Mrs. Warren - Last Preview

Jan. 30th. Last preview. Another fabulous audience. When my costume was removed tonight I realized I'd left my own black skirt on underneath it all!! How was that possible???!!! So how many layers did I have on? The bustle petticoat, the black underskirt, the salmon skirt, the salmon overskirt... Amazing.

During the last scene I heard something fall onto the stage floor. Ooooh. We operate on so many levels when we're performing. Talk about multi-tasking....I saw my "daughter" react to it too. Was it an earring, I thought? So I'm babbling on and wondering whether it's an earring and if it is, would it be logical for me, as this character, to be aware of it and pick it up somewhere in my speech, or not - and if I don't pick it up, what are the chances that someone will tread upon it and break it during the curtain call? All these thoughts are going through my head AS I'm speaking. I did manage a glance or two at the ground and saw nothing and thought my character at this moment wouldn't give a d*amn about an earring, if she had lost one, and I personally couldn't be concerned at this point if someone DID tread upon it. I mean this was a VERY heated moment. So I chose to do nothing.

Never did find out what it was. When I got back up to my dressing room I thought it might have been a button that fell off my costume - but no, all were in tact. Trent, our fabulous wig man, suggested it might be a hair pin. Maybe so. The mystery remains such.

Poor Vivie had a brain burp in the first scene and danced with a couple of lines. Ah, but she and Praed'sr faces were wrapped in the error when we made our first entrance. He got off stage and didn't know if it was his fault or hers. So terribly off-putting when you do that. Upset everything for quite a while. I've been there - done that. I know it well. It just makes you feel ICKY all over. And then you tend to worry for the rest of the play (depending on how egregious the mis-step was). Makes you very nervous. Just an awful feeling. I tried to make light of the situation by telling her it was only a preview and that this was all part of the learning process. Is it ever NOT a learning process?

Mrs. Warren First Preview

January 27, 2008

Passing thoughts - stream of consciousness. New ruffle at the bottom of my bussel underskirt - very odd feeling when walking. A whole new thing in weight shifting. It actually changes how I move - something new to deal with.

Bonnet in Act IV going to be placed higher on the wig. Wonder how that will go? Last night I kept thinking it was falling off. It wasn't, but it was placed so low on the back of the wig it hit against the back of the dress collar (which is very high) and made me think it was coming off. Parasol - they added 8" to the stem. Initially I had to hold it very far above my head so as not to have it hit against the hat and I'm sure it looked ridiculous. Now it's longer and there's also a wrapped tassel on the bottom. Ooooh, all sorts of new things to deal with on our first preview.

As we were rehearsing some of the director's work notes this afternoon I got caught on the bloomin' rug. Never in my life have I been on a stage with rugs that weren't tacked down to the floor in some way. And although I much admire our set designer's work, I want to STRANGLE him for designing a show with representational set pieces that may actually kill us. I have - let's see - how many things to be cognizant of?: bussel and floor length dress (a costume that makes the audience gasp when I enter), gloves, parasol, fan, hat, getting in the right position for the lights, ENDLESS LINES, and with all that attempting to have some emotional reality going on and there's a d*mn rug that's also supposed to be in my cavernous brain recepticle to remember not to trip on. AAAArrrgh.

I told our director jokingly that if I tripped on it and knocked my teeth out on the bench I'd sue the bloody theatre! But it's my job to make it work and make it look like it's not even thought of. For this - I should get paid more money. Ha!

What a spectacular audience they were tonight. I said to Preston, "Please hire them to come every night." They really listened and got the jokes, they laughed and were with us. As Allan (who plays Praddy) said, "they seemed an audience that really wanted to be here."

An oh how much they taught us: what worked and what didn't work and what work we need to do. A VERY gracious audience they were. And how awful we'll feel when we don't have the same sort - as this is the benchmark. And how we will either curse them or blame ourselves for the lack of what we experienced tonight in response. Tonight was our first test. And the test went very well indeed.

Thoughts - on my entrance - the little gasp of delight at the outfit I was wearing. Did they hear anything that was being said for the first few minutes or were they just ogling the magnificence of Kelsey's costumes? One doesn't get to see such clothing like this often and it is quite spectacular. How do you even begin to describe such? As soon as I'm back home with my own computer I'll download all sorts of pretty pictures.

