audience...participation.

    Tonight was an interesting show.  During the opening we started to hear some unusual noises emitting from the audience. We looked at each other in puzzlement, trying to figure out the cause.

    It sounded like cries. Or moans.

     In between groups of 4 doing the jazz combination we whispered to each other, Maybe somebody should take their baby out of the theater...Or...Is there a baby pterodactyl in the house? Or even, People should practice their...uh, intimate moments somewhere else.  

    I mean, that's not exactly a controversial statement, right?

    Finally, once we were in place on the line, I was able to get a good look at where the intermittent moans were coming from: a teenage boy with special needs sitting in the third row between what looked to be a mother and a grandmother.  

   And my heart went out to him.  Each time his moaning started his next-of-kin would get to work shushing him. He would stop, but then something would set him off again in a few moments.  The thing was, I could see the other patrons around him--people who had spent $100 a ticket to watch the show, presumably without distraction--and they were getting annoyed, maybe even irate, though they held their tongues. 

   And well, my heart when out to them, too--albeit, not in the same way.

   I was discussing this with other people in the cast, and it was hard to come up with a solution, exactly. I mean, this young man has special needs, yes, but it's sad to think that he is not free to watch live theater like everyone else. Maybe he is autistic and, though unique, could still perfectly understand the theme of the show and it changed him for the better, encouraged him to paint, draw, write, etc. 

  Conversely, it was not very sensitive to the other audience members--let alone, the live actors--to have to try to shut out the moans while absorbing the play.  There is nothing like loud moaning from an audience that according to our show, isn't supposed to be there in the first place, to disrupt the suspension of disbelief that one hopes every audience member adheres to.  

   Anyway, bless that young man's heart. Hopefully he was encouraged by the show. And bless the audience members around him who were patient and overlooked the distractions (I hope anyway). Or at least, who didn't say anything--though they sure shot some looks, believe you me. But from their perspective, can you blame them?

  What are your thoughts? I'd be interested to know.

train of thoughts

  I present to you, the cast of A Chorus Line (well, some of us, anyway) singing at the annual lighting of the monument ceremony in Baltimore tonight...

  We had gotten a memo from stage management the night before to dress in all black and that our classy ACL ball caps would be provided for us.  Well, as you can see, only a few of us took that memo to heart; I not only did not wear black, I took it a step further and wore my purple jeans for the occasion.  Whatever, at least we had the uniform hats, right?

 

  And we were on the news and everything! Though I didn't get to see it because I was at physical therapy. However, I did hear it and we sounded fierce. 

   Looking at the picture, I can't help but notice that my hand looks unbelievably white, like it could belong to a corpse. I don't mind so much, though, because I have been reading the Twilight Series like it's my job and now that I know some vampires are of the good vegetarian order, then it's actually kind of cool. Cause you know, you could do way worse than looking like a Cullen (and if you don't know what I mean, then you need to read the book!).

   Oh, so I hate my new show shoes. They hurt terribly and my feet feel like sausages inside them.  Seriously, they feel too small.  And I blame them for dropping my cue tonight.   

   It was the end of the show, and I only have one line-it's 3 sentences, to be specific, but it's really only one line. Anyway, tonight I was very distracted by how much my shoes hurt. And then I started thinking of how much my right foot, specifically, was hurting inside that stupid shoe (my exact thought was somewhere along the lines of OUCH I believe). Somehow this led to me thinking about the Boysetsfire song, The Misery Index, which is an awesome song but has very little to do with ACL.  Anyway, I was lost in these thoughts when all of the sudden I notice a lull in the conversation around me. I look up an find the entire cast staring at me, waiting for me to say my one line (really three sentences, but you know what I mean).  I jump into it and feel like a little idiot, quite deservedly, because I should have been paying attention.  

  I burn with embarrassment under the teasing gazes of most of the cast--at least the ones who could tell that I had checked out. Some, believe it or not, said they had no idea and hopefully the audience fell into that category as well.  My friend Jay actually started laughing out loud cause he knew where I was and it was anywhere but there.  

  But like I said, that's what I get for not paying attention while I am on stage in front of thousands of people.  

musings

    I have to say, Baltimore has been so kind.  Their response to ACL has been amazing--they are laughing at all the right places, wonderfully responsive to every number, and so present.  It does the heart good.  And tonight, they gave us a standing ovation, which was again, just so kind.  

     What is not totally awesome about Baltimore is how quickly their two-way streets just bam! turn into one-way streets. I mean, really, you gotta give a girl some notice.  Unfortunately, the notice I did see loud and clear was in the form of a car with it's beams pointed straight at me...I quickly moved over to the correct side of the street...And promptly got lost.  

