Happy Haunting!

Well, dear readers, we hope you've enjoyed reading our series of spooky posts as much as we've enjoyed composing them. Hope you have the most deliciously frightening and sugary sweet Halloween ever! Don't be too naughty...


~ P & L

Hopes for Halloween Costumes

Ever since visiting Venice a couple of years ago, I've wanted to dress up in Carnival costumes for Halloween. (I know this is not the most flattering picture of me. We had already taken a picture with these folks, but they held me ransom until I gave them a few more euros, and I was a little startled by their grip. Stingy performance-types!).

My Carnival dress-up hasn't happened yet, and, alas, this is not my year either. P has to work on All Hallow's Eve until 8 PM, and if you want to be in the Greenwich Village Parade (which I most certainly would, if I pulled together a fabulous Carnival guise), you have to be there around 7 PM. C'est la vie. There's always next year, right?

Why Carnival, you may ask? Well, I will be the first to acknowledge that I completely and totally romanticize almost everything, but especially places I've visited. Venice was such a spectacular, velvety mix of warm, sparkly windows, their light dancing on the gently lapping water and plush, sooty shadows, corridors that disappear into murky darkness. While we were there, I loved imagining a Carnival of 18th-century splendor spilling through the streets: the excitement of sauntering through the threadlike alleys unchaperoned and unseen; for one night, free from all social mores.




Okay, so I warned you: definitely romanticized. But still, Carnival really was a time when people got to be someone they weren't, if only for a moment -- a desire that clearly continues to drive the somewhat unseemly desire of adults to dress completely inappropriately one night a year.



This is another thing I love about Carnival costumes. The costumes are seductive and compelling for what they don't reveal, rather than for all they do. When I troll the streets of NYC on Halloween, I am always embarrassed for the women who dress up as a whored-out version of a sexist stereotype (sexy nurse! sexy french maid! sexy joan jetson! sexy schoolgirl! I think you know what I'm talkin' about, right?) trying to be noticed. I much prefer the wondering what is under the costume to shielding my eyes against all that should have been.

So, I'll continue to plan and imagine my brilliant Carnevale di Venezia costume, hoping that next year, I'll disappear into billows of fabric, rustle down shadowy side streets, and wait for P to discover who is really under the mask.

~L

A Childhood Scare.

So, my brothers and I would fall asleep to this tape my Gramma gave us. We later (much later) found it and would act out the poems for each others enjoyment.

Well some of the poems would cause you to pull the covers up to your chin and wait this one out. And for some reason this one would get me real nervous at night alone in my bed. I think because there was a possibility that I could go away, chasing a dream and then never come back. And no one would ever know what happened to me.

And that terrified me.

~p

Fearsome Ballads for an Eerie Eve

Several years ago, a couple of my good friends started circulating an October mix tape (though it was a CD) to get everyone in the Autumnal mood. I've since co-opted much of the list and augmented it, and it has become a favorite of ours. Each October, P and I play the list while we decorate, carve pumpkins, and generally participate in Halloween revelry. Hope you enjoy.

1. This is Halloween – Danny Elfman
How else would you begin an October / Halloween list?

2. Hell – Squirrel Nut Zippers
"This is a place where eternally
Fire is applied to the body
Teeth are extruded and bones are ground
Then baked into cakes which are passed around." 'nuff said.

3. Dracula – Gorillaz
There's got to be a good Dracula song on this list, right? And this one's sung by a cartoon.

4. Werewolf In London – Warren Zevon
I adore this song. It's not at all surprising that werewolves hang out at Trader Vic's.

5. Thriller – Michael Jackson
Really, must I comment?

6. (Ghost) Riders In The Sky – Johnny Cash
Classic. Damned to chase red-eyed cows through the sky, these cowboys now warn others to mind their ways.

7. Grim Grinning Ghosts – Barenaked Ladies
A Disney classic, revamped by those guys who sang the Chinese-Chicken song a few years ago.

8. Ghost of Stephen Foster – Squirrel Nut Zippers
Squirrel Nut Zippers have some very macabre thoughts. I love it.

9. Virgin State of Mind – K's Choice
Spooky... I mean, why does she have a chair in her head?

10. Free Until They Cut Me Down – Iron and Wine
Lynching is definitely scary.

11. One More Murder – Better Than Ezra
A town where no one notices that another murder has taken place, because they're used to it.

