Two Weeks Left

Tonight I am skipping an audition in which I had originally had a great deal of interest. Loyal readers may remember the name Matt Thompson or, if not the name, the small world circumstance of our multiple meetings. However, a little reminder never hurts, so here goes.

In July of 2005, I met Matt during a 24-hour theatre project here in San Diego. He was the writer for -- and I one of the actors in -- a play our team of five would write and produce in that short time. In December of 2005, we crossed paths again in Nashville, where he was directing a show my roommate would soon be performing aboard a cruise ship. In September of 2006, back in San Diego, I did not run into Matt directly but it was suspected that my first Blithe Spirit costume mock-up was cut to Matt's measurements, which the costumer had close at hand.

Now, when I met Matt that July in San Diego, we quickly discovered that we had a mutual friend in Nashville. Matt had been hired through a Nashville company (the same which hired my roomie) to act aboard a cruise ship. His acting partner on that ship was my friend and co-worker/actor Richard Daniel. Together, they had performed in a script which Matt had co-written with the fellow who hired him, Nashville actor and Artistic Director Matt Chiorini, who I've also had multiple occasions to meet. That script, If the Shoe Fits, is to be produced at the Coronado Playhouse in March and is auditioning there tonight. To be directed by Matt Thompson.

For the pure lark of the thing, I had every intention to audition for this show until I realized that if I were to be cast it would create two undesirable conflicts. First, rehearsals would begin immediately, while I am committed to two more weeks of Earnest. Though that would make for two rather long weeks, it is the second overlapping conflict that's the clincher. If cast, I would be committed to the final weeks of the Shoe script when a third show of definite interest begins rehearsals. As neither of these shows pay a more than modest stipend, I've chosen to give this one a miss and place my eggs in the third show's basket, hoping very much to be cast. If I'm lucky, I'll be telling you more about that one in months to come.

In the meantime, Earnest continues to be a somewhat surprising success. Audiences aren't as turned-off by the updating as once feared and attendance continues to be good. The audience this Friday, however, may be in for a surprise.

San Diego Gas & Electric is cutting power to some 700 Chula Vista customers, including the theatre, at 10 o'clock Friday night. Our show, which starts at 8, usually runs at least 20 minutes past the hour. In an attempt to avoid a last scene blackout, our producer has chosen to bump the call and the curtain time up 15 minutes, to begin at 7:45. He has also become convinced that SDG&E will postpone the blackout 10 to 15 minutes after 10 on his request. I, on the other hand, am convinced that we have given Murphy an open invitation to visit.

Despite an attempt to bank the show between two 15 minute cushions, potential problems have not been completely eliminated. First, we may have to hold the curtain for a ticket-bearing audience that does not obediently filter through the doors before a revised curtain time. Second, SDG&E may not in actuality postpone their work to accommodate a community theatre show. Together, if we cannot start the show before our advertised curtain time and the blackout occurs promptly at 10, the final scene of the show will go dark, leaving actors and patrons alike caught in a blackened theatre.

There are emergency lights in the house, I have been assured (though none backstage or in the dressing room), but to be safe I will be carrying a flashlight on my person Friday so that no one is left to dodder unaided out of the building.

Driving our patrons home on a Friday night without working traffic lights, however, I'll leave to the producer.

An Instance in Point

"Thirty-five is a very attractive age. Society is full of women of the very highest birth who have of their own free choice remained 35 for years!"

There were titters among the cast last night as I delivered these lines on the evening of my 35th birthday. Cecily, in point, was particularly horrified to have to wait until she was so old as thirty-five to be married. I suppose it was the first time the import of the age Oscar Wilde had chosen for Jack's ward to come of age had truly hit me. Old maid territory. Hand me my teeth, whippersnapper; I'm old. Or, as my Polish grandmother likes to say (repeatedly), I'm ready for the boneyard.

Well, okay, maybe the boneyard is still a few years away. We'll see. Meanwhile, I celebrated my birthday backstage by rising to a blog challenge laid down by Gryphon. It was yet another iPod shuffle meme, but too fun not to try. So, Gryph, here you go: the soundtrack to my life.

