I had no idea.

I really adore sock yarn, especially hard to get, desirable, expensive, European sock yarn.  Last night, when I wanted to go online and buy and buy to soothe the bitter gaping babyless hole in my heart, I thought, wouldn't it be better if I pulled out all of my sock yarn to see what I had and to maybe, just maybe, convince myself that I didn't need anymore?  Yeah, it worked.  

As I also have five more skeins of the expensive, super-excloosive, you-have-to-wait-up-all-night-to-get-it German yarn coming soon, I think I need to knit for a few more years until I can justify the next purchase.  Of course, Christmas is coming, and yarn is a perfect stocking stuffer.  

I miss the magic.

I'm getting the itch, the yen, the longing.  I need to visit Disneyland.  I ache for some escapism.  We promised to take Jayden to Disneyland for his seventh birthday, which is next year, so we're thinking maybe February, when the parks have historically low attendance and the desperate state of the economy means that Disney will need to offer progressively lower prices and greater incentives to guest to get them to spend what little money they have to make the trip.  I'm hoping for deals so absurd that Christian will be unwilling to say no.  I need a rice krispie treat with candy coating.

A little like it.

I was awakened at 5 am this morning my a ruckus in the bird room. I rushed in to find Cyril thrashing against the sides of his cage, panting and flapping.  My bird has night terrors. 

I spent the next half hour holding him and petting him and talking to him as he shook and hyperventilated.  When he had finally calmed down, I put him back in his cage, to have him promptly climb out and offer his neck to me for a scratch.  I couldn't not scratch him, he's too sweet, so I didn't get to bed until about six. 

If a little bird can keep me up in the night, I don't stand a chance with a kid.  

The two cutest nuns.

As the director said, there's nothing funnier than men dressed as nuns.  Is it disturbing that they're also pretty smokin'?

The morning after.

Do I feel sad about the show being over because I love performing, or is it because I hate taking events off the calendar on my website?  This show had an unusually agreeable cast who also happened to be extremely talented as well as adorable, so saying goodbye was hard.  There's no break, as Pearl Fishers' rehearsals start tonight and Hansel and Gretel started rehearsals two days ago, but, as I whinge and moan when I'm not so busy that I forget to put on pants in the morning, I'm grateful that I have work, even if I'm still convinced that I'm going to be laughed off the stage (and not in a good way) when I dress as Hansel.  There's only so much a costumer can do.

Oh, and we got a great review.  

The icing on the happy cake.

Dino Rossi is set to concede. I don't think I could have swallowed the bitter pill of having a 1920's ganster throwback as my Governor.

And, oh yeah, HOLY FUCKING SHIT, OBAMA WON! The tears, they were aflowin'. I love that man and his badass wife and my withered heart has been suffused with the revivifying elixer of optimism. So suck it, Republicans, suck it.

A terrible day for the brass section.

I always looked forward to hearing Der Holle Rache played four octaves down when I'd arrive at the opera house for performance nights. We'll now only be surrounded by PETA protesters and there will be no one to drown them out.