Grump/Chocolate Guilt

Let’s see – we don’t have costumes for the second act yet, I lost my skirt in the middle of a song, I ripped up another skirt, broke a globe, forgot my prop glasses, hit all the wrong notes in most of the songs, and couldn’t remember any of the choreography.

AND I forgot the Advil.  Not a good night.

To top it off, today is Moo’s birthday.  Moo is turning two and I can hardly even keep my eyes open, much less celebrate her the way she deserves.  Instead, I’m dragging her to a promo for the show during the day, and I won’t even see her at night.

Yes, yes, she has a robot party to look forward to.  But I want to feed her cupcakes and sprinkle confetti over her head all day long.

Since I can’t do that, I’m letting her have chocolate for breakfast.

Happy Birthday Moo!

Two Rehearsals To Go

Last Night’s Lessons:

1.  Last night was our first night with lights, and it hit me for the first time what a dramatic switch this is from “Kiss Me Kate,” for me personally.  In Kiss Me Kate, I was in the background, happily doing my thing and happily watching others in the spotlight.  This time, the spotlight is literally on me.  At first, it freaked me out a little, but then - ohhhhhh I basked.

2.  Wireless mics = I don’t have to sing loudly!  I’m so used to trying to belt as loudly as I can, I don’t know if I’ll be able to adjust for the mics.  Luckily, Genius Sound Man Tom will adjust me accordingly.  Still haven’t been brave enough to go to the bathroom while wearing the mic pack yet…

3.  It is impossible for me to have any kind of expression on my face whatsoever during the two harmony monsters, “Cabaret” and “There Goes the Ballgame.”

4.  Also, I don’t know what the heck kind of expression to have on my face while holding this pink ukelele during “Me and My Baby.”  (Get it?  It’s not a baby, it’s a ukelele!  Get it?  Get it?  Me neither.)  So do I go with daffy amusement?  Utter befuddlement?  Paranoid psychosis?  Do I really believe this is a baby I’m holding, or am I just being ironic?

5.  I am really blind and very likely to fall over repeatedly in the dark wings of the stage. Why do I not wear contacts?!  Oh yes, because they are stupid and annoying and I hate them.

6.  Don’t hold that note too long!

7.  Don’t slow down during that verse!

8.  Do NOT start on the left foot!

9.  Wait for everyone else before you stride on stage and start singing!

10.  ALWAYS BRING ADVIL.

Tech Week, Day 1

Tech week, that glorious stretch of frantic freak-outs leading up to opening night, began yesterday.  It was our first rehearsal on the stage – the first time we got to see the theatre and stage where we’ll be performing (and roller-skating).  I got there early, trying to look my very best as a personal favor to Mary, who called and requested that I wear something nice, comb my hair and put on some lipstick, so that the costume designer might be convinced that I am not, in fact, a 12-year-old girl.  So I wore my highest heels and ruffly sexy tank top and blotted on some lipstick, and Mary gave me a wink that I think meant she appreciated the transformation.

Then we tried on costumes for the first act (love my sexy-back magenta leotard) and played around with some hats and props, before beginning the terribly slow slog through each number, re-blocking and getting used to the new space.

We’re all getting a bit twitchy.  We want to just get on with it, get this show up and going, while at the same time we’re desperate for more rehearsal time.  Mary is terribly worried about one of us getting hurt in the roller-skating number, and as a result I am relegated to the bench for part of the number, and I don’t know whether to feel disappointed or relieved.  We still haven’t staged the finale, but at least I’ve learned the German I have to sing in that number (I mean, I’m probably butchering it, but only my brother- and sister-in-law will know!).  I’d love to rehearse “All That Jazz” about a million more times, but at least now there’s an actual piano (as opposed to a keyboard) for Ricky to lift me up onto, and now I’m consumed by the desire to drape myself across it a la Michelle Pfeiffer in the Fabulous Baker Boys, but I don’t think that’s what Mary had in mind.

Mama, to Ricky:  “Have you ever lifted a girl up onto a piano before?”

Ricky:  “Well, not onto a piano…”

Hmmmm.

