Here Comes The Sun

Being Canadian, most may think I am accustomed to tundra like conditions with 40 foot drifts of heavy snow, tunneling out of my igloo each morning to reach my Bombardier snowmobile to pick up maple syrup and poutine for dinner.  (I don't recommend combining the two.)  Fortunately, over the years my job has brought me from the sunny Mediterranean and back to the misty fjords of Alaska.  

Today however, was a heat that I have not felt in quite some time.  I believe it reached 103 if I read the five day forecast right, and for this Canuck, that's just not right.  I love sun, and I'm not complaining about my lovely afternoon by the pool, but when I can't even go from my deck chair to the pool without receiving third degree burns on my feet, it makes me wonder, who on earth would want to live here year round?  

Canadian summers are (for those southern folk who glance at this) very warm.  With humidity we also reach almost unbearable temperatures, but it's a different kind of heat that doesn't make you want to jump into a sewer grate hoping there is cool sludge below.  I do miss my winters though.  Christmas without snow isn't Christmas to me, be it a gentle dusting of flakes, or a cartoon like pile of snow that prevents you from seeing across the street, that's what winter is about for me.

West Afton Place mid January

Back deck in June...or December

So for the next few days I will press on through Mr. Sun's blinding triple digit glow, and welcome back winter with open arms in Mexico, where it will only be 93 degrees.  

Better find my toque!

Cause You've Got To Have Friends

I am not a good friend.

I realized this when my good friend TRICIA LACKEY pointed out that my blog page didn't contain a category about her or my other ex-Sheridan babe SARAH SLYWCHUK.  So not only will I create a category for them, (by simply adding them as a label) I will capslock their names.  That should start to bridge the gap and ease the pain. 

Sarrey & Loods

Sidenote: Why is the word capslock not in capitals on the key?

Anyhoo, just when I thought I had peaked on the friend meter, I realized I had neglected two very important and wonderful people in my life.  The ones who point out my flaws and remind me that there were two other people in my class who could belt a half step higher then me.  If that's not friendship, I don't know what is.  So to them I say, I am sorry, and that my category list is now even better since you have been added to it.

Dishz, Michael and Andrea

Oh, Laurie (sorry LAURIE) has also noted that she isn't a category.  Laurie was my roommate during my years at Sheridan, so she was a surrogate classmate as well.  Anyone who lets TOM DELBELLO (I beat him to it) sleep in our computer room on an air mattress deserves credit.  Street credit.

Tom realizing I have no pa-cha

Mini Boobs & Boobs

Not having them identified as categories at least made me realize they may be reading this blog, so that's a plus.  (Or Trish just reads my categories, which would be weird but wouldn't surprise me or MICHAEL HUGHES.  Well, he's already a category but I like the look of the big names, so I'll keep him in caps.)

So for those of you who wonder, "When will I get categorized?"  Just write me.  Let me know you're out there.  Make me feel guilty.  Works every time.

Oh, and TRISH...while I'm polishing my ear training award tonight, I'll be thinking of you.  In all caps.

 

Winter's on the Wing

As the Alaskan season comes to a close (with very uncharacteristic weather I might add, thank you 23 degrees or 403 for my US readers, in our final port!) I just wanted to update all three of my readers that I will soon be headed back to the movie-set like fictional town of Santa Clarita, CA for the next 10 days to learn a new show.  Nothing helps a sprained ankle like hours of choreography.  Ha ha.  I'm such a dancer.

Anyway, this last Alaskan run I was very lucky to have my brother Mike cruise, see and smell the salmon fight for their lives upstream, miss every opportunity to go dog sledding, and enjoy a few pints of Spruce Tip Ale at the Skagway Brewing company.  I also discovered a lovely café called the Stowaway Café in Skagway that had the most incredible sandwiches and service I've encountered on this route.  This itinerary is definetely about the food and internet if you're a crew member.  Alaska can feel somewhat sad at times, so while I appreciate the beauty that is the wilderness, I'll be happy to arrive on the 45 degree beaches of Cartagena, Colombia in a few weeks.

We will be doing 15 day runs through the Panama Canal between LA and Fort Lauderdale.  The canal is truly a marvel, and a great day to do laundry.  I know I may seem ungrateful, but if you work at Starbucks, their mocha-frappa-latté-steamer-chinos don't seem so glamorous after a while either.  Again I say, I am lucky to have the job I have, but at the end of the day, it's still a job.  I welcome this itinerary change though.  A little vitamin D will be good for all of us.  (And the likelihood of getting locked in a tanning bed like Adrian Zmed did in Skagway isn't as probable in the ports we'll be hitting.)

So long cloudy skies and and foggy passages.  It's been a slice, but I hope we don't meet up any time soon.  I've got a tan to work on.

Sprain Has Sprung

So yesterday in the spirit of all things Zmed, (Adrian Zmed that is) I sprained my ankle doing a full out pony during the 50’s section of his show.  I know my friend Sarah will like this, despite the outcome of me hurting myself.  She always loves a full out pony. 

For those of you who stopped watching television after 1987, Adrian Zmed is star of stage and screen with such hits as T.J. Hooker with William Shatner, and Dance Fever featuring spandex and mohawks.  Mr. Zmed is probably best known for his role as pseudo-Danny in the movie Grease 2, and for my music theatre junkies, he’s on the original cast album of Children of Eden, and has performed the role of Danny in Grease more then anyone else…ever.  All joking aside, he’s a lovely, humble and funny guy, and we are lucky to have him on our ship.  We are basically eye candy during his show and perform in about 60% of it.  In approximately 2% of that 60, I “dance”.  (Please note the use of quotes as I never have nor will ever claim to be a dancer.  Whenever a passenger says “Hey!  It’s one of the dancers!”  I quickly correct them and say that I am a singer.  Some may see this as diva-ish, but I cannot even attempt to do what our talented and very underpaid dancers do, so it’s out of respect I make sure people know my movement abilities are limited.) 

