Here I Go Again On My Own

I am sitting in the Detroit Int'l Airport, having just walked through the trippy, flashback-inducing light tunnel to find my connecting flight, having tried in vain to connect to the the internet on my BlackBerry, and having refused to pay the ridiculous $7.95 Boingo fee to connect to the airport wireless.  So I'm typing this on a Sticky Note on my Mac, knowing full well that I'll have to retype the damn thing into Blogspot, because for some reason, it won't allow me to cut and paste test into a new post.

Please excuse the ranting and raving.  I often find myself out of sorts on a travel day, and today is no different.  I've come to the conclusion that I shouldn't write any emails, make any calls, or say anything to anyone on a travel day (that should probably extend to making blog posts), because I am probably going to overreact to everything, and will no doubt regret any thoughtless complaints I make.  Today's grumblings are amplified by the fact that I am coming off a fantastic staycation with my family in the Twin Cities- so I have vacation brain on top of travel attitude, and am finding that the combo can be mildly unpleasant.  Sitting on the runway in St. Paul and having my leather shoulder bag fall apart didn't help matters any, but on the plus side I narrowly escaped paying an overweight baggage fee, coming in at exactly 50 lbs.  After all the brats and beer this weekend, It's amazing I didn't have to pay an overweight passenger fee, but seriously, folks...

It's been awhile since my last posting, and I'm sure my readership of one wants to know how my mucus situation has progressed.  I went to an allergist, and the test confirmed that I am allergic to Birch pollen and nothing else.  It makes sense now that the phlegm hit me so soon after getting back to MN, as it was the peak of the Birch pollen season (this is terribly fascinating, no?).  She also told me that the reason it escalated into such a nasty and lingering cough is because I am having a recurrence of asthma, which I haven't had since I was about two.  Apparently, allergies can trigger it.  So now I'm en route to Vermont with a whole cadre of different pills, elixirs, and inhalants (looks like I picked the wrong week to stop sniffing glue!), hoping that I can get through the first rehearsal without coughing up a lung on one of my castmates.  I normally don't take any medications (whiskey not included), so this will be interesting.

I'm looking forward with great anticipation to this next experience in Figaroland.  A new cast, new cuts, new director & conductor, a new chance to sing this fantastic music and try to do it justice and abide by my ideals, vocal and otherwise.  After this vacation, I'm rested and ready to go, but having been laid up with the plague for the last few weeks, I haven't kept up much of a singing regimen.  I'm hoping to get back in shape within a few days, and that this stupid asthma will clear up so I can give it my all.  

I'm also excited to implement a few tweaks in my technique on this job (techtweak?).  As you may recall, in some of my previous rantings, I expressed some disappointment in parts of my singing on the last go-round.  Before the mucus brigade hit me full force, I worked on making some of the improvements I mentioned (i.e. supporting the middle voice, taking the 'edge' off the sound), made some small adjustments that I think will yield some big results.  I'll keep my readership of one posted about that.  For now, I'm just going to try to get through it.  

Vermont should be beautiful this time of year, all that snow....I was told that I should keep an eye out for General Waverly and the Haynes sisters while I'm there.  Do Vermonters (? Vermont-ites?) get annoyed by people identifying them with White Christmas, as Minnesotans do when people quote Fargo at us?  Then again, Bing Crosby didn't end up running Danny Kaye through a wood chipper at the end of the show.  That would put a nice twist on it, though, no?  Maybe it can be added to the theater version?

OK, I need to stop blogging on travel days.  I'm too deranged.

My little daughter summed up how I feel this morning when she refused to get out of her crib, shouting, "NO shoes! NO pants! NO shirt! MY nook!"  I feel your pain little miss pie.  I really do.

AW

PS- As I retype this (like I said I would have to!), I'm struck by how petty my rantings sound.  Wow.