After the preview husband and I went back to the apartment. He cooked dinner (as he does every night - he enjoys it and I'm a lousy cook) while I made notes on the show re things I wanted to either work or comment on for tomorrow's note/work session.

Sleep is hard to come by.

The Mrs Before and After

Ah Theatah - ain't it grand!

Mrs. Warren

Jan. 24, 2008

Oh I love these kids. And I am overflowing with emotion for all of them. And what can I give them? What of me can I give? How can I enrich their life experience? What value can I impart? I'm speaking of the various interns and students working amongst us. Such youth and vitality and enthusiasm. Was I ever that young and enthusiastic? Yes. Of course. Why only yesterday I was 18, right?!!!

Mrs. Warren - Concerns

January 21, 2008

We start tech week tomorrow. On our day off today I went to the theatre to deposit one load of necessaries to my dressing room: makeup; Equity Deputy Packet; a case of Diet Sprite; wig for between show days; long red sweater. We were happily informed that the theatre will be kept cold during tech so that those under the lights for hours won’t melt like the wicked witch into a puddle on the stage floor. Which means for those sitting in the house, you’d better have something warm to put on for the duration. (Our Stage Manager, Catherine, just stays in her coat the whole show.)

(On the dressingroom doors were our names, in an elegant frame. This is a real classy joint. I later put a photo up under mine. See attached photo.)

I also went down and walked about the set for five minutes or so. The main stage platform is 6" or more off the stage floor, and then there’s a “slip” wagon that is drawn out which is about 4" high. I doubt I’ll be able to draw up my skirts enough with one hand to manage getting up on the main platform as husband and I enter from the vom. So I may have to pass off my parasol to him, or cut the parasol, which would be a pity as I’m sure it will be a pretty image. And that will also be true of our entrance in Shaw’s Act III. I will spend much time endeavoring to make it work, but there are limits to one’s abilities in corset, long dress, with reticule and fan in left hand and parasol in right.

One major concern for me is going up and down these differing platform heights. I had achilles surgery March last and I am barely able to walk without a limp. For the past ten months I have worn only flats and am now in a heel appropriate to the period (lace up boots). It’s difficult enough to maneuver in those, but with the added burden of a multi-level set, it will be an even greater challenge. As soon as we open I hope to get to the gym and continue to try to strengthen that calf and ankle. One of the things I mentioned early on to our director was my concern that the dress might get caught on the edge of the stage. I’ve been in the business 35 plus years and have done enough period pieces to have experienced most of the disasters that can occur. And snags are quite common. I once did Strindberg’s Playing with Fire at the Roundabout and the costumer had me in a frilly silk dress - layers and layers of gorgeous pink silk. I believe it was the first dress rehearsal, where I got up from the wicker couch and the dress snagged on a piece of the wicker. It just tore about a 14" rip in the silk. I thought to myself, “DON’T DESIGNERS TALK TO EACH OTHER???? You have a wicker couch and a frilly silk full length dress????” NOT a good idea, kids. Anyway - I’m a bit gun shy of snagging after THAT experience. Tomorrow will tell the tale. Will I be right in my fears or wrong? And if right, oh heaven help me.

Thinking about the set and costume and boots and platforms kept me awake half of one night. It’s amazing to try to act when you are bound up like a mummy in a corset, bustle, petty coat, underskirt, overskirt, blouse, gloves, wig, hat.....

(Turns out all of my worries were for naught. It all worked out just fine. It usually does. Why don’t I ever remember that?!!! Dumb.)

Mrs. Warren - Designer Run

Jan. 20th

Preston is back from his bout with the croupe. We’ve had a couple of run throughs by now and today we did what they call a “designer run” - yes, for the designers: set, costumes, lights, sound, etc. Some of them we hadn’t seen since our first “meet ‘n greet” on day one. And our vocal coach was also out there. And of course you’re trying to impress them all, and it all feels strange with these new faces in the room staring at you, and the acting goes out the window. What we forget (or shall I speak for myself only here) is that each of them is looking at is from his point of view only and not necessarily from an “audience” POV. The lighting designer is mulling over what color gel to use in what sequence, the sound man conjuring pretty set change interludes, etc. But then there is the vocal coach whom you know is sitting our there with bat-like ears picking up EVERY incorrect dialectical stress you make and because of her presence, most of your focus in the beginning of the run is on accent. All emotional reality dissolves when you’re just listening to yourself speak. Dreadful. Fortunately that focus does eventually revert to the background of your consciousness once you’re in the thing for a while.