So there I was in my poodle skirt and 10 pound blonde wig trying to impress my Dance Captain with my pony and wham!  My ankle became jello-like and flopped into a position even Gumby himself wouldn’t attempt.  I have never sprained or broken anything, so this feeling of pain and shock was new to me.  I carried on, (like the true professional that I am contrary to what my Cruise Director thinks) and finished the show with little more than a wince. Mind over matter kicked in and I did the second show reassuring myself I was fine with every step. 

Today is a new day, and my ankle is a tad swollen and sore.  A ship has most of the amenities that are on land, but one thing that doesn’t change is the doctor’s office hours.  Obviously we do shows in the evening when the office is closed, so last night my medical attention was a bag of ice and a post-show beer provided by my husband.  I have to say they both helped.  The ice kept my beer cold, and the beer kept my mind at ease.  It’s amazing how often performers hurt themselves, some permanently, and so many push through the pain to perform another day.  Last night put some things into perspective.  I always remind myself I’m lucky to have the job I have, but with the quick twist of an ankle it can quickly cease.  I’ve seen dancers go down with bad knees, strained shoulders, broken legs and worse.  We put ourselves through years of training and dedication to have it taken away with one count of eight.  Singers lose their voices with overuse, abuse and illness potentially losing their voices permanently.  It’s not your average office job.  Our bodies are our bread and butter.  Our survival counts on our ability to push ourselves physically and mentally, over and over again for the audiences’ enjoyment.  I hope the audience enjoyed it.  A good amount of people showed their support by walking out or falling asleep, but I don’t take it personally.  A situation like this just makes me realize how fragile it all is, and how quickly something can be taken away or put at risk.

So I’m off to the doctors this afternoon for a misdiagnosis of Norovirus, but with the help of my Chiropractor from home via email, I have been assured that ice, rest and a lower heel on my shoe is my best road to recovery.

Lesson learned.  Don’t drink and jive.

Back To School

My family is laden with teachers.  I am the "one that got away" per say, and ventured into the unsavory world of the arts with it's lack of dental benefits and a pension, but at least I get to see the world.  Look out Skagway!  Here I come!  Anyway, in a family full of educators, the first day back to school is always an exciting one.  I am somewhat strategically not home to assist with bulletin board preparation or pencil sharpening, but I was around to help both of my brothers when they started teaching.  Ten years plus and I think they have all that down now.  My sister-in-law is currently on maternity leave, and Mike is taking a year off for reasons that deserve their own blog.  In short, I'm glad he is taking the time.  It's well deserved, and it gives me the chance to have him tape all of my favourite shows and send them to me.  (Hint hint, Mike!  When are you getting a DVR?!) 

I've gotten off topic and I haven't even started.  This September is especially exciting as my niece Émilie will be starting school for the first time.  She will be attending a French first-language school because she is smarter then, well, me.  While she only speaks French to my brother Dennis, and even then it's rare, the fact that she can speak two and half languages, (she insists she speaks Czech if you ask her.  My Dad speaks it to her and she understands most of it.) qualifies her as a genius to me.  She has an amazing sense of Dlouhy-sarcasm, and can sing almost every lyric of any Disney soundtrack she has heard.  She also does a mean version of Bad Romance by Lady GaGa, but that's just between her and I en route to Wal-mart.  Again, I've strayed from the focus.  I cannot believe that she will be hopping on a school bus in a mere 3 days and joining the world of education.  

I remember my first day of school.  All of them.  Pre-Kindergarten:  My Mom walked me there, and I remember walking in and seeing all of the activity centers.  That's really all I remember.  That kitchen set-up was amazing, and my size.  Oh, and I had a beautiful pink towel for nap time, and my Mom wrote my name on it in big block letters.  I remember looking back at the door and seeing my Mom's face, a big smile and wave, and then I was 14 and going to high school.  It goes by so fast.  I don't say that to sound wise, it really does.  I still remember what I wore the first day of grade 9.  Let's just say it was perhaps the best Smart Set had to offer that 1994 fall, but what was I thinking?  My first day of grade 10 was the most uncomfortable due to the torso hugging plastic back brace I had to wear for the first month thanks to my back surgery.  Nothing makes a teenager feel more confident then headgear and a back brace.  My first day at Sheridan is still crystal clear.  I walked into the G-wing at the top of the stairs leading down to the basement and was met by a lovely Asian looking girl running at me yelling "I'm Rochelle!  Are you in my class?!"  She then gave me a huge hug, and three years later we were graduating.

I hope Émilie has a blast on Tuesday.  I hope a lot of things for her.  I hope her teacher is kind and patient like the teachers in my family are.  I hope the kids realize she is the coolest kid ever, and they are lucky to have her in their class.  I hope she isn't shy and uses her Dlouhy charm on everyone.  I hope the bus ride doesn't scare her, and that she finds a buddy on the bus to chat with.  I hope she remembers how proud I am of her and how much I wish I could be there to pick her up and take her to Tim Hortons for a strawberry timbit.  Most of all I hope Dennis and Christi-Anne remember to write her name on all of her stuff for her and avoid putting peanuts in her lunch box.  We don't want any grandmothers complaining through a tracheotomy tube about anaphylactic shock.  (Long story.  Just trust me on this.)

So have fun E.  Tuesday begins a long journey for you.  But don't worry.  Soon enough you'll be looking back wondering where it all went, and trying to figure out how to pay for your next dental check-up.  Benefits are over rated.  Trust me.