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The director's email told me that I would have an additional small role in the play. I would now be playing "The Man", who had two lines in the show. Seven words.
Not a problem for me. The more parts the merrier as far as I'm concerned. But then I got her email.
Director- Did you get my email about your man part?
Me- What man part?
D- You have a man part.
Me- No, I don't.
D- Yes, you do. Did you get my email?
Me- I don't have a man part.
D- Yes. I told you about it in my email.
Me- I have a Va-jay-jay.
By this point I was close to peeing my pants. From my Va-jay-jay. Not from my man part.
Me- I got your email about my man part.
D- Great. So you're good with your man part?
Me- I don't have a man part. I have a Va-jay-jay.
D- LOU!!! Are you okay with your man part or not?
Me- You do know that this is going to turn into a blog, don't you?
D- What?
It would be one thing if this director was humorless, but she has a great sense of humor.
Me- Never mind. Thanks for giving me my man part. Should I talk to the costumer about getting my jock strap?
In Motherhood Out Loud I played the part of a mom whose only child left for college.
I’d start the vignette by shouting over my son’s music playing loudly in the background. The music continued playing as I described myself as an overly-protective parent whose life revolved around my son.
I described the process of moving him into his dorm room and crying all the way home.
The most powerful part of the vignette is the description of returning home alone. "And then we got home. And then we heard this: the quiet."
The music abruptly stops and there is a long, uncomfortable silence on stage as I comprehend the absence of my son and his music.
We closed Motherhood Out Loud last night.
Finally.
For the past 6 weeks a typical day would be like this: leave for work at 6:30 AM. Work until 5-ish. Fight traffic to get home. Say hi to Dave. Take Kevin for a walk. Grab something to eat. Say bye to Dave. Go to rehearsal. Come home at 10:30. Go to bed. Wake up at 6 AM and start over.
I could barely keep my eyes open at work some days. I was really looking forward to May 24th, when I could finally get my life back.
Today is May 24. I woke up this morning with nothing to do. No lines to learn. No rehearsals. No costume to find. No bio to write. No shows.
And guess what? I feel a lot like the Mom I played just last night.
And then I heard this: the quiet.
My life is quiet again.
But, unlike the Mom I played last night, I am going to do something about it.
You got it:
Time to audition for another show!
I have no one to blame but myself.
I was joking around with Debbie, one of my cast mates in Funny Little Thing Called Love. She told me that she was going to take a break from theater after our show closed.
Except she said, "Thee – A – Ter". With the emphasis on the A.
“Debbie,” I teased. “You are not taking a break from Thee – A – Ter. It’s thee-uh-ter. Soft A.”
We debated for a few minutes the correct Northern versus incorrect Southern pronunciation of the word.
I then asked her how she pronounced the word i-n-s-u-r-a-n-c-e and she, of course said "INsurance". And I informed her that the correct pronunciation is "inSURance".
I continued. “And how do you pronounce the word c-e-m-e-n-t?” I was enjoying myself.
“It is SEEment,” Debbie said, beginning to get annoyed at my cockiness.
“Si-ment,” I corrected. "Unless, of course, you're Elly May Clampett."
“WAIT A MINUTE,” Debbie said. “I’ve been meaning to tell you that you pronounce “realtor” wrong on stage EVERY NIGHT.”
“No I don’t!” I replied, defensively.
“You put an extra A in it!!!” she said. “You say, realator.”
“That’s how it’s pronounced,” I said. “Realator.”
“But it’s spelled r-e-a-l-t-o-r.” Debbie said, smugly.
Crap.
I’ve been saying "realator" all my life. Is it a New York thing? Or a Wisconsin thing?
Or just a Lou thing?
Like when I pronounced foreign ‘for-ee-gin’ in 5th grade.
OMG! How humiliating!
I had pronounced the word incorrectly six shows in a row! And I was just learning of the transgression minutes before our last performance.
I could fix it. I WOULD fix it. Better late than never, right?
As I waited offstage for my cue I repeated the words, “realtor, realtor, realtor” in my head. Debbie came up behind me and whispered, “realtor.”
I made my entrance, silently repeating the words “realtor, realtor, realtor”.
Then came my line:
“I went to a condo open house the other day and guess who the reala..real. reala.realtor turned out to be?”
I said it just like that.
Oh well. It just proves that anything can happen onstage.
After all, it is live thee-A-ter.
