Turning techie

I like a challenge.  Really I do.  So, when I was asked to stage manage our local operatic society's production of Oklahoma! of course I said "yes".

It's a great show.  It has a wonderful cast -  one is a dear friend without whom my life would feel darker and several who I'd invite to dinner.  My husband is conducting it, my son is performing (as a cowboy, as a break from exam fever) and the director is the sweetest lady you will ever meet.

Yesterday at 6.30pm I wished all 32+ of them at the bottom of the sea as my gallant band of grizzled stage crew finally managed to ease away the last bit of set and the last prop.  Just in time for them to arrive and start USING the set.  How dare they?  Excuse me, this set is BEAUTIFUL.  Every prop has a HOME.  Everything has a place and there are good access points with no issues obstructing fire exits.  Now just all go away and let the crew and I enjoy ourselves moving it around in peace.

I've turned into a Techie. Worse, I've turned into a techie with the temper of a disgruntled troll and a shout that breaks lightbulbs.

Techies are a unique theatre breed.  If you want lighting, sound, set, stuff flying in, access to the broom cupboard, lightbulbs changing or anything of a practical nature done, you need a techie.  Generally they have a low opinion of actors because these only serve to clutter up their stage.  They're often not that keen on directors either - as who would be if you'd been up til midnight hanging a cloth only for them to swan in the next morning and insist that it needs to be moved.  I speak as a director who has done just that.  I was one last week.  How times change.

Last night was the Tech run. Our run.  The techie version of heaven when if any one of us raises a finger, the show stops while we mutter in corners and make infintesimal changes to the gaffer tape markings.  This is in direct contrast to our normal role which is to make sure the show stops for nothing bar fire or death.

Waving wheat in Oklahoma.  It sure smells sweet.

All this is a long-winded way of saying I spent yesterday squeezing the glorious open plains of Oklahoma into what is basically a big shoebox with no wing-space.  We did it.  Dress rehearsal tonight and then the show is mine all mine.  Never mind that the director has been slaving over this thing since February.  The stage manager is god when a show goes up.  Can't wait.

Just don't touch my wagon.

As you were

Trapped in the strange limbo of the A-Z challenge, I've nonetheless been doing other stuff this past month.  Even if it doesn't feel like it.

First, a warm welcome to the new followers and friends.  This is where reality hits and you all discover just how tedious and ranty I can be.  To give you fair warning, this blog's title is not merely alliterative.  It is descriptive.  Who'd have thought?

Drama - is my bread and butter, so you get a lot of stuff about rehearsals, casts, costuming, directing, performance and so on.

Dice - gaming is another passion and I currently run four online games using D&D 4e rules.  It also covers my attempts to build an RPG setting.  Mikelmerck.  So dearly loved, so often the bridesmaid.

Damsons - is a kind of catch all phrase for my ongoing attempts to organise my home and garden.  We have a damson tree which fruits heavily and is a kind of emblem for the chaos that ensues when I try to keep things under control.

The next few days are going to be interesting.  At the end of this week, the Malfi cast have their final rehearsals and then perform on Tuesday and Wednesday next week.  Based on recent efforts, the audience will have a treat in part one and a horrible let down in part two, so that needs to change fast.  I am no believer in things being all right on the night.  I prefer solid preparation, but then I'm stodgy like that.  Unsurprisingly perhaps, some of the cast appear to think differently. 

Costuming for Malfi  is on target with the exception of boots.  I need many, many pairs still.  Failing that, we may just have to go with black shoes, but it will be wrong and will grate horribly.

Dream option

Likely reality

First though, I need it to stop raining long enough to mow the blasted lawn.  Unfortunately, I have a special relationship with the weather gods.  If I even think about getting the mower out and finding the extension cable, clouds rush to my aid and prevent my doing anything so energetic.  While this is a great excuse, I'd like to get the grass cut before it becomes impossible to find my way into the house.

Chocolate - can there be too much?

With term speeding to an end, most of the things I need to do are becoming manageable. 

Costume construction - under way and continuing.
Play written.
Props list and other stuff for Oklahoma! - underway and continuing.
Rehearsals planned.
Games all running along nicely.

Obviously I need another project and luckily there is one to hand.

In a moment of lunacy back in February, husband, son and I decided to throw an Easter party for no better reason than we hadn't had a party for years.  To the socially ept, this may seem like an easy thing to do.  Allow me to explain that this is not so around our place.

Although I am quite good at making and keeping friends, along with the rest of my immediate family I am petrified of large gatherings.  Parties in particular.  As a teen, I never went to them.  Partly because I wasn't invited to any (extreme introvert and reluctant to leave the safe confines of my bedroom), partly because even if I had been invited, I'd have worked myself into such a state of trauma that I wouldn't have gone.

The family record is not good in this respect.  It is, therefore, a little strange that we decided on a whim to hold a massive Easter egg hunt for what now looks like about 35-40 people on Easter Sunday.  The British weather being what it is, the current warm and Spring-like spell is unlikely to last.  I mention this only because we're planning to hold said egg hunt in the garden.  In the event of rain, it will be inside.

Several challenges await. 

The house must be tidied.  Not simple.  We live in a very large house indeed and it is packed to the gunnels with what can only be described as clutter.  For guests to get through the door without injury, something must be done.  Son has agreed to help.  Amazingly.

Mass catering must ensue.  This is fun and easy.  No problems there.  Except that in my nightmares, all guests decide they have better things to do and don't come.  Always an embarrassing possibility with parties.

Eggs must be purchased.  Also fun and easy, but brings me back to the original title of this post.  Can there be too much chocolate?  Clearly I can live on the stuff and I know I'm not alone in this, but I've got a slight fear that unless we make some kind of uber-spreadsheet, we may well be finding unfound Easter eggs well into next year. 

So far I've got lots on order.  No recent shopping trip has been complete without adding a couple of packets of chocolate eggs of varying types to the basket.

Guilt-free shopping for chocolate.  Lovely.