Tag Archives: Tea

First Dress

4 Nov

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Hello civilians, and welcome to first dress rehearsal. 

…Our call is late, due to blocking of the the theatre’s follow-up Holiday show taking place on the same stage, directly before our call.  In short: the December show is running about on our stage right now, (as we once did to “Sherlock”)…and will continue until 4:30…at which time we begin arriving in shifts in various states of makeup and hair, to tag-team, sort out some adjustment fittings, and ship things directly out into the makeshift on-site alteration and stitching department currently holding state in the lobby. 

…As of yesterday’s costume parade, I had nothing to wear but my corset, shoes, and stockings. They are still piecing my blacks together, built in copy pattern to a gray dress I tried on a little over a week ago, whose color was veto’d but style and fitting was approved.  Will be doing my hair and makeup at home, to avoid time-crunch and also have a slew of my own outlets for various curlers and irons, as I invent the styles to begin with. Plenty of elbow room, music, and pictorial inspiration on the internet, ready on my computer, at click-command.

…Also, right now: a stew is cooking in the crockpot.

Got up this morning to make a cup of coffee, and feed meat and veg into the slow-cooker, before surveying the damage of last night’s spur-of-the-moment mini party. 

A couple of casties, (post eats, post cue-to-cue), didn’t want to give up the ghost quite yet…so I rushed home to prep their arrival, and make sure we had enough mixers.  Many talks on many subjects, with “Anonymous” on in the background, a shared stogie on the back patio, a trip planning thrown out there, and YouTube vomits of the most ridiculous videos we know of, that we feel compelled to force other people to watch and thus be forever equally scarred from, for life.

…Marty, I think, wins for that South African husband and wife freak-team.  And you can wonder at all it’s wrongs here, should you choose. (Their “Ninja” one is as least as horrifying.)

I need more coffee, but the last bag of beans has been killed, and I mourned it, even before this one cup was done perking. Thus, I am forced into tea…which is lovely when you want tea, but when you want “coffee” there is no solace to that desire unless you feed it what it demands.

Coffee is very S&M that way.

4 hours and 24 minutes left on the stew clock, and a sink-and-a-half of dirty dishes to see to.

…But first: heat some water, pop in some “Shakespeare In Love” or “Stage Beauty” or “Henry V” or “Richard III”…or any of the eleven-hundred others keeping to the current theme…take a walk, take a shower, and set my hair to begin the regime.

This is one of those days where you spend almost all of it, just prepping for the end-game…as first dresses always have, and always will be.

~D

10,000 Cups Of Tea, And A Gollum

19 Jul

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In keeping with the norm, I’m mid a beaut of a “post-show crash.” 

Every time a show ends, all that adrenaline I’ve been souping up with instantly wooshes out of me, like a pregnant woman whose water just broke.  Really, it depletes that fast.  And with the precise timing of Mother Nature, I spiral dramatically into a hell of a decline: sobbing sinuses, raging fevers, throat feeling like a cheese grater attacked it…you know, the usual misery of a common cold.  It happens because I push myself too hard, get little sleep, and eat crap due to time restraints.  When you’re “on,” the rush of it will help to compensate these things…but when the show is over, it’s a total nosedive.

…Which is what happened little more than 4 hours after I reached home on Sunday night, post-dinner with the group. 

Home!  My bed!  Fresh jammies! 

…This lasted all of a trip to the bathroom.  I was still unpacking after one of the longest, hottest showers ever invented, when I started to feel it all climbing onto me with sticky realness.

…’Member that terrible “Spiderman 3” movie, where the alien black tar animal stuff glunks onto him, inflicting evil?  It was like that.

Alien.  Black tar.  Animal stuff.  Glunked.

It’s exactly what I felt like.  And depending on how much I am physically attempting to do: it still is.

…Monday’s noon call at work, was a wash…because I couldn’t sit up by noon.  I couldn’t even swallow.  By two, I made it exactly as far as my couch. This is where I laid for the next many hours, only moving occasionally to flip like a  pancake in a pan, and boil some more hot water.

…Water.  So much water.  10,000 cups of tea made from about eight different spice, herb and flower varieties…and the magic juice of theatre, which a few of us two shows back decided to call “Gollum Piss.”  It tastes about like what it’s named, and is basically a hot toddy from hell: Hot water, as much straight lemon juice as you can take, ditto on cyan pepper…and if you’re new to it: maple syrup to sweeten.  At some point you just stop adding the maple, because it’s a useless attempt to make it taste better anyway.  And if you are home: a jigger of whiskey every so-many-cups, rounds it out nicely.  With luck, you’ll have burnt through all the mucus, freed your vocal chords and be sporting quite a nice buzz, before the mixture settles in your gut and begins torching holes in the stomach lining. But you will be able to breathe again.  And sometimes swallow.  And it’ll out-burn the fever. Whatever is left over has you happily humming to your bottle of Jack Daniels…so: good all ’round.

…Course, this is just “Day One.”  By “Day Two,” you are at work, gripping your guts with acid indigestion and honking out coughs like a yard animal.  But the important thing is that you made it through the first day.  This is what you tell yourself as you drool all over the make-up paperwork you’re doing, because you had the audacity to be rendered almost dead the day before, and no one saw fit to start on anything from over the weekend…just pile it up on your desk.

…Which brings us now to day four. Because days two, through now, haven’t changed much, really.  Still paperwork hell…only now I can breathe naturally out of both nostrils at the same time, and my guts don’t feel like they’re cooking over an open flame.  Also, I can walk a reasonably straight line again without my head floating ten feet above my body somewhere at the end of a string.  Tonight: I’ll get me some fresh air…try a short walk…drink more fuzzy water.

Tonight: I will defeat the last of this scourage…so I can come in tomorrow, fight my weekly battle with Payroll, turn in the last of the week’s reports, and have me a “weekend” like the normals.

It’s good to have goals.

~D

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