit port in New Orleans, which is where I write this now. I have felt fidgety a few times, maybe fussy, but back on land perspective flows easily, and I am so looking forward to the rest of this adventure.

Things I'd Like If I Were Very Rich

If I were very very rich, I wouldn't quit working, and I wouldn't want a fancy sports car. I probably wouldn't want any car still. I would go on some trips, but I wouldn't disappear and travel for a month right now. Not when there's so much happening. If I were very rich, this is what I'd want:

-a daily massage
-to take more cabs
-to have a room for a treadmill and yoga mats
-to join the fanciest gym classes
-court-side seats to the Bulls
-a plethora of Subway gift cards in my pockets for all the hungry people
-a big fancy shower
-a hot tub, or easy access to one
-to turn up the heat about two more degrees
-a standing cruise vacation with all my friends
-Shirley Temples at every comedy show forever and ever

My Sister's Day Today

It's my sister's birthday. In honor, my favorite memory of her this past year:

I'd never seen a James Bond movie before, but I'd heard Skyfall was excellent. It was showing on the cruise, part of the "Movies Under the Stars" program. There was a giant screen above the pool on the top deck of the ship. A movie played every night. Popcorn was made, hot cocoa stand. The title was accurate. The stars were visible right above, just beyond the film. Glaciers slinked past. Sounds gorgeous, but it was also ALASKA AT NIGHT--read: face freezin' off.

Yet, my sister, even though she'd already seen the movie, gave in to my pleading to go. We joined the eight other people on deck chairs, piled on the blankets, pulled our hoods up. I brought us a plate of all the desserts and fancy cheeses offered in the buffet. She a book. "I can't feel my toes," she said forty minutes in. I puppy dog faced her. She pulled her hood in tighter and kept reading. Periodically I'd interrupt to ask a question about Judy Dench or something. We laughed a lot. We shivered. The double chocolate cookies were the best. "This movie is longer than I remembered," she garbled into her scarf. The credits rolled, we discussed the best parts, we shuffled our Uggs to our cabin.

Cruise Happenings in No Particular Order

The very first night of the cruise, we boarded, moved into our cabin, headed to dinner, went through a safety training, and then Safe Haven was playing on a giant outdoor screen above the upper deck pool. It was 40ish degrees out, but for some reason I really wanted to see this stupid movie.  I cuddled under some blankets with a mug of cocoa and watched the mountains float by.

Pookie watchin' sea lions.

-Zumba with (as far as I can tell) all the Koreans on the boat. Koreans love Zumba? One day I persuaded my mom and sister to come. It was the day there was a routine to "Gangnam Style," and what I wouldn't give for some video evidence of that five minutes of my life.

-Attending and regretting an event called "Pastry Extraveganza." It sounds as wonderful and horrible as you might imagine.

-Spending time at a window desk in a teeny "Writing Room"! Writin' plays 'n' stuff! My thesis--she's in full swing.

-Magic show! Saw lady get sawed in half and levitate.

-Laying on a hot rock in the spa while the boat hit some choppy waters. Being swayed on a relaxation stone--not bad.

-Goat cheese souffle. Fresh papaya. Oh, hi, mushroom gnocchi.

-Seeing lots of rad wildlife: caribou, moose, bear, whales, sea lions.

-Glaciers chunking off. They are bluer than you think.
-The wilderness of Liarsville, flannel dudes playin' guitar.
-Walking the top deck while the boat went full speed ahead toward Vancouver, my sister and I nearly flew off into the ocean, carried by blasting icy winds. I yelled, "I'M KING OF THE WORLD."

I was happy to come home--no more pants please--but I am also very happy I went. Coming home is nice:

Hill's doing.

Flowahs from my dude.

You're here. There's nothing I fear.