Do You Hear The People Sing?

Last week, I had the opportunity to go see Les Mis here in Dallas.

I know, because I haven't seen it enough this year. But, it's like I explained to my dad--what if it stops touring, what if it leaves the West End? I need to get my Les Mis fill in just in case. Obvs.

It's a sickness, really.
Anyways, we had VIP passes for the evening, which meant, pre show dinner and drinks.

Viva Les Mis!
Getting excited for the show!
My gorgeous date for the evening, That Pink Girl! It was her first time seeing Les Mis and her first time at Winspear!
Sigh.

Ok, we need to talk for a minute about my love for the Enjolras character. I know it's all about Jean Valjean and Marius and whatever, but, I've always thought that it's really his deal.

This is Jeremy Hays who currently plays Enjolras in the U.S 25th Anniversary Tour--he's great in the role.
And my British boyfriend, Ramin Karimloo in the role in the Les Mis 25th Anniversary Concert.
Irish boyfriend, Killian Donnelly in the role in 2010 at the Queen's Theater in London.
Sarah, you may recognize Eponine and Javert as the roles from the concert. Oh, and Killian is in the concert too. He's currently Raoul in London. And he retweeted one of my tweets last week. Then I had a heartattack.

Yep, I just read that. I'm aware of how INSANE I sound/am. I need therapy.

Cossette and I. Again. I look semi creepy here. Not surprised.
Per usual, I made it two notes in before the tears came. But, I mean, listen to this, how can you NOT CRY?!!


My favorite song/piece/performance in Les Mis is One Day More and I swear if that gets screwed up in the movie, I'm never talking about Hugh Jackman again.

No, no, I didn't mean that. I could never abandon my Hugh. Just, don't screw it up.

After I cried my eyes out (seriously, I cry when it starts, I cry when Eponine dies, I cry when Gavroche dies, I cry at the finale--it's ridic) sang along and called Sarah so she could hear the second act, we went backstage!

Here's TPG in front of the elephant doors for the opera. No, really that's what they're called!
Making my Dallas theater debut on the stage of the Winspear Opera House. Maybe one day I'll actually be up on that stage performing?!
The runaway cart! Yes, it is suspended from the ceiling when not in use.
I hijacked this collage from TPG's blog.
Me, joining the revolution, clearly.
Costumes! Can you spot the Lovely Ladies dress?
I stole this collage from TPG too. Ooops. A tub of Riccola and props for the wedding scene!

So, her hat wasn't there, but, still!



THE BARRICADES
That's right, the barricades, again!
At the barricades. Man. The geek in me is about to die!
In homage to my homegirl Eponine, I sported my hat the following day (and real clothes!) and yet sang Anthem from Chess all day. Hm.
You're right, I probably should look into some kind of twelve step program or something.

But, Les Mis is just so good! Can't help loving it so!

Over and out,
24601

(Ramin photo from here)

Holiday Highlights

This was my first holiday proper away from our families, so, admittedly it was a bit different and yes, a little strange, but, I made it fun.

-I got to FaceTime with the bestie and about died laughing at her Elf on a Shelf paradies (fish on a dish, anyone?)
-I also FaceTimed with the royal sis and mom in which we sang The Lonely Goatherd and fawned over Colm Wilkinson. (Colm Wilkinson, our British husband, with my British boyfriend, Ramin in Les Mis 25. S-W-O-O-N)
-There were the endless text messages with the BFF and her relaying the story of how she set her dining table on fire in a very Ross Gellar/Phoebe's dollhouse situation. I hadn't laughed that hard since my surgery, and it hurt, but, let me tell you--WORTH IT.

-Sharing the love of Gilbert Blythe with my dear Becky.

-Mission Impossible movie date--Tom Cruise has redeemed himself from his couch jumping days, y'all!

-Phone calls and texts messages with my big sister and nieces.

-Way too many baked goods.

-A phone call with the baby sis, but only for like 5 minutes because the rest of the family are big phone hogs.

It wasn't the beach Christmas I've had all my life, but, it was just lovely--thank you to those of you who helped make it special. Muah!

Hope y'all had a very wonderful holiday!
xoxo

Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again

Dear Mom: Eight Years Later
It's been eight years since you left us. Eight long years. I never thought I could live eight days without you, but, it turns out, I can. I don't relish that fact. I wish I never had to learn that. But, that wasn't a choice I was given.

Anyways, we shouldn't dwell.

This year, I went through some hard stuff, Mom. Really hard. And you weren't here to talk about it, which sucks. Luckily, you left me in good hands with Lara--don't know what I'd do without her-- and I've an amazing mother in law, who, I'm certain you'd be best friends with, and there are some fantastic people in my life--people I know you'd adore.

