Republica Dominicana - Day 4

Last night, during our dinner in the "Japanese" restaurant (they did try, and the decor was nice) it rained like one expects is should in the tropics. Walls of water crashing down from the sky in opaque sheets. Legions of maids and groundsmen manning battle stations to mop floors, and clear standing water into drains. Because there are no real walls anywhere, all the tile floors become skating rinks.
We wake to a dark grey sky that seems to be trying to punch a hole in it's own cloud cover and let the sun through, but cannot. Though it is cloudy, it is still quite warm and very humid.
We spend the morning sitting in El Capitan bar, sipping cappucino and reading.
At 1:30 we are picked up for our excursion to the Marinarium where we will be snorkeling with nurse sharks and sting rays.
When we arrive at the launch point, our crew leader gives his opening speech and rules in English, Spanish, French & German. He has a devilish sparkle in his eye and a wickedly dry sense of humor.
We snorkel the reef for 30 minutes or so, our guide swimming ahead of us slightly, releasing bread down near the bottom to attract fish. We are caressed by needle fish as they swim past our masks, curious about our presence. We are surrounded by schools of jackfish, tetras in huge clouds, sergeant majors and all manner of wildly coloured fish. We see huge brain corrals, fan coral and finger coral of all size and colour. There are sea urchins, tiny to gigantic, red, black and lavender. There are also anemonies of all colours hidden in every reef pocket.
We are led to the fenced off area where the sharks and rays live. True, it is a cage, but it is a large natural habitat in the actual ocean, not a cement pool in Kentucky. I am in awe as a ray with a wing span of 12 or 15 feet swims past me. As I am paddling along, a large, very large shadow begins to swim below me. It is a nurse shark, docile, but powerful and still un-nerving.
After snorkeling we are taken to a beautiful little cove to hang out and party in the water. There is a floating bar....... a guy with a tray of drinks on a life preserver making the rounds.Though it is still grey and rainy, and we are wet and cold, we are happy and still stunned at the natural beauty of the place.
After dinner, we are asleep by 10.

Republica Dominican - tercer dia

It has rained heavily through the night.
It is still raining when I thow open our balcony, a wall of windows in our 3rd floor room which, when fully open, makes the entire wall virtually disappear.
The clouds look as though they may stay around, but we could care less.
We drink bad coffee and amazing smoothies.
We wander over to the little bar we have discoverd where they make the good coffee and indulge in cafe au lait.
At9:30 or 10 we decide to head for the beach.
The wind is high and there is much cloud off and on, but the day is warm.
We spend the day reading, snoozing, drinking, swimming and watching eye candy.
We are thrilled that this is not primarily an American resort. It´s so nice to rarely hear English. Mostly, we hear Spanish, French, German and Italian.
Tomorrow we are going snorkeling with nurse sharks and sting rays.
Just before we leave the beach, I am returning to my beach chair and a French woman asks me how the water is.
I reply, ¨Perfection¨¨
She says, ¨Does perfection exist in this world¨
I say, "It´s a state of mind"....I am unemployed, in love, on my honeymoon (for lack of a better word), in one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen and meeting some of the most charming people the world has to offer.....perfection?

Republica Dominican - segundo dia

We wake early again and drink the world´s worst coffee.
To make up for the coffee, however, there is a smoothie bar at the breakfast buffet, where you can have your choice of 4 different drinks, all made with fresh tropical fruits, some of which are unrecognizable, all of which send your mouth into a happy dance.
After breakfast, we lounge beside one of the many pools, deciding which excursions might interest us.
Once we decide, Michael goes to make the bookings, flirting with our tour rep. the whole time.
We are picked up at 1:30 for the horse back riding that we booked on a whim in the morning.
We drive far out into the country side, away from all the big resorts, past real farms populated with cows, horses, burros and real people living their lives.
We are introduced to our caballeros. By a fluke, it will be just Michael and I and our two guides on this trip.
In the high heat of a Dominican afternoon, we saunter past farm houses (which are really just 2 room shacks since everyone lives outside most of the time), we wind through the country side, down narrow trails that take us through many bananna and papaya plantations.
Eventually, we come to Macao Beach, one of the most beautiful beaches I have ever seen. A looong curving expanse of white sand. Framed on one side by spectacular sand cliffs, and on the other by a sand point covered with marching coconut palms that dissapear into the horizon, a perfect artist´s study in perspective.
We leave the horses and thow ourselves in the water which is, somehow, even clearer than before and possibly even warmer.
We are surrounded by Dominican families. We do not hear a word of English. The sun is relentless.
Neither of us can stop sighing.....almost weeping at the sheer, unspeakable beauty of it all.
There is nothing more to say about this day. Anything else that we did after returning to the hotel pales in comparison to Macao beach.

