Tuesday, November 27, 2012



Seasons Greetings!

So thrilled to be playing Mrs. Cratchit in A Christmas Carol at the Goodman Theatre.

I had the great pleasure of being interviewed by 
Rick Kogan
on 
WBEZ's Afternoon Shift



Have Happy Holidays
and
A Happy New Year!


Tania Richard

Tuesday, November 20, 2012

Keeping Up With The Cratchits



So you may or may not have noticed that I haven't posted anything lately. I'd like to take a moment and pretend it's because you wait with bated breath for every one of my posts. A girl can dream, right?

Anyway, I haven't posted because I have been hella busy rehearsing A Christmas Carol at The Goodman Theatre. I am playing Mrs. Cratchit and I'm loving every minute of playing a character who represents goodness and light.

Photo by Liz Lauren 

I have seen countless actors in interviews talk about how much more fun it is to play the villain than the good guy. I understand the appeal in trying to justify evil motives or bringing humor to not so funny behavior a la the wonderful actor Larry Yando who plays our Scrooge. Actors of his caliber certainly make memorable meanies.

Yet in playing Mrs. Cratchit I revel in the joy of playing a character who serves as a beacon of goodness, love, kindness and hope.

The Cratchits are poor but they are rich in spirit. Their son is crippled but they are inclusive. Their house is small but their hearts are huge.

On stage as Mrs. Cratchit I feel the audience's affection for this iconic family. I sense that the Cratchits inspire people to be as loving and as content with the gifts in their own lives. They remind people that there is a difference between wants and needs.

Mrs. Cratchit reminds me that when in peril I must choose love, joy, humility, thanks. For me, She has illuminated the meaning of abundance.

As a kid, I wanted my family to be like the Brady Bunch because they seemed so perfect and very little ever went wrong.

Now, the Cratchits have set the bar.

God bless us everyone.

And Happy Thanksgiving.

Thursday, October 4, 2012

And the Debate Goes To...Big Bird


I looked forward to the debate like it was the show after a cliffhanger or the last episode of a beloved show. 

I actually appreciated the countdown clock one of the cable news channels displayed in the right hand corner so I knew exactly (to the second) what time it would start.

I am a fan of debates since the Clinton Campaign. I use to tape those and rush home from work at night and watch them right away. 

Last night, I was home to watch the debates in real time. 

Along with the interaction between Obama and Romney another aspect I looked forward to was following my Facebook page and posting status updates throughout the telecast. 

Watching any big-event television (The Olympics, Emmys or Oscars) improves the experience exponentially. 

The only reason I watched all three and some hours of the Oscars last year was because I was on a roll and people were enjoying my posts. 

Staying on Facebook during the debates let me be in a virtual living room and I could actually experience the communal feeling Zuckerberg supposedly strives for. 

Plus I have some hilarious friends who let no good moment pass without a zinger, fact, virtual eye roll or informative link. 

There I was watching it; a little nervous for both candidates simply because I had empathy for how important it was on both sides to deliver. 

I wanted one to deliver more than the other but I could imagine the nerves before such a trial and I didn't envy either of them.

As I started to post and read other updates I realized I was hearing and or comprehending less and less of what the candidate and President were saying. 

The non-verbals were glaring, the awkward interrupting of Jim Lehrer and blatant ignoring of the set time limits raised my cringe factor high. 

By the time Mitt Romney threw Big Bird under the bus (Who does that? Apparently Romney does) I was much more interested in creating a photo (below) for a status update then reveling in the fact that my FB friends "liked" me than what either guy was saying.


    
Big Bird started trending on Twitter, a Facebook page was created and all of Sesame Street was up in arms.



(By the way, many have referred to Big Bird as a Muppet. In fact, he is not. I guess you could say Muppets and Sesame Street Citizens are members of the same union, though. Solidarity.)

Although I thoroughly enjoyed and am still enjoying the comments on Big Bird I realize my attention to FB completely distracted me from my original goal; following the debate seriously. 

Anyone else get distracted from the point?

This election (or any other) is no joke. 

I look forward to the next debate and I'm going to save the virtual living room for more frivolous affairs. 

I want to pay attention.