WAKING UP: Olivia Newton-John -- Suddenly. The wheels are in motion.
FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL: Vertical Horizon -- He's Everything You Want. Well... there are multiple ways one might be "schooled." ;)
FALLING IN LOVE: Van Morrison -- Whenever God Shines His Light
FIGHT SONG: Linda Ronstadt -- Heat Wave. "Can't keep from crying. It's tearing me apart."
BREAKING UP: Amanda Marshall -- Fall from Grace
PROM: Linda Ronstadt -- That'll Be the Day. I found this particularly funny as I was never asked to prom.
LIFE: Tori Amos -- The Waitress. Oh dear. More sweet tea?
MENTAL BREAKDOWN: Broadway Cast -- Kiss Me, Kate (Finale). Now there's a wench!
DRIVING: Robert Miles -- Children. Quite an appropriate driving instrumental.
FLASHBACK: J.D. Souther -- You're Only Lonely. Umm hmmm, you know that's right!
WEDDING: Take 6 -- Biggest Part of Me. One of my favorite Ambrosia songs, covered by the Christian sextet. Couldn't pick a more appropriate wedding song if I tried.
CHILDBIRTH: Jack Johnson -- Upside Down. Either it's a breach or "I'll share this love I've found with everyone."
FINAL BATTLE: Billy Joel -- Travelin' Prayer
DEATH SCENE: Blues Brothers -- Jailhouse Rock. Okaaaaay....
FUNERAL SONG: Joan Osborne -- Ladder. Good news, I'm going to heaven. Even if I have to climb there.
END CREDIT: Pele Juju -- Walk & Talk. Probably only one of my readers will know the "Wild Women of Worldbeat" from Santa Cruz whose CD I bought after a gig in Chattanooga, but it's a jaunty little end credit.

Now, in response to Gryph's "tag," my mother also took this challenge and added a few categories of her own, distinguishing having children from childbirth and marriage from the wedding, as well as including the in-laws that come with said wedding. So, here are the anthems, according to my iPod, for those events, should they ever approach my life.

IN-LAWS: Shannon Curfman -- Never Enough
CHILDREN: Joan Osborne -- Poison Apples. (Mom's going to LOVE that one!)
MARRIAGE: Tori Amos -- Bells for Her

And there you have it. The Soundtrack of a life I've barely lived thus far.

Maybe I'm not so old after all.

This and That

The tall ship Lady Washington (a.k.a. Pirates of the Caribbean's HMS Interceptor) made an appearance in San Diego this weekend, meeting the Maritime Museum's cutter Californian in a cannon battle on San Diego Bay. Though Orrick and I traipsed down to Harbor Drive to witness the action, the event was obviously geared more toward those who purchased a $55 ticket to board the ships and chase down the enemy. Few cannonballs were fired as play boaters weaved in and out of the warring waters.

As is usually my luck, I had camera difficulties while trying to capture the inaction -- first with my digital camera, whose batteries died, and then with my film camera, which was at the end of a roll -- but there are, at least, a few more shots of Lady Washington waiting to be developed for my mother's amusement. And depending on when she arrives next in San Diego, she might even be able to catch the museum's current exhibit: Pirates of the Pacific. My mother, for those who don't know, believes that she is a pirate, and therefore would thoroughly enjoy perusing the booty of her fellow buccaneers. ;)

My father, despite a love of history, has other interests in mind for his next visit to "America's Finest City." That interest lies in the heart of Pacific Beach, in a little Italian restaurant which hand-rolls its own pasta. And the interest in that particular restaurant stems from its specialty item, an item which is not usually to be found -- timpano.

Timpano is the traditional Italian dish of Carnival - a means of emptying the cupboard of all the verboten goodies one must avoid during Lent. Timpano, from the Latin or Italian word for "drum," is made by lining a drum-like dish with pastry and filling it with layers of pasta, sauce, meatballs, sauce, sausages, sauce, eggs, and more sauce. The drum is then baked and the timpano is sliced and served with three additional sauces, one for each color of the Italian flag (a pesto, an alfredo, and a tomato sauce). Ever since the movie Big Night was released in 1986, featuring the assembly of a very special timpano, my father has wanted to try it. And though now he knows where to find it, his schedule has kept him from making the trek to PB.

Twice during my father's last visit I tried -- on nights I did not have to go to the theatre -- to coax him home from work early enough to eat out. Alas, a heavy work load would not permit it. So, I did the next best thing to attempting a home-made timpano (for which I did not have an appropriate pan); I made an original Pasta Jambalaya Sans Shrimp. Pasta, sauce, sausages, egg, and (instead of meatballs) chicken. After all, along the same pre-Lenten lines as timpano, jambalaya is the tradional cupboard-cleaning dish of Mardi Gras. Good, yes. But not quite the same thing. Come hell or high water, my father will get to PB on his next trip west.

And both parents should be glued to the television set tonight, like I will be, for the return of NBC's Heroes. With regards to Sylar, my predictions this season include these two ideas: the importance of saving the cheerleader Claire (both to the Heroes and to her horn-rimmed father) was in keeping Sylar from absorbing her immortal powers; and the importance of absorbing powers will become more evident as the underplayed Peter Petrelli becomes the only Hero who could meet the all-powerful Sylar in a Harry Potter-meets-Voldemort battle of equal strength.

Over a Bushel

The second review has been seen, and the show is now out of the printed word woods. Last night, on the way to the theatre, I picked up a copy of Chula Vista's free weekly newspaper, The Star-News, and quickly skimmed the article, making sure no one had been singled out or skewered before acquiring copies for everyone. It seemed that a synopsis had been written, a comment on our changes made, and actors named only for portraying the parts which propel the plot. On closer inspection in the dressing room, however, I realized that two of us had been singled out -- myself and our Miss Prism.