Republica Dominican - First full day

We wake at 7 a.m. because of the back-up beeper on the grader working not far from our room. I am hung over but don´t care.
One of the several buffet options where we can eat (all inclusive) is right in front of the block of rooms we are in. We stumble in, looking for coffee. It is some of the worst coffee I have ever tasted in my life. And they even grow it here.
The food is exactly what you expect from a buffet, some ok, some actually good, mostly it all just tastes bland....kind of like eating every meal at Stage West.
We park by the pool, waiting to talk to our tour rep. and ask questions because we had NO intention of attending the 9 a.m. orientation meeting.
We meet our rep., Martin, a very cute little French Canadian boy. We get the info we need. By this time it is near lunch. We have had several drinks. We decide to eat and head to the beach.
The water in D.R. is the colour of emeralds. It is so crystal clear that it looks fake. It seems unreasonable that when you are in 6 or 7 feet of water that you can still see the bottom perfectly.
The rest of the day passes in a blur.

AND I'M LEAVING THE COUNTRY TOO !

I find it quite funny, and strangely synchronistic, that my decision regarding my job and our final decision on a vacation (togetherness break) destination almost coincided. In both cases, there is a noticable difference in the weight carried on my well-sculpted shoulders.

Alas, we had to give up on our plans for Venice. Because we're working with the money that people gave us for our wedding, our budget is set in stone, and we simply do not have enough to make Venice worth it. We could probably get there, and stay there, but we'd have nothing left to "DO" anything with, and where's the fun in that? And believe me, we tried every possible angle. At one point, we were even considering (thanks to Traudie's suggestion) flying to Frankfurt, renting a car and making the 12 hour drive to Venice through the mountains.

So, true to our word, we called the Flight Centre ans asked them to send us anywhere we could afford. They seemed a little freaked out by our total lack of requests or issues. We told them that we really didn't care what country it was or where we'd be staying as long as it fit our dates and budget. We'll be leaving April 8 for a week in Punta Cana, Dominican Republic.

I QUIT !

Well, I've done it. I've committed the unthinkable. The original, theatrical, self-employed sin. I've turned down work. Yes indeed. And not one, not two, but three, yes THREE contracts that would have employed me from mid-June to labor Day, and for the month of October. At a time when virtually no one is working in Canadian theatre, I turned up my perfect, aristocratic little nose at three gigs. Has it finally happened? Have I finally lost my booze-soaked-ego-drenched little mind? One might think so. But hear my logic before you pass sentence.

I've been fighting a certain amount of disillusionment about the business lately. I'm tired of trying to do my best for paying customers that treat me as though I were just expensive television; tired of producers who only know how to be cheap as opposed to actually knowing how to manage a budget; tired of Artistic Directors who know very little about art and even less about directing. So I sat myself down and had a talk with myself...actually several talks....over many weeks. I realized that part of this disillusionment has a lot to do with being really, REALLY tired of fretting over money and not having or doing the things I want. For a lark, I sat down one day and did the math to figure out just how much money I make when I work out of town. The results horrified me. I discovered that after the various mandatory deductions, paying my agent, paying for my out of town accommodation, putting money away for taxes and paying for gas to go home once a week, I was actually only making between five or six hundred dollars per week, depending on the contract. How many people do you know that have been doing the same job for 22 years, are making less than $600 a week? And remember, that 600 still has to pay all the bills at home. And God forbid you should afford to go out for a drink once or twice a week, or maybe even put a little money away for when you don't have work.....like, say, in a month! Or what about, say, a trip?? Which brings up another point...... I'm a financial genius to be able to live the lifestyle I do on the money I make !!!!!!!!

