Pass the Whine and pour the Schmaltz
From my letter to Mark, who did (yaaaay!) get a job, at last.
Wasting time, wasting time....not to seem Scroogey, but do you think all the muss and fuss over the holidays is kind of, well, empty effort? My kids are all peevish because we don't have lights up in the yard. I'm peevish because I spent two hours putting lights on the tree. Actually, the lights are quite pretty, and to be fair, I didn't have to put the tree together. Hawk, on a rare afternoon home, did that. He's been gone so much this month, I think we've maybe had a total of 48 hours together. And I haven't done any (I mean ANY) shopping for the kids, how could I? Maybe tomorrow night. My mom planned to keep them overnight while I had a gig, but the gig tanked, and now I have the night off, sans pay, of course.
I had a disasterous time at WalMart. No, I am being overly dramatic, but I'm good at that. In the scheme of fiascos, it was rather minor, but here's the long story:
I took two disposable cameras in for one hour, double print, CD developing. I shopped, waiting for the prints, etc., choosing from WalMart assorted items such as milk and eggs and bath tissue and a tree-top angel. I opt to pay for these items and feed the children McDonalds food, then pick up the prints. It is six-fifteen when I go to pick up my photos. Plenty of time to pick up and pay, drop the milk and eggs at home, and get to FPCT, right? Sure.
They had mixed up some sweet old thing's prints with mine, showing some ceremony or other, and lots of ancient girlfriends. The second set was fine, but by the time the girl gave up searching, having determined that someone had picked up film and hadn't checked to see if it was right or not, it was ten of seven. Demoralized and near tears, I headed home, determined to use the time I'd have spent at the BPF meeting on writing.
I wanted those pictures so badly because I make calendars for gifts. And this year, I'm late, because with these injuries (although uncasted, I am far from healed) I am incredibly slow, plus I tire very easily (another reason I didn't look forward to a long walk from whatever distant desert I managed to park in to the theater). So I was counting on getting to Staples tomorrow afternoon, making good use of the time I would have been gigging. I probably overreacted, but it's like this: where ever I go, there I am. And overreacting is pretty standard behavior for me, especially this time of month. Wah for me, right? Get over it, woman. I hate being snarky.
Still, the story has a happy ending. I was helping the kids with schoolwork, and got a call: the woman who took my prints came back! So I packed the kids up for a return trip to WalMart, and got my photos. And the really nice bit was that because of the mixup, they gave to me free all the prints and etcetera, thirty or so dollars' worth, which I turned around and used to buy those damned lights for the fake tree.
Okay. I'm all whined out now.
I am curious to know what went on tonight. I would welcome Bob of Spots as BPF Chairman for a year, and I think he'd like to do it, too. But we shall see what was decided...if anything. If there wasn't a quorum, there wasn't an official meeting. I really DID want to go, if for nothing other than to pick up some scripts to read. Got to choose a show for the summer, and I haven't read ANY scripts. By this time last year, I'd plowed through about twenty. I didn't find Mike's wonderful script until late January, and laughed out loud at it, and brought it straight to Wayne (Shipley, executive director of the Arts Center, whose stamp of approval must be given to ANY theatrical venture), worrying about technical problems. I was so happy to have For The Return of Albion in our theater, though I think that Noel and company were unhappy to be there. The Center is not at all like Spots or FPCT or any of the other spaces the BPF encompasses. Whole other kettle of fish.
Congratulations on finishing Act I!!! So what do you do, open HALF a bottle of champagne? Don't worry about the title until the play's done, silly. You can't fully describe a half-finished work.
I DO think you're sappy, but not due to commercialized love-thy-neighbor crap. I think you are a sweet natured human who has maturity and insight enough to realize that even troubles are often blessings wrapped in brown paper. And I am honored to be thought of as a gift. The feeling is, of course, mutual.