opening weekend

Some thoughts, some observations:



- I love the way the dust motes catch in the orb of the spotlight. Glittering, moths suspended, slowing moving through dim light.
- The curse of the second night occurred, but nothing horrifying. A song fumbled, a mic trailing, a few sour notes, and ad lib to make up for many awkward moments.


- More laughter on the second night. No standing ovation, but the crowds were small and the musical is unknown. My co-director, angry and desperate to make our goal amount, to bring in stronger audiences. A phone book paged through at intermission, a list of places the students will have to drop posters off at, and a plan for staff to wear costumes to promote next weekend, hoping the sweat will dry and Febreeze can cover up odors.


- Anger is dealt with in such an array of ways... pens and doors can be flung, anger can simmer and explode at frightening moments, we can shout, briefly, at the top of our lungs, our hearts can feel bursting. We can let each other know the disappointment we inspire, or we can keep quiet and hope it will dissipate.


- My favorites are the moments of imperfection, of new humor--the balloon barbell that bends as air leaks out, our most troublesome prop; the prince whacking his head on the wrought iron detail, crying out "Ouch!", still completely in character, and his funny laughed out, "Sorry," to the queen who is our ad libbing champion; the new items pulled from the mattress each night, a surprise for both the audience and the cast, my suggestion at pulling out the mascot's head at the next performance, and the other clever items of tricycle, circus spool, watermelon.

(click on this top one to enlarge--interesting detail)

And the relaxing parts:
- Trees are catching up with the ground: there are buds unfurling in the early morning light, trees in blossom and leaves brightening the landscape.
- Yesterday: a long walk with two dogs, leashes often tangled, Zephyr frequently bobbing around behind me, getting me tangled, and an attempt at downtown twice, but the crowds were too much.


- This afternoon: seed packets, small soil disks, and a plot for the garden. Thatching the dog spots in the yard, reseeding, pulling up dandelion patches and hoping crabgrass will not take over again. Concern about our yard, for the sake of the wedding, and for the guests that will have one chance to see our house as they may not return for another visit.
- Being able to curl up with K at night, the comfort of our bed drawing us into the folds of one another. Knowing I can sleep in the next morning.


- The dogs not allowing that to happen. Naps after. The dogs reminding us that if we do want children in the near future, we must be prepared to sacrifice many things, precious sleep included. They have a routine now, Zephyr anyway, and not long after five o'clock, the sun begins to come out, and this is when he is used to his first morning marking. We take turns sending them out, playing with them, falling back to sleep on sofa, in bed. The dogs, angry at the neglect on Friday, thrilled at the new attention to make up for it on Saturday and Sunday.
- K's Sunday phone call from home always brings new stories, laughter, a strong bond at home. My own family works so much differently. I admire both and hope all the good bits come out in the family we are making.
- The sound of jazzy guitar coming from the stereo, the windows wide open, our own dust motes swirling, fresh air.