Free...

Lately I've been thinking a lot about the ridiculous aspects of this business. The ass-kissing, and the politics of being invited to certain things, or who's talking to you and who's snubbing you. It's so easy to get caught up in worrying about:

What does everyone think of me?

That you can lose track of what you're supposed to be focusing on. At least, I do. Why is it so easy to get obsessed with things you can't control? Now I'm not an Oprah person, but I've watched a few episodes in my day. And one of my favourite Oprah-isms is this:

It's none of my business what other people think of me.

Which, being an Oprah-ism, means she actually probably co-opted it from one of her guests, but I don't remember the guest, so sorry, guest! But I think it's a great mantra to try and remember. Hard to practice, though.

But I was thinking about it, specifically about how I've lived in this prairie city for just over a decade now, and there are still people who can't be bothered to remember my name, or who think I'm a stage manager (a gig I stopped doing years ago), or who see me as just the wife/girlfriend of a better-known actor/writer. Or the people who probably don't ever think of me at all, because frankly, most people think mostly of themselves, especially in the biz, where it is encouraged and admired for some reason.

And I got to thinking about it, and I was feeling slightly embittered about the state of my career in town, and how I was going to focus on out-of-town places, (probably a better market for my work, anyhoo), and how I was just going to do awesome indie stuff, and everyone else could suck it, and I suddenly realized:

Exactly who are these people? Who the fuck are these people that I'm spending so much time agonizing that they don't know my work, or think I'm talented, or whatever I'm accusing them of thinking or not thinking about me, when in reality they're probably not thinking about me at all?

And then I started thinking how great it would be to be free of that. To be free of a lot of worrying about what people have said or thought of me, artistically in particular. My parents, past teachers, past directors, current AD's, and so on and so forth. And imagined being free of feeling like I had to please those people, like I had to live up to some strange standard or negate some thoughtless, offhand comment from 10 years ago.

Wouldn't it be great to let go of that and just feel good about doing what I want to do? Not to worry if random people who can't remember my name think I'm good or talented or worthwhile?

To be free of seeking validation from others?

To be free to make decisions without going through a bunch of hypothetical opinions?

To be FREE?

And I guess I was having some kind of Artist's Way moment, because I started thinking about people in two groups: people who are supportive, and people who aren't. And I'm thinking I'm going to surround myself with those supporters, the awesome people who make me feel good. Haters, I'm sorry, you're moving out of a position of power in my life.

Because, seriously... when I, stubborn, independent, opinionated modern gal that I am think about all the ways I give up my own power...

That's got to change.

Anyone out there ever reclaim their power in that sense?
Should I go watch more Oprah?

Five To Go...

I think I'm down to about the last five pages for the Big Time Theat-ah Development Script, which is good news, because I have to submit it to the program facilitator in whatever state it's in tomorrow morning. Fortunately, I still get a week to revise it a little, and perhaps finish those last five pages. And, you know, make it make sense.

It's always a little daunting sharing something for the first time-- you live with it long enough that it becomes tiresome or boring or stupid, or whatever displeasurable adjective you can think of at the time. Experiencing other people hearing it can often bring it back to life. But a first draft... yikes. First drafts are tough. And this first draft is fresh out of my head and onto the page, so hopefully I'll at least catch the times I reworded and repeated the same paragraph three times, and all that other great stuff you do when you're trying to express an idea.

I'm assuming that everyone in the group feels squirrelly and nervous about hearing their first drafts read as well. Like me, they will just be covering it up.

I'm excited to go back into the forum, excited to hear where everyone's plays have gone, to discuss the plays we were assigned to read. I'm afraid that mine will be the worst, even in a situation where there really aren't any best and worst.

Going to try and read the whole thing through today before sending it tomorrow.

Ack.

Happy SVC Day, Y'All!

You mean you don't know what SVC Day is? Why, it's the day that Sweet Valley Confidential is released. What's Sweet Valley Confidential? Why, it's the novel that picks up ten years after the ever-popular Sweet Valley High series.

Are the twins still a perfect size six? What happened to the Fiat? Apparently Bruce Patman and Elizabeth are best friends now, Jessica's divorced, and Elizabeth cries when she has orgasms.

Suffice it to say that I am too cheap to buy my own, but so impatient about waiting my turn at the library that I may crack. I may have to steal over to the bookstore on my lunch hour and read a couple of chapters a day.

