A day, a day, a day.
This day. Almost done. Home from rehearsal. It was not a terrible rehearsal. We're getting there which is a good thing in that we open in nine days.
Anyway, here's a weird thing- I will be having my first stage kiss in this play since I was in high school. Uh-huh. And my first other-than-my-husband kiss in oh, well, how long have we been married? And of course it's a stage kiss. And of course, it's not really Jon and Mary, it's Leonard and Harriet.
But they do use Jon and Mary's faces and honey, that's just weird for me. And I'm sure for Jon as well, although he's done this more recently than I have. Stage-kissed, that is.
We've faked it with pecks up until tonight. At our rehearsal last night Jack said, "You guys need to start going ahead and doing the kiss so it won't be so weird."
And tonight, Jon just leaned over and kissed me on the lips.
Isn't it funny that it's a funny thing? I mean- well- it just is and I'm not sure why but honestly, it is. I got all flustered and everyone cheered and I said, "I think I might have a hot flash."
But I didn't.
Adventures in Community Theater!
Here's something else that's funny: In the play my character is a publisher at a feminist publishing house which specializes in romantic fiction. So- what could better represent romantic fiction than...Fabio?
Oh yes. Fabio. The man of a thousand romance covers art.
The I Can't Believe It's Not Butter! guy.
And so Jan has ordered a life-sized, cut-out, stand-up Fabio for Harriet's office!
It will look like this:
Oh my god. I am going to have so much fun, fondling Fabio while I make feminist pronouncements.
No. We are not furthering the cause of feminism in this play. And I don't care.
Hell, I am a grandmother. I got cast in this role and I intend to have some damn fun with it.
Me and Fabio. It's gonna be like...butta.
And so that's the report. I called my mother today. It was painful. There is absolutely nothing I can do for her dizziness and her headaches or her general unhappiness and when she told me she was lonely, I almost died in shame.
And guilt, of course. Let us not forget the guilt, the gift which keeps on giving.
The guilt I felt after I talked to her filled me up and overflowed and made me ache and feel so tired and weird that when I went to Publix, Lily asked me what was wrong. Was I okay?
No. I am not okay. But yes, I am fine.
I changed purses today. I changed over from a brown slouchy Coach backpack bag to a smaller black leather bag with pockets. I got the Coach bag on e-bay and the black leather bag at Goodwill. Both are beautiful, both are leather. But I'm going to have to change over again. The black bag is not big enough for my stuff. Not the good stuff and not the other stuff either. And the brown slouchy Coach bag is too...brown. Too fucking brown.
I have a red one just like it and a worn-to-the-bone black one too. I got them all on e-bay. And they are not what I need.
I do not know exactly what it is I do need but I need room for all of the treasures and all of the worries and all of the guilt and the love and the joy and the days-filled-with-everything and the future and the past and yes, yes, yes. It is a womb thing, it is a heart thing, it is skin/holding/touching thing.
It is a medicine bag thing. It is a lot to ask from a goddam purse.
Fabio. My mother.
Such are the things a day can be made of.
Also a grandson, groceries, and a stage-kiss on the lips. And the feeling of a baby's butt hard at the top of a daughter's womb under my palm.
It's been a day, a day, a day.
And tomorrow will be another.
I swear. It will be. I swear.