I'll definitely check FB after, though.




Wednesday, June 27, 2012

Work Life Balance or The Lies Contemporary Mothers Tell Themselves


The Pros think I need to spend less time with my children. The "Pros" are my therapist and my sister who thinks I'm too good a mother and should let my kids watch more TV.

Well, my daughters are far from deprived of television but I think I get my my therapists point.

As an actress, writer, teacher and small business owner my schedule is unpredictable and jam packed.

I teach twice a week, go to auditions, book jobs, run my business, blog, and various other things that keep all my careers afloat.

Basically, I work full time (as far as the commitment and focus I put towards my career) but I don't need to be any one place every day to do it,

I spend a good deal of time with my girls. A good deal. Yes, maybe too much.

I'm also a wife who loves her husband and actually likes spending time with him. What a concept.

When I think of the term "work-life balance" (which has received much attention lately due to an article written by Anne-Marie Slaughter) I imagine there should be an equal distribution of time devoted to both. Which is impossible.

I also figure if one of those things is going to suffer it had better be work and not my life; primarily my children. Let's face it: When women think work-life balance they are rarely including genuine time for themselves, which is why trips to the gynecologist or dentist start to hold the same appeal as spa treatments.

Recently, I wasn't going to attend an important work function (which by the way could serve the dual purpose of being fun "me" time) because work had been very busy and I felt like the babysitter was starting to get top billing in my household.

After a considerable amount of back and forth (mostly trying to talk myself out of wanting to go) I decided to attend the event. This meant that I was gone an entire day as well as an entire evening.

Lo and behold, twelve hours away from the girls made me much more available for them in mind and spirit throughout the rest of the week.

I was more patient, less tired, and more able to fill the three to six o'clock bewitching hours most mother's would pluck their eyelashes to avoid.

Equal distribution between work and life is a myth. It's the imbalance (for instance twelve hours away) that creates balance. Ultimately the balance is internal not external.

Another topic that has been getting attention lately is the question of whether women can "have it all."

We are all still stuck on that commercial where the sexy woman brings home the bacon, fries it up in a pan, and never ever lets him forgets he's a man. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jA4DR4vEgrs Thanks a lot Enjoli.

That spot has done more damage over the years than the smell of that cheap perfume. It demanded that women be plate spinners on par with circus freaks. And because the model was a pretty blonde (the ultimate ideal) women aspired to be her. They bought it. (I don't know if they bought Enjoli but they bought the lie.)

I don't think women can have it all because I don't even know what that means.

It's such an American ideal that the benchmark of life is having it all. It completely negates the individual and demands that everyone's goals should be the same.

I always tell my oldest, "Be happy with what you have."

Most parents don't teach our kids to expect to "have it all".

We teach them about patience and priorities, delayed gratification, and give them a sense of the big picture.

We need to parent ourselves and live by the same ideals.

Otherwise we are going to be drained, unhappy, crazed, and always feel just out of reach of the "Enjoli-ideal" which was a commercial NOT life.













Tuesday, May 22, 2012

Things Laryngitis Taught Me
  • There is a lesson in every thing. (I spelled the word everything in two words on purpose for em-pha-sis)
  • If you can't yell you don't yell.
  • When you speak softly, other people around you start to do the same.
  • There is something to be said for talking less and thinking more.
  • Taking pause and reserving comment for another time is most useful when engaging with your spouse. (Love ya, honey.)
  • Talking less increases your patience.

Exercise Update

Last I visited the topic of exercise was in my post Running As Fast As I Can where I engaged in wanderlust about running and committed to a runner's life (or my version of it. )

The day after I wrote that post I injured myself by lightly running for fifteen minutes on a treadmill.

Not exactly sure how I did it. I am sure I spent the next week walking around with hip, lower back, and shoulder pain along with the overwhelming feeling that my joints were on fire.

Enter Crazy Track Lady who was almost Crazy Trampoline Lady until my husband convinced me that jumping up and down on a trampoline was not going to be the best solution to my fragile bodied woes.

He suggested I walk on the track at the Y (slowly) and listen to music.

Well, walking around slowly didn't appeal to me until I put my own spin on it.