Solo

That's the kind of play I'm writing for the Big Time Theat-ah Development Opportunity. A solo. I've never written a solo before, at least not one that was longer than about 10 minutes. And it's hard. Like, really hard. And lonely. And you wonder if you're being a little bit boring. I did go see a couple of full-length-ish solos this year that made me feel a lot better about a single person telling a story being engaging.

Part of it I think is that for a regular play, I could say "Today I'm going to write the cocktail party scene" and there would be a separate scene, a separate chunk of script that I could write and it would be done and I would feel accomplished. But because of the nature of this play, there are sections, but not separate scenes per se. And so it just feels like I'm writing on and on and on without the same kind of guideposts as more people entering or exiting, or doing something gives you.

Currently, I'm writing 2 pages a day or more, which takes about as long as it would take to write 8-10 normal pages. It is driving me crazy.

On April 11 I have to hear it read. And it has to be done. I mean, not totally done. But to have a beeginning, a middle, and an end.

I will get there.

Oh you guys...

I'm watching "Bizarre Foods With Andrew Zimmerman", and he's "stranded" in the jungle in Mexico, forced to fend for himself.

My first question, which is really more of a comment, is:
If I knew I'd only be trapped for a day, I'd probably hold off on eating bugs. I'm not saying I would never eat creepy crawlies, but it wouldn't be a Day 1 priority. I know that wouldn't be great tv, but seriously, you can't go without eating for six hours? Didn't you eat before you left?

Fortunately, he's had some survivalist training. From a guy, who, no joke, is called MYKE HAWKE.
Obviously he's some kind of ex-military dude, because you'd pretty much have to machosize yourself with a name like that. Naturally this led to about a half hour of immature riffing on our part:

1) (AZ goes in for a hug) Whoa, first rule of the jungle--hands off Myke Hawke.
2) (while they're searching for food) You just relax and let Myke Hawke find something to put in your mouth.
3) (during the in-class portion of training) Myke Hawke is very experienced.
4) Etcetera.

I feel so juvenile. But I can't help it. I had this sudden dream sequence of being in this class to learn about survival, to learn vital information that I would need to make it on my own, and I wouldn't be able to focus. I would die in the jungle making jokes about Myke Hawke.

Hey-o!

Ambitions

Every year I think "This is the year I'm going to do generals," meaning general auditions. It's kind of an open call for theatre companies to see actors, once a year. You go in, do a couple of monologues or maybe a song, and they say "thank you" and then you leave.It's simultaneously basic and nerve-wracking. And by "doing generals", I mean actually travelling to surrounding cities to do generals (I already do generals here every couple of years).

Needless to say, this takes some organization. And advance knowledge and saving of money. And every year, I think "I'm not quite ready" yet. And I have a lot of standard "reasons" which are more correctly "excuses" as to why I'm not actively pursuing things. So next year, I have decided, I will be ready. Next May, yours truly is going to be travelling around Western Canada, having a grand old time trucking out her party pieces for new and exciting artistic directors.

I have said it. That means it has to happen, right?

In the meantime, I'm going to try and get in on a couple of companies that are having auditions in my city. Which is a little scary when it comes down to the reality beyond popping my photo/resume in the mail. But I have over a month to prepare. And who knows, they may not even want to see me...

Another ambition I have long held... a ridiculous, silly ambition? To record a Christmas album-- specifically 1940's/1950's Christmas songs. The beautiful and talented Sarah at Size 8 Struggle recorded a fab album last Christmas (so hopefully she doesn't think I'm copying her!) and I was so inspired by it. This ambition dates back to childhood years when I thought the greatest job in the world would be to be a lounge singer. I have a couple of songs picked out already...

Would that be silly and lame and self-indulgent? And if so, is it wrong for me to be so silly and self-indulgent?

Pushing vs. Being Pushy

I've been sending out my work. To a lot of different people, festivals, and theatres. I've sent my latest play to people who know me, who don't know me, who know some of my friends, and to complete and utter strangers.

It takes a while. And the expectation is that you won't hear back from anyone. Because it seems that all producing theatres have piles and piles of scripts from writers, and no time to read them all. Plus a lot of places already have plays in development with writers they already know,and it's a big risk to spend a lot of money on an unknown writer, etc. etc. etc.