12. Slouching Towards Bethlehem – Joni Mitchell
The birth of the antichrist, apocalypse...

13. A Widow's Toast – Neko Case
Case's voice is always unnerving; here it's downright frightening.

14. Transylvanian Concubine – Rasputina
Vampiric ladies of the night wander through gothic chords: "you know what flows there like wine."

15. Bury My Lovely – October Project
Definitely new-agey, but there's no better mood music for a sepia-toned fall.

16. Bad Moon Rising – Thea Gilmore
A low-key take on the apocalyptic tune from Credence Clearwater Revival.

17. Superstar – Sonic Youth
Echoing and ghostly, this song makes Karen Carpenter even spookier.

18. O Death – Ralph Stanley
The bluegrass great begs Death to pass him by.

19. Temptation Waits – Garbage
Another vampire song. Come to think of it, I think Shirley Manson may actually be a vampire.

20. Wuthering Heights – Kate Bush
Blog readers know of my deep, abiding love for Kate. This is probably my favorite song of hers, where she gives the ghost Cathy a voice, begging Heathcliff to let her in his window.

21. Dirty Knife – Neko Case
Another Neko song to close out the list; haunting, lilting, lovely.

A Walk and A Fall.

This past weekend we had the great privilege of visiting our good friends in the small enclave of SLEEPY HOLLOW!!!

You die-hards may remember a similar trip with other dear friends last year. Well that was more of a Spooky Graveyard Trip, while this one was more like this:



There was afternoon shopping at a Church Harvest Fair, Lindsay picked up some Chekhov, and I found a book of Hitchcock's Scary Stories for Young Adults...So, you know, same-same.

Then we Lunched at a tea room that was described to us as 'More Roosters and Sunflowers than Saucers and Finger Sandwiches.' But it was delicious and delightful, both in meal and in company.

Then we walked.




At first I thought the walk was headed somewhere, and there were sights seen and destinations arrived at. But in the end, we just walked, and the walk became the event.



There certainly is such a thing as a "quaint village feel" that needs to be felt now and then. And Sleepy Hollow has such a strong feeling that it quite literally pulled our friends right from their home up the street to their new home up the state.

And we were lucky for it.

A moment on the train over looking the Hudson River.

A walk to and around Swan Lake.

The soft crispness in the air that fills the lives of those who live in forests.

A perfect day.

October Sweet: Pumpkin Chocolate Cookies & White Chocolate Hot Cocoa

Ideal for curling up with a ragged copy of Poe and listening to the murmurous wind tickle through the skeletal branches, this combo is frighteningly sweet and oh-so-scrumptious: a slightly spicy cake-like cookie studded with semi-sweetened chocolate, paired with a ghostly potion for your autumn enjoyment.


Pumpkin Chocolate Chip Cookies

1 c. pumpkin
3/4 c. sugar
1/2 c. oil
1 egg
2 c. flour
2 tsp. baking powder
1 tsp. cinnamon
1/2 tsp. salt
1 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. milk
1 c. chocolate chips
1 tsp. vanilla

Dissolve baking soda in milk; set aside. In large bowl add pumpkin, sugar, oil, and egg; stir. Add flour, baking powder, cinnamon, salt and baking soda mixture. Mix well. Stir in chocolate chips and vanilla. Spoon onto cookie sheet. Bake at 375 degrees 10 to 12 minutes or until done.



White Chocolate Hot Cocoa

4 ounces white chocolate, chopped
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
14 ounces milk
2 ounces cream
3 pieces star anise

Place the chopped chocolate and vanilla in a mixing bowl. In a saucepan heat together milk, cream and star anise until boiling. Pour over chocolate and whisk well to melt. Strain into mugs to remove star anise.

Enjoy!

"Gloaming" - a Superbly Spooky Tale by P

There are those whose breath aches for the crack of treaded leaves, the race of whipped wind 'round a broken tomb stone, the shallow gasp of black night as it settles on your chest.

She was one of them.

She sat waiting at her window. Watching for the first dead leaf to fall at the foot of the aching maple tree that covered the front face of her house. She could match the tangles of bark and branches of the tree with the iced lines of the ancient glass in the windows of her dying home. She loved to watch. Families would walk by unaware of her stare through yellowed lace curtains. They would give sweatered smiles and hold mitted hands and call for their young to keep clear of the street. She would smile too; though her skin bagged and pulled hard toward the floor making it impossible for her lips to turn up at the ends, she would smile. She would smile while she waited.

Once. Once, her face had been smooth and beautiful, the color of promise. Once, her eyes had been compared to unseen tropical seas, now they lie in wait, hollow and grey, the pupil set far in from the color, creating a space.

