Sorry it's been forever. Work has been crazy.

Hey, remember that one time, when I redesigned my blog to be exactly what I wanted, wrote two micro-posts, and was never heard from again?

Yeah, about that.

I called up the Best Friend last night for a long overdue catch-up session, and I started out with, "Sorry it's been forever. Work has been crazy."

"Isn't it always?" she asked.

She's absolutely right. I have probably said the phrase "Work has been crazy" dozens of times over the past few years, to her and to all the other friends and family members I neglect the minute I start rehearsals for a new show. It's the worst thing about my job: the necessity for completely single-minded focus for intense periods of time. It's also one of my favorite things, actually, and I'm particularly thankful for it at the moment.

You know those dreams you have where different eras of your life are all jumbled together? You're at a cookout in the backyard of the house you lived in as a child, and with you are people from college you barely knew, and your high school boyfriend, and your great-uncle who died when you were a baby, and you're all discussing global warming, and then you go inside the house and you're actually in that apartment you lived in during grad school. Or something. You know what I mean.

Life is feeling surreal like that to me. I'm in Houston, but instead of living with CameraMan and the Bossy Cat in our cozy apartment, I've traveled back in time a couple years and I'm living in corporate housing again. I'm driving the same car, and seeing the same friends, and going to the same gym, and shopping in the same grocery stores, but I'm doing all those things alone instead of with CM. It's bizarre. Work is the same, barring a few new faces, but everything else seems just a little bit off.

So I'm focusing on work. And since I'm only at work 8-10 hours a day, with the balance of my time I'm trying to go to the gym and cook myself healthy meals on a regular basis. It all seems to be working pretty well. CM and I have settled into a routine: I call him when I wake up (he's on his afternoon break) and on my lunch break (he's home for the night), and we both write chatty good night emails at the end of our respective days.

It's almost enough to distract me from the fact that I'm not in Vienna. Almost.

Thank god the new season of TV has started.

In my Houston apartment

Bedrooms  2
Bathrooms   2
Closets  4
TVs  3
Sinks  4
Giant fruit baskets  1
Kitties  0
Fiancés  0

Long day's journey into night

I have arrived in Houston, safe and sound and so very tired. My day began at 3:45am Vienna time when my alarm went off, and it will be ending quite soon in bed in my corporate apartment, 24 hours later. There are stories to be told of tearful goodbyes, huggy reunions, and all that travel in between, but not tonight. Tonight I will be sleeping deeply and dreaming of Vienna.


It's fall, my favorite time of year. Fall brings with it the promise of fresh starts and clean slates, and it seemed like the right time for a blog redesign. What do you think?

Papa Bossy was incredibly helpful, as always, and I cannot thank him enough. He's responsible for the gorgeous new header, the buttons in the sidebar, and for introducing me to Kuler, an amazing tool for creating color themes (careful, it's easy to get sucked in). I'm so lucky to have talented people in my life.

Besides the overall look, a few little things have changed. I've taken the Bossy List out of the sidebar, which was getting too cluttered, and given it its own space here. I've also added a Projects page, which I'll be updating fairly regularly. And although you can still find me on Blogspot, the official address of this site is now

3 years and 400+ posts in, writing this blog still gives me immense pleasure and satisfaction. Thank you so much for reading.

19 hours in Bratislava

Ever since I learned that there's a hydrofoil that traverses the Danube between Vienna and Bratislava, I've been talking about going, mostly because it's intriguing that a little more than an hour's boat ride away is the capital of an entirely different country. You'd be hard-pressed to travel an hour from anywhere in the States and wind up somewhere that truly felt foreign. We kept planning to go, but hadn't found the right moment.

This weekend CM was lucky enough to have an entire 2-day weekend like normal people, so we decided to head to Bratislava for dinner Saturday night. It wasn't until 20 minutes before we left that we had the idea to stay overnight, so we quickly packed a bag. When we arrived in the city, we walked into the first hotel we saw (the Radisson, not too shabby) and got a very reasonably priced room.

And herein lies the biggest thing Bratislava has going for it, besides proximity to Vienna: it's CHEAP. And they use the Euro, which is quite convenient. Sadly, word's getting out, apparently primarily to the British stag night industry. By the time we arrived around 7pm Saturday, there were already plenty of oddly-costumed British men roaming in packs, leering at the Slovakian women and shouting in the streets. These same men could be found Sunday afternoon sitting in pubs nursing their hangovers and drinking pint after pint of beer. We decided that Bratislava is the New Orleans of Eastern Europe (although a friend of ours pointed that maybe Eastern Europe is the New Orleans of Europe…food for thought).

Bachelor parties aside, though, it's a charming city, full of all those old-world details we love: winding cobble-stoned streets, airy outdoor cafés, a town square, and (of course) a hilltop castle. It also has some delicious food. I did a little internet research before we went, and decided to have dinner at the Pressburg Restaurant, which specializes in traditional Bratislavan cuisine. Fast fact—Pressburg is the German name for the city; it wasn't actually called Bratislava until 1919.