So I can understand it taking months and months to even get a rejection letter back, especially when I've taken it upon myself to ask a busy stranger to read my work. But it's when people I know-- people in my own theatre community-- specifically request my play, and then don't respond to any kind of follow-up contact... well, that sort of bugs me.

And it's not like I send a script on Wednesday and I'm calling them on Friday asking them how I liked it. I mean, I let a decent amount of time go by. And I'm polite-- "Just following up, I'd love to hear your thoughts, etc."

It's no secret that I hate the schmooze. I mean, there's legitimate networking, and then there's the schmooze. The fakey-fake, poured-on, ass-kissing of self-congratulation. And I'll bet some people would say "well, you're in the wrong business, then." But I don't think it has to be that way. I just don't know the line where gentle pushing becomes pushy.

I feel like there needs to be a little mutual excitement about working together. I know people are busy, I know you have to keep reminding people about yourself, but I feel like after I've called a couple of times, emailed a couple of times to follow up, I'm being pushy. And if you're not interested enough to even say "Not for me, no thanks." or "I really liked it, but I'm swamped, let's schedule something for next month." or whatever, if it left such a small impression on you that you don't even care to get back to me, well... is it something I should be pushing at all?

And please understand, I'm talking about people I know, who I see regularly. Am I wrong? Is it not correct to assume that people should be at least a little interested in a play I spent so much time on?

Or do I just need to be pushier?

Act Two...

Yes, I am now ensconced in Act Two, still hoping that I will eventually figure out what I am writing about. And I think I'm on track to finish by my deadline.

I've realized that I have pretty much no free time until sometime after April 20, when the second session of the Big Time Theat-ah Development Variety Hour concludes. Until then, my time is eaten by:
1)working
2)writing
3)seeing plays
4)reading the assigned plays for the Theat-ah Development thing-y
5)trying to make money

Making money, my favourite and least favourite topic. We are a little broke, my friends. I know, nothing new. But we're both trying to make a concerted effort to get rid of some debt so we can do fun things instead of eating spaghetti 4 days a week. This also means I accept strange standardized patient gigs, because I need need need the money. Listing stuff on Amazon (although nothing has sold yet), counting change. You know the drill.

The other day in rehearsal, a local actor/writer-type person apparently told J that she envies our life, which is kind of hilarious, because she's certainly what I would consider more successful than me. But I guess where we really went right (according to her, anyway) is not having kids to get in the way of our creative careers. If we had kids, I would make them get jobs. Ok, I probably wouldn't.

I also got to go see a dietician this week, which I thought would be lame, but was actually pretty cool. Let the healthy, balanced eating begin!

And apparently there is some kind of public workshop planned for the plays at the Big Time Theat-ah throughout next season. How do I know this? I read it in a program the other night.

Hopefully more information is forthcoming...

Awkward Encounters

I had a weird experience this morning... I got on the bus to go to work, and there was this woman smiling at me... and she looked very familiar. Now, I'm notoriously terrible with names, so it took me a second to remember. Turns out she was a shrink I saw for a few months a couple of years ago... She was a masters student at the time, and only a couple of years older than me. I think her specialization was art therapy, and we probably would have had a lot in common, had we not had that pesky headshrinker-client relationship.

I wasn't really sure if I should sit next to her, or talk to her, or what, but we ended up chatting for the ride downtown. I guess she lives in my neighborhood.

WEIRD. I mean, not pathological weird, but weird, nonetheless.

Don't Hold Your Breath...

This is the instruction that my voice teacher gave me yesterday. Like, quite literally, don't hold your breath. Which is a bad habit of mine. Because, friends, I hold my breath ALL THE TIME. It's some kind of stress management/holding back emotions/who knows why psychological quirk of mine. I could probably go on for ages, analyzing it. But I won't.

Apparently I had a bit of a breakthrough at yesterday's lesson, which has left me feeling a bit unguarded and vulnerable. See, when you hold everything back behind a safely clenched diaphragm, releasing it makes you a little loopy. Just letting it all go makes you a little anxious.

And I'm confused about tension vs. impulse vs. normal, non-tense muscle activity, and a host of other things.

I just want to sing! How hard should that be?

To keep in mind while writing...

The only person expecting the first draft to be brilliant is me. All anyone else is expecting is for the draft to be done.

Take deep breaths and repeat.