At the end of the first act I wondered why I had gone into this business and was convinced that I should perhaps take some of Mr. Lane’s college acting classes. And let me tell you, this is not a happy feeling (even though I’ve not doubt his classes are fabulous). Though I know I’m a good actress, when you feel that the muse has deserted you, all faith in your abilities flees. When I can’t believe what I’m saying, how can I expect an audience to believe it?? But that’s where technique comes into play. And that’s what enables you to go on to Act II and not immediately run to the nearest plumbing trade school tuition money in hand.

Mrs. Warrren - NPR Interview

Jan. 19, 2008

Director down the croupe. Not the one I’ve gone through twice, but the stomach version. Stage Manager had it first, then the Asst. Stage Mgr., now Preston. Rehearsal cancelled. Though Rebecca (the lass that plays me’ daughter) and I worked on our two scenes and then had an NPR interview after.

(Here’s the link if you want to listen: http://wfdd.org/audio/tauc/tauc0122low.MP3.)

I’m much better with visual interviews than audio only. I sound like a bleedin’ idiot when you can’t see me. And sometimes even when you CAN see me. I’m great with the written word, when I’ve time to parse it all out neatly in my mind. (And our written vocabulary is thrice that of speech.) Lousy with impromptu speaking, unless I’ve "had a few" and am loose enough to be m’self. But when I try to sound intelligent on a radio interview - well it’s not dissimilar to the early, youthful, inexperienced auditioning process. (I’m starting to use as many adjectives as Mr. Saw - heaven help me!). When you go in desperately trying to be what you think they want you to be, instead of just being yourself, which is usually much more interesting. Anyway - they can edit to pieces in a way that will enable you to sound much better - or much worse - than what was the reality.

Not having heard the interview as yet I’d be surprised if any editing could have helped me. Ms. Rebecca did splendidly, I thought. I should have just shut up and let her carry the show. One thing I was pleased with, however, was that our interviewer, a Mr. Bradley George (or was it George Bradley - poor soul to be forever caught between equal sounding surnames) said he enjoyed my blog. Never having written for public “consumption” (oh dear I wonder if that word set off the Internet Alcohol Police?) I am genuinely curious as to the merits of my pursuing such a thing. In our day and age, everyone not only thinks he can be an actor, but he thinks that his opinings are of utter fascination to the world at large. This is all due to Oprah and Dr. Phil and dear old Jerry S., no doubt. Where we get to witness the emotional vomitings of the plebeians. And I surely don’t wish to be included in their set. So if my reality show here is of that ilk, please don’t hesitate to inform me by a responsive post. Pressing the delete key on my own vomitings does not distress me in the slightest.

Mrs. Warren - First Run Through

Jan. 16, 2008

Had our first run through today. Not too bad actually. A bit on a rocky road here and there, a few potholes that need filing, but on the whole I think we did pretty darn good. Lines I’ve never missed before in my life I missed tonight. But it’s ever thus. When you’re in the heat of a new emotion, the lines fly away. You can know them stone cold perfect when you’re doing them at home, but it’s a whole ’nother ball game when you’re actually acting them in earnest.

I found it very helpful today to just calm down and tell my story in Act II and to trust in Mr. Shaw’s lines. And one of the reasons I was able to do that was because I saw Olivier’s “Entertainer” a night or two prior. And he has an enormous monologue of a story. And you just sit there rapt watching it. A good story is a good story and if you tell it truthfully, you can trust that an audience will find it interesting. Of course if you’re an Olivier, you can read the phone book and make it interesting. And I must allow that I have a wee bit of talent me’self and trust in my abilities. But Act II of this piece is truly a daunting experience for the lady who plays the “Mrs.” It’s quite a train ride with many different stations and countries to visit. But an audience must be willing to listen hard to the philosophical discussions being represented. In this age of quick cuts and brief sound bites, we should not fault ourselves too much for gentlemen snoring in the front row. Just hope that you don’t suddenly turn and find yourself looking in their direction. That can be a little off putting.

