The Death of the Bear

Ladies and Gentlemen, The Yeomen of the Guard closes today. Barring strike, at the end of Act II I will be crying tears of joy, rather than tears of sadness. It was a good show, it has good music, and it had a great cast. But to quote a stage direction in Shakespeare’s The Winter’s Tale, it is now the appropriate time to “Exit, pursued by a bear.”

I look forward to a future relationship with the Gilbert & Sullivan Society of Austin, and my butt will be firmly planted in the audience, enjoying the work that others are doing.

I’ve made some great friends. I hope to be able to figure out a way to keep in touch with Russel and Art, neither of whom are on Facebook. I’m thrilled that Robert, Derek, Rebecca, Janette and several others have Facebook pages so that I can keep in touch with them. I’m excited that Rebecca (and potentially Derek) may have some delightful affiliation with Acoustalyn in the near future, but that’s a story for another day.

I learned a lot from this production. And that’s all I have to say about that. I know only that, as the final act curtain goes down, the Bear is dead.

Thunderstorms and Dancing in the Rain

I met this quote today. It spoke to me. And it's particularly appropriate in my life right now.


"Life is not about waiting for the storm to pass. It's about learning to dance in the rain."

The Perils of Being an Only Child

I was raised an only child. I never had brothers or sisters to play with, and I didn’t live on a block with a lot of kids. The result? I’m just not good with people. I’m not saying that all only children have social problems. But I definitely do.

The fact is, I don’t like dealing with people. I am comfortable with people who have an obvious rank above or below me. In other words, someone who is my elder, or someone to whom I am an elder. I am very comfortable with any one person or small group of people that truly interests me. But small talk to me is just a horrid waste of time. There are so many intelligent things in the world to discuss and ponder, and if someone doesn’t want to do that with me, then I generally don’t have any reason to plug-in and “connect.”

So that’s what I’m learning is one of my displeasures with Yeomen. I’m full of a cast of opera women who want to chit-chat about cute bras and undies from Victoria’s Secret, and then what kind of makeup they’re using. They want to talk about their boyfriends and where they bought the dress they’re wearing, and whether or not they’re going to the after-show party. I don’t understand this. There are men in this cast; they seem far away to me. Almost all are straight, which is completely out of the realm of most productions to which I’m accustomed. A whole lot of gay boys who have strong convictions seem to make me happy in general. But girls that are around my age I just don’t get along with.

There are a number of older cast members that I’m really enjoying… they’re real people, with real discussions.

I feel like I’m putting the ladies down. I’m not intending to. They’re doing what they should be doing at their age. I just don’t “get” it. That’s probably my dysfunction… they certainly are free to be themselves.

So wherein lies this problem in my psyche? And is it actually a problem, or am I just a cranky old goat?

Complainy Complainerton

So The Yeomen of the Guard opened last night, officially, with a preview Thursday night. All in all, I’ve realized that I just need a break from theatre. I really, really wish I hadn’t done this show. There are a million reasons that it should have been a great experience. The cast is delightful, the director is expeditious, although we did rehearse it to death. The technical staff is great, and the orchestra is just fine. But then I get annoyed because I miss professional theatre, not for the “professional” part of it necessarily, but more because things like equity house rules are not even thinking about being observed here. There’s music blasting in the dressing room, our call is a full hour before half-hour, and things are just bugging me because I’m under-rested and irritable.

So I need to get out of this rut of sadness; my co-worker Lauren would call me “Complainy Complainerton.” And that’s damn straight.

Curtis’ parents were just in town for a week. OH how they helped. When I have a schedule of working 7 or 8:30 am to 6pm, and then a show schedule of 6pm to midnight, that leaves little time for anything else, including sleep. They cooked and had meals ready for me as I breezed through to get them, they cleaned, they cared for my kitties and my plants, and just generally were incredibly helpful and kind. I’m so thankful for their visit. It was good to see them, if only briefly!!

My Mom and Dad arrive in town tomorrow. They are just as wonderful, and an added bonus is that since my Mom is my Mom (and I grew up in her house, getting her programming about where things “go”) she always seems to know my choices and she always seems to know where to put stuff. It must be some umbilical cord thing. Except for grape jelly, which is the subject of a legendary family story, she and I see eye to eye on most things regarding running a house. And the things we don’t see eye-to-eye on, we agree to disagree. They will be meeting my Mary Jane for the first time this visit. I don’t think they’re terribly looking forward to that, but it is not altogether unexpected of me. I’ve been prone to bringing home strange creatures since I was a little kid. Mom always thought I’d be a vet.

Updates

WOW. It’s been a long time since I’ve updated. A lot has been going on in general lately. The Cat Hospital keeps getting busier and busier. We’ve hired an extra technician on to keep up with the fact that we have a second doctor. It’s good business, but some days are overwhelming! But as time goes on we’ll find better ways to streamline and get more efficient, and before long we’ll have a bigger practice with more space.

At home, there are now 5 critter members of our family. Of course, there will always be the Divine Miss Mollywobbles. We also have Ultra-Violet the wonder Frenchie, Plymouth K. Car (a.k.a. Rocky Balboa, a.k.a. The Orange Menace) and miss Mya, the beautiful Manx kitty. The newest addition is Miss Mary Jane, a beautiful Columbian Red-Tailed Boa. Her tail is more of a brownish hue, but she’s still quite beautiful. She is 12 years old, and she’s a rescue. We spent nearly 2 weeks custom-building a cage for her that had padlocking lids, as she is big enough to be a threat to little Mollywobbles, and potentially the cats. I can’t even relay how many people asked me “what if Mary eats Mollywobbles?” Well, pardon my irritation, but Duh. If you don’t know me well enough to know that I would have made intense preparations to keep Mollywobbles safe, then you don’t know me very well at all.

The Yeomen of the Guard is nearly ready to open. It’s only a week now. It’s going to be a fantastic show. I am thankful to have been a part of it, but I learned a very important lesson through the rehearsal period of this show, and that is this. I am useless to myself and others without my requisite dose of Kim-Time. I have done community theatre throughout my life, and I enjoyed it. Then I moved to professional theatre, which took less time AND I got paid for it. Now that I’m back to community theatre, and there are 6 weeks of rehearsal, I don’t know how everyone else is doing it. My kids are suffering… Mollywobbles and Violet have been at boarding for a week already, and will be so for two more weeks. They’ll be fine there…. Taurus takes excellent care of them. But I’m guessing they miss home. I sure miss them. But I don’t even have time to feed them.