Baby-sitting gig

Tonight, i’m sitting in the dark and listening to On Agate Hill, a Lee Smith novel. I’m not sure it is something I would pick up on my own, but it is interesting enough.

This weekend and next I’m running lights and being that stage manager type person for the visiting artists. The show is one woman telling the significant parts accompanied by a musician on dulcimer and occasionally banjo. It reminds me a little of Silver River, but really only as far as it is one woman performing something slightly depressing. But it is six performances and ninety minutes.

I really do enjoy shows like this though. They’re usually fairly simple in and out and the folks who perform are easy going once they know they’re in good hands.

And I get to be distracted while my husband is off meeting rock stars in hotel bars.

 

Closing night!

In a few short moments, I’ll be getting in my car to head off to the theater for the last time on this production. I’m not working the strike (yeah!) because I’m not needed, so after tonight I won’t be going back for this show. I get to have a glorious ten days off before I start a new show - and that one is pretty much a babysit job.

It’s always a bit bittersweet to close a show. You’ve gotten used to seeing people on a regular basis. There’s a routine you get comfortable doing. And not to mention the adrenaline rush from running a show. We’ll run this one last time, have a party over at Spice Street and then all say adieu. Tomorrow the designers will begin clearing out the set, props, costume and Monday the lights will come down.

Meanwhile, I’ll be having a quiet time with the Bald One. We’ll do some yard work (because it needs it) and a bit of grocery shopping in preparation for Monday’s brunch, which will likely flow into a cookout much later. It’ll be a quiet, restful two days in preparation for a four day work week where I actually get to come home and relax, or do things around the hous or whatever instead of do theater.

Don’t get me wrong, I love working on shows and all the fun that we have together…but by the end of the run, I look forward to sitting quietly at home with my cats or taking a walk in the neighborhood after dinner. Or, my personal greatest pleasure, eating dinner on a plate at a table.

Tonight will be filled with final moments. The last places call for this cast, the last time I hear the joke about the guy’s wedding night and - thank everything that is holy - the last time I have to clean up the mess from the Anvil Chorus bit. Then we’ll all have a drink in congratulations and off to our own separate lives, knowing full well there will be some other time.

 

always get the clue sheet

Last night was one of those nights I dread as a sub-SPT stage manager. The night where things break and you have to fix it or work around it.

Quick background info: most theaters of a decent size have a master electrician who is either running the show or has their well-trained apprentice running the show for lights. A similar situation happens for sound. Or what might be the case is you have a well-rounded technical director who does everything from build the set to changing a blown light. My level has me running the show and doing all the fixing. Usually this is no big deal, as I can paint, follow cords and fix silly little things.

Every once in a while though, I have a show where I don’t get all my clue sheets. I often chance it and hope nothing breaks. Or if something does break, I hope it is an easy fix. Not so lucky tonight.

Last night I let the lights warm up and ran sound to check the speakers. I swept up and started walking the stage while shuffling a deck of cards. Then I noticed one light out. Then another. And a pair upstage. All in all, I had six lights not coming up. Without a clue sheet, I didn’t know which channels were out or what the official purpose of the lights were. With the number of instruments not behaving, I’m betting it is either a breaker or a dimmer pack being the source of the problem. When switching the breakers off and on doesn’t solve the problem and no way of knowing where the pack is, not to mention the mob of people now filling the lobby, we re-write the two affected cues and fix a bit of blocking and run the show.

After the show, on my way to get a drink with the house manager, my phone rings. It’s the lighting designer apologizing for not calling sooner and asking for the 411. I give him the run down and he says he’ll be by tomorrow. He also apologizes for not giving me a clue sheet before now.

This afternoon had him being one of the many calls I received (odd, that). The problem was very very easy - the plug from the dimmer pack to the outlet had fallen loose from the outlet. A quick shove back into the ceiling mounted outlet and all was right with the world. And now I have clue sheets.

 

just an off day?

Today, as my house manager said, was a great day until you got out of bed.

It rained when it shouldn’t have (my lawn needs to be mowed!)

I’m learning about blueberries.

There was a major accident that played havoc with my cast getting to the theater.