Speaking of off putting - for years announcements have been made in theatres to turn off pagers, and now cell phones. But there is always some idiot who fails to do so. Hear this - should you be in that category of idiots - you not only jar the actors’ sensibilities and take us right out of the moment and time period of the play, but you also do so for your fellow audience members. You horribly remind us all that we are in a theatre and remove us all from the emotional reality that is going on. And you are a total boor. If I had my druthers I would stop the show and smash your cell phone to bits and bar you from any further live theatrical entertainment. There is a shared intimacy between actors and their audience and you belong rather in a sporting arena where the general cacophony of the event will swallow your cellular rudeness.

Mrs. Warren - Jan. 7th

January 7th

Monday. First day off was spent locating various stores. A Sally’s Beauty Shop, Target, Party Store, Dollar Store, Food Lion, etc. Bought more opening night gifties.

Tues: Costume fitting first thing. Fabulous, fabulous. Reams and reams of muslin in gorgeous pleated folds. They actually make an entire mock up of the costume in muslin before doing it for real in the fabric of choice. I can’t imagine having to sew such a thing TWICE let alone once. First the corset is laced up the back, then the petticoat/bustle - over the head? Then - oops - always, ALWAYS must remember to put the boots on PRIOR to the corset. Else you can’t bend over to lace them up. (Mental note to put a yellow stickie on dressingroom mirror to remind me of such.) That’s why all those Victorian women had such lovely postures and also why they fainted all the time. One always (if one has any sense) puffs one’s chest out like a startled blow fish when being fitted in a corset - else you won’t be able to take a breath on stage. Costume designers want their outfits to look magnificent, but they oft' forget that one must breathe when wearing them. An actors’ comfort often becomes secondary to the design. I need - above all - to have the ability to project my voice to the back of the house, and I can’t do that if I can’t get a full diaphragm of air. So - I become a blowfish during my fittings.

Prior to the fitting I got myself on the stage to check out the lay of the land. Quite a balcony. Must remember to keep me ‘ed up (my head up), else expressions will be lost. And make sure that the vom pillar is taped or smoothed. It has a bit of a jagged edge. Experience has long ago taught me that when you’re in a floor-length, petticoated, bustled, corseted, hatted, gloved, parasoled costume, it WILL catch, inevitably, on SOMETHING. There’s just too much of you for the allotted space. I expressed such concerns (which kept me awake last night) to our director, suggesting that all edges of the stage platform be made especially smooth. Been there, done that too many times, when you’re walking up a step and you’re snagged. And silk tears very easily for all it strength. I also mentioned this to our costumer. She made a note to keep the hems tight.

Anyway, where was I? Ah yes, the costume. Haven’t worn one of these in quite a long while. They’re quite spectacular looking, but a royal pain to deal with. Once the whole thing was on, I looked like a female centaur - put a tail on my backside and you could ride me with that extension of a bustle. Fortunately Kelsey had a collapsible, accordion-type bustle constructed. So when I sit, I don’t take up the entire length of the bench. So glad she did. It’s my challenge to look like it’s the most natural thing in the world to be in this get up. To make it look easy, when it is anything BUT. And another blessing is that there won’t be any train on it. The set is very constricted (slip stage small) and inevitably people (especially the men) would be treading all over it. I’ve never ever been in a show where I had to wear a train when the men did not step on it. And it occurred to me only recently that perhaps the same was true in those days when this type of clothing was normally worn. If we can rehearse with such gowns for hours and and it happens, it must have happened back then too, no? Or did people just know to keep a natural distance between each other? I don’t know. Anyway, if there is any treading on dresses to be done, it will be by my own self in this case, I think. I must remember to stand up fully before moving, else I’ll step and trip all over my own self.

Worked on the 4th Act today. We need pacing and dynamics and tension and high stakes. At the moment it feels like we’re just talking AT each other, and that’s death for an audience. Well, we’re still struggling with lines, so that’s an excuse. But we’re an amorphous blob that cries out for specificity, and I feel like we’re just repeating the same old blocking. This set is very limiting because it’s minimalist and not realistic and there’s only so much patterning you can do. Everything is somehow too safe. We must create some danger. We must make it ALIVE. Currently it’s just a group of people having interesting drawing-room conversations and we must break through that. If our hearts don’t beat any faster - neither will our audiences.

