I may be Fuchsia…

I’m nearly done with my MBA. I’ve earned the M and the B and have three classes left to take, if I survive this semester, which is not off to a good start. I’m floundering due to the fact that I’m overwhelmed (story of my life) from doing a big expansion and marketing project in addition to managing and running the everyday programs and their details. I also refuse to spend my entire weekend studying; I would like to enjoy what’s left of my youth.

But truly my problem might be that this semester I’m in class without my MBA BFF, tear :’ (
I got so lucky to meet her first semester, we planned and celebrated our engagements and weddings together and have pushed each other through the program, sustained by coffee samples and desserts from The Happy Place. Being able to write notes to her (yes, I still write notes in class) and share snacks and carpool and study together makes it bearable.

“What are you going to do with the MBA?” is the question I am most often asked. Well, it began as a fall back plan, still is, though it has helped me be a better business owner. “That’s great,” says my father, “it’s not often you learn stuff in school you can actually apply to work.” He would know being in the group of “PhD dropouts”, he completed all the coursework but the dissertation would do nothing for his career. I happen to have several friends on the PhD track, all of whom threaten to quit at least once a semester. Once my friend applied for a job that was seeking, “PhD or PhD dropouts a plus”.

Oh, graduate school. Too bad no cares if you have almost an MBA.

My brother went to business school too, and he managed to meet all kinds of cool kids with even cooler parents with second homes in Aspen and open invitations to join them at the Indy 500.



He obliviously had quite a different experience than me.



I love to discuss classes with him and he loves to remind me how serious and conservative business school is.

He had me convinced I was the most vibrant thing in the place. Classmates don’t often know what to do with me, “Children’s theatre...” their voices drop off, they don’t really have a response.

But, this week, I got a splash of color, a bald guy with two hoop earrings, sporting a fleece vest, open to reveal a shirt that reads, “Shalom M-F-er”. Kid you not. The best part was he was the elected speaker of our group and had to stand up in front of the class shirt and all. I would have zipped my vest shut - - he did not.

I texted my brother immediately, who responded, “What kind of a school are they running?”

This gentleman happens to be the father of a 17-month-old and as I get to know him better I find he curses like a sailor when working on linear programming. Maybe I’m not the most colorful thing in the MBA program. I may be fuchsia, but this guy is chartreuse.

Everyone loves Costco

So my husband had the day off yesterday due to the inclement weather. I get home from my morning gig as “Training Coordinator” for a non-profit organization and mention that I really need to go pick up my contacts from Costco. Did you know they have an eye doctor there? Costco has everything...its rad.

My husband is an excellent shopper in general, more than once he has spotted a great sweater or pair of jeans for me that I would have otherwise overlooked. These finds were not at Costco, though you can buy a whole new wardrobe there too. My girlfriend has a rule that you should always wear a skirt to Costco, that way you can try on a pair of pants in the aisle if needs be.

Going to Costco by myself freaks me out, one weekday morning I braved it and not only had my cart swiped, but was also “bumper carted” painfully by several octogenarians.

Good news is the hub LOVES Costco. I stick to the list, but he must go up and down every aisle and often comes home with some “much needed” items. I feel like he needs supervision in this superstore, similar to the supervision needed at Home Depot or Harbor Freight Tools.

So I ignore my business “to-do” list, and we hop in the car. My list has seven items. Somehow we end up with a cartful and spend $218. “Well,” says the hub, “$40 went to a new phone…” That’s true; a new phone was on my other list. “And we did remember to use the coupon for laundry detergent”. One time I sent the hub by himself with coupons and he forgot to give them to the cashier. I ended up having to go back and stand in the “Forgot to give you my Coupons” line (yes, they have a separate kiosk for this) to receive my $8 cash. Totally worth it.


We keep trying to justify our purchases. “The rib eye steaks are much cheaper here than anywhere else.” True and we got snacks, he better start packing a lunch from now on! We did also find a screaming deal on allergy meds, hope the generic works.

All in all, it was some quality time together and we even spotted a local newscaster, everyone loves Costco. And our budget will survive, as long as we don’t go near a grocery store until November.

A Morning Person I Am Not

I am not a morning person - - those who know and love me will attest to this. Once my husband and his buddies took the day off from work to go skiing, arrived at our house at some dark hour, and had the nerve to converge in the kitchen and talk. My husband had left the door open and according to those present I growled at him in a demonic voice to shut the door. The boys were very amused and retell the story often; how I continue to be invited camping I will never know, guess I’m good for entertainment.

I long to be an early riser, to get all kinds of things done before lunch and relax in the evenings. I do not think I am capable of this. There’s a reason I went into theatre where the day doesn’t start until well into the evening. For years I taught parent and tot music classes that began at 9 am. I think the only reason I managed to appear perky was my long commute “to get ready to greet the day” and strong coffee. My acting skills certainly helped.


So the other night, as usual, I ask my husband to please get me up when he gets up and he’s incredulous . I mention that if he brought me coffee bedside, I may be more likely to succeed in getting up rather than hitting snooze for the next two hours. He doesn’t bring me coffee, but leaves the light on and it works.

I am up at 6:36 am! And I feel great.

I make coffee, do my AM Yoga dvd, jog with the dogs, hop on Facebook, And I’m out the door at 8:27 am to head to do some work as “Miss 1099 2009”.

Following my random tasks, I head out do run my errands. I have procured twelve pairs of scissors for a screaming deal and knocked out the rest of my shopping list. I run to the bank to make a deposit (Ahhh!! That’s the sound of hard-earned money going into my account).