Once.

Once. She hated the word. The sharp hiss, following the slack jawed ‘Un’, clawed the roof of her mouth as it slid out. She no longer thought, ‘Once.’ She only ever thought, ‘Next’.

Perhaps, if those boys had not come that first year. Perhaps if they would have just passed on to make their mischief at other, less foreboding, manors. But they hadn’t. They came here, and she knew why. She was old. The house terrifying. The season called for it and she had her role to play. So, she invited them in and locked the door. She spent time sifting through the boys, finding the worst among them, the biggest liar, the bravest fool. She separated him from the pack. She sent the other boys off without him knowing. And he was left. And she was right.
He fought hard at first and she was sure he would overtake her; after all, he was a growing boy and she a crooked old woman, but he did not believe it would happen, he couldn’t believe. She had that on her side, she believed. She could see the whole thing as it was happening, as if from above. The swirling, and pulling, and crying out. The candlestick.

It had been her mother’s. Deep black marble with swipes of grey. It was brought back from Venice when she was a girl. It stood, always, center of the mantle to receive its accolades. It was cold to the touch, but not that first night. That night it burned her hands as she held it. She had worried that the heavy of it would put her off her balance, but she was buoyed by the weightlessness of it as it lifted over her head.

She knew where to put the body. She had always known. The cellar had been bolted off long ago, after they had running water brought to the house. The only access now was an old dumb-waiter that would spill the mess into the dark beneath. The smell. What of the smell? The smell would be covered by the cats. She had known that when the first stray coiled its tail around her drooping stocking. The smell, like the blood rush would fade.

Some get away.

She knew that, too. There must be a broken board down there, and she may not have hit them hard enough, or in the right spot. She could hear them shuffling around down there, banging into things in the dark or breaking glass, then quiet. That’s why she chooses the liars. What could they say? In the end, it’s just a boy who missed his curfew and is now babbling some fantastic story about the old lady at the end of the street. Even if they were filthy and bloody, no one had ever questioned her. No one had ever walked past the maple tree and knocked at the door and asked where the town sons had gone. And as long as no one asked, she would continue… to wait.

For they would be back, a new batch, braver than the last, hopped up on wild tales told year after year about the house on the hill and the children who never come back.

And so she waited for the first dead leaf to fall.


The end.

The Drawing...of DEATH!

One Last Autumnal Chance...

Come on, one more chance! Put on your commenting hat and tell us why you like fall -- Patrick has to close tonight, so we won't draw until tomorrow (Friday, Oct 17). Win a box of autumn splendor, straight from us! You know you want it...

'Beware the Autumn People'

Lindsay and I are in constant conversation about which season we love the most. Granted, there are a moments where we talk about Bills or Babies, but mostly we're draped about the house, discussing whether the weather of endless evenings in summer is better than bustling brisk of Christmas, or if it can compare with the first sweet breath of fresh dirt in Spring, which rivals the crisp burnt reminder of Autumns past.

Pretty much, Lindsay loves Summer first for its chlorine-filled memories and sand-filled futures, then Fall for its new school year ('cause she's smart) and the fashion that comes with ('cause she's pretty).

I have to say that, year after year, I am thoroughly convinced by whichever pageant is presenting itself at the moment. So this year...Today...I am fully for Fall.

{Our Dog on Our Porch}

{The Plants* on the Porch}

{Syd in a Patch of Pumpkins}



{Patch in a Patch of Pumpkins...and Linds}

Our dear friends Suzie and Syd called us up and wanted to head upstate and see the country, so we did and it was a Autumn Wonderland. We picked up some fall sundries and enjoyed good company. It was golden and hazy, but it was covering a dark truth. After all, the turning of fall is only ever about one thing:

"Sleep is a patch of death, but three in the morn, full wide-eyed staring, is living death! You dream with your eyes open. God, if you had the strength to rouse up, you'd slaughter your half-dreams with buckshot! But no, you lie pinned to a deep well-bottom that's burned dry. The moon rolls by to look at you down there, with its idiot face. It's a long way back to sunset, a far way to dawn, so you summon all the fool things of your life, the stupid lovely things done with people known so very well who are now so very dead -- And wasn't it true, had he read somewhere, more people in hospitals die at 3 A.M. than at any other time ... ?"

Deep in the back of your throat it waits for its annual subsiding. The one night when creaking gates bang open and shatter on dead rock walls giving way to shadowy characters with wicked motives.

"Mr. Dark nodded, pleased. "What's your name, boy?"

