Ode to Darlene

You were:
An amazing woman
A superb cook
A mother of three
An adopted grandmother of four
A friend to hundreds
A story teller
An important person


You were my grandma when I did not have any grandma's left. You were the last grandma I had and even though you were not my 'real' grandma, it certainly felt as though you were to me. I could tell you ANYTHING and you would give me advice. I would write to you when I was little. I have seen you more in the last two years then I did for the previous 3. Even when you were sick and about to die in the hospital, after having 2 heart attacks, cancer surgery, a trechiotomy, and a diabetic coma in a five weeks... I STILL thought you were beautiful. I feel pride in visiting you in the hospital once a week while you were here. I feel pride that when I came to visit the third time and you were lucid and awake, that we were able to communicate and I made you laugh. You gave hugs that were so tight that I thought that maybe I wouldn't be able to breathe, but there was no way in the world that I would ever want you to hug less tight, or less long. I LOVED listening to your stories about how you and grandpa met and fell in love, and I know that you love telling them. I think that your nickname of Fuzzy was awesome. I think that you had three of the most diverse and amazing children that you possibly could have had. (Aunt) Bernie means so much to me that the thought of her sad sends me into waves of weeping. You are the person who taught me how to make pancakes. How to wait until the little bubbles on the edges didn't fill in when they popped. You never pressured me about getting a boyfriend, but you always asked. You took care of my doll Mavis when she was 'sick' when I was 5. You loved telling people about the cow at the fair. You would walk around with me at the fair and would go even if it was hot and you didn't want to. You would open your house to my entire family and you loved us so much. You would make everyone a different meal if my mom would have let you. You would make me kolaches because you knew that I loved them. You made me a blanket for the doll bed that grandpa made for me. You took the squares that Grandma Bozich made and put them into an Awesome blanket for me when I was 11. It made me cry because it was so thoughtful. You never treated me like I was a kid. When grandpa died, I made sure that you were not going to just follow him right away, and you made sure that I knew that you had no intention of doing that. You would always wear an old fashioned nightgown and slippers. You would always cook with cast iron skillets. You were never in a rush. Things would happen as they would happen.

In conclusion:
Darlene Bates, you were a beautiful person, inside and out. You will be missed.
LOVE, your Grand-daughter,
Julie

Miss you

I recently ran into someone that I don't see anymore and I don't talk to anymore. Not for a lack of trying on my part. When we saw each other, we hugged, and she said, "I miss you!"
At first, this smacked to me of insincerity, since, if she did in fact miss me, she could call-email-facebook-visit. (we live in the age of communication for fucks sake) Then, I thought about it, and the numerous times that a similar situation has happened to me over the years... and well maybe it IS sincere, but just not accurate.
Maybe instead of missing ME per-se, she missed the good times that were had at the time when we were close. And there were so MANY good times. Much laughter, which there is with ALL of my friendships.
It is sad when people grow apart, but when you see someone that you used to be really good friends with, don't say 'miss you'. Say, 'Man, we had some good times!' It flavors the current relationship with a clear conscious. There are no regrets of 'miss you' which seems to me to say, 'wish we still hung out'.

Sincere or Fake?

It occurs to me that 'regular' theater people are a bit over the top. I have noticed that while improvers can BE over the top, they are not when they are being themselves. I wonder if that is part of keeping it real, even in our own lives? The over the top- ness of stage actors comes off to me as being fake, but I find myself being the same way when surrounded by them.
It is a titch disconcerting.

Improv Question for the day...

What do you do when your scene partner gives you nothing, and takes everything you give and puts it essentially in a void?
In relation to that, what techniques can you use when your scene partner throws so much random crap at you that there is NO possible way that you can rationalize it all?