How Not to Get Directing Assignments

I've got stuff going on these days. I inherited directing the July show at Silver Spring Stage; we're moving Mom to Very Assisted Living*; I have a cat who would like to see me. You know - stuff going on. So I have finally either grown a little backbone or - at long last - finally developed some tiny bit of common sense about my calendar.

As I can't seem to think more than a few days ahead right now (and sometimes it's hour to hour), I have started jettisoning projects that require any attention from me before the end of July. The lovely and wonderful Mary Ann let me out of directing a children's show in the fall; the equally lovely and wonderful John picked up that show slot for me; Susan was very understanding about my unwillingness to commit to her one act; and etc.

Back at the beginning of May, I went to see a show that some friends were doing in the theater where another friend, Dave, is the theater manager. They had announced their next season, so I asked who was directing each of the three shows and it turned out that they had directors chosen for the later two but not the first one.

I joked "Well, just get Dave fired** and have him do it."

"Actually, he suggested you."

At that point I was still attached to Mary Ann's children show which would run at the same time, which gave me a reasonable excuse to say no, although the discussion continued through the evening. A couple of times, the very persuasive Chip nearly had me agreeing to direct both the children's show and his mainstage production.

So from now on, I think I'll keep a copy of this webcomic in my purse. Just in case.


* Or, as I like to think of it, "Why is my Mother a prisoner in her room just because she uses a wheelchair? Living." More on that some time soon.

** Facility Conflict of Interest rules prevent him from working on shows while employed there.***

*** Which is, in itself, rather a pity, as he is a very good director.

(Note especially the text in the second frame, as Mary Ann once confirmed to me that she regards "No! Stop! Get away from me! I have a restraining order and a gun!" as a maybe. Producers for Children's Theater need to be that way.)

From Basic Instructions, Your all-inclusive guide to a life well-lived by Scott Meyer. (Used with permission - thanks, Scott!)

A lovely view from up here

"Where a goat can go, a man can go; and where a man can go, he can drag a gun"
- Maj. Gen. William Phillips, as his men brought cannon to the top of Mt. Defiance in 1777

On Friday I got a nice e-mail from Brett saying that he and son Charles would be hiking Section A of the Billy Goat Trail on Saturday morning and would David and I like to go? David was nursing a case of the sniffles, but I was free and so I rounded up my hiking shoes and we met up at the Visitor's Center.

In general, the best way to get me to do something is to make the information about the activity available and then assume that I won't actually look things up or figure out what I'm getting myself in for.

Like, for instance, that time we were at DisneyWorld and - as I hadn't read up on any of rides, a rather interesting choice for someone who is afraid of heights and has a poor sense of balance - I wandered blithely past the sign saying how tall, how not pregnant, and how free of heart conditions one must be to go on the ride. In fact, I believe that my exact comment as I sashayed by was "Oh, I'm definitely that tall. I'm more than that tall." La, la, la.

And just as I realized that I was in line for a roller coaster and started to try to figure out how to get out of line, Brett, Stacey, and John started telling me that we were in line for the Happy Train to Mickey's Birthday Land or something. I'm not all that bright sometimes, so even that didn't actually cause me to realize what was up. Or rather, way up. And once I did, they just hustled me on board cheerfully talking over my pitiful cries for help.

Not that the DislandWorld folks were going to rush to my rescue; they found the whole thing hilarious. Humphf. I am so put upon.

So anyway, yeah, all I knew when I signed on was that Brett would be there and Charles and that we would be outside on what was supposed to be a beautiful day.* So I followed the link that Brett sent and confirmed that, yep, the visitors' center was the one that I was thinking it was, and went on about my business. I suspect that Brett could invite me to spend six months with his family in a bathysphere**, send me the plans for the vehicle and a list of necessary supplies and health warnings and my brain would file it thus: Brett! Charles! Cate! Something about the beach!