Introducing The Dance/Walk Workout. All it takes is you, music, earplugs and a willingness to shake your groove thing in public when no one else is dancing.

Yup! I'm that lady who people try to avoid making eye contact with because I'm dancing like no one else is watching except they are watching because I'm at the gym. 

I dance to Beyonce, Broadway, Bono as well as artists whose names start with other letters of the alphabet.

Due to my physical limitations, I use small movements and I keep the dancing somewhat low key.
It's hard to contain myself, though. If I had my druthers, I'd be in full on Fame-I-want-to-live-forever mode.

An acquaintance who takes the Spin Class that happens at the same time I workout told me that she tells her fellow cyclists, "She's a writer! She's working on her next idea."

What she inadvertently revealed was that her fellow cyclists talk about me and whatever they say compels her to come to my defense.

I don't care.

I've seen just as many people looking my way with longing wishing they had the boxy to do my workout rather than have their trainer barking in their ears.

Anyway, that's what I choose to believe.

So now, I'm not running as fast as I can. I am dance/walking as fast as I can. Which is pretty slow.

But it sure is fun.



Thursday, April 19, 2012

Disney Needs a Princess with Some Kink

My daughter thinks she's a Princess.

She adores Ariel; a mermaid who gives up her entire underwater life to marry a Prince. Hence, becoming a Princess.

I've ruined her.

I first showed her Little Mermaid and Beauty and the Beast; those durn Disney films because I love Little Mermaid and Beauty and the Beast.

They are good movies with great soundtracks (granted I'm a musical theater geek but--ahem, I digress).

When she started playing dress up at preschool and wore the princess dresses and jewels everyday, I couldn't help buying her a few so she could do the same at home.

She wore them morning, noon, and night and would have worn them to bed if I'd let her.

Ruined.

At least when I hear her playing at the park and her dialogue consists of "Save me, Prince. Save me!" I counter it with, "Don't forget you can save yourself, honey!"

That strikes the right balance, right? Riiiight.

Now I'm grappling with the fact that my precious girl, with her kinky-curly-just-above-her-shoulders-brown hair wants long straight hair; like Rapunzel (whom she learned about in Disney's Tangled.What?! I wanted to see it and figured she'd like it, too!)

Anyway, Disney's Rapunzel is an empowered ingenue who doesn't fall into your typical princess stereotypes. Well, except for that long (really long) straight blond hair.

Aw crap.

Now, she runs around the house with an apron tied around her head so she can feel it swishing on her back.

While the princess dresses she wears are cute it drives me nuts to look her way and see that apron on her head. With great determination, she heads for the door with the intention of wearing it in public. I'm all for self expression but there are limits. The apron just makes her look like she's a crazy person.

The picture below was taken in the back of our house. I won't let her go past the driveway with that thing on her head.




The desire for long hair that covers your back is a rite of passage for most girls (unless they actually have long hair that covers their back).

Even Whoopi Goldberg in her1984 self titled Broadway show played a young black girl with a shirt on her head pretending it was her long straight hair; the hair our culture upholds and adores.

Generally speaking, black hair grows at a much slower rate than Caucasian hair because the hair coils in the follicle which makes it more difficult to come out.

Therein lies a problem.

I happened upon a solution the other day. In the dress-up aisle at Target there was a kid-size long blond Rapunzel wig made by Disney. I got dizzy thinking how much my princess would love it but then my excitement waned.

Then I began to think that getting her that wig would be a set up that would exacerbate her desire for a kind of hair she'd never have.

I figured it'd be irresponsible of me to let her wear it. Then again, it is better than an apron. Hmmm...

I haven't bought it. Just like I haven't bought one of those doll heads that lets young girls (and maybe boys) style hair and put on make-up. All of those things have straight hair. Even the black ones have straight hair.

Hey, doll makers! Curly hair needs styling, too! Hey, Disney kid-size wig makers! Why can't there be a long kinky-curly hair wig!

Ah well.

I guess I'll have to make peace with that apron, forgive myself for ruining her, stop trying to micro manage my daughter's childhood, and be grateful from the bottom of my heart that I get to have such "worries".

But that apron is not leaving the house.