Costume, Make-up, And Footlights!

Working in the theater has a lot in common with unemployment.

Arthur Gingold
Friday I went shopping for a strapless brassiere. (Don’t you just want to pronounce that word “brass-ee-error” I love to write it out just so I can think “brass-ee-error.” OK, yeah, I’m weird. You better go find another blog to read.) OK, so I hate brassieres in the first place because I’ve never found one that REALLY fit (and yes I’ve gone through the torture of being fitted by professionals) but strapless ones are a special kind of torture. So why in hell am I BUYING one on purpose?

Because dear friends and neighbors, I am going to be in a one act play my costume is an off the shoulder evening gown that I really like everything about except that it’s OFF-THE-SHOULDER and could I please lose 25 pounds by next Friday? This gown is SOOOO not me. I’m all blue jeans and tie dye. It’s all satin and lace and crinoline foofoo-ishness but it’s the most gorgeous copper brown. A color I know I look drop dead gorgeous in.

Actually the script (by Gail Sterkel) is so not me. But because it isn’t me I think I will be able to camp it up the way they want us to without any problems. If only I don’t freeze and forget my lines! ACK! I just can’t seem to get the last page’s cues into my head. Once I know which line I’m supposed to be on, then I’m cool but damn, the cues just don’t click for me. It’s getting better. I’ve typed the last two pages out three times so I’ve almost got that whole part of the script memorized. Now if I won’t move my lips while other people say their lines. <heh>

I also bought make-up for the first time in at least ten years. I hope I remember how to use it. That stuff is expensive. Now I am going to have to find more excuses for wearing it. hmmmm… NOT. Maybe I will find someone who isn’t too picky about used make-up who will take it off my hands. The lipstick and powder I will use but that foundation crap no way.

I’m really starting to get excited. Only five days from today and I’ll be standing behind the footlights glammed up living a dream I’ve had for years! I missed rehearsal on Thursday because I was so sick with a 24 hour virus and I of all people needed that rehearsal. This week I will be hiding out from the germ-o-crats in this building who don’t have enough sense to stay home when they are sick even more than usual. Maybe I will do what I saw one girl doing and wear a face mask–I could make my own. I’m not sure whether she was trying to protect us or herself. Maybe that is being a little too paranoid but when you have an autoimmune disorder and get sick at the drop of a hat well…is there such a thing as too paranoid?

We are meeting at 5:45 at Meriter’s Maingate for a pre-rehearsal before the big all cast rehearsal. I’m going to make a trip over to the store and get some 3X5 cards and write my cues and lines on them to take along. Maybe since this skit is about a show within the show, I could even get away with having them on the “make-up table.” I’d feel safer. Maybe Pam and Wendy would feel safer too! <heh>

B

Sometimes the Coffee Stirs Ya

The first line of this poem was shamelessly stolen from a coffee cup cozy at a famous name brand coffee shop a couple of years ago.  Should I mention their name?  Oh hell, why not give them credit.  StarBucks.  StarBucks on State Street near the University of Wisconsin to be exact.  I used to go there with my fella.  <grin>

I hereby dedicate these poems to Larry and Starbucks.  Larry knows the value of a good cup of coffee.

COFFEE (Fall)

Sometimes the coffee stirs ya’
makes ya’ rise up in the morning
a song on your lips, shouting hallelujah!
When it’s a a bag of fresh roasted beans
and you grind it yourself while
the sun rises favorably over the city;
when the brewing takes over every room
while you’re snuggling in bed with your fella.
Some days the October sky is that blue that thrills ya
and the colors have peaked in falls gaudy bloom
so you fill the house with the bright yellow fullness
of Sunflowers. Everything seems so full of promise!
Those are the days you don’t want to miss..
Sometimes the coffee just stirs ya’
Know what I mean?

Sometimes ya’ just stir the coffee…
You know, those days when you’re feeling glum
and it’s partly to mostly cloudy, hardly any sun.
It don’t matter how fresh the beans
might be or how strong you make your coffee
ain’t nothing gonna stir ya’
because today you’ve just got the blues.
The in-pile on your desk just gets bigger and bigger;
the daily news seems to portend the end
of time and you ain’t got a dime till pay day
and Honey, don’t you know, that’s a week away!
Your guy’s out of town; your best friend forever
ain’t talking to ya’ and you ain’t got a clue
what the hell’s tripping her trigger!
You’re feeling almighty low and downright awful!
Some days it’s all you can do to pick up a spoon
and keep on stirring the coffee.
Know what I mean?

