Monday is Tarot Day: I auditioned for "A Little Night Music" - and can't figure out which character I like best ...

... or which one I can delve most deeply into. Or which one I'd most want to commiserate with, gossip with, have tea and butter cookies with, get tipsy with. Or who's the moodiest.  Or which one I'm moodier than.

The play is all about romance and unrequited (and requited) love.  It's a waltz in twilight.  It's sensual and emotional.  And I often play funny ladies who pull funny faces.

So on the audition form, I wrote I'd like to be the funny lady most (dry, droll, kinda bitchy - but most of that comes from covering up and coping with emotional pain).  And I'd never done that before - actually specified a role preference like that on an audition form.  It felt presumptuous, but it also felt presumptuous to put the larger role first as I have some schedule conflicts.  Thing is, I like them both - they're spectacular and complicated and wear frilly dresses, or maybe even floor-length velvet (which is a big thing for me).

Anyway - then I read for the less-than-funny lady, the larger role  Actually, I sang her main song.  The big song.  And I cried.  And I can't remember ever crying during an audition before (I can remember crying sometimes after), but cry I did.

I'm not entirely sure where this post is going, other than I entered the worlds of two women this evening who have very different agendas, needs, and wants.  And I ended up liking them both equally.  And I felt their pain.  And excitement.  And desires.  And souls.

And that rarely happens during an audition for a show.  And what I'm realizing right now is that not only am I embodying the emotional, watery nature of The Queen of Cups, but the characters I read for show the full gamut of aspects (both upright and reversed) of this marvelous Queen: sensual, nurturing, caring, sensitive, a little crazy-in-love, a little too nervous, jealous, a little manic even.  Entirely desperate and incalculably strong.

And I've never had that happen to me before; to see so clearly how a tarot card can act as the significator for not only myself, but two fictional characters.  All in the course of one twilit night.

Strange 1968 Westinghouse video for designer appliance panels.

http://retrorenovation.com/2012/08/27/strange-1968-westinghouse-film-for-refrigerator-with-decorator-panels/

• Supreme Walnut!
• Rattan!
• Catawba Cherry!
• Astro-Glo Bronze!
• Surftex Black!

Thanks to Pam over at Retro Renovation (a site I visit often and follow on Facebook), my Monday has been made.  Feast your eyes on this sumptuously strange video from Westinghouse circa 1968.  Please watch the whole thing; you'll be glad you did.  I fell like I just took a dive into a groovy bathtub full of late-Sixties design.

And, yes, for those who know me and know the parties I throw with Ben, the idea of "Match Your Parties" is so VERY appealing to me!!

Yard sale: vintage clothing and kitchenware "honey hole". Let the slobbering begin!

The dudes on "American Pickers" call it the "honey hole": a place where  time has seemingly stood still and someone searching for vintage treasures finds a veritable gold mine of items in fantastic shape, of good quality, and in the styles that please their aesthetics. Well, I deem today "Honey Hole Day".  In the quiet suburb of Villa Park, Ben and I, with our adorable Ivy beagle in tow, happened upon a yard sale that blew me away like few ever have.  My first clue that I'd tumbled into something spectacular was when I found a small table holding vintage eyewear.  The women's cat eyeglasses were too small for me, but a pair of men's glasses fit Ben to a "T" - and at fifty cents for the pair, Ben leapt at the chance to look a little more like Harry Crane from "Mad Men".

I knew I'd struck vintage gold when I wandered over to a rack of clothing - and found it to be crammed full of dresses, separates, and children's clothing from the 40s and 50s, mostly in good to excellent condition.  Sadly, the dresses were anywhere from a modern size 0 to a 4, so as they basically would only cover one thigh, I moved along.


A nearby table held piles of vintage boys' clothing and men's shirts, and an open, old suitcase showed off a collection of hankies and scarves - all vintage.  I snapped up two longer, floral scarves, one with Pucciesque flowers, and added them to my pile at the seller's table.

It was at that moment that Ben said, "Um, Honey??? --" in the way that tells me I'm going to be in delicious trouble.  "Honey -- you might want to check out the dishes and kitchen stuff..."

And that's when I learned that the woman who used to live in the house the items were from was a caterer in days gone by.  Tables and shelves and racks held a virtual Woolworth's worth of items: vintage dishes and serving ware and cutlery and anything you can imagine.  If you thought I was breathless and near to wheezing while looking at the clothing (I was; especially when I found the dress in a "fox goes a jumpin'" pattern), it was nothing like my escapades in the homegoods section.  Armload after armload was carefully carried over to my pile, which was beginning to resemble the Matterhorn.

I found the deep desire to speak with the women holding the sale about the vintage clothing.  I learned they found these treasures while searching the house's attic -and encountered hidden closets filled with them (this made me recall actual dreams I'd had about my childhood home, about venturing up into the attic and opening a door I'd never seen before, only to encounter a room full-to-bursting with ladies' tall-sized vintage clothing; but those were dreams and this was real).

