Merry Christmas to All, and to All a Good Flight!

"Now, I'm his ghost. That's not difficult. It's unbearable. I know everyone is proud of him, but I am not. And I do not wish him well." -- Christina Yang, Grey's Anatomy

"All We Need is a Witch Doctor in the Corner"

In the ever-expanding category of "proverbial straws to break this poor little camel's back," the most recent one is also, perhaps, the most absolutely ridiculous. I won't bore you with the details of every little thing that's made me want to crawl in a hole and die lately, just the most recent one.

My living room is a swamp. Or, "the bayou" as we've come to affectionately call it. Through a series of complicated and annoying electrical issues, there is a pool forming under our living room carpet. It causes deep puddles to seep up through our floor, squish between our toes, and make a generally smelly mess. It has also caused our power bill to soar sky high, seeing as a) it seems to be an air conditioner issue and b) the drying process requires us to run the air conditioner three days straight without stopping, as low as it can go.

And so, today finds the residents of the bayou eating pizza, watching as numerous repairmen traipse through the house making conflicting suggestions, and keeping an eye out for gators.

And while our bayou may not have a chorus of helpful fireflies, we do have the ever-so-pleasant hum of two industrial driers, 24-hours a day! And that sweet, swampy smell of breeding mold. And the freezing cold gusts of wind from every vent. Wouldn't you want to live here?

Confessions of a Homeless Housewife : Part II

I think one of my problems is, I am domestic in spurts. I'll have these great surges of homemakerish energy, where I feel inclined to sew, bake, organize, or bedazzle anything in sight.

It's rather like nesting, but without the egg.

If I could find a way to be consistently domestic ... to channel my love of cupcakes into opening up a little bakery. Or sew things for an Etsy shop, as I have tried and failed to do at least half a dozen times. If I could just make it all a regular part of my life ... maybe then, something good would come of it.

I've always loved the fact that I'm interested in a lot of things. I dabble in many hobbies, I explore different professions and pastimes ... but the unfortunate truth is, sometimes that makes for simply mediocre performance in many areas, rather than exquisite performance in one. I cannot make a living with my hobbies and my sporadic passions. I cannot settle down enough to dedicate my time to simply one thing. And as such, I never seem to improve in any of them.

Three cheers for substandard creativity.

"Bloody Jack"

Bloody Jack: Being an Account of the Curious Adventures of Mary "Jacky" Faber, Ship's Boy by L.A. Meyer
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

This book was an "Audible" find for me ... while I was sifting through endless samples, looking for a narrator I can even halfway tolerate. I'm frighteningly picky about narrators ... especially the women.

But Katherine Kellgren, who reads the entire "Bloody Jack" series, was a revelation. She brought to life perfectly an already gripping and thrilling adventure. Had I not stumbled upon her voice, I would never have been introduced to Mary "Jacky" Faber, or "Bloody Jack." The star of our series. A young orphan girl, who leaves her miserable life as an urchin beggar behind and, disguised as a boy, enlists in the King's Navy as a ship's boy.

What I expected to be a fairly routine and cookie-cutter story turned out instead to be an absolutely delightful read. (Or, in my case, listen.) I was surprised at how quickly it roped me in, and how easily I got lost in the sails and polished decks of the HMS Dolphin.

So hoist the mainstay, veer to starboard, and smooth sailing soldiers! Ride the rolling tide to your nearest bookstore, and start readin' those letters! Captain's orders! And if you're pressed for time, ask Katherine Kellgren. She'll do the reading for you!


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Confessions of a Homeless Housewife

While I was opening my fourth baking-related gift of the day on Christmas, my mother said, "Who would have ever thought that Kaitlin would grow up to be so domestic?"

The answer to that is : nobody.

I was the type who wasn't going to get married until I was 35. I hated dresses, I despised wearing white because I was a notoriously messy child, and "helping" with dinner was simply a clever ruse to hide my taste-testing everything in sight.

But I got married at 19. I started cooking, and actually enjoying it. I sew for fun (heck, I have my own machine and dress dummy) and I would rather be home alone baking on a Saturday night than out at the movies.

Oh, and I wear SKIRTS now!  And SUNDRESSES!  When did THAT happen?!

But the sad truth is, now that I enjoy all these domestic pursuits so much more than I ever thought I would, who do I have to share them with?  I get in the mood to make something, and lose my motivation halfway through, because what's the point?  I'm a nomad.  I haven't lived in the same place for more than a year in 5 years.  Anything I make, I'll just have to find a place for in the already crowded apartment.  The kitchen is small, and every time I go on a baking spree I take up two whole rooms, and get in everyone's way.  When I make dinner, I make enough to feed a small army, and most of it simply goes to waste.

What happened to me?

And what do you do with yourself when you're a homeless housewife?

