e_juliana: (alaskan poppies)
Otto Jerome Moravec passed away this morning after a short decline. He is survived by his loving wife, Dorothea, his children, Diane, Jerry, and Richard, and his grandchildren, Juliana, Justin, Noah, Laura, and Kristina. He was much loved and will be much missed.



J & grandpa sledding
J & grandpa sledding

e_juliana: (drinking skeleton)
My darling mother has a birthday in the middle of this month. She is almost as obsessed with Slings & Arrows as I am, but doesn't keep up with media releases and whatnot. I successfully kept the release of the 1st season DVDs secret from her, and she found out purely by accident two days before I was to see her in NYC and present her with the DVDs, so she almost went out and got herself the DVDs.

The fact of the release of the 2nd season was known, but I was hoping that a) she wouldn't realize when they came out (October 24th) and b) she would realize that since it was within a month of her birthday, she shouldn't get herself such things. No such luck. Of course, I found out about this AFTER I had already given Amazon my money for the DVDs and gift wrapping and shipping.

She still is the most adorable thing ever. I emailed her with:

You'd think that THE WOMAN WHO IS HAVING HER BIRTHDAY SOON would know
not to get anything.


And she responded:


Well, okay, maybe I DREAMED about what might happen IF I had a chance to see
season two.  I currently do not have a copy in the house, and IF my
wonderful daughter was so wonderful to send such an incredible gift; one
that I would really treasure and take such delight in, then I would be the
luckiest mom in the known world.

Works for me!!








I guess I'm sending up See's Candy for her birthday.
e_juliana: (Default)
At the bar tonight, I mentioned to K (after he gave me a backrub that loosened me up enough to give me a headache - I am one large bundle of stress) that I'm feeling very lonely right now. He nodded, looked around, and said, "Well, at least you're among family."

That I am. That I am.
e_juliana: (fucked-up girl)
That line will still reduce me to tears, every. single. time. I wish I could explain to some people, my husband especially, how deeply I believe that line and how keenly I miss the parts of my family I've had to leave behind, for one reason or another.

It's hard for someone with deep-seated trust issues to build a family, you know? Really hard.

This is my family. I found it, all on my own. It's little, and broken, but still good. Yeah, still good.


I hope I'm still good.
e_juliana: (happyhappyjoyjoy)
Thanks to the triple-punch of massive dentistry, truck accidents, and the IRS, we're broke. Very broke, and have been for almost 2 months now. I had to scrap plans to take vocal classes, we're not going on any trips any time soon (we still haven't gone on honeymoon), we're not producing any shows - it's not as bad as it could be, obviously. We're not in danger of eviction (although Maruchan Ramen has been a household staple for a while). It's still not been comfy.

So, when the Guthrie announced a Directing Master Class with Joe Dowling, I looked at the price tag, whimpered, and hoped that the class would be repeated whenever we had some extra money. Zach and his mother had different plans, and presented me with a very early birthday present - the money for the class.

It's possibly the most perfect present ever. It's exactly what I wanted and needed right now. Class size is very limited, so I might not get in, but that doesn't matter as much as the fact that I have such wonderful people in my life. I cried when I saw the check.

Just perfect.



IOW - The Manolo, he is very wise:

This, it is one of the things the Manolo he loves about the blogging, the community of the peoples who can together solve the problems, or at least talk the problems into the the ground.
e_juliana: (Default)
Y'all may think I'm doing a lot of complaining. It's true, I am. However, best to complain to my extended network of friends/family than to blow up at Mother Dear, so here we go.

Last night hammered something home that I've know for a while: I really don't belong here. What it added was the feeling of being simultaneously utterly foreign and bound to old notions of one's self.

Let me explain: When I'm in the States, people look at me as if I'm some sort of exotic bird when they find out I was born and raised here. But here, I am exotic. I dress differently, I look different, I move differently. I have heard through the grapevine that someone I used to care for very deeply now thinks that I am pretentious, that I've "gone Hollywood". To a point, that stings. To a point, that's true. I do expect better things out of life than this place can ever give me, and I won't hide how far I've changed. I just hoped that the people I grew up with would see the potential and how far my wings have spread. If they were to be disappointed in me, I would hope that it would be the disappointment of not shooting for even more. But, that is not the case.