Actor Housing

Actor Housing
1/6/08

Tonight little miss plumber went into action. I managed to get the shower nozzle off and removed the hideous water saver. So much water was being saved that I could barely rinse myself off. I mean really. There ARE limits. If it takes you 20 minutes with a drizzle to rinse yourself vs four minutes with a waterfall - what are we SAVING????!! STUPID, HATEFUL, DUMB IDEA water savers. And those hideous new toilets that you have to flush three times to get you-know-what down when the old one-gulpers would do the trick quite nicely. Dumb! Where's Mr. Crapper when you need him? Ah the ecologically minded have wonderful aspirations and no sense whatsoever. Or let's say their execution of the ideas are dreadful. Let's not drill in the Anwar, let's be dependent on foreign oil oh yeah....but don't get me started. That's for another blog called "How Stupid Can You Get" or "The Other Point of View" or actually what I'd call it is "180 Degrees" which is sometimes what my internal temperature feels like when dealing with idiots or water saving devices.

Actors housing: this is a brand new place recently constructed. Cheaply recently constructed - in certain areas. Hollow doors, of course, plastic fake wood floors. Nice kitchen cabinets. But whomever designed the apartments' interiors must have been nuts or should have stayed in Architectural School a little longer. Somebody should have seriously questioned some of the design choices. Two features in particular: The bedroom has a partial glass wall with a door in it. Actually half a wall with a glass door . You enter your apartment and right there on the left or right side (depending on your apt.) is the glass windowwall/door. Ergo no privacy whatsoever. And it's not like the view from your bedroom windowwall/door is interesting for it just looks at the entrance hallway. And you can't put any artwork on glass (unless you want a suction cup frog decal) so it's totally useless and an incredible stupid idea. We tacked up a blanket and a sheet we'd brought to close it off - from the morning light.

But the worst design of all, bar none, is the bathroom sink. Ever so pretty to look at. It's made of hammered copper I believe (and I do think it's real copper), a round sink in a square wooden unit. The unit is higher than normal which must be nice for tall people. But the faucet, which is a very graceful goosed necked thing is positioned too far to the rear, so that you cannot wash your face without getting water all over yourself, the sink unit, and the floor. AND because the sink has no overflow drain hole, no air is getting where it needs to get in order for the sink to drain properly. I bend over the tub and wash my face that way, husband uses the kitchen sink. Whomever designed that sink faucet combo should be forced to live with it themselves for their lifespan.*

The closet is another absurdity. It has the ubiquitous, cheap do-it-yourself plastic hanging racks that look not dissimilar to what you find in your older refrigerators. You know, that lovely open plastic shelving - like an over rack. And because the closets are too narrowly constructed for the placement of the rack units, when your clothes are hanging, the folding accordion style doors mash everything as they are opened and closed. Another 6 inches in depth would have done the trick, but that would have cut into your 9 X 11 bedroom. But then the accordion doors aren't latched correctly on the top of their tracks, which actually helps the situation.

The furnishings - by Triad Stage, aren't too bad. The Board gave us a nice greeting packet of toilet paper, paper towels, tissues, soap, dishwasher fluid, etc. VERY helpful to an actor who has just arrived and is starting all day rehearsals, memorizing script at night and doesn't have a whole lot of time to shop for such. Especially that first day.

Our Company Manager, Jimmy T did a nice job of decorating the place with various pictures and vases filled with strange tall grasses. I understand that Preston's creativity was also involved. Apparently he found some Japanese writing which he framed and put on the wall. It's as homey as it could be.

But "City View" (the name of the place) it is NOT. We look out on the BENNETT water tower and a huge electrical tower (or was it a cell tower?). To the left is the train depot. And trains go through several times an hour (all through the night) with whistles blaring. (An actress moving in as we were vacating said she enjoyed the sound of trains. Good for her.) The place is also not far from the Fire Dept. So you also hear the sirens days and night. AND because the place is still under construction there's constant noise going on. Sleep is hard to come by.

*Sink update: the handyman (a great guy) came over and discovered a piece of wood??? in the faucet which golly gee was slowing down the water flow from the tap. Once he removed it things got a little better. But we still washed our faces in the tub.

