Shaking off the Coal Dust
Our final two performances of the play what I'm in--well, what I was in--(which rhymes with "Wi-Manes") went very well. 
I regret to say that we never achieved that much sought-after "perfect" night where everything went exactly as planned and all lines were uttered in their proper order and no flubs made. However, we also never had a much dreaded trainwreck night where everything went wrong either. This I can live with.
I also regret to say that we never had a show during which I wasn't sick liken unto a very sick dog. I really had punched through my cold of the first week's run. However, Ash had not only given me her cold, but also her bronchitis, which caught up to me a few days later. I'm still hacking and wheezing from that, but thanks to liberal amounts of Dayquil and Halls losenges I managed to survive this week's shows with no loss of voice.
After our matinee performance yesterday, we struck the set, dismantling our beautiful coal mine interior/exterior spinning walls and working conveyer belt set pieces. (See the cast picture above for a glimpse at our cool set.) We also threw all our costumes into the laundry basket for the final time. (And in the case of my pants, it will probably be the final time they're ever used, as they have numerous holes in the butt of them caused by the battery acid that leaked out of our coal-mining head lamp belt-battery pack. I was frankly glad I had worn dark underwear for both nights this week, as there were holes clear through to the skin. My own ass, fortunately, retains no superfluous holes.)
Final day on a play is always sad for me. I've been in a few shows before where I was glad to see final day, but this wasn't one of them. I really had a blast working with all of my fellow castmates, all of whom are quite skilled in the acting department, as well as the director and the other true pros who run the theatre here. We had fantastic audiences unhampered by any sudden snowy weather, which is always much appreciated.
I fully intended to lop off my moustache as soon as curtain call was over and I made much of that to my fellow castmates. Unfortunately, I made much of it to my wife as well and it turned out she is much against the idea. As much of a freak as the mustache makes me look, it is her considered opinion that the lack of a mustache would make me look like an even bigger freak, not to mention like a five-year-old, and I should just tough it out and grow the goatee back beneath it. And she's very very serious about this. I would much prefer just lopping everything off and starting over from scratch, which is why I should have just kept my big mouth shut about it in the first place and gone ahead with my plan. However, now that I know her feelings on the matter, I'm loathe to lop least I lose more than my `stache.
I regret to say that we never achieved that much sought-after "perfect" night where everything went exactly as planned and all lines were uttered in their proper order and no flubs made. However, we also never had a much dreaded trainwreck night where everything went wrong either. This I can live with.
I also regret to say that we never had a show during which I wasn't sick liken unto a very sick dog. I really had punched through my cold of the first week's run. However, Ash had not only given me her cold, but also her bronchitis, which caught up to me a few days later. I'm still hacking and wheezing from that, but thanks to liberal amounts of Dayquil and Halls losenges I managed to survive this week's shows with no loss of voice.
After our matinee performance yesterday, we struck the set, dismantling our beautiful coal mine interior/exterior spinning walls and working conveyer belt set pieces. (See the cast picture above for a glimpse at our cool set.) We also threw all our costumes into the laundry basket for the final time. (And in the case of my pants, it will probably be the final time they're ever used, as they have numerous holes in the butt of them caused by the battery acid that leaked out of our coal-mining head lamp belt-battery pack. I was frankly glad I had worn dark underwear for both nights this week, as there were holes clear through to the skin. My own ass, fortunately, retains no superfluous holes.)
Final day on a play is always sad for me. I've been in a few shows before where I was glad to see final day, but this wasn't one of them. I really had a blast working with all of my fellow castmates, all of whom are quite skilled in the acting department, as well as the director and the other true pros who run the theatre here. We had fantastic audiences unhampered by any sudden snowy weather, which is always much appreciated.
I fully intended to lop off my moustache as soon as curtain call was over and I made much of that to my fellow castmates. Unfortunately, I made much of it to my wife as well and it turned out she is much against the idea. As much of a freak as the mustache makes me look, it is her considered opinion that the lack of a mustache would make me look like an even bigger freak, not to mention like a five-year-old, and I should just tough it out and grow the goatee back beneath it. And she's very very serious about this. I would much prefer just lopping everything off and starting over from scratch, which is why I should have just kept my big mouth shut about it in the first place and gone ahead with my plan. However, now that I know her feelings on the matter, I'm loathe to lop least I lose more than my `stache.
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