summer lovin

I’m in the midst of a summer fling. Perhaps it is more accurately a spring fling. At any rate. It’s turning out to be quite an adventure.

He’s an actor. In town for the current show. We connected rather quickly. Talking and flirting when we’d see each other around the theater. Our first long conversation took place on a day when we’d simultaneously arrived at the green room kitchen with dirty dishes. I was in jeans that day, a decided break from my uniform of dresses and heels. He noticed and made a point of telling me that I looked good in jeans too.

He leaned into me one evening at a party and asked if I was the girl mama had warned him about. I responded that I was. And that I’m very OK with being that girl. That party led into a night in bed together. The next day we affirmed that we were both very interested in spending more time together. We also affirmed that the fact that he’ll be gone in a few weeks is not really an issue for either of us.

Since then we’ve spent almost every night together. He’s well aware of all my exploits and obligations and marvels at how I’m able to fit him in to the schedule. Admittedly I’m making more time for him than I would ordinarily. Because he’ll be gone in a few weeks.

He’s intelligent. He has his shit together. He’s incredibly attractive. And he and I are extremely sexually compatible. Eerily so since we both have a multitude of preferences that are generally outside of the norm. He’s quite wonderful to wake up to. We’re having fun together. I’ve been needing some fun.

right here in river city

One of my most favorite people is coming to visit. He got laid off because his company went bankrupt. That part sucks. The good part is that he was needing a change. So since he has some time, he’s hopping in his car and driving up from LA. He’ll be here sometime tomorrow. He’ll crash either with me or with another friend that lives in the area.

Either way, there is mischief in the air. I can’t wait to see him. And do illicit things with him. And show him off to the folks at work because he’s a little hottie. He and I can make a party out of any situation. We’ve done plenty of running around together in NY and down in LA but this will be our first go round of the bay area. It will definitely be blog worthy.

blowing off responsibility

I should be working right now. It’s 10:30 0n Monday night and I should be working. Because I have a thousand deadlines this week and precious little time to accomplish them because of meetings and re-carpeting of my office and a staff retreat. I should be working because I e-mailed 10 documents to myself so I could work.

I should be working now because I spent the entire weekend playing. Friday night I spent some time with a friend in the city. A friend who gave me 100 red and white tulips as a belated Valentine’s Day gift. Tulips are my favorite flower. It was a perfect choice. Saturday I ran some errands and went shopping for the last items for SB’s birthday box. I shopped for and bought some shoes. I went to the movies. And yesterday I went to Vegas. Completely spur of the moment. Just for the day. Because a friend (the same friend who gave me the tulips) called me Saturday afternoon and said that the two of us had way to much on our plates and we should do something crazy to blow off steam.

So we did. We walked the strip, found an arcade and played games (I had to buy a suitcase to bring back all the stuffed animals we won. There’s a little menagerie in my bedroom now), shopped, had lunch. Played a slot for SB. (I won him $100). It was too much fun. I’d never been to Vegas and now I’m itching to go back and stay overnight and see some shows. Vegas is exactly as tacky as it seems. I loved it.

Today was supposed to be about work. Because again, I’ve got a thousand deadlines. Instead, I slept in super late (one day in Vegas will make a girl tired). I went to Macy’s to have a look around but didn’t make any purchases. I went to the gym. I bought groceries. Gave myself a manicure, pedicure, and a facial. The late afternoon hours are hazy. There was some cleaning and straightening of the apartment but I still seem to be missing a few hours. Weird. They may have been sucked up by re-runs of Friends and Seinfeld. I spent about an hour working and responding to work related email. Now I’m blogging. So while I’m feeling relaxed and happy. I have a feeling that about noon tomorrow, I’ll be regretting all of my play time.

Sigh.

flirting as sport

I had to crash a wedding tonight. To check out a band and a dance group I’m thinking of hiring for a fundraiser. Crashing the wedding involved decking out in black tie and driving into the city. It gave me the opportunity to road test the dress and shoes I bought for my event next month. That’s a bonus.

I looked good. Hair curled and pulled back. Knee length, chocolate colored cocktail dress with a tasteful copper colored glitter thread sewn through. (Yes glitter and tasteful can go together. It’s all about subtle shimmer and not bling.) The dress skims all the curves and the girls look fabulous. Strappy 3 inch heels. Simple jewelry since the dress was a statement of its own. A pashmina thrown over everything to combat the evening chill.

So I rolled up to the venue and called the event planner but she did not answer her cell phone. So, per instruction, I checked in with the security guard out front. He made some calls, then gave me clearance to head on in. I picked up a glass of champagne at the bar and circled the room. Scoping things out, but trying not to cruise too hard. You know, since I wasn’t an actual guest at this little shindig.

The pickings were slim. People tend to come to weddings already coupled up. So I made my way back outside. Because the security guard was cute. He and I chatted. We introduced ourselves. He showed me the picture of the bride-to-be’s ex-boyfriend. Apparently the family was concerned he would show up. Bet there’s a great story there.

I spent the next hour or so watching the entertainment and chatting up hot security guard in between numbers. Till I’d decided I’d seen enough of the talent and was ready to go. I made sure to let hot security guard know I was going home. We chatted briefly about what I’d thought of the entertainment. I told him they were ok but that the group I really want to hire has a fire dance. I’m hoping for pyro, I’m just working out permit issues.

His eyes widened and he said, “Wow. Do you need security?”

