And That's A Wrap

My heart feels weird. Jarrah starts kindergarten in the morning. I just told her a story and she's not falling asleep. Maybe my heart is yearning for the days when we didn't have to wake up at 6:00 a.m. for the next...forever.

Had a nice Labor Day. David's parents are visiting, and we were invited to Mary and Paul's for brunch. She made baked French toast--man, is that good. After two helpings, I was ready to be carbon froze, so I begged the group for a ramble through the outlet malls in Carlsbad. "Clearly not Labor Day for the people working in the shops," noted my mother-in-law. It was a total zoo there. I got way over-stimulated, and after the weekend I've had, I didn't have far to go. But it was still fun, and I got Jarrah a few things and myself a gray cardigan sweater. I have a thing about gray, though I like to spell it "grey" as the English do.

Last night was our last performance of Twelfth Night. (Not really, since we are also doing something called "Ten Plays in Ten Hours" for the San Diego Shakespeare Society on Sept. 25 at Horton Plaza. Stay tuned.) And it was our best, I believe. Unlike the previous night, when they never turned off the freakin' fountains and we attempted to scream over them to no avail (plus everyone was forgetting their lines) we were totally on, crisp and clean with no caffeine. I had a blast, only wishing the whole business was longer.

There was a little cast party after, which I may or may not have been instrumental in procuring (what? a show with no cast party?) and it was a beautiful evening to eat pizza and enjoy a view of San Diego Harbor from high on the hill. It was smallish as these things go, and wound up unusually early, so a few of us prevailed upon Lisa--recently employed as a Victorian-era tour guide of San Diego spirits--to show us the spooky sights.

It was a dark and stormy night, Readers. Well, by San Diego standards: a brisk wind whipped bits of leaves around the sidewalks of Old Town, and a chill in the air caused me to wrap my cardigan a bit more tightly. The tour began with a radiant recitation of Poe (Lisa is an actress, after all!) and I was instantly enchanted. How is it that I've been in San Diego since '93 and never knew the ghosty parts of Old Town? From the cobweb-covered baby shoes under glass to the rock-ringed headstones in the little graveyard to the nuclear-accident-sized hydrangea bushes behind the historic Whaley House (designated "haunted" by the U.S. government!) I was delighted throughout. I actually did feel a little creeped out a couple of times. And though I could tell I was also nodding over on my feet from a combination of theater adrenaline, out-of-town guests, pre-kindergarten anxiety and restless nights, I felt wildly alive and think I'll always remember it. Really, a very special way to celebrate the end of a performance run.

And now the young one is asleep. Tomorrow, David and I are taking her to school together. I don't think I'll cry. That's too obvious.

But my heart is definitely feeling weird. Follow-up soon.