On my quest to eat a meal in every country in Europe, I'm planning to try typical dishes from each place. Sure, pizza in Prague doesn't really count, but I made up for it in Bratislava. I had Bryndzové halušky, described as "the national dish of Slovakia." It's gnocchi in a sheep cheese sauce with bacon sprinkled on the top. Ummm...YES, PLEASE. Doesn't it look delicious?

CameraMan, of course, ordered "Skewer from 3 meats on gallows." You're going to have to use your imagination on that one, at least until he posts his pictures from the trip. We also consumed a platter of Slovak cheeses (no surprise there), a bottle of Slovakian red wine, and a couple glasses of Borovička, which I highly recommend if you like the taste of burning.

It was such a short trip that we didn't get to see all that the city has to offer, but we managed to walk all through the old town, hike up to the castle, watch most of the Federer-Djokovic match, and eat 2 other meals while we were there (neither of which were nearly as good as Saturday's dinner—it pays to do a bit of research before you go). We had a lovely time, although I don't know that we'll need to go back any time soon.


In the meantime, you can see my Bratislava photos here.

Like a log

My body's having an interesting reaction to the jet lag this time around. It's not that I'm sleeping at the wrong times; I'm sleeping all the time. No insomnia for me, no sir. I sleep through the night like a champ. Also the day. Sounds lovely and vacationy, doesn't it? Yes, it would be, if only it weren't so disorienting and groggy-making.

When I got to New York, I had hardly any symptoms at all: a slightly earlier wake-up time, a hint of early evening sleepiness. This is more like rehab in the movies, where we all shuffle in a line to get our meds fed to us at regular intervals. In that movie, I am definitely NOT the girl who pretends to take the pills but is actually hiding them in the side of her mouth so that she can feel more lucid and alive. I am everyone else.

The only thing that's dragging me out of bed every day is some sort of pathological need to cook and shop for food to cook. CM's schedule here is totally new and different: rehearsal 10a-1p, then a mandatory 4-HOUR break in the afternoon, and then either rehearsal 5p-8p or performance duty. It's a whole new world over here in Yurp. Since 5-8 is an awkward time range around which to schedule dinner, we've been having our big meal for lunch instead. I have taken on the preparation of lunch as my own personal mission, and I've actually been enjoying it. This week I've made the aforementioned potato salad, spaghetti with that delicious tomato sauce, roasted mustard chicken legs, mac and cheese (which involved an exciting trip to Cheese Land), and tomato soup with grilled cheese sandwiches. Dinners are generally smaller: platters of cheese and crackers, leftovers, or our new favorite Viennese specialty, Berner Würstel, which is WURST wrapped in BACON and injected with Emmenthaler CHEESE.

So, mostly, we're eating cheese and cheese-related products.

Besides the excessive sleeping (as you all roll your eyes and demonstrate the world's smallest violin with your fingers), the domestic life is suiting me just fine, and I'm none too eager to get on another plane and fly away in less than a week. Perhaps I need to contemplate a career change.

Is Stay-at-Home Fiancée a thing?


I'm sitting at our kitchen table, listening to the new Weepies album, waiting for the potatoes to cook so I can have this ready for CM when he gets home from his first opening night in Vienna. The down comforters have replaced the blankets on our bed, and I'm cozy in a fleece—it's fall here! Since I last wrote, I've been to New York and back (8610 frequent flier miles…ka-ching!). I worked all week with the ragazzi of Fanciulla, which was highly entertaining. I did all my New York things: meeting up with friends, drinking too much Starbucks, taking myself to the movies, and eating breakfast alone at Le Pain Quotidien (with bridal magazines to keep me company this time). It was a good week, actually. The work was great, and for the first time it felt familiar. And despite the 95-degree weather AND hurricane, it was lovely to be in the city. Can all my gigs be just a week long, please? Enough time for me to hit up my faves, but not so much that I tally up every minute spent waiting on a subway platform.

Is it possible to be homesick for somewhere I've only lived a month? Because if I didn't know better, I would say that all week I was missing Vienna something fierce, and not only because CM and the Bossy Cat live there. Little things would remind me how much I love Vienna, like the way in Manhattan you never know when your train is going to come, so everybody has to stare down the tunnel without blinking so that they don't miss the very moment the lights of the train first appear in the distance. In Vienna, see, there's a prominent digital display that lists how many minutes until your train arrives, and the train after that. There's no guessing, there's no anxiety. Simply put, it's BETTER. And while it was refreshing to hear my first language all around me (except for all the times I was straining to speak Italian at work), I found my ears perking up when I heard snippets of German passing me on the street. One of my favorite interactions of the whole week was with a tiny red-haired German girl I met on the subway, whose day was made by my speaking just a few phrases of her own language to her.

However brief the time that we've been here, when I found out that the rehearsal schedule had been rearranged and I could fly back to Vienna early, there was no question in my mind that I was flying home. And now that I'm here, I'm sure of it.

Of course, it didn't hurt that I came home to this:

Taken right before he left for the show. He's so dreamy.


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