Rehearsals are going well. I'm busy organising and scheduling and we have a production meeting tomorrow--and at some point I need to find a pair of SS Lugers--I'm feeling a little down. Probably just tired. I remind myself that the hallmark of a good stage manager is the ability to not be noticed, but when I'm putting in fourteen hour days, it would be nice for someone to pat me on the head and say "thanks." Mrr. The heatwave has broken somewhat--God Bless Rain!--but the public transport here is just disgusting. Sweat and exhaust fumes coat everything, gets up your nose. Lovely. I treated myself to some "Imperial Leather" soap today, I'm looking forward to a nice long shower.
Yesterday was very weird, being the 4th of July. I allowed myself some genuinely patriotic feelings, not the half-assed "well, despite all our flaws, I still like america, gee..." Because I do think that we live in a great country, and I love it, and when the country goes a little wrong, that's the moment to love it back on the right track. (or the, ahem, LEFT track, as the case may be)
It's also...it's funny that most of my friends here in London comment on how funny I can be, but if you'll let me veer for a minute...it's also been two years since my Grandma died, and I was thinking about her a lot recently. If I am far away from you, then how far must I be from her? I miss our midnight kitchen talks, when she'd tell me about growing up in the wilds of western Wisconsin, and teach me the only words of Gypsy I know. "Heska holba gamee hobitchum..." to be phonetically correct. If I believe in heaven...then I must believe she's there...but that doesn't stop me from missing her here.
And I also discovered you can listen to the song "Toast of the Century" 24 times on the commute from Earl's Court to Brockley. Download it here: http://www.dudedudechick.com/toast.htm