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Legs Were Broken!

It has totally been a Slacker Saturday today!  In my defense, I have been recruiting my energies for tonight’s performance of Morning’s at Seven at Ilion Little Theatre, which opened last night.  At least one of my loyal readers is interested in knowing how things went (Hello, Granny K!), so here it is:


Just felt like being dramatic (SO appropriate for a drama queen like me!).  But I will say that after the usual opening night jitters, the first performance went very well.  The audience seemed to enjoy it immensely, and we got some very kind compliments afterward.

Don’t we look about to kick some community theatre butt?

First we had to take the traditional pre-performance cast selfie.  At least, that is Kaylynn’s tradition.  She is the beautiful lady in the immediate foreground.  I have worked with her on other plays and murder mysteries, and she is always such a joy.  While I’m at it, I must give a shout-out to the entire cast and crew.  Oh, you don’t really want me to put everyone’s name, do you?  This isn’t an Oscar speech, after all.  Come see the show, and you can read all about us in the programme (the computer is underlining “programme,” but I wanted to give it the pretentious spelling) (and not for nothing, but why is is “pretentious” and not “pretencious” when it is “pretence”?  I mean, I can see why it is not “predendous” from “pretend,” because that would be silly) (But I digress).

I suppose some readers might want to hear a little more about last night’s performance.  Well, I will confess right off the bat that I messed up.  Almost big time.  First I forgot the end of a line, which my cast-mate needed to give her line.  Then I started to skip almost a whole page of necessary information.  In both instances, I caught myself and disaster was averted. I was, however, quite mortified.  For one reason, I am good at learning lines and am often the one to save others who find themselves in difficulties.  For another reason, THAT WAS THE SCENE I KNEW BEST!!!  I suppose I needed to look over my lines a few more times. 5,483 times is obviously superior to 5,479 times.  Let that be a lesson to me.

However, as I said, the audience seemed to enjoy the performance a lot. They were a wonderful audience: ready to laugh and be pleased.  I tell you, there is nothing better than being on stage and hearing sincere laughter.  I guess not so much if you are doing, for example, a Shakespearean tragedy, but this is a charming comedy.  And I believe the entire cast was charming.  I encourage local readers to come and see for yourselves.  Tell them Mohawk Valley Girl sent you.  And if I steered you wrong, feel free to break my leg.



No Worry Wednesday

This is my new feature, to replace Wuss-out Wednesday.  I like it.

Astute readers (have I any other kind?) probably read yesterday’s post and expected another ridiculous post today.  Well, I AM still trying to learn my lines for Roxy.  In fact, I did write something today, but it wasn’t a blog post, and I didn’t finish it.  Still, words on paper, that’s a good thing, right?

Logging onto this evening (later than expected once again; gotta love overtime), I saw that I had ten Likes and one comment on yesterday’s foolishness.  In the course of replying to the comment, No Worry Wednesday was born, so thank you to fellow blogger Mark Bialczak.

In order that my entire post not be an announcement of a new day for me, I will share you a story about yesterday’s rehearsal.

In case you didn’t know, Roxy is about Roxalana Druse, who murdered her husband in the Town of Warren, and subsequently was tried and hanged for it in Herkimer, NY.  It is a true story.  I play Roxy.  I shoot my husband and chop his head off with an ax (I didn’t need to include a spoiler alert for that; in addition to being a well-known bit of local history, the characters talk about it in the first scene).  In my defense, my husband is, to quote the play, a “goddam lousy son of a bitch.”

Art Wilks, the man playing my husband is a very good actor.  He is physically imposing and has a deep, gravelly voice.  When in character, he is mean and scary.  We were doing the scene in which I kill him.  He had just called me a goddam bitch and threatened to split my skull open with an ax.  It was a tense moment, and Art probably should have turned his cell phone off.

Art’s ring tone was a sweet, tinkly, music-box sounding tune.  It was soft, it was pleasant.  I tried not to break character, and if Art was perhaps ten percent less of a good actor, I might have made it.  As it was, the contrast was too much for me.  Along with everybody else, I cracked up laughing.

Perhaps in reaction to the tension of the scene, I laughed harder than I have laughed in years.  I laughed so hard I had to walk away.  I laughed so hard I gasped for breath.  I laughed and laughed and laughed.  I’m still chuckling just remembering.

I hope I have conveyed how humorous it was. However, in the spirit of the day, I shall not worry if I have not.  If anything has ever happened to you that made you laugh that hard, please share it in the comments.  I like to laugh.