And...Strike!

A sort of melancholy day, as the first day following the strike of a show always is. I had coffee with my friend Lisa, visiting from San Francisco, and asked her "You know that feeling after a show, where you might be sad, you might be relieved, you might be nostalgic, you might be in limbo, and you're not sure, but you know you're feeling SOMETHING kind of a lot?" Yeah, she knew.

To cheer myself up, I scheduled a massage in advance. A hot stone massage, yet. This is a place I go often, but I've never experienced their rocks before today. I wish I'd left them as a pleasant fantasy. I've had rocks before, but these did not suit me. There was a lot of slippery, oily, not-very-deep rubbing that ultimately left me with aching shoulders and a vague headache. And it's more expensive than the non-rock variety. Harumph.

Sitting outside at the Living Room on a surprisingly sunny and lovely November day (sorry, East Coasters) did help my mood, but then it was scrunched again by my own carelessness: I'd asked a friend to watch Jarrah between camp and ice skating but had forgotten to pack her scan-able skate card. When I arrived, Jarrah was forlornly watching her friend skate because the weirdly rigid skate staff refused to look for her in their computer without the card. I ask you, what is the point of being registered by a computer if you can't, then, look it up? By the time I sorted it out and got her skates on, it was time for her lesson and she burst into tears because she couldn't free skate. And I felt like a major heel. WWM (World's Worst Mom) Award of the day.

It's Thanksgiving week now, and I guess I'll get some sleep and start to recover from FOUR shows in less than 48 hours! To those of you who came out to support me and the cast--thank you from the bottom of my heart. As one of my cast mates put it, "without you, it's not a show."