Mrs. Warren Set Design

When I first saw the set design by Howard Jones, I was horrified. He not only had rugs scattered here and there around the set but a platform to have to walk up and down upon (in a floor length skirt). And the "rugs" could not be tacked down to the stage floor as they had to be moved during the set changes. Never have I been on a stage when rugs were not secure. I was not a happy camper. But as usual everything turned out fine. One just had to take extra care in moving about. And how beautiful the set looked from afar.

Mrs. Warrren Costume Sketches

Kelsey Hunt did a fantastic job with the costumes. Here are a couple of sketches she did of her designs for the Mrs. and Vivie. Color choices ended up changing. Preston (our Director) thought red too obvious a choice for Act. I and II and so I was put in pink instead. (Actually now that I've seen some photos of moi in Act I, do not think that color was at all good with the colors of the set which were yellows and golds and greens. The pink clashed like crazy to my mind. But whaddo I know...) Act III became a gorgeous deep burgundy, with the most gorgeous hat you've ever seen in your life designed by Trent Pcenicni (don't even TRY to pronounce it) and Act IV had an overlay of black lace that was to die for. And all my costumes were made of silk so they had no weight and were lovely to wear.

Mrs. Warren - First Rehearsal

(Let me preface this post by saying that I cannot now view my last post from this computer at the theatre housing complex. Whatever I wrote upset the internet "content" with reference to "dru gs/al cohol. And believe me I wrote nothing that a 5 year old couldn't read. Anyway, because of it, any reference I now have to such items will either have asterisks in the words or something funky so that I can get back into my blog here. We'll see if this method works.)


Jan. 2, 2008. First day of "Mrs. Warren" rehearsal. What an utter disaster it was. We thought we had arisen early enough to get to the dru gstore for some Clariton D for me. I stupidly left my little packet of 5 at home but managed to bring every other dr*g in our medicine cabinet. Yesterday the Walmart pharmacy was closed (as it was Jan. 1st), and we managed to arrive at Riteaid at precisely 5:05 and they had just closed, natch. But it took us longer to get organized than expected. It's almost impossible for the two of us to dress in the bedroom here at the same time as it's rather close quarters, so we must take turns. We only managed to leave 15 minutes before the 10:30 call. Husband dropped me off at the theatre and went to park the car in the lot (which he'd never seen before.) It seems to take him an eternity to return. I suggested to Jimmy since most everybody else had walked over to the temporary rehearsal hall that they're using (due to construction of several new spaces on the third floor of the theatre), that I should go over and to please let husband know how to get there. He eventually appeared. Apparently he had to park way near the top and then, being unfamiliar with the place, find his way back down.

Upon entering the rehearsal hall I notice it's rather chilly. Today was the coldest day of the year thus far here, a brisk 31 degrees and it feels not unlike that inside. There are a few people milling about. We're told that they're having problems with the heat but that the gas company is due shortly. That's good. We keep our coats on. How I wish I'd worn my long johns, pants and wool socks, but alas I decided to dress like a lady in a skirt and tights. That'll teach me!

We milled around introducing ourselves to each other. "I'm Jon," said one young lad who looked like an icicle in the making. I had brought along my knee-length red sweater which I offered him and he gladly accepted. After 35 years in this business I have learned that rehearsal halls are inevitably too hot or too cold, so I generally come prepared for both. However I was not prepared for no heat whatsoever.

More milling. The costumer wanted my measurements. I was aghast. "I have to take off my clothes in this frigid ice box?" No, thank God. She just plumbed me over my clothing. Meanwhile I've asked our company manager to get me some Clariton D. He's the one who first told me about it. I was shocked to learn you need to show your driver's license and sign away your first born as it's an FDA Danger Drug. If you bought enough of it, apparently you can make m-eth out of it. At a dollar a pill to buy it over the counter m-eth might be cheaper.

Eventually the whole theatre gang arrives en masse (management, artistic staff, designers, props, tech director, etc.). And we mingle more. Our proofs of citizenship are displayed and copied so that we can insure that we're not illegals. As if that ever stopped anyone from getting a job.

The Stage Manager asks to see the Actors' Equity members privately. Oh, yes, must elect a "Deputy." There are four Equity members in this cast of six. Naturally no one wants the job. Oh bloody Hell , I'll do it. sigh.