But, my soup was good.

The battery on my radio was dead, which led to some interesting relays for time calls. Thank goodness for the baby monitor.

So, good times. Ish.

 

I dream of Eno…

We’re a few months away at this point, but Eno is already flitting into my brain. This time it was combined with a strange dream essentially reminding me how dissatisfied I am with the current state of finances vs. working doing what I want to be doing.

I’m not really sure how it got started, but I was at Eno, but it was unusually open. I remember sitting on the steps of the hospitality station, but it felt more like Squire’s Castle in Cleveland. I was sitting there, looking out at the side of the Meadow Stage and all I could think about was how I’d so much rather be doing this full time than go back to doing my normal job with the agro-chemical folks.

I don’t even know who I was talking to at the time, but I remember talking about the moves we’re working on with my job, making it more of a project coordinator position than a true administrative position and how I was looking forward to that. Then, the music coordinator for the Eno looks at me and says “but that’s not what you really want.”

I remember looking at him in shock. And suddenly there’s all the people I’m used to seeing at Eno - the green-nature lovers in their comfiest, lightest weight clothing, the tie-dyed hipsters and the teenagers in bikinis and shorts. I look back at my stage and there’s a great band on with all kinds of complicated pieces on stage and I helped get them there and started and they’re looking to me to get them off on time so the next group can start. And I have a standing position here where people like me and look forward to seeing me and I them.

My mind starts flashing through to my current cast and how much I’ve enjoyed working with them and how vocal one has been about how impressed she is with me. And then I think of the company that calls me back year after year for tour and has asked me to work on their next project. Or the director who has been trying to get me to work with him for two years now. The director who has emailed me asking me if I’m available for either of his shows in the next season and tells me I’ve spoiled him for working with his students.

I had a discussion last night with one of my actresses and she asked why I wasn’t working with the local Equity house. I explained part of it was stability, part of it was not wanting to get an Equity card and then NOT be able to work anywhere else and part of it was out and out fear. What if I’m not good enough for professionals? What if I’m terrible and can’t do this full time? Will my life really have been a game of me just doing what I can because I like it and I’ve made it a priority like some aging musician and his garage band that plays an occasional gig at the bar? I love doing this and I’m good at it…is that enough?

I remember seeing this flash in my dream as well, through my mind in seconds and then feel the breeze and the trees as I ran. And the buzzing of my alarm waking me up. Waking me to another day of doing something I’m good at to pay the bills and getting to do what I really love for pennies at night, keeping me away from family and friends and hopefully making a different family over an art.

 

Weekends are for social insanity

Last weekend, amid opening Clean House, we had a full schedule. Kicking off the weekend early on Thursday was Opening Night which – for the first time ever – was attended by the Bald One. He seemed to enjoy the show and meeting the people I’ve been spending way too much time with and we escaped to our home at a decent hour.

Friday, the actual start to the weekend, had me enjoying a fabulous apple martini at Spice Street after the show with some of the cast, the director and our house manager. When I left at a decent hour, I was cajoled into driving fifteen minutes past my house to R&T’s new digs. After about an hour of checking out the nifty place, sitting on their deck enjoying the weather, the week caught up with me. We all migrated in to play Mario Kart and I started to fight sleep in the comfy leather recliner. I eventually give up, the boys run off to play loud music and I’m prodded awake around 4am to go sleep in a real bed.

Saturday – blissful bed as long as I want – followed by an attempt to clean and do useful things before running off to my show. The big deal this time around was that following the show, I was meeting the gang at our favorite little downtown bar for the Class of 1985 Prom. Complete with costumes and more AquaNet than I thought still existed. I can’t think of a song that they played that we weren’t singing word for word. What a deranged bunch we are.

Sunday was quieter, as suits the day of rest. Our matinee audience was refreshingly unexpected. After the show, we closed up shop for the next three days and I went off to a small house party in the opposite direction of my home. The party was a good mix of theater and civilians from all walks celebrating the Rites of Spring and the Fifth of May. After enjoying some excellent imported cheese in quesadilla form, I headed back home for a lazy evening with my husband.

