Guest blog today, from talented actress Jean Chemnick, who co-starred with me in Art Theatre of Puget Sound's production of The Three Sisters last year. Jean is on tour in the Northeast, doing a one-woman Holocaust show.

At David's suggestion, here is an installment of my rock n' roll life.

I arrive in Rochester. Unfortunately, due to Beth something, the local synagogue's, cancellation of my show, I have nothing to do in Rochester, so I stay in my room at the "comfort inn" going over my lines and being depressive. The first night I am in so late that the dangerous looking restaurant next door is closed, so I hitch a ride with an Ohio couple to the local strip mall, where I nibble on some ice berg lettuce and hear all about their grandchild's cerebral fluid issues, which are extensive. I admire pictures of said child. I wait for half an hour as the grandparents select candy at K-mart. I go back to the hotel, find my earplugs, and go to "sleep".

I go back to the airport and fly to Albany, then drive to Saratoga. Saratoga Springs is adorable, and the idea of kidnapping the rental car and going back to seattle stops feeling like the only sane option. I am happy. I do a couple days of shows for privileged white children and take a bath in Saratoga Spring water.

I drive to Albany. I get on the expressway. I am too timid a driver (nasty rush hour) and don't get over to the correct, new york city south bound lane. I go west instead, thinking, hell, I'll get off at the next exit. It can't be that far.

Ha, ha. But it can. I don't quite make it to Buffalo (way the fuck west) but almost. I scream obscenities. I maneuver my way east again. I get lost maneuvering my way east again. I get on the expressway going south (hallelujah), but go too far south (fuck), because my directions are wrong and the correct turn off route isn't reported (kill the boss). I get off the damned freeway and ask at a hotel, which turns out to be a retirement home, where the correct turn off was supposed to be. I arrive at hotel very late, but not quite late enough. The Jimmy Banana Comedy Club is still blaring in the dining room, making it impossible for normal humans to sleep. And I can't use my earplugs because then I'll miss my wake-up call, and that would be bad because I have a performance tomorrow at 7:30 am.

Why did I do it? I could just have said no. Why, god, why? I'm missing one and possibly two callbacks for this. Save me, save me.

But I'm in Rochester again, and I got to have I nice dinner last night, and everything is good except that a recent ice storm knocked out all the power in half the city causing all the families to have to move into my hotel with me, and the "adorable" one and a half year olds are constantly there and peeing in the jacuzzi.

Much love,

Jean