I’ve been in a blue funk for most of the week, though I came out of it for a bit last night during an unexpected thunderstorm. There was brilliant lightning and intense rain, and though the storm itself was here and gone within about 45 minutes, it was a refreshing change from sun and sun and more sun.

Fuzzy mentioned today that he has to pop down to Boca Raton sometime in July, which has me thinking about Orlando vacations. I’m not really a Disney fan, but I’ve never been to Epcot and the last time I was on a Universal Studio tour was in California when I was twelve.

What I really want, however, is the beach. The wind chimes sounded much like the clanging of ship’s bells during the beginning of the storm last night, and I sat on the deck and listened to the water sloshing in the pool and pretended I was somewhere coastal.

I don’t want to live in Florida, but we live too far from the beach right now – lakes do NOT cut it – and this must be fixed.

I was slow to jump on the podcast bandwagon, for reasons I can’t really explain. Nevertheless, I’ve since seen the proverbial light, and am now addicted to the medium.

Recently, I’ve become hooked on two free offerings from the American Theatre Wing, which organizations gives us the Tony Awards among other nifty programs, like sending theatre professionals into New York City schools, or making it possible for NYC students and their parents to attend special performances of various Broadway shows that also include a discussion with cast and crew members.

Downstage Center is a true podcast featuring in-depth interviews with performers, producers and playwrights. It’s available via RSS and XM Satellite radio as well as on iTunes.

Working in the Theatre is a video cast available on the ATW website or via iTunes and is produced in partnership with CUNY (City University of New York). It’s a panel-discussion show that rotates epsiodes featuring performers, producers, and playwrights.

Both are fascinating if you’re a true theatre geek, and interesting enough for the casual audience as well.

Crossposted from my LiveJournal.

Popcorn eaten while at the movies for a late matinee showing of The Happening was consumed with a rare treat of Dr. Pepper (I’m not really a soda drinker), and as a result my tongue is thick, both physically and metaphorically. I feel mentally parched, and water isn’t quenching my thirst.

I used the money on an Aveda gift card I purchased for myself several months ago during a sale to pay for my salon services today. I went over by $20. That’s not so bad. My hair is not entirely unpinked, but we used a sort of cinnamon-y brown (they call it a golden brown, but it’s less yellow than that) and a color called “Boysenberry” (which I prefer more than any ordinary jam hair color) which is a warm light-chocolate brown with red-violet in it. The dye, before application, looked much like the color of chocolate milk – sort of half-way between purple, mauve, and brown, and yes I know that’s one too many halves – it made me happy.

I had purposely NOT ordered more ATOMIC PINK Special Effects dye from Amphigory, because ten days ago when Fuzzy was out of the country I was certain that I wanted to be completely “normal” hair-color-wise. Then, Thursday night, I panicked. “I told the Algonkian people I have pink hair. They’re going to be expecting it in August. What if I’m really unpinking because I think I need to be more ‘professional’ and not because I’m bored with the color?” I said to myself in a sort of hyper babbling sort of voice. We went to the mall (which I never go to, because I do not really like malls), where not only did I get stopped by many people who told me my hair was cool, but I ended up giving pink-dye advice to a gaggle of teen-aged girls who were encamped at the dye carousel at Hot Topic. (I went to Torrid first, actually, but they didn’t have the color I needed.)

Torrid/Hot Topic no longer carry Special Effects. Well they sort of do, but it’s a special mix/rebranded version made JUST FOR THEM, and the bottle said it was alcohol based, which scared me. I purchased RAW dye instead. It’s a softer pink, but it did the job.

The end result? We touched up the pink around my face and in select parts of the rest of my hair with the RAW, and used the other two colors to do low-lights over the bulk of the pink. So, I still have punches of pink showing through in different layers and my bangs are mostly pink, and the effect is like the pink sky during sunset, with warm cinnamon-y browns as a backdrop.

Think of fresh raspberries dusted with cocoa powder. It’s like that.

