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February 3, 2020:

HOPE IS THE THING WITH FEATHERS

Bruce Kimmel Photograph bk's notes

Well, dear readers, I’m not at all certain what is going on with the likes of me, but I’m feeling weird and like I’m on the cusp of getting sick.  I’ve been taking all my preventatives regularly so maybe something else is at play because this yucky thing started at the theater this morning, when our lighting guy was pumping in smoke from the smoke machine.  Now, that’s all supposed to be completely harmless, and yet I began coughing and having difficulty taking deep breaths without coughing.  That continued throughout both run-throughs, lunch, and it continues even now.  When I finally home at five-thirty, I thought maybe it would abate but abate it most assuredly has not.  I took some Airborne and Sambucol throughout the evening, but nothing seems to be helping.  I’ll take some NyQuil before bed, and hopefully that will get me through the night, because I do need to sleep.  So, send some excellent vibes and xylophones for no sickness or short sickness if sickness there’s to be – I have a very busy week ahead, you know.

We had our first run-though at ten – well, we got a late start and it was probably eleven-fifteen by the time we began.  We had sound and music for the first time so most of my notes were about that.  The music began too loud then dropped too soft for the monologues that it accompanies, so all that has to get adjusted.  There was music where none should have been, there was silence where there should have been music, and a couple of times the wrong theme was used.  But I could tell it will work when all the notes are addressed.  We took an hour break and Doug and I went to the nearby Chinese jernt and had some Wor Won Ton soup, which I thought would help soothe the cough and stuff but didn’t.  Then we had our second run-through and finished that at around four-thirty, I gave notes, switched up a few lighting things, and got everyone on their merry way at 4:45.  I was hoping for earlier, but such is the way of things.  The two runs were fine, and I just think we’re ready to start playing in front of an audience, although it’s a bit scary to think I won’t hear the revised audio cues until Tuesday’s invited dress.  I’m hoping I can get there early to hear in case something isn’t working.

I stopped at Gelson’s and got some lobster salad and regular salad with Catalina dressing, came home, ate that, and just coughed a lot and felt dreary.  For a treat I had an Entenmann’s chocolate donut and Swiss Vanilla Almond ice cream. Otherwise, I listened to music and just kept hoping I’d start feeling better.  I’m still hoping because hope is the thing with feathers.  What am I, Emily Dickenson all of a sudden?

Today, I’ll sleep in for sure, then I have a lot of stuff to do and hopefully I’ll feel well enough to do it.  I have to bank, I might have some chicken soup, I’ll get some Coldeez, and I have to pick up some tapes.  Otherwise, I’ll be home, finishing proofing and then entering fixes and relaxing and listening to music and perhaps even watching something.

Tomorrow, I’ll sleep in and just stay home and rest until around five, when I’ll mosey on over to the theater, hopefully listen to the revised sound cues, and then clean up anything that needs cleaning up, lighting-wise.  Then we play our invited final dress rehearsal.  Wednesday and Thursday are busy days, and we play our two previews in the evenings.  And Friday we open and play our first weekend of performances, and then I get busy with the March Kritzerland and meetings and meals and entering fixes from the proofers and hopefully getting Grant to begin designing the book.

Well, dear readers, I must take the day, I must do the things I do, I must, for example, sleep in for sure, bank, have chicken soup, get Coldeez, pick up some tapes, proof, and relax.  Today’s topic of discussion: What are your Oscar predictions? Let’s have loads of lovely postings, shall we, whilst I hit the road to dreamland, hoping I feel better by morning and that I sleep well through the night, remembering, after all, that hope is the thing with feathers.

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