So I thought to myself, "That's shit! And I am simply not willing to accept it any longer !!!!"

[As a side note, it occurs to me at this point that the title of my blog seems somewhat prophetic.]

Now, it's one thing to wave your moral outrage around, and another thing entirely to actually decide how you're going to proceed. It became clear very quickly that, if I were going to take a step back from the business for a bit, take a break from my job until it starts liking me again, I was going to need some source of income. Thankfully, I happen to live in a region that has perfected the art of separating tourists from their money and, having worked at The Chamber of Commerce, I am more than just a little connected to the local business community.

Long story short, I pumped some connections, made some inquires, turned on my special brand of charm and will now be spending the summer waiting tables at one of Niagara's busiest restaurants. Now, I don't want Revenue Canada coming down on anyone who has worked there before, so I won't mention the name of the place, nor will I mention exact dollar amounts. However.....THIS is the kind of money daddy needs to be makin' !!!!

Not only that, but I will get to sleep in my own bed for more than 3 weeks at a time. It will be worth it to actually plant something in the garden because I'll actually be around to see it grow. I can spend time in my fabulous new darkroom, cook, have dinner parties, B-B-Q's, see my friends in Toronto now and then. All this while making a shit-load of money.

Crazy? .....like a fox.

I AM MY OWN GRANNY, GOING TO VENICE

I have several girl friends who are actually just gay men trapped in women's bodies. You may have a friend or two like that yourself. I have a feeling that I'm almost the opposite, except that I'm actually my own Lithuanian grandmother trapped in a gay man's body. The reason I think this is that I just cleaned the house, and I mean CLEANED the house. I didn't clean it so much as I waged war on the dust and accumulating cat hair. I mean I vacuumed the baseboards, the door sills AND the picture frames for Christsakes ! And here's the really scary part....I enjoyed every minute of it. In fact, I LOVED it, and am now sitting here with a smug smirk on my face, indulging in the satisfaction that every surface sparkles. I'm considering therapy.

On an entirely different bent...
It looks like we are actually going to be able to take our "togetherness break" (thank you Mom for finding a suitable replacement for 'honeymoon') in April. We have a week off at the same time !!! Well, I have several weeks off. A whole bunch of them really. I'm not starting in Grand Bend until the middle of June. So, we're really, really trying to go to Venice with the trip money that people gave us for our wedding. It's one more of the great conundrums of my life that I can be unemployed, penniless, bills piling up to the ceiling....and I'm planning a trip to Venice. Ain't life strange and wonderful.

PORN IS GOOD, PEOPLE ARE BAD

I suppose that's much like saying "Guns don't kill people, people kill people", though I still have some trouble with that one. Who made the guns?? But that's not my mini-rant today, it starts with porn. Now let's be frank (or earnest), I like my porn. I'm happy that it's available to me and I'm not shy about talking about it or embarrased to have it seen in our home. I sometimes check my favorite porn websites for updates on a daily basis, just like I might read the newspaper in the morning (which I don't). Porn can be, and IS, a healthy part of a healthy adult's sexual life.

However, you get a bunch of guys arrested in a major kiddie-porn ring and suddenly ANYONE who even speaks the word porn is seen as a trench-coat-wearing-degenerate assumed to be luring children into the car. Pleeeeease don't get me wrong. The kiddie-porn is sick and sad and I'm outraged that everyone is celebrating a 3 year sentance for the distributor. BUT...NOT ALL PORN IS BAD!!! SEX, BETWEEN CONSENTING ADULTS, IS NOT BAD. And if those consenting adults should choose to video tape their sex and post it on the internet for the world to see, that's ok too. Ya don't hafta watch it if ya don't want ta!

