the best parts

        Okay, those of you who read this blog know about the tough parts of touring. 

         The away from Drew part. The living out of a suitcase part. The long-distance with friends and family part. The hard to find real solitude part. The away from my piano part.  

         What if I told you about the absolute best parts of my job? 

          Um, besides the obvious of getting paid to dance, sing, and act; to tell a moving story to a brand new audience every day; the honor of being part of such an iconic piece of American musical theater history.

         And last but certainly not least of this list of the obvious best parts of my job is having to work at most, 6 hours a day and at least, 3 hours a day. 

         Yeah, I know. It rocks.

         But really, one of the best parts of touring was presented to me once again. Today. All wrapped up and pretty in the guise of a canopy of blue skies which, after the grey and endless snow skies of Detroit would have been enough for me, but then it had to go and get better with an ocean. A warm ocean that this habitually cold girl could actually swim in for a good long while. 

        Perfect, right? Well somebody didn't think it was quite there yet, so the day was made even richer. I mean, really--what more do you want than a sun drenched sky and an ocean that is actually refreshing?

        Um. Friends.

 

         Laughingrunningswimmingteasingfrisbeeingsnackingtruebluefriends.  

         It was so so good. And don't you worry, me and Kevin were prepared. We aren't dummies when it comes to sharks. We kept a constant and vigilant look-out and were always trying to make sure somebody was acting as our sharkbait.

        Oh, and we threw in a new twist this time. We stuck twenties in our bathing suits thinking to pay the shark off not to eat us if it came to that. Hey. We're all in this recession.  Even the sharks. And they say money is a universal language, so...

       Okay. Maybe we didn't actually swim with the twenties. Maybe we did stick them in our bathing suits, but really just for our walk to the boardwalk in case we saw a snack or something we wanted to buy. Cause hey. We're all in this recession. You think we'd throw away twenties to the ocean? 

        But we did talk about how Kevin's twenty had a big red stain on it that we called blood and how much more appetizing that twenty was to our would be attacking shark. You know, if it came to that.  

       Right, but we were certainly vigilant in our goal, which was not to be eaten by a shark. 

       So, check.

      Oh, we also saw this humongous horse shoe crab skittering along the bottom of the ocean. And this one wasn't dead, which you may have gathered by the fact that it was skittering.  But for some reason, I think almost every horse crab I have seen has been washed up on shore, decidedly dead.  Sure, we do have fun grabbing it by its tail and trailing it along the shore, making it look like it's alive, a la Weekend at Bernie's, but almost any animal is way better alive than dead.  Or at least more exciting. 

      The thought just occurred to me that the whole making a dead horse shoe crab seem alive might be weird. Oh well, not too worried about it, actually. 

      We also played Frisbee in the water which was so fun. I always think I am going to be better than I actually am at throwing the darned thing. I guess because I am married to such a Frisbee champ I just assume that all that talent has had to have rubbed off on me in the last three years. But no, still not great at throwing it. Still anyone's guess as to where it will land when it flies from my hand.  

    Guess it's time for another lesson, Drew.  

    So yeah, these are the days that make me happy to be here. Seeing the beautiful parts of the world and getting paid to do something I love at the same time. Though I miss so many with a constancy that ranges from a dull surround-sound type of ache to a sharp, take-my-breath-away pain that causes me to again doubt the decision Drew and I made for me to walk through this open door, this is my life.

    That bears repeating, I think. 

    This. Is. My. Life. 

   Right now. This day, the next--they are gifts, not simply a prerequisite to be endured before I really jump in. I don't want to waste it wishing I was somewhere else, or even with someone else (though that one may just be impossible to keep all the time).  What is that saying again?

     

   Let not our longing for tomorrow slay our living for today.  

    Yeah. That sounds about right.