Cate, sadly, couldn't join us this time because she would rather scrub floors than go hiking with me.***

So on Saturday, we met up at the visitor's center and set off on our hike. The first part, which is, well, which is the tow path is very easy. Then the trail breaks right and we leave what's pretty much a semi-paved road and start scrambling over little rocks. No sweat, I can do this. Just keep alert so that I don't turn an ankle and I'll be fine. Heck, this is probably good for my knees! La, la, la.

Then the rocks started to get bigger. To turn into boulders, actually. Around this time, Charles started scrambling up them and announcing how easy they were, which was almost precisely not what I was thinking. The boulders looked like this:


Around the time that the boulders were getting big enough to make me hope that Section A is a loop and that I wouldn't have to meet these rocks coming back the other way, we came round a bit of trail and I saw this:



The Wikipedia caption for the photo calls it the "Billy Goat Trail Cliff." After I got to the top of it, I named it the Cliffs of Insanity**** and began to hope in earnest that we were on a loop. We were and the Cliffs of Insanity was the most "strenuous" part of the trip.

And as I got used to scrambling I got better at it. Not great, but better. I stopped overthinking every step and just took them. And I started treating the relatively flat tops of the boulders more like sidewalks and less like tightropes. It's possible that I am the only person who noticed this blossoming surefootedness, but it still made me feel better.

Especially as while Brett is one of the best people you can have at your side for this sort of thing - supportive, non-judgmental, patient - Charles is, after all, ten years old and being better at things than adults is like getting two desserts and no green vegetables for dinner. So it made him pretty happy to tell me about every blaze he beat me to (most of them) and every rock he climbed better than I did (prett' near all of them).

At one point he was outlining his system for continuing to destroy me, blaze-wise, and I pointed out to Brett that Charles seemed to follow the example of the sort of criminals that Batman always sends back to prison because they'd rather talk about their plan than actually kill Batman. "Yep," agreed Brett, "he's a monologuer." Of course, your average Batman villain stands more or less in place while monologuing and Charles can do it while scampering up a boulder pile in a way that reminds you why both children and young goats are called kids.

I will be revenged, however. Some day Charles and I will be lost in the trackless desert or shipwrecked or something and my contribution will be to smirk and say "Oh, you're so smart -- you get us home" and then go back to reading whatever script was in my purse when the disaster happened. I'm kind of looking forward to this, actually. The best revenge is revenge against harmless small children. (The next best revenge is when someone who is always right - and I know many of them - has to admit in front of other people that you were right and they were wrong. This happens far less often that I would like.)

Anyway, after our exhilarating hike - and it was, I worked up a bit of a sweat and definitely met my target heart rate at least once - we walked back to the car and headed off for a nice lunch with ice cream for dessert. I was also able to give Brett the box of Girl Scout Cookies I had bought for him, which made us both happy.

And I have a picture of the Cliffs of Insanity taped to my hutch at work to remind me that I actually climbed those rocks. And lived to tell the tale.


*It was a beautiful day, just as advertised. Don't worry - this isn't some kind of foreshadowing.

**I'm also not really a fan of small, enclosed underwater spaces.

***Truthfully, she had a prior commitment to help with some pre-Easter Spring cleaning at her church, but that's not what Brett said. Not does it make the best story.

**** I know, not very original, but it seemed pretty accurate to me.

The Plan

Everyone
Everyone
Read about it
Read about it
Read it in the books in the crannies
And the nooks there are books to read

Tears for Fears, Sowing the Seeds of Love

There is a stack of books on my bedside table (surprised? Didn't think so.) and as I don't have rehearsal or social plans for this evening I intend to make myself a dinner that has nothing to do with a drive-through and spend the evening drinking real tea, reading books, and watching stupid television. Sit-coms and books. Real books - not scripts. I think I'll lean in the direction of the frivolous books first.