I feel bound here, bound by the old expectations. Many people have expressed surprise that I am marrying, saying that I seemed such a free spirit. This saddens me, because all I wanted when I was here was someone to spend my life with, who got me, who, when shown a new door, would say "Let's go," and walk on through. Someone who wants to spend the rest of their life doing theater and hanging the moon. Clearly, said person was not here, and I'm glad they weren't, because Zach gets me best of all, and we show each other doors.

Anyway. Babbling. Will go spend times with parents now. Back home on Monday, none too soon.
e_juliana: (impulse)
Day One - Arrive in town, be greeted by loving relatives. Repair to a riverside cantina where we can observe the mating habits of homo northernus redneckus and nosh on authentically native deep-fried fish and chips. Go home, realize my room is one of the brightest in the house due to strategically placed skylights that have no shades in them. Also realize that it is bloody hot and there is no fan in the house. Fall asleep anyway.

Day Two - Arise early, still on home time. Attempt a run with mother and dog, and only achieve half of the intended distance, due to ungodly heat and jet-lag. Visit with grandparents and be shown things that I will apprarently inherit when grandmother shuffles off this mortal coil. Wince. Shower, cool off, and go shopping for food with which to cook the evening's meal. Feel like the stupidest of tourists when shocked by prices for watermelon. Oy. After meal, which includes grandparents and stepfather's close-to-senile mother, go to karaoke with mother. See a dear friend or three, sing "I Touch Myself" on a dare from the KJ (who is a friend of myself and my mother), drink champagne cocktails, realize exactly how far out of place I am.

Day Three - Wake early, decide to roll right back over and go to sleep again, at least until hangover wears off. Go to lunch with mother and grandmother and some friends of my mother who happen to care for me as well. Terrible service, terrible food, good company. After lunch, go to Fred Meyer's for a fan for my bedroom, as it is still ungodly hot, and promptly lose grandmother in the aisles. Find grandmother, purchase fan, go home, take a nap. A long one. Wake up, go to dinner with mother, stepfather, and stepfather's mother, and then join grandparents at movie theater to see Around The World In 80 Days. Wince through the movie, go home, have ice cream, go to sleep in newly darkened room with new fan cooling it off. A bit.

Day Four - Wake early. Again. Get up and go for a 4-mile run with mother and dog. No shade, no water, just heat and dust and sun. Die. Complain about dying and about global warming, which is causing it to be 90 bloody degrees in the bloody middle of bloody Alaska, just 100 bloody miles below the bleedin' Arctic Circle. Stick tongue out at mother as she laughs and soaks up the heat. Stagger home, shower, go shopping, come sit in uncooled loft of piano store and type up update.

Tonight - see performance of kid's musical theater camp. Mother wrote the script. It's very cheesy.

Tomorrow - drive 2 hours to go whitewater rafting and eat pizza.

Monday - Home, sweet home. Civilization.

Oh yeah.

Jun. 7th, 2004 02:01 pm
e_juliana: (raven)
The other stuff that's bugging, and why I will go to Alaska even when I don't want to?

My grandmother is having some sort of procedure done on her heart the week before I go up. She and my mom will be in Anchorage for the procedure, and if everything goes well, they'll be back home the day before I get there. If things do not go well, my uncle Rich will trade places with my mom. Rich will originally be in Fairbanks, taking care of my grandfather, because Grandpa can't go more than a day being by himself. He's just too far gone at this point. Barney won't be able to help, because in addition to having to run the store, he'll be helping his mother (who's pretty far gone herself) settle in to her new home. They're moving this poor woman from Needles, CA to Fairbanks, AK. She won't be able to step foot outside for 6 months out of the year!

Anyway. Mom told me what the procedure is, but I seem to have a mental block about it. I just can't remember.

So, yeah. There's that. My flight up is direct to Anchorage, so if Grandma is still there, I can get off the plane there and drive up with Mom. Which is not a bad drive, by any means. I just hope it's not necessary.

April 15

Apr. 15th, 2004 09:02 am
e_juliana: (raven)
One year ago.

