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We’re heading into the home stretch – the show is almost open!  Hurrah!  Then only six more weeks until I go home.  

I’m not complaining.  I’m very grateful for the work.  It’s always nice for an actor to have a gig during the holidays (it means you can afford to buy gifts).  I’ve wanted to work at this theatre for years, and it’s been wonderful so far.  The people, the facility – it’s all very excellent.  [Tangent – theatre people are the best.  I don’t know of any other work place where you can have BIG discussions with people and then go out and work together.  Yesterday, as we were getting ready for the student matinee, we discussed cultural appropriation in the dressing room, and fifteen minutes later, I walked on stage with my fellow actors and a whole new persepctive on appropriating cultural hairstyles. I love having those big, open honest discussions!]  Yet despite all these good things, I am VERY homesick.  

I’m also feeling a bit cursed.  In the past three weeks, I’ve injured my right leg (strained my quad, hamstring, adductor and glute), had a severe chest cold (and I’m still coughing), had the stomach flu and didn’t eat for four days, woke up with an allergy attack one morning (my left eye was swollen shut and I couldn’t breathe), and now my right knee is stiff and both my shoulders have bruises from the shoulder roll I do in fight choreo.  Granted, some of this can be contributed to the fact that I am probably a bit too old now to be playing an elfen child.  But I couldn’t say no to the pointy ears! 

  
In other news, the hunting gods have been very good to us this winter.  Will got a moose tag and a mule deer tag this season.  I went with him for the moose hunt, and he got the moose within the first couple hours of opening day (third largest in the butcher shop that weekend – not that he was trophy hunting; it was just a large bull).  

Funny story – I was in the truck with foster baby and my three-year old niece while Will and my brother-in-law got out to shoot the moose.  I cried when the moose was shot.  They are incredibly majestic creatures, and I watched him with awe as he stood there calmly in the fog, drinking from the slough. He was so beautiful, and so oblivious to the fact that he was about to die (but then again, I suppose we all are).  I wept.  My niece just watched me.  When I finished sniveling, my niece said, “Did you cry after the moose was shot?”  And I replied, “Yes, I did.”  She asked me why, and I said,”Well, I was sad that the moose had to die.”  She was quiet for a moment, obviously contemplating my answer.  Then she said,”Animals have to die if we’re going to eat them.”  Out of the mouth of babes.

Will also got his mule deer on the first day as well.  Our freezer is well stocked with meat for the winter.  Thank you moose and deer.  I am grateful.  

To wrap things up on an “it would be funny if I wasn’t already so homesick” note – despite explicit instructions from me NOT to change or grow while I was gone, foster baby has gone and spoke his first word – Jack.  After weeks, nay MONTHS, of coaching him to say Mama or Dada, his first word is Jack.  Jack is a little boy at his daycare.  I see now where we rank in importance, and I’m only a little bit heart broken.  I’ll get over it.  

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