There is a disturbing trend toward wild over-reacting in modern society, and the blame lays firmly at the feet of the media. Instead of sound, balanced stories about same-sex marriage, the flames are fanned and suddenly it's all about polygamy and marrying your animals. Instead of constant, common sense education about alcohol it's place in our lives, suddenly a glass of wine with dinner every night makes you a hopeless alcoholic.

You know, this is one of those topics that I could go on about for hours, but really, what's the use. As Kathi says, "We all end up paying for what a few bad people do." So, instead of preaching, pontificating, moralizing or any other kind of ing, I'm just gonna go relax. Yup, polish off a bottle of gin while my many spouses and I take turns buggering the under-age goat.

AM I BLUE? YOU'D BE TOO...

Yes, I'm singin' the unemployment blues. Not a song I like to sing, but I'm certainly familiar with the tune, at least I've become familiar with it over the past few years. It occurred to me, only today, that this is something that I've never really had to deal with. Through the 20 years that I've been doing this, I've never, really, been unemployed, or not for long enough that it mattered. If I didn't have a job, there was always one close enough on the horizon that I could actually say I was "between engagements". And there have certainly been times when there was a longer space between gigs and money was tight, but it was there. But usually, there has always been some income, some day job, some contract, some form of income, however tiny.

Recently, the span of time between jobs has been longer and whatever those little money-makers that used to keep me afloat may have been seem to have dried up.

THIS is why I've been so grumpy about this particular stretch of 'at home time' as I've decided to call it.

But, what does any good driven, self-motivated, been-around-the-block self-employed person do in times like these?
A) Continue to live normally, which is already on a lower budget than the rest of the world.
B) Formulate a plan.

FARTING IS FUNNY

Robert, who plays Pish-Tush, has a fart machine. This is no dime store whoopee cushion, but a very realistic sounding collection of farts, 7 or 8 in all, that comes with a remote so that you don't even have to be in the room to release a fart from the carefully placed speaker. He's had this thing since early on in rehearsals and it has NEVER stopped being funny. You'd think that once you knew it was machine you'd stop laughing, but no. Every night in the dressing room, we all turn in to a bunch of giggling 10 year olds.

The only person who didn't know it was a fart machine was the on-stage sound tech., a sweet but too innocent kid who's doing this gig for high-school credit. He was simply convinced that Robert had one of the worst cases of gastrointestinal distress ever known to man. Which, of course, we all found HILARIOUS !

It just proves the point that everything you need to know, you really did learn in kindergarten:

-Cookies & milk and a nap makes you feel better
-Anything is more fun naked
-Farting is funny.

Go ahead, .... you know you want to.

THE CHI INSPECTORS ARRIVE

We've been asked to take care of some friend's cats while their house is on the market. The cats arrived yesterday afternoon and by late evening they were pretty much running the house. Maggie (left) is the more shy, delicate of the pair and she takes her lead from Lewis (right) most of the time. Lewis is one of the most eccentric cats I've ever seen. He stomps! And I mean loudly! You can hear him coming from anywhere in the house. And he is the nosiest cat EVER. Doesn't matter where you are or what you're doing, he will need to supervise it. A few minutes ago he got up from a sound sleep on the sofa just to come into the office because he heard the printer. Once he'd jumped up on the desk and checked it out, he was happy to return to the sofa.

While we appreciate the fact that they're going to move around the chi in the house for a few weeks, we're going to have to talk about the sleeping arrangements. We both woke up pinned to the bed this morning as both cats had decided that there was room for all 4 of us.

MIKADO & DIAL M PHOTOS

The usual suspects...The "Dial M..." cast: Doug Hughes, James Kall, Deborah Drakeford & Edward Belanger.

The set for "Dial M..."


Keith as Ko-Ko, The Lord High Executioner in "The Mikado". We think he looks alot like Edith Head.