I know you've your hand in so many aspects of my life.

From finding the perfect barn photo in Montana, to the clouds in Hyde Park, running into your best friend at Hearst Castle, to the amazing friends I know you've put in my life-- your presence is everywhere.

I've your feet. Your hands. Your smile. I'm a mini you. It's funny, I always knew I looked like you, but, now, I'm fairly certain we're twins. I'm ok with that.

Mom, you gave me a love of reading, of travel, of singing, of dancing in the kitchen,
of London-- especially London, of Les Mis, of Michael Crawford-- your Phantom, of horses, of Anne Shirley and introducing me to my true first love, Gilbert Blythe, of writing, of life. I owe so much of who I am to you.

I cried my bloody eyes out seeing Les Mis in London earlier this year. Your favorite play, in your favorite city. You know that you and I never went to London together? That sucks. But, I know you where there with me.

I actually picked up my phone to call you before I left-- that hasn't happened in a while. I know you were with me every step of the way. From seeing Alfie Boe as Jean Valjean, to Killian Donnelly as Raoul and Ramin Karimloo as the Phantom-- I know you were there. You were gushing over Michael Crawford and crying when we saw Sarah Brightman. You were enthralled with Buckingham Palace and enjoyed scones with me in Green Park.

When we took Bailey to see her first Broadway show this summer, I watched it through your eyes-- seeing a sweet girl entranced by the stage for the first time. That was so special for me.

I miss you every single day, and wish you were here every single day. I hope and pray that one day I will have a daughter and she and I will have the same relationship that you and I did.

(obviously, my love of hats is genetic)
You taught me there's nothing better than red lipstick and that a girl can never have too many pairs of black pumps. That being yourself is the most beautiful thing.

Mom, you left me with a fabulous legacy. I pray I can be half the friend, sister, daughter, mother, person you were. That you still are.

You were my rock. I'll never stop wishing you were somehow here again.

Your favorite Phantom song, with my favorite Christine.


Love you, Mumzie. Always.

xox
Your Ally Girl

This Time/That Time

This time, I am in a kitchen, in Dallas Texas, without my mom (but, with the BFF, bless her).

That time, either years ago--December 21, 2003-- I was in sunny California with my mom.

That time was the last time we spent a day together. The last time we baked cookies. Watched Little Women. Sang Deck the Halls. We wooden spoon sang Master of The House. We made popcorn balls. We swooned over Johnny Depp.

The last time.

The day before she died.

I remember everything about our last full day together. Which is weird, considering, the details of the following day are fairly blurred (I have some distinct memories, which, I've shared with some people, but, the one that stands out the most was ordering a smoothies at Jamba Juice that night with my dad and going off the the clerk for taking about my dead mother. I was a mess).

We woke up, watched two Johnny Depp movies, mom with her coffee (lots of sugar, and a hot chocolate packet), me with my Diet Coke and then proceeded to the annual baking portion of our holiday.

I remember what I wore: pink velour pants, a white printed tee shirt, a denim button down-- unbuttoned, bare feet. I had just cut off all my hair into a bob and had gone from beach blonde to my auburn. I wore it curly because my mom thought it was sassy.

We put on Little Women and baked-- as was our tradition. We made my mom's famous oatmeal chocolate chip cookies, popcorn balls, coconut dream bars, fudge and of course, spritz cookies.

My dad, stepmom and half sister came over that night to exchange gifts. We gave them a basket of cookies. To this day, even through three moves, my dad still has a single spritz cookie from that basket in the freezer. He says he will never get rid of it.

We stayed up too late watching What About Bob and laughing when I finally fell asleep on the sofa my mom brought me my pillow and blanket and didn't wake me.

I'll never forget that day.

I'll never forget that it was the last traditional holiday baking I've done. I'll never stop wishing I could relive it. That I could smell my mom's perfume, see her glasses, and laugh at her dropping her ring for the 500th time in the flour.

I'll never stop wishing for the day when I can recreate those memories with my daughter.

But, today, this time, I shall watch sitcoms with the BFF, I shall bust out my cookie press, and I will try my hand at a recipe I've not touched in eight years.

This time, I wish she was here. I wish I had a daughter. I wish for so many things. But, wishes get you nowhere.

So, this time I will wear black yoga pants (still can't wear legit clothes), a white shirt and a cardigan, my hair will be longer, straight, and dark brownish red, but, I will again, be barefoot.

This time, I will make goodies for my friends in Dallas and I will remember how lucky I was to have my mom. If only for 19 short years.

This time won't be the same as that time, but, it'll be my time.

(and here's where it all started--SP, age 2--a cookie monster even then)

Recovery Week

This is what we did most of the week....