Zombies ... RUN!

Some people enjoy running on treadmills at the gym, surrounded by machinery and juice bar temptations. Others run outside, on trails or along the side of the road, listening to their favorite music.

And some of us like to run through deserted, post-apocalyptic townships with the sound of radio transmissions in our ears and a small army of angry zombies chasing after us.

I don't often pay money for apps, but "Zombies, Run!" is completely worth it. For someone like me who hates running, turning every jog into an adventure is one of the best motivations.  The game mixes your workout playlist with a series of radio transmissions, and as you run you receive instructions from your superiors, pick up supplies, and occasionally get chased by zombies.

The app uses GPS tracking on your phone when you're running outside (or an accelerometor that measures your steps if you're at the gym) to track how far and how fast you're going. If you don't pick up the pace when the zombies appear, they WILL catch you!

Of course, I may have several unusual experiences with this game ... I tend to commit to the story line a bit too much, and run like my life is actually depending on it when I'm being chased ... In fact, if anyone happened to be watching my first ever "Zombies, Run" experience, they were in for a laugh.

It was last fall, and I was running through my parents' neighborhood. Taking it slow and easy, listening to the radio transmissions, proud of myself for getting in shape.  And then, just as the voice in my ear yelled, "Run, RUN!" a neighborhood dog popped out of nowhere and started yapping its head off. I had already gotten so wrapped up in the story that it scared the crap out of me, and I ran like a bat out of hell. I don't think I stopped running for about six blocks.

So take your boring, everyday runs and spice them up with the undead! Even with the slight trauma that results from coupling this game with an over-active imagination, it's worth it.

Sequins and Sneakers

In the last two and a half days I have baked two kinds of cupcakes, three kinds of cookies, pumpkin muffins, apple strudel, a variety of fruit tarts and two types of cheesecake.  All in preparation for the fancy gala at the theatre.  For those of you who don't know, back in November I got a second job at a children's theatre in Orlando.  It's called "In the Limelight," and it now owns a very large part of my soul.  I spend every Saturday there, helping with rehearsals and anything else I can get my hands on.  The theatre junkie in me would never leave the building if it could, but unfortunately the Disney addict part of me (as well as the demands of everyday life) call me away, and I don't get to spend nearly as much time there as I would like.  I haven't been a part of the company for very long, but I already love it there.

Needless to say, the time since I joined In the Limelight has been more than a little hectic.  I have spent my days at Disney, my nights drowning in fabric, and all the in-betweens writing my heart out.  There have been several weeks where I go straight from an 8-hour Disney shift to an all-night theatre shift, frantically trying to change clothes in my car and eating whatever snacks I can find in my bag.  And if you know me at all, you know that this is pretty much as perfect as life can get :)

Which brings us to the gala, and the 38-hours worth of dessert that I voluntarily provided.  In fact, may or may not have begged to be allowed to provide.  The gala itself was amazing.  A spectacular awards show, complete with red carpet and paparazzi, performances to break up the awards announcements, and everyone dressed to impress.  Including yours truly.

But, of course, at the end of a long day, trailing at the end of an even longer week, the last thing I want to do is wear four-inch heels for six hours.  You'd better believe that the second the last guest closed the door behind them, the sneakers went back on!  And so, the end of the night found me carrying cupcake trays back to my car in my sparkly party dress ... and running shoes.  Ultimate classy broad right here.

For now, everything is as it should be.  And that's good enough for me.

"When nothing goes right ... go left."

When I got married, my whole life was set out before me.  School, children, the whole package.  It was a simple enough plan, and I was happy with it.

When my marriage ended, the plan changed.  Now, my goal was simply to be happy again.  After that, when my mom got sick, things started unraveling faster than I could keep up.  Nothing was stable, nothing was sure, and I've never been the type to handle change very well.

I'm not exaggerating when I say that Disney saved me.  It gave me a series of simple goals, things I could handle: Survive the College Program.  Find a place to live once it was finished.  Keep my job.  Make magic.  And I am grateful for it every single day.

But even here, things change.  Disney is sometimes the only thing that is stable.  Housing situations change.  Financial problems arise. Hearts are broken, opportunities missed, and it's far too easy to drown in the panic that comes with knowing how close you are to falling apart.

But I haven't fallen apart.  Not yet.  Because something happened shortly after I moved down here, a little more than a year ago : I finally started becoming the person I always wanted to be.  Someone who could handle change.  Someone who could bounce back.  A fighter.  A survivor.

I've been through more in the last two years than most women my age have to cope with in a decade.  And I'm at peace with it.  All of it.  I want to be the type who can fight through the hard times and come out on the other side a stronger person.  I want to have the courage to follow new paths.  When nothing goes right ... I want to be brave enough to go left.