Another Excuse to Go Shopping. Like I Needed One.

We are finishing up our sixth week of rehearsals for Cabaret, and so far I have learned a number of things.

First and foremost, I've learned that I love this, and I love it because it's fun. It's, like, a whole hell of a lot of fun. Now, I'd hoped that it would be fun, and I suspected--after the surprisingly pleasant audition experience in December--that it would, indeed, be fun. But I'm still getting used to how much of a good time I'm having, all the while knowing that it's not easy (at least, not for me). I love the warm ups, the rehearsals, the seemingly incongruous preciseness and creativity of the process, the singing, the notes--all of it. I never thought that I would find something other than teaching and writing that I knew was work, but was still a really enjoyable kind of work.

Four of my cast-mates and I ran lines last week at a chocolate shop. I hated it. It was awful.

More of the cast, working...

...working...

...and eating cupcakes, which absolutely counts as working.

Another thing I've learned is that Roo is unimpressed by me. Totally bored of me, truth be told. I try to get her to run lines with me and give me feedback on my dance routine. I use our vigorous mid-day walks to practice singing with breath control (simultaneously singing and dancing has been my biggest challenge [because I am...um...not as young or as fit as our amazing Kit Kat girls. And we'll just leave it there]). But Roo just sort of ignores me and turns her attention to squirrels, sticks, and post-walk rug-rolls.

I'm going to nap now. Go away.

I've also learned that in the time it takes me to clean (really scrub the hell out of) our three piece bathroom, I can get through the full Cabaret soundtrack; but I need the bonus tracks on the original Broadway recording if I'm going to clean the half-bath, too.

I have learned that I only need the barest possible excuse to go shopping; I have used this play to shop for various legwear (tights, leggings, pantyhose), make-up (glitter eyeliner, false eyelashes), and green nail polish.

If someone should ask me why I think it's pretty, "I think it's pretty," that's what I reply.

Now to be fair, before this play, I already owned four bottles of green polish. So it's just three new bottles. That's not so many. Right? (please say "Right.")

And finally, I've learned that this is going to be one kick-ass show.

 

It's a good show right now. But we have two more weeks of run-throughs, techs, and dress rehearsals, and we start with the full band next week in addition to our amazing pianist, Julie. So by opening night (Thursday March 6--get some tickets, why don't you?) we will be ready to knock your socks off. And not even your proverbial socks. Your literal wooly footwear. Get ready.

Get your tickets now! Like, NOW.

Bo-ling

This past Christmas, I struggled with what to get my nephew Bo. As an only grandchild of four doting grandparents, one doting aunt, and about one thousand additional doting Italian and Greek relatives, Bosco has just about every block, car, thingamabob, and whoseitwhatsit known to mankind. So what do you get the kid who has ev-er-y-thing?

My solution: dates with me, his favorite aunt! (okay, okay, only aunt)

I came up with about a dozen Bo-appropriate outings: eating pancakes, going to LEGOLand, sleeping over at Camp Crystal Lake for fun with his cousin Roo, getting his first tattoo (just kidding, Paula! [Greg, let me know when it's okay to do this]). And today was our bowling date--and it was Bo's very first time bowling!


Greg, Paula, Bo, and I headed over to Waveland Bowl, which is where my league (it's Greg and Paula's league, too) spend their wintery Monday nights. I'm missing my bowling chums this year (read about my amazing teammates here), so it was so nice to spend time at the lanes with three of my favorite Borks.

Now, I will preface this by saying that Bo did great--he bowled a 50, and that's terrific for his first time. But, his first roll wasn't exactly a success:

He recovered quickly with some moral support from mom and dad:

Mom, is this the heaviest? I want the heaviest, please.

Yep, that works.

Dad, you're in my way.

I get another roll? This is a great game!

My ball is not fast-moving. Let's sit down to watch it roll down the lane.

Auntie Laura, it's my turn! I have to bowl!

After our game (and yes, Greg won--he beat me by two stinking points. It's against his DNA to come in second), we spent some time in the arcade, got a balloon sword, and then went to Wendy's for Frosties and french fries: the lunch of bowling champions. On our way home, we had a silly face contest. Bo won.

Hi!

All right, we're done.

Our next date will be in March--our spring breaks line up, so we might go hang out at the park, the art studio, or, um, the tattoo parlor. Whatever.