But that's another story...

I'm under the pressure of learning so many lines that I'm scared.  Usually at this point in the process I have already got them under my belt and can start playing and connecting more. 

     [My own little rhyme:]  My hands look old, my voice is sore, my head is heavy, I need more strength from my core.  My time is not longer my own, my loves are near, but they still make me moan.  [end of uneven rhyme section... I'm tired.]

Longfellow still seems far away - but hey - maybe that's just how it goes.

Dave's overwhelmed too.  Poor guy.  He keeps a cleaner house than I do, but he loses his temper quicker.  After a week of on and off fever with Weston, Dave finally took him in over icy roads and fog to get some antibiotics.

Donovan's bus was cancelled twice this week from slippery roads and bracing winds.  He can't imagine anything better.  His sign-off at night is "Good night, Mom; I love you. ... I love Daddy and Weston too, but that's another story.  I smile and shake my head silently.

I hear him say the same thing to Dave: "I love you Dad; I love Mom and Weston too, but that's another story."

The word story gets kicked around a lot up here in Rosebud.  We're storytellers.  We invest in story because we believe it opens us up to truth and connects us to others.  More and more we see God as a storyteller - the writer, and so we expect the story to be laden with purpose.

Donovan and Weston learned a lesson in putting sleds away this morning as their lightweight "Sponge Bob" got blown away.  Last night there was a powerful wind storm at 1:30am.  The snow was blown sideways in great gusts.  I couldn't sleep.  It was our first day on set for Lettice and Loveage and with that raked stage, my back and legs were feeling it.  Also the pressure change with the storm  tightens my neck and shoulders and adds pressure inside my head.  So Dave and I talked for two hours in the middle of the night while our cherubs slept with slightly open lips.  So beautiful.  --Each human starts out that way... and each one is a separate treasure on a unique journey, just like me.  

On stage I'm am giving life to Lettice who lives in the glory of Shakespeare and heroes of English history.  She is undaunted in her quest to enlarge, enliven, enlighten her tourists.  I'm challenged by her ceaseless energy and her articulate argument for the Spirit of the truth as greater than the letter of the law.  But in the end, Lettice is needy and lonely: a ghost in a world of modern technology... and an unlikely friendship forms... (but that's another story and I don't want to give it away yet.)

I am humbly reminded that an actor's job is chiefly that of a servant.  I must continue to give and trust and then give some more.  It's a scary time.  I hardly get to sit down.  But I'm grateful for a new challenge and praying for good health and perspective.  I wish I could go on more about my children, my husband, my fetishes for certain foods and a longing to write more (sigh)... but that's a another story.