Tuesday, December 27, 2011

The Pinedas Take Manhattan!

It was cosy in my little Astoria apartment with both my parents and my brother Gerry staying with me the week between Christmas and New Years.  Just imagine five people - including 2 woman and a gay - sharing a single bathroom.  Mornings were not pretty.

It was also the first time in years that the family was together in the city for the holidays, so we did all the expected cheesy New York stuff.  Enjoy this joyous photo pictorial of the Pinedas let loose on the city.

Here we are, the Pineda clan posing in front of the only lights big enough to compete with those dazzling pearly whites!

"My, those are big balls."
"That's what she said."
Rim shot.

Mom strikes a dramatic pose in front of the Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree.  And people wonder where we get our flair for the dramatic from.  Genetics, people.  Genetics.

Gerry and mom delighted by the wooden trumpeter and his sizable package.

The family relaxes in front of Rockefeller Center.  Gerry looks like someone just pinched his bum.

After passing on hour-long waits at both Carnegie and Stage Door delis, we decided to nosh at Benash's, just across the street.  Here we see Gerry deciding on his plan of attack on an innocent pile of corned beef.  The food here was "meh," but today it was all about quantity over quality.

Monday, December 26, 2011

A Ukulele Christmas with the Bridesmaids

Too much sugar on Christmas morning!!
This year we finally got to sleep in late, thanks to no Christmas morning church jobs - well, except for Juan and Trish.  In deference to them, we decided to wait until they got home to celebrate the true meaning of Christmas, rampant consumer excess! 

It was the year of the ukulele in the Pineda household.  After Juan and Val purchased one for me, Val snuck out of the house to buy one for Juan after she was nearly driven to insanity by the hours and hours Juan spent "tuning" my uke prior to wrapping it up. 

Ukes are the new black.

With a revolving door of guests stopping by throughout the day, the wine flowed freely, strewn wrapping paper created a delightfully colorful fire hazard and crumbs covered bulging stomachs. 

After we ushered the final guests out the door, the family settled down together for what I'm sure will become an annual Christmas tradition, a viewing of the heartwarming classic, "Bridesmaids."  Is there any more appropriate way to end a lovely holiday weekend than with diarrhea jokes?  Methinks not.

Here are the Christmas highlights in pictures.  Happy Holidays! 

Everyone gets a stocking in the Pineda household.

Tiny Tim, watch out.

Val - when you're ears are bleeding and you hear Kamakawiwo'ole's version of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" on an endless loop in your sleep, remember, you bought the Ukes!

Mom and dad with mom and dad.  How meta.

Stogies in the backyard...stinky.

The Love's strike a pose.  One of these things is not like the other...

The Shores.  Looks like there was a sale on red sweaters at Kohl's.

Trish entertains us with her spot-on impersonation of the Virgin Mary.

The Pinedas with favorite student (shhh, don't tell the other kids), Zach.

After a hard day of drinking and eating, Val finally relaxes in front of her new faux fire, courtesy of Juan.

Sunday, December 25, 2011

The First Wave...

Mom and her white sons.  I picked out the hats.
Even after our marathon shopping session yesterday, Trish and I still hadn’t picked up anything for today’s guests, Chris and Dan.  So even though we dragged our tired asses into Jersey after midnight, we got up early on Christmas Eve to hit Kohl’s before the panic-stricken masses realized they had forgotten to get something for their crazy Aunt Lucinda and her beloved cat, Lord Chubby Pickleton III.

We arrived around 10 AM and the parking lot was already a bumper-to-bumper nightmare.  In another hour or so, the pavement would be strewn with the rotting carcasses of shoppers who dared get in the way of a suburban mom in her Range Rover and a prime spot in the lot.

Luckily, the store wasn’t yet completely picked over and the check-out line was still of manageable length.  So again, Trish and I split up for maximum shopping efficiency.  I ran to the back of the store and picked up matching hats and scarves for the boys while Trish ran to the Ladies’ Department for a few last minute extras for the weekend’s many guests.  In just under an hour, we were back at Juan and Val's and getting ready for the first wave of revelers.

