Sunday, February 27, 2011

Postcard From A Sunday

Good morning, good morning, good morning.
La, I'm tired. We got home at midnight last night and I say "we" because Mr. Moon tended bar at the Opera House for the show and let me just say that last night's audience did not drink NEARLY enough and they were a cruel audience, not getting warmed up until the second act and by then I'd lost all focus and was rewriting the play at will, trying to incorporate cue lines for the others in my rambling rewrites and frankly, I was as shocked as the rest of the cast.
It was a strange evening, indeed it was but here I am about to go back down there to set the tables for today's matinee luncheon and then do my hair and make-up there because there's no reason to drive back home and then get back in the car and turn around and drive back for the show.

Again I ask- how do professionals do this?

I suppose they don't set tables before the shows. Maybe.

But it's gray today although the Japanese Magnolia is opening up and there will be pictures soon because the blossoms are the most insane color of purple you'd ever want to see.
Kathleen is back in town and came and did lights last night and talk about tired- her ex-husband is still alive, but not doing well and she spent four days by his side and I don't care how a marriage ends, you don't spend a quarter of a century with someone and not have his end-time hit you hard. Bless her heart. She'll be back at the Opera House to help set tables too, and to pour mimosas as well. Gotta get that audience happy!

After the show, she and Judy and Denise are coming over here and damn, WE ARE GOING TO HAVE A MARTINI! and toast the weekend's work. One more weekend and Steel Magnolias will fold its tent and beauty shop, and the dust of our skin will be left behind to rise up from the cracks between the boards when people take pictures and they will look like the "orbs" that ghost trackers use as proof of hauntings and so yes, we shall always be there, Annelle and M'Lynn and Shelby and Claree and Ouiser and Truvy, just like all the characters who have ever become themselves there.

So good morning. Here I am. Where are you? I hope all is well. I hope the day stretches before you with endless possibility, even if that is just the possibility of doing the crossword, of having a nap, of being content with a Sunday.

Love...Ms. Moon


  1. The day is unfolding as each one does. It is a good day in so many ways. Glad that you survived a cruel audience. I don't know how the pros do it either.

  2. Sounds like you are getting into the rhythm of the run of a show -- some ups, some downs and more and more like everyday life. That's how the professionals do it. But you are right, they generally don't have to set the tables first. Here's hoping you get a wonderfully sympathetic audience tonight. x0 N2

  3. Well, my Sunday's all finished now, thanks for asking. I did go see my parents and then my sister and her family came to see us, so I suppose it's been a full day. Maybe you are doing your hair and makeup now. That would be a fun thing.

  4. You know? What you said about your audience last night? Sometimes I feel like that about my tables. It doesn't matter what you're selling, they're not buying. But then sometimes, even when they sit there stone faced all night they leave a nice tip and say everything was wonderful, which I imagine is how it was last night. You are wonderful.
    I am so glad that your ladies are coming over for martinis tonight. Y'all need some girl time after all the hard work you've been doing. I love you so so so so much.


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