COFFEE (Spring)

 Sometimes the coffee stirs ya’
makes ya’ rise up in the morning
a song on your lips, shouting hallelujah!
When it’s a a bag of fresh roasted beans
and you grind it yourself while
the sun rises favorably over the city;
when the brewing takes over the house
while you’re snuggling in bed with your fella.
Some days the dandelions are so yellow they thrill ya
and the lilacs are in full bloom
so you fill every room with the smelly fullness
of their blossoms and everything seems full of promise.
Those are the days you don’t want to miss..
Sometimes the coffee just stirs ya’
Know what I mean?

Sometimes ya’ just stir the coffee…
You know, those days when you’re feeling glum
and it’s partly to mostly cloudy, hardly any sun.
It don’t matter how fresh the beans
might be or how strong you make your coffee
ain’t nothing gonna stir ya’
because today you’ve just got the blues.
The in-pile on your desk just gets bigger and bigger;
the daily news seems to portend the end
of time and you ain’t got a dime till pay day
and Honey, don’t you know, that’s a week away!
Your guy’s out of town; your best friend forever
ain’t talking to ya’ and you ain’t got a clue
what the hell’s tripping her trigger!
You’re feeling almighty low and downright awful!
Some days it’s all you can do to pick up a spoon
and keep on stirring the coffee.
Know what I mean?

Barbara Gavin-Lewellyn

I’m going to try and write a different version of this poem for every season.  I think this is one of the best pieces I have ever done.  Just my opinion.

I should start putting more of my stuff online.

B

DigiKam Fun

I’ve been having such a good time playing around with my new camera and the Xandros photo manipulation program digikam. This is way more fun that developing film and making your own black and white prints which I learend to do back in the late 70s. I mean that was fun but my lord it was expensive and fussy work.

With these digital cameras you don’t have to worry about how much film you have you can take as many shots of your subject as you like and not worry if you’re wasting film. Once you’ve got your shots downloaded onot the PC you can take them off the camera and fill that space up again. I’d say my digital camera has already paid for itself in those terms.

Not that I would have ever taken 150 pictures of my cat pre-digital camera but being able to is wonderful! Now I need to take a class so I can learn to do everything this caemra does. <heh>

Some of my best work:

My son, Daryn

My nephew, Gregory

(psst… Both of these boys are single and live in the Madison area. But don’t tell them I said so.)

 

 

My Gr-Dog, Po Sacajawea

(I like how these effects really pick up on the muscle tone of this dog.)

 

B

 

 

 

 

See the USA, In Your Chevrolet! Have You Driven a Ford Lately?

Riding along in my automobile
My baby beside me at the wheel
I stole a kiss at the turn of a mile
my curiosity running wild
crusin’ and playin’ the radio
with no particular place to go

Chuck Berry

I’m still taking this in. I auditioned for a variety show a couple of weeks or so ago (September 10th actually) that was billed as “The Fabulous Crone Show” and was called Saturday. They’ve asked me to be in a skit called “The Antique RoadShow.”

It’s about three old cars. Doesn’t that sound delightful? I haven’t seen the script yet but I can’t wait. This is perfect for me. I love old cars. I gave up driving in ‘97 or so for safety reasons–yours not mine and I really miss it.

Of course it’s probably a rip-off of the animated film “Cars.”. I got the Gr-Son that movie for Christmas last year. I will have to watch it to get some feel for how to be a car. Maybe I should see if there is a “Making of Cars” movie around.

I think I will would wnat to be most like George Carlin only a Beetle. I had a powder Blue ‘69 Beetle. I’m betting we will be 50s models though. So what model would I be? A Ford or Pontiac I think. I really liked the Pontiac hood ornaments when I was a kid.

I hope I get to make car noises! rumble, rumble, rumble… vroom! vroom! Screeech!

B

Plastic Free Patches

Well, that little episode with Patches itchies was quite a revelation.  She got checked out, got her shots for the year, got her teeth cleaned and was sternly admonished to exercise more and eat less (she blinked twice and lay down as if to say “as if”) and pronounced healthy but pudgie.   They don’t use the F word there.