Me as Pooh-Bah. He actually says, 'I was born sneering'. Fitting, don't you think?

Costume shot.

TO BE HOME

It occurs to me that many, many people don't experience the longing to sleep in their own bed, or the intense joy of being once again being surrounded by their own 4 walls as often as I do.

It was only during my drive home after the matinee yesterday that I started to realize how exhausting these past 3 weeks have been, and my body decided it was going to collapse whether I was ready or not. Michael, true to his word, had martinis and home made pea soup waiting. My exhaustion exhibited itself in several ways. I had option paralysis and couldn't decide if I wanted to eat, drink, unpack, take a hot bath, sleep, watch a movie or all or none of those things. I became very emotional, on the verge of tears, mostly from joy of being home. And I couldn't get warm. I started to shiver at one point and decided to take a hot bath to warm up. Then we watched a movie on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, with Michael feeding me soup and martinis. In spite of going through sweat and cold cycles, I actually slept well and feel great today. So great, in fact, that I didn't even mind driving to Burlington to begin my active dental therapy (deep cleaning below the gum line !!!)

I am so grateful to Dr. Dave for his generosity because there is now way I could afford the kind of intensive therapy my poor, diseased gums need right now. Thanks to him, I'll be able to keep my teeth for a few more years. And it was all pretty easy really, even though my mouth is still frozen to the point where I managed to chew open my bottom lip without noticing. None of that is stopping me from drinking my martini however.

Look around your house and love where you are.

AD LIBBING FREELY...PRICELESS

One can certainly tell that we're all feeling a little more relaxed about the show because the shenanigans have begun. Keith was feeling particularly impish last night and doing his best to crack up the chorus boys. I thought it was time he had a taste of his own medicine, knowing full well that he looooves playing ball with someone who is as shame-free as he is.

In the second act of 'The Mikado', he is part of a trio called "Here's a How-Dee-Doo". They do the song 4 times, each time getting faster and each time with Keith doing something goofier and schtickier. At one point, he rides a tricycle across the stage tooting the horn incessantly. Shortly after that, I have a scene with him where he tries to bribe me to commit perjury on his behalf, saying, "You'll be grossly insulted as usual". To which I am supposed to reply, "Will the insult be cash down or at a date." In an effort to keep the script slightly updated and understandable, I have been given license to say something like, "Will the insult be cash up-front or American Express?" The other night I replied, "Will the insult be cash down or MasterCard", then, turning to the audience, "Ad libbing freely and getting away with it, priceless."

However, my coup de grace last night was this reply, "Will the insult be cash up front, or will I have to chase you on a tricycle like a cheap comedian?" For a moment, Keith's eyebrows started to crawl over his head, then he turned to the audience with a 'can you believe him' face, and I followed suit with my own 'can you believe me' face. He then gave me a faux slap across the face and we carried on with the scene.

Offstage, he congratulated me on not only crossing the line, but obliterating it completely.

Oh, and in an earlier scene, he lost his mind completely and called my by HIS character name..... TWICE !!!!

I THINK I'M TURNING JAPANESE

"The Mikado" is finally up and running. Well, I shouldn't say finally because it only had two weeks of rehearsal....not nearly enough. I have never felt so under-rehearsed or unprepared to put a show on stage in my life. And I wasn't alone. For the first three public performances, if you should happen to have the presence of mind to look into a fellow actor's eyes, all you would have seen was sheer terror. All of us felt as though we'd been shot out of a cannon with no net to catch us. As of last night though, we actually started to have some fun. It was great to look into Keith's eyes during one of our scenes and see that old devilish sparkle back.

Two shows today and then a matinee tomorrow and then....I can go home and sleep in my own bed for the first time in 3 weeks !!!!! Yay !!!!!

WHAT DO YOU VALUE - A SEMI-RANT

In a recent email, I had mentioned to my mother that I was about to enter into a fairly long span of time (3 months) when I would be 'unencumbered by employment'. She said that it must be demoralizing to have to get a waitering job. I thought about it for awhile and came to the conclusion that being a waiter is not a problem at all, in fact it can be a nice change of pace, and fun depending on where you're doing it. No, the problem I have is that in any other job, once you had been doing it for 20 years, and you were actually pretty good at it, you wouldn't have to consider supplementing your income by waitering.

