2008: A Year of Tears in Review

I figure I should probably do this. It is not very interesting. OBAMA!

January

This month is notable because Dice and I spent the bulk of it singing Timbaland’s “The Way I Are” to each other.

February

What a month! Tucker Max had a bachelorette auction, and shockingly, someone paid money for me. Also, I wore a really awesome dress. It involved fringe. Tucker Max was doing so specifically to raise money for DSIF, which we closed out the month by attending. It was fun. We had good barbeque and political discussions. And Basic Eight did a show that included scenes involving a Mystery Flavored Dum-Dum and a gay club that Mary Beth still talks about. The Movie finishes its run at iO, sadly. Shit goes down at work, and I cry a lot.

March

My Harold team Swoon is cut and then, I am cut. I cry in the box office while eating a Power Bar. I am put on the Rabble. Birthdays were celebrated this month, including Amy’s, which was marked by Christopher making the biggest pot of chili known to man. I run the Shamrock Shuffle, after never having run more than two miles continuously in my life. And my time is nothing to sneeze at either.

April

I am sure something exciting happened this month, but I cannot remember what that could possibly be. I don't go home for Easter; my mother and I cry copiously over this. I spend the holiday with the Basic Eight instead. We enjoy Celebrity.

May

I traveled for the first time ever for work. I went to scenic Virginia. It was boring. I aced my Manville training and test though, I will tell you. I am glad I traveled approximately 800 miles to do so. Also, my mama has her birthday and Baby Daniel turns the big 1.

June

I am sure something interesting happened this month, but it’s mostly been edited for content.

July

The 4th of July! The Riot has a fun party at the Playground for which the Basic Eight recreates The Crucible. I see John Mayer in concert for the third time, and I think I walk away a better human being for having seen him play Van Halen’s “Panama” sans shirt.

August

A busy month. I go home for a week before and after the Del Close marathon, which results in me getting pictures with Baby Daniel in my Mythbusters shirt. Also, my mom and sister get to see me improvise. Tigers tear it up at Del Close. Michael Phelps, who I have followed for the past eight years, wins eight gold medals, and I think I can die happy. Alexander de Pate, on the other hand, does not win gold. But is still my favorite diver. I run Race Judicata just to prove I still can run. I also watch the Democratic National Convention and weep with pride for New Jersey, and for Barack Obama, and even Hillary Clinton.

September

Shit gets real this month. Lauren gets into her accident. Other crap that has been edited for content happens. I exit the month of September ten pounds lighter, more than slightly sleep deprived, and prone to tears.

October

The Halloween show opens and it gives me great joy to share the stage with Dice and all five of his polo shirts every week. And I sing! A line! On stage! That never happened before – they cut my solo in my high school production of “Bye Bye Birdie.” (Seriously. They made it an ensemble piece.) I also begin volunteering for Barack Obama’s campaign, canvassing in Indiana and Michigan and phone banking whenever possible. I have never volunteered for an individual politician before. And I come from a political family. [of Republicans.] That is how firmly I believe.

November

Obviously, I am proud to vote and see Obama elected and spend Election Night in Grant Park. I can say without hyperbole that it is one of the most amazing days of my life. Everyone is talking about it; we know. It’s history. We saw it. It is the most special thing to happen all year.
Unrelated to that magic though: The Rabble is cut. It is very sad. I am put on a new team. I go home for Thanksgiving; dinner is transported in a red wagon.

December

We stepped into Christmas and Basic Eight started working on our first written show. My sister celebrates her birthday. Baby Tommy Hennessy was born and Auntie Rose passed away at 92. Mike Click was finally absolved of the Justin Timberlake incident. RBG has an amazing first show, through no fault of my own. And overall? Things are looking better. Much better.

Incidentally, my horoscope this week said that "2009 will be more joyful and less tearful than 2008." I am not making that up. And I think it will be.

2009 will be just fine. Fingers crossed.

Christmas Comedy of Errors (parts five through ten)

Christmas is a completely different experience when there is a child involved. I don't have a baby, and yeah, Christmas is always about the Baby Jesus away in a manger with no crib for a bed, but I am talking an actual child. Physically with you. Taking your hand in his little paw and leading you to his playroom so he can throw balls at your head.

As you may have already gleamed, I know a baby. He is the most precious angel baby ever in the whole wide world. (And tomorrow, he will be a big brother.)

