The end is nigh! I got super busy towards the end of the year, here, so I did some major slacking at blogging, so I am going to take advantage of my slower week coming up and try to clear out some things that I've been wanting to blog. Also, I've really enjoyed being on Twitter this year (although it does force me sometimes into a spiral of insecurity, which is exactly why I am not on Facebook, so sometimes I want to cancel my account), so if you want to read my one-liners and see photos of cats and the cocktails I make at home, you can do so here.
December 2013 Archives
In July of 2002, the world's best improv team, KOKO, was formed. The following December, we held the first annual KOKO Christmas gift exhange. The group went through many changes over the years, such as 3 people leaving the team, but the 5 of us that remained went on to be stronger and better than ever. The core group of KOKO is an amazing group--my best friends and the most talented people I know. Though it is rare that we perform (we didn't perform together for about 5 years, but had a brief reunion show in the middle of a snowstorm earlier in 2013), the tradition of KOKO Christmas is an important one. We've never missed a year. It's also the one time in the year we get to see Jane Menendez, RN, so it's a tradition we have to continue til the end of time.
This year's KOKO Christmas was amazing, and the gifts exchanged were thoughtful, sweet, and special--just like the KOKOs.
I love you guys!
(Front row: Megan Hovde, Andrea Strening Back row: Jane Menendez, RN, yours truly, Rebecca Hanson)
And for funsies, here's 2 throwback photos from our famous pool shoot from February 2005 (photos by Fuzzy!)
Check out this rhino. Oh yeah, and some animal in the background.
Fuzzy and I are lucky enough to have central air and heating in our apartment, which is fairly uncommon here in a city full of radiators and window units. What this means each fall/winter (in addition to an increased electricity bill) is that we become second bananas to the floor heat vents for our cats.
Latte started doing this thing where she would sit really close to the wall, facing it, letting the hot air blow on her face. I don't have a great photo of it, but it was really silly.
And she was doing it a LOT.
One day, Fuzzy said "We should put some art there for her to look at."
So I did.
She loved it!
She can think about art for hours.
(these photos are all from different days.)
One day, I noticed that we had a new clientele!
Turns out, Parker is ALSO a fan of art!
One day, when I got home from rehearsal, I saw that Fuzzy had installed a new exhibit.
Parker heard of the new exhibit and had to check it out!
She loved it!
I wonder when the next exhibit will be installed!
This is belated, and he is in Zambia right now, but it is my brother's birthday today!
Feelin' like Heaven at Thirty-Seven!
Happy Birthday, Christopher!
Please enjoy this clip from the December SNORF show, featuring the amazing original song "Chimney Sweeps."
London, Christmas Eve, 1892, a rooftop.
Lyrics by Stephen Winchell
Music by Stephen Winchell and Noah Ginex
Father: Adam McAleavey
Daughter: Amanda Rountree
Chimney Sweep 1/Jingle Bells: Stephen Winchell
Chimney Sweep 2/Banjo: Noah Ginex
Chimney Sweep 3/Saxophone: Sam Locke
Videography by Fuzzy Gerdes
Directed by Erica Reid
Tech: Sarah Gilmore
For More Fun and info about our show, www.thesnorfshow.com
There's something that I've noticed both in myself and in others, and it is that dancers (while generally very sleek and fashionable) before and after class or rehearsal, turn into hobos. We put on our dance clothes--our tights, leotards, sweaters, then we layer on sweatpants, sweatshirts, stocking caps. We wear big chunky boots. Especially in the winter--all attempts of cute outerwear are off.
That was me yesterday. I had on my tank top, long sleeved tech top, dance pants and tech socks. Then I layered knee high socks, sweatpants, an old sweatshirt and a knit cap over that. Then added my giant down sleeping bag coat and mittens. It inspired this tweet:
It's imperative that when going to a dance class or rehearsal in winter that you Dress Like a Hobo over your dance clothes.-- Erica Reid (@drunkmonkeyshow) December 9, 2013
One of the shows that I am working on right now is in a suburb that is about 40 minutes away. In rush hour traffic, however, it can take up to an hour and 45 minutes. The director gave me her insider info on the best way to get there, and it worked wonders last night in getting me there in just about an hour.