Finally everyone gets seated at the huge table in the center of the room - the rest of the folk around the perimeter in chairs against the wall. The formal introductions begin. Design sketches had been pinned to the wall - which was a first for me. Makes much more sense to do it that way as one can gaze at them at leisure. Normally they're passed around and you never feel you have enough of an opportunity to really study them. And you want to because it's one of the first character visitations you'll have. It's the beginning of your physical world.

There were Very Brief words from the designers (usually they take a goodly amount of time to show off their work - but perhaps they were desiring to flee to someplace warm). Meanwhile someone handed me a brown bag with the Clariton D in it. Oh goodie, I'll be able to breathe think I. But when I look at it I realize it's not the Danger D*ug with the Pseudo*phedrine in it but the other without it, which does nothing for my nasal passages. Ah well. Then we are suddenly told that we'll be taking a one hour break and that the venue will be moved to the Green Bean, an eatery just up the block which has a WARM conference room. Thank God.

Husband and I rush off to find a drug store (the only one down town closed), so we have to travel a few miles. He goes and gets the car from the top of the lot and picks me up (always the gentleman). We finally find a dr*gstore, I exchange the Clariton, he dashes into Harris Teeter, I to Subway to grab sandwiches, dash back, he drops me off at the Bean and goes to park the car again. All of this took our entire lunch hour.

I walk into the Bean and inquire as to the whereabouts of the Conference Room and am told it's just around to the left. Ah. It's a large closet. There is a table in the center surrounded by chairs and that basically takes up ALL of the available space in the room. It reminded me of Thanksgiving at some of our relatives where you're all scruntched together with hardly any elbow room. But it IS warm.

I squeeze in and try to find a place to put my tote bag, pocketbook and husband's large briefcase. I wonder how my 6'6" husband will fit. But he does, amazingly. There is barely room enough on the table to open our scripts fully. Perhaps if the Pointsettia's were removed from the center?....Nooo....

We begin to read through the play - OVER the music that is blasting through the Bean along with the sound of the espresso machine, for the walls of this cozy closet do not append the ceiling. But it is WARM. It took all one's focus to get through the first two acts. Any possible acting values for myself were out the window. It's difficult to speak and listen under such circumstances.

Though we were all grateful for the warmth, we had to abandon the place for the noise factor. BUT, we were told we have a lovely new place to go to - a real theatre down the block that was WARM, thank God.

So we grab, once again, all our belongings and head out. Husband and I are graciously picked up in an auto so we don't have to walk. The dramaturge's books and SM accoutrement are put in the trunk and off we go to the Broach Theatre. Lug all out stuff in. They had recently closed "Tuna Christmas," and the remains of the set are scattered all over the stage. Stage management, et al, begin moving things to the side and trying to find some surfaces for scripts and chairs for bottoms. We don't all fit around one table but seat ourselves where we can. They miraculously manage to find out how to turn on some stage lights for us to read by.

Gee, it feels a little cool in here. Very cool. Yes, it's definitely cold in here. We once again remain in our coats. Whatever heating was provided was hardly sufficient. Oh cr*p. This is now at the point of absurdity. I got the giggles for a while. That was pleasant. Absolute chaos the entire day. Why is is EVER THUS? Ah Theatuh. I don't remember now which act we began reading here, but we took a little break after it. I went to try to find the bathroom. The closer one they couldn't figure out how to turn the lights on and I didn't relish being in there in pitch black so I went to the one at the back of the theatre.

We begin reading Act III. I thought my husband did brilliantly. I was amazed. How can you be brilliant under such circumstances? But he was and did the whole act off book almost. And he was worried about lines?!!!!

We finally finish our read-through, the dialect coach gives us notes and our director says we're going to adjourn for the day. It's only about 4 pm, but it's just too bloody cold to continue. My legs are like two blocks of ice. One of our members looked like a tortoise hiding in her shell of a coat. ABANDON SHIP!

We got home and I stripped off my clothes and put on long underwear and wool socks. Took me about 2 hours to finally warm up. Husband made pea soup from the Christmas ham bone we brought with us. He provides dinner for us most nights. Am I a lucky lady or what!

Called the rehearsal hot line. Tomorrow at 11 am we're called - same initial place. We're told it's now warm there. I'm going to bring my long underwear, pants, wool sweater and socks, gloves and hat - just in case. I know it can only be up from here. Right?