    But really, the getting lost part cannot be blamed on Baltimore.  It can only be blamed entirely on me.  See, as I have mentioned before here, I have no natural sense of direction. None. If I were a bird, I would probably end up in Alaska for the winter, and wonder why none of my bird friends showed up for my Christmas party.  Luckily, I am not a bird, and therefore have a sentient mind that is able to be directed by the all-knowing GPS.  

   But I didn't have it last night--thus, I got lost in Baltimore.  I did call my friend Jason (who had lived in Baltimore), and he along with his lovely and helpful wife Susan, was able to talk me out of my wanderings and set me straight again.  So a huge thanks for that, guys!

   I was interviewed via phone by the News Journal today.  As luck would have it, my brother happened to be in the car with me when I was answering questions and the interviewer, Betty, I think, asked if that was my husband. No, I said, I am with my brother. I guess that was just as good because she asked if she could speak with him and I immediately handed over the phone to my very surprised and somewhat nonplussed brother, Jonathan.  

   I just gave him a beatific smile. 

    They talked all about me, which makes sense considering the whole interview was because I was in ACL. He happily informed Betty of how when we were growing up, nobody in the family could get me to stop dancing and singing--in grocery stores, sidewalks, even while listening to teachings during church I would be pointing my feet as hard as I could.  He did a great job, and was very sweet about me. We both thought it was funny that he was forced into the interview, though.

   Oh yeah, and towards the end Betty asked me if Drew and I had any pets. Yes, I said, Two cats. She went on to ask their names, so I obliged, but all the while I was thinking, This is news?! I mean, not that I mind--after reading my last post, I am sure you can see that it takes almost nothing to get me talking about my cats--but still, people want to read about that?  

   I got to see my dear friend Laura tonight.  She's all beautiful and happily newly married and it absolutely shows, which makes me so glad...And now in an effort to be somewhat normal (no jokes how for me, that may prove to be impossible, please), I will go to bed so that I can actually see the morning tomorrow.  

  And maybe even take a pilates class. Maybe.   

taliesin & persephone

     

   The black cat is named Persephone.  Percy, for short, and she is small and sweet and dainty and it is a very rare and special occasion when she hops up on your lap, politely crosses her paws, and lays her head down.  

 

     But you have to be sure not to make too big a deal of it, or else she might just decide to hop down just as stealthily as she hopped up.  She had a little photo shoot with Drew today and this was my favorite.  The little kitty is so very dark, that most pictures turn out with her features very difficult to decipher, but this one shows her pretty little blue-black face just perfectly.  

   Something that is so endearing about Percy: whenever one of us gets home, she trots a few steps in front of us then promptly flops on the ground, rolls over, and exposes her round little tummy for a good scratch.  

    And yeah, it's hard to say no to her when she does that.

   The picture to the right is a glimpse of a nap we had today.  It started out with Drew laying down, then I laid down on him, and then Taliesin, our huge orange tabby (Tally, for short), decided it would be a really good idea to climb onto my back and lay down.  You can sort of see all three of our heads.  Anyway, it was really funny.  It also felt really nice when Tally would knead his paws in my back, like a miniature massage, or something.

  And I threw in another, clearer shot of Tally, who is so different from Percy, that it is hard to believe they are brother and sister.  He is large and clumsily affectionate.  As soon as you are still and prone for a moment, he lumbers onto your chest and immediately begins to head butt your face until you pet him.

   And it usually doesn't take more than one or two head butts before Drew or I acquiesce.  

   His purr is as loud as a jackhammer and we wonder if the neighbors debate whether or not we have some construction project going on in our house on a regular basis.  He especially seems to love Drew, and snuggles with him quite often. Drew says this is because Tally prefers a larger surface, but I think that Drew is just trying to make me feel better because Tally continually chooses him over me.  Honestly, it doesn't make me sad--I think it's really cute and I am glad Tally loves Drew so much; I do too, so I can't really blame him.

   Have I mentioned how nice it is to be home?  And our two cats just make it that much better.

     

home again.

I am home.

It's a little surreal to drive through the same neighborhoods, stop at the same traffic lights, and pull up to our sweet little house all connected in a tidy row with the other houses in the neighborhood; only ours stands out entirely because it is well, ours.  

It's very nice to know that no matter how far away I get from here, it remains.  My home--along with all my family and friends and the house-at-the-end-of-the-dirt-road that I grew up in--seems to stay remarkably still against the irrevocable onslaught of time, remaining cloistered away from the rush of all of the downtowns of which I have lately been an inhabitant, remaining cloistered away in my heart.   

