We pulled off Tom Jones last night without so much as a flaw. I mean, Cassie couldn't find her fan, but it was okay. I stumbled over two of my lines, but I always stumble over those two because they're so damn hard to say fast (the worst being: "But first I pray you, is there a surgeon in the house? This gentleman has been injured defending me." I always stumbled over the last part. Go fig.)

So that was good. Audience loved it; they hardly ever stopped laughing. Like last year, when we did Blood, Lust and Rhetoric, the last three minutes the audience seriously did not stop laughing. Ever. It was really funny.

But everyone knew their lines perfectly for this play, and knew what they were doing, and knew where they were going. In fact, the only people who were stressing were the stage manager and the two assisant stage managers. Then again, that's part of the job, so it's all good.

There's only been one stage manager I've met who didn't stress and freak. That was David Edgington. He laughing when I told him so, and said he'd done enough theatre to know that stressing and freaking got you no where, and if the people weren't listening it was their own damn fault.

Heheheheh. Good 'ole David.

Anyway, nothing much else happened lately that's worth mentioning. Really. Nothing.

Can't think of a damn thing.

Oh, hafta babysit on Saturday. That'll be interesting. Havn't babysat for these people in a long time, probably a couple years.

I think I'm their last choice. I was never very good with children.

Except Brennain and Mystica's children. Speaking of which, I think I'll go visit them on Friday. Or depending on what time the parents come home, I'll visit them on Saturday.

Hmmm.

I think I'm about done here, so adieu, mes amies, 'til we speak again.

.

Rosie.

Before&After