After hearing that they were going to take some mouse-bitten items to a clothing recycler, I jumped into action and told them about my friend Alana at Nest Vintage Modern in Brookfield; I truly hope they contact her, because I'm sure she'll be able to recycle/reuse the fabric in a stylish, clever way.  I also referred them to some vintage sellers in the city who will probably give them a fair price for the sartorial gems they were selling at rock-bottom prices.  I really wanted to make sure these pieces were handled with care and that the ladies were given a fair deal.  These weren't yard sale items: they were essentially exhibits in a  museum.


So?  Wondering what I purchased?  Please allow me to give you the Laundry List of Wonder (and I tracked down some photos online to help illustrate):

 - The aforementioned "Harry Crane" men's eyeglasses
 - Two long, vintage floral scarves
  - A dozen barnyard animal "cooky cutters", mint-in-box
 - A white and gold plastic ice bucket
 - A matching white and gold plastic insulated hot&cold pitcher, mint-in-box and never used
 - Two vintage syrup pitchers, with pink and aqua lids
 - A box containing over fifty melamine and melmac dishes, cups, and serving items, in white and aqua.
 - Three vintage Betty Crocker and Better Homes' cookbooks, all in excellent condition
 - A hand-made quilt in pastel floral squares (some containing lavender flowers: very hard-to-find; it's in the dryer right now)
  - One clothing item that actually fit me: a vintage boys' shirt in a "lil' cowpoke roping a lil' steer" pattern.  Label: "Hi Fella" sportswear.  Age 16.  Sanfordized).


My total bill?  $32.50.

Watch that slobbering, will ya?  It's a bit uncouth.

I'll miss Phyllis Diller.

 

It wasn't like she meant the world to me, like a Carol Burnett or Diane Keaton.  I never saw her perform live, and I don't recall every moment she was on a classic 60s TV show.  But I'm gonna miss this woman.  Truly, she was like no other.

Except she was like Madame.  Remember Madame?  I'm speaking of Waylon Flowers' little papier mache grande dame.

As a child, for some reason I couldn't get it around my head that the amazing Phyllis Diller, one of brash laughs and day-glo sequined mini dresses was not the same entity as Madame, Waylon Flowers' better half.  Yes, now I know that one was solid human while the other was solid paper pulp, glue, fabric and feather.  But I was convinced they were one and the same as a child.

Of course, I don't mean to disparage either, but at this said time of Ms. Diller's passing, I just had to share about my childhood foibles.  And also remind you about the brilliance of Waylon Flowers and his Madame.

Here are a few videos of both outrageous women to enjoy.  First, a little Madame:

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kEojmF-qGYU

Next, some moments with Phyllis, wearing my favorite Phyllis outfit of all time:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mH66_tFP8VA

Monday is Tarot Day! That beautiful, priceless feeling of accomplishment

While in the throes of toiling last week on our Broadway Ballot benefit cabaret, one of my fellow castmates, Barb, said these words:  "This is the kind of project that, when you're done, you really feel you accomplished something."

I couldn't agree more.  Like the craftsman pictured in the 8 of Pentacles card, I feel like our combined skill came through - and today we can breathe that sigh of satisfaction in a job well done. 

In the span of eleven days (well, thirteen eventually if you count the two days of performance leading up to the final day, yesterday Sunday) around twenty of us accomplished the Herculean feat of mounting a show with over two dozen numbers, some of which were very complicated (like Sondheim.  Or Cole Porter with eleventy-seventy verses).  And we did it.

The sense of celebration over this task was so very palpable every single night, but the energy shifted as the days wore on.  After Friday's performance, we were so pumped with adrenaline that we danced and goofed and ate like hopped-up five-year-olds at the after-party the theatre threw for us (some of us actually were more hopped-up than the energetic 5-year-old who was a part of the cast!  And what a true trooper he was.)  It was all about letting go of the anxiety which had built up for almost two weeks' time.

Saturday was a lower energy: still grateful that we were, indeed, getting through everything, but more subdued and, frankly, tired.  Something finally had to give and, well, Saturday was quieter somehow.  And there was much yawning.

Then Sunday kicked in and suddenly we became seasoned auteurs who'd been in rehresals for this for months!  There was a strong sense of solidity, in spirit and in skill, that beamed like the sun through each and every performer.  Shoulders were held high.  And when we all met up in the dressing room afterward, many hugs were shared, a few tears were shed.  We left a bit battle-worn, with a  number of heads shaking in disbelief, and a true sense of pride in the gift we gave our audiences every night: our talents, our heart and soul, and our desire to create a benefit we all could feel grateful we were a part of.

I take off my pointed, mystical hat to all my Broadway Ballot Buddies!!  Oh - and we raked in scads of money for the theatre, selling over 97% of all available seats!

August 15 - big things ...

Back in 2003, a ragtag group of us, decked out in "Mad Max"-ish gear, did a post-apocalyptic version of "Tomorrow Belongs to Me" from "Cabaret" - because Mr. Crowe so requested it (he had ties with a company member of Circle Theatre; that's how we got the "gig").  He loved it; he even gave us a pep talk backstage before curtain.  And, after the show, we got to hang for a bit with the band.  And the ladies all got flowers and a bottle of wine.