Have you ever stopped to think about the enormous commitment any artist has to have in order to keep being an artist? Have you ever heard of a doctor, teacher, engineer or chef supplementing their income with another job so that they can continue with their chosen career?

Part of the problem is that we are not taught to value any art form as a past-time, a leisure activity, so that means less attendance, less money, fewer jobs, lower pay. Also, especially when it comes to theatre, we are not taught to value talent. There was a day when people would crawl a mile over broken glass to see a great actor because they were a GREAT actor. Now, we value only success and, thanks to Hollywood, you don't really need any talent at all to be a success. In fact, I've noticed a similar trend in theatre as well. All too often I've watched a show thinking, "Who the hell did that talent-free hack fellate to get this job?"

What's the answer? I don't know that there is one. Change will happen. It makes me sad, however, that most people's ideas and opinions about art, the arts and a life in or with art are based on what they've seen on t.v.

DRUNK ON STAGE, WITHOUT TRYING

After all these years in the biz, after all the crazy shit I've seen and done on stage, this is a first. In my 'big' scene, James' character makes a point of saying to my character that he's going to make sure I have at least 3 brandies before we discuss the price of my car. Well....tonight, there was an unusually long pause as he gazed into the liquor cabinet. I wondered if he was planning some little prank. I waited.

Now, what you need to know is that, purely by chance, some of the liquor bottles in the cabinet are ACTUAL booze...the real thing. This is highly unusual (and, in fact, illegal but don't get me started on the fucking government and their Victorian attitudes about liquor control) and real booze is NEVER consumed on stage. In this case, however, we needed to dress the set in a hurry for a photo shoot and the bottles just ended up staying on the set. Usually, the 'brandy' that we drink is actually iced tea. Tonight, however, the bottle that should have the iced tea in it wasn't there, it accidentally got left in the sink after being washed from the matinee.

So James, knowing that he had to pour something, gave me a shot of Glenfiddich. This would have been fine except for the fact that during the course of the scene, I have to pound two more of them. On a night at the bar, 3 scotches would be nothing, but when you are trying to keep all your senses sharp and your British accent crisp, 3 scotches is the last thing you want. Not to mention the fact that in a few minutes, you have to perform a delicately choreographed and potentially dangerous strangulation scene. As I was running through all the possibilities in my head, I remembered that fateful night that we got snowed in in Hamilton during "Beauty & The Beast" and that horrible realization as I stepped on stage at 11:00 a.m the next morning that I was STILL hammered. This couldn't even come close to that, but it loomed in the back of my mind none-the-less.

I think James was worse off than I was, frankly. He was so worried about me that he kept dropping lines. I, on the other hand, was quite relaxed and had a marvelous time. I think, perhaps, a nice nap now.

THE AMATEURS, BLESS THEM

There was a time when 'amateur' was a respectable word. If someone called you an amateur, it was actually considered a compliment, the implication being that you must be very good at it, since you devote a great deal of your time to it without being paid. Sadly, that same word now has pejorative connotations in spite of the fact that I have seen some amateur community theatre that has knocked my sox off! And really, if it weren't for amateur Gilbert & Sullivan societies around the globe, the operattas probably would have sunk into obscurity by now because who else does them?

So, here I am rehearsing this production of "The Mikado", while still performing "Dial M...". (Yes, my days are jam packed and wildly varied...and I'm really looking forward to March , my next day off). All the leads in Mikado are professionals, hired under the Equity independent Opera contract, and all the chorus are amateurs, members of the G & S Society producing the thing. The director, choreographer and music director are also pro.
Here's the rub....2 weeks just isn't enough time to put together a show of this size. Especially when you have a chorus of 18 who don't do this for a living. The poor things, bless them, sound amazing, but getting some of them to sing while executing a step-ball-change or even a step-touch is a bit like building a sky scraper.....one floor at a time....and it takes forever. Mind you, some of the pros are not necessarily fairing any better due to the massive amount of material being crammed into their brains in such a short time period. And it's not like the dialogue is easy to remember when one has to say things like: "Merely corroborative detail intended to give artistic verisimilitude to an otherwise bald and unconvincing narrative." Or how about, "This is no time for airy persiflage!"