It's startling to sometimes see so clearly that the creator of most of my obstacles is myself.

I made it!

Yes, I finished shooting yesterday, and I'm glad the 3 days is over. I didn't get fired for being lame/fat/untalented/having a terrible wardrobe, all of which was a great relief. Although I am going to miss having someone do my hair and makeup.

I get the feeling that I wasn't on the greatest set ever-- the director was... inexperienced, and there were a few times I noticed a wee bit of tension between the crew and the director (who didn't seem to have a good understanding of the process and preparation involved). I tried to be the model of professionalism-- oh, you want me to hold the plates at this level? Can do! This time don't turn my head until after I finish my line? No problem.

I'd kind of forgotten that film stuff is incredibly technical for the actor... you're kind of like a prop that can talk. An important prop, but still a prop that's expected to stand, move and talk the same way every take. We were shooting with kids on the first couple of days, which was challenging, because they couldn't keep track of things like not looking into the camera during every. single. take.

I don't know when I'm going to be on tv. From my understanding, they'll be starting the ads on their website first, then broadcasting them on television towards the end of the summer.

I'm pretty proud of myself. And pretty excited about the paycheck, too.

Tomorrow is the big day...

You guys, I am so nervous! I am shooting all day tomorrow, Monday evening, and Tuesday all day. In the first commercial I'm a harried mom (mom? I'm old enough to be a mom?), in the second I'm half of a fun young couple. First shoot has no dialogue, Tuesday has a few pages (which I need to get my ass in gear and memorize).

Here's a sample of some thoughts running through my brain:
What if I suck?
What if everyone realizes I don't know what I'm doing?
What if my clothes choices (from my very limited wardrobe)are awful?
What if I look even chunkier on camera?
What if they fire me for sucking/not knowing what I'm doing/having terrible clothes/being chunky?

Yes, it's a full-blown riot, where self-esteem and anxiety team up to make me lose sleep. Here's what I try to tell myself:
Clearly I don't suck, because I got hired. Also, we can always do another take if something doesn't work.
Obviously I won't know what I'm doing--it's my first commercial. That's why questions were invented.
My clothes are what they are-- I'm going to do my best with what I have.
I have no idea if I'm going to look chunkier or not. I assume that since they'd seen me on camera before hiring me, it's not going to be a huge shock to them.
If I get fired, I'm going to make my agent have them pay me for at least the day. But I'm not going to get fired.

It doesn't help that I had one of THOSE dreams last night... really weird dreams where I was a photographer and interviewing all these people I knew, and realizing gradually that none of them actually liked me and they wished I would just leave, so I slunk out into the parking lot, where some kind of hillbilly hoe-down was taking place, complete with a buffet of various types of live beetles.

OK, the dream itself makes no sense, but it was still one of those dreams where you wake up and feel all disappointed because of how people treated you and it takes a while to remember it was just a stupid dream. And while we're on the subject, I clearly remember being entranced by the movie "Waking Life", where they told you that one way to tell you're dreaming is that tech things don't work, and writing is incomprehensible. Yet I even more clearly remember a chafing dish of giant red beetles with a handwritten sign saying "Got to get your RED MEAT!". So am I some kind of dream weirdo who can read things in her dreams? Does that not happen to everyone?

It doesn't help that I am working pretty much constantly. I need a day off. I miss the days of working 3 hours shifts and then wandering around having coffee and thrift store shopping. I miss naps. I miss having time and energy to cook something more complex than grilled cheese sandwiches or spaghetti. Soon spring will come and I will have more time. And then the summer, when we're not open into the evenings.

Soon!

Heard back from my agent...

And it looks like the commercial gig is a go! I shoot Sunday, Monday and Tuesday. And my job is being lovely and understanding and giving me the time off! And the best part of all is that I'm getting paid a pretty handsome amount of money.

Could I be living the dream?

Well, I wouldn't go that far. I do have to bring some wardrobe options, which I'm a little nervous about, since my wardrobe is a bit limited at the moment. I may sneak in a quick Value Village run and see if I can pick up a couple of new-to-me items.

That and I have to squeeze in a couple of plays, several full days of work, and lots of writing between now and then. Basically, March feels like I'm working 24 hours a day, every. single. day.

I can't wait till April. For one, I will likely have at least some time off over Easter. And the next session of the playwrights unit will feel like a vacation. An intense, mentally tiring vacation.

