Wordless Wednesday - Wardrobe

I told you I'd be back soon with my wardrobe update, and what better day than Wordless Wednesday to share it?

We had a quick read-through of the play last night, so we weren't in wardrobe. Sorry these are lacking a model, but I'd look pretty weird taking selfies in the dressing room. Maybe. A tad.

 
Costume #1 is the above pants (LOVE these; they're my own) and turquoise top. It's worn for pretty much half of the show, along with metallic flats and a turquoise droop necklace. Costume #3 is the same pants and purple-magenta top (hard to tell in the picture, but take my word for it) with the same metallic flats.

To break up the two "same pants" days (it's actually several days later), I've got a black blouse with a long attached tie, gray skirt (which I've used for numerous costumes over the years), and black flats.

So, whatchya think?

Linking to Wordless Wednesday

Mixed Bag Monday

You know how you have so much that you want to tell a friend during a phone conversation that you're thinking, "Well, that looks like a bipolar mix of topics if ever there was one." Well, yeah. That's my post today.

"Acting out" this weekend was awesome. While our opening night was lackluster (we later realized that the audience wasn't great, which tends to batter already-sensitive actor egos), our Saturday and Sunday performances were stellar, hilarious, and incredibly fun. That high that can only be brought by appreciative audiences was better than I remember.

A side note of annoyance (to any of you who may be live audience members at any point in the future, please take note) occurred during yesterday's performance. It was clear that, although it was a Sunday audience (historically known as consisting of the elderly and more religious types), they were thoroughly enjoying the show, bawdiness and all. We began our second act and they seemed to still be on the chatty side (like trying to teach kids right after they come in from recess), so while my "fiance" started his lines (in which he's questioning himself, and me, about how his show's first read-through went), a gentleman in the audience STARTED ANSWERING.

We heard him as clear as day. He wasn't ignorant (well...) nor hard-of-hearing nor any other excuse I could fathom. He was just a wiseass. He even loudly replied to whomever sat near him, "I know, I'm bad. I cause trouble." (Something like that; I was too busy trying not to glare into the audience.) Needless to say, he made it incredibly difficult to focus and my fellow actor got flustered trying to remember his line. (He didn't appear that way to the audience and I thought he did a smashing job of not letting it get to him, but we were both PISSED in that moment.)

The fact that the show is called "Don't Talk to the Actors" just added to the ridiculousness.

Similarly, we had someone's cell phone go off THREE TIMES -- and they didn't turn it off or do anything. Just kept ringing one of those obnoxious songs. Our "stage manager" told people to turn them off, especially since we have cell phone rings (and even the sound of a vibrating phone) as part of the show, but apparently the request didn't stick.

It didn't sour the whole show, but such mistakes are just reprehensible to me. Why do folks feel they're above rules and general common courtesy? So many people ask us how we remember so many lines, and I now think to myself, "If you knew how much work went into it, and were up there trying to remember them yourself, would you keep your yapping to yourself and turn off your phone??"

Of course, this wasn't the majority of the audience, and we were ultimately SO grateful just to have an audience who enjoyed spending their time with us! 

Anyhoo, needless to say, I'm hoping for three more great audiences, and am bittersweet about it all ending...especially since I'm mentally planning on starting my spring cleaning when the end comes. Blech.

Still need to get a picture or two of the costumes I selected. I'd also like to grab one or two of "behind the scenes" stuff. We'll see if I can remember. *wink, wink*

NEXT TOPIC!

Happy St. Patrick's Day! I'm one of those super-proud (mostly) Irish folks that don't full-on celebrate the day. Like, I don't drink green beer (or any, really, for that matter...not just to celebrate the day), I don't hit up the parade (Dave's not a fan of the rowdiness; can't blame him), and I don't go to church to thank St. Patrick for being crazy enough to want to return to Ireland after being enslaved there for years, all for his passion of spreading his religion.

But, I'm wearing green, and I take plenty of time to appreciate my ancestry.

And, apparently, I depress children.

Yep, call me the "let's learn about Ireland and St. Patrick!!!" Debbie Downer.

See, I decided to use the chance to show my fourth graders some of the databases we purchase, so I looked up "Irish" (on a couple of sites so they can see the difference), and man was I a tad too informative.

They learned about St. Patrick, and since they've been learning a lot about African-American history, I used it as a teachable moment to show that Africans weren't the only slaves (and still aren't). Okay, not TOO bad.