Don't tell him! thought Will, and stopped.
Why not? he wondered, why?

Jim's lips hardly twitched. "Simon," he said.

He smiled to show it was a lie.

Mr. Dark smiled to show he knew it."

There are those whose breath aches for the crack of treaded leaves, the race of whipped wind 'round a broken tomb stone, the shallow gasp of black night as it settles on your chest.

"…Beware the autumn people...For some, autumn comes early, stays late, through life, where October follows September and November touches October and then instead of December and Christ’s birth there is no Bethlehem Star, no rejoicing, but September comes again and old October and so on down the years, with no winter, spring or revivifying summer.
For these beings, fall is the only normal season, the only weather, there be no choice beyond.
Where do they come from? The dust. Where do they go? The grave. Does blood stir their veins? No, the night wind. What ticks in their head? The worm. What speaks through their mouth? The toad. What sees from their eye? The snake. What hears with their ear? The abyss between the stars.
They sift the human storm for souls, eat flesh of reason, fill tombs with sinners. They frenzy forth. In gusts they beetle-scurry, creep, thread, filter, motion, make all moons sullen, and surely cloud all clear-run waters. The spider-web hears them, trembles—breaks.
Such are the autumn people. Beware of them."

We are they. The Autumn People. So then, are you, our closest and finest friends. And to solidify our kinship...

a gift:

As you very probably know, the quotes above are from this, the finest fall book ever penned. I love to read this book every fall. It has the perfect mix of Summer Ending, Growing Up, a Haunting Pandemonium Shadow Show, and Trains...

"Those trains and their grieving sounds were lost forever between stations, not remembering where they had been, not guessing where they might go, exhaling their last pale breaths over the horizon, gone. So it was with all trains, ever."

We invite you to join our Harvest tradition and curl up in this book. Don't have a copy? We'll give you this one. You know the drill: post a comment about your very favorite part of this season and, on Thursday the 16th, we'll draw a winner and send you a box of fall, New England Style.


Well, go on...

~P

{I took every picture used in this post, even the book one... I know, right?!}

{Oh wait...not the one I'm in, Suzie took that.}

{Better Stacy?}

*That green thing is called a Goose Gourd; at least, that's what the Lady on the Farm said.

Hooray! Internet re-connect

Oh, man, folks, who knew how addicted we are to the internet? We have now survived 1 1/2 weeks without a functioning connection and it was terribly unpleasant. But, we're back, so keep checking in here, because we're preparing another desperate stunt to reestablish readership. You never know what we'll offer this time...

Excuses, excuses...

Hi all,

Our internet has crashed. The cable guy is coming to fix it next week, so we will then be back to Bloggery goodness. Please forgive us in the meantime...

Sunday Funny: Fey as Palin

This is real funny. Tina Fey really does look and sound eerily like Palin!

~L

The Reviews are In!!!

So, I'm out in LA doing my little play which, (after weeks of Previews) opened this past weekend. And the first out of the gate to comment on the quality and relevance of the piece was the LA Weekly. This is what they had to say...

(You have to scroll down a bit but we are there.)

LA WEEKLY

I know, I know.

If you are in the LA area and would like tickets go here.



I would love everyone from Nephews to Grandmas to come, but as Katie helped write it...it gets a bit rough, so leave the kids at home and no one tell my Grandma, as I find myself in the shortest shorts that are legal in West Hollywood...yeah... SHORT!

Summer Swan Song

"It was a quiet morning, the town covered over with darkness and at ease in bed. Summer gathered in the weather, the wind had the proper touch, the breathing of the world was long and warm and slow. You had only to rise, lean from your window, and know that this indeed was the first real time of freedom and living, this was the first morning of summer." - Ray Bradbury, Dandelion Wine

I used to read Dandelion Wine every summer, in June, because it is so evocative of the season, pulsating with the blossoming warmth of possibility offered by yet another magically carefree intercession in my regular life. I don't really have time to read Dandelion Wine anymore, but I still think of it at every summer's beginning and close.

I adore autumn, I do. But even now, at 28, there is something positively devastating to me about the end of summer.

When I was younger, my favorite holiday was July 4th. I know, I know...weird. There are no presents or really even that fun of decorations for Independence Day, but I just loved it. It was the perfect calendrical placement of a holiday: long enough into summer that I had settled into a routine of sunscreen, chlorine, and popcicles, but far enough from back to school that I didn't have to worry yet about the hot, drowsy days coming to an end. The day itself was usually blazing yet lazy, and then the night...the noise was skittishly exciting, and the transgression of staying up way too late, waiting for it to be dark enough to do fireworks made me feel so grown up. Even now, I have dense and powerful memories of happiness associated with the abrasive, acrid smell of fireworks, and I still like to watch them, especially as they explode over Manhattan, setting that infamous skyline ablaze in washes of pyrotechnic color.