Putting Myself Out There

The other day I was volunteering for a local theatre company's casino-- I'd heard the food was miles better than bingo food, and what could it hurt to show some support, mix and mingle and help out... particularly with season announcements just around the corner?

I was chatting with the AD (artistic director), who was lamenting that he felt he was never going to "break through" to the next level (those of you who know me for realz may know him... actor/writer/designer/artistic director). Anyhoo, I confessed that I felt the same way. He said that he thought I would, but wondered if I meant as an actor or a writer. I said both ideally, but I just feel like I'm never going to get cast in work I don't have a hand in creating. And he said he did think I'd find work as an actor, but that I had to keep reminding people that I'm an actor.

And not just because I write, although that doesn't always help my case. It's because there are... well, there are a lot of actors. Even here. And it's easy to forget people, or think they're not interested, or think they're focusing on doing something else now, like writing. And really, I need to put myself out there more, remind people that I'm here, I'm good, and I'm ready to work.

I don't quite know how to do that. Do yet another round of generals? New pictures? Become one of those people who self-promote really well without being completely obnoxious about it?

I need to say yes to more things. Like this thing: in April I will be joining some fellows who do a Mystery Science Theatre-style riff on bad movies-- my movie? Twilight. They need a lady's point of view, and they thought I'd be funny. Will I be funny? I don't know. It's one thing to make comments in the warm cosiness of your living room, quite another to make them into a microphone in a theatre full of people.

I guess we'll see...

Booking it...?

Well friends, it looks like some acting work may have fallen into my lap. I say "may" because it's not 100% confirmed yet, but the long and the short of it is that some marketing lady saw me in a comedy sketch I filmed for a troupe here before Christmas, and wants to put me in a couple of commercials.

Now before you imagine me being discovered at Schwab's or something, I will stress that these are local commercials, probably of the slightly hokey persuasion. I will also stress that I am waiting until she says "Yes, you are the person I mean", because apparently she thought she was contacting me a month ago, and she was actually contacting another girl from the video. Wouldn't it be hilarious if that happened again? And by hilarious, of course, I mean completely and totally unhilarious.

In any case, I've talked to her, emailed her my photo so she can be double-sure it's me she means, and given her my agent's contact information. (Amazing how my agent is suddenly extremely interested in my life once there's the prospect of getting paid-- but that's another story).

We shoot Sunday, Monday night, and Tuesday all day if this is in fact the gig. Should be a goodly amount of money for my trouble, I'm thinking.

OK, that's the quasi-news for the day. Back to writing.

And Hair We Are...

OK, that's the name of a salon across the street from my salon. For some reason, I find it endlessly funny. Partially because I imagine the day the person thought of it, and presenting the idea to someone. I imagine the presentation involved jazz hands, a sunny smile, and one of those loaded pauses that happen when you're waiting to be praised.

In any case, I got my hair cut a couple of weeks ago. Those of you who do not know me in person may not realize that I have twice the head hair of a normal person. I have a lot of hair, which is very thick, and vaguely wavy. I know, I shouldn't complain. Lots of thin-haired people (I thought about coming up with a clever name for them, but it's too cold to think)would love to have my hair.

Except thick uncooperative hair can get crazy looking, y'all. And my new haircut, which I loved loved loved styled curly (the ends are now thinned out enough to make this possible), has had some kind of mental event since it encountered the horrible, nogood, verybad cold and dry weather we've been having. It's kind of a disaster at the moment. I hesitate to flat iron it every day, but maybe that will solve the problem. I don't want to start fooling around with a curling iron on a day when I actually have to be somewhere, because we all know that makeup and hair experiments will invariably go awry when you have to be at work in 45 minutes. And my hair's too short to go with the ever-forgiving ponytail.

In other news, it's really fucking cold! I think it's been around -35 to -40C with the windchill the last couple of days, with no real end in sight. I always feel like bitterly cold weather is the most wearing on the soul. A lot of people will talk about the lack of daylight in winter, but for me, it's the cold.

I got another couple of requests for complete scripts based on submissions, which I consider to be a victory. One of them is a new play festival in the US. One is a theatre company. So fingers crossed, I guess.