Then, we searched about the Irish Potato Famine. Oops. I had read it in advance, but the more I talked about it, the more I realized that I was probably...um...yeah. It wasn't anything horrific, but it was far from the usual "they're after me lucky charms" leprechaun festivities of a regular St. Patrick's Day. "See the historical etching of this family? The father who's crying? The mother holding her baby, with several kids laying around? Yeah, they're gonna die." Wop wop.

Maybe we should've just researched Irish music...?

So, that's where I am today. How 'bout you?

Acting Out - Tonight!

Taken by Dave Dellecese
ilionlittletheatre.com

(Place actually looks a bit different now.)

The time has come. Opening night. I haven't had an opening night in over two years. We only had about 6 1/2 weeks to put this one together (the average is 8 weeks; just 1 1/2 weeks doesn't sound like a big deal, but considering how quickly a show needs to come together on only 2-3 rehearsals a week...um, yeah, it is). For the most part, it looks as if we had over 8 weeks. Yep, lookin' good! (jinx!)

I'm stupid crazy excited. Yes, stupid crazy. I'm surprised I'm actually coherent with my students today 'cuz my brain is wackadoo.

Yet, I'm trying to reign myself in. Actors (and Irish, incidentally) are by nature a superstitious lot. So, just for fun (and since St. Patrick's Day is on Monday, and I'm both Irish AND an actor), I thought I'd share a handful of the superstitions I've heard of and found more about when it comes to theatre. (Read: thee-AY-tre...ahem...just kidding)

- Don't say "good luck." -- Don't you dare! It's bad luck to say "good luck" and it must be "cancelled out" by either cursing or having the cast wish one another "bad luck." The term "break a leg" is acceptable, although there are several possible reasons for its etymology. (Please don't tell my students I'm citing Wikipedia. Mkay? Thanks.)

- Similarly, no flowers until after your first performance. You haven't even performed yet. How do you know if you'll succeed? You don't. It's a jinx to accept (or be given) flowers before you tread the boards. It's kind of like how I can't get overly calm or "we got this, yo" because I've already jinxed myself. Nothing is definite, not until after our final performance. There's always a new line that decides to jump your thought processes. Don't. Get. Over-confident.

- Ghosts haunt theaters and need one night alone on the stage. This superstition harkens back to the ghost of Thespis of Athens (6th century B.C.), although every theater supposedly has its own ghost. (Ours, we call George, although there is talk that there has been a female sighting in our attic from outside. I've seen and experienced George's presence and sense of humor, so I know this one to be true. No foolin'.) I have just recently heard of the "one night alone" theory, but we try to have one dark night before starting the show's run to rest up and be with our families before the "craziness starts."

- Ghost light. Linked to the previous thought, a ghost light (sometimes placed downstage, center) is put in place to keep the spirits at bay. However, out of practicality, this one makes a lot of sense. Ours is actually backstage near our electric box switches, which makes it easier when you're entering a creepy, dark theater to see your way to the switches.

- No whistling allowed. Okay, I just learned about this one quite recently from a fellow actor, although I've also read a different reason for it. As told, whistling (pre-walkie talkies) was a way to cue folks who were working above the scenery to a change. Allegedly, if someone was carelessly whistling, they were at greater risk of being nailed on the head with a sandbag. Alternately, I've read that it would miscue someone, leading to someone possibly losing their job. Either way, I get the evil eye when I thoughtlessly whistle...then Dick turns around three times, spits and swears. You can't make this $%&# up.

- Don't say "MacBeth." There are many reasons not to say the name of this play, as well as ways to amend your problem if you do. So, just don't. ;-)

- Blue not allowed, unless accompanied by silver. Oops! I didn't know this one until just now! Blue dye was such a valuable commodity that it could lead to the theater's misfortune if it was worn onstage. The only saving grace would be to wear silver along with it to show your audience that you do, indeed, have a reliable backer (who could afford to furnish the blue dyed clothes AND silver). I, along with my "fiance" Jerry, are wearing a beautiful turquoise. Luckily, I'm wearing my silver engagement ring (yes, I take off my wedding ring when necessary, and hide it from George)...maybe I should suggest he wear something silver, too. Gah!

Side note: Green (blending with the outdoors when actors once put shows on outside; also corpse-like) and yellow (the color always worn by an actor playing the devil) are also bad luck. Jeez. What CAN'T we wear??

