As already noted, it's been years since I've posted to this blog. In my subhead, I threaten the possibility of theater news. Starting with the most recent:
- I begin rehearsals for LES LIAISONS DANGEREUSES this weekend. I'm playing Madame de Rosemonde, Valmont's 84-year-old aunt.
- In 2014, I had the pleasure of playing Sister Aloysius Beauvier in DOUBT (at the same theater where I'll do LES LIAISONS). I followed that with Felicity Thomas in THE SHADOWBOX, a performance which many of my friends found very moving. I'll admit it - I was surprised. I spent the entire performance in a wheelchair and I wasn't sure if I was getting the point across, given that limitation.
- 2013 brought me Margaret Sullivan in DRACULA, which was a delightfully fun experience. So was my second outing as The Reverend Mother in NUNSENSE.
- 2012: Monica Breedlove in BAD SEED, as well as Mrs. Paroo in THE MUSIC MAN and Rose Zigowski in BLEACHER BUMS.
I look forward to LES LIAISONS, especially after an involuntary six months off!
Wednesday, December 31, 2014
Well, Then....
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Come On, March 9
What's so exciting about March 9?
That's the date the Hub & I report to Phillies Spring Training!
We started attending Spring Training in 2005. We opted to get married in March just so we could go to Clearwater for part of our honeymoon. We also went to Disney World, but guess which of the two locales we return to annually?
There is nothing in the world quite like Phillies Spring Training. For six weeks starting in late February, Phillies fans descend on the small town of Clearwater, FL and make it their own. As for the games themselves...if I'm being honest, I barely remember most of them. I'm too busy holding court at Bright House Field's Tiki Bar, laughing with my "Florida friends" and partying like I'm half my (advanced) age.
So...come on, March 9!
That's the date the Hub & I report to Phillies Spring Training!
We started attending Spring Training in 2005. We opted to get married in March just so we could go to Clearwater for part of our honeymoon. We also went to Disney World, but guess which of the two locales we return to annually?
There is nothing in the world quite like Phillies Spring Training. For six weeks starting in late February, Phillies fans descend on the small town of Clearwater, FL and make it their own. As for the games themselves...if I'm being honest, I barely remember most of them. I'm too busy holding court at Bright House Field's Tiki Bar, laughing with my "Florida friends" and partying like I'm half my (advanced) age.
So...come on, March 9!
Monday, February 14, 2011
What in hell are you supposed to do...
I dunno. Maybe just my lightning-fast typing is good enough...hopefully no one notices that I'm writing in my blog-I-never-wanted-to-begin-with.
Soooo...*taptaptap*
I saw a friend's production of Gypsy Saturday night. Friend actually beat me to the finish line for this role; I've been wrestling with the envy and the self-esteem damage ever since. I've also been wrestling with the knowledge that this was my last shot at Mama Rose. I'm too old to play her, now.
But Friend surely deserved the gig. She was terrific. All I have to do now is get past the other stages of grief and make it to acceptance.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Drive Time
During a recent discussion of first cars, during which I noted my mother had purchased mine for me, a friend said, "My parents would never have bought me a car."
My mother didn’t have a choice. She never learned to drive. My dad fell ill in 1976. This meant I had to learn to drive, which took me a year and three teachers (including one professional instructor, who probably gave up his career as a result). When I finally got my license, we had no automobile, for reasons I frankly can't remember. I don’t recall what happened to my dad’s car. Maybe my mom sold it? (My dad’s illness resulted in his becoming a paraplegic and an amputee – I guess, having lost a leg, he was a uniplegic?)
Anyway, once I had the license in 1977, my mother bought me a 1968 Dodge Monaco, which I named "Auntie Griselda" after an old Monkees tune. And which I totaled in about six months, when the brakes gave out. (I was lucky if I could start Griselda, most days; the irony is, I totaled the car because it wouldn’t stop.) We were then reliant on family, friends and public transportation until 1980, when my mother was able to buy another car, my beloved 1973 Nova.
Of course, the deal wasn’t just “here you go, honey have a blast.” In exchange for her providing the vehicle, I was Hoke to her Miss Daisy, including regular trips to Philadelphia’s version of the Piggly Wiggly (Acme). I also have a developmentally disabled sister, and I had to be available to drive her to her alma mater’s social events and stuff like that.
The Nova was more fun, though, and I relate it much more to my wild, misspent youth than my dutiful trips to the supermarket with Mom. I used to shoe-horn 9 people into the Nova for trips to Philadelphia's South Street. Three in front, four in back, two lap-sitters. Completely illegal. I had to have all of them keep me apprised of oncoming traffic; I couldn’t see a damned thing. We'd go see THE ROCKY HORROR PICTURE SHOW at TLA Cinema every weekend.
So, Mom, thanks. It was never a problem taking you to the market. I never had to beg Dad to let me use the car, like other teenagers, and maybe I should have had that experience. But I didn't, and you can't have everything.
My mother didn’t have a choice. She never learned to drive. My dad fell ill in 1976. This meant I had to learn to drive, which took me a year and three teachers (including one professional instructor, who probably gave up his career as a result). When I finally got my license, we had no automobile, for reasons I frankly can't remember. I don’t recall what happened to my dad’s car. Maybe my mom sold it? (My dad’s illness resulted in his becoming a paraplegic and an amputee – I guess, having lost a leg, he was a uniplegic?)
Anyway, once I had the license in 1977, my mother bought me a 1968 Dodge Monaco, which I named "Auntie Griselda" after an old Monkees tune. And which I totaled in about six months, when the brakes gave out. (I was lucky if I could start Griselda, most days; the irony is, I totaled the car because it wouldn’t stop.) We were then reliant on family, friends and public transportation until 1980, when my mother was able to buy another car, my beloved 1973 Nova.
Of course, the deal wasn’t just “here you go, honey have a blast.” In exchange for her providing the vehicle, I was Hoke to her Miss Daisy, including regular trips to Philadelphia’s version of the Piggly Wiggly (Acme). I also have a developmentally disabled sister, and I had to be available to drive her to her alma mater’s social events and stuff like that.
The Nova was more fun, though, and I relate it much more to my wild, misspent youth than my dutiful trips to the supermarket with Mom. I used to shoe-horn 9 people into the Nova for trips to Philadelphia's South Street. Three in front, four in back, two lap-sitters. Completely illegal. I had to have all of them keep me apprised of oncoming traffic; I couldn’t see a damned thing. We'd go see THE ROCKY HORROR PICTURE SHOW at TLA Cinema every weekend.
So, Mom, thanks. It was never a problem taking you to the market. I never had to beg Dad to let me use the car, like other teenagers, and maybe I should have had that experience. But I didn't, and you can't have everything.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
I just wanted to follow The Adventures of Buddah Pest...
But now, allofasudden I gotta blog. How'd that happen? That's why I named this "Blog? What Blog?" I'd no intentions of starting a blog, but now I gots one...so, we'll see how this goes, I guess.
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