Still working on the first draft. We've also been assigned to send in the title of our favourite play, the play we worship and never tire of getting excited about. I'm not sure about this one. I have to resist the urge to impress and make some kind of honest choice. I'm curious to see what everyone else will pick. I have an idea of what mine is, but it's completely different than anything I write, so I have a feeling everyone will be surprised.

Back to work. Happy Thursday, friends!

When is a day off not a day off?

a) when you have to go in to work at 5pm
b) when you can't get your mind off of your real work passion
c) when you get excited about having "free time" because it means you can get all the stuff on your to-do list done.

Yes, I'm working a late shift today, which is kind of a treat. Normally I would go out and have a bit of a shopping adventure, but it's bitterly cold here (so, so sick of that), and I'm broke. So I got some groceries, and am currently making lunches for the rest of the week.

On the menu? Besides the regular fruit and veggies, I'm giving the famous Veganomicon chickpea cutlets another shot. I kind of overdid them the first Christmas I went home as a vegetarian-- my parents were less than accepting, and I didn't want to be a huge bother. Hence I packed a stack of these in a tupperware in my luggage, and ate 2 every day over the holidays. Needless to say, they needed a break from the menu rotation.

I've spent some time working on a couple of submissions-- currently my half-to-one page play summary is close to two pages long. Oops. I'll be spending some time trimming this down tonight. And my somewhat ambitious goal is to get the complete first act of the new play in draft form by the time March rolls around. Leaving March and part of April to write the second act and do some rewrites.

Sometimes, I wish I wrote more commercial stuff. I've been looking at all the audition notices for the summer rep companies, and reading the synopses of the plays they do... it makes me wonder if I'll ever get produced. Not that I'm writing out there, controversial pieces about poop and abortion and child literacy. And I think there's already plenty of easily digestible, tv-like plays out there already, that completely absolve the audience of any need to think.

But still.

Anyway, the oven just beeped. Chickpea cutlets are calling!

Ch-ch-ch-changes!

I've decided to do a bit of a blog makeover, so until I find the time and knowledge to design my own, I'm going to try a few free templates from the wide, wide world of web.

What do you think?

Happy Valentime's!

Hello, friends. I know, it's been a while. My life has been both busy and insanely boring, at the same time. I've been working a lot, to try to come up with some cash to (1) pay off some debt, (2) go on a holiday at some point, (3)attend my brother's wedding, (4)get some new clothes, and (5)not to feel like I'm broke all the time.

It's been a coupon-clipping, grilled-cheese-and-soup-eating kind of month. And it looks like next month isn't any better.

However. I need to do something creative and cheap for Valentine's Day. It can be cheesy and lame, but I am having a hard time coming up with ideas. Apparently I blew my wad on the best Valentine's surprise *evarrr* the first year we were going out (it was cheap and cheesy, involving a scavenger hunt and drug store chocolates). But I've had a request from J to "do something cool again" for V-Day.

Hmmmm.

Now, you'd think that the perfect place to look for ideas of this nature would be the internet... the interwebs, with their vast selection of blogs, repository of women's magazine articles. You'd think that if there was an idea to be had, the inter-tubes would have it.

And I'm sure there are plenty of awesome ideas to be had, they just may not show up on the first page of Google. Because I have to say, hug coupons are not that great to give between adults, Canadian Living. And Martha Stewart Living,while your taste level is unassailable, I can pretty much guarantee that I'm not going to make my sweet baboo a floral arrangement made of painstakingly glued, hand-cut, crepe-paper flowers. Nor do I agree that decorating a heart-shaped box with antique lace and baking "precious jewel" candies to go inside is a "quick and easy gift". I'm sorry, but you just don't get that time back.

Do they write magazine articles for this predicament? Being normally a cool and clever person who is a little strapped for time and cash, and needing to come up with an awesome gift that can be assembled from things found (1) at the drug store or dollar store, and (2) during my extremely limited lunch breaks, and (3) is not a gift certificate for a foot rub, or an hour of watching sports without complaining, or some other bullshit like that.

What magazine would that be? Why am I not reading it? If it doesn't exist, why am I not publishing it?

Actually, I do have a few ideas. Some of them may or may not be ripped off from that great waiting room literature, Canadian Living. But I have to be careful to save up some DIY gift ideas for next December, because I've been informed that we may be experiencing Imagination Christmas.

Which at least saves me from trying to knit a pair of socks in the next three days.