Due to the sheer volume of gifts, we converted Juan's
basement workbench into wrapping central.
As I added some gay glitz to the last couple of presents, the boys arrived for dinner with their beloved baby, Dewey, a toy Dachshund. 

Mom and dad - well, mostly mom - refer to Chris and Dan as their white sons.  So she was overjoyed to have the whole family (including Gerry) all together on Christmas Eve for the first time ever.  Yes, Gerry finally ventured passed the Mason-Dixon line to spend the holidays in the civilized North.

The evening was marked by excessive eating and drinking - pretty much on par with any Pineda soirĂ©e.  The highlight of the evening's festivities? - Dan's scrumptious rum cake.  It's alcohol and dessert in one tidy little package - the ideal Pineda food. 

Dewey & Chris serenade us with the joyous sounds
of the holiday.
After dinner we exchanged gifts, Dewey led us in a few carols and we all passed around a pack of Tums.  The boys left early since they had to drive back to the city.  Bloated and drunk, we got dressed for an early Christmas Eve mass. 

This year, God delivered a Christmas miracle by not booking us for Christmas church jobs.  Well, at least he showed some pity on Val and I.  Juan and Trish still ended up working Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.  Still, in order to appease the parents, Val and I agreed to accompany them to Christmas Eve Mass. 

Giddy from the rum cake and tipsy from wine, Val and I unashamedly belted out the Christmas hymns at the top of our lungs along with the cantors.  The family sitting directly in front of us even thanked us for singing so nicely.  The young soprano cantor didn’t fare as well and bit it on “Oh, Holy Night.”  For some reason she couldn’t find her first pitch and did this crazy Patti LuPone-esque slide up to the correct note after seemingly guessing at her first pitch.  Awkward.

After a midnight snack and extra slice of rum cake, I was ready to jump into bed and ready to envision some sugar plums dancing in my head. 

48 hours to go...

Per usual, the day after the Holiday Spectacular my body decided it had had enough of full work days followed by long commutes and even longer rehearsals.  So with just a few days of holiday shopping left and only a few measly gifts on their way from Amazon via 2-day shipping, I found myself laid up on the couch in a generalized “blah” mood.  I’d finally used up all the lingering adrenaline fumes from the weekend’s whirlwind performance schedule.

But alas, luxuriating in my underwear and clearing out the DVR would have to wait until 2012.  On Thursday night, Trish’s friend Josh and his husband, Mike, paid a house call - though more to check out our Astoria digs (and visit Trish) than to see how I was faring.  No matter, they came bearing soup so I didn’t care about their motivation. 

Josh is on hiatus from the national tour of My Fair Lady (check it out and say "hi" if he's stopping near you).   He and hubby were making their rounds visiting friends before Josh had to return to the land of one-nighters.  They stayed just long enough to describe their new high protein/low carb diet while I noshed on some carb-licious dinner rolls, nodding in agreement even though I was actually thinking about how I could convince someone to run out and get me a piece of chocolate cake.

from thesun.co.u
By Friday, I was feeling much better.  But since Trish and I had to be in Jersey that same night to meet up with our parents, we had precious few hours to try and cross off the rest of our extensive Christmas lists.  Strategy is the key to shopping success, so we planned our route according to the “distance versus present-size” algorithm - small items at stores farthest from the subway first followed by larger items at stores closest to the subway last.  It works, try it.

I dashed out of the office early Friday afternoon, met Trish and made a beeline for Forever 21’s Times Square super store.  Yes, Forever 21.  And it’s not just for anorexic tweeners and ghetto Latinas with junk in their trunk.  Well, not only.  They actually have a men’s section and a plus-size section, thank you very much.  

After wrestling some jewelry away from some wholesome, Midwest tourist type in an “I heart Justin Bieber” jacket - you gotta’ do what you gotta’ do - we headed to the Bryant Park Holiday Shops for the next wave of consumer excess. 

Jewelry for mom, check.
 
Watch for Juan, check. 

