Opera @ MindSay 
phantom of the opera
The Phantom of the Opera was fantastic! Even baby could hear enough of the music, and kicked my ribs excitedly at the big cresendos. I felt like I was in upper society, 99% of the people there were in formal dress, including Cal and I, I was lucky that Cal's mom had bought me a cute black maternity dress!
I'm glad that I was a 'virgin' of the theatre, it was awesome XDXD
Cal can now hear baby's heartbeat through my stomach without the aid of a stethoscope, and it kicked him when he talked to it with the side of his face to my belly :)
Thank god for tax returns as well, Cal's and my money worries are quelled for now :D
.Last week, since my schedule opened up a bit, I came in to work in the costume shop Tuesday afternoon and evening, Wednesday morning, afternoon and evening, and Thursday morning and afternoon. Even though what I had been working on didn't come out exceptionally well, I felt accomplished. I had really worked hard.
.I came in Friday because I had some extra time. My co-designer immediately bitched me out about cleaning up after myself in the shop (something she never manages to do) and was incredibly unenthusiastic about the sort-of-Roman skirt I had constructed. I was totally crestfallen. I stuck around, eager to show that I could be of service, but she never offered me something to work on with her except bending a crown into shape. Finally, I stopped her in what she was doing and said, "Can we just sit down right now and figure out a timetable--when I'm going to be doing things and when you're going to be doing things and when they need to be finished. Please." She looked at me before turning to the skirt on which she was working. She stared at the skirt, said, "Umm..." and never finished her sentence. At that point, I was incredibly frustrated. I waited five more minutes, her still blowing me off, before finally saying, "I think I'm going to go," and just heading out.
.I had a message on my voicemail yesterday from my professor telling me he sees my co-designer working but really thinks I need to be spending more time in the shop and working more toward the show. I was flabbergasted. And furious. I spent every spare second (other than Saturday, my only free day on the weekends) in the shop... and here he was accusing me of not working on the show! I'M SO BUSY IN LIFE THAT I HAVEN'T UPDATED MY BLOG IN POSSIBLY A MONTH--AND HE THINKS I'M NOT WORKING HARD ENOUGH!!!!! Obviously my codesigner, the cunt, said something. These are conclusions he could not have reached on his own. He's never in the shop to know those things, so someone would have to have told him this. SHE would have had to have told him this.
.My first thought was to drop the opera and just costume some dance piece for credit, but I know my professor would be completely disappointed. I just have to do the grown-up thing--I have to confront my co-designer. I have to tell her, "You're wrong about me, and this is why (you stupid home-schooled bitch)." I, of course, would not say the things in parentheses. I fucking hate drama when it's not where it belongs--in a box, on a screen, or on a stage.
Opera, e-bay, warps and ceu’s. what do these have in common? They have all been pulling at me when I should be reading My Antonia by Willa Cather for the book group I formed – women reading women authors. I don’t generally have a problem prioritizing.
Now the opera I had no control over, ticket nights are set by the company and when Jim reminded me at 3 pm yesterday while we talked in the bathtub that we had opera tickets I blinked because I had completely forgotten. So I washed my hair, got out the aveda phimollient to set the funky messy hair he loves, actually put makeup on my newly unreddened face ( I had the second laser treatment and it’s great) and dressed in black mohair and silver earrings. I even wore real shoes instead of clogs for this event. Sadly the perform it in the largest and least acoustically fine house in Portland so they can sell tons of seats and so some of the voices get lost- but not the mezzo lead- she was spectacular. And this Rossini opera has a lot of comic relief which helps when there isn’t a lot of plot line.
Then today I want to finish wrapping the warp for my next project- an uncharacteristically me brown tweed fabric. Colors I never wear but that would make a great skirt. I am making three yards of it and lets hope I get something useable. If not I have another tote bag – duh-
And my ebay sweater was sent to the wrong person and I got her trashy purple robe. So I mailed the robe to the correct purchaser and she was supposed to send me the sweater but has not done it. So that is a small twist. But what calls tome mostly are the continuing ed units I need for my national certification. Which only require a cozy sofa, time to read the materials and take the tests and maybe a fine to keep me cozy and in one spot. They let you see the test first and you can skin the book and answer Q’s as you go along and then I sell the book on ebay- unmarked and practically new. Works quite well. But what I really want to do is read My Antonia and weave or finished the sleeve for a soft pink bed sweater I am making so I can then crochet the edges and add pom-poms.
Are you all seeing what a large part of my life is spent in bed or the bath? They are two of my special joys. A long hot bath and then to get into bed with lots of down pillows and comforters and my cat and a good book. I am old enough to have deserved this small indulgence and feel it makes me a much nicer person than when I go without.
And I have been meaning to tell you that I spell quite well but type badly and hate t proofread my own stuff. So suck it up. ( I typed that with a smile)
The first full live opera I ever saw was Opera Colorado's Manon Lescaut. There is a belief that opera is never an acquired thing, it either takes you over immediately or never. It was immediate for me. Sitting in the nosebleed section I was taken to tears. and was hooked for life. of course subtitles helped me immeasurably. I had only gone to the opera because a student of mine had an uncle who was singing and the family had been sweet to me one morning that week by having the singer show up in my classroom singing happy birthday. and so I labored along for a few years seeing good albeit not world class opera. Central City Colorado had The Teller operahouse and you needed a fan because it was a 19th century house and the balcony tickets were placed in hell. but it only slightly detracted from my first experience of the Magic Flute- live. The queen of the night remains one of my favorite characters. then i went on to Verdi and Puccini and more Mozart and then climbed my way to the top of opera when I cried and moaned through Tosca at New York City Opera. since then I have had the thrill of visiting with Lucia while Mad, laughed through Gianni Schicci, gnashed my teeth at Turandots's impossible demands and identified with Carmen's audacious flirting. I even confess I slept through parts of Die Meistersinger but who could blame me?
Which brings me to reflect on the death of Beverly Sills. To most Americans she is the zoftig redhead called Bubbles with the great laugh and sublime political skill. But most people will not have heard that early voice which could travel anywhere and ring high over the orchestra. As with so many performing artists, their professional lives are far too short for those who love them. luckily there are recordings from the early days to remind us why they were so beloved in the firstlace. Ever listen to early Frank Sinatra singing Old Man River? he isn't the stylist of the blues eye rat pack fame. he is a just a transcendent tenor singing from the heart. And so it is with Sills, not as fiery and dramatic as Callas but consistent, funny, earthy, accessible and our brooklyn born dreams do come alive homegrown girl So goodbye Ms Silverman. I will say El Male Rachamon.
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