Poisson

There is a small white Ann Taylor box resting its pristine self on my kitchen counter top, next to the sink and the remainder of the chocolate merangue pie I made yesterday.

I looked in the box, wondering what could possibly be in it, maybe a pin or a bedazzled hair accessory. At the very least a long lost bobby pin vault.

I peered in and cocked my puzzled head to the side as my mind tried to register this box's contents. What immediately came to mind was a thick smear of blue oil paint, but after a few seconds of deliberation, the truth was undeniably clear.

This box, which once held something beautiful, is now the final resting place of Adrienne's beta fish, Blitzen. 

My sister is completely opposed to the common practice of flushing deceased fish down the toilet. Tomorrow Blitzen the beta fish will be buried in our backyard, in his white jewelry box, next to Mork the cat, Flit and Tweety the parakeets, and Sweetie the cockatiel. 

My sister and I are very, very different people. She's only 11, but she never ceases to amaze me.

I guess, to her, the box still holds something beautiful.

Elizabeth's Thunder Stick

What a lovely little summer this has turned out to be.

I wish I could live like this forever.

I want a penseive.

I was looking at the UMass Theatre Guild's website, and I noticed that a few years back their fall play was Ten Little Indians, which got me thinking. I remember Ten Little Indians perfectly. I remember auditioning on Friday, September 5th instead of Thursday because I didn't want the extra day of anticipation. I remember telling Natale in math how nervous I was, and how badly I wanted a part. I remember exactly what I was wearing, but I won't go into detail. I remember doing the Emily Brent monologue and being terrified of Ms. Mastroianni. I remember doing two scenes with Kenny and then going home and chalking it up as a good experience. I remember going to my SAT tutor that Sunday and buying my monogrammed 'Randy' trucker hat with Samm, where, on the way home, I realized that I didn't have a chance in hell. Monday, September 8th, I remember exactly what I was wearing, that my hair was unwashed and my capri pants made my feet look big. I remember coming out of some assembly, Natale scampering up to me and calling me Vera, and I remember being so supremely on top of the world, the kind of feeling you only get when you truly don't expect something, like when we advanced in Brockton with The Princess and the Princess. There has never been anything better.

Friday of the same week, I remember exactly what I was wearing. It was a good day, a great day, even. It was our 3rd rehersal for the show I thought I'd never be in. But then I got home and Nicole was in the basement with Adrienne and the dogs were inside instead of out and my mom was sitting alone in the woods and "something very very bad happened." There were no rehersals for this situation I never thought I'd be in. There has never been anything worse.

Four days, one extreme to the other.

"It was gortiful." - Alison Tully

I'm going to go ahead and venture to say that I think...I THINK that MAYBE the birds outside my window have either grown up or been silenced, as I was able to sleep an hour later today. I don't want to get ahead of myself in celebrating, but if this is the case, YAHOO.

Last night we gathered up the kids and had a wholesome family movie night. Feature Film: Monster. After this experience we had no choice but to watch Unwrapped on the Food Network to try and cleanse our minds. I don't know about you guys, but I just love going to sleep with visions of lollipops and candy apples AND vicious lesbian prostitue serial killers. Mmm MMM. We watched a 15 minute On Demand special on the making of Monster beforehand, and the director reminds me of Page. 

I fixed myself what would have been the most amazing bowl of Rice Krispies this morning, only to find out that we have no milk. Out of all of life's letdowns, having no milk when you really want cereal is definitely up there, right after Panera not serving baked potato soup on a regular basis.

These are the day, my friends.

I have grown accustomed to measuring the amount of time that has lapsed between now and the days of The Princess and the Princess by studying the nail of my middle finger on my left hand. It feels like it was yesterday, but I know it was really much longer because the new nail is probably 3 weeks away from being completely grown in. 

Tonight we decided to quiet down after being such party girls last night, so Tina, Allie, Kathy and I opted to complete a Little Mermaid puzzle and watch Armageddon. I love it. And them. A lot.

Luke Taylor now knows how much we care for him. It's for the best, really. It was time to come clean. What a sweet and talented and attractive Austrailian boy with a aptitude for Shakespeare.

"I've heard it said 
That people come into our lives for a reason
Bringing something we must learn
And we are led
To those who help us most to grow 
If we let them
And we help them in return"

Everyone deserves the chance to fly.

I wish I could be more excited about college.

I wish my Natale wasn't moving to Florida.

I wish I could be in another show. Or four.

I wish it wasn't raining.

I wish I knew what I was doing.

I wish I wasn't scared of the unknown.

I wish some people weren't so conceited.

I wish there was a way to relive specific moments in the past whenever you needed to.

But there's really nothing I can do.

Oh well.