I have a hard time eating before a rehearsal--it's the same as a race. You don't want anything heavy that can upset your stomach, but you don't want to work on an empty stomach. I didn't eat enough before I left yesterday, so I had a granola bar and some water in the car. As I was approaching the rehearsal space, I realized that I was super hungry and also had to pee. Luckily for me, I saw a Panera. I pulled over and parked.
I went into the Panera and saw all the options of bagels. Bagels are perfect pre-rehearsal foods! I picked an everything bagel, and ordered it plain, untoasted, unsliced. The total was $1.14. The employee asked if I had a Panera preferred card, and I told her I did not. She gave me a discount anyways. The total was $1.08.
I pulled out my wallet, and got out a dollar. The one I pulled out happened to be torn in half and taped back together. I got out 8 cents. After I paid, I then beelined it to the bathroom. When I left, I thanked the employee, who tried to avoid eye contact with me.
And I realized that for this wealthy suburban bread cafe, I was, in fact, a transient hobo. A hungry lady who rides the rails and has to pee. They must have been so scandalized.
Everyone's keys are important to them. Everyone's keys are a glimpse into their lives and personalities. My keys are kind of noisy--I have about 6 keys that I use, and then I have 2 bottle openers, a watermelon slice with a happy face, a Beavis key cap that I use as a keychain, an a few other small things on it. Fuzzy has a lot of keys, and a lot of loyalty/ discount swipe cards on his keys. Growing up, my mom had a million keychains on her keys, linked together with many rings, that trailed it seemed down to the floorboard of the car when she was driving. A lot of them were round and acrylic and one of them had a bunch of crazy colors and writing that said something like "These keys belong to an overworked, overdrawn, overwrought, overlooked but still basically fun person." My dad would always tell her to take some of the rings off the keychain, cause he was afraid that it was weighing down the ignition of the car.
I went to Vicksburg a few weekends ago to go visit with my mom. We went to the Christmas Market in Jackson, we went to the park. On Sunday, Fuzzy went out of town, so it was just me and Trish all day. We did some cleaning in her apartment. We moved mom into her current place a few years ago, not knowing what her life was going to be like, there, so now that she is settled, I took a look around and decided that somethings weren't needed. There were baskets of stuff that hadn't been touched since the move, so I thought we should go through them. They were all dusty, and mostly included things that weren't needed--old notes I'd written her, some old receipts, manuals for equipment that no one would ever need. At the bottom of one basket, I noticed that there were some keys. One set of them, I showed mom, and she didn't know what they were, so I threw them away. I picked up the other set, and once I had them in my hands, I had an instant physical reaction.
"Oh, here are Dad's keys."
She said she was wondering where they were. They were so familiar. My dad's keys were iconic to him. He always had them, and if we were at home, he always kept them in the same places. They were very simple--only keys. There was always the red one. I have no idea how many he used regularly--he had several jobs in his lifetime. But the weight of the keys, the feel of them in my hands--they brought back all these floods of emotions and I instantly started weeping. I was surprised at how much an inanimate object could make me so emotional. I looked at mom, who was also teary eyed, and we just sort of nodded at each other.
My dad passed away six years ago today. Six years. This time of year is always hard, even when I try for it not to be. I get a little more emotional, I have a little less patience. I cry at everything. This weekend we've been in Texas with Fuzzy's family, and the Christmas parade made me cry, as did the man who took his two parents out for ice cream the other night when we were in the ice cream parlor. As did almost everything else this weekend. My family always loved Christmas, and I still do, even though it is harder now than it used to be. Our family has changed, things have gotten harder, and now we are spread all over the world. But I am so thankful for the life that I have had, and the ways that my parents and brother have helped shape who I am. I strive to be a giving and nice person to everyone, and I think that trait is one I got from old Dave. My dad was pure love. I will always treasure the love and laughter and warmth and cats and laughter and music and love that the Reids shared.
I miss you, Daddy.
I had SnoBiz just yesterday. In his memory.