I'm working on a show right now. A big show. For the big thing in town. Those of you who have figured out where I live, you know what this big thing is. And the big show that's related to it. After the show tonight, they were doing photos of all the performers. The hoop dancer wanted a photo with all the female technicians. Since he's a talented dreamboat (and nice, to boot) we all complied. I ran into the headliner, whom I won't name, but he's a big country music star. We chatted a bit, and he was very nice. I can honestly tell you he's nice, and a little bit shy in person. He made a point of thanking the crew, which not many performers do. He makes his entrance into the show by flying over the set on a plexiglass platform. It's quite impressive. I love to listen to the crowd as the spotlights hit him, and everybody screeeeeeeeeeeams. "You know," he said with a bit of a nervous laugh, as we hid in the shadows behind the set, "when they asked me if I minded flying, it took me a little bit to realize they didn't mean in an airplane." Nice guy. It's funny how celebrity-fear diminishes the more you work in the biz. ~ The staff chiropractor laid me on his table and started poking around the rock hard bits that used to be my neck muscles. "Alright," he said, "now take a deep breath." I did as he asked, and he leaned into my muscles. The air escaped in a pained groan. "Are you okay?" he asked, letting up a bit. "I'm fine," I grunt. It hurts, but in the good way. In the fixing way, not the damaging way. "Okay, just let me know if it hurts too much," he says, adjusting my arm so my shoulder blade sticks out of my back like a sail. "Don't worry about hurting me," I say. "I've got a pretty high pain threshold." "Well," he says with a sigh, "that's your problem. You need to be more of a...of a...." "Delicate flower?" I grunt. He's leaning into the pebbly muscles under my shoulder blade and it huuuuuuuuurts. "Yes. A delicate flower." He's scolding me now, but I don't mind so much, as long as he doesn't stop doing that thing with his fingers. "You gotta stop being so tough." "I gotta be tough," I say, realizing the truth of my words even as I speak them. "I gotta be tougher than the boys, at least, or else I won't get hired." I don't think he believed me, but it's true. Faster and smarter and stronger, or else. Or else. ~ Five more shows to do. Half way done. Thank the gods. . Rosie.
Before&After
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