- Bad dress rehearsal, good opening night. SOOOO many reasons this is used (scare the cast straight? Make them feel better if it's a rough go?) Either way, it has made me feel better plenty of times. Our dress rehearsal went well, although there were areas that we could fix (I'm beating myself up over one line lapse that lasted a couple of seconds...but felt like 10), so I feel that's enough to get us through. RIGHT???

If you find these interesting, check out the miscellaneous extras here. Neat stuff!

Oh, and for the curiosity-minded of you, I'm going to try to take a picture or two of my costumes this weekend to share what "style" I ended up going with. Or you could just come see the show and see for yourself. Either/or. ;-) (I know, quite impossible for most of you, but still...it's a nice thought!)

For now, I'll be getting to the theater early to do my hair/makeup and look over lines (hopefully "quietly") before we begin. Can't be too safe! DON'T wish me luck!! ;-)

(Wordy) Wordless Wednesday - Chalk It Up

I know, I know. Wordless Wednesdays should be just that -- wordless. But, I suck at not writing/talking. It's just..."how I do."

So, given how involved with the show I've been lately, I thought it would be cool to share this picture that I snapped quickly before the writing got erased...

Boring, right? Just a homemade chalkboard with scribbling sitting on the stage floor.

But, there's more to it than that.

This is a set dressing (technically prop since we actually used it during the show) from "1940s Radio Hour," which we performed a handful of years ago. As each singer in the radio show arrived for "rehearsal" (all in front of the audience, mind you), we signed in. I was first -- "Connie." Then, a sweet actress named Char (who played "Ginger"), and my sister Mary (who played "B.J." -- it was changed from a male character and worked quite well). Finally, (others didn't sign in) we see Neal. Er, "Heel" (as I jokingly changed it to each night). In other words, Dave.

That was the show in which Mary and I got to actually interact, and joke around, and sing duets together. It was the show during which our grandmother passed away. It was the show that we were allowed to cry during the last song ("I'll Be Seeing You" -- how can you NOT cry to that?), so Mary and I wept and wept over losing her. No acting needed. 

It was the show in which I had to sing pig latin. PIG LATIN.

It was the show in which countless '40s songs were sung. It was the show we "took on the road" to a local library and an assisted living home or two to spread the cheer around. It was the show with "Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy;" one of my all-time favorites.

It was the show in which I drank about 8-10 Cokes each performance with no bathroom break until it was over.

It was the show in which Dave and I met. We were both seeing other people, and we didn't speak a whole heck of a lot offstage (except for a silly/snide remark here or there...I'm socially awkward), but we had a blast together onstage -- and since we were allowed to improv, we still got to know each other pretty well from the start.

This was an important show. And it's beyond awesome that the chalkboard will be a part of my current show, considering it's my first show back in a couple of years and I'm enjoying it so much (and it doesn't hurt that it's frickin' HYSTERICAL).

It definitely feels like returning home again, and something as small as this makes my heart swell.

SIDE NOTE: MOHAWK VALLEY PEEPS, THE SHOW OPENS THIS WEEKEND (March 14, 15, 16, 21, 22, 23 - Friday & Sundays at 8pm, Sundays at 2pm). TICKETS ARE $12 ADULTS, $8 STUDENTS AT THE DOOR. 

Just in case, I like to mention that there's a bit of "PG-13" (or maybe worse) language. No "F" words, but yeah...it's not for kids. ;-)

When Things Get Tough, Make a List

freedigitalphotos.net
(This isn't our kitchen...)

With nearly every weeknight being taken over by theater rehearsals (not that I'm complaining! It's been a blast) and twice weekly physical therapy sessions (okay, that I kind of AM complaining about), it's easy to get overwhelmed. Super duper stressed. It's nice to have something fun to focus on, but the rest of this crazy life can get pretty nuts.

But, I've done pretty well. How? By chunking. Then listing.

Chunking means a million things (one of which involves child literacy, but that's not what I'm talkin' about here). In this case, I just use it as a coping mechanism; a way to handle things in smaller amounts. One day at a time. One meal at a time.

Since the things I look forward to most are at the end of the day (ie rehearsal and seeing Hadley and Dave at the end of it all), I look at each day in sections: morning, work, dinner/physical therapy/shower (those are one thing because they happen quickly in the span of about an hour +/- post-work), then "fun." (Yes, sometimes the "fun" part is stressful, but it's the almost-guaranteed positive in my day.)