Oh...those summer nights.

I'm nervous to be old enough to start feeling nostalgic about my younger days, but summer nights in Utah when I was growing up were simply the most spectacular gift offered by nature. The dry desert days would just bake the earth and then, at night, all that heat was released, creating an intoxicating mix of warmth and darkness, all set to a backdrop of crickets chorusing away. Summer dances were full of possibility, and one of my first experiences with love was full of the blissful carefree blooms of summer flirtation. He would drive me home in his open-top Jeep, and I would lean back, drinking in the overwhelming profusion of stars cluttering the sky. I never needed a sweater.


I think my profession continues to promote this sense of summer as a period of my life outside the numbing structures of time. Since I teach, I get my summers off (in theory) and am rarely beholden to solid deadlines, and though I always have great plans for all the work I'm going to do, I usually end up enjoying the slow peaceful days, pushing responsibility further and further into the fall. My summers in New York have been as magical as ever: long, dwindling nights on the patio amongst the fireflies, equally long, salty days at the Jersey Shore, each usually capped off with a lush serving of fresh summer berries and cream.


The song-birds leave us at the summer's close,
Only the empty nests are left behind,
And pipings of the quail among the sheaves.
- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, "The Harvest Moon"


So, summer ends. Or, more accurately, ended last Monday. But this, too, is what makes summer so remarkable: it is fleeting, a rare gift, and something to dream of and remember in that dark, dreadful dungeon known as February. In Dandelion Wine, they preserve the eponymous liquid in bottles in the basement, and in the winter, when they simply cannot bear the cold greyness anymore, they get it out and have a thimble full: sunshine in a bottle. I just have my memories of summer to last me through the rest of the year, but this...this is enough.~L

Nie Nie Day

I'm sure many of you have heard about Stephanie and Christian Nielson, who were in a pretty horrific small plane crash last week.  To help contribute to their recovery, DesignMom and others are having a great big day o' auctions, with all the proceeds going to Stephanie & Christian's recovery fund.  Several of the items up for auction are pretty spectacular, and all are stylish and interesting.  Go take a look!  And help the Nielsons on their way to Recovery.

There are over 165 auctions, all of  which are listed here.

Matt Clayton Photography

I'm home! After nearly a month away, it was nice to walk in to our little Hoboken apartment (although it smelled faintly of dust and old lady). I'll write a better update of our lives and travels in a few days, after I've unpacked, but in the meantime I simply must share this:

Photos by Matt Clayton

While in Utah, we arranged to have our infinitely talented friend Matt Clayton take some photos of our little family in preparation for the adoption blog & profile. From what we've seen so far, it was a wise decision: the pics are super fun, as was the shoot. Thanks, Matt!

~L

RRRED The Commercial

R.R.R.EALLY?!!!

So we have some news! Lots of you may know that I wrote a play a little while back with my friends, Adam and Katie. We did it for 6 weeks in NYC and 2 weeks in LA and it was wildly fun and amazing to see something you wrote be up and running. (incidentally, I am also in the play, I was telling them at work that I wrote a play and then later I told them I was in it and they were all surprised and I thought, "Why would I write a play and not make myself the lead?" Normals?! What can you do with 'em?)

Well, Adam had always felt that it needed a longer run in LA, as it was huge there. And so he started to put the thing together for a 6 week run. Well, I had grown up by then (January.) and told him that I had to stay put because I have an amazing job and I was moving up and we are planning to start a family next year (more about that in a later post.) and I couldn't drop everything and chase dreams.

Adam and Katie did their best to persuade, but in the end Katie left for LA and I stayed here. I thought it was fine but my way of dealing with this play and me not getting to do it was to COMPLETELY CUT THEM OFF. They would call about writing things and I would delete the message, we played long games of phone tag and finally they stopped calling, after all they had a play to do.

So there I was working and being grown up, which Lindsay allows me to not ever have to be really grown up (Peter Pan and Wendy anyone?) but there was this part that was heart broken. I was very proud of this play. We had written and preformed it and people (those few who saw it in NYC and the sold out crowds in LA) really liked it. I kept drifting off and thinking about the 'what if' and the fact that starting a family next year means that there is a little time now and much less time later. But I still loved my job and was happy.