To further stir up the pot there are a couple of well-meaning mother-types – Gwendolyn’s mother, Mrs. Bracknell, and Cecily’s tutor, Miss Prism – who hover over the scene convinced they are out for the good of their charges.

Kelly Lapczynski (Mrs. Bracknell) and [actor P. H.] (Miss Prism) help illuminate the production, particularly Lapczynski, whose brashness complements her New York accent. Other cast members include ....

Leave it to me to provide copies of a review that lists the leads only as "other cast members" but mentions me specifically. Brilliant.

That little bit of unintended "look at me!" aside, I certainly don't mind reading that I particularly illuminate a production.

Not at all.

Second Week in Earnest

Tonight we begin the second week of performances, having finally opened the show that began rehearsals before Halloween. Overall our opening weekend, if not opening night itself, was a success. One review has already been published, calling my “abrasive” Mrs. B a “character we easily love to dislike.” Another review should appear on the morrow. As both critics viewed the rocky opening performance, I’ll reserve further comment until we’ve seen the second.

As the official food props mistress for this show, I’ve formed habits that remind one of the old Army slogan “we do more before 9:00 a.m. than most people do all day.” Before I’ve even brewed a pot of coffee, the oven is preheating for the batch of cookies (our “tea-cakes”) which I am dropping by the teaspoon onto a cookie sheet (I made a double batch of dough ahead of time). After I’ve put the “cakes” in the oven, I start a pot of coffee and, while it brews, I dice cucumbers and onions for the cream cheese spread that will fill our cucumber sandwiches. By the time those are daintily crust-free and cut to quarters, as is a special sandwich for an actor who doesn’t like cream cheese, the cookies are ready to place on a cooling rack. While they cool, I de-crust, flatten, butter, and roll yet more bread slices to make attractive little bread-and-butter rollups. Then I have time to chuck a little cream and Equal into my coffee cup and pour some java for my first morning sip before going on to ice the now-cool-enough cookies. A dozen dips in the quick and easy icing bath, and – voila! – the food props are finished. Meanwhile, my morning friend Rachael Ray has only made one measly little dish. Ha! Take that, sweetheart! ;)

Just kidding. We love Rachael around this house. Step off!

I’ve actually been quite the little mother hen for this show all around. We made many and major changes to the script, all of which I recorded for the tech crew who would not join us until “Hell Week.” Until then, I held the book – at the ready to supply an actor his lines should he forget them during rehearsals. Of course I supplied the food props, but I also supplied the paper props (such as Ernest’s business card), and moral support. After dress rehearsal, I was mending hems. After opening, I was the cast go-to for finding the review. Ah, my little chickadees!

After many years as a professional stage manager, it seems I have difficulty not stepping up to do what must be done. Fortunately, this time, I don’t think I stepped on any toes.

My toes, however, await the second review.

So Many Thoughts, So Little Time

Yes, it is the new year and the post I promised would come with it is running a little late. The problem, you see, is that I have SEVERAL ideas running through my brain and very little time to give proper attention to any one of them. I am currently in the middle (or, actually, very near the end) of what we theatre folk like to refer to as "Hell Week," the final week before a show opens and a critical audience bearing bags of half-rotten fruit is allowed to cross the threshhold. We're adding lights, sounds, costumes, props, and scenery to what we've attempted to rehearse around two or three major holidays and preparing for a preview audience tomorrow night and a paying one on Friday. Thus, my time has been well spoken for.

On top of the regular rigors of Hell Week, I've given myself the added responsibility of being our show's Food Prop Mistress. Our show is laden with cucumber sandwiches, bread and butter sandwiches, and little tea-cakes, all of which I am preparing at home in the afternoon before rehearsals. And as these are dress rehearsals, I also lose a great deal of time to the attempt to tame my mane. You can see that blogging, at the moment, is right out.

Not that I haven't had things to tell you. I have. Christmas was eventful. And the week between Christmas and New Year's was particularly rife with good story fodder, as Orrick made his first trip with me to the wilds of Tennessee to celebrate the end of the year. One day of backwoods mudding in particular comes to mind. So do a stop at the ruins of a once-loved theatre, a visit to a better-loved radio station, and a pub-crawling expedition with best-loved family.


Then there are New Year's Resolutions and my plans to write the smallest yet most well-rounded self-help book ever. There are of course stories about getting the show up and running, satisfying the differing palates and preferences of numerous cast members, and the theory that no good deed goes unpunished.

But these are all, alas, stories for another time. For now, I must curl my hair and prepare for our last run of the show without an audience.

PS: Here's a dizzying thought -- last month, I experienced December in San Diego for the first time. This month, I'm experiencing January for the third.