Category Archives: updates

1. Mr. Squab’s car gets hit by an asshole.

2. On inspection, bodyshop person says we “wouldn’t even want to see” the estimate for fixing it, and she wouldn’t recommend driving it with the baby in the car because “if anyone rear ends you again, there’s nothing to protect you from the back.” Try to quash lurid visions of Hummer or similar vehicle crushing the back of the car with Hatchling in the rear seat.

3. My car = slowly dying. Will not currently go over 45 mph, and is starting to have trouble with upward inclines. Suspect will not want to see the estimate for fixing that, either.

4. Show! Opens! Tonight!

5. Have been pulling 18 hour days, where schedule goes something like: get up, feed Hatchling, put Hatchling down for nap, take shower, eat breakfast, Hatchling up, feed her lunch, run errands for show/us, put Hatchling down for second nap, eat lunch myself, respond to production-related emails/phone calls, Hatchling up, run more errands for show/us, get home, put stuff away, feed Hatchling dinner, Mr. Squab home, dash out the door to the theatre, rehearse for 5+ hours, come home, eat bowl of cereal in lieu of healthy dinner at normal time, work on program notes/sound cues/props until around 1:30 am, go the hell to bed, start over again at 6:15am.

6. Mr. Squab finds good deal on used Honda, buys it. The good part: fully functional car is whole new experience for us. Did you know that you can actually SEE to drive at night with decent headlights? The bad part: making large purchases and going into debt makes Mr. Squab feel like he wants to barf.

7. Got call yesterday that one of my lead actors has to withdraw from the show due to health reasons (mono + complications). Frantically recast the role and shuffle around schedule to accomodate extra rehearsal time for new actor. Did I mention we open TONIGHT?

8. Playwright is coming to stay with us this weekend. House is complete pit.

I could go on, but you get the general idea. I’ll post the monthly letter when I get a chance. Meanwhile, does anyone have a vat of valium they’d like to share?

Last night at about 2:00 in the morning, Mr. Squab sat straight up in bed from a dead sleep and listened vehemently. (Yes, you can listen vehemently. He did.) I was in the middle of a weird dream that I can’t remember now, so I hadn’t heard anything, but something had woken him up. It didn’t continue, though, so we went back to sleep.

This morning, when Mr. Squab went to leave for work, he discovered what the noise had been: some asshole side-swiped the car last night and took off. It’s not totalled, thank goodness, but the rear bumper is trashed, the rear driver’s side tail-light is smashed, and there are big old dents all along that side of the car. To quote Mr. Squab: goddamn sonovabitch. If it had been MY car, this would have not been a huge deal – it’s on its last legs anyway, and we’d figure, well, OK, time to get a replacement. But Mr. Squab’s car is (was?) supposed to last us a good bit longer. Since we only have liability insurance, any repairs will be out of our pocket, and you know how expensive bodywork gets. So: Yay! Good Times!

On a positive note, it’s tech week this week for my show, and things are coming together so smoothly (knock wood) that we’re all kind of waiting for the other shoe to drop. (For those of you unacquainted with the world of teensy budget professional theatre, tech week usually equals extreme stress and aggravation.) I guess if I had to choose, I’d kind of rather deal with a broken car than a broken show (sorry, Mr. Squab), so I’m feeling pretty good. Er … I mean, DAMMIT, FATE! YOU GOT ME AGAIN! I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE! PLEEEEEEEEEASE DON’T THROW ME IN THAT BRIAR PATCH!

Right. Jinx averted. Coming soon: my review of 300, aka the WORST movie I’ve seen in living memory. Oy.

The Hatchling appears to be MUCH better today. She hasn’t puked once, and she’s kept down several varieties of liquid and even some apple-banana cereal. Thank the sweet lord, because yesterday she was really so pathetic I almost couldn’t take it. Of course, the doctor warned us that she may have a few ups and downs before this virus works itself out of her system, but at least she’s getting (and keeping) some nourishment today.

Mr. Squab, on the other hand, isn’t feeling so fine. After having to call me home early from rehearsal last night because the Hatchling just would not stop crying (of course she calmed down about a minute before I walked in the door, the little bugger), Mr. Squab woke up this morning with a serious case of gut-rot. He actually called in sick to work, an occurence that has happened maybe once before in the 8 years that we’ve been together, and has been lying on his recliner, covered in blankets, watching reruns of Law and Order all day. Poor thing.

Of course you realize this means I’m probably next. Anyone know any protective incantations I should be doing? Deities I should be sacrificing to? I canNOT afford to get sick right now.

Well, drat. The Hatchling seemed a lot better yesterday, but then last evening she started feeling crummier again, and this morning she is utterly wobegone. Threw up in her bed last night, which of course we didn’t find until this morning, and had an exploding diaper that went all the way up her back and resulted in an impromptu early morning bath to get her cleaned up. She’s listless, can’t keep anything down (again), and all she wants to do is be rocked. Which I’m happy to do, only that doesn’t help so much with keeping her hydrated, which is beginning to be a concern. So we’re off to the doctor later this morning. Here’s hoping he can help!

Well, we seem to be emerging from the vomitorium. It was a looooong night, but the Hatchling is now managing to keep down boobie-milk (tata-latte?), pedialyte, and plain rice cereal. We’re not pushing it any farther than that today. She’s taking extra long naps and is still a little cranky from not feeling good, but overall she’s doing much better. Thanks for all the good thoughts and offers of help and crack cocaine. We’ll take a raincheck on that last one.

My chest cold: still present, though getting *slightly* better. I still sound like an asthmatic walrus when I’m sleeping, so that’s fun for Mr. Squab. But the BEST part is that I gave the cold to the Hatchling, despite all the hand washing and Purell-ing I’ve been doing since I got sick. I tell you what, there’s nothing like having your baby wake up screaming at midnight with a fever of 103.5 to really get you alert. A swift dose of Tylenol got the fever down, but the poor baby just feels so wretched, and there’s not much we can do to make her feel better. AND I’m late with her monthly newsletter, AND I have literally no clean underwear, AND why does it have to be stinkin Monday tomorrow?

In case you’re wondering, yes, I would like some cheese with my whine.

I have a chest cold. It sucks. I sound like a lifelong smoker.

Posting will be light.