playing catch-up
Several weeks ago, I went to see "A Comedy of Errors" with Elisa at the Old Globe Theatre in Balboa Park. It's an outdoor theatre with a repertory company, and every year they do a mini-Shakespeare Festival. This year features "A Comedy of Errors," "A Winter's Tale," and the Scottish Play.* "A Comedy of Errors" was the first to open, and we attended a "preview" performance. As a result, I was expecting some gaffes. However, if there were any, I didn't notice; the whole production ran very smoothly.
The scene was set in 1935 and both Dromios dressed up Charlie Chaplin-style, though their interactions with the Antipholuses (Antipholi?) were more Abbott and Costello. All four actors played off each other brilliantly, and I hardly stopped laughing every time any of them were on-stage. Funny as the men were, though, it was the women who made this production. They worked their dialogue for all it was worth, and since this is Shakespeare at his comedic best, it was worth quite a bit. In fact, the whole performance seemed designed to not only let the words shine, but make them understandable to someone not so well-versed in Shakespeare (like yours truly in recent years), and I think it paid off brilliantly. I intend to see this one again before the season's done.
House-hunting and job-hunting proceed apace. The accountant for whom I act as an assistant just reminded me she'll be going on vacation in early September. I have a suspicion she'll have a meltdown if I find another job before then, so I'm considering letting the whole idea rest for the time being. I just don't want to miss out on what might be the perfect opportunity, should such a thing exist when all one really wants to do is write from the comfort of one's own home office for a living.
Armed with mountains of advice from the in-laws, we're preparing to look at our first possibility this weekend in the house department. The location is perfect, and on paper it's exactly what we're looking for. We don't know how much the seller is asking, though, and we haven't seen the house yet beyond the front yard, the fence, and what you can see of the house beyond that. Pessimist that I am, I won't be surprised if it's a nightmare on the inside.
I'm facing a fannish deadline for three stories this weekend. I finished one last night, but that still leaves two very much in progress and I've got to get it in gear. Selkie is stuck. Again. *headdesk* Once I have some time to devote to it again, I may end up doing a bit of a re-write just to get past this little area that keeps tripping me up. Rar.
I finished From the Beast to the Blonde, which frees me up for the next Harry Potter. However, I also checked out The Rose and the Beast from the library, and it's looking more enticing at the moment. We'll see who wins when I have time to read again.
And I think the jicama I just ate was kinda off. The texture was a bit tough, maybe it wasn't quite ripe yet. Bleh.
*Yes, I am insanely superstitious. Sailor's daughter, remember. Also, I had a friend how killed a computer and numerous floppies writing a paper on the play and referring to it by name. Not a risk I'm willing take, as LJ has already had its blackout for the year.
The scene was set in 1935 and both Dromios dressed up Charlie Chaplin-style, though their interactions with the Antipholuses (Antipholi?) were more Abbott and Costello. All four actors played off each other brilliantly, and I hardly stopped laughing every time any of them were on-stage. Funny as the men were, though, it was the women who made this production. They worked their dialogue for all it was worth, and since this is Shakespeare at his comedic best, it was worth quite a bit. In fact, the whole performance seemed designed to not only let the words shine, but make them understandable to someone not so well-versed in Shakespeare (like yours truly in recent years), and I think it paid off brilliantly. I intend to see this one again before the season's done.
House-hunting and job-hunting proceed apace. The accountant for whom I act as an assistant just reminded me she'll be going on vacation in early September. I have a suspicion she'll have a meltdown if I find another job before then, so I'm considering letting the whole idea rest for the time being. I just don't want to miss out on what might be the perfect opportunity, should such a thing exist when all one really wants to do is write from the comfort of one's own home office for a living.
Armed with mountains of advice from the in-laws, we're preparing to look at our first possibility this weekend in the house department. The location is perfect, and on paper it's exactly what we're looking for. We don't know how much the seller is asking, though, and we haven't seen the house yet beyond the front yard, the fence, and what you can see of the house beyond that. Pessimist that I am, I won't be surprised if it's a nightmare on the inside.
I'm facing a fannish deadline for three stories this weekend. I finished one last night, but that still leaves two very much in progress and I've got to get it in gear. Selkie is stuck. Again. *headdesk* Once I have some time to devote to it again, I may end up doing a bit of a re-write just to get past this little area that keeps tripping me up. Rar.
I finished From the Beast to the Blonde, which frees me up for the next Harry Potter. However, I also checked out The Rose and the Beast from the library, and it's looking more enticing at the moment. We'll see who wins when I have time to read again.
And I think the jicama I just ate was kinda off. The texture was a bit tough, maybe it wasn't quite ripe yet. Bleh.
*Yes, I am insanely superstitious. Sailor's daughter, remember. Also, I had a friend how killed a computer and numerous floppies writing a paper on the play and referring to it by name. Not a risk I'm willing take, as LJ has already had its blackout for the year.