Uh, hi March.

Whoops.

So, um, been a tad busy with a li'l project or two I'll reveal shortly.

But in the meantime- travel/writing/more travel/more (but unfortunately, of lesser quality) writing/and some meetings.

Two weekends ago Peej and I went to Cincy and had a great Subway experience on the way through the state of Indiana (the chain restaurant, I mean- I don't believe Indiana has a transit system. I could be dead wrong) wherein we, due to the Lenten Season, ordered non-meat subs. The kid behind the counter asked us, "Is there some reason you're eating fish?" Blink blink, we said to ourselves, is there a reason we *shouldn't* be eating the fish? Turns out the kid was just curious about the eating habits of Catholics, but still.  File that one under 'things that would only happen in small towns...right off of exit ramps.' The real purpose of our trip, however, was to meet James Boden Schoeny- and we fought over who got to hold him the entire time. He fell asleep in my arms= point for me, but P.J. got a smile out of him with a song= slightly cooler. We love us some Bodie. His big sis Hannah celebrated her 4th birthday with some pretty sweet loot from the uncle & aunts and two parties in the same day. That's usually how I roll, too.

The weekend was over way too quickly, as per usual, and we soon found ourselves in the midst of a new week. Tired. I finished my one-act for submission to ATC (it's pretty good) and tried to tie up loose plots in a one-act for submission to the Manhattan Theatre Project...sadly, that one is NOT as good as the first one, but latter is up for a 7.5k cash prize. Sigh. (Side note, have you ever noticed that TRIED is an anagram for TIRED? This cannot be a coincidence.)

The next weekend I found myself (veeery early on a Friday) traveling from Roscoe Village to Midway to Atlanta to Fort Lauderdale to Miami to South Beach (whoo!) My parents and I were attending my cousin's wedding the next day and stayed with one of my most favoritest uncles in the world- one who happens to own a sweet beach-front condo with one of the best balconies ever to overlook the Atlantic. Sadly, I only caught an hour and a half of sun there. Happily, I got to have one of the best meals ever at Barton G's in South Beach; $27 martinis, a gorgeous garden seating area with lights and palm trees (we do not have those here) and the funkiest presentation I've ever seen. Seriously. The duck was served on a tiny stage with a miniature (and working!) duck shoot behind the entree. I saw a gal shooting a teensy gun whilst eating fifty buck duck. (That is an excellent name for a band, btw.) I got a coconut shrimp appetizer that came on humongo skewers and was surrounded by streams of nitrogen. Unfortunately, a slight breeze was pushing most of the clouds into my face, causing me to sway and cough like a moron. "The nitrogen won't hurt you," the waiter cavalierly told me. "I CANNOT SEE," I retorted, most uncouthly. 

But it was still rad.

The next day I enjoyed another hour and a half sunning myself on the exceptional balcony (all the while pretending I was readying myself for my cousin's wedding.) Then my mom, dad and I hopped into our rental car and drove up to Cape Coral, FL. Two and a half hours away. Unfortunately, we didn't make it to the actual wedding, as we were stuck in traffic for double the time it should've taken to drive there. Super unfortunately, we soon found out the reason for the delay- a motor home had crashed and INCINERATED on the spot. Eight emergency vehicles had whizzed past us on a strip known as "Alligator Alley" (don't unlock your doors, folks) and rendered miles of highway immovable. By the time we got up to the accident there was a huge scorch mark on the ground. Creepy. Kind of made us feel bad for whining about the drive- but we still didn't feel amazing about the fact that the accident had occurred ten miles past our starting point. Sigh. 

Four hours later we made it to the reception and actually had a nice time, although I kept sneaking out of the reception hall and making excuses to call people on my cell. (I needed to get sunshine SOMEHOW!!)

Two and a half hour drive home, straight to bed, eaaaaarly rising (5:30am, minus an hour for the time change, minus an hour for Chicago time- 3:30! Woot!) for my 8am flight...to Atlanta...and then Midway (45 minute circling through thunderstormy clouds- "This is how it's going to end," she thought to herself") and back up to Roscoe Village.

Total travel= 24 combined hours. Total sunshine= 3 combined hours. That= wrong.

But it's okay, because yesterday got up to a balmy 65 degree...thunderstorm...and this morning was, well, 4.

That's kind of the same thing, right?

Wrote two scenes for the piece due this weekend and I can honestly state that I have no idea how wundy or god awful they are. Plus, I may have to throw in the towel for the short mystery due on Sunday. (Seriously, a complex piece that I have YET TO START? How much terrific potential does THAT have? Mmm hmm. Lots.)

And two nights ago I attended a meeting for Chicago Dramatists alongside some pretty big names. They're starting a campaign for '30 for 30,' a drive to raise money for a theatre that has spawned some pretty spectacular works and careers (ever heard of Tina Fey? She wrote and had a play produced about Catherine the Great that put her on the map fifteen years ago. And then she did some TV.) They're having some great events and speakers- for example, Rick Cleveland (former Dramatists writer), now a mucky muck with Mad Men and former writer for West Wing, is giving a seminar, plus doing a separate downtown show...and giving all the proceeds to Chi Dramatists. Pretty spiffy! They also happen to be the company that has given me my biggest and best chances for showcasing work, plus they've featured me as a playwright a time or eleven. 

Want to donate or find out more cool stuff about them? You can find them at www.chicagodramatists.org or even become their friend on Facebook. Yay for the combination of incredible theatre + the technology favored by fourteen-year old girls! 

(And uber-lax bloggers.)