That was way yonder more excitement than I reckoned on. Got to the park yesterday right on time at 5:30--black flag up due to a tiny bit of rain, which meant the fields were closed, but worse--no Mom, no vanload of children. They finally came in about 5:45, because for some reason a certain Jungle Book cast member had neglected to place the satchel with her costume in the van, which necessitated a trip by Mom and vanload of children back to our humble abode from school, then back to the park. With them also came word that Middle Girl was going to be practicing at the elementary school gym. Little Boy was going to be practicing somewhere else, but at the time, we didn't know where. And of course, Tiny Girl had to pee. Heavy sigh.

I bundled up Bec and Wolfgirl and left Reba with the other two--dropped Ashley at the theater since she was already running behind, went back up the hill and dropped Soccergirl at the gym with the instruction that Mommy would be back for her later, then BACK down the hill back to the theater for the start of the first act's final rehearsal. (I found out later that Boy's soccer team practiced in the gravel parking lot across the street from the park. For about 30 minutes. Prompting me to silently ask myself after this was all over--"WHY BOTHER!!")

Anyway, the rehearsal would have been pretty good, if it had been the first dress rehearsal, and had taken place two weeks ago--as it was, it was frightening that tonight is the opening. Everyone still blundering through their lines, fidgeting with their clothes, still trying to figure out what to do with those weird flappy long dangly things that hang off either side of their shoulders--and then, right in the middle of a scene, the boy playing Akela stopped and told the director that it was time to go to the band concert. Which was nice of him to remember, except he was off by about twenty minutes and managed to bring the whole shebang to a screeching halt. They finished up that scene, after a couple of fits and starts, then Ashley came offstage and began changing into her nice clothes.

I walked backstage and was surprised at how full of trip hazards it was and how much head bonking stuff was around--I don't see how anyone manages to get on stage! Anyway, after nearly killing myself on two different sets of carefully concealed, black painted steps, I stepped back into the meeting room part of the Chamber of Commerce building and waited for her to come out, which didn't take long at all, thank goodness.

She went ahead and slapped her clarinet together and took off out the door and very nearly took a header on the wet grass, which prompted all sorts of Dadly advice about the dire consequences of falling and hurting...THAT CLARINET! Derned thing cost as much as a GM remanufactured automatic transaxle! Anyway, she did her best to ignore me and did the quick, stiff-arm-stomp-walk she likes to do and stomp-walked next door and went and joined up with the rest of the band.

Excellent concert, by the way. No program this time, so I can't even begin to tell you what they played, but you could tell they had been drilled hard. No obvious clinkers, everybody playing just right. The younger group of sixth graders had really made noticeable progress since their Christmas concert--then they had played a simple rhythm sort of thing that sounded like a dirge played by an oompah band, but last night they had picked up the tempo quite a bit as well as the complexity. Ashley's group of seventh graders was impressive as always. Their band teacher is a real sweetheart, although all the kids talk about how much they hate her (along with some really cruel stuff about her (admittedly Rubenesque) butt) and how much she hates them. However, as Doc Weevil will tell you, this age group is the hardest to teach, and require a very firm hand, which she definitely gives them. But, the results show. They may not act like they like her, but these kids have learned how to play, and play well. (And they really DO like her, even if they bitch and moan. It's just cool to complain. Sorta like the U.N.) Anyway, I know I like her (and not just because she's cute) and hope she continues to do her thing--we need more teachers like her. Although I would ask her to lose the chunky light blonde highlights.

Concert over around 7:20, hugs to grandparents, then dash back to the theater (with yet another admonition to QUIT RUNNING) to change clothes again. I walked back through and sat down in the last row and the director had them start it all over from the top again. (There were probably six or so kids who were also in the concert, so when they left there were too many gaps in the cast to proceed.)

The entire run-through was still rough, and afterwards, the poor director was just beside herself with actorly agony as she went through her notes. Big problems continued to be fiddling with costumes, breaking out of character, forgetting lines, laughing, off stage noise, yanking on the curtains when they come on or leave. ::sigh::

Back home at 9, find Boy asleep, Tiny Girl playing in bed, Middle Girl bathing, Wife folding clothes with that dead-eyed vigor that means only one thing--something is all my fault. Yikes.

Rest of story that I missed by being somewhere else is that after Boy's pointless gravel practice they went to get Rebecca, who wasn't near finished with her practice, which required they stay at the gym, where the Liquid Terror and the Boy managed to run around like feral cats and get in everybody's way, which caused much consternation for their mom, who has had a sinus infection AND was missing her other daughter's concert due to having to wrassle these boisterous children, and who later went home and found that Catherine had brought home YET ANOTHER note from her (substitute) teacher that she had TALKED DURING LUNCHTIME QUIET TIME, and who was already depressed about the prospect of having to get another vehicle, which will not be a new Honda Pilot, and who decided to get the clothes out of the dryer and fold them, only to find out the lummox she married had forgotten to take the clothes out of the washing machine the night before and put them in the dryer, which COULD POSSIBLY have caused them to sour (although, in fact, they were simply wet--but the mere potential for disaster was much more compelling than the actual outcome. Again, like the U.N.), THUS creating a large rainy cloud of dismay.

BUT, if there is one person in this world who can take away large rainy clouds of dismay, it is YOURS TRU... well, there probably are a couple more out there, but Tom Selleck was busy and I was available. After much attention and effort, the clouds lifted a bit and the rain stopped and the clothes got all folded, and we went to sleep.

This morning, everyone off to school with Mom, and I on my way to work in old faithful Franklin.

Who decided to take today to fart out a heater hose and lose all of his coolant.

OVERTURE, CURTAIN, LIGHTS!
This is it, the night of nights.
No more rehearsing and nursing our part,
We know every part by heart.

Overture, curtain, lights!
This is it, we'll hit the heights.
And oh, what heights we'll hit--
On with the show, this is it!
posted by Terry at 9:39:00 AM