around the table

     Tonight, we had an almost 4th of July Party at our house.  We were forced to have it now because we have a job in which a holiday is, for the most part, not sacred.  So, all the rest of the world will be eating hot dogs and glorying in the fact that our colonial ancestors had the chutzpah to stand up to those red coats and turn the Boston harbor into a great big vat of tea, while we are once again relearning the opening jazz combination for A Chorus Line with our choreographer, who will have just returned from New York.  Yep, you heard right: we will relearn the combination that we have been doing for three months.  We all know it in our sleep, could recite it before you can say your name, and could probably teach it to a monkey--but, we will relearn it.  Again.  That's what we did a few hours before opening night here in L.A., and I am pretty sure that is what we will be doing on the 4th of July.  So, watch a few fireworks for me, will you?  Oh, but have I mentioned that I love my job?  Because I do.

    So, we had this party.  Jason attended, which was very nice--and he gets along famously with some of my friends, Emily, Gabby, and Ian.  My theater friends are a little crazy (good crazy, though), this is true, but Jase is good at blending in.  I told him there was a theme of red, white, and blue (theater people seem to love themes, for some reason), but his response was simply: I don't do themes.  Well, gee--I guess when you get accepted at UCLA for screenwriting you just become too cool for school...;-)

   Anyway, about nine of us stayed late.  We were sitting in a semi-circle around the kitchen table with a candle burning between us (sounds creepy-religious, but I can assure you it was not).  The conversation was free and easy with a lot of laughter to express what words sometimes cannot.  It was one of those nights that just happen and seems so perfect and you realize anew that you are apart of something far bigger than yourself.  I mean, I couldn't have planned this.  I guess I could have called up some people in the cast and been like, Hey, can you come over and stay really late and we will talk and burn a candle and these jokes will be made and these memories recited and we will feel that much closer by the end of the night?  But no, something this special cannot be anticipated, I think.  

  The feeling of it was just so right.  I was looking around at all these very different people connecting at this moment in time, and I felt so full, so blessed.  Maybe it was that the moment wasn't about one person in particular, but rather the blend of so many in the room.  Maybe it was the fact that I could look around the room and honestly feel like I wanted the best for each person I saw; I could honestly say I liked each of them--and not just in a generic I-love-you-because-some-catechism-class-told-me-I-should way, but in a real way.  In a I-have-gotten-to-know-each-of-you-and-I-really-truly-like-you kind of way.  There's comfort in that, I think.  There's a relief in knowing that God has not forgotten how to make people--and wow, is He good at it.  

  Or maybe it was the champagne.  I am kidding--I had like, two sips.  But really, tonight was nice.  And it's good to remember that I can love people.  Even when they aren't exactly like me.  

  Oh, and if you want a glimpse of the truly terrifying creature that Jase and I faced-down at Solstice Canyon (I think that is where we were, anyway) today, you can go to his blog at thelookmachine.com.