Also, this baby is eighteen months old, and so, naturally, he is terrified of Santa.

Now, this baby belongs to my cousin. My aunt and other cousin are on the first aid squad in town. My town has a tradition -- the families of the volunteers receive a personal visit from Santa on Christmas Eve. So, as a result, the most precious baby ever came face to face with his worst fear.

When Santa arrived in an ambulance.

Keep in mind, please, my cousin's wife fell down the stairs and broke her ankle not a week ago. So my aunt ran right away and got the ambulance. I am sure there is a bad association somewhere here.

Fortunately, Baby Daniel did not see Santa arrive in the ambulance -- he just saw him coming up the steps and tried to make a run for it. Luckily, his mommy got a pretty good grip on him from her wheelchair. Poor little guy screamed his way through Santa's visit, until presented with a Wow Wow Wubbzy, which he proceeded to cling to throughout dinner. Things brightened up when the entire family sang Christmas carols solely for the baby's amusement, and he was further presented with a) Jell-O and b) several other Wow Wow Wubbzys, a tent and ball crawl combination, and a pile of foam balls. He was in hog heaven. So much so that it became a debacle actually trying to put him to bed.

Children. They're what Christmas is all about, am I right?

On Christmas Day, we do not have the luxury of a baby to drive conversation and create jolly sing-a-longs. Said baby has to go to his other grandma's house. So it is just my mom and sister and I, and my aunt, uncle, and other cousin. This is fine too, because it gave an opening for the political discussion I have been hankerin' for since November 4th.

Luckily, I got it. (I might have been asking for it when I listed our new president amongst the things I am grateful for during grace.) Unfortunately, because my extended family are all very conservative Republicans, this conversation really leaned more towards how children in urban areas do not deserve an equal education and how people who are not born in America do not deserve jobs in America. (These thoughts are not reflective of my own.) My uncle, being really a fair and just man (who admitted several times to watching MSNBC, which, really, I consider to be one of my Christmas gifts) said repeatedly that he hopes the best for the Obama administration, because the country is in a heap of trouble and someone has to get us out. My cousin, on the other hand, announced to the table that she knows Sarah Palin will be the one to fix all the country's troubles in 2012. Oh, how I laughed. And ran out of the room to relay this message via text to all my friends. (Curt's response: "How, with her talk show?")

Of course, the conversation wasn't really given to singing the praises of Barack Obama, because whenever his name was mentioned, my cousin immediately brought up Blagojevich and how he has marred Chicago politicians. My cousin also wanted to talk primarily about how we need to work to get our own education and no one ever got anywhere from receiving handouts. I introduced her to the kettle. (Kara's response: "Throw a drink in her face. Your family will talk about it for years.") I personally found it difficult to have a conversation when I was simply being preached at, but found it generally delightful to have the firsthand opportunity to see something I thought only existed in stories. Like a unicorn!

The conversation soon turned to the possibility of our neighbors poisoning all the neighborhood cats, and my mother and sister and I soon got the house to ourselves to watch the best of General Hospitals past. I am looking forward to tomorrow, when I will have two babies to spoil, and to hope that they will get every possible opportunity due to them. Because they are white middle-class American-born boys. (Maybe. It could be a girl. We don't know.)

Merry Christmas, everyone. And Whatever Higher Power You Choose To Believe In bless us, everyone.

Christmas Comedy of Errors (Parts 2 through 4)

I am annoyed at United. I have to check a bag, which is going to cost me 12 bones. I did not want to do this, but I have been forced to thanks to a Christmas miracle involving the refund for my company Christmas present being exactly the same amount as what my cousin asked for in the Christmas grab bag. Exactly. Thus, I am hauling home something that rhymes with Firt Fevil (do not open till December 25th!) and as a result, have to bring home my HUGE suitcase, because it is the only one it fits into.

I was considering bringing a smaller bag in my HUGE suitcase and using that to go back to Chicago, since I do not expect any large gifts this year, since everyone knows I travel and buys me gift cards. Then I remembered I am using my HUGE suitcase as a makeshift dresser, since the untimely demise of my own. On a side note, it is impossible to buy a new dresser if you don't have a car. So, you know...that happened.

