Life Upon The Wicked Stage

It is impossible to get lost at the Mahalia Jackson Theatre in New Orleans:

Nothing like a broad brushstroke to make you feel right at home.

Today the ladies and I woke up early to grab brunch at Cafe Beignet - not to be confused with Cafe du Monde, which is where I thought we were going.  Cajun Hashbrowns? I'm pretty sure there was crack in that sausage.  Since I got here, friends from home have been very verbal about the wonders of beignets.  My experience at Cafe Beignet was good, but the beignets themselves were merely tasty - I'd compare them to standard zeppoles at a summer carnival.  My mind has not been blown.  Cafe du Monde is on the agenda, however, and I had better be moved to tears (or at least strong adjectives).

(Recycling old pages was totally his idea.)

Gil and I have been pretty busy taking notes during tech.  I wish I had exciting stories of stage time, but its really been a lot of sitting and watching.  I need the time to write down specific blocking and placement, but until I get on my feet I won't feel completely ready.  Swinging is like constantly being in that dream where you came to school in nothing but your underwear - I feel unprepared, and I feel like people can see it.  Everyone has been so supportive, but I can't wait for the show to be open and frozen so I can commit everything to memory for good.

I have more makeup than a stripper during the holidays (and that's including all the red, green, and gold glitter).  For serious, kids, they've provided me with THREE complete sets of brushes - one for each of the makeup tracks I cover.  God forbid I use the same applicator for my Grandma pancake as my Ancestor pancake.  Maybe it has something to do with how white the ensemble faces are?  I'm sure colors bleed easily.  Grandma's base is called Straw Death or something to that affect.  That can't mix well with MAC Studio Fix in gleaming white.

(These ho's is pro's for sho's.)

Eric Winterling Costumes has fully embroidered tags in all the costumes.  I don't know why I find that so impressive, but seriously?  Even the tags are gorgeous.  I can't believe the details in each and every costume on stage - down to the buttons.  Christie is a dead 60's stewardess, and all her buttons have little wings on them.  No one will ever see that but us!  Actor gush.

I am Pooped, readers.  With a capital "P."  To bed.