This was our first working with our director, Preston Lane, who also happens to be the Artistic Director of the Theatre. You can imagine what HE must have been going through. Fortunately he has a tremendous sense of humor, did not lose it, and made us feel as comfortable and welcome as he could under the circumstances.

If none of this had happened - it would have made for a very boring Blog story, eh?

Leaving for the Gig

(Note: I've had to hyphenate odd words because the computer where I'm staying has a problem with dr ugs and alco hol, the mere words, so I'm trying to work around it.)

So we're getting ready to leave on Dec. 31st for Greensboro. The packing process begins. Being in this business as long as we have, we've developed what I term the OOT (Out of Town) List. A check list of those things we want to take with us that has been honed to a diamondlike perfection after 35 years. We are beyond anal retention here. This list is about five pages long and is divided up into various categories. Of course we drive, otherwise we'd be unable to take the majority of our life with us. We are like snails that carry our houses with us.

OFFICE SUPPLIES - include the obvious from stamps, envelopes, address book to scotch tape, lap top and rulers (29 other items in all). You never know when one of them will come in handy.

HARDWARE/HOUSEWARE - 100 watt bulbs because they ALWAYS give you only 60 watt bulbs and there are usually only two lamps in the place, one of which has a broken switch and a burned out bulb; a bathtub/sink stopper because they never hold water, an extension cord (you generally find you'll need one), etc., etc.

KITCHEN - this is the largest category and takes up an entire page by itself. Theatre housing is notorious for 3 bent forks, a spoon and perhaps the most hideous Dollar Store wine glass you've ever seen. Forget there being a broiling pan available or anything over a six inch frying pan. Do bring your favorite coffee mug. If there IS a potato peeler it definitely has seen better days as has the can opener and the melted plastic ladle. Oh, and unless you're a Brit, do bring along a couple of ice cube trays if you like ice in your drinks and don't expect any there the first night of your stay because inevitably the freezer will have only been defrosted a few hours before you arrive. Well, either that or there will be an igloo inside the freezer compartment which you will need a sledge hammer to break up if you wish to keep anything other than a miniature package of frozen peas.

Of course if you fly this is all a moot point. Though you are allowed to ship a certain allotted Equity enforced free poundage which management must pay for. No doubt a concession which management rues, but does anyone really understand what an actor goes through when leaving his home for seven weeks or three months or, God forbid - a year's TOUR. The latter is beyond my imaginings. I'd need my own train compartment.

Where was I? Oh, the odd kitchen items one may not think of - knife sharpener/ whetstone. Imagine, if you will, how many actors over how many years used that same knife to chip out the freezer igloo. It's never been sharpened nor replaced. Jack the Ripper would have had to take up different employment.

DR-UGS - well in the old days, it might have been psycho-tropics, but these days it ranges from prescriptions for GERD to an ice pack. Getting old is so much fun.

MISCELLANEOUS - things like a camera to a Swiss army knife, ear plugs to a sewing kit

FOOD - all those items in your fridge that will rot 'ere you return, condiments - why not save some money - bo*ze and cookies. Not that bo-oze will rot, but believe me the first thing you'll want to do after unpacking is have a nice cock*tail.

GAMES and TOYS - is really a category that has almost disappeared off the list. It includes books, but as I've mostly played leading roles, there's little time for games in the dressingroom.

THE SHOW - has items that range from makeup to a wig. In the majority of the shows I've done (being a clahsical theeeahtah ahchtress), I've had to wear a wig, which means you must first put your hair in pin curls. On two-show days you can a) remove all the pin curls - which takes forever - and then re-do them prior to the second show, which also takes forever and cuts into your dinner hour b) wear some hideous scarf which makes you look like you're currently undergoing chemo or c) put on another wig. When I was doing "To Kill a Mockingbird" at Ford's Theatre, several of the black actresses wore wigs on a daily basis - just for fun. And we all went around the corner one day, and got ourselves a new look. I bought myself a short brunette thingie that made me look very pixieish. Since then I've always used that wig on two-show days.

The other SHOW items I usually take are certain talismans, baubles, photos I've gleaned from research, accent tapes if appropriate, and a huge vase of