Those dancing feet

I don’t know exactly how it started…

My feet have a mind of their own.  They like to kick covers aside and make sure they’re free.  They can get wildly out of control when tickled (which they hate, by the way).  And they get their own Christmas presents.

Which obviously means they have to open the presents themselves.

The first time my feet tried to open a Christmas present, the rest of the family just laughed.  They probably thought my feet were kidding around and would quit partway through.  But my feet are determined.  Once they put their mind to something, they do it.  And they have fun in the process!

So imagine my feet’s excitement when they learned they’d get to tap in the ensemble of 42nd Street this summer!  To put this in perspective: of the previous twenty-one musicals I’d been in, my feet only tapped in two of them.  Most musicals are lucky if they get one tap number.  42nd Street has four.

But it doesn’t stop there.  42nd Street has a total of twelve dance numbers.  And there’s almost as much choreography backstage as onstage.  Of my eleven costume changes, three are quick changes of less than a minute.  Any “down time” during the show is spent either presetting or hanging up costumes.  No other show has left me so exhausted or made my entire body ache all over.  There were even a few rehearsals when I completely broke down in my car and had to wait until I stopped sobbing before I could drive home.

So why do it?  Why bother putting ourselves through all of this?

Because when it works… it’s magical.

Julian: Eyes shining like a kid at Christmas, dreaming of parties and opening nights, the tinsel and glitter of musical comedy.  Just look at yourself–a speck of dust on this stage, indistinguishable from the forty other specks of dust I put there!

Peggy: I know that, Mr. Marsh.  But put all those specks together, you have something alive and beautiful that can reach out to a thousand people we’ve never seen before.

Julian: Broadway dreams, Sawyer!  We’ve all had ’em!

Peggy: Well, I mean to hold on to mine, Mr. Marsh!

Julian: So did I.  Sweet dreams, kid.

Peggy: They are.  I’m a speck of dust in your show.

42nd Street runs through September 25 at the Georgetown Palace Theatre and tickets are available here!

Good night, baby

It’s tech week.  That means late night rehearsals with lots of added elements (lights, makeup, costumes, etc.) making our brains explode before we open on Friday.

This is how I feel right now.

Till then I’ll just get married vicariously

Two years ago today, I caught the bouquet at my cousin’s wedding.

I know that’s “supposed” to mean I’m next, but for a single gal about to turn thirty who has never been in a relationship, that’s kind of hard to believe.

My mom was 25 when she married my dad, so growing up I always assumed that was the normal age to get married and something would just magically happen by then.  Well obviously not.

I had my fair share of crushes over the years: classmates at school, boys I met at summer camp, acquaintances I hardly ever spoke to, the occasional celebrity, etc.  Most of them had no idea.  Of the few who knew, most didn’t feel the same way.  The one exception was Brian, who I met at summer camp the year I didn’t go to Camp Fire Resident Camp.  I was 12, he was 13, and I never saw him again after those two weeks.

Then junior year of high school happened, when I fell head over heels in love with one of my best friends.  Apparently my 17-year-old heart didn’t care that he had a girlfriend who went to another school.  I actually ended up telling him because I thought he needed to know, even though by that point he’d already figured it out months before.  We never “officially” went out, but I did get my first kisses that summer before he left for college.  (And that is the shortest possible version of my personal soap opera.)

There have been a few significant guys since then: friends in the Catholic community in college, castmates in musicals I’ve been in, etc.  (At one point there was a string of like ten shows in a row where I had a crush on someone else in the cast, haha.)  I got asked out on a date and had NO CLUE what I was doing.  I’ve gained a couple of brothers.  I joined catholicmatch.com for awhile and messaged back and forth with a few people, but ultimately I decided I was focusing on the wrong things and I let my subscription expire.

It’s hard to explain, but I believe God has a plan for me and I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be at this moment.  Experience has shown me that I can push myself much farther when other people are counting on me, which feels like the faintest suggestion that God might want me to be married someday so He can really teach me how to love through a husband and family.  On the other hand, I’m at peace with the fact that I might never marry.  Either way, it’s impossible to tell what the future holds.

Anyway, back to catching that bouquet…

A little less than a month afterwards, I was cast in Shrek the Musical as Mama Shrek / Tapping Rat / Ensemble.

As one of my roles in the ensemble, I got to wear a wedding dress.

And that’s enough for now.

I know my sister like I know my own mind

Today is my sister’s birthday, so I figured it was a good time for the previously mentioned sister post that will make her cry for at least a month.

Monica is two years, two months, and two weeks older than me.  Dad took these pictures at the hospital when she met me for the first time.

Sometimes I loved having a sister.  I always had someone to play with.

Sometimes I hated having a sister.  She knew exactly how to get on my nerves and she would not go away.  But she probably felt the same way about me, which might explain why we fought so much…  Like the time she slammed a door in my face and knocked out one of my teeth (it was already loose, but still).  Or the time I kicked her head into an air conditioning vent.  And of course the fights were always about the stupidest things.  When she left for college, I was delighted to discover that we got along much better once we didn’t have to live together anymore!

They say a picture is worth a thousand words, so here we go…

And a few more…

I wouldn’t want to live with her again, but I love that she’s always just a text or phone call away.  When you’ve known someone literally your whole life and shared so much together, you’re connected forever.

So HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MONICA!

(Now stop crying.)