Just felt the need to say that in my meeting, I was clutching my arm and pressing my eye to help hold down the twitching, as though somehow grabbing an arm and plugging my eye looks less weird than a mild shaking that no one else probably noticed. My body is bugging out on me. Is this a sign?

Work is stressful. At times I really question whether or not I can do my job. Mornings like this, however, I feel empowered. Pumpkin spice makes me strong. I can do it. At least until my little paper cup is empty.

To respect their privacy, I’ll leave out the details of my family members’ trials and travails. I will say that one is waging her own war and we wonder when a truce will be called. One is stuck in some sort vacuum of awful. And one is on a weird treadmill of the same stuff over and over.

Then there’s the added level of complexity that my family is a little different. I thought that our version of different was different even from the usual different, but it seems our different is just like everyone else’s different. I thought we had done away with the traditional by being such a non-traditional bunch. Turns out, the grandest tradition of family dysfunction and finger pointing can still rear its ugly head, even if you’ve been keeping your head buried in the ground.

I love my family. I love them even when we argue about football and politics and relationships and cake. I still cherish them every day. Even when they are making my damn eyes bleed from frustration.

And every once in a while, I really want to see who’s paying attention. I wonder about posting big, crazy, false announcements and seeing who responds. You know, something like being pregnant or moving to Bora Bora or getting arrested for smuggling lace undies into berka-wearing countries.

It’s something to think about.

The job has been quite a transition. I was working for a woman who was much more a friend than a boss, and it turns out all the stuff they tell you about that being a bad idea is actually pretty on the money. I loved that job and a big part of why was working for her. I almost turned down a huge promotion with a big pay raise because of my relationship with her. There were other reasons, but if I’m being really honest, that was the biggest one. Made the transition and she hardly spoke to me for three weeks. She was cordial, but I could tell she was hurt that I moved.

So here I went from working for a friend to having people work for me. One temp, one remote, and one brand new employee were all sitting with baited breath, just waiting for me to give them something to do. I feel like I’m ok with the managerial stuff, but it’s all pretty new. I just don’t want to screw things up too badly.

So that’s my big change for now. Fingers crossed that it doesn’t kill me.

It’s a little fancy for me. It’s a lot darker than I normally wear. But I have to say, I’m feeling kind of sexy this Saturday morning. Not a bad deal, all things considered.

First of all, every single person I invited, save one, canceled. Everyone had reasons that they couldn’t come. Some told me early and some told me the night before and some the day of, but every person canceled. My sister came, which was lovely. And she brought a friend, which helped. But not one other person could be troubled to attend. Irving watched with me for most of the show. He slipped out to catch the last period of the NBA finals, but was back before the finale. This is why I love him.

But that did leave me with an awful lot of food. I’d planned to cook for nearly a dozen people and we ended up with three and a half. That hurt. I have attended many events in the last few years and I try really hard to respect the things that my friends and family enjoy. And at work I’m often extending ignored invitations from people who claim they want to see me outside the office.

Despite Irving’s insistence to the contrary, I couldn’t help but take it personally. I mean really? Every one? It was a little harder to enjoy with that thought in the back of my mind.

Tomorrow I’ll go to work and I know that at least one person will ask how it was. Do I say that it was a great, but lonely show or do I just act like it’s not a big deal? This is a tough one for me because it’s really the only thing this month I’ve had to look forward to. I wanted a victory, you know? Because it’s felt like a while since I’ve had a win of any kind, I was putting a lot on this evening. As I do every year, I wanted it to be the thing that buoys me until next summer. From the perspective of the show itself, it absolutely delivered. For the rest of it, I guess I just need to be happy with the fact that my food was still pretty awesome.

The thing I love about the Tonys, though, is that while it certainly creates a little extra crazy it also heals me a little bit. We all have problems day to day and sometimes they can seem insurmountable. But one night a year, for about four hours, I block out everything else and I’m completely immersed in all things Broadway. The good, the bad, and the ugly. (Yeah, I’m talking to you, Turn Off the Dark.)

In that time I see the fruition of childhood dreams as people perform on stage at the highest possible level of their craft. They thank God and their partners and their children and their parents and they do it with an astounding stage presence. It may be the fact that they have so much more practice with live audiences, but the acceptance speeches are so much more powerful and moving for me than any other award show all year.

You’ll see the true legends of the stage and the new movers and shakers who are redefining what it means to be a Broadway star. Sutton Foster and Angela Lansbury and Raul Esparza and Brian Stokes Mitchell all converge in one place. It’s as though it’s a unique universe of theater awesome.

But my favorite part? The reason I can sleep the night before and the reason I cry every year? The things that make me shiver and catch my breath in my throat? The numbers.

I live in Colorado, which is a wonderful place with an emerging theater community and traveling shows. However, Colorado is not New York City. Out of the year, 364 days I am perfectly content to be here with my mountains out the window, but one day a year I just want to lose myself in the music of that world. I can see many shows here, but there are many more than will never cross into my yard. On Tony Day, I can get a little taste of them and feel like I’m part of that. I can be in the audience and feel the power of the performance.

I know that sometimes things don’t translate as well from the stage to the screen. Several people mocked last year’s Tony winner Catherine Zeta Jones for her intense version of Send in the Clowns. Sure, if you watch it on tv it seems a little much. If you take a moment and put yourself in a theater, it’s perfect. And for this one night, I get to be in that theater.

I know I get crazy. I know I get weird about noise and food and whatnot, but try to put up with me until the broadcast is over. Then we’ll get back to your regularly scheduled life.

Tuesday I had some extra time in the morning and decided that I’d try it again, curling my hair with one hand while I brushed my teeth with the other.

Wednesday I woke up with a nasty case of bed head and realized that curling my hair was the only way to look like I hadn’t just been electrocuted.

Thursday I curled my hair because on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday I received compliments on how nice I look with curled hair.