After a most enjoyable two months with family in Northern California, following a three month cruise ship entertainment contract that ventured halfway around the world, I am pleased to report that this rambunxious redhead is returning to New York City.

Considering I haven’t experienced truly cold weather since last winter, I am pretty nervous about the trek from the aiport to Astoria in a sweatshirt and my Dad’s old leather jacket. (Currently on the plane as I type.) I clearly wasn’t thinking about packing my full length “sleeping bag” coat that I normally don in below-freezing weather. I barely rememered to pack gloves and a beanie for this trip. I mean, can I really expect to survive the next couple weeks of real winter?

“Couple weeks?” you might ask…

Well, yes. At the end of the month, I return to California, this time to the mountain town of Sonora, for a three month run of Mary Poppins at Sierra Repertory Theatre. I’m thrilled! However, it seems that I cannot commit to one home for more than three months at a time. Is this my destiny?

In 2014, my “home” went something like this: one week at sea, two weeks in NorCal, three months in NYC, two weeks in England, nine days at sea, three months in NYC, three months at sea, two nights in NYC, two months in NorCal… (sigh)

It seems silly, really. And yet the question I seem to be answering more and more these days is:

“Where do you want to live? New York or California?”

or

“Are you going to stay in NYC now that you’re not doing any more ship contracts?”

I have to admit that this is better than the questions about when I would move back to the Bay Area and find a man with whom I could procreate. But the honest truth is… I have no idea how to answer. How I wish I could give a tidy response, all tucked up with glitter in colorful cellophane with a big fucking bow. These days I respond with a blanket statement that soon I’ll be super duper rich and can live everywhere. That’s plausible, right? I think I’d make Santa Barbara my primary home… a nice townhouse in the West Village, private yacht in the Mediterranean, a sensible time share in Kauai…

I digress. Luckily I can always come home to my awesome apartment in Astoria. I doubt I’ll ever move out of that place.

Looking at my life in the arts – it doesn’t truly seem possible to predict or have any certainty of where I might live. I will return to New York in the Spring when Mary Poppins ends its run – but I am sure that my next project will take me out of town. (I have my hopes as to which ones pan out.) It used to confound me that this was a subject of such uncertainty, but I believe that the last few years I have spent living at sea – hopping from country to country and witnessing the remarkable minisculity of the world – have alleviated any sort of fears that this very uncertainly could exist my entire life. In fact, that, almost spinning of the globe and placing a finger, somewhat frees my spirit and excites my soul. If only my amazing kitty Marcel could always come along…

Look at the great artists of the past. Composers, painters, sculptors, poets – for them to survive in certain times, they were taken on by a patron who would house them, feed them, nourish their art and soul. In the theater world, the modern equivalent might potentially be an equity national tour with a weekly minimum and per diem. (Here’s hoping!)

It’s all very romantic and exciting. With a milestone birthday last year and my final cruise ship contract with Choozi Entertainment and Silversea coming to a close – there was a lot of anxiety and tense nerves surrounding my inner-thoughts on my future. But something must have snapped along the way. Maybe in a trip to St. Petersburg’s Hermitage Musuem at the Winter Palace? Or was it the Plains of Abraham in Quebec City? That last snorkeling trip at the Baths in Virgin Gorda? Maybe it was dinner and bowling with my family last night in Danville. Everything will be okay. I’m on the right path. I will honor my creative impulses and keep taking these risks. Because so far it’s paying off. And while I may not know where I’ll be this summer – I guarantee I’ll be having a hell of a time being my authentic artist self.

Update: I made it home just fine and am now nice and warm in my delightful apartment. Props to Hoyt Limo and my fantastic driver Giuseppe for the awesome service as usual.