My mother keeps telling me to bring the Firt Fevil (shhh!) on as a carry-on, but then I still have to check a bag, or otherwise I don't, you know, bring clothes with me. Any solutions to this would be appreciated. Actually, no, since I already paid the twelve dollars to check the stupid Dirt Devil.

* * *

My co-workers and I all got our supervisor a Starbucks gift card. The woman drinks a huge cup of non-fat chai tea everyday. It is the only thing we see her consume. It is actually a thoughtful gift.

We decided to present the gift card collectively after our morning meeting. One co-worker sent out an e-mail to meet at her cubicle, so we all headed over there. Except for one. Who was on a personal call. So we waited. And waited. And stood around and chatted. Finally, my supervisor came out of her office and said, "Why is everyone standing around and talking?" One co-worker said with a sigh, "Just give it to her now." Some presentation.

* * *

I made a million cookies for Tucker Max and Reggie, our concierge, who told me not to waste my time on boys who are no good for me. Reggie is healing. Unfortunately, Tucker Max cancelled rehearsal and Reggie is on vacation this week. So I have a million cookies.

Christmas Comedy of Errors (part 1)

My cousin's wife will be bearing the new Hennessy child in a couple weeks (I keep hoping that child will decide s/he would rather meet me than be born on his/her due date, seeing as how Tina was the size of 36 weeks when she was 32 weeks.)

That all said, my cousin's wife decided the best possible thing for her to do on a Saturday afternoon two weeks before her due date would be to fall down a flight of stairs.

THE BABY IS FINE. EVERYONE CALM DOWN.

My cousin acted on instinct, and did the obvious thing for one to do when your massively pregnant wife falls down the stairs -- and he called his parents and asked them what he should do. Fortunately for him, my aunt is a member of the first aid squad.

My aunt said, "Hold on!" and ran and got the town's ambulance and drove it right over to my cousin's. My mother said she saw my aunt driving the ambulance on the way to the hospital, sirens blaring. My mom said it was obvious it was my aunt -- you can't miss the white hair. My aunt proudly said she made it to the hospital in no time.

My cousin's wife is fine, except for being cranky that they don't really give you painkillers when you're nine months pregnant. Also, that she'll be having a newborn while she has a broken ankle for four weeks minimum (and that's if she doesn't go into labor early.) And also that she is frequently trapped in the recliner when my family surrounds her for town political discussions.

Thanksgiving Recap, Three Weeks Later.

I went home for Thanksgiving. (See below.)

I have been looking forward to Thanksgiving for quite some time, as I come from a family of Republicans. My mother and sister aren't, but the extended family -- aunt and uncles and cousins -- are extremely right-wing. I have sat through many a political "discussion" that basically boiled down to a list of what the Democrats were doing to ruin this country, and which Republicans could help.

Naturally, given our triumphant victory with Obama's election, I was excited to finally having something to gloat about. My aunt had been grumbling for some time prior to the election about my volunteer work, and my mother was obviously not repeating all the really wonderful stuff she had to say. So, elevated by Obama's win, I cracked my knuckles and packed all my Obama paraphernalia.

My aunt, however, had different plans. She immediately changed plans so that Thanksgiving was held at my cousin's house instead, using the Best Baby on the Planet as an excuse. My cousin's very pregnant wife would not be responsible for cooking -- my aunt would do all that. (It should be noted here that my cousin lives across the street from my aunt and uncle.) It was simply safer for the Best Baby on the Planet. Okay. Fine.

We arrived to Thanksgiving to find my uncle pulling the feast across the street in the Best Baby on the Planet's little red wagon.

Seriously.

Words don't really do this justice, and unfortunately, I am at work, so I will upload pictures later. Trust me: there was a great discussion as to how to best set the turkey in a wagon.

Once dinner had been transported across the street, my aunt set to work reheating and organizing and serving. My aunt, it should be noted, was a little ill coming into this. So by the time dinner was set out on the table, my aunt was exhausted, and acting a little off. This made me feel guilty about starting a political discussion -- you can't really declare victory when your opponent is feigning insanity to avoid you, it's just not fair -- so I talked with my uncle about the Pilgrims' original settlement. Of course, the bulk of my information came from the Charlie Brown Thanksgiving special.

And then my sister and I played ball with the Best Baby on the Planet. What a handsome guy! Again, words do this no justice.

Politically, it was a disappointing holiday though. But I am still holding out hope for Christmas.