You know when you have so many things buzzing around in your head that none of them gain primacy and you just wander around aimlessly muttering half-sentences under your breath and people slide you quizzical looks under beetled brows as you toss idea after idea after idea in an attempt to either a) find some sort of overriding theme to link everything together, or, barring that, b) put your thoughts in order, rid yourself of the pointless ones, and begin at a logical beginning-like place?
Well, that doesn't happen to me. No, I don't mutter things like that under my breath. I just say them right out while staring off into the world only I can see. And people don't slide strange glances at me, they tell me flat that I'm freaking them out. And those are the people who love me. I don't even want to relate what the people who don't love me do.
So now you know what state of mind I'm in. Let's see if we can get through this together, shall we?
Plimco would be so proud.
Last night Kristin and I got out of the house sans baby and attended a grown up event. A musical. At a real theater. Not a high school. There were tickets and everything. That's right, we got ourselves some Culture. And don't let the fact that the actors pulled us out of our seats and made us limbo across the stage convince you otherwise. CULTURE. Honest to god. And we didn't even have to pay for it. Kristin's got a good friend who's exhibiting his paintings in the Loggia Gallery there and he got comp tickets and insisted we go.
Let me tell you, "Five Guys Named Moe" is not a musical I would have gone to see on my own. Yeah, I like musical theater, and yeah, I like Jazz. But the romantic problems of a straight man are just not my cup of tea -- especially if there isn't some hot chick I can drool over and (not so) secretly spend the show/movie hoping that she will realize that she's a lesbian and leave the bumbling loser to get it on with the supporting actress. And I really have to tell you that the first few songs were hard to sit through. Kristin and I kept looking at each other wondering what we were still doing in our seats. No hot chicks, and a song that gets its laughs through the idea that anyone could find a fat woman sexy. But eventually the Five Guys Named Moe started making their point and we relaxed and got into the show.
And it was pretty fun. The best part was the Band Conductor (there was no orchestra, just a jazz ensemble) he was just so into the show, up there dancing around and snapping his fingers and directing the band with enthusiastic swoops of the arms. It was just such a blast to watch him. And it was so damn fine to go to a musical and not wince at the music (for a while my sister was into community theater and I got to see a lot of Bad Musicals. There was memorably sharp trumpet that gave me an honest-to-god migraine). So yeah, we had a good time and we'd like to do it again. And next year's line up looks so awesome (Chicago, Les Mis, Pride and Prejudice) that Kristin and I are considering springing for season tickets. The cheapest season tickets. $70 for the 7 production season. In the upper balcony rows RR-ZZ. During intermission we high-tailed it up there to see what the view is like and decided that as long as I've taken my anti-vertigo meds that those seats should be fine. And an usher overheard our conversation and thanked us for considering season tickets. Huh. She thanked us for thinking about buying something. They must be pretty hard up for season ticket holders.
Lauri and Benji are here, right now, sleeping in my house. Maybe even showering in the shower that I threw up in Sunday night. And my house is a disaster. More than just the construction. We didn't do any of our regular maintenance cleaning over the weekend and we haven't gotten to it since. Dishes undone. Stray puppies and kittens unvacuumed up from the carpets. Laundry laying around waiting to be folded or washed. Muddy pawprints on leather furniture. The evidence that one of our pets vomited on the sisal rug and that another of our pets ate said vomit. Clutter, clutter, clutter. Dust and more dust. And THEN the construction. And, I'm not sure because I'm really congested right now, but there might even be a mysterious smell. I'll have to ask them later. Maybe they'll comment from the dark recesses of my basement and update you all on the possible smell.
Can I tell you how much I HATE the new phone system at my work?
The Scheherazade Project: so far there seems to be interest but also trepidation. I am getting more and more into the idea. And so far it seems that most everyone would like a theme. Cali mentioned the idea that the story could be a group project, but I tried one of those in December and none of the people that I passed the story on to continued it and I was sad. I'm not dropping that idea, though, and I'm thinking that maybe a few weeks into the experiment we could give it a try. And if any people want to try it on their own, please go for it! I'm going to be thinking up our first theme...
Finally, I had a doctor's appointment yesterday that I was very nervous about, but that went very well.