Tivoli!

Last night, I met up with my friend Grace and went to lovely little Tivoli. Rumored to be Walt Disney's inspiration for Disneyland, this amusement park (for lack of a better description) is something of a national pride for Denmark. With Michelin-star restaurants, gardens, concert venues, rides, and an upcoming Tivoli Hotel, the place literally has it all. And even if you're not big on crazy, upside-down sorts of rollercoasters, it's a great place to go walk around and grab a beer with friends in the Scandinavian summertime. When I moved to this country last year, my dad and I went to Tivoli a couple of times (including his last night here); we got beer at the brewhouse, rode the Himmelskibet, saw Kaiser Chiefs at Fredagsrock, and just enjoyed ourselves some quality Tivoli Time.

I was going to see the Pantomime Theatre's premiere of La Ventana. I have a couple of friends in the Pantomime, including a few who recently arrived in Copenhagen from the good ol' USA for the Tivoli summer season. So last night, though it was raining and not-so-nice outside, I went to see a little outdoor ballet and to enjoy my first Tivoli date of the summer. The Pantomime had a fantastic premiere, Grace and I had a wonderful time (albeit under umbrellas and hoods) watching them, and we enjoyed a little premiere reception afterwards onstage, complete with a soundtrack of Disney songs provided by a marching band playing near the peacock stage. All in all, a great evening: A little rain won't ever stop me (or the Danes) from enjoying some Tivoli fun.


Welcome to Tivoli :)


The entrance to Tivoli is lined with lights, trees, and happy people entering and exiting the park. I know it well, and every time I walk in, I smile.


This was a new one to me: a Tivoli Truck! Painted on the side of the mini-car was this wonderful sign. I love the Tivoli Truck.


Before the performance, we grabbed a glass of wine at a karaoke bar, sort of in the back of the park. It's on a wonderful little lane full of these weird shop signs, and I love walking along looking at them hanging down lining the street.


The Peacock Theatre, where the Pantomime performs. When the performance starts, the peacock collapses down into the stage. And rumor has it they're getting a new one next year, so catch the original while you can :)

Video Killed the Radio Star

Last night I went with my lovely friend Martin to see he Athelas New Music Festival at Teater Republique, in Østerbro. The program was broadcast live on Danish radio station DR P2, and it was an absolutely fantastic way to spend "lille fredag" (also known as...Thursday, or "little Friday").

First up: New York classical music group Bang on a Can All Stars. They were amazing, both to watch and to listen to. Ashley Bathgate played cello; Robert Black was on bass; Vicky Chow, piano/keyboards; Ian Ding rocked the percussion; Mark Stewart (with a long gray ponytail and a flower power outfit) played electric guitar; and Evan Ziporyn was the clarinetist and 'designated speaker' of the group. They played five pieces, and rocked so much they gave an encore. The first was a piece just for Mr. Stewart, the hippie/guitarist. He began the evening with Steve Reich's "Electric Counterpoint." The rest of the 'All Stars' joined him onstage after that, and proceeded to perform some very, very cool classical music. David Lang's "Sunray," Michael Gordon's "For Madeline," Pelle Gudmundsen-Holmgreen's world premiere of "Convex-Concave-Concord," and Julia Wolfe's "Believing" made up the awesome program. My personal favorite was the world premiere of Danish composer Pelle Gudmundsen-Holmgreen's, but seriously: The entire hour (save for some beer-toting lads behind us who apparently thought Bang on a Can was something a little more plugged-in) was pure entertainment, and I loved it.


Bang on a Can rockin' out. I don't get to see musicians play very often, since they're usually in the orchestra pit and I'm onstage dancing to their music, but when I do, I always find myself fascinated by watching their hands. It's choreography of its own, in a way.


The New York group (represent!) taking a bow before their surprise encore.


After the performance, Danish composer Pelle Gudmundsen-Holmgreen was interviewed on DR P2 about the world premiere of his wonderful, surprising piece "Convex-Concave-Concord."