Tonight:  LIGHTS!  And wireless mics, and more costume fittings, and more re-staging, re-blocking, re-choreographing and re-configuring, until hopefully, on Thursday night, it all explodes into an orgasmic delight of musical theatre.

Or something like that.

The Cast

Thought the blogoverse might like to meet my esteemed cast:

 
…As rendered by Annoyingly Over-Talented Cast Member Ricky (Is it not enough that he can sing like, ohh someone please name a famous opera singer, and has a face like Gumby, if Gumby were really attractive?).

From left to right, that’s Ricky, Julie, Blaze, me, and Duckie.

Duckie really doesn’t look anything like Jon Cryer in this particular artistic interpretation, and so, henceforth (and just to be really confusing) he shall be known as Norm.

Thursday Rehearsal Stats

Sparkly Finale Jacket: Itchy

Strappy 3-inch Stilletos:  Sayonara!

Mama’s New Haircut:  Everyone seemed to like it, although Mary the director barely noticed.  NO WIG!  NOOOOO!

Minutes We Sat Slumped in Chairs at End of Rehearsal Because We Were Too Tired to Leave: 12

What it Looks Like Ricky is Doing to Blaze in One of the Publicity Photos:  {Censored} Heh heh.

Mary’s General Perception of Me:  That I am a tomboy?!   Maybe that’s why Moo loves snakes and robots – I’m a tomboy in denial!

The Grass is Always Greener:  On somebody’s else’s estate, on somebody else’s front lawn, where some other tenant pays rent, on someone else’s weiner…

Blaze:  Is a glorious treasure chest of accessories, and I would like to break into her house and steal away with the contents of her closet.

Cast Chat:  Mork and Mindy theme song, Robin Williams’ health, rousing sing-a-long of Love Boat theme.

How Many Garters is Blaze Making for Me?:  7 – one to throw out to the audience during every show. (Thanks, Blaze!…. trade you a garter for that awesome flower bracelet?)

Next Week at This Time:  One show down, six to go.

Herbie:  Has been asleep since 8:30 when Moo went to bed.  I have driven him to utter exhaustion (or maybe it was the Indian food he had for lunch?).

Baby Steps

Last night we ran (well, jogged) through Act I, and while I felt pretty discouraged (a little flat sometimes, can’t remember which way to sway, cannot BREATHE), Mary the director seemed quite pleased.

My silver strappy 3-inch heels arrived and I wobbled around on those for the first half of rehearsal, pitter-pattering on tip-toe through the many songs in which we run frantically around the stage.  That’s really difficult in 3-inch heels.  It’s also going to get more difficult since the costume designer wants us to wear pantyhose.  Pantyhose inside strappy heels = I am going to slip and fall on my face.  I swear, I will glue individual rhinestones on my dance shoes if that’s what it takes to get the Powers That Be to let me wear them instead of stilettos.

Now that we all have our roller skates for “The Rink,” we also practiced roller-skating together for the first time.  It’s really kind of scary, especially since I’m now deeply paranoid about potential head injuries.  The idea was for me to use my lack of skating talent by having me careen across the stage and crash in the wings – but that means I have to actually make it all the way across the stage without falling over until I get to the wings.  Fake-careening, as it turns out, is a rather advanced roller-skating skill.

This afternoon I’m getting my hair cut and colored.  I’m going blonder!  Part of me keeps scolding myself for paying so much for a style that I wouldn’t particularly choose without the influence of the director and wig-loving cotume designer, but then again I do think it’s lovely to have an excuse to make such a big change.  Or, biggish change.  We’ll see how brave I am at the salon.

Best of… Grade School

Blaze and Duckie (I think he hates his alias) and I went out for a drink a couple nights ago, and over cocktails and gooey nachos, we had a blast reminiscing about all those silly games we loved in grade school.

Do you remember Cat’s Cradle?  Do you remember Mash, that game that would predict, among other things, whether you would end up living in a mansion, apartment, shack or house, all based on how many rings someone drew in a spiral before you said stop?  Remember “cooties” (that’s what Blaze calls them), those little fortune cookie-type marvels of oragami that you would flip back and forth and unfold bit by bit, revealing your destiny?

