"When I row on the varsity crew..."
“Mmmmmm, I was waiting for this moment,” said Corb, his blue eyes looking me up and down, beaming.
“What moment is that?” I asked, and reached deep inside.
“The moment that we finally have clean clothes,” he replied, grabbing a handful of clothing from the dryer, and pressing them to his nose. “I actually was running out of underwear. And that’s saying something.”
I continued to shovel hotburningmyhands shirts and towels into the white bag in front of me. Laundry day at Laundry World. What a blessed event. “It feels nice, doesn’t it?” I said. “No more play. Actual clean pants. Clean towels. Socks that didn’t come from off the floor.”
“Ewwwww. My socks didn’t come from off the floor.”
I grinned, mischievously. “Only once or twice, love. Just think, we haven’t done this since before Disney.”
We had just completed lugging three huge loads of laundry, the accumulation of weeks of neglect, into Corb’s new car and to the local laundromat. It was an all night job, but it needed to get done, particularly since I’m headed off for New Jersey tomorrow. Theater season ends, work travel season begins. It seems to be the way that it is.
Slowly but surely, the apartment is finally recovering from four months of rehearsals. The only thing left to do, after laundry, is the stack of bills that have yet to be sorted through, and the mounds of receipts that have yet to be recorded into my computer. That’ll happen Saturday.
And then, and only then, I can finally take a deep breath and take a look at the story I set aside, like an orphaned child, so many months ago.
So, end result?
Corb rates this last show slightly below Jekyll and Hyde, but ahead of Oklahoma, in terms of plays that I’ve directed. It’s nowhere near Kiss Me, Kate, in his opinion, but then, nothing ever will compare.
For me, I place it slightly on par with Kiss Me, Kate, and just below Jekyll and Hyde.
For me, it’s because of the level of challenge that I assumed. I took chances with this show, same as I did with Jekyll and Hyde. I recreated the script, reinvented characters, added in dialog that fit the time and the place and the moment of the production that we were crafting. This time, I didn’t rely on anyone’s vision except my own, and I negotiated 45 people on stage in a manner that surprised even me.
Oh, and then there’s “You’re the Top.” We’re making it into a video for You Tube, and I’ll be sure to share it, once it’s available. But that truly was the high point of the show for me. Taking the images referenced into the song and bringing them to life in the show in a new and completely different way, filled with puns and anachronisms. That to me was my proudest moment of the show.
That night, when that song all came together. That feeling of pure exhilaration. A flush to the face, a fist into the air. It’s something I don’t think I’ll ever forget.
So, big question, will I do it again? I just want to rest for a bit, frankly. But the group is contemplating Sweeney Todd next year, and it would be an awfully big challenges.
You know me, by now. I’m all about the challenges.
Tonight, Corb and I were in Subway, ordering supper. The lady behind the counter, who had a horrible toothless smile and a loud braying voice, asked, “What do you want on this sangwhich, sweetie?”
“Well, what do you have?” I asked.
“Well, lettuce and pickles, really. We’re out of olives, and of course, we don’t have any tomatoes. Can’t. FDA.”
“You could have cherry tomatoes,” pointed out the older man standing next to me.
“Nope. Don’t want to take a chance.”
“And you could buy tomatoes from certain countries or states,” I pointed out. “Only certain ones are at risk.”
“Nope. Don’t want to take a chance,” she repeated, like a polly and her cracker.
Isn't it funny? Only two hundred years ago, people were afraid to eat tomatoes, fearing that they were poisonous. What's old is new again.
I have the perfect headline for this whole ugly chapter in food history. “Attack of the Killer Tomatoes.”