I ate some ice cream cake (and by "some" I mean, "a whole heck of a lot").
A sweet friend brought me some PowerAde when I was about to die of thirst.
There was a lot of beagle paw holding (she never left my side, my little beagle nurse)
There were plenty of movies to be watched--only one viewing of Phantom 25th (restraint, people, restraint!), but, there was lots o' Colin Firth. Longing for London, I am.

At some point, I decided to paint my nails. I do not recommend this whilst on pain killers.

And then on Saturday night, to get me out of the house, the husband took me to look at Christmas lights in the Twelve Days of Christmas Neighborhood.
Then I passed out for two more days. Awesome.

It's coming along, I'm surviving. Thank y'all so much for your emails, texts and tweets, I appreciate it so much!!

The Best Medicine

Y'all, this?

Might be the funniest thing I've ever seen.

Can't stop laughing. Which is a double edged sword when you're recovering from abdominal surgery.

Man.

Well, either this is freaking hilarious, or, I'm pain killer drunk. Take your pick. ;)

Well Read

There are certain things in life that I suspect I will never tire of. Reading, I am sure, is one of them.

Others being The Sound of Music, showtunes, cowboy boots, all things British, a warm summer breeze and the smell of coconut. But, today, today we shall talk of the written word.

(this is probably why I'm always tired)
My mother, the former English teacher, instilled reading in me from a young age. I don't remember a single childhood night that was not capped off by reading. Sometimes from children's books, sometimes she'd read me a chapter of her book, sometimes it was poetry. No matter, it was wonderful. One of my most treasured possessions is a hard back edition of Little Women she gave me for Christmas when I was ten. Another is her copy of the complete works of Shakespeare, which I inherited upon her death.

(current reading material)

Truth is, I can be found at Half Price Books at least once a month, if not once a week. Often, I won't buy anything, just stroll around looking through old copies of books I already have. (I majorly scored on my last trip finding a 1953 copy of The Great Gatsby and a beautiful hardback version of Wuthering Heights. Jackpot!)

(latest book haul)
That's another problem, how many copies of Northanger Abbey do I need? Answer: there are never enough. My favorite thing is to find old editions, or copies that have been inscribed--I buy those instantly! What memories those pages have. And who could give up a book gifted to them by a loved one? Not I.

No, not I. I dream of a wood paneled library to rival that of Beauty and The Beast. I find comfort in the pages I've read before, the places and people I know so well. In a world of turmoil, or constant change, of stress and anxiety, I know I can always find comfort I. The pages of Bronte, Austen, Fitzgerald, Alcott, London and the like. I can travel to Ithaca with Odysseus and debate my future with Hamlet.

(y'all, this is my nightstand. FOR REAL)
I suspect one of the reasons I have always felt so at home in England is that so many of my favorite books are based there-- I am wildly familiar with the landscape of Manderly, of Meryton, of London and Pemberly because I have been there so many times in my lifetime-- maybe not physically, in person, but, I have been there.

These last few weeks as I have reread at least three books, all three being some of my favorites-- Pride and Prejudice, The Phantom of The Opera and Rebecca. I just picked up a copy of Rebecca for my sister and somehow found myself reading it, there on the floor of the bookstore, although I've finished it myself for the 100th time just days before.

I'm certain we all longed for a Teddy Lawrence, a Fitzwilliam Darcy, a wardrobe like Daisy Buchanan's, a savior like Mr. Rochester, a home like Manderley. I know we can each find a bit of us in a March sister and dream of the wild like Hemingway. These were all given to us by such wonderful authors. Stories that have and always will, endure time.

(don't we all just love this quotation? It will never cease to be perfection)
I can think of nothing better than spending a day, a week (!) curled up with a good book and being transported to another place, another time-- another world.

Do you ever find yourself in the vicious cycle of reading in that you're so involved in a book that you read it so quickly and then are depressed that it's over? Yeah, story of my life.

So, today, today I am recovering from surgery (send recovery texts, tweets and or emails involving Hugh Jackman, Patrick Wilson, Ramin Karimloo, Colin Firth and Dr. chase. Thank you mucho) (no really, do it) (or send flowers) (and chocolate) (also, I wrote this post last night-- I know you thought I was all pain killer drunk. Sorry, this is me stone cold sober). ANYWAYS. Today as I recover from surgery, I will nestle in bed with a good book, and be instantly whisked away somewhere else.

Now, I've spilled some of my all time favorites, what are yours?? Any current favorites? What new books am I missing because I can't put down Jane Austen? Tell me!

(but, seriously, recovery texts/tweets/emails--Hugh Jackman, Patrick Wilson, Ramin Karimloo, Colin Firth, Dr. Chase. SERIOUSLY)

xoxox

But wait! There's more!