THE Russell Crowe.  He's very sweet.

I was just pondering today.  Quite often, during the middle of August, I have big things happening.  Last year, I was finishing up my tours for my book, "The Cotton Candy Road Trip" (with the exception of a visit to Santa's Village Azoosment Park).  Back in 2003, I was part of a group of folks from Circle who were essentially "hired" by THE Russell Crowe to open his show at the House of Blues.  Yes, you read that right.  I got to "work" with Russell Crowe.  

No, really.  This really happened.

I really should check my astrological chart to see what's going on in mid-August, because every year brings with a flight of fancy, something exciting.  Like today: an interview I did for the Chicago Tribune was published about the aforementioned Santa's Village and a portion of it talks about my book!

http://www.chicagotribune.com/entertainment/chi-santas-village-amusement-park-20120814,0,6360507.column

And I'm in a musical review over at Wheaton Drama wherein 22 of us do the equivalent, separately, of a lead role in am musical (read my 8/13 blog post).

Egads, I enjoy the Ides of August.

Monday is Tarot Day: Energy in reserve.

You may notice, if you take a look back, that I posted nothing since last Monday.  Nothing, nada, nie mam nic (that's Polish for "nothing").  And it's not like I had nothing to say; no , that wasn't the reason at all.  The cause for my little vacay?  I've been bone-tired, spent, and double-dog done.

My hubby and I are helping out a good friend by taking part in a benefit for a local theatre.  We and about twenty other folks are all pulling together a musical review in just over a week.  A musical review wherein each and every person has the material that would translate easily into a lead role in just about any regular book musical.  Now, I've done summer stock, I've done all-day, 9-5 rehearsals.  But this one, because of the amount of songs and the small amount of time to really perfect them, is kicking our collective ass.

This evening's rehearsal includes my big solo (oh, I do dream of playing this role for reals!): Ella Peterson's show-stopper, "I'm Going Back" from "Bells Are Ringing".  I've also recently been added to "Moonshine Lullaby" from "Annie Get Your Gun" (Annie was my first lead role back in high school, so it's so sweet to return to her world, even for a little bit), and then the hippie-dippie "Good Morning Starshine" from "Hair".

Now, I love all these songs, all the women I get to portray, all the folks I share the stage with.  But this translates to a lot.  A lot.  A LOT of "A LOTness".  And so I'm storing up my energies tonight, and tomorrow night, and probably even on Wednesday, so that I'll be spunky for Thursday's dress rehearsal and the weekend of shows all this rehearsal is leading up to.

The Nine of Wands guy might just as well have been hobbling through our rehearsals,.  He's a bit battle-worn, but at the same time, he knows there's still more ahead of him to tackle.  He's wise enough to store his energies for the coming battle.

Or maybe it's not a battle.  Maybe it's chorus for "Blow, Gabriel, Blow", ensemble for "The Time Warp", a big song from "Bells are Ringing", another big song from "Annie Get Your Gun", a number from "Hair" where he gets to play stoned, one of four folks singing tight Sondheim harmonies in "The Gun Song" and, later, a part of a true Sondheim vocal monster, "A Weekend in the Country", finished up by a rousing version of "Run, Freedom, Run".

Take a look at his face.  Yeah, maybe that's what's on his schedule for the week ...

Monday is Tarot Day - The Empress

I rarely pull The Empress card when doing readings for myself.  Oh, I have folks pull it quite often when I'm reading for them, especially (no surprise) women.  And, quite often, what comes to the fore after speaking with them is something on the order of needing to reconnect with the feminine or seeing what "maternal energy" means to them.

Yep - those sort of things.  The things that, well, I sometimes have a hard time fully embracing in myself.  Not that I'm boyish, but I've never completely thought of myself as ultra-feminine or frilly.  And I'm not a mom, so ...

So when I was out walking in the arboretum this morning, I really couldn't quite figure out why image of The Empress hit me square in the Third Eye.  Then I decided to meditate upon the image this afternoon.

She's beautiful,isn't she?  She's the ultimate in Girl Power.  A strong femininity.  Fecundity.  And she's completely at ease in the natural world.

"Hmmm... go on," I feel myself saying to myself.

Inner feminine wisdom is receptive and nurturing.  It's strong, it can take a stand, but it doesn't act aggressively.  It holds others in a warm embrace.  It gives.

Interestingly, I'm part of a musical review in the next week or so, and all us actors are putting it together very quickly.  And I know there's some fear regarding how speedy the rehearsal process is.

What's been coming up for me?  I'm actually pretty calm about it all - and I have this deep desire to make sure everyone else is calm, too.  A few things about certain numbers are a little scary, but certainly not outside our scope of ability.  I'm looking forward to fashioning this show, to helping it as best I can, to giving birth to a swell piece of theatre.

Hm.  I think I can relate to this Empress better than I ever thought possible.