The Vet laughed at me when I told him about the leash but said going up and down stairs a couple of times a day would be good for her.  So I will have to get another collar.  I should walk over to Walgreens for one of those rugged fabric ones  or find another excuse to go out to Shopko.  Maybe I could make one.  Where the hell is she going to go if she gets loose?  We’ll be in the stairwell.  The leash is primarily for managements benefit.

The Vet agreed that it was probably allergies to one of the things that was new and most likely the collar but to let things be for awhile  and then  we could re-introduce one thing at a time to see if she reacted.  I’m thinking why bother with all that?  Not one damn thing was essential.

But OK out of curiosity I’ll see if she breaks out from the Newmans Own.  Just so I can write to Robert Redford and tell him my cat is allergic to it if she is.  Besides, she liked it but ate less of it than she did the Iams.   Now  I wonder why that is?  I have no idea what the caloric count  is on either brand.  I wonder if she would pick the Newmans out of the Iams?  Oooo Kitty torture.

I still think it’s the plastic.  I took away her plastic food bowl too and she is no longer scratching her chin like she used to.  I wonder if that means I have to forbid her from playing with the plastic bags while I’m unpacking groceries.

She does get rather playful then.  She chases them across the floor.  I fill them with air for her like balloons and she kills them for me.  When they are dead I pick them up and put them in a paper bag to save as pooper scoopers for the grand-doggies.  I need to transfer some to my suitcase for the next trip to Edgerton.

Anyway, I’m going to start giving Fatty Patty Newman’s own cat food tomorrow morning.  Stay tuned.

B

The Shelf Wars Revisited

A nice war is a war where everybody who is heroic is a hero, and everybody more or less is a hero in a nice war.

Gertrude Stein

Gosh, I finally found a way to quote Getrude. The professor I pissed off when I told her I thought Stein was a crock of over ripe manure and not worth reading would be so proud of me. Of course I left out about 5000 words of sheer and utter nonsense and when you come right down to it this is pure BS as well. Alice B. was a saint.

My professor later forgave me when I won second place in a Robert Frost poetry contest with a poem about cowpaths and cows getting their udders ripped open by barbed wire because the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence. It was a femnist poem. She liked that too. <heh>

But back to the shelf wars. Remember when I tried to hang the shelves in my bedroom? Not good.

I was hanging shelves again today in the living room when who should buzz my buzzer but my dearly beloved son. I answered my inside door with my handy dandy ratched screwdriver in hand. My son covets my ratcheted screwdriver with it’s many different interchangeable heads of varying sizes. It’s a newly acquired toy.

He promptly relieved me of my screwdriver and began toying with it. “Whatcha doing, Mom?”

“Where?”

“Over in the corner.” and he goes running over there to see what I had done with my ratcheted screw driver in his hot little hand.

I had just begun to set those plastic doohickeys into the dry wall after having carefully measured everything three times with my retracting tape measurer to be sure that everything was going to be level. He remeasured everything for me and nodded his head wisely. He reminded me so much of his father I had to giggle.

Then he picked up my hammer and the long handled screwdriver I was using as a punch and began driving the rest of the holes to finish the job. Whoa! Wait a minute here, This was my nice little Saturday, I’m writing and I need a diversion every now and then project. I’ll write and when I need to think, I’ll punch a hole or screw in a screw.

But he wants to use my ratcheting screwdriver so bad he can taste it. All in the name of helping out the old lady. His Mom. Nothing can make you fell more ancient and helpless than a son who has just taken possession of your ratcheting screwdriver and your self-suffiency. And dammit I wanted to have the bragging rights of saying I hung those shelves and did it right. The last damn project was a disastor.

Not my fault the wall is cement and I couldn’t get the screws set plus the brackets just won’t stay in the thing-a-ma-jiggie. (Well they will now–Gorilla glue is the duct tape of today! Love that stuff!) But he had to rescue me from that disastor and I AM HANGING THESE SHELVES.

We argue about it a bit until I remember that the hanging Stained Glass Butterfly gadget he got me for Christmas still hasn’t been hung. And it will require me to stand on a chair to do it myself. Not good when you have vertigo. Plus I don’t know for sure what kind of hook to get. Plus he is tall.

