Archive for October, 2008
How in the world did I ever work full time? Happy Halloween by the way, it’s kinda passed me by this year. Our new house sits on a street too short to entice candy grubbing ghouls to venture down it and the grandgirls are still in the big city. No worries though, I’m up to my eyeballs in Christmas play business.
The play has been cast (48 people counting the choir). Instead of acting, I decided to be stage manager (better anyway, whenever someone is missing I get to read their part. Technically, that lets me be all the parts). As stage manager, I’m running around trying to get all the nuts and bolts gathered…advertisers for the playbill, tickets, actor bio’s, rehearsal schedules…its endless.
So I’ll be around when I can and my new year’s resolution is to acquire a secretary strictly so I can dictate my blog posts.
While I was away, two of my grandgirls, Juliette, who is five and her little sister, Brendolynn, who is two, spent the weekend with me. Normally, that’s a ticket for 48 hours of non-stop fun. But that weekend not only did I have a cold that interfered with hearing their chipmunk-like voices, but the muffler fell off my car as I was picking them up.
Pap works every weekend, so handing this problem off to him (and taking his car) was not an option. Being grounded to the house all weekend with two small kids, was also not an option. Armed with a box of kleenex and a bag full of toys for the kids, I started calling around to our available car repair shops Saturday morning to see if I could get an appointment to have the muffler repaired.
The first thing I learned was that car repair shops in Southeastern, Ohio do not make “appointments”. They can either get you “in” or they can’t…or won’t. Shop one didn’t feel like doing a muffler on Saturday morning. What kind of business person turns away a job? Undaunted by this first rejection, I took a break to hack up a lung, make a note to black ball that business and pull Brendolynn out of my palm tree.
Shop two said they could get me “in” but not until Thursday. Silly of me, but isn’t that the same as making an “appointment”? I told them I’d call back, took the sippy cup Brendolynn was using to sprinkle my leather couch away from her, rescued Juliette’s play-doh from the dog, blew my nose and then called my next option.
“Bring her in” Shop three said. I was encouraged. Not only were they going to help me out, they knew my car was a “she”. Once I’d changed Brendolyn’s diaper, retrieved Juliette’s shoe from under the couch, found something for me to wear that at least kinda matched and herded both girls into the car, I was sneezing so much my eyes were watering. I roared my way to the repair shop and pulled up to the garage doors which were right under a sign that said “No appointment necessary, we’ll hear you coming”. Apparently they had a standing policy about getting people “in”.
The windows were so covered with dirt and cobwebs you couldn’t see inside. Once we found the door, I understood why they didn’t worry about no view of the interior. It was furnished with a bedraggled collection of old barber chairs, each occupied by large men dressed in camoflage. A bulletin board covered in business cards so faded you couldn’t read most of them occupied one wall, the others were covered with clocks, hunting calendars and a pepsi machine that held nothing but Coke and Mt. Dew. Dirt made up the balance of the waiting room furnishings. Once I’d convinced the mechanic and his cohorts that my Sebring was a 98 not a 96, they left me in that pit and disappeared under an employees only sign that led to what I’m sure was a state of the art, spotlessly clean garage. Minutes later, I was wishing you could muzzle children without being arrested.
Juliette began to sing her A,B, C’s. The first time it was cute. The second time, when she sang her new version (A’s for the apple so shiny and sweet, B is for birds all going tweet, tweet….I think her teacher must be about 90) with Bren chiming in on the last word at the top of her lungs it was still kinda cute. Once they’d repeated this song about 20 times, getting louder each time, I was fairly certain that my head was going to explode. And then Juliette began a new version, this one accompanied by both of them jumping on the barber chairs.
“A is for Apple, B is for Bread, C is for Candy, D is for Donuts, E is for Eggs, F is for Fish Sticks, G is for Grapes, H is for…. H is for… Nana what is H for?”
“Hush, Juliette. H is definately for HUSH.”
She stopped jumping. She looked a me with one hand on her hip. “You can’t eat HUSH, Nana, where did you go to school?”
An apt description of my blog lately…great sucking void. So much happened last week I had no time to get here. Eventually I’ll write about all of it, but for today, my fiendish plan to participate in an annual Christmas production without the indignity of being “second pine beside the candy cane” or “third bush up stage”. I got together with two of my writing buddies and we wrote our own play. It’s called The Christmas Legacy, three acts with music and a cast of 27, not counting the choir. Everyone gets to play. Which is great, as long as you have somewhere, and someone to produce it.
Our amazing local art council has been discussing adding theater to their program for awhile. My writing group is an arm of that art council, there is a literary guild that produces a book of stories about our area every two years, and now we’ve added the Southeastern Ohio Regional Theater Guild. From that pool of people we found a director and the Art Council secured a small grant letting us tick “someone to produce” off the list.
Last week, my time was spent securing the venue. We have three Methodist churches in our small town, old, older and oldest. Two of them, older and oldest, recently consolidated their memberships and moved to older’s church, leaving oldest church empty. It’s perfect so we’re off…auditions are Sunday and Monday. So if you live, or no someone who lives in the Southeastern Ohio area, come join us!