First things first: I rode the Church Lady's bus again today. Her braking and accelerating technique is incredibly unsubtle and the road along which the route travels is badly in need of repair, but, in my opinion, it's all worth it when your bus driver looks like Dana Carvey in drag.
It has been the longest and most stressful month of my life (I exaggerate, of course, since I have said this about once every quarter since beginning graduate school), but it is finally opening night of Dido and Aeneas, and I couldn't be more pleased that the rehearsal period is over. There is a unique set of challenges associated with performing outdoor opera in a damp, temperate climate--most notably, I have obtained my first Washington mosquito bites during the past week, and I am still working on perfecting the crucial skill of Not Walking Into A Cloud of Gnats While Singing. Our director is no further along in that regard than I am, and on Wednesday night during the dress rehearsal, a gnat flew into his eye and, we can only presume from the amount of swelling that then took place--the poor thing ended up in a makeshift eyepatch, which I suspect he secretly loved despite the irritation, since it made him look slightly more like Wotan. That was the first night it really felt like the opera (or Dido, in any event--we'll see about Savitri) would come off successfully. I suppose the costumes made it feel more "real," rather than just another rehearsal we trudged through--we're dressed in togas (shockingly comfortable), with the chorus in masks that make them look like slightly menacing statues. This is also my first time performing opera without shoes, and there is something entirely unique about singing an aria while running barefoot through the grass. My feet were hopelessly damp by the end of the rehearsal Wednesday, but it was nice to feel the grass squishing between my toes. I believe I mentioned this in my last entry, but anyone in the Seattle area who's interested in attending can find further information here at the Seattle Metropolitan Chamber Orchestra's website, and tickets can be pre-purchased online at Brown Paper Tickets, or at the door (which is not really a door, obviously, because we're outside) prior to the show.
In light of the crushing stress of the past few weeks, life offered me a small consolation this morning: at the Starbucks near my apartment, the baristas accidentally double-marked my cup (once when I ordered, and then again when my drink was rung up), and I wound up with two double-tall caramel macchiatos instead of one. It's a simple mistake on the part of the Starbucks staff, but for all intents and purposes, I am considering it a blessing from the Beverage Gods as a reward for my patience, and for not punching anyone this week.
I didn't go to the midnight showing of Harry Potter last night, mostly because I am a grumpy old lady who needs her rest and, after all, too old to be frolicking with all those young whippersnappers late into the night. I did wear my Slytherin scarf today, though, and Paula is bringing me a Harry Potter cupcake because she went to the midnight showing last night and I am pretend-making her feel guilty about that. Also, hey, free cupcake.
Relatedly, I would really like to buy this, but I really don't have the money right now.
I haven't got much more to say, I'm afraid, so I'm just going to leave a full recording of Savitri here for anyone who would like to listen to it (and, more importantly, for me, to help me forget that a patron in the library honest-to-god, just pronounced "Wagner" incorrectly--ha!)
That's all for now. This interview's over.
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