I’m finally acclimating to the play. It took a solid four weeks but I’m there. Which is a HUGE relief. I thought I’d never get there. I thought I’d never have my lines down, never get the hang of hair and make-up and corset, never actually be able to pull it (the play, not the corset) off. In fact, up until the last minute, I harbored a secret fear that I’d be replaced. Nobody did a thing to make me feel that way—it was just my wicked imagination raking me over the coals.

I get horribly nervous when I have to do something up front in church and I was super stressed that I’d feel sick with nerves when I was on stage. But it isn’t like that, not at all. I get a little tense before walking out on stage (a snug corset does wonders for trapping the butterflies), but it’s peanuts compared to real Dread Nervousness. And it’s oodles of fun once I’m out there. I never knew acting could be such fun. I haven’t played this hard in a long time (no pun intended, sorry).

One thing I always wondered: how do actors transition between being themselves and being someone else on stage? It’s funny, but in between our scenes, we’re all back in the green room talking about everyday stuff. Some people are on facebook, others are doing homework, some are reading. And then when our scenes come up—bam—we run out on stage to have a nightmare or shoot somebody. It’s weird, in an interesting sort of way.

Sir Ian McKellen sums up the acting dichotomy quite tidily (thanks, Ingrid).  

I promised you blood and burn pix.

Here’s the blood.

It’s a mixture of corn syrup, laundry detergent, food coloring, and something else (chocolate syrup?) that I can’t remember. When I come out for my last scene, I never know how much blood I’m going to find. Sometimes there’s almost nothing, and other times there are great pools of it on the floor. And then when I have to say, “The pain’s made him weak, but it’s a clean wound,” and I pick up his head and there’s blood everywhere, I have to suppress the urge to laugh.

And the burns…

Since her arms are completely covered during the show, they put on the burns beforehand.

They paint her arms with liquid latex (or something), dry it, and then pull at it to make blisters.

They stipple on blood.

Then they paint the insides of the blisters.

Gruesome, yes? (And that’s just the beginning. There are a lot more blisters/blood by the time they’re all done.)

During the play, I have to apply salve to the burns—the first time, I could hardly stand to touch them. (It didn’t help that she was wincing so convincingly.)

Regarding clothing: I feel like I should have some great revelations concerning fashion to share with you now that I’ve gotten to experience 19th century dress firsthand. But I don’t.

I’ve gotten kind of used to sporting a true waist and the sloping-shoulder look, managing a hoopskirt, wearing sleeves as a separate garment, and grappling with corset strings, aprons, bonnets, and boat-sized bloomers. That women actually wore all those layers—and worked in them—still blows me away.

One of the women in the cast had a panic/claustrophobic attack when getting dressed and had to switch to a softer, less restrictive corset. I got her old one. Only once did I come close to panicking, and that was because I was super hot. It was a mental battle to not think about how pinched my skin was and how many layers—five—were piled on top of the corset, preventing me from relieving the pressure.

Oh yeah, and at a couple rehearsals (before the air conditioning was working properly), my vision got all blurry around the edges. I thought I was getting a migraine. Only later did I realize that it was probably because I was overheated. 

Now I understand why women back in the day were given to fainting spells. Duh.

A couple things I learned:

1. To facilitate going to the bathroom, bloomers were crotchless.
2. Women were very excited when hoop skirts were invented since they allowed for more air circulation under all those clothes.
3. Sleeves and collars were separate—that way they could wear out and be replaced without having to make a whole new dress.

One of my friends was watching me get dressed the other night. “Wow,” she said. “I didn’t realize you had all that stuff on under your dress!”

When I mentioned to another friend that I think we should do a costume strip after the show so that people can fully appreciate the lengths to which the (skilled and gifted) costume designer went, he said, “Yeah, they can just put a pole up there on the stage…”

(Those Mennonites!)

My husband came to see the play on Friday. I wanted him to see it by himself first so that he could pay better attention to the kids when he brings them this weekend. I was worried it might be a little scary for them.

“Scary?” he said, surprised, when I asked him afterwards. “No, it wasn’t scary. It was … emotional.”

And then, a little sheepishly, “I teared up a couple times.”

Sunday night we took off for upstate New York to visit my husband’s family. His brother’s family was visiting from Hong Kong this week. Later this summer we’ll go up again when his sister’s family comes in from the West Coast. When family travels to the East Coast, we go. Period.

It rained the whole time we were there. I didn’t notice I was missing the sun (we were too busy talking, eating, and visiting the Corning Museum of Glass), but Tuesday evening when the sun finally made an appearance, I had to get out in it.

I threw on my sneakers, and some of the kids and I struck out through the field behind Grandpa and Grandma’s house. The kids climbed all over a tractor that was parked in the field, and then they set about picking wild flowers.

Half the sky was dark with clouds, and the other half was bright blue with fluffy white clouds.

The sunlight was beautiful.

The kids meandered from clump to clump, and I took pictures till my vision blurred.

This morning I was awakened by the sun beaming in through the window. I took another walk (this time, a long one, all by myself this time) before breakfast—strong coffee, fried ham, and a delicious baked French toast with maple syrup. It seemed a shame to spend this gloriously sunny day stuck in a car, but oh well. We’re home now.

This same time, years previous: small pasta with spinach and bacon, three reds fruit crumble, sour cream ice cream, radishes for breakfast, hypothesizing (my theories on learning to read), the best chocolate ice cream ever, strawberry daiquiri base 

It’s May 31. Tomorrow night, June 1, the play opens.

What a whirlwind month it’s been!

I have learned so incredibly much that I still have trouble finding the words to describe it all. One thing I do know: the green room (ours, at least) is actually green. I was clearly not paying attention when I told you it wasn’t green.

Tonight is an “invited dress.” (Ooo, look at me do the theater lingo!) This means that the show’s sponsors get bunches of tickets to hand out to their friends and family and then they all get together in one of the studio rooms for a private reception before watching the show. The director said it could be a full house. I’m ready to start performing for someone other than the directors, managers, and crew.  (Is it bad luck to admit that I think we’re ready? I hope I didn’t just jinx the play.)

Last night we added make-up to our get-ready routine. (We had already added hair—which keeps getting tweaked—and clothing.) I get to have eyebrows! (I’m much less excited about flaunting my super-high forehead to the masses.)

I tried to sleep in this morning (my parents have the younger two children, which has been A Saving Grace, so it was actually feasible), but the neighbor decided to bang in some fence posts at 7:15. I don’t think he was aware that he was pounding them straight through my head.

After lunch, I tried again to get some sleep. I had just drifted off when the neighbor decided a few more fence posts were in order, youhavegottobekiddingme. I abandoned the sleep idea and turned to chocolate, caffeine, and Ibuprofen, instead.

Though it just occurred to me, I’m in bed for much of the second act. Maybe I’ll doze off between nightmares. (Yeah, right.)

PS. Blood and burn pix coming soon!

PPS. For showtimes and ticket information, click the picture on the sidebar.

This same time, years previous: down to the river to chill, barbecued pork ribs, fresh strawberry cream pie