Sha-Sha-Sha-Shoes

Let me tell you a little story about today.  The Stage Director emailed everyone: 'Whatever shoes you are wearing for the performance you will wear every day this week'.  So I had to go out and buy a pair of shoes.  I think I'm the only 30-something woman in the world who does not own a basic black pump.  I own a pair of sexy stiletto slingbacks that make me 6'2'', clogs, boots, sandals and tennis shoes.  And that's it.  So, off I go a-shopping into the great metropolis.

New York, unlike LA, is chock full of shoe stores that have row upon row of high-end, well designed, ergonomically and spinally correct shoes.   And the owners of these stores know who they are selling to-- and so also stock the stores with handsome (but not overly so) men over 40, who will gallantly bring you your shoes, put a stocking on your foot, slide the shoe ever so delicately over your toes, grasping your heel to guarantee a snug fit -- in a word, foot flirtation. 

I confess, I enjoyed every minute of it.  It was a hot day,  I was tired, and so to leisurely sit in a chair while my man J.C. ran around suggesting and comparing the relative attractiveness, quality and comfort of several different pairs of heels while slipping stockings on my feet and talking to me about the Yankees was pure delight.   On top of that, I even got to play the part of best girlfriend advisor to an older Jewish lady who was having ever so much trouble picking something to go with her sundresses for the summer.  

I settled on these little ladies.   I know they don't look like much, but what's really sexy about them is how comfortable and well made they are, and how they were 75% off!

Marcellina, Part III

Holy Moses.  I am so tired.  Did I realize how much freaking work Opera was going to be?  Heck no.  Performance of Nozze is one week away, and I will basically do nothing but eat, sleep and drink Mozart (and maybe one or two beers) for the rest of the week.  Which will make it the third week in a row.

So that's the reason I haven't posted.  If I had posted it would have been the 'Oh Crap!  I'm fired' freakout I had at least three times in the past week, which would have been followed up with 'Phew! Not fired!'.  The most recent occurrence of this pattern was on Thursday this week, when the Musical Director said he was worried about me in front of everyone.  Which was followed by a major anxiety attack, a great night of not sleeping and questioning my existence, which was then followed on Friday morning with a very rigorous coaching, a clear strategy set, and a lot of encouragement.  This guy has got my number-- scare the crap out of me so I'm listening and then tell me he believes in me.  I work really hard under these conditions, apparently.  I don't really want to know what that says about me.

All this to say, that I'm being inducted into the crazy world of performance personalities.  I'm also being humbled by the incredible talent that surrounds me-- some amazingly good voices in the group, and I'm honored to be among them.   Most of all, I'm learning how to focus, how to execute, and how to quiet all the voices that crop up at the most inconvenient times to derail any real work that's being done and lead tired, unwary me down paths of 'This is what always happens to me...', 'Why did I wait so long to do this? I'm so behind'.  Blah blah blah.

And for that, I have a book recommendation.  The book The Inner Game of Tennis was recommended to me by two different people within a day of each other, and so I grabbed the last copy at Barnes and Noble.  This book is subtitled The Classic Guide to Peak Mental Performance, and can be applied easily to any performance or competitive endeavor.  I honestly think that book saved my ass this week.

Can you say ass on a blog?  I guess we'll find out.   For those of you who pray out there and are kind enough to add me to your list, pray that I would run and not grow weary.   Muchas Gracias.

Poem: A Morning Offering

 I bless the night that nourished my heart
 To set the ghosts of longing free
 Into the flow and figure of dream
 That went to harvest from the dark
 Bread for the hunger no one sees.

 All that is eternal in me
 Welcome the wonder of this day,
 The field of brightness it creates
 Offering time for each thing
 To arise and illuminate.

 I place on the altar of dawn:
 The quiet loyalty of breath,
 The tent of thought where I shelter,
 Wave of desire I am shore to
 And all beauty drawn to the eye.

 May my mind come alive today
 To the invisible geography
 That invites me to new frontiers,
 To break the dead shell of yesterdays,
 To risk being disturbed and changed.

 May I have the courage today
 To live the life that I would love,
 To postpone my dream no longer
 But do at last what I came here for
And waste my heart on fear no more.

John Donahue
 (To Bless the Space Between Us)

Marcellina, Part II

So, table read was last night.  When Figaro started the show counting in English instead of Italian, I knew I was home free.  I thought we were going to read the entire show in Italian, which would have made me extremely self-conscious.  Instead, I got to relax and bring the funny.

Marcellina is referred to as an old bat several times in the show, and I'm curious to know how I'm going to play that without the aid of makeup, a fat suit, or a costume that I can hide in.  This will be a minimalist/black box production with no money for any trimmings.  Still, its an opportunity to see what I can bring to life through thoughtful character work.  A challenge.

The cast is fun and friendly, and I think everyone wants to have a good time and get a long.  No divas here, which is great.  And I want to bring a sense of generosity and joy to rehearsal each day.  That is my goal.  I also want to be so well prepared that I can enjoy the process and the people.  So far, so good.

Hot City in the Summertime

Newsflash: it's hot.  It was 90 degrees last night at midnight, but with the humidity it felt like 95.  At midnight.  I'm not so sure I like this part of New York life.  It is, however, an excellent excuse to eat a lot of ice cream. 

Good news:  Park across the street from my house has a ginormous pool.  And adult lap swim every night at 7 pm.  I've invested in a cap and goggles and am headed there tonight.  Maybe I will end up liking it so much that I'll do a triathlon by the end of the year!  Or maybe I'll just stay cool this summer.

Home for the weekend

One of the major pluses of being in NYC is that not only do I live in the same city as my brother, but I'm well within driving distance of my sister Monica in Richmond, VA and my parents, who live in western PA.

So when Monica went to my parents house for the week so her kids could attend VBS at our home church, and when my sister Dora dropped off her kids at Grandma and Grandpas last weekend while she and her husband moved into a new house, I got to go home and visit all my nephews at once.  A weekend of Thomas the Train, Bob the Builder (who knew there were so many different pieces of construction equipment!), swimming at the pool, playing at the playground, going for ice cream and settling disputes that frequently came up over a general reluctance to share. 

Best quote of the weekend:

Daniel, age 4, while walking to church:  Aunt Joanna, don't you love how the letter P is formed?

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