Friday afternoon

My relationship to this past week has been much like that of a bug hit by the prow of a locomotive. Along for the ride with no way to get off other than falling and being crushed.

Or maybe a butterfly caught in seventy mile an hour straight line winds.

The winds are full of paper. Directives, projects, curriculum reports, recommendation letters, job applications, senior theses, master’s theses, thesis proposals, research reports–oh, and the normal load of class lessons and daily writing and usual class essays. One person’s submission is 222 pages. Another is 51. Another is 40-something. Nine of them in the 12-15 page range. Dozens shorter than that. All to be read carefully, closely, critically.

One eye stays on the page, the other wanders around the room, the two meet briefly, and then exchange places, the reading eye now wandering, the wandering one reading. Occasionally they look at each other and then recoil. I take them out at night and soak them in Epsom salts. The water foams.

The second half of spring break was time spent at my sister’s house with her family and my brother’s son and his pregnant wife. We did lots of admiring of her belly, which she is delighted with. So are the rest of us.

The result of this is that I did no work whatever over the break, meaning I came back so far behind that I’ve spent this week scrambling. Long, long days trying to catch up on what I had planned to do over the break, back before I knew that the family wasn’t going to allow that. I hope over this weekend to get back to an equilibrium point as far as the job goes.

Every school year at about this time starts to heat up. Students realize they have only a few weeks to get the term’s or year’s work done, finish senior projects, defend theses, etc. Advising for summer and fall registration begins now, too, so my 64 official and I don’t know how many unofficial advisees will all be dropping in, making sustained office work impossible. And then, all of a sudden, I will be a highly desired commodity. As that hits, I would rather have my courses up to date.

I’m not sure I should have allowed spring break to be spent playing.

Thanks for the kind words from several people regarding teeth, show, etc.

The show went well and so did the clean-up and set striking, though I finished that with a wound on my hand. Not used to using power tools, I guess. Anyway the set was gone and the stage clean by Sunday morning.

Mom and I left Monday morning for Duluth, where we spent two days at a water park/hotel with my sister and her husband and two kids. It’s wonderful fun to watch the kids, and I confess to my own addictive behavior regarding water slides, which I think are grand constructions. I use them until I’m too tired to get up the stairs for another run. Then I rest and then I start again.

Oh, the kids seem to enjoy them too. Come to think of it, I was the only graybeard on the slides.

Coming back to Bemidji was an exercise in silence. Waterparks are so loud that while I’m having fun I’m also going crazy. Mom and I soaked up quiet for the three hours we were on the road, and then read quietly at home all night and most of yesterday. Today I’m spending my only day at the office during this break. Tonight I have a meeting at the Elks, where we will elect the officers coming in and I will celebrate being the head honcho on his way toward going out. That happens officially on April 5, when I will lead the installation of new officers, after which I become a has-been.

Tomorrow I take off with Mom for downstate MN, where my sister and family will be hosting my nephew and his new wife, just in from West Palm Beach for a visit. Back on Sunday.

No blogging for a few days, again.

Saturday morning while showering I discovered a lump on my jaw.

Monday I went to the dentist. He found an enormous abcess. Started penicillin. Tuesday I went back. A root canal wasn’t possible, as the tooth was cracked all the way below the bone line. Extraction was the only option.

It came out. Pus squirted. He said “You don’t know how sick you are. Go home and sit quietly.” I did. I was reeling. I had a rehearsal Tuesday night. I thought I’d be better in time to make it. I wasn’t awake when rehearsal went on. I missed it completely, and didn’t even call to let them know. Highly unprofessional.

I dragged through Wednesday, though without reeling. I trudged through the day, but I made it all the way through. I was very much aware that I wasn’t right. All this over a tooth.

Today is better. I am vaguely tippy, as though something isn’t quite right, but I’m thinking straight again. I have a performance tonight and intend to be there, as a responsible person should.

I can’t believe I actually didn’t make that rehearsal. I am more reliable than that.

Kiss Me, Kate

Opening night came and went, Saturday night came and went, a Sunday matinee came and went, and I didn’t die. I didn’t even pass out.

And the audiences seemed pleased. My mother thought the play was dumb (which it is), but she was happy to see her little boy (her little gray-bearded boy) on stage. My sister thought it was “a hoot.” The four friends who attended Saturday night and then came to my house afterwards allowed as how I was pretty funny and wondered where that had come from. I didn’t tell them that I’m funny all the time on the inside–they just don’t see it in daily life.

That’s one of the things this play has shown me. I have an acute sense of the ridiculous, which I enjoy but rarely demonstrate. My role allows or even demands that I do that. In it I do ridiculous things–with relish. Dignity disappears, vulnerability appears.

It was fun to have so many people that I know slightly say things to the effect of “I didn’t know you could sing” or “I didn’t know you did this” or “I didn’t know you had it in you.” It was also fun to hear reactions to me as though I were the character I played. One woman said “You despicable man” and I’m not sure she was joking. The line between illusion and reality gets thin sometimes. Even when you’re playing a general with five stars on his cap and only two on his shoulders.

Many thanks to those who sent encouragement. Loralee, you can relax now. Mark survived the first week. I do appreciate the support.

This coming week we do the show with a different leading lady. It’ll be interesting to see how that affects it. That reminds me of another thing I’ve learned. I enjoy the interdependence of live stage. Each performance is different, and the people in it have to adapt. This means mutual trust is essential. Each night one person or another I was working with blew a line or cue and I had to cover for it. Two of the three nights I missed some small part of a line that I had to cover for myself. In one of my scenes yesterday the leading lady noticed that the leading man had drawn a blank and had improvised before the audience could know it, and did so such the he could get back on track. Cool to see.

Live theater means being alert. Living intensely in the moment. For me, that is a rush of a whole new kind.

I got done with class at 3:15 yesterday, walked home, and was finished moving snow by 6:30. Today after class I will go home and do it again.

Tonight is opening night.

Our dress rehearsal last night went quite smoothly, with the exception that some voices were clearly getting tired. The director decided to cancel tonight’s rehearsal, so the next run through is the opening. I’m glad to have one night where I can actually have time to sleep. Nine hours of sleep over three nights with long, busy days, and those days following a very busy weekend. I’ve reached the point where I can pull myself together to do a class but outside class I’m not very ambitious. Don’t like to see my eyes reflected in the mirror.
Can’t think easily. Can’t move easily.

But I have to. After my final afternoon class I need to go home and start moving snow. I do that for six households–no, it’s five now. One old guy hired someone to do his, and that someone can get there during the day, when I am at work. Still, it takes a long time when there is only a light snow, and there is a lot of snow coming down right now.

After snow comes making something to eat and then tip into bed. Eight hours would be really, really good.