With my best smile I fired back. “Oh, you never know when a girl will need a little security. So why don’t you give me your number and that way I know I’m covered.”

And the number was given. And I sashayed off to my truck. Feeling like the cat that ate the canary.

Will I call the boy? Probably not. I just like to flirt. For sport.

ghost story

I have a close relationship with a ghost. Or I used to anyway. Then I moved.

I’d always been one of those people who said, “It’s not that I don’t believe in ghosts, I just haven’t seen enough to convince me they DO exist.” Till I started working at a theater in Texas that was haunted.

I heard stories from volunteers and former employees. He was known by the name, Bart. A name someone had assigned to him years ago.  There was one seat in the house that was Bart’s. A seat that was always a little colder than the others. There were stories of people who saw him in the light booth. (Our theater was a converted movie house. The light booth was the old projection booth.) He was spotted in the prop loft above the scene shop. Our old Technical Director told a story where Bart stomped up the wheelchair ramp in the kitchen and pushed the swinging door open into the lobby. There were stories of props going missing. Supposedly he was seen often at the top of the stairs in the long hallway that ran alongside the house. I remained unconvinced. After all, for all the stories I heard, I never heard a real description of what he looked like. It was always shadows and things that could be explained away by the sugar and caffeine filled late nights of theater folk.

Till one September evening. When LH and I were the only ones in the building. The doors were locked. We were on the stage, each of us facing opposite directions as we finished applying a paint treatment to the stage floor. Our scene shop was located directly behind the stage. A large garage door led from the shop to the stage right wing. That night LH and I each heard commotion from the shop. We both looked up at the same time. LH had to turn around as his back was facing stage right. I saw a man clearly walk through the garage door, heading directly downstage before disappearing behind a flat. LH turned back around, not having seen anything.

I’d evidently turned as white as a sheet. My brain was processing 100 miles a minute. I knew what I’d seen, but couldn’t believe it. I kept waiting for someone to come out from the other side of that flat. But it never happened. LH asked what was wrong. I told him I’d seen someone. I was insistent. I knew I’d seen a person, but the person had disappeared. He went over and checked everything out. No one was there.

I laughed nervously and said, “It must have been Bart.” LH, ever the skeptic, started asking questions. What did he look like? What was he wearing? How was his hair? I had an immediate answer for every question. That, along with the look on my face, was enough for LH.

We returned to our work on the floor treatment. Maybe an hour later I heard very distinct footsteps coming up the staircase that led from stage left to the house. There was no one on those steps. I was sitting less than 10 feet from the stair case. Watching and listening. Sufficiently creeped out, I asked LH if we could turn on the radio. He obliged and the first song that played was “Superstition.”

A few days later, I broke silence and relayed the story to one of our long time volunteers. She told me that my description of Bart was dead on with all of the descriptions she’d heard. Tall and lanky. Light grey pants and shirt. Sleeves rolled up slightly. Shaggy hair. I saw sandals. That was the only variant. But only because no one else had ever seen his feet.

After that I was much more aware around the theater. And evidently Bart decided he liked me because I began to see him all over the place. Standing at the top of the steps in the hallway. I’d get glimpses of him in the lobby. Even in broad daylight. Once, SB and I were stretched out on the lobby floor, chatting away. There was all kinds of noise coming from the corner. The corner with the door to stairs leading up to the light booth. SB finally looked over to that corner and said, “Bart, if you’d like to join in just come over and sit down.” The noise stopped.

So then I started talking to Bart when I sensed he was around. When he was making noise and giving me the creeps. Walking circles around me while I was on stage alone. Traipsing around the prop loft.

SB saw him once. During a show he was in. He saw Bart backstage. He said something to me about it. I was sitting in an alcove, waiting to assist with quick changes. SB and his co-star for that production were facing me. Their backs to the scene shop and a large book case with props lined up carefully. I was facing into the shop. They started making Bart jokes. Evidently he did not appreciate the jokes. Or he wanted to make one of his own because suddenly all of the props from one of the shelves went flying off. As though someone had swept them off with their arm. Only there was no one there. And books and glasses won’t just blow over from a breeze. Even so, there was no breeze.

My last encounter with Bart happened just last week. While I was in TX. I stopped by the theater to see some of the capital improvements that have been made. I was standing on the stage looking at the new lighting system when I glanced up to the booth. I saw a shadowy figure moving around inside the light booth. I squinted my eyes but couldn’t make out who it was. I shook my head and looked away. A few minutes later I looked back and saw that the figure was still there. Very clearly the figure of a man.

I didn’t think much of it. It was the middle of the day. The lights were being worked on. It could have been anybody. My old boss and I stepped off the stage and into the house. Making our way to the lobby. We were in the lobby when one of the employees came and asked for the key to the light booth. Because they needed to go turn on the light board to check an instrument. And the booth was locked. And in that instant I realized that Bart had popped up to say hi. One last time.

For the record we did lots of research and could never find anything documented about someone dying inside the building. It was a movie theater until the mid 70s. The theater bought it and started renovations in 80. So it was empty for a couple of years in between. The commonly accepted story was that Bart had been a projectionist. He was only ever seen in the parts of the building that were part of the original theater. Never in the bits that had once been adjacent office space, purchased 12 years after the theater itself. Back in the day the reels were stored in what was our backstage. In the scene shop and prop loft.

Is it Bart real? I believe he is. He was real to me anyway. I know it sounds crazy. But I know what I saw. And this is the only explanation that makes sense. I’m officially a girl who believes in ghosts.