Sure, sometimes there are positives in the rest of the day. Like, the morning rush almost always gives way to my daily phone chat with my mom. That's generally a happy, high point of the day, done while eating breakfast or folding laundry or what not. If I can fit little tasks like this in while getting other stuff done, I feel a) more productive, b) less overwhelmed later on (no one likes that "I've got NO clean underwear!?!?" feeling), and c) happier (see "a"; laziness makes one beat oneself up, whereas productivity gives a boost of adrenaline...it's a thing).

And, most days I can find SOME bit of happiness in the "work" side of things. Despite being a librarian, I despise putting books away. (My stack of books can attribute to that.) But if I chunk it into sections -- putting away chapter books on one day, or half of the "easy" books, or all of the pet and sport books, it's more manageable, even with a constantly full schedule. Plus, there's almost always a happy moment with the kids that makes the rest of the stress easier to take. Even just being in a good mood and laughing along with them (ie not letting their annoying habits break me down...and remembering they're only kids) helps.

As for P/T...well, that's a post for another day, but let's just call it a necessary evil. I go. I do. I feel awkward. I then become frustrated realizing that the exercises I have to do at home just doubled and I'll be getting up at frickin' 5:30 to get fit them in. I get grouchy. Then I move on. It's a cycle, and I'm used to it now. (Well, not the getting up early thing. It's not in my blood. I was meant to be my grandmother -- Grandpa got coffee and breakfast ready for HER.)

When I don't have P/T, I run around getting a "nicer" dinner ready and grabbing a shower (I shower at night out of convenience and time constraints...don't say "ew"). The time still flies, and I find myself running out the door to rehearsal.

*SKREEEEECH* (Not the dude from "Saved by the Bell"; let's not go there.) This is where my listing comes in.

I'm not great at to-do lists. Sometimes, it's a must. Like anytime I go shopping for example. Groceries or otherwise, I will inevitably forget something if I don't make a DETAILED list. Like...if I don't put down the COLOR of the shoes I was going to get, I will immediately walk into Target and go into a Target-coma; must look at EVERYTHING in the store. Inevitably walk out without the shoes I came for. Beat myself up later. (Same works with food of all sorts. Or toilet paper. Hate that.)

However, making a list of the food I have in the house or, better yet, the meal possibilities (some savvy bloggers refer to them as "meal plans", but I'm hardly a "planner"...so, I guess it's a "meal list") on my fridge's white board helps in this regard.

Of course, the first week I dared use this method (the craziest week yet...until this week, during which the show opens), things got thrown around...but, it was still nice to have the list and use a couple of the "suggested" dinners. Like, Dave and the munchkin stayed with his parents for dinner a couple of nights. Still fine since I could make the omelet I had listed as a possibility. And, saving grace, I had chicken in the slow cooker the night of my incredibly longer-than-usual P/T session last Thursday -- which meant I had time to scarf down half of my dinner before heading to the theater vs. not having ANYTHING to eat. Wasn't great, but was better than takeout (which...ahem...we don't really do these days).

So, what about your house? How do you handle the stress when you know it's gonna be a week from Hades? And are you a lister? What kind do you make? Are you like my mom -- whom we buy blank paper pads in bulk for, she makes so many lists?

Wardrobe

So, the show is going quite well (I've still got nerves about the start date, but I'm trying not to let it bog me down too much). Everything's been blocked, so now we're just to the "let's learn some lines and get used to our characters more" stage.

The only thing that's tripping me up right now? My costume.

It may not sound like it, but for an actor, your costume is a big deal. I've been a ton of different characters, so I've worn a kazillion different costumes. Young ingenue? Sure. Historical costume? Yep. Young up-and-coming 1940s singer? Yes, ugh (the costume, not the part). Nightgowns? Swimsuit? Blonde Roman courtesan outfit? Check, check, check. The dowdy maid? Twice (one British, one traditional American).

If your hair doesn't keep a curl (and you know full well that it's drooping by the end of the first act), it hits you emotionally that you're not "the character" enough. If your belt can't be adjusted and you can't get enough breath support for your songs, well, that's just painful...but also affects the character. If you're not historically accurate enough? Again...affects the character. It's those details that help you pull the person you are and the person you're trying to be/create together; it gives you a relationship, which then can (hopefully) translate to the audience.

