Loooong hiatus, sorry love.

Dearest Ginger,

Sorry I have taken so long to reply. Let's get this puppy back up and running, whaddya say?

So as you know, I'm back to living in the woods. It's pretty sweet; I've just been learning a new job writing grant proposals, cooking freezer-loads of soup like a crazy Italian mother of ten for my fabulous cabin-mates, and watching my hair grow slowly but surely as a New England winter kicks in good and proper.

You know what my new favourite thing is right now? These photographs by Sacha Goldberger of his grandma as a superhero. Have you seen these already? If you like this one here, you should check out the whole lot. They are amazing and make me feel like an exploding cannon of awesome. Kapow! You can see the whole series here.

I'm trying to plan a trip to D.C. soon, but first on my list is Nashville. Oh my goodness I am excited. I'm going to take a photo outside Dolly Parton's house and post it to Paper Tiger. Just you wait.

What is new with you, mon petit canard?

xxx
Rebecca

Halfway Point

Dear Sarah Jane,

I like your angry walrus a great deal. So I sent you a *real* letter about my daytrip to Rhode Island on Sunday… which I guess will probably reach you in about three months. One awesome thing I didn’t mention was the sheer number of crazy old people walking along the beach with metal detectors. Metal detecting seems to be a very popular pursuit in Rhode Island (along with complaining about the postal system ha ha). It cracks me up. I think someone should take the idea to its logical conclusion and dress up in full Jack Sparrow regalia while they shuffle and beep along the beach at dusk. “Argh me hearties! I just found… a nickel. And a lost spanner.”

So as of this week I’m halfway through my time in the States. Isn’t that nuts? It’s been a rose-tinted miasma of stinking hot nights, press releases, marshmallow fluff, reading O Magazine in the laundromat, talking to sweet old Jewish ladies in the box office, cut-grass smell, exposed timber (“ooooh rustic!”), cafeteria food (BBQ Mondays, pizza Thursdays), and editing endless program inserts. This week I get to meet a journalist from Vanity Fair and the almighty chief dance editor from the New York Times. We also have a company currently onsite entirely comprised of seven-foot tall Amazons and Adonis-types, who like to sun themselves on the lawn outside my office window. It’s extremely distracting.

So I need to start thinking about what I do next. Do I want to stay in Canada for a visit, or to live? After September I have two suitcases, no job, and no house. I think I might try and get a short term contract in Canada (maybe another festival) and then see how I feel. Part of me wants to come straight home; there are things and people I miss terribly. One of them is you.

Much love,

Rebecca

I Am a Fail Whale

Dear Sarah Jane,

Today was dumb. I booked a patron some tickets for the wrong night, had to placate a company manager, phone ran out of credit, folded hundreds of programmes for our community day, and realised my favourite dress is getting too tight (damn you, tatertots! I shake my fists at your tiny, buttery, potato-filled mmmmmmmmm.. No! No!).
I'm in a filthy mood so I thought I would write a list of irritating things. Some general, some specific; ALL irritating. Enjoy.

1). People Who Think I'm British
Having to explain several times a day to cute old Jewish ladies from Long Island that I'm not from London is starting to wear thin. "I know you're speakin' the Queen's English bud I jus' don' unnerstan' you."


2). The Way Gala Darling Stands in All Her Photos
Listen Gala, I quite like your blog. I like how you're sort of like a skinny pakeha Oprah, with your advice about embracing your flaws and baking cupcakes and shit. But please stop standing with your legs all turned in like a manga character with polio. It's irritating. Sorry.


3). Massachusetts Mosquitoes the Size of Sparrows
I have a theory starting to emerge about this. Maybe there's a whole underground blackmarket in steroids out here in the rich-kids land of the Berkshires. Perfect abs and pecs to go with their perfect holiday homes and vast amounts of perfect leisuretime. The mosquitoes feed on a hot summers night and BAM! It's like a 1950s horror movie, like the Incredible Shrinking Man in reverse.


4). Fucking. Twilight. Saga.
The Oatmeal sums it up nicely.


5). Sleeping alone.
This is the dumbest thing of all, worse than Gala's polio legs. I miss that boy back home. Can you put him in a Fed-Ex parcel and ship him over here?


xxxxx
Rebecca

Calorific

Dear SJ,

So like I mentioned the other day on FB, I'm trying to plan my very first trip to Walmart. Inspired by the blog, I figured I should go all out and get a costume for the event. Any ideas or pictures gratefully accepted. Send me concept drawings and I'll try my best, but keep in mind I'm in the woods. Also, I'm planning to go to Hooters for dinner afterwards. So. Excited. Now if only I can find a mechanical bull, my life here will be complete.

You'll be pleased to know I'm eating breakfast every day up here in Massachusetts. I think it's the mountain air. Or the fact that a team of people get up and make it for me every day. Ha! Junior and Betty, you are my godsends. The food is good, but kind of fatty. And I'm eating just like... just like an equine animal of some description. Today I had waffles, scrambled eggs, three cups of coffee, a pulled pork sandwich, onion rings, brussell sprouts, two cups of peppermint tea, two chicken drumsticks, salad, cold noodle salad and a peanut butter cookie. That is such an obscene amount of food. I'm trying to balance it out by doing a couple of dance classes a week - they're free for all staff here so I'm been getting back into my leotard an' busting out some moooves. Yee-ah. Just hope I can still fit into said leotard by the end of summer.

The other day my colleague Ellen was teaching me how to use 'y'all' correctly.

Scenario One: You go into the lounge and your friends are sitting there eating pulled pork sandwiches and onion rings. You want some Reeses Peanut Butter Cups, and you don't want to have to drag yourself off to the dairy yourself. So you say, "Are y'all going to the store?". Translated, this means: "Are any of you going to the dairy?"

Scenario Two: You go into the lounge and your friends are sitting there eating waffles and drinking chocolate fribbles. You want a Whopper, but you want people to come with you so you can play songs on the jukebox together. Someone mentioned going to Burger King earlier, so you might be in luck. So you ask: "Are ALL y'all going to Burger King?". This means, "Are all of you going to get burgers together?".

It's a whole new vernacular.

Miss all y'all. xx

RTG

Breakfast

Bex darling:

I was wasting time at work and I saw this amazing site. I know you've had this resolution to eat breakfast more often but have been struggling and I thought of you - the breakfast pictures are so pretty! After reading I felt inspiration and the desire to find some oats and make some porridge. Also I wanted coffee but quelle surprise.

xxxSJ