The Show

Actually, before I get to the show, something I've always wanted to catalog:

I am always amazed at how much my face changes in stage makeup. Lizzie, if she's not expecting it, always makes some exclamation of surprise and I expect, horror, when I turn the corner show-ready.

Exhibit A: observe in my natural habitat...



















Exhibit B: with the addition of 10 lbs of makeup, fake eyelashes, and acrylic hair...



















The webcam doesn't do it justice. From up close, it's quite scary.

Now that I'm done documenting myself, the show was wonderful. For once, the audience was expecting what we do and so didn't sit like groups of woodland creatures in the proverbial headlight. The old men smiled looking very debonair, and the ladies danced in their chairs looking proud of their cleavage. The younger versions made noises and commentary which is always amusing when they think we can't hear them. Clearly, we could, as the stage is in the middle of the tables, which removed the pretense and made everything feel so very honest.

I'd post pics of this laudable venue but they're really tight about outside photographs leaking. Jennings and Xiaohong from Circus Center did an incredible doubles hand balancing act. Mel. You would have died and gone to muscular heaven. Danielle did a single-point trapeze that made me all weepy. And I had to tear up a picture of Bush to the song "Mr. Bush." I felt sorry for the guy but did it anyway. It makes me wonder where that line is for me, between doing what the director wants and doing what I want. So far, I haven't reached it. I even sold out my no pasties law the other week because not doing so would have resulted in not having a gig. Which is the opposite of what I want.

I got a couple surprise emails from my sailor when I got home last night. It's only been about a week and a half since I haven't heard from him but it's like a shot of intravenous calm. With that note of glory, happy Sunday.