At our theater (as with most community theaters, I assume), actors are generally in charge of their own costumes. In a few shows, we've had a seamstress or two either make our costumes or adjust -- like the black number I wore in "Murder in Bogart's Shadow" which was sewn to fit my body then adjusted further the week of opening (I couldn't have committed the murder; where on earth would I have hid the gun? Logical explanation. I prayed for zero water weight.) -- but, for the most part, we're on our own.

ILT's attic (second floor; it used to be the stables of a very rich fellow) is part scenery and props, part messy wardrobe. People have donated tons of outfits over the years, and the ones we've purchased (oftentimes at Goodwill or Salvation Army) also end up up there. The racks are overflowing and the odds of finding the perfect outfit that a) fits and b) works for your character is maybe 1 in 10...depending on your character. (I find myself looking at plays and thinking, "Oh! We already have the 1940s gowns for this!" We have furs and gorgeous old dresses that will most likely never see the light of day again; plays aren't written for such elaborate scenes anymore.)

Usually, I find costuming the "fun part" of a show. The easy part. Even for the three-person show I did years back in which I had something like six costume changes, all in '60s costumes, I had a blast looking through antique stores and thrift shops up and down the east coast with my mom (and stepdad, who tagged along). Sometimes I'll find something upstairs; sometimes at Salvation Army; lately, I've found the right thing in my own closet. For this show, though, I couldn't even wrap my head around what my character would wear.

See, she's got a few character traits (and actions onstage) that imply what she should wear, but I'm over-thinking things thanks to my own personal experiences. Silly lady. Here's who she is:

1) She's a naive kindergarten teacher from Buffalo.
2) First time in NYC (she's there with her playwright fiance as his show gets prepared for Broadway) and is meeting her all-time favorite star (who's doing the show).
3) She likes to cross-stitch. (Yep.)
4) It takes place in modern day. MODERN DAY, folks.
5) I don't want to give too much away, but in our show, she passes out cold and gets splayed across a table...so...yeah. 

6) She mentions shopping at JC Penney.

I asked for opinions on Facebook and got some great responses that have at least got my brain juices a-bubblin'. Ew, that sounds gross.

The thing that keeps tripping me up...well, THINGS...are that a) I know lots of kindergarten teachers (and you might as well switch it to "librarian" -- which I am) and we don't dress like a church marm these days, and b) we live in upstate and we don't dress too darn outdated. (I'm still surprised at how unstylish so many New Yorkers sometimes are when we visit.)

And the only pictures I see of Arlene online are quite outdated (well, she LOOKS outdated; it's a relatively new show, so it's just how other folks have costumed her) -- and most of the time she's wearing a skirt. I just have this ultimate fear of "fainting" and giving an extra show. But, then, it's not the first time such a thing has been worried about, be it me or another thousand actresses.

So, here are a few boards I worked up for Arlene. All is clearly negotiable. I'd like her to look, ultimately, sweet + a little ymodern...since that's what she is.

***Oh, and if I knew I'd be meeting my HERO (*ahem* Peter Tork *ahem*), I would definitely wear a trendier outfit. Just sayin'.***

(Read in schmultzy 1950s male voice...since men had a major interest in fashion in the 50s...?)

First, we have the "demure" (read: kinda boring) black jumper-over-white-tee look. It's accompanied by adorable black flats (since our actress tends to tower over the gentlemen onstage if not for flats) that scream, "I don't want to be noticed." Optional (unseen) cardigan available for pop of color...if that's your sort of thing.

Option #2 screams "I want to be a soccer mom someday!" With just the right amount of drab-and-pastel color, it reads "blends just enough in with the scenery" while being present when need-be. Metallic flats (and accompanying cross-stitch tote) let the viewer know that she's got a wild, artistic side just screaming to get out.

(Totally kidding. I'd wear this to school. *sigh*)

Option #3 is flirty yet innocent in that "kindergarten teacher" sort of way...with just enough "I might get to see up her skirt" excitement for any creepy audience members. (Plus, there might just be a dress that could be similar to this in the attic. Um, score?)

Say "hello!" to the 21st century, Arlene! This is just a thought for taking her into a more modern costume -- I already have similar shoes and skinny jeans, but a cute tunic would cover things up a bit. (The one on the right is particularly innocent-looking.)

This is all, of course, just for fun. I don't really mind any of these options (except maybe that first one. It's so harsh and nun-like); I just need some help deciding which direction to go. And, heck, I'm sure we could mix elements of all of these together and get fine costumes (I need two).