Before the next hour, we spent time chatting with Martin's friends in the lobby of the theatre. I noticed the Danish design light fixtures everywhere, and snapped a "Hipstamatic" print. (I love my iPhone, in case you couldn't tell. It's going to be a problem, socially.)

After a 30-minute break, we went back inside for something completely different. Danish composer (and one of Martin's professors at the music conservatory!) Hans Abrahamsen's "Schnee" is made up of ten canons composed for nine instruments. (Martin, a composer at the conservatory, explained the construction of the piece in greater detail to me, but I won't duplicate that here because I'll surely mess it up.) The title is German for snow, and in the program (translated from Danish), Abrahamsen said: "The snow is silence, it transforms the landscape and creates a unique atmosphere. 'Schnee' is a series of meditations on various aspects of snow." The piece is long--about an hour--but...wow. It begins very, very quietly (much of it is); you could have heard a pin drop in the audience. I could feel the people around me sort of leaning in to check if they were hearing notes coming from the instruments. It is difficult to describe, as a piece of music; it definitely has to be listened to from start to finish, but basically: The piece is winter personified, through music. It's methodical, and clean, and sometimes Tim Burton-creepy, and very "Danish" in a way; it sounds like everything you associate with snow, from a blizzard to icicles to flurries. Abrahamsen uses the instruments in genius ways...like the percussionist rubbing paper against a table to perfectly imitate the sound of someone walking in freshly fallen snow. It was one of the coolest things I have seen and heard in a long time, and I was so very glad Martin had invited me to come along with him. The composer was there to see his work performed, and the audience went absolutely nuts when it was finished and he joined the musicians onstage to bow.




The musicians, conductor, and composer taking well-deserved bows after "Schnee."

We all went out for a beer after the piece was finished--Martin, me, and some of Martin's friends from the conservatory. We found a wonderful little bar called Pixie, enjoyed a couple of beers from the excellent menu, and ended the evening with fun conversation in a very "hygge" cafe. All in all, a great "lille fredag," made all the better since I rode home on my newly-fixed bicycle, Detective Lenny Briscoe.


A bit dark, but on the wall outside Pixie, someone had spray-painted a mural of a Pacman game...but adorkably renamed it 'Pixieman.'


Along with food and beverages, Pixie also serves up "Kærlighed & Hygge," or "Love & Coziness." They also have a map of the world taped to the ceiling inside. Our group concluded that this was for unfortunate patrons who maybe have too much to drink and then pass out on the floor; when they wake up and think, "Where am I?" they can simply look above their heads and use the map to locate themselves.

Cheap Monday on a Wednesday--The Rain in Spain Falls Mainly on...CPH (plus more CCBC)

A photo-filled post today: So far, summer in Scandinavia is treating me well. After spending the day chronicling Cross Connection's rehearsals yesterday, I went with Cecilie and Amalie to a store opening for clothing brand Cheap Monday, sponsored by Cover magazine. Cecilie DJ'd for a bit while Amalie and I played "groupies," and after she was finished we enjoyed the party for a bit before going to Bo-Bi Bar, a "hyggeligt" place I'd never been to before. Some photos from the party:


From my perch behind the DJ booth--very crowded, a little rainy, with excellent music (tak, Lassen!).


Across from us? Goofy bartenders. They didn't bartend so much as continuously opened up bottles of Tiger, but they were fun anyway.


Love me some technology.


My lovely, funny, gorgeous friend, Amalie.

Today was a rainy one in Copenhagen, and I took that opportunity to play around with my new iPhone and its wonderful "Hipstamatic" camera application. (Yes. I finally got a "real" phone, and in doing so, went against my personal vow never to jump on the Steve Jobs/iPhone bandwagon. I thought my iPod Touch was enough. IT SO WASN'T.)


A huddled group of very wet people wait to cross at Kongens Nytorv. I liked the colorful umbrellas. (Also, to the girl running in heels: I love me some stilettos, but honey, just look out the window. This is Hunter boots weather.)


After a long vacation parked in my courtyard (due to a collapsed cable wire and the fact that I'm flaky and lost my bike keys), today is a celebratory one: I welcome bicycle Detective Lenny Briscoe back into my life. You've been missed.