You would think I’d learn to take a weekend of down time? Nah, why live that way…it’s too quiet.

 

Darnit, I want my deck

Today is the absolute perfect day to have a deck.

There are twenty gazillion things I should be doing right now, ranging from scrubbing six weeks of life off the interior of the house to mowing the weeds. What I really want is to have some kind of cushy recliner set out on my non-existent deck and enjoy the cool breezes as I doze in the sun. It’s been that kind of week.

Our show opened on Thursday, which was quite excellent. I felt loved and admired as one of the actresses proceeded to say how fantastic I was. I made bonus points with her daughter as well by recommending that she check out the Maine State sumer theater camp. Just the fact that I knew about such a thing apparently was awesome. And, for the first time ever, the Bald One was in attendance. That made my night.

This show’s tech wasn’t a particularly hard one, but the week before of running and notes and discussion every night and will we/won’t we get the set elements in time was a little taxing. Add to that opening on the first of a month when bills are due and being in that odd limbo at work of being on the cusp of being busy but not being busy yet and you have one whacked out little Rae.

The yippy-skippy news is our federal “economic stimulous” package arrived. I should throw it at a bill and make it go away, but at current, I have a plan where we actually are managing to pay things down in a reasonable fashion. Combine that with the couple that gets us to go downtown and have a beer with them so often moving out to the boonies and we have an instant extra money supply. So the majority of the funding went into a savings account.

The not so yippy-skippy news is that the Bald One’s employer officially filed Chapter 11 yesterday. Blaming the sagging home market and the lack of retail confidence and you’ve got a failing home-goods store. Oddly, they’re not closing any stores in this area - despite our bets that one of them really should be. The Bald One does have his resume all shined up and has already applied for another position with a prescription home delivery company. Normal hours and theoretically better pay? If he’s happy, I’m all for it.

But now, I’ve delayed long enough. The house isn’t getting cleaner with me playing online. The bills are paid though, the one odd charge is gone and the breakfast has long been finished. Time to get cracking on life.

Even though the breeze is blowing and the birds are singing. Damn reality.

 

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Time for bed kids

It’s been fun, but I need a nap.

I found out today that I get a raise. This makes me happy - I wasn’t actually expecting it, since I knew I didn’t qualify for the bonus this year with me not starting there until November. It’s a nice bonus and the fact that I’m rated as “good” is also nice to know. I’ll take my sudden extra money and throw it at something, I’m sure. With my commute, it’ll probably go to my automobile fuel. Sigh.

Rehearsals are going swimmingly, which is quite fabulous. We have a good sketch out there of the first half of the show with the second half being on the schedule for Wednesday. That means we’ll have a bit of an idea of where we’re going after the first week. I’m excited. And I found out today that we’ll have layered scrim - which just makes me squeal with joy. I enjoy some of the most random things. Why do we have a layered scrim, you ask? there’s these windows on the set - which means you have to have one image out them at one point and a different image out them at another. And there’s lighting tricks that will get to happen between the scrim and the window and stuff. I can’t wait to see how that fits together.

I had a “baroo?” moment earlier today though at my day job. I’m chatting with one of my coworkers. She thinks I’m the cat’s meow because I learn quickly, adapt well and can do really random things like fix her printer. She has mentioned, repeatedly, that she thinks I’ll be perfect at her job in a few years and seems to be training me for that eventuality. I mentioned to her that I needed to grab something yummy for lunch because I was having salad for dinner. She asked how my carnivore husband was convinced to fix rabbit food, to which I replied I was going to be at the theater with the most excellent salad bar being in the same building. “You’re still doing that?” she asked.  I resisted the urge to remind her that theater is actually what I want to do and that I look at this as just a way to support my habit and I would walk out in a heartbeat if someone would offer me a decent wage at theater type stuff. Instead, I just looked at her like she had misplaced her brain and went on with my day.

My good news from the weekend? my dear Bostonian is penciled in for a visit next week. He’s not here for me, but for the possibility of being here soon, permanently. While he’s around, I hope to have a drink with him and catch up a bit.

But now, I’m spent. Time for bed.