Remember 4-square?  Remember Ladmo Bags?  Remember Dr. Demento?  Remember this?

Miiiiiss Suzy had a steamboat,
the steamboat had a bell,
Miss Suzy went to heaven,
the steamboat went to
Hell-o operator, please give me number 9,
and if you disconnect me,
I’ll kick you from
Behind the ‘frigerator,
there was a piece of glass,
Miss Suzy sat upon it,
and broke her little
Asssk me no more questions,
I’ll tell you no more lies,
The boys are in the bathroom,
Zipping up their
Flies are in the somethin’…
something somethin’ somethin’…

Anybody remember the rest?

And do you remember how every time you liked a boy, you’d scribble down “TRUE LOVE” in your notebook, and count all the t’s, r’s, u’s, e’s, etc. in his name and your name, and come up with two numbers that, put together, symbolized your chance at true love with this person.  For the record, Herbie and I scored a solid 86% (117% if you include middle names!).

And yes, I did check our percentages before we got married.  AND I live in a house, just like Mash predicted!  But surprisingly, I did not marry Ricky Schroeder and have 17 children, as promised.  Also, I do not drive a purple Porsche.

Waah wah wah

I probably shouldn’t start writing at nearly-midnight, because all I want to write about is how I am SO TIRED.  Which makes for incredibly captivating reading, of course.

I’m disappointed in myself for slacking on the blog.  My stamina is being sorely tested – as a mom, wife, and performer.   First, we are out of frozen waffles, and I’m pretty sure they can revoke my Mom membership card for that oversight.  Second, my husband spent all day mowing the lawn, repairing the roof, and then doing all the boring computer maintenance that I’m too lazy to do, and all I did tonight was lay on the couch and grumble. 

And finally - performing.  Oy, my aching bones!  This show requires vast amounts of energy – we are all on stage almost the entire show, and at this point, with rehearsals starting to feel endless, we can hardly tell our right foot from our left, much less remember if we’re supposed to bounce up and down or sway side to side.  Here’s a quick breakdown:

1) I sing a song and we all run around madly shaking bells.  At end of song, I am left for gawping for breath, hoping I don’t look like a dying fish.
2)  Ricky sings.  Whew!  A short break.
3)  Everybody else sings.  Hey, what am I complaining about?
4)  We all sing, bend our bodies into impossible positions, fall on the floor, and then dance with crutches.  Easy-peasy!
5)  Blaze and I sing about the grass being greener on somebody else’s weiner, pot roasts, and large whale sexual organs.  Or something like that.
6)  Everybody else sings again.  Short nap in the wings, perhaps?
7)  Money money money money and let’s all run around in circles with hats and oh shit do we take off our hats now?  Now?  What about now?  Yikes, ending pose, and…
8)  Zwooom rush off stage to whooosh rush back on stage and sing EVIL SONG FROM HELL, which surprisingly, every once in a while, just for a moment, is a little bit fun.  Try to paste look of ease and pleasure on my face instead of the face I make while pooping or throwing up, which would come more naturally during this song.
9)  And zwip! skitter to the wings to rrrrip! off skirts and fwoop!  fwoop! put on sparkly jackets while hoping that my ass doesn’t look huge in the green leotard and singing about how the world goes around and around and around and around and you get the idea…
10) and Bonjour!  We all sing in different languages to the tune of “New York, New York” while trying to remember whether our arms are at a 45 or 90-degree angle and how long do we hold “Yorrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrk?” and man, I really do think my ass will look blubbery in that leotard. 

The End.

And that’s just the second act!

If I wasn’t so tired, it would be so much easier to remember that this is all so gloriously FUN.

Zzzzz.

Rehearsal Stats Etc.

Days until Opening Night:  14

Songs We Haven’t Started to Stage:  3 1/2

Time We’ve Spent Practicing on Roller Skates:  5 minutes (and that’s just me)

Why Did Mary the Director go to Sports Authority Today?:  To buy her poor, non-roller-skating cast knee pads, elbow pads and wrist pads.