For me, home has a beautiful comforting sameness to it that I love, that I rely on.

This is especially true when the mess that I left in my quick dash of a 48 hour visit of two months ago is still here. Still on my unspoken side of the room, next to my spoken-for side of the bed. The side that, apparently, our two cats claim for themselves when I am not here, as evidenced when I tried to stretch my legs out this morning and immediately found myself stopped short by lots of fur and a couple of sharp little claws in the mix.  And oh yeah, a meow or two in protest.  

 I will say Drew did a darn good job of cleaning the kitchen. I will also say that the newest addition to our kitchen--a gift from Drew's recently returned from Australia brother, Kris, which happens to be an appliance in the form of a can opener with a handle fashioned out of kangaroo testicles (I am not kidding, but I really wish I was, believe me)--well let's just say that it will not be remaining in the very visible place that Drew has chosen for it for too much longer.  Not on my watch.  

  Anyway. I am home for a good, no a wonderful six weeks while I commute to work in Baltimore for these next two weeks, Philly for the three weeks after that, and then a glorious week of vacation, though I am not quite sure where I will be for that week. I can tell you I will not be working and I will be with Drew...;-)

So yes, life is very very good. I cannot wait to spend time with all the people I love here.

benefit show pics

Just thought I would post some pics from the benefit show this past Monday night.

These were taken by the awesome Dave Vick.

Not a whole lot going on tonight other than the crushing disappointment of finding out my flight home was cancelled tonight. 

So yeah, I am still in the lovely Toronto. Still missing home.  But I am catching a flight early tomorrow morning...Hopefully the weather is agreeable.  

I am not a rock star (not yet, anyway), and I really love christmas

    I don't have a ton of things to say. 

 

    I mean, I could talk about the fact that I had 2 shows today and stayed up until the very rock star hour of 5 am talking to none other than my dear friend Jay.  I could also mention that I was not a rock star today, but instead was a musical theater performer, and therefore acting like a rock star the night before did nothing to help me and everything to leave me utterly and completely exhausted today.  Cause you know what? I am really an 8-10 hour of sleep a night kind of girl; when I get about five, the day feels longer. Or maybe I am just slower.  Ugh.  

  Or I could talk about how lately I have become rather obsessed with Chipotle. They serve these delicious fajita burritos in the warmest and softest tortillas that I have ever had the pleasure of encountering.  Plus, I have really become adventurous in my eating; I mean, I still pick out the onions when I can, but every once in a while they bypass my careful examination and I end up eating one and to my extreme shock the world doesn't end nor do they jump start my gag reflex into action and generally I am okay. Probably even healthier because of it.  So, I am not going to do anything crazy like eat an onion on purpose or anything, but I will say if one happens to go down the hatch, than I guess that's sort of okay.  But just sort of.  

  I could also mention that I have been playing an assortment of Christmas music and I love it, love it, love it.  It paints such a vivid picture of the whole heart of this celebration; of the pointed and powerful thoughts that God has towards us; that knowing that His thoughts are indeed good and helpful and perfect makes life bearable, even wonderful.  I mean, when the angels whispered the secret of heaven to those long ago shepherds, thereby letting us all know once and for all that God had this plan that was motivated by nothing but peace and goodwill towards man--well, the whole universe breathed a collective sigh of relief, because if God wanted that for us, then well, that's what was gonna happen.  

  It's beautiful, isn't it? Simple. But revelatory of an urgent love from a God who is more powerful than a nuclear bomb, bigger than every galaxy, smarter than any Einstein or Da Vinci, but then lays that power aside and becomes small, helpless, even, as he takes the form of a baby born to a simple woman and laying in a crude manger.  What a breathtaking paradox. He's not just God from afar, God who doesn't understand our meager struggles and pathetic attempts at living right; he is now God with us. Infinitesimally Emmanuel. Human, and therefore subject to our conflicts, compatible to our emotions and desires.  

  And yet he chose the right way where we would choose the wrong.  He loves. Always. He's perfect, always.  And that is why he can take all our wrongness, our weakness, the ugly parts about us, the confusing parts about us and make us right. Make sense of us. Make us clean, loving, good.  

 And it all started with God's idea of peace and goodwill towards us. And then this tiny little baby, this Son of God, who grew up and literally took on the world and fixed it.  Fixed me.  

I love Christmas and all the poetry of the story behind it. I love what it means for me.  

So, I guess I found something to say after all.