Tryouts

Susie Finkbeiner, a very famous author friend of mine (I was her assistant when she was the Children's Minister at our church back in the day), is taking a Director's class over at the Master Arts Theater in town (just ten minutes away from our house) and solicited the aid of her friends to volunteer as actors in some scenes that she and her fellow students are to direct. Mary and I both volunteered.

So on Monday night, we braved the snow and ice to drive ten minutes (actually almost eleven due to the inclement weather!) to the theater where we found ourselves in the middle of a frenzy of theatrical activity, with other potential actors and directors swirling around us in various states of dramatic ecstasy. The excitement, as they say, was palpable. And so were the nerves. Not mine, of course; I was just excited to be a part of it all, and get the chance to goof around on a stage. But the potential directors were a bit on edge, nervous, shaky, sweaty, trying to keep it all together while evaluating the performance of the people (friends and family, mostly) who had shown up to support them.

We saw some old church friends, which made for a happy reunion. We met the student directors, whose minds were aflutter. And we met our fellow volunteer/actors, who were in various states of readiness and nervousness.

We went downstairs first to the room where Susie would be auditioning her potential candidates; she's doing scenes from "Sense and Sensibility". Mary tried out for the part of Marianne. I was sent back upstairs to audition for a role in Agathe Christie's "Witness for the Prosecution". Apparently they weren't looking for any old men in S&S; they need young, handsome men for John Dashwood, Edward Ferrars, and Robert Ferrars. So I took a walk back upstairs and into the tiny office where auditions for WftP were taking place.

The director-to-be was busy with something so he handed me a script to look over, and then another not-quite-so-young gentlemen came in to read as well, and soon we were going through the script together. The chosen scene only involved the Prosecutor and the Accused, so I took the part of the Prosecutor and he the Accused, and, when the director returned from his errand, he gave us a synopsis of the play to that point, and then we ran through it. I had a wonderful time! And all too soon, we were done and it was time for the next duo to read.

I went back downstairs to see how Mary was doing.

She was having a wonderful time playing as Marianne in a scene from S&S which I thoroughly enjoyed watching. And then it was time for another scene for which I volunteered as the part of Thomas, the servant (only 4 lines), which I overplayed a bit (I couldn't help adding a bit of an accent!); and then it was time for a few more scenes, and then we switched to another play, and then another. In all, Mary was able to read for two or three scenes, and I did three (including the part of a dwarf in a 'modern' adaptation of Snow White), and then we were done.

We were all thanked profusely, and told that we would receive phone calls later that night to give us our assigned roles. As there were a number of scenes and not quite so many actors, we were all guaranteed parts. So we drove home (happy and weary) and waited.

Mary got the part of Marianne. Yay!

And I got the part of The Prosecutor. Yay!

So for the next few weeks, we will be having rehearsals on Monday nights down at the Theater, and then we will be doing final performances on March 21st and 22nd.

So it's time to memorize lines!!  

Pain (less)

Mondays are generally a pain because I've put off so many things til the last minute (just call me Captain Procrastination!) and when Sunday afternoon starts sliding into evening, my capitulating brain decides that it is too tired to fuss with any of the things on the To-Do list and asks Mr Sandman over for a nice, relaxing nightcap and before you can say "Out!" my eyes are closed and I'm snuggled up in my nice, warm bed.

And then morning comes like a shower of cold December rain.

This particular Monday was a double-whammy of cold-water-in-the-face because I had a 7:30 a.m. appointment with the Physical Therapist and then an 8:15 appointment with the Doctor. And this is in addition to the normal up-at-the-crack-of-5 because "my brain is awake and won't shut up even though my body is still exhausted" routine. Luckily for me they are in the same building!

But when I got to the clinic, I discovered that the morning had been even worse for someone else: there was a fire truck, and ambulance, and a police car sitting in the driveway. Apparently someone upstairs in the Lab had a serious issue (my PT described it as a "tragedy") and wouldn't be going home without some assistance. As for myself, after a few neck-stretches and bar-pulls followed by a quick check-in with the doctor across the hallway, I was on my way back home under my own power.

And (relatively) pain free.

The exercises and attention to good posture have been doing me quite a bit of good. It is sad that my body is finally paying me back for all those years of abusing it (spinally speaking), but at least there is the comfort that my children learned proper sitting etiquette from their mother, so it is unlikely they will ever have to put up with this kind of PT. 

Of course, it also means that whenever they drive a car I've been driving, there is always an eye-roll and a look of complete disgust when they have to re-adjust the seat back to 'normal'. Oh, well, not everyone enjoys driving from a La-Z-Boy.

And that's another thing I'm going to have to give up if I want to remain pain-free.

Infinite Pain

Physical Therapy sucks.

I've had poor posture practically my whole life, but my body didn't decide to punish me for my laziness until this past year. I don't remember exactly when -- say sometime in the last six months -- but at some point, I was having trouble finding a comfortable position at night and was waking up with bad headaches and tingling in my right arm.

Then I started noticing that the tingling was also occurring while sitting at my desk.

And then I started noticing that the tingling was occurring every time I moved my arm forward while in a sitting position.

Naturally, I discussed this with my doctor. He scheduled some X-rays. They revealed that I'm a horrible sloucher and I have mis-aligned vertebrae. And these mis-aligned vertebrae are playing havoc with the nerves that run down my right arm.