I arrive home at 1 pm, make a tuna melt and sautéed spinach for lunch, work on some e-mails and curriculum tasks and I’m out the door by 2:20 for rehearsal, with a blue-ink invoice in hand.

My printer has decided that it will only print in cyan, yellow, or green, but that’s another story.

…rehearsal was exhausting and I’m feeling like I’ve lost my edge. I completely lost of control of the class, which in almost ten years of working with kids has never happened where I couldn’t get them back under control again. What am I doing wrong? I arrive home close to 6 pm, practically in tears, very uncharacteristic.

I am so exhausted from my day that I go to bed at 9:30 pm and sleep for eleven hours, getting up the next day at a more comfortable 8:30 am.

A morning person I am not.

Why on earth am I making homemade French fries?

I am a woman of modern times.

One who has too many roles and wears too many hats.

My life is one day after another of juggling so many tasks, splaying myself out in awkward positions lest I drop one, that I don’t even know where the time goes or what I have done that day. What did I do today?

I know I didn’t cross off everything on my “to-do” list. My futile attempt to get up early was thwarted when my alarm did not go off at 6 am. Instead, I awoke to my phone ringing.

My voice gravelly and my brain foggy, I had a 12 minute conversation with the Internship Coordinator at a local community college regarding my need for interns. I got the information, but still need to fill out the form. Do I even want an intern from there? The college is close to my house, but I work across town. Oh, I am having trouble wrapping my mind around the best way to acquire the free help I need. And how on earth do I solve the problem that this intern will have to handle money? I’m a bit paranoid as a rule, but giving over my barely-there budget to someone I hardly know so they can help me by doing all of my props and costumes shopping may be more control than I can let go of. The problem with being a small business owner is that you are so used to doing everything - - you become convinced that’s it just easier and hopefully better to just handle it yourself.

But enough on that, it’s 9:50 am and in ten minutes I’m supposed to be at Costco shopping for the weekend camping trip. Two hours and three stops later I have gotten the trip shopping done, handled my small grocery list and gotten scarves for today’s dance class. Oh, and some yarn to make a hooded afghan. Why can’t I just buy a baby gift like normal people? My grandmother asked me yesterday when I have time to knit. I don’t, in fact. A partially done row is sitting on my dresser, I think I’m supposed to “purl” next. It’s a seed stitch pattern.

…Now it’s 6:44 pm, I have not begun my school assignment which I said I would post to my group “by tonight”, my definition of tonight is by the time I go to bed, somewhere around 11. Meanwhile I’m wearing my “MRS” apron, listening to a book on tape, writing this, letting the dogs in and trying to make homemade French fries. I haven’t eaten enough today (I forget to eat when overwhelmed) so I’m a bit shaky and I keep thinking that the combo of shaky hands and the mandoline are a baaaad idea.

Why on earth am I making homemade French fries?

Somewhere in the midst of the real world deadlines, nothing gives me more satisfaction than having my husband come home to a clean house, dishes done and a nice dinner. Like I have time for that?! He doesn’t expect this from me, he knows I juggle work and school and our basic agreement is if you have time to cook, great, if not, leftovers or sandwiches are fine. We also have a freezer of gargantuan size that holds at least five different frozen meals at any given moment.

So why the need to be an “uberhousefrau”? I keep secretly hoping that if I do a really good job at housekeeping my husband will magically get a job with a salary that would allow me to do this full-time, have a couple of kids and maybe direct a play or two on the side. If only it were that easy. If only there was a stimulus package for that.

Fee, fie, foe, fum....

I am in week three of my fall production rehearsals; though this is the first week I have to work Monday-Friday. It’s only Tuesday evening, yet I feel like I’m jet-lagged. Maybe it’s because I’m listening to “The Time Traveler’s Wife” on audio book, a great distraction for my 25 mile (one-way) commute to my various schools.

Today was the first class meeting for my K-2nd grade Jack and the Beanstalk group, which I am also doing at another school on Wednesdays and will do at yet another school on Mondays come November. It makes my life a bit easier if I do the same theme at all of my schools, though each play is very unique as the student actors make up their own characters.

The Tuesday cast features a lot of testosterone, which is great, as one kid observed, “the boys finally outnumber the girls, that means we rule”. I didn’t tell him that I count as at least two votes.

The group consists of nine kids, all of whom I have worked with before, though not together. I have three extremely exuberant, BFF kindergarten boys, three older boys, two younger girls and one helper who has already been put in charge of wrangling my “triplets”. Luckily they all want to be The Giant, so we have Three Giant Brothers and the Giant Mother, perfect.

It’s actually adorable, they have begun chanting in unison, with great projected voices, “Fee, fie, foe, fum…” and other giant-y things like “we want sheep for breakfast”. Two of the older boys have decided to be aliens, who “perform scientific experiments on Jack” (as quoted from one of the aliens). Jack, as the story goes, is lazy and spends his days playing Guitar Hero. The aliens love to dance and that’s why they visit Jack, trying to exchange the famous beans for a guitar, though Jack refuses (enter two aliens at night who abduct the sleeping Jack). The Golden Goose and Mother Giant and best friends and that’s about as far as we got, not bad for an hour during which I felt I had zero control and should possibly pursue a career in finance (good thing I’m getting an MBA). As always, I have to remember that it’s really not about me; the important thing is that the kids have fun and maybe learn a stage direction or two.