I meant to write a post about Wicked earlier, but my sister and I spent most of the morning running around. When we returned I finished the dishes and started working on my fafsa. By the time I noticed how late it was, I was 45 minutes late for the birthday party. I walked out my front door, around through the gate, and three houses down the street to the party. On being accused of being late, I claimed to have been stuck in traffic. For some reason it didn't fly. I was still there in time for carne asada though, and what carne asada it was. Mmmmmmmmmmmm, num num num, good, mmnmmnmm, want more. Sorry, got distracted there.
Later R brought out her new cello, and her brother J, who is extremely gifted musically, started fiddling around with it. Somewhat later, we had the cello and a guitar being played by people who did not know how, the piano being played by someone who did know how and was attempting to follow, and three of us doing a slightly choreographed clapping and extended right foot tapping thing. Then someone brought out some spoons and joined the band and several more clappers joined (the faint signs of choreography faded). Now we had the start of a regular hoe-down going, so we persuaded a couple of the younger girls to "square-dance" for us. They linked arms and skipped around each other, then switched directions a couple of times before leaving the dance floor.
The next item on out impromptu program was a bit unexpected. BR had a couple of pan lids which he had been clapping together like cymbals. He suddenly burst into the central area and began jigging around clapping them in front, behind, and then over his head. Next, he began high kicking in time with our beat. He would first clap the lids high, then below his right leg, high again, and then below his left leg. It was hysterical. Our beat nearly faltered for a moment as we doubled over laughing.
R decided that her mother, who had gone to the apartment out back, needed to see this performance, so 8 or 10 of us trooped out the door and around the house to the apartment door where we spread into a semi circle around the cello and a space for our star and started clapping and J started playing. We decided to sing too and began chanting hey-hey-hey-hey-heya-hey-hey and making warbling noises. SD, R and J's mother, opened the door and stuck her head out curiously; this was BR's cue, he gave a very enthusiastic performance, then bowed low. SD laughed and smiled. Then she told us that K and M, my landlords, should see it, so we gathered more people to clap and trooped down the street with the cello to repeat the performance. It was after this performance that we began wishing people a merry Christmas and concluded that we were Christmas caroling. So what if it is a little off season. We piled into cars and went to disrupt the peace in a few more neighborhoods.
But I was supposed to be posting about Wicked. My littlest sis wanted to go for her birthday, and my little sis and I weren't about to let her and my parents go without us, so Daddy got five tickets, and we all went. It was a wonderful experience from beginning to end. The theatre was a historic building with really neat architectural features, so I enjoyed myself even before the doors were opened. We went to the little cafe next door and got drinks to enjoy and keep us warm while we waited and admired. Architecture and drinks weren't what we drove hours to see though, the doors did open, and they eventually let us begin seating. We really scored on the seats: orchestra section, row Z, dead center. A few rows closer might not have been bad, but we had a wonderful view of the entire stage: close enough to see but not so close that we were craning our necks to see the sides or the top. The curtain was a map of Oz which featured a glowing green Emerald City. I was so engrossed that I did not realize until I looked at my watch that two hours had passed before the intermission. The actress who played Elphaba was an amazingly good singer. Actually, they all were. I just liked her songs better. I was going to hit a couple of high points, but I am having a bit of trouble narrowing it down from the-entire-evening. I adore live theater and don't get to see it very often at all. So, to avoid just summarizing the entire show, which has already been done, I am going to move on now.
Actually, having noticed the time, I am going to skip the other thing I was going to write about, and move on to bed - and sleep.
But first, Quotes (since this is such a long rambley post, it needs more than one):
Despair is only for those who see the end beyond all doubt.
Sleeping penguins are less violent than penguins who are not sleeping.
Hey, no pretense here. I am genuinely self-centered and deeply shallow.