Is it Fun to Dance with Prop Crutches?:  No, it is not.

Is it Fun to Sing with a Back-Up Chorus of Bells?:  YES.

Current Emotional State of Cast:  Kinda Grumpy

Current Emotional State of Mama:  Frazzled with a side of Lovey-Dovey

Current Emotional State of Moo:  Zzzzzzzzz

Current Cast Afflictions:  Strep throat, bad knee, husband far away in Malaysia, bad day at work, oops I forgot to eat dinner (me).

Despite All This, Current State of Cast Love:  Still hummin.’

Mama, Why Are You Swatting at Your Face During Rehearsal?:  Because bugs are ATTACKING me!

Mama, Why Are You Starting on the Left Foot?:  Uhhhhh… because bugs are attacking me?

Tonight’s Challenge:  Wireless mics

Eat Them Pringles, Ring Them Bells

Anyone else having Pringles for lunch?  I’ve noticed that, just like the last production, I am losing a bit of weight as rehearsals intensify, but I suspect this time it has less to do with dancing and more to do with bad habits – like Pringles for lunch.

Last night I dashed around the house, trying to get myself ready for rehearsal while chatting with Moo about potential plots for her evening puppet show – Ballerina and Nutcracker Walk Around the Castle?  Frog and Duck Have a Picnic?  I barely had time to squeeze Herbie hello and babble the dinner menu over my shoulder (“Those Lebanese meat pies that Rosalind made us, mashed potatoes, and zucchini - I know, but Moo SAID she wanted zucchini!”) before dashing out the door.  It wasn’t until I pulled into the parking lot and my tummy started loudly devouring itself that I realized all I’d eaten all day was a mini-bagel and half an orange.  And here I am again, eating Pringles for lunch.  It’s actually not that different from my bachelorette days, when I survived on wheat thins and cheddar cheese.  And Diet Coke!  Oh!!!

Shoot, no Diet Coke in the house.

I need to shape up, because disease and bad knees are befalling our cast and I’ve got to stay healthy.  Ricky busted his knee (at church, he says – hmmm), and Julie has strep throat.  At least Moo’s current obsession with oranges means I’m consuming a lot of vitamin C (when she deigns to share a wedge with me).

Tonight I have the night off, and I’m looking forward to cooking dinner and sitting down with my family.  It’s been a tough week for us – I’m asking so much of Herbie, especially with all these weekend rehearsals which mean Herbie’s basically trapped in the house all weekend (since we’re a one-car/one-bike household).  And I can see Moo struggling with my constant getting-ready-to-leave status.  Every afternoon, she wakes up from her nap and scampers into the playroom, shouting, “Let’s play Show, Mommy!”  “I want to, sweetheart, but I have to get ready to go to rehearsal,” I always reply.  I suppose I should really get ready BEFORE she wakes up, but I’m wired to put things off until the last possible second.

Of course, when I am at rehearsal, I’m just a big happy musical theatre cheeseball, hamming it up and loving every second.  It’s only the saying goodbye, the long drive in between home and rehearsal, and coming home to see the remnants of evening playtime I missed that hurt quite a bit.

I’m looking forward to being Just Mommy over the summer.  But I can’t possibly see how I can give this up for good again, even when it means Pringles for lunch and missing my family.  Because even on an empty stomach, I cherish moments like Moo and I had in the car earlier, when Moo asked me what I sang at rehearsal last night.  So I sang her a verrry long song called “Ring Them Bells” (always good to teach your toddler incorrect grammar), filled with all kinds of words she doesn’t know (like Dubrovnik, matador, bronchial cough), and I expected her to cut me off at every moment.  But I sang the whole damn thing, and when I looked in the rearview mirror, her dimples were flashing and her nose was crinkling.

“Again!  Again!” she demanded.

I obliged, of course.  And… I don’t know, I kinda got this funny feeling that maybe my daughter was a little bit proud of me.

And that’s a warm and fuzzy feeling I’d like to experience again.