I pass this often, walking in Christianshavn. And I love it. And with my new fancy piece of technology, I can just snap a picture so quickly and not have to find my camera in my abyss of a bag, unzip, zoom, bla bla bla.

Finally, I have been recruited to promote Cross Connection Ballet this summer, as previously noted. Please tell your friends and enemies and strangers to join our Facebook group here, and follow on Twitter @ccballetco for updates. I pinky promise that this is a fantastic group with wonderful things happening, surely worth a click of your mouse :) And now, this blogger is off to see Bang on a Can, followed up by some "German snow music" (whatever that may be; it's being called simply...'Schnee'), in what will hopefully be another dejlig aften i København.

Sommerferie: Cross Connection, Roskilde, & Sunshine

School's out. Summer vacation is in. With a minor injury preventing me from dancing for a couple of weeks (and honestly, after a ten-month season, I need a little break), I'm on holiday in Copenhagen. Lucky for me, a bunch of other dancers are sticking around. Some have Sommerballet; some are just enjoying Copenhagen; and some are sticking around for Cross Connection Ballet Company's new program in June (and later, in August).

I am sticking around for a combination of reasons. Number one, I'm fixing my foot with the help of the physical therapists still around at the theatre. Nummer to, I'm enjoying the ample amounts of sunshine in Copenhagen until the big star in the sky goes to sleep for a long, long time later this year. Numero tres, I am hitting up Roskilde (yes, I will be camping out in a tent, not showering, for four days, all in the name of rock and roll). But fourth, and certainly not least, I am doing some free PR for my friends' company, Cross Connection (linked to above).

Run by Constantine Baecher and Cedric Lambrette, two RDB dancers and friends of mine, this is a really cool project. They enlisted me to help with some Internet promotion for their summer programs, happening at Skuespilhuset in June and Bellevue Teatret and Musikhuset Århus in August. My addiction to Facebook--and the Internet in general--should help me do this. It's an exciting, cool thing to be a part of. Plus, it gives me a summer project of sorts, and a fantastic way to hang out with (and help) good friends pretty much every day.

For a preview of what lies in store for June, check out this trailer, made for CCBC by Royal Danish Ballet soloist/CCBC dancer Marcin Kupinski:



And if you're in Copenhagen June 25-June 29, I highly suggest you come to Skuespilhuset to see Cross Connection Ballet Company's new program, "Outside In." Five works (three world premieres, and two recently completed ballets), all super-cool :)

Danish Lessons, Chapter 9

So that's it. Ten months ago, I moved to Copenhagen; two nights ago (well, if I'm being honest? yesterday morning), I ended my first season with the Royal Danish Ballet. I feel like I have been here forever, and at the same time like my time here has gone by in approximately two minutes, give or take a couple hundred days. And so, after a first season marked by a lot of big changes (personally and professionally), I present one last installment of Danish Lessons...before summer school, of course.

1. Going into your last program of the season, know two things: Your hair may never be the same again, after all of the hairspray and teasing and pinning and taming this program involves. And you will end each night dog-tired and sweaty, but very happy.

2. If you go out with some friends one evening-before-a-free-day, you might see some zombies walking around your lovely adopted city. Fear not, because obviously it's just the Copenhagen Zombie Bar Crawl. A night for those interested to dress up as the living dead, and drink in multiple locations. Feel free to talk to these people, pester them with questions regarding the professionalism of their makeup, or the obvious: Why?

3. Perhaps--and this may or may not be an effect of a certain Icelandic volcanic eruption that shall not be named (mainly because it would take so long to type its name here)--the month of May involves a disconcerting amount of rain. And one day, hail. But do not fret. Keep hope alive. Because one day, you will emerge from Operaen to find flowers in full bloom, weather warm enough to require only a sweater, and the beautiful, wonderful sun, whose existence you had begun to doubt. On this day you will walk home slowly, with an idiotically gleeful look on your face. This is ok, but do be careful not to close your eyes and soak up the sun on your face for too long, because you might bump into a dreadlocked guy with multiple piercings who smells of marijuana.