It’s only been about 12 hours, but I like this new color. It’s a bit more sophisticated – more artsy, less aging punk – and the plan is to gradually de-pink until the cinnamon and boysenberry are the only colors.

And then I think I shall add a few highlights of vivid blue or purple, for fall/winter.

Now, my brain is thick, but unlike my tongue, it’s thick with thoughts, ideas, so many things I must pin to paper before they float away.

I was up all night with a brain burning with activity and a sick dog. The former is still abuzz, the latter is now stretched out along-side my right leg, in blissful sleep, and the warmth of his tiny body is comforting in a way only Animal People truly understand.

I tried to catch some sleep today, but a gorgeous thunderstorm kept me awake. I feel like I’ve been waiting months for rain, and I didn’t want to miss it. Storms are so magical to me.

I’m torn about my hair. I was ready to go in and have them strip all the pink out, last week, but now that I’ve had time to think, and had a mall full of people tell me they love my hair, I’m not sure I want to completely de-pink. In fact, I was at the mall because I’d been so certain that I was DONE with pink hair that I didn’t re-order my usual color. The pink I ended up with is a softer one…maybe it will be a good transitional shade.

I just started reading Eat Pray Love. I was initially put off because of the title, but I’m two chapters in and so far I’m good with it. The author’s approach to spirituality and religion is much akin to my own, except that I like the “smells and bells.”

Natalie Goldberg once took a classroom full of students on a walk between raindrops. Sometimes I try to do that on my back deck. To step between the drops isn’t to defy nature, but to perceive it from a different angle.

Clay is my muse once again. He taught me a secret to success that I hadn’t considered before. I am in all kinds of love with the universe today.

Bed now.

I’ve always enjoyed reading travel guides, and over the past few days, I’ve had a lot of time to explore online versions of Frommer’s and Fodor’s among others, but when I think of travel books, really, my brain first goes to a series of mystery novels written by the man who invented Paddington Bear.

The novels, written by Michael Bond, are a series of gastronomic mysteries featuring restaurant critic Monsieur Pamplemousse and his faithful bloodhound Pommes Frites.

These are comic mysteries, and always involve mishaps that occur while Mssr. P. is on a mission, trying a new restaurant to see if it deserves to be included, or have it’s stockpots (their rating system) increased, in Le Guide.

Somehow, in my travels, I’ve never seen anything as absurd as a man being koshed on the head by his own baguette, or being locked in a pay toilet.

I have, however, often paused to observe young lovers, arguing couples, and parents with children, and been as amused watching those interactions, than I ever was with the fictional detective and his pooch.

After two weeks in Hong Kong building out a new client’s data farm and stringing miles and miles of CAT5e cable in fashion colors, my husband is finally on the first leg of his journey back home.

Actually, he’s been on it for about 90 minutes, and he texted me before take-off that it was, “…a crappy old 747-400 without updated power or an entertainment system…” Poor guy. 14 hours in the air with literally NOTHING to do. I hope he remembered to buy a book. Oh, well, it’s an overnight flight – he can sleep for a lot of it.

You have to love traveling across the international date line, though. In Hong Kong, it was 2 PM Monday afternoon when he boarded the plane, and when he gets to his stopover in San Francisco, it will be 11:30 Monday morning.

I wonder if there’s a time paradox in arriving before you actually left?

I don’t know what the best anti wrinkle cream might be, but judging from the Tony’s tonight, Patti LuPone does. That woman has not aged in decades; if anything, she looks younger.

Liza Minelli, on the other hand, still scares me.

Watching the Tony’s is always a bit weird for me. There was a time in the mid-nineties when I watched them to see if any of my former classmates were winning anything (they often did), but before and since, I’ve watched them because the beginning of a musical’s overture is still a dose of magic for me. I like movies, but I LOVE theatre.

The problem is, now I want to write a musical instead of finishing my book.

Note to self: ONE project at a time.