Hat and scarf for mom, check.

Then we dashed off to the Eighth Avenue street fair, Godiva, Baked by Melissa and finally the Columbus Circle Market (more jewelry for mom, of course).  In just under three hours, we made Christmas our bitch!  Well, almost. 

Between the day’s marathon shopping session and Amazon purchases, I managed to cover all of our immediate family.  But I had forgotten that several family friends would be stopping by throughout the weekend.  We couldn’t let them leave the Pineda household empty handed.

Though exhausted and “shopped out,” we decided to make a few stops on our drive to Juan and Val’s house.  Even though technically we had one more shopping day left, there was no way in hell I was going to venture into the retail jungle on Christmas Eve.  Nearing the Clark exit on the Garden State Parkway, I started frantically researching store hours on my iPhone and mentally plotting our plan of attack based upon store closing times (we’re hardcore, baby!) - Marshalls first (closing at 10 PM), then Target (closing at 11 PM) and finally ShopRite (open 24 hours). 

I spent an inordinate amount of time at Marshalls looking for the right sized shirt for one of our students, Zach, who was stopping by on Christmas with his family.  He’s your typical straight, teenage boy, so we decided he needed the style counseling of a New York gay.  I picked out a smart blue button down and a couple of fabulous ties.  Also on our shopping list was William, a former conservatory student now at Lehigh University.  He’d have to make due with an iPad stylus. 

We closed down Marshalls and headed across the parking lot to Target.  With less than an hour to closing, we decided to divide and concur to increase our shopping efficiency.  Trish headed into the “ladies” department and “housewares” to complete the gift list for the rest of Zach’s family while I high tailed it to “books” and “electronics” for some added bonus gifts for our family.  

We shut Target down as well and then headed across the highway to the 24-hour ShopRite.  At least now we didn’t have a time limit.  We leisurely browsed the aisles for chips and dips and assorted cold appetizers, our assigned course for the holiday festivities.  Val, mom and BJ’s would be responsible for the rest.

Finally, after midnight, we pulled into Juan and Val’s driveway.  I’m sure we woke the neighborhood as the back end of the car scraped bottom with all the Christmas booty we had piled in the back seat.  Val groggily answered the door.  What was she doing in bed at midnight, anyway?  They must be shivering in hell.

Friday, December 23, 2011

Welcome home...


I just wanted to share this festive photo of our PCPA alums in the dressing room at our recent Holiday Spectacular.  Aren't they gorgeous? 

How is it they keep getting older while I stay remarkably young and beautiful?  No comment, please.

Thanks to Jen Dilzell (third from right) for the photo I unceremoniously stole from her facebook page.  Love ya', mean it!

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

The most wonderful time of the year (?)...

Finally, I can take a break for a couple of weeks - no students, no rehearsals and no performances - just my regular 9 to 5 stint.  I wonder how many other people consider their forty-hour a week day-job a “break”?  Likely very few, methinks. 

Opening "Be Our Guest" w/ Trish as Mrs. Potts and me as
Lumiere
With the smashing success of our fourth annual Very Merry Pineda Holiday Spectacular (try to and say that quickly ten times), the Pinedas wrapped up another ridiculously busy year.  Within the span of two weeks, we put together three different shows - our successful, but somewhat aggravating production of Pirates by our Young Artists, the Musical Theatre Class Showcase and the Holiday Spectacular. 

Per usual, turnover time between shows was quick.  Minutes after we had laboriously crammed the Pirates backdrop into its cardboard shipping box following the final Sunday matinee, conservatory students and alumni began showing up at the theatre waiting to fill the stage with holiday merriment.  Their youthful enthusiasm quickly devolved into the wide-eyed confusion I’ve come to associate with the intake of too much information coupled with too little rehearsal time.

I think the Pineda Conservatory motto should be changed from “…where dreams take center stage” to “divide and conquer,” as this seems to be our go-to rehearsal philosophy.  Val teaches a song to a dozen eight-year-olds in the upper lobby, Juan blocks a scene in the lower lobby with a couple teenagers and I try to choreograph a dance number (with half the dancers missing) on the stage and violĂ¡ - instant show! 