4. One Saturday night, go out with some friends to a place in Frederiksberg called Cafe Intime. This place will have shoes hanging from the ceiling, so you will immediately love it. You will love it even more when you notice the old man playing old-fashioned piano in the corner. And then when the waiter gives you a plastic swizzle stick shaped like a muscle man, the love will grow. After Intime, the "hyggeligt" factor of your night will increase when you run into more friends at your favorite place in Kødbyen, and you end up sitting around a bonfire, having a beer and enjoying the newly bearable temperatures, excellent music, and wonderful company.

5. Sometimes, your friends and colleagues will be a part of a big photo festival. In their photos, they'll be naked, snapped doing everyday things at the theatre where you work. Go see the exhibition opening. Not only will you have a great time supporting your friends--who look fabulous in the photos--but you will also have a chance to have yourself a very fun evening.

6. It's ok to be a total ballerina bunhead and feel deliriously happy after every performance of your personal Holy Grail Balanchine ballet, Serenade. It's also ok to abuse your genetically huge hair on a semi-regular basis by teasing it out to astonishingly aerodynamic proportions--and to completely relish the opportunity to unleash your inner man-eating insect, complete with blood red lipstick and Amy Winehouse eyeliner--for The Cage. Just be sure to make the transition from one to the other quickly, otherwise you'll end up getting to the stage seconds before the curtain goes up, running across like a madwoman with finger-in-socket hair, yelling a few profanities and being thisclose to missing the beginning of the ballet. I'm not saying, I'm just saying. Be fast.

7. So maybe, with the end of the season coming and summer plans up in the air and waves of nostalgia overwhelming your overthinker's mind, you get to feeling a little bit...if not blue, then just blank. This is alright. As long as you listen to your friends, and take them up on invitations to go out even when you're not feeling like it. Because then you'll end up seeing a small hot pink battle-themed art installation on an energy box, followed by weirdly catchy ethnic house music at a multi-level nightclub, ending with shawarma, and at the night's end feel like you had regained some much-needed "muchness."

8. If you live in a city which provides you with this chance, take it: Eat brunch on top of a post office. There's nothing wrong with a wonderful view of Copenhagen, and there's everything right with Sunday brunch. Plus you can call your parents and be all, "Oh no big deal, I just brunched at the post office."

9. Let's say that for a week or so, your metatarsal has been acting cranky. The end of the season is so close, and you love the last program, so you get some physical therapy and it's ok. And then let's say that in the last entrance of Serenade, in the second-to-last performance of the season, your foot decides to go on holiday onstage. First of all: you're in a place where it's ok to cry, so go ahead and do it. Second of all: Make the hard, smart decision and end your season a little early. It's ok. People are understanding, and supportive, and it's not ideal but it's the right decision to make. Cheer yourself up the next day by attending the theatre's opening of Ofelia Beach with your friends. Soak up the sunshine, enjoy a cold beer, and know that time off is exactly what your foot (and, ok, the rest of your body) needs. Also have an epiphany: People are not robots. And plus, even robots malfunction.

10. If you go to one of your favorite apartments on Planet Earth--aka Constantine and Stauning's--to record a little sketch for the end-of-season party, and you're walking around their beautiful courtyard, talking to Charlie on the phone, you may end up staring in the face of a rabbit perched on someone's balcony. Somehow, with everything you've seen and experienced this year, this doesn't really phase you. Snap a picture and continue on.

11. Your season, unfortunately, ended a bit prematurely. But you realize you were healthy but for one show (the last, which stinks, but still); you made personal strides and professional progress; you visited new places and made wonderful friends; and you had a fun, good first season. Maybe you realize this while out to lunch the afternoon before the last day of the season. Maybe this inspires you to do something drastic, to take a risk and just go for something. And maybe you find a hair salon with an appointment opening, and you sit down in the chair and say, "If it's a bad idea, don't let me do this, but I want to cut it all off." Maybe that's the best move you could make to cheer yourself up and start the summer holidays by getting rid of a whole lot of hair. Tillykke to you for not overthinking and for being impulsive and for upping your self-esteem.