I got the guy in to drill the hole into the cement ceiling (yeah… cement. Next time someone says tornado warning and we ought to take cover, I’m telling them we live in a freaking bomb shelter! We’ll be the only building standing after it’s all over. <heh&gt I’ve just been waiting for him to show up.! YAY Diversion tactics!

Anyway, I show him that and we take a walk over to Dorn Hardware and pick up a hook and he puts that up but he still wants to play with my screw driver so together we put the first bracket holding strip up. I insist on driving the first screw.

I’m going to have to get that boy one of those screwdrivers for Christmas. And maybe one of those nifty ratcheted socket sets they have. I wish I needed sockets because they sure are cool. I love hardware stores. Dorn’s is really cool because they have cool people who work there.

B

My Fabric Addiction Begins to Pay Off.

Creativity is allowing yourself to make mistakes. Art is knowing which ones to keep.

Scott Adams (1957 - ), ‘The Dilbert Principle’

Last night or I should say very early this morning I finished sewing up that tie dyed butterfly bock print maerial I just had to have from Hancock Fabrics out at Westgate Mall. I’m pleased with the way it turned out but it turnned out to be a much more complicated project than I ever envsioned and took about ten times as long as it should have.

First of all I choes the most complicted patterns for the tunic and skirt I could possible have chosen. Why? I’ll be damned if I know. They just looked so “kewl” when I was looking at the patterns an I got grandiose and decided I could deal with that. And I could but it was a struggle and it wasn’t all that enjoyable. The skirt alone has eight pieces and I’m not talking about gores, I’m talking about pieces that make interesting flattering asymmetrical lines that go together like a jigsaw puzzle. The tunic is nearly as riidiculous. Note too self: try to use some sanity when you choose patterns.

Another huge probelm was that the fabric shrank when I washed it. Thank goodness I didn’t skip that step because it would have been a dissastor iif I had. When I went to cut the pattern out I didn’t have enough material for the entire outfit. So I had to punt and “rob Peter to pay Paul.” Luckly I had some royal blue that went with the tie dyed fabric nicely. The project it was meant for will simply have to wait or better yet, I’ll punt again.

At any rate, once I got all these peieces of fabric cut out, seing them togethr seemed like a daunting task, I kep hearing Mrs Gardner and my Mother telling me my seams weren’t straight enough or precisely 5/8 of an inch from the edge of the fabric and that that point where the two different colors of fabric met wasn’t crips enough. It really took awhile to tell them to STFU and go sew their own stuff perfectly. I am an adult and if I can live with my perfections it’s none of theri damn business.

My gawd, I’m 54 years old and this shit is still playing out in my head, paralyizing me. I really need to get over it already. Eventually I do because I did get this project done but lord gawd the fear of screwing it up was intense for awhile.

Now see, I don’t have that fear when I do things that are typiclally thought of as guy typpe things. I’ll pund hole in the wall and hang shelves with abandon. When I drove, I changed my oil and tires by myself and kept track of transmission fluid and water levels with no problem and complete self-confidence that I was perfectly capable of doing these things by myself. No agita as my new freind MomtoGoats (Mindy) at the Delphi Forum Poll Vault would put it.

Agita is my new vocabulary word for the week. It’s italian aand means acid indigestion. I love it!

Now that I’ve gotten it done, I’m pleased with it and I think I’ve done a creditble job. Not quite up to Mr’s Garner or my Mother’s standards but certainly good enough. I’m happy with the finnished product znd that’s what counts most here.

I’m planning to wear my new outfit to tonight’s Rythm & Booms! show down at the Memorial Union. You couldn’t pay me me to go to Warner Park where the close up and persoal fireworks display is. Supposedly Rythm &Booms is the biggest fireworks disply in the midwest and it draws huge crowds. Even at plaes like the Union which is across th lake from Warner Park. I took the kids there when Madiso first started biling itself as the biggest and the best back in th 80s and even back then the traffiic mess trying to get home was such a hassle we decided to stick with the small town displays. If we planned carefuly we could see three different sets of fireworks.

My son is coming over today to help me put up a shelf in the closet and move my computer desk into the bedoom. Soon in fact.

B