I am so very fucking grateful for and to each and every one of you. For the chance to know you, even a little bit, for the chance to expand and connect and support and be supported. This has not been the best of years, but you all made it a little bit better.

Thank you.
e_juliana: (b&w)
I'm protesting the '70s glam icon quiz (though I got Lou Reed), because there's no women on it. I'm not conversant enough with that part of music history, but I'm pretty sure there weren't any women in glam rock (so it makes the protest kind of silly, I admit).

But it got me to thinking, and I realized that the '70s - in my whacked-out head - are very male years. Yes, there's disco and the transsexualness of that, but disco was so loudly drowned out by punk, by angry white men, by Viet Nam, that the '70s feel male. Beyond punk, there's Alabama and Lynrd Skynrd and CCR and generally shaggy men with facial hair and bell-bottoms.

There's folk, which was heavily female, and there's Joan Armatrading and Joan Baez and Pat Benetar. I know all of that. But that's not my immediate reaction to the concept of the '70s. Huh.

(I repeat, all of this is in my head. I'm aware that I'm woefully undereducated in a lot of areas. Someday, I may do something about that.)



Tying in nicely to that is - Rob. (Most of my favorite pictures of Rob are one's from the '70s and early '80s, where he's all shaggy and bad-ass, teaching his son how to drink....)

Rob scared me a little. His eyes always had a touch of wildness to them, so that you weren't quite sure what he was going to do next. Normally, it was mocking you, but he could have just as easily jumped up and suggested taking a joyride in a tank. And then gone and done it. I don't think he understood the concept of "impossible to do".

Neverless, I loved and adored him, for a few reasons. One, he and Sadie raised this awesome, wonderful, loving man named Zach. Two, he welcomed me into his Corner of Snark whenever Sadie's family gathered for the holidays (they're loud and hyper. We'd just sit and drink and make comments to each other). Three, he was, um, well.... I was going to say a good father figure, which he was, but in an entirely unconventional and very Rob-like way. Hence Zach's first full sentence: "No thanks, Dad, I don't want any more beer." He was a good Dad, and that's something I've lacked in my life, something I've looked for. Fourth, he adored me, and a Curtis's adoration is an all-encompassing, forceful thing. It's not something you brush off lightly or fail to return.


I don't know if I can ever explain the past year and a half. It's chronicled here and in the hearts of my loved ones, but I don't know that any explanation will be forthcoming. Falling back in love with Zach has actually made it harder to move past everything, because we (and I) need to confront and solve problems instead of just going "Well, that happened" and moving on. Which is where I was in September. I feel I've done the cha-cha many times this past year. Maybe now we can switch to a tango.

Miss you, Rob. I'll take care of your son and wife as best I can, then I'll catch you on the flipside.

The weekend

Dec. 1st, 2003 08:38 pm
e_juliana: (stare)
T'was fun, even with all the dramatical happenings.

Wednesday, worked, teched, and then went to the Market for karaoke. Many people were there, some that I hadn't seen in a while. Good times, even if I only got to sing once ("Slide").

Thursday, got up early and Zach and I cleaned the entire apartment, top to bottom. There was an amusing moment when Z didn't have anything to do (he was waiting for me to finish sweeping so he could start mopping), and nowhere to rest. 3 minutes later, I realized that I couldn't hear him and went looking for him, eventually finding him hiding in a closet. With the cat. I damn near died from the cuteness.

After cleaning and (completely gratuitous) food shopping had been accomplished, we went over to his aunt's house for their family celebration. That was.... interesting. It was the first Real big gathering since Rob died. Easter was only 5 days after Rob's death, and everyone was still sort of in shock. Zach doesn't remember a thing about Easter. So, Thursday was a little hard for the family, especially since Rob's birthday was only 6 days earlier. I'm sad to say that I didn't quite realize how badly it was affecting Zach until we were driving home. The gathering was good, of course. Just difficult.