12. The last day of the season, go support the ballerina troops in their final performance. Just because you cannot be dancing does not mean you can't enjoy watching from the wings. In fact, doing so will bring on another epiphany (look, the end of a season results in a lot of these, so bear with me): You're proud to be part of this company. And you had one of the best, weirdest, most wonderful years of your life. You're going into the summer holiday feeling like you grew as a person and as a dancer. And all of this realization before The Cage. That's a lot of epiphany.

13. After the performance, go home to prepare for that evening's big party. Take a nap. Pick up pizza and get together with a couple of fantastic girlfriends for some pre-party 'za and wine. Listen to their advice about the red lipstick (that is: do it). Be eternally grateful for your friend's wonderful, sparkly vintage dress that she lends you. Grab a taxi to head over to the party. Discover the easy route--via Knippelsbro--is blocked due to (I kid you not) a "Two-Minute Rave." Reroute, and prepare for a very fun evening.

14. Enjoy one of the happiest parties in recent memory to end your first season with this company. Enjoy the drinks, the snacks, the wonderful music, the fun funny people you work with. Enjoy the fact that your skit, recorded two days earlier after the aforementioned Bunny Encounter, is a hit. Enjoy dancing like an idiot, with almost everybody; including an anonymous trombonist who, moments after joking about your goofy social dancing skills, wipes out on the messy floor, thus reaffirming your belief in karma. Enjoy the fact that all of this is taking place in the old theatre, which has become a virtual second home over the last ten months. Enjoy being up very late and not having to worry about getting up in the morning, and all with beautiful warm weather going on recently. (And don't think about the fact that on Sunday afternoon, in a cruel initiation tradition for first-year company members, you will have to come in and clean up the leftovers from this madcap celebration. It won't be nearly as bad as you fear. Just continue to do your part in contributing to the mess.)

15. Since the beginning of the season, you have heard people speak of a place, and all season long you have wanted to go. This place is the roof of Det Kongelige Teater. When your friends suggest a trip upstairs to watch the sunrise, then, be excited. And when you get up there, just as the sun is rising over Copenhagen, and take in the view of this city--so quiet at such an early hour--it's ok if you lack words, for once. Just appreciate the fact that at that exact moment, with these people in this unbelievable spot, you're ending your season in the most perfect way imaginable. Take pictures. But mostly try to absorb it into your memory forever.

16. After the rooftop awesomeness, visit another place in the theatre you haven't been (but have wanted to go to): Studio H, that mysterious place even higher up in the building than St. Ny. Barefoot and oddly not tired, you'll sit next to the piano and listen as Stauning tickles the ivories, and people are talking quietly, and the window is open to let in warm summer air, and the sun is fully awake. At one point, you will lean your head against the wall and sort of close your eyes, and in a corny/sappy/totally true moment realize that this exact situation is giving you true happiness.

17. Go down to your dressing room and change out of your sparkly dress into sweats and Converse. The night is over, and has been for quite some time now, and it's time to go home. As you walk across Knippelsbro, completely awake and incredibly happy, realize that mornings aren't always so bad; and that whoever has to clean up the bridge after the previous night's end-of-Distortion festivities has a far harder job than you do, cleaning up after the ballet's party. Entering Christianshavn, you might hear opera music in the air. Lagkagehuset is just opening its doors to receive deliveries, and as you walk by the pastry mecca, you'll realize the opera tunes are coming from inside the bakery. Poking your head in to investigate, you'll see a group of professional opera singers belting beautiful music to the store employees, much to everyone's delight. You'll notice the singers appear to be sopping wet, from head to toe; when one of them recognizes you as a fellow employee of the theatre, she will gleefully explain that after the opera party, she and her friends here jumped in the Kanal and are now trying to score some baked goods before going home. You can only grin at her story, and continuing to your apartment, you'll have three final realizations: This city rocks. Your new haircut rocks. And you finally feel at home.

musik, dans, og en storslået solopgang: den perfekte måde at begynde at sommerferien