So, if you have an opinion, feel free to share it! I'm all ears...er...yeah.

Scripted Wordless Wednesday

I can see that the ever-popular "Wordless Wednesday" blog posts so rampant in the blogosphere will be a best friend over the next few weeks. It isn't that I don't want to write; I simply haven't much time or energy with rehearsals and toddler-parenting and life. So, to use a photo to give some insight onto my goings-on is a quick, thousand-word way of letting you know what's up.

And, of COURSE, it's of a script.

That's what happens when you do a show; it's with you everywhere you go. For superstitious me (Irish actor? Double threat...), I can't go any place without my script. If there is ANY chance to look over half a page of lines, I'll take it. But even when I know full well that I won't have a spare moment to glance at it (this picture was taken after a full day of work where, needless to say, I didn't look it over), I can't be without it until the show is over.

Even when we've done a couple of performances and we know we've got things handled, it'll drive me insane to know that my script is lying backstage there. Lonely. Not being used. (It's happened.) My superstitious side also says that I've jinxed myself if I seem so aware of my lines that (gasp) I don't even need to take my script home. I will inevitably go blank onstage. Again, it's happened.

But, as crazy as this all sounds, I've mellowed. I used to sleep with the book under my pillow (particularly for one of my favorite shows, a 3-person one with lots of lines to memorize). 

I know this is Wordless Wednesday, but do you really expect me to play by the rules? AND shut up? Good luck with that. ;-)

Any wordless things going on with you?

Don't Talk to Meg, Acting Out

Once again finding my brain unable to formulate the words to do Grandpa justice, but trying to get back to living life with him in my head and heart. So...now for something completely different.

For the first time since having Hadley, I'm taking on an honest-to-goodness local acting role. That means it has been since around...hmm...the November before he was born...carry the one...a frickin' while. A frickin' while since I've tread the boards or learned a butt load of lines or tried to be anyone but "Mama." Over two years.

Since I'm looking at this experience with new, dare I say baby-like eyes (as much as someone who's been in a good number of shows can), I thought I'd give a teensy bit of vague insight into the goings-on behind-the-scenes. Nothing enough to piss off the fellow actors, but maybe something of interest.

We had our first read-through (well, the only read-through, but whatever) last Friday night. I always go into these things calmly; it's never as bad or as great as your mind makes them out to be. There's generally a varied mix of "yay! So-and-so is in this show!! Fun!!" and "Crrrrrap, we only have 5 weeks." Um, yeah, that'll be the worst part. Not sure I've been in a show that took less than 6 weeks to prepare. Should be interesting.

That said, I've also never laughed so hard at a read-through in. My. Life. The show, "Don't Talk to the Actors", is quite new for our theater (written in 2009), so the comedy is incredibly fresh and easy to follow...and borderline trashy. Okay, okay, it's not one to take the kiddies to. But, GOD, it's good.

The story follows a brand new, naive playwright and his fiancée (me, an also-naive, cross-stitching kindergarten teacher) as he sees his play rehearsed for the first time for an eventual Broadway audience. The two aging actors are well-known in different capacities and both cantankerous in their own hysterical ways. Let's just say my character is smitten with the older male actor due to his earlier stint on TV (I can relate, having obsessively crushed on several very random older TV guys as a kid). 

Before opinions start to arise, the director urges my fiancé not to listen to the actors (who will attempt to change his work and, as predicted, do). Some hilarious scenes and surprises pop up, and overall should be a great night of entertainment for our audiences (and hopefully for the cast, as well).

I was on the fence about going for a part. I read up a bit about the show, but once Grandpa died I thought, "Well, I'll just wait for next season." Auditions overlapped with his wake and preparations, so I wasn't optimistic.

Then, as often happens in community theater, the awesome director (one reason I decided to pursue it -- I've never worked with him and he's just a wonderful guy and performer) posted on the theater's Facebook page that they were still looking for the younger female role. On a whim, I offered my services and the rest is, as they say, history.

Acting out once again.

I'm grateful to have a week off next week and hope to learn a crap load of my lines (if my aging brain can take it).

Now, to find some ironic cross-stitch that I can work on onstage but actually use later to remember the show by - you know the kind I mean, right?

And what the heck does one wear to show a modern-day naive kindergarten teacher from Buffalo? ...Asks the school librarian from Upstate NY.