Apparently there is more to do in NYC than fawn over Hugh Jackman?
News to me, but, we managed to do some other stuff too.
Like fawn over Harry Connick, Jr.

GAH SO DREAMY. DREAMY. DREAMY. D-R-E-A-M-Y.
At our first show of the weekend, HC,Jr.'s "On a Clear Day"
(none of y'all knew my mom, but, it freaks me out how much I look like her in that picture, like, literally, twins. Red lipstick and all!)

Sara made out with him a little bit. Game on, Jill Goodacre.
So did I. (rockin' my Princess Kate wannabe coat)
Inside St. James Theater--so pretty! It was directly across the street from where we saw Hugh and Phantom, so, basically, West 44th is the BEST STREET EVER.
After drooling over Harry and his to die for drawl, we headed out for food. Naturally.

I killed a milkshake and fries at 11PM.
Sara handled a BLT like a champ.
The following day (or HUGH DAY), we went to The Met, Central Park and the Plaza for tea.

This is one of my favorite Renior paintings, it reminds me of my nieces.
Of course, Houses of Parliament by Monet. Sigh.
Sara and her angel (of music) (I promise I'll stop) (soon) sculpture that we finally found. Cupid and Psyche, right?
I finally made it to Balto! If you don't the story of Balto, you just killed a bit of my soul, but, that's ok. I'll forgive you. I grew up with huskies and sled dogs, so, Balto is part of my DNA or something.
Our birthday tea service at The Plaza!
Channeling Elizabeth Bennett. I just re-read Pride and Prejudice two weeks ago, thus, everything is Pemberly, Darcy and Elizabeth--apologies.
Had to snap this for my Royal Sister, Sarah because I know how much she loves Bernadette Peters! I tweeted this picture before we went to see Hugh, giving the current Mrs. Jackman a warning.
In my idiot stupor talking with Hugh, I did manage to learn that today is his other wifes birthday, so, happy birthday to my sister wife Deb Jackman. She's fine with sharing her husband. It's cool.

I MEAN, I JUST LOVE HIM SO MUCH I'M WILLING TO SHARE WITH HER.
As you all know, I chowed at Shake Shack after we saw Hugh. And by "chowed" I mean drank my Coke because I was too flustered to actually eat even though I was starving.

Thus, this was Saturday morning breakfast.
Booyah. Hugh diet is over.

It's cool, we walked it off. Or, I'm going to think that.

We then went and saw Mary Poppins, which, oh my gosh, so much fun! I want to adopt the chick who plays Mary Poppins--she's just the cutest thing ever. Like, I want her to be my BFF.

And I'm certain I missed my calling in life. I could be on stage. I just need an agent. And to lose like 20 pounds. Totally doable.

Then I could like "work" with Hugh Jackman/Ramin Karimloo/Tam Mutu/Patrick Wilson--OMG IT'S A COMPLETELY BRILLIANT PLAN. (I introduced Sara to the swoon-worthiness that is Ramin and Tam--Google y'all, just, Google. And thank me later.)

I kinda look like I'm gonna eat Sara's face here. Oops.

Number 17 Cherry Tree Lane. Chim chim cher roo!
Saturday was our final night in the city (waaaaahhhh!) and we were off to see Hugh Number Two (Hugh Panaro) in The Phantom of The Opera.
So, I wore this of course--I mean, the red dress worked for Hugh Number One, I had high hopes for this baby.
Yup. This will never get old.
Sara's husband loves Phantom, which I think is adorable, so, this is for him!
"Lot 666, a chandelier in pieces." Ok, I promise I'll stop. Well, I'll try.
Did I mention we were second row, center? We were. This is really all my sister's fault.

This is probably my favorite non Hugh Jackman photo of the weekend!
Me and my signature Phantom Ponytail. Don't believe me? Proof here and here. I have a problem. Or, lack creativity. Probably both.
And even though we missed Hugh Number Two at the stage door, I still got to swoon with him.
Even though we're certain he's gay. I still think he would have loved my dress. I probably should have set my sights on the guy who played Rauol, he was pretty adorable too!

On Sunday we trekked to brunch with my Madrid Maraton partner in crime, Christy and then somehow ended up eating waffles as a post brunch snack? Win-win.

And then after a break at Barnes and Noble where I forced Sara to buy Rebecca (she's never read it! Have y'all read it? It's one of my favorite books EVER and, it's coming to Broadway this spring. I will be there, naturally) we were off to our respective stupid homes.

Stupid.

I'm still pinching myself, trying to make sure I didn't dream the whole weekend up!

However, my waistline says that I didn't. ;)

Thank you to my angel of music, Sara for an amazing weekend! I love you! Mwah!