Last night marked the end of the Royal Danish Ballet's 2009/2010 season. Due to a "pre-stress fracture" sort of foot injury that happened on Wednesday night during Serenade, my season had unfortunately ended early. (Mid-jump in our last entrance of the ballet, my foot basically decided to go on holiday early. Onstage. Not fun. I don't get injured often--knock on wood--so when I do, I'll just say this: I don't deal with it well and get paranoid. And also: It sucks, I can't put it any more honestly. But it is part of being a dancer sometimes, and I was told dancing on it just to be able to finish the season on Saturday would have made it worse. The math was simple; not what I wanted to hear, but in the end, the smart decision in the long run.) And today, as is tradition at RDB and as a first-year company member, I spent over two hours with other newbies cleaning up the aftermath of last night's festivities. Fun fact: Ballerina people are MESSY PARTY PEOPLE. But back to happier topics.

After the boys' Danseur Noble performance closed out the season, the Royal Danish Ballet celebrated in style back at the old theatre in Kongens Nytorv. From 10:30 until...well, honestly, whenever, the dancers (and friends of dancers) gathered in B Salen, the big studio on the first floor, for drinks and music and general end-of-season, all-out celebratory activities. Speeches were made--we bid fond farewells to Nehemiah Kish (leaving for Royal Ballet), Aurore Casanova (leaving for Switzerland), and Claire Ratcliffe (retiring after 21 years in the company!). For the first three hours, my good friend Cecilie Lassen played DJ, and after that a hired outside guy took over. The music was fantastic, and loud, and my ears are ringing today but I don't care. (Plus, peanuts were one of the snacks offered, so that made me pretty happy.) At around 1am, two of my best new friends Constantine Baecher and Martin Stauning, along with myself (and Charlie, who unfortunately couldn't make it to the party but was there in spirit), presented our skit for the party. We had recorded fake voicemails for RDB's "sick hotline"--people calling in tidal-waved on vacation in India; awaiting a shipment of their trademark blue mascara; etc--and it turned out to be a total hit. After our little moment in the spotlight, the party continued until sunrise. Which, to be fair, is quite early in Scandinavian summertime. We danced--me like an idiot, because that's how I roll--and talked and walked around the theatre and laughed and acted like goofballs.

At some point--a very late/early point--my friend James, along with Stauning and a bunch of others, brought me where I had wanted to go since the beginning of the season: the roof of Det Kongelige Teater. I'm not sure it's exactly legal, but we went, and I experienced something so wonderful. That is, a perfect Sunday sunrise over an eerily quiet early morning Copenhagen. We all just walked around, soaking up the views (and some much-missed Vitamin D, after the seemingly endless winter this year) and taking pictures and talking about everything and nothing. It was perfect, and I was so glad I hadn't gone up there before last night/this morning. I can't properly describe how amazing it was to end the season and begin "sommerferie" up there, looking out over Copenhagen, so hopefully the pictures below will give an inkling of an idea. After we were done, we climbed down and went into Studio H, a studio even higher up in the theatre than the previously mentioned St. Ny, aka "Siberia." We listened to Stauning play the piano (a former RDB dancer, he is now studying at the Conservatory and is a gifted composer, as well as one of the most wonderfully funny, unique people I've met). I just sat there, as he played and other people talked, and closed my eyes, and experienced this moment of complete, utter, true happiness.

After a while, we went back down to go our separate ways home. I changed out of my sparkly dress and into sweats and a tshirt. As I walked across Knippelsbro, surveying the fallen bikes and alcoholic debris littering the street from the previous night's end of Distortion wildness, I had a thought: Maybe all those old people and birds and other early-morning sorts of creatures are onto something. Because at 6am, in the quiet sunshine, Copenhagen is fantastically peaceful. I approached Lagkagehuset, that pastry mecca I love so much, as I neared my apartment. The bakery opened in an hour, but was receiving its deliveries and the doors were open. Walking past, I heard from inside the sounds of opera singers. I poked my head in to find a group of soaking wet, professional opera singers serenading the employees of Lagkagehuset. One of them saw me and asked if I was from the ballet, and when I said yes, she said they were (clearly) from the Opera and had just gone swimming in the Kanal, and were now buying some bread for the way home. I couldn't help but grin as she told me this; and making my way to my apartment, I was overwhelmed with a slightly sappy thought: This place, this city and this theatre and these people, all of it is home.