Got home, got prepped, and our guests started arriving. We officially had Too Much Food by the second arrival, and the food just kept coming. Sally made the turkey and wonderful green beans as well as a double challah, RPK & Carl brought frozen veggies because they are boys through and through, Bob brought an amazing wine, Glenn brought a gorgeous array of cheeses, David brought pumpkin cheesecake, Matt brought 2 pumpkin pies, Kelly arrive late and brought another pumpkin cheesecake and a layered spinach torta thing. Zach brought spinach dip & Hawaiian bread, and I made mashed potatoes, roasted root vegetables, and banana-cranberry bread. We were stuffed little monkeys. After eating, we played games and watched Eddie Izzard and just generally enjoyed each other's company.

I did not go to work on Friday. Too tired. I did run, and then discovered Zach's truck had gone kerflooey again. So, I went to tech, had dinner with Carl, and opened A Tuna Christmas. It's a fine show, if a completely whoring one. :) The guys in it, Michael and Jim, are two very lovely human beings, and are very patient, all things considered. It's their third year doing the show, and the producer was very slow to get them dressers (2 of which are absolutely needed), deck crew, and board ops. I would have been screaming in frustration long before they even let on anything was wrong. So. The downside to the darn show is that I have Christmas carols in my head, and the country versions at that. Gah. At least I'm not working retail, though.

Saturday was a two-show day, and I didn't go home between shows. Just stayed at the showboat, slept and read scripts. After the second show, Michael dropped me off at Zach's, and Zach and I stayed up for a while, talking and looking at house listings. Eeeep.

Sunday, exercised, did the show, ran 9 miles, picked up Zach from his closing show and went to a party at his director's house. That was quite fun, as it was the cast of The Foreigner, which Peter directed, and Othello, which Peter is in. The annoying part was the presence of Norm Coleman and the producer of The Foreigner and of Tuna Christmas sucking up to him the entire time. Gah. However, Peter's wife Karen owns 4 horses and needs people to help ride them. We got into a huge discussion of riding styles and favorite breeds and whatnot, and she might let me go ride her horses. Eeeeeeee! It's not even residual 12-year-old reaction that makes me so excited about this. This summer, when I went riding with Carl, I remembered how much I enjoyed it, and how natural it feels for me to be in the saddle. I'd love it if that worked out.

Um, what else was there? Well, Zach is sick with a nasty non-productive cough and a sinus infection, so naturally he has a show opening on Friday. Sigh. My marathon training continues apace. I had to reschedule a play reading because I took the tech gig. I felt a little wistful last night when talking to Angie and Brian, who are getting married this month. She's very excited and having fun with the planning and her mom and family's helping and yaddayaddayadda. I guess it's partially that I don't have a very cohesive family. We all love each other, of course (I may be excluding the Baptist Missourians from this, as I never talk to them), but we're all very independent and well, rather lazy when it comes to communication. I didn't even know that my aunt Karen was going blind until a year or so after she told my grandparents. Yipes. And hearing Angie's tales and watching Zach's aunts flock around his mom is wonderful and heart-warming, but it makes me a little wistful for something I've never had. Which is silly, because I'm incredibly grateful for my chosen family. Even though I have a very hard time keeping in touch with them, too. Le sigh.

So, over this Thanksgiving weekend, what did I remind myself that I'm grateful for?

- My family, both blood and chosen.
- My health.
- The Buffistas. You all have held my hand, smacked me when I needed a clue, given great advice, and just generally been there.
- The amazing human capacity for love.
- Champagne.

Thanks.
e_juliana: (raven)
Today was Rob's memorial. It was standing-room only and beyond. Zach spoke, other people spoke, it was good.

I only cried twice. Once, when Zach was speaking, and said "When he was in the more difficult stages of his illness, and you weren’t quite sure if he was with you or not at that moment, one thing always cued you in. His eyes would light up and his smile would beam at the simple sound of juliana’s voice. He was just crazy about her…."

sniff

And when Chet, Rob's father, presented Sadie, Rob's widow, with the folded American flag that every war veteran gets at their funeral.

Blessed be, Rob. Rest in peace.

In fact.

I am putting in the full text of Zach's eulogy for his father, here )

Rob

Apr. 15th, 2003 07:59 am
e_juliana: (raven)
Rob Curtis died at 1:30 a.m. on April 15, 2003. He is survived by his wife, Sadie, his son, Zachary, his father, his brother, and his sister. He will be missed.

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