I came into the rehearsal process for the musical theatre showcase fairly late in the game - nine hours before the game, to be exact.  After Friday night’s Spectacular rehearsal, Juan asked if I would be the accompanist for the showcase, scheduled for the next night.  I, of course, said “yes.”  I had to be in Jersey all weekend for Spectacular rehearsals anyway.  What’s another show added into the mix?

So forsaking my coveted Saturday morning sleep-in time, I joined Juan and Val the next morning for more rehearsal, this time with the middle school musical theatre students.  For the showcase, the students picked their own songs and wrote original monologues leading into their songs. 

Apparently, there’s a shortage of prozac in the Central Jersey area.  Each depressing, angst-filled monologue was followed by another even more depressing, angst-filled monologue involving the death of mom, dad or both parents.  Pets and siblings managed to survive this fictional familial massacre unscathed.  This is probably how that town in Children of the Corn started out.

Juan's Cogsworth & Val finally a princess, Belle.

Later that afternoon - after a 3-hour Spectacular rehearsal, natch - the depressed middle schoolers returned, joined by the elementary school students, for a final run-through before that evening’s showcase.  The elementary school students were a bit of mess, but at least had the cute factor working in their favor. 

I have a personal theory about student performances - I think parents enjoy a student performance more if there is at least one train wreck.  Of course, I have no empirical evidence to support this theory and I wouldn’t recommend “planting” a clusterf*ck in a show on purpose, but parents seem to view pitch and rhythm-challenged toddlers as “cute.”  Give ‘em a perfect performance by a stage full of elementary schoolers? Well, that’s a snoozer.  A ditzy eight-year-old accidentally leading a whole line of kids off the stage into the pit?  Brava!


Despite a rough run-through and me having only received the music a few hours earlier, the performance went rather smoothly - no major jumped measures or forgotten cues and no pit fatalities.  Juan even managed to get one student to amend her monologue from “dead dad” to “dad hurt in a terrible accident.”  You have to pick your battles.

The next day we had a final dress rehearsal for the Holiday Spectacular.  This is somewhat of a coup for the Conservatory, as we’ve never had the luxury of a full run-through of the holiday show prior to the actual performance.  In previous years, we’ve set a 6:30 PM call time and done a speed through before the performance in order to set tempos with the accompanist (who is usually sight-reading the music) and to figure out mic hand-offs.  All the while, the cast is usually trickling in late.

This year, we had the fantastic Tony Bellomy at the piano.  He’s played rehearsals for our opera company in the past and is always a favorite with the singers.  Having him in the pit allayed at least some of our musical fears. 

Just the boys.
Though it took the entire four-hour rehearsal, we managed to get through every number except one - the elf number that Chris, Dan (see side bar) and I worked up.  Or rather, hadn’t worked up.  Let me give you some background info -

Last year at the speed through, about two hours before the performance, Val threw Chris and Dan into half a dozen numbers with no warning and little rehearsal.  Based on Chris’ complaints, I advised Val not to block Chris or Dan into any numbers in which they couldn’t rehearse, which, of course left nothing for them but our trio.  Fast forward to about a week before this year’s concert.  Chris asked me what he needed to learn for the concert.  I said, “Just our trio.  Since you were so annoyed by the last minute rehearsals last year, I told Val not to put you in any numbers that you couldn’t rehearse in advance.”  To which Chris replied, “I never said that.”  And curtain.

Luckily, the three of us have been friends for so long that minor squabbles like this rarely affect our friendship.  We’re probably more civil to each other than most married couples.

Chris and Dan are the only people I know whose schedules are as eff-ed up as mine, so the only time all three of us were available to rehearse our trio was the night before the show.  That meant we'd have to bang out a quick run-through with Tony just before half-hour call on the night of the Spectacular.  No sweat, right?  Except Chris wrote a pre-song scene that included Santa (one of our lovely Conservatory parents, but not really an actor) and a gaggle of elementary school students, not to mention a set change and full costume change for me (from a sexy Mrs. Claus to an elf with shoes taped to my knees).  Nothing like winging it on performance night with a nervous Santa and a bunch of eight-year-olds. 

