So we have a visiting instructor for the next three weeks while our stage director, Marc, is out of town directing Cendrillon. His name is Adam, and he teaches people how to play safely onstage with swords and such. As some of you may know, I've already done training in rapier & dagger and unarmed stage combat, so any excuse to practice my skills sounds like fun to me. As a soprano, there isn't much call for sword fighting, but I'm eagerly awaiting the day when someone says to me, "Emily, we've decided to cast you in this show, and you have to learn this fight sequence." Just you wait. So Adam was putting us through some basics yesterday and I was trying my best to be diplomatic with my partner when she wouldn't fully extend her arm. Timid fighters make me very nervous - you never know when they're going to really extend and possibly hit you. Kind of like timid drivers, the ones who creep out into the middle of traffic and then look scared. This is usually why I end up fighting with boys. This comes as surprise to no one. But I've gotta tell you, my quads are absolutely killing me from doing 'advance-retreat' over and over and over again and I just want to get back in there with a sword and do it all again. I hate going to the gym. I hate running. I hate walking unless it's for the purpose of getting somewhere. But you hand me a sword and tell me to work on my footwork and I am SO THERE.
In other news, hubby and I are moving to Seattle so I can get paid to be an opera singer and so we can move away from the lunatic fringe of Boston. As I said to a friend of mine today, the liberals up here make me look like a cookie-cutter conservative, and I consider myself to be pretty darned liberal. And if I'm not putting words into his mouth, I think this friend of mine considers me to be pretty darned liberal as well. But when the bomb squad can't tell the difference between Cartoon Network marketing and a bomb? An ounce of prevention, pound of cure, blah blah blah. If these things had been there for weeks, wouldn't they have blown up already?
Speaking of bombs, our neighbor just pulled his souped-up sorry excuse for a Subaru into the driveway and made the windows rattle. I'm sooo looking forward to living away from him and our lame landlord.
Happy Friday!
3 comments:
You're moving to Seattle? You know your parents are like, "Don't forget our room!"
You were born there weren't you? You might feel as out-liberaled up there as you do in Boston (conquered by the mooninites!). Don't forget out fried shrimp po-boys when you're waist deep in snow :)
You do know that Seattle's not in the South, right?
I didn't know y'all were moving there, I thought you were just singing there. Neato.
Snooches!
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