Unsubscribe Here

Culling the Norm

Hi all, Sal here, post-Christmas 2016. This was my second year without the family, and I must say it really does get easier. I am currently living in a lavish 2-bedder flat in Fulham, dog-sitting for a teddybear of a dog, and loving life. I've received a few phone calls, a handful of messages from loved ones. "Merry Christmas; I love you!" the messages exclaim over the screen. Each one makes me smile, and I am grateful for the greetings.

I scroll through Instagram and Facebook as I call loved ones, asking what they got and gave for Christmas. I see brand new outfits in festive colors, perfectly adorned trees and ice rinks, Snapchats of the latest gadgets, and I think, "is this really necessary?"

My Christmas was chill with friends that I've gained this past year. The Last Queen of Paradise was a short-run show that I starred in this past summer, and with all its drawbacks I gained something irreplaceable: friendship. On Christmas Eve, Daniel and I had a veggie meal and musical theatre singing session, picking up the doggy and dancing like there's no tomorrow. On Christmas Day, I spent the evening with Alasdair, replete with lovely meal and entertaining family games. All in all, I've had the simplest Christmas ever. No expensive presents, no decadent outfits, no gluttonous meals. I got complimented on a pair of trousers I bought second-hand, last year. I am so far removed from the "latest" and "newest" anything, and it's so freeing. 

I hate to be the bygone in a roomful of millennials, but the best thing was spending time. Being authentic and present, visiting friends out of love rather than obligation, enjoying the moments rather than the gifts. I want to treasure these feelings, fossilize them in my bank of Christmas memories that are mostly dictated by presents. The My-Size Barbie I got from Mama when I was five. My first pair of point shoes at age 12 (my final "Santa's real" Christmas). My gorgeous pair of Tiffany studs that I lost within a few months (typical Sal). One of my favorite memories was when Mark and Marius gave us all a cardboard box filled with personalized treats. Little things like chocolates and cheeses, salamis and crackers, all selected with love. It was one of the most thoughtful presents I'd ever receive, and my goodness, it was my first taste of Wensleydale and Cranberry cheese, one of my reining favorites to this day. 

I remember recalling this Christmas to Dave, and him saying that it was a cheap gift. Well, cheap works for me. It was a lovely gift with treats I savored for weeks and a memory I'll savor for a lifetime. I wish everyone treasured this simplicity. 

Leaving London News

My time here is running dry and fast. I've found someone to take over my room in Putney, I've packed one of my two suitcases and placed things on eBay. I've dumped a bag of clothes at the Salvos and continue to discard and give away items, eager to shed my belongings to any accepting party. I'm ready to go. I so direly want to stay.

Every time I say goodbye, I complain "no, don't go!" I linger in the hug, I extend the conversation, I loiter on the doorstep. I say one thing and mean "thank you, friend." It's been a good year. I don't believe I'm saying it, but it has! I've grown a lot, with a lot of that growing happening in December, but hey, better late than never. 

This morning, I unsubscribed from my London email lists and deleted hundreds of old, useless emails. Culling feels good. It feels relieving to know that my life does not have to be convoluted at this time. I don't have to bookmark upcoming performances and auditions, I don't have to worry about scheduling work, monitoring checks and balances. My time is done. I can invite Rick to come over, and we'll cook with the ingredients we find in the fridge. Simple. 

Oh goodness, I mentioned Rick!

Um.. we got back together? A month ago? Maybe the reason why I haven't responded as quickly to emails? Um... 

I guess it's out of the bag, so I'm going to say it: I love this man. He's playful like me and responsible unlike me. We match up pretty well. He cooks divinely. What more could a woman want in life? "Spontaneous" flowers that I kindly remind him to get me sometimes? Irrepressible generosity to the homeless? I dig that. He reminds me that life is not so complex, that complaining doesn't get you very far, that £20 means more to those with less means, and that the best dishes take time. 

What we look like together in case you forgot.
(everything I'm wearing is either a gift or second-hand LOL)

So let's give give give and in that giving, receive. 

Peace out, 2016.