Of course, last week was supposed to filled with dinner dates, two of which got rain checked.* But I'm long over due for some spend-an-evening-at-home-with-the-cat" time so no rescheduling for me.


* Oddly enough - or not so oddly, I guess it is the obvious witticism - both people phrased their re-schedule request the same way: "Can I get a raincheck? It is raining."

In case you were wondering

Okay, here's why David and I won't be getting married any time soon.

You know how every couple has an "our" thing? "Our song," "our restaurant," "our hot sheets motel," stuff like that. Well, David and I have "our color."

When my life became color coded, David's color became orange (because, as my friend Laura says, orange is a happy color and because David's mobile phone is orange). At work, even e-mail he sends me is orange. And our plans with each other on either of our calendars is orange. So if we got married - you know, had a wedding and stuff - we'd pretty much have to have "our color" in the wedding.

And I'm not spending the rest of my life telling people that the colors for my wedding were Sunkist and Tropicana.

Europe in DC

Because I'm between shows, I have no plans tomorrow, so I'm taking the Metro to Europe! No, no, I haven't been drinking at my desk. The European Union is having an Embassies' Open House on Saturday so I'll take the Metro to Dupont Circle and ride their special shuttle around to the different embassies, tour their buildings, taste their food, listen to their music, and admire their dances. I think I'll skip having my face painted, though.

I'll go the Embassies of Ireland and Germany (the Brits aren't participating) as an homage to my European heritage, but then I'm hitting Bulgaria specifically for the food because I've never tried Bulgarian food and have no idea what it's like. If Maureen is able to join me we'll go to Hungary, I'm sure, and I'll like to check out several other countries I've always wanted to go to.

There's a "Passport Stamp Collection Area" and I'll see how many stamps I can get. It's tempting to bring my real passport, but they probably wouldn't stamp it, more's the pity.

And after I spend the day traipsing around "Europe," I'll spend the evening doing a very American thing - going with friends (John and Jeff and Amy) to see other friends (Andy, Chuck, and Susanna) in a musical based on a comic strip (by Charles Schultz). And probably eating dinner at a chain restaurant.

Yes, I'm free*

What could be a better combination for me than Gilbert & Sullivan performed at my high school? Especially when I found out that it's happening on a night when I can go. It's like one of those planetary alignments that only happen every thousand years.

Montgomery Blair High School, my alma mater of blessed memory, is performing Gilbert & Sullivan's The Pirates of Penzance this weekend and next. I don't know how it is that I am not otherwise committed, but I can go tonight. I've seen shows at Blair before because as an alum, it's my responsibility to go cheer on the next generation, just as it's my responsibility as a former girl scout to buy all those cookies. They make it easy on me by doing very watchable shows, even if I feel old and creaky while I do it. Why do I feel old and creaky? Because those kids all look about 12 years old, that's why. Some of them look 11.

And, yeah, it's high school theater, so there's a varying level of ability, but the costumes and sets are colorful and appropriate (see what I mean here) and the performers are energetic and charming. And for $8 I can guarantee you that I've paid more to see shows that aren't as good.

Some of these young actors are very good and I look forward to seeing more of them in the future - like when their Broadway shows tour through this area. Hmm... Maybe I should make sure to get some autographs tonight.


*To quote the (alas) late John Inman

Surfacing

Two tech weeks, back to back. A cat with medical problems. Lots of work at work. Let's just say that it hasn't been a very quiet time in my own personal Lake Woebegone. Phone calls have gone unreturned, ditto a fair bit of e-mail. Scheduled activities have been pushed around and rescheduled. My home grows ever filthier.

But there is light at the end of the tunnel. "The Emperor's New Clothes" opened on the 5th, so I stopped driving to Herndon for those rehearsals. And "The Cocktail Hour" opened on the 11th, This coming week is still action-packed, but I think I'll actually be home on Wednesday to watch "Law and Order." David and I get to go to a movie tonight.

And there was great rejoicing.


PS - And I still can't sleep.