The Giving and The Receiving of Thanks

It was the worst Thanksgiving I've ever had. I arrived in Louisville, Kentucky the day before Thanksgiving after a 6:45am flight. I was greeted by my first adopted American Mom and my original TSPP twin, Paige 

and the cutest sign. 

Then we headed off to the Blue Dog Bakery. The food? Amazing. Although I ordered a sandwich and briefly forgot that Americans call a burger a sandwich. 

Then we headed back to the Hassons where I was once again greeted by this aggressively cute guy. 

Paige and I continued our "Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt" marathon from my last visit. I may have viewed the back of my eyelids for a large portion. 

My original TSPP twin, Paige and I went out for a spot of shopping. 

Then I wrote on a wall. 

It's ok, we were supposed to write on it.

Fall in Kentucky might just be the prettiest. I can't believe I just referred to autumn as fall. 

There's a Buca De Beppo restaurant near where I live, but I decided it makes more sense to never go there, but go to the one in Kentucky. 

The portions were kind of really huge. Here are some of our leftovers.

The chicken parmigiana was thoroughly average, but much better than the Troll Pub from my last visit. 

Paige had some more family there. I would be lying if I said I remembered all of their names, 

but I do remember Harrison because he is the cutest. 

And I remember Cindy, partly because I've met her before, but mainly because she shared this delectable chocolate cake with me. 

That's her husband, Peter, in the photo to display the sheer size of that chocolate Everest. 

Beth ( Mom Hasson) also enjoyed the chocolate offering. 

At this point I should probably mention this is the first time I've celebrated Thanksgiving, so it was also the best Thanksgiving I've ever had. 

Read the following post (when I can be bothered to post it) all about the best Thanksgiving ever. 

A Striking Performance

Up to the Disney College Program housing pavilion I strut. It's November 12 and I'm going to watch Newsies. All I know is dancing, singing, newspapers and Disney. Let's go! Let's go to Straz Center for the Performing Arts in Tampa and watch this musical by Alan Menken, Jack Feldman and Harvey Fierstein. 

Or we can leave over an hour later than intended. That's cool too. We hauled overselves up 

all

   those

           stairs

and into our cushioned seats by 7:29pm for the 7:30pm performance.

Some might say our seats in the gallery were so far up oxygen masks should've dropped from the ceiling. Also, that the first scene completely unobstructed by late nineteenth century dirty laundry would've been nice. But one man's (or woman's) gallery is another man's penthouse. 

Physically, I was so distant I couldn't even tell you if any of the Newsie boys even had eyebrows, let alone if they were on fleek. Emotionally, I was given front row seats. Every single performer on that stage did a tremendous job closing the emotional gap. 

A chorus of laughter from the audience rolled with the punch lines. Newsies induced knowing smiles with their yearning for better pay and brought tears with their huge, headline grabbing dance breaks. 

Yep, I cried. Countless times. When I first noticed water leaking from my eyes during the pockets of Newsies performing upbeat, acrobtic jazz during "Carrying the Banner" I thought I'd tally my tears. Then they continued with their technical and unioned, yet idiosyncratic and raw movements and so the tears fell once more. Their lines never completely matched and sure some of their pirouettes were a little off beat, but that's exactly what you'd expect from a riff raff of mostly homeless male youths who sell papes and just happen to sing and dance phenomenally. 

Maybe there was a little PMS to blame, but it doesn't explain the moments I cried. The most obscure moments brought the tears. Sure, there were orphans and Crutchie with a gimp leg, but who would cry at that? Who would cry when Jack and Katherine sing sweetly infront of a sapphire sky draped by the soft grey light of the full moon and the New York City skyline?

It's completely normal to cry when a band of talented dancers are executing superb, upbeat choreography across the floor and through the seamlessly moving scaffolding, right?

Crying because a kid is acting with pizzazz and gusto is surely not unusual. John Michael Pitera's perfectly exaggerated performance of Les potentially reminded me of my younger dance students back home. 

If the cast noticed my silent sobs during the standing ovation, each tear was filled with joy and amazement. A few also fell for the past year I've really missed dancing in a studio and on a stage. 

And finally, to my favourite, happy tear inducing Newsie...

Dear Jack,

Keep doing you. Oozing enough charisma for two. Was that your face I saw at the stage door? Of that I can't be sure. But there is one thing I can say. When your captivating voice emerged from those great pipes you truly did make my night. Whether in Tampa or in Santa Fe, you'd make any audience want to seize the day.

I never expected to love Newsies so much that I would write the most embarrassingly bizarre review about all the times the performance reduced me to tears. The least you could do is watch the striking show when it rolls into a town near you.

This is (Actually) Halloween

Another two Halloween parties, another two DIY costumes. The difference? This time it's actually Halloween. 

The morning of the night before Halloween I decided I would go to the Plazaween Block Party in Orlando. What was I going to wear? Who was I going to be? More importantly, how much would my costume cost?

Nothing. I spent exactly $0 on this one. I picked a few leaves and used some tape and safety pins to fasten them to a green dress. Then called myself Poison Ivy. 

I didn't go alone. I went with my nerd, Kyra. 

We danced the night away. To be honest, there wasn't much night left by the time we arrived, but we danced into the morning. 

The next night was a little more confusing and a lot more rushed, but just as much fun. As if I wouldn't have fun as "the head witch", as "Wini", looking "perfect". For only $3 I transformed into Winifred Sanderson. 

You know, that witch Bette Middler plays in Hocus Pocus. 

It took a little longer to help Alicia and Carlos into their Day of the Dead faces and apparel. 

We also showed up to the Church Street party in Orlando with a SWAT team member and a medical "professional". He kept offering free prostate exams to Carlos. 

Maybe that's why Carlos fell on the floor in the first club we entered. Unfortunately I didn't witness the event, but Snow White assures me it was hilarious. 

That night was the end of Daylight Savings. Screw the daylight; let's waste it. We wanted the night. We wanted an extra hour to celebrate Halloween, but everyone got a little confused about exactly when the party was supposed to end. Then all of a sudden, while people from the audience are on stage, the DJ declares the party over just before it hit 2am the second time. The conclusion was abrupt, but I think I'd celebrated Halloween just enough.