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- Melanie
Thursday night: got to the theater fifteen minutes before call. Somewhere along the way, I developed a raging case of the PMS. There I was, early enough to get everything done that I had to, and suddenly walls were being thrown up at every turn. Our laundry had been done, but left in the dryer to wrinkle. Now, some wrinkles are negligible. These were not. And, unfortunately, I'm playing a character who has quite the bit of �ber-Stepford Wife about her, and (not to go all Stanislavski on y'all, but...) she would never be seen in wrinkled clothes.
Fill up the iron. Iron doesn't work. Throw clothes in the dryer, which is stuffed with the second batch of soon-to-be-wrinkly clothes. That's not going to help. Ooh, someone found a working outlet in which to plug the iron! Now, why didn't I think of that? Okay, fine, I'll try and iron after I finish my makeup. Gee, I'd really like to go to the bathroom before warm-up. That ain't happenin'. Warm up. Fight call. Mic check. Why is my mic making weird noises? My mic never makes weird noises. Oh, that's right, we're being videotaped tonight, so Murphy's Law dictates that whatever can go wrong technically, will. I walk around onstage, singing distractedly, for twenty-five minutes while they try to figure out what's wrong. I have base and false eyelashes on. Nothing else. My hair still needs to be put up. I need to get dressed in my wrinkled costume. And I still need to go to the bathroom! Finally I am dismissed at 7:40, with a different mic. Lori Anne comes by and, thank G-d, simply asks what I need ironed. Being a mom, she knows just what to do. Ask me what I still need to do, or how long I'll need to get ready, and I will have to think too much and my brain will explode. I get my proverbial act together. I am ready by curtain. But I'm unnerved, and I feel like I "phone in" the entire show. I went through three mics. A friend who was there (and to whom I gave my last comp ticket) hasn't even emailed me to discuss the show. Boy, liked it that much, eh?
And as I was driving home, I saw some sort of major accident on the Distressway. Shadow Traffic said one of the cars had flipped, but I honestly couldn't tell by looking at what was left of the front end whether it was upside-down or not. There must have been at least fifteen police, fire and rescue vehicles there.
This after the email discussion with R. about not worrying over things that haven't happened yet, and considering that as I drove along in the light rain. Yeah, anything can happen. A car could lose control, and skid right into me. Or I could do it to someone else. Do I think about such things? Yes, for a second. And then I let it go. Because if I didn't, I'd hide under the bed and never leave the house. (Not suggesting that's what you do, R.)
Oh, and about all the worrying my folks were doing about my brother's health? The preliminary diagnosis is...a pinched nerve. ::rolls eyes, but behind her parents' backs so they won't accuse her of being unfeeling:: Oy.
Friday: a lovely lunch with The Fabulous (mussels, and enough marinara to drown the bread in) and a much better show (of course, on the night they were supposed to have taped).
Saturday: a trip to the city to see my friend Tom's one-man Scottish Play, and to see him for the first time in at least ten years. He was wonderful. And we got to talk a bit afterward, and I realized how much I've missed him. Had a slice of pizza in Penn, got on the train, prayed that there would be no delays (my train was getting in at 6:12 and I had a thirty mile drive to get to the theater by 7:00), made it there safely and right on time, and had another good show. And went to Chili's after. They have these newish things - Boneless Shanghai Wings with a wasabi-ranch sauce...oh, yum. If you can get over the sauce looking like a Martha Stewart paint color.
Sunday: From an abortive attempt at an entry -
"It is eighty-one degrees. It is eighty-one percent humidity. I am liquifying, and feeling a serious crank coming on.Hair, do not touch the back of my sweaty neck or I will tear you out strand by strand. Clothing, do not touch my sweaty skin or I will scream. I am sticking to everything. I want to turn the a/c up to 11 and lie on my bed without moving a muscle. For that is the only way I will be cool.
Can I do this? No. I have two loads of laundry in. I have a shitload of catalogs I need to purge. The house is a mess. I have a show tonight. I don't want to turn on the a/c until I absolutely have to, so as not to run up our electric bill.
It's not the heat, it's the humanity. Argh."
But I did manage to have another good show, after cooling and cleaning off. We had a Q & A with the acting class students afterward. They were very cute. And it's like being in school again, because Jeff always knows the questions to direct at me. Not that I don't like to talk about myself (what actor doesn't?), but I like to hear other's opinions before chiming in with my own.
Monday: a belated birthday dinner for The Huz's fortieth. We had a gift certificate for Rothmann�s. Took my parents there for their fortieth anniversary a couple of years ago. Oh, beef. Beefbeefbeefbeefbeef. Filet mignon bigger than my fist. Jumbo shrimp. Mashed potatoes so creamy you can hear your arteries hardening. Key Lime pie. And a lovely Moscato to top it off. I'm all about the dessert wine.
And the leftovers were just as good yesterday. Of course, between that and the car repairs, it'll be some time before we're solvent again.
Ah, well. I'm picking up the car after work, and then it's home to launder. Huz has a show tonight, so maybe I'll be good and get some organizing accomplished.
And there you have it. Nothing to see here, move along.
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