I was thankful that he did not mention surgery, but instead scheduled me for some physical therapy. That sounded nice! I envisioned a team of Swedish masseuses give me neck-rubs and back-rubs until magically the pain went away.

Um. No.

In reality, I have a very nice middle-aged Indian man who took one look at me -- the way I was standing and sitting and bending over -- and tsk'd a few times and then told me that I have horrible posture and I will now be subjected to several weeks of torture in order to alleviate the consequences of a lifetime of physiological malpractice.

So far, we have four exercises:

(1) Sitting up straight (!) in a chair and pushing my chin back and then bending my head backward until I can touch the back of my head to the back of the chair. [3 sets of 15 repetitions]

(2) Sitting up straight (!) in a chair and pushing my chin back firmly with my left hand and then bending my head backward until I can touch the back of my head to the back of the chair. [3 sets of 15 repetitions]

(3) Sitting up straight (!!) in a chair and pushing my chin back firmly with my left hand and bending my head backward until I can touch the back of my head to the back of the chair  and then pushing my neck up and over the back of the chair until it feels like my spine is going to rupture. [3 sets of 15 repetitions]

(4) Doing push-ups against the exam table while holding my body in a straight line at a 45 degree angle to the table. [1 set of 50 repetitions]

When I am done with those, I am allowed to go home and practice all of them every two hours.

He promises me that, if I'm a good boy and do my exercises, he'll let me reduce them to every four hours. Some day.

But now, it's nap-time...

Up and Down Again

I had been hoping that I'd seen the last of the sore throat, but it came back again. And I can't tell whether it's due to an allergic reaction or a virus.

We had a wonderful Friday evening over at the M&D's, watching The Grandkid while they took a few hours off to try and remember each other's names. (We know how that is.)

It was gratifying to walk in the door and be greeted immediately by the sight of The Grandkid laughing and smiling as though we were the best thing that had happened all day long. And rushing back and forth in the living room from the back wall to the couch, throwing herself against it and erupting in new bouts of laughter each time. She was either very happy to see us, or she had completely gone insane as we were walking in the door.

But we had to get to Brass Tacks right away because it was dinnertime and that has traditionally been a difficult time for her, as she has the attention span of a gnat and usually performs her fly-bys to grab a handful of food-mass before jetting off to places unknown (but thankfully constrained) while we just stand around and wonder how in the e=mc2 she can convert such a small mass into such an overwhelming bundle of energy -- unless she is somehow changing the speed of light as we watch. We try to watch, but she's too fast for us.

The Parental Units took their cue and dashed out to Places Unknown (but hopefully quieter) while we hunkered down and attended to our duties. Cheryl started making dinner, the contents of which had been graciously provided by Deb; as the Designated Grandpa, I threw myself onto the floor and proceeded to go along with whatever crazy idea that The Grandkid came up with for our mutual amusement: we played with dolls, stuffed toys, old cell phones, cat toys, things attached to strings, strings attached to things, and couches which made lousy imitations of slides but made do in a pinch.

Then Grandma called out for some help, so we converted The Grandkid's little table into the Big Tower O' Fun which we pushed up against the counter so that she could help Grandma with dinner -- mostly by stealing some of it off the plate and eating it 'raw' (it was pre-cooked!) before it went into the pan with the rest of the goodies (rice, peas, keilbasa). Then when all that was done, we took the BTOF and converted it back into her little table and ate our dinner. Mostly. We ate, she just grabbed handfuls of keilbasa and stuffed her face with it.

Then it was time for her favorite activity, Bath Time! Which is when I remove any long-sleeved apparel and get ready to be completely soaked and sudsed, or at least make sure that she is. We played with the bath toys for about half an hour before, without any notice, she leaped out of the tub and ran straight for her dresser. Wait! I cried. Your towel! But it was too late. She had already pulled open her drawer and withdrawn the clothes she wished to wear post-bath, and was waiting patiently in front of her dresser with her arms stretched up so that I could lift her onto the changing table -- a first! -- and let her finish dressing. Because she likes doing things by herself.

Alas! her selection did not include a diaper, which at this early stage of her life is still a necessity. So, while distracting her with all sorts of grunting noises as if the business of dressing her for bed was a major effort, I surreptitiously inserted a diaper in-beneath her chosen garment and then let her finish 'dressing', after which I attempted to place her pajamas on top. What followed was a five-minute struggle to fit the PJs (which were obviously too small) onto the rapidly-growing child, which only ended when her frustration with the tight fit was overcome by her fascination with the zipper that sealed the deal.

At last, she was ready for bed. So we brushed teeth and read stories (at the same time) ... and then I made the tragic mistake of showing her videos on my phone. Of her. And she was totally smitten. So the next half-hour was spent sitting on the couch while she watched herself over and over and over again, laughing and saying her name aloud every time a video started again.

And when I finally had to close my phone because The Parents had come home and were ready to put their child to bed for real, she threw a fit for the first time ... because she wasn't ready to stop watching herself.

We made a hasty retreat and left her to the tender care of The Parents.

And when we got home, the full impact of the energy output it takes to amuse a child hit me like a ton of bricks.

I fell asleep in my chair.

And the next day, my throat and head were sore again, and it felt like last weekend all over again.