Hodpodge Update

The days have passed rapidly and Lydia has grown like a weed. How have we been here for five weeks already? Her motor skills are astounding. There is a whole new level of understanding in her eyes. She is a different baby since we left Yellowstone.

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This morning I went to a yoga class in Wauconda, the town over. I like a studio called Silver Lotus, and on Saturday mornings I try to make it Hatha Flow. Afterwards, I like to go to Honey Hill Coffee, just up the road, and try to write. These are decadent luxuries to me and I am grateful for them. On Saturdays on like this one, when there is no commuting or shopping or hustle & bustle, life in Chicagoland is peaceful and sweet.

Despite this, I’ve had no time for the blog lately. Every time I sit down to try and blog something, I decide instead that I should be working on the show. The show is happening. I’ve got a venue. I’ve got a script (that I can’t stop picking at). I’ve got 5×7′ area rug that acts as my stage. I’ve got a symphony of clamp lights and xmas lights and outdoor flood lamps that I control with my feet. I’ve got 25 folding chairs. I’ve got a ukelele. I’ve got a great big lump in my throat.

It is FOUR WEEKS until The Interior opens at Cynamon Shop. (Actually, it was four weeks from YESTERDAY.) If I wasn’t panicked about it, it would mean I didn’t care, right? That is what I would tell my students: anxiety about a project means you are invested. So I bounce from “How will I ever get this all done?” to “It feels wonderful to be making something” and back, every time I pick up the script.

I videotape myself acting it out and watch it. Rafal sometimes acts as a stand-in. I understand very fully the value of a director. I’m asking myself to be in two places at once.

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But I can’t lie: it lifts my heart to be making something. Something imperfect. Something slapped together between nursing a baby and changing a diaper and maybe every third day washing my hair. It feels real and good to be staging my story, even if on some days, the dual fears of failure and overexposure cause me to lie on the floor and just breathe. My first show post-graduate school is manifesting itself. It is bigger than me now. It is becoming material.

And that’s what is happening now.

 

 

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