BUTTS, BLACKOUTS, BAD THEATRE & BUTTLE

I've started rehearsal for "The Mikado" now. Of course, because I'm still doing "Dial M..." , and "Mikado" is a semi-pro production rehearsing from 2-5 & 6:30-9:30, I can only be at rehearsal on Monday, Tuesday, Saturday morning & Sunday morning. Interesting, since I'm also the assistant director on "Mikado". None the less, I get the rehearsal reports from Connor (I'm living with he and his family.....very old photo in the link....he's 17 now, a foot taller and an octave lower). Connor tells me that at last night's rehearsal, they were working on the opening number, in which all the men have fans. At one point, they are to stick the fans in their sashes, but since they're not in costume yet, Connor just stuck his in his back pocket. Well, bamboo IS one of the strongest materials on the planet, and a rather large sliver made it's was through his jeans and his boxers, directly into his ass! He had to excuse himself to the washroom and managed to get it out without calling anyone in to help.

In our matinee yesterday, we took an impromptu intermission due to a freak power surge that shut the show down. The weird thing was that it happened just as we were starting the murder scene as I stick my key in the door and there is a huge thunder clap. It was almost as though it were a real thunder clap 'cause that's when the power went out. The show was up and running again in 10 minutes and we carried on from that spot.

Michael' s show is opening in Barrie tonight, then he'll be coming here to see "Dial M..." with his parents tomorrow. We're all hoping that this crazy, freaky weather doesn't get any worse. At the moment, the driveway where I'm living is like one long curling rink.

And "YAY" for Jeffrey Buttle winning us another medal!

RING-RING, RING-RING, RING-RING...

As if it's not bad enough that the Wednesday afternoon matinee is little more than a warm-up show for the week. Not that it's intended that way, it's simply flexing those muscles again after 2 days off, remembering all the little details and nuances....and trying to ignore the snoring of the little old ladies in the front row. (Who else goes to theatre on a Wednesday afternoon?)

Today, however, we treated the "Dial M..." audience to the CLASSIC stage blunder. The kind one actually expects to see in high school and community theatre productions. It was the murder scene, hardly a pivotal scene in the show, no? I knew something was off then I put my key in the lock and there was no thunder clap until much later than usual. Then, suddenly, there was music much earlier than usual. Undaunted, I closed the door, made my way to the curtains, opened them, began tying my knots in the strangling scarf, all the while listening to the music that is SUPPOSED to be playing AS I'm killing her. I finish the knots and wait for the phone to ring (my cue to hide behind the curtains). I wait. I wait. Wrong music still playing. I do some intense-staring-at-the-phone-acting. I wait. I do some worried-glancing-at-the-bedroom-door-acting. Finally I figure, "Fuck it. Not my problem" and hide behind the curtains. At last, the phone rings, Deb's cue to come out of the bedroom. The phone speaks with that insistent British "ring-ring...ring-ring...ring-ring...". Both Deb and I are madly thinking of way to make the murder really exciting now because our murder music has long since finished. Finally she nears the phone. Ring-ring...ring-ring..."Hello?"...ring-ring ! But did it stop then? No. It rang not ONCE after she'd picked it up, but TWICE. At this point, I just decided to get the bloody thing over with. No point in waiting for my music cue anyway since it passed a good 5 minutes ago.

So, we struggled, and gurgled, and grunted and tried to add in the extra drama that the music would normally supply. I suppose we did alright. And the audience wouldn't have missed the music cue since they won't know it should have been there. They might, however, begin to wonder, "When do British phones stop ringing?".