Singing for my supper

When Yankeediva blogged about meeting a Bearded Collie, it inspired me to try and capture some new photos of our own Beardie. While he's now getting to be an elderly gentleman and no longer exudes the "bounce" so typical of the breed (read: "hairy couch potato", although since he's sporting his summer clip, too, he's a little less hairy than usual!), he still typifies their friendliness and loving nature.

Gladioli (and a dahlia) from the garden....

The dressing room situation for this most recent show was "basic" to say the least - one large room for all the women and, unlike larger theatres where every dressing room comprises what amounts to multiple walls of both full-length and lighted makeup mirrors, there were in fact no mirrors anywhere except those erected for the occasion by wig and makeup in their area, and a small mirror over the sink in the small, communal bathroom. Consequently, I never really caught sight of myself except in passing, and certainly not the constant reflection of my costumed self that I would have had sitting waiting for my entrances in a typical mirrored dressing room. It's only in looking at the photographs taken yesterday - and finally getting a chance to look at some of the production shots - that I realise how much I must normally be using those visual cues as part of The Process of preparing for a show, however subliminally. Now, don't get me wrong - I'm no "method

So, the ankle recovered enough to get through the performances with the help of some tightly wrapped sport tape, and I'm happy to say that the first two of the weekend's four shows went very well. We're finding a real "rhythm" for it - always one of the challenges with anything comedic, especially where the shape isn't entirely dictated by the music itself - and even with audiences of varying responsiveness, it's going well. That said, this last week has been harder than I expected. My husband was asked at the last minute to run a music camp, so he was completely off the scene busy with that, and our daughter had a week off from her own summer activities (while many of her friends were busy elsewhere) meaning that this was the "I'm boooorreeeeeedd" week where she didn't have enough to do and consequently wanted lots and lots of Mommy Time. Given that I was nursing my injury and not moving very fast, it was hot, and the prospect of

Ok, so not "broken". But following a delightful celebratory dinner with family after yesterday's matinee, we arrived home in a torrential downpour and I slipped on the wet front steps and sprained my ankle pretty badly. To add insult to injury, today I realised that my prescription sunglasses had also been damaged in the fall, broken beyond repair alas. (Thankfully, For Eyes - and yes, this is a plug for the company! - think they can get hold of another set of the frames, so we can just pop in my existing lenses rather than purchasing an entire new pair, at a savings of approximately $175 dollars! Here's hoping it works out...) I'm sure my clumsiness stemmed from the fatigue following a tiring tech week and two back-to-back performances, but it's still frustrating to be hobbling around and I of course have to ensure that I'm back in fighting trim by the next performance on Thursday! I'm hopeful that it will all work out but... what a way to spend

Yet another black dress, but at least this is a pretty one! They aged me up again with makeup and wig (I'm trying to remember the last time I didn't have to be wrinkly for a show - seems to be most of the time!), but both gowns I wear are glamourous in the extreme, which is fun!

A must for any photographers, and pretty entertaining for everybody else, too: Photoshop Disasters blog.

Which means (pretty much by definition), "Tired and preoccupied"! While my role in this show isn't that long as it suffered pretty substantial cuts (before I was hired - nothing to do with me or my performance, I'm relieved to note!), it's turned out to be highly physical, so my body is plain worn out! But, after feeling like I was struggling earlier in the week, at last night's piano dress (a rehearsal onstage and in costume, but with piano rather than orchestra) I finally found the "shape" that I want for the character, and it went much, much, MUCH better. Clearly Wednesday night was "That Rehearsal" and, as is always the case, the frustration and self-dissatisfaction ultimately led to finding what I need to do the job the way I want. Never a dull moment, eh?!

Married to a Brit, I always find the 4th of July slightly amusing: the mixture of resentment and bemusement displayed can be entertaining! (In fact, one of my favorite photographs EVER is one of my husband standing at a 4th of July Small Town parade, bag over his head to keep the torrential rain off, waving a tiny American flag which was stuck in his hand by a passerby. It's perfect!). But that cultural conflict actually has wider implications, not least of which a sense of TIME. A country which is 250 years old simply doesn't have the same sense of integral history as cultures which still regularly use 6- and 700 year old buildings as part of daily life, and where it's seldom more than a day trip to visit the semi-intact ruins of the Romans, the Greeks or beyond. These things are simply THERE, and a given, accepted part of the cultural landscape. In his teaching, my husband is consistently taken aback by the fairly standard structure of American music appreciation and

I'm still smiling at my own confession last night. If anybody had told my 15 year old self I'd even THINK the concept "I love to dance" someday I'd have laughed outright. Live and learn! This morning, despite the fact that just about every bone in my body aches from the falling-down staging and said high-heeled dancing, the weather finally decided to provide the appropriate dry, warm temperatures for me to get on with staining our deck, a project which we have been trying to accomplish since about April, and which has been consistently defeated by the bizarre weather patterns we've had this year. I didn't finish it, but I did make a good start, and hopefully my husband and I can use the extra time over the holiday weekend to finish it (weather permitting, of course. And that's a big "if" these days!) From Dancing Diva to paint-speckled suburban homeowner in less than 12 hours. Welcome to my world!

I love to dance. Onstage. In public. The funny thing is that, like many singers, for years I dreaded the idea that I might have to dance onstage. I'd never been afraid of being athletic in a swimming pool or when I was horseback riding, but on dry land on my own two legs? In my mind's eye, all I could envision as a dancer was the most elegant of pencil-slim, infinitely flexible ballerinas - a sort of cross between Margo Fonteyn , Iman and Elastigirl - which just made my efforts at graceful movement feel more like one of the dancing hippos from Fantasia than anything recognisable as dance. I just did my best to get through the movement and dance classes in my training; I didn't mind the movement part as such, but always felt slow at learning the actual dance steps, and not really sure what I LOOKED like which made me self-conscious. I did it, but as more of an obligation than a pleasure, often making the excuses born of insecurity to wriggle out of it at times. B