Then one night, after the LA calls stopped coming, I had a thought, 'Perhaps responsible isn't always right.' Maybe I just thought, 'you don't run off and do fun things cause...you're not suppose to.' Then it occurred to me, that had never been our motto. We are all about running off and doing fun things and it's gotten us this far, granted most of our 'running off' is in support of Lindsay and her school so it's mingled in responsibility but I will tell you a secret: We were terrified to move to New York, not just a little but real real scared and we were right to be! There were homeless nights on strangers couches that we thought we would never make it but now those strangers are dear friends and we love where we live and often talk about those first months (yes months) when we thought we had made the worst move ever. But, now! Well, you know better than anyone how much we gush about New York, I think mostly because we made it.

Hold on....where was I? Oh Right...So I had my thought and I went to Lindsay with it. Lindsay had always said she would support what ever I wanted to do and she meant it, but there was part of her that was glad that I had not quit my job and flew off to Cali. AS IT SHOULD HAVE. But that night when I came to her the talk was different that it had been before and we talked the whole thing out, 'What would happen if you did this or that where would that put this thing or that part.' It all sounded feasible and Lindsay was the one who said, 'We are the kind of people who go for it. We've never played it safe why were we so instantly safe this time.' There was a lot more said that night, amazing things wifes say to husbands when they are terrified at the support lent to their husbands but more terrified not to give it. And I will always remember the feeling we had that night of a true partnership, in the practical life and in the unpractical one. I love you, sweetie.

So we started in small steps and called Adam to see if they would still have me, cause it was a real possibility that I would call and there would be nothing but ashes at the bottom of a deep deep gorge. But the thing about Adam and Katie is their bridges have been fully burned, they are black and soot filled but they are still strong and for some reason they still support my weight as I continually cross back and forth. I guess old bridges are the strongest. So they took me back, and it turns out that a theater company had just signed the play and we're very interested in 'co-producing' and 'commercially investing' and all these other fancy phrases that meant they wanted to see our play succeed and go on and they were behind us!

Then I went to work, and this is the part I left out of the talk Lindsay and I had that night, I talked to my Regional Manager and told her much of what is written here and that I would like to transfer to the LA store for the 4 week run of the show...Her reaction? She was elated for me and e-mailed LA and with in 24 hours I had a position at a store 5,000 miles away with a team that I had never met doing something that will allow me to keep my benefits, further my own development, and let me be in this play I wrote then come back and slip back in to the same position that I love here in New York! I can't begin to tell you how blessed we've felt to work with a company who values the lives of it's associates to this degree. I was blown away!

SOOO, (Man, I thought this would be quick) I am heading to LA for the month of September and I want you to join me! The Play is called R.R.R.E.D and it's based on a statistic that states: Due to the globalization and continued intermixing of the worlds population the recessive Gene that causes Red Hair will be bread out and become extinct by the year 2100! Katie and I play hosts to a secret meeting held for all redheads (who are you, the audience, but we ask that you keep your non-red wigs on as not to draw too much attention) in a secret plight to perpetuate the Redheaded Species. It's brilliant!

Here's the commercial for the First Run:




So it runs August 28th~ September 28th Every Thursday, Friday, and Saturday night at 8:00. You can get more information at rrredthemusical.com and adampictures.com and katiethompson.com

You can also watch clips on youtube just type in RRRED and watch what pops up, although, as the gist of the show is focused on Procreation it does get a bit graphic, so you've been warned.

One more thing: There are small rotating parts of "Redheaded Testimonials" that can be one show or a week of shows that should be played by the myriad of talented friends we have, so if you want to give a short monologue and sing one of Katie's incredible songs let us know...yes really I am talking to you, Joanie, Stacy, Sharon, Melinda, Jenny, Rachel, Michelle, Lisa, Hailey, Brett, Amelia, Matt, Jake, Curt, Chris and all others who sneak on here to see what I'm schlepping next, come be in the next big thing! Just let us know and Katie will whip out the most amazing song you've ever sung, put it in your key and watch you go...After all, you've never been the kind of person who plays it safe.

Just give in and comment.

Don't you guys think that Sean Hayes has some "intern" scouring the internet looking for random Sean Hayes stuff. If I was Sean Hayes I would. So... that probably means said sidekick has come across the following post and asked Mr. Hayes if it really went down like that. SO... If you are either Sean Hayes or his Lackey, Please indulge us all with a comment confirming the facts of the nights festivities and we shall call it good.

~P