Unfortunately, by Monday my brain’s short-term memory was already filled to capacity with holiday lyrics and blocking.  So when I met Chris and Dan for rehearsal at their apartment, I was a hot mess.  I could tell by Chris’ overly calm demeanor that he was in full panic mode over my lack of preparedness.  I assured him that I’d have my lines and blocking down pat by performance time, though in actuality, I wasn’t really sure I would.  Sometimes, lying is the right thing to do. 

Well, all our worrying was for naught.  We had a full house of appreciative parents and friends who didn’t even seem to notice all the f*ck ups.  Or at least they kept it to themselves if they did.  And I think I got about 90% of my lyrics and blocking correct - pretty good for a performance with virtually no rehearsal, not so much for a brain surgeon. 

Sure, we had the inevitable missed cues and a few suspect harmonies, but given the fact we had just barely gotten through the show once - two days ago - the evening was relatively catastrophe free.  My sexy Mrs. Claus version of “Steam Heat” was a hit, as was our (Chris, Dan and me) last minute, nearly rehearsal-less elf version of “Hard Candy Christmas.”

The opening mash-up of “The Most Wonderful Time of the Year” and “Be Our Guest” from Beauty and the Beast was also a crowd pleaser, and probably the only time in my life I’ll ever don Lumiere’s famous candlestick costume. 

The best part of the evening?  Chowing down on brownies and cookies after the performance.

Juan, Val, Trish and I have already started planning for next year's Spectacular and I have just two words for you - wooden soldiers.  Be afraid.  Be very afraid.

Monday, December 12, 2011

Ta-ran-ta-ra, Ta-ran-ta-ra OR the sound of my slowly dying artistic soul

Well, Pirates has come and gone - four shows with four different combinations of leading players.  All things considered, the shows came off quite well.  Unfortunately, we didn’t get the audience turn out we were hoping for, though the smaller audiences were surprisingly vocal and enthusiastic.

Sadly, like rehearsals, the performances were marred by a fair amount of line flubs and outright omissions (other than the official cuts we made during rehearsals).  I’d say the average line accuracy rate was about 75% - which, if we were going by school grading, isn’t horrible.  Though I don’t know many students who would be bragging about a “C.”  Hell, I’m usually suspicious of any restaurant in the city that gets even a “B” rating.

There was some exceptional singing, though, and it was a pleasure to hear many of our younger performers finally take center stage after years of paying their dues in the chorus.  

And our hard-working ensemble deserves some love, too.  They filled four shows with unflagging energy and enthusiasm that almost made up for some of the butchered dialogue.

The bottom line, I guess, is that audiences enjoyed the shows and for the most part, actors covered flubs well enough that the audiences were oblivious.  It would be an interesting experiment to use English supertitles for English shows (like they do at the Met) so that the cast would be forced to at least make an effort at accuracy.

I sound like such a negative Nellie, don’t I?  Don’t get me wrong, I want the kids to have a good show and have enthusiastic audience responses.  But at the same time, if students continually receive critical accolades from audiences for their semi-improvised, unprepared performances, why would a student bother to strive to do any better? 

I guess I take things too personally.  I should just stop worrying about it because the undue stress and aggravation just wears away at my already dying artistic soul. 

Or maybe it’s time to retire.  Or find different students.  Or just have a stiff drink.

Monday, December 5, 2011

Rehearsal hell

My inner monologue (minus the heels)
after this weekend's rehearsals.
Good thing I was able to cram in some quality drinking time before the weekend, because Pirates hell began Friday night with rehearsals for our Young Artists’ production.  Thankfully, I was spared the longer rehearsal period because Juan and Val opted to take the lead on this production.  I needed some much-deserved R&R after idiotically volunteering to direct and choreograph both of last season’s operas, La Traviata and The Bat.  It seemed like a fun idea at the time - at least until around the fifth or sixth weekend of reverse commuting to NJ for rehearsals.  Will I ever learn?  I doubt it.