Copenhagen as the sun comes up...


Stauning and I (and my new haircut) enjoying the early morning.




Copenhagen waking up.


A perfect way to end the season, and the evening. Og nu: Sommerferie :)

Tillykke med fødselsdagen til min mor! :)

This week has been an eventful one, to say the least--ending my season a little early with a foot injury (not serious; and more on that in a future post), and subsequently chopping all of my hair off for summertime (again, more on that later)--but this post is not about me, or where I work, or Copenhagen. Tomorrow is my mom's birthday, and this is for her :)

My mother is fabulous. A Brooklyn prosecutor-turned-USTA certified tennis coach, she raised my four younger siblings and me, along with my dad, with biting wit, a strong sense of morals, and the willingness to let us pursue our individual dreams. Not one to sugarcoat anything, I learned the value of honesty from my mom. She taught us to stick by our beliefs, no matter what everyone else was doing ("If everyone was jumping off the Brooklyn Bridge, would you do it? No. That's a stupid reason."). I also learned the simple pleasure of finishing a crossword puzzle; and that the only way to get any good at doing them is to plug on, daily. (Also, NEVER do the crossword in pen, especially if you're a beginner.) Thanks to my mom, I know the cheesy joy of belting out Jimmy Buffett's "Cheeseburger in Paradise", that classic ode to the hamburger. She fostered my love of reading by making it part of our daily routines growing up, and she later fostered my love of especially bad reality television (hello, Bridezilla marathons on Oxygen). My mom introduced me to Audrey Hepburn when I was very young, and as a result is directly responsible for my continued lifelong admiration of the late, great film star. Growing up, we learned very early on that until we learned to drive ourselves, if Mom was behind the wheel, she controlled the radio. Thus I grew up to the dulcet tones of Bob Dylan, the Grateful Dead, and The Doors. (Far too young, my siblings and I all loved "Peace Frog," and would sing along as Jim Morrison crooned, "Bleeding ghosts crowd the young child's fragile eggshell mind." In return, we introduced her to Lady Gaga.) My mother was, thankfully, never a Stage Mother; I was never one of the girls who wanted her parents to come watch class--performances only--so this worked out quite nicely for everybody. (I believe my mom put it best when, talking about watching us do barre, she said: "Carling, I love you, but if I wanted to watch grass grow..." I completely understood.) From my mother, I have inherited my tendency to snort when I laugh, my perfectionism, and my innate stubborn streak. She taught me to love the phrase "to be sure" in writing; and introduced the wonderfully useful "Move to strike as non-responsive" into my life. My mother always let each of us do what we wanted in life, with one condition: "Do what you want, but do it to the best of your ability." She taught me that makeup really isn't necessary (though for me, sunscreen is a MUST), and thanks to her I rarely wear makeup offstage, and so have pretty good skin, especially considering how much crap I pile on so many nights of the year for performances. When it came to boys, my sister and I learned: never change for a guy; do not tolerate lying; stay true to yourself; and make sure you can laugh. She always said that if we couldn't laugh at ourselves, we were taking life too seriously. (She also said, "Don't dish it out if you can't take it," which tells you a little something about how we express love in my family...and that is, served with a healthy slice of sarcasm, topped with some teasing.) Thanks to my mother, I am now a fan of the following: professional sports; reality shows about tattoo artists; Robert Downey, Jr.; creme brulee; the Spanish language; online shopping; knitting; blueberries topped with sugar; flavored sparkling water; Adidas sportswear; dipping my fingers in melting candle wax and then pretending to be a witch; Seal and Heidi Klum as favorite celebrity couple; Beauty and the Beast; the list could go on.

In short: Happy, happy, happy birthday, Mom. I miss you and love you, and think of you every day. And at tomorrow's end-of-season party, I will have a glass of champagne in your honor. (If I'm lucky, and the party committee thinks like I do, possibly a slice of cake as well.)