I Am Sophie - A One-Woman Play

Corinne Shor wrote & starred in this one-woman show about a young lady who fell in love with Paris and the French language so much so that she changed her name from Kate to Sophie and returned to the US with a very pronounced French accent. The Pacific Resident Theatre is a very small venue with 2 stages. This was on the smaller one, and I attended the show with my good friend, Vivi.

Ms. Shor is a vibrant force of nature. She was delightful, funny, smart, and vulnerable throughout. The stage setting was minimalist -- just a table with stools stored underneath, a chair, couch, and chest. There were items of clothing hung on the wall. Working with these few items, the actor took us to her apartment in Minnesota, her family's business (a chandelier store), and a waterfall at the end of a hike. The audience had to use their imaginations, of course, but Ms. Shor sold us with her use of props and her well-written story, which centered around the devastating loss of her beloved father whose terminal illness drew Sophie back from her favorite city in the world. Every so often, when I think, "Hmm, I wonder if I could have been an actor," a performance like this reminds me of the skill and talent required of those who do this for a living, and I am humbled. Brava, Corinne Shor. (I do wonder if Corinne is her given name.)

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My Like-Hate-Hate Relationship with Dave Ramsey

I cannot go to sleep in silence, so I usually have talk radio on as I drift off. Most times, the cadence of the talking head becomes the white noise I need. But sometimes I actually listen to the conversations. As much as I hope for Clark Howard, Dave Ramsey happens to be the head that's talking when I go to bed. Gradually, I became aware of his philosophies. He has many, but I'll focus on just a few: 1) Get Rid of All Debt - I really like this one. As someone who wants the points my credit card awards, or the cashback my other credit card awards, I feel like I'm always a month behind. I pay off my balance in full each month, but by then of course, I have lowered my bank account and have less to spend in the current month. I do wonder what it would feel like to pay just the bills for my current living expenses. I plan to give it a go, but I won't buy Ramsay's book or go to Financial Peace University. "Where debt is dumb, cash is king, and the paid off mortgag...

WELL, HELLO! I return, a new person & personally new.

This is weird. I haven't blogged in ages (clearly evident), but a friend who read my latest email about my travels in and around LA suggested that I do something more with my writing. She suggested that I blog or journal or publish my travel writings. I am opting to do the former for now. It's been too long. I need to write to keep my brain active, so I shall cut & paste the email I sent to my friends about my latest solo excursion. A little background: I sent an email to my group of 9 other friends to see if anyone wanted to go to the California Museum of Art. I found free tickets on Goldstar and although it was located in Thousand Oaks, long car trips never bothered me. My friends were courteous but succinct -- I was on my own because...it's Thousand Oaks and too boring to be worth the trip. Here is my take: I went out to Thousand Oaks, searching for this museum. I didn't see much of the city because GMaps showed my destination was right off an exit. I drove, s...

While I can still think thoughts...

Who would imagine the changes that occur as one ages? We all know that physiologically, things happen -- we get gray hair, the waist disappears, joints creak, etc., but I have experienced some startling changes that remind me I'm no spring chicken (NOTE: Using the term "spring chicken? -- definitely a sign of aging). I find partially used tissues around my living space. And by "living space," I mean the recliner I sit in each night to watch TV and in the pockets of my comfy robe that I wear religiously every evening. When I was a kid visiting my grandmothers, I was saddened and puzzled by the random tissues I saw in their wake. I don't know why this happens, and it doesn't matter because it's just me at home, but it's kinda disturbing when I do my vacuuming and find one tucked into the side of the chair cushion. How did I become so attached to tissues? I distinctly remember when I was young, thinking how strange it was that lunch ladies had to wear ha...

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