For this highly abridged version of Pirates of Penzance, I was relegated to accompanying and conducting the “orchestra” - that is, if you consider an out-of-tune piano and a violin an “orchestra.”  But we sounded lovely anyway, thank you very much.  Remember, it’s about quality, dear readers, not quantity.

You’d think the weekend before opening - not to mention after several weeks of rehearsals - the cast would at least have a perfunctory knowledge of the script and score.  I thought wrong.  I won’t name names in order to protect the ignorant, um, I mean innocent, but this has got to be the worst prepared cast we’ve had in the history of our ten-plus years of producing opera. 

Rehearsals started in October.  How is it possible not to know your lines and music after two months of rehearsal?  Even worse, then have the nerve to giggle about it onstage while giving us a half-assed apology.  Back in ancient times, when I was performing in regional summer stock, we would mount five full-length shows in six weeks.  Granted, some of the shows sucked, but we at least knew our lines and blocking.

Maybe I’m being a bit harsh, but then I think of our Major General.  She learned all her lines plus an extremely difficult patter song in two weeks (the original actor dropped out of the show unexpectedly).

Sometimes I get the feeling our kids - not all, but some - don’t really care about the show.  They just want to be front and center.  They want the accolades but don’t want to put in the effort to earn them.  To those few, I say “good luck” with that philosophy in the real world.  To the rest, I say “thank you” for putting up with the posers and for having to sit through our yelling and screaming and scolding.

And people wonder why we’re always so irritable right before a show opens.

Rant over - until next rehearsal.

Friday, December 2, 2011

Trish's Real Birthday Meal

Last Saturday’s brunch was only the beginning of a weeklong 30th Birthday Celebration for my baby sister, Trish.  I guess “baby sister” sounds somewhat ridiculous when the "baby" is now three decades old.  No matter, it’s just an excuse to drink too much and eat out anyway.
 
Cupcakes!

For this first official Birthday meal, I made a reservation at Fatty Crab, a new Malaysian joint on the Upper West Side.  I wanted to keep it low key and casual and since I would likely be picking up the check, decided to make it an intimate evening with just Trish, me and Billy.

But first, I made a lunch hour stop at the Cupcake CafĂ© to pick-up a bunch of Trish’s favorite buttercream-frosted cupcakes in lieu of a traditional birthday cake. 

In a Birthday miracle, Billy arrived at the restaurant at the same time we did.  The host seated us immediately at a cozy corner booth.  The restaurant’s dark, moody lighting and blood red walls immediately brought to mind a funky backwoods brothel somewhere in the Appalachians.  Not that I’ve been to one.  Lately.

Armed with a Dark and Stormy (dark rum, house made ginger syrup, ginger beer, lime) we proceeded to down our weight in spicy Malaysian cuisine from the eclectic tasting menu.  The prices seemed a bit high for the portion size, but the food was tasty and we were drunk so it didn’t really matter.

Our fabulous waiter even supplied us with a complimentary bubbly alcoholic birthday beverage - again, we were drunk so I don’t remember what it was, or our waiter’s name, for that matter - and a candle-topped plate of sponge cakes.

On our way out of the restaurant, Trish noticed a Beard Papa’s across the street.  So though we could barely button our jeans, we were compelled to order cream puffs for the cab ride home.  Let’s just consider them appetizers to the birthday cupcakes waiting at home.

Enjoy the pics and don’t drool on your keyboards. 

Dark and Stormy - the drink, not me
Duck with Thai chilies
Spicy noodle with poached egg
Lump crab in chili sauce
Mussels in yuzu broth
Fried shrimp on pork belly
Birthday cake #1 & Billy's hand.
Notice the whorehouse-red walls?
Birthday cake #2!
"I'd rather be nine people's favorite thing thana hundred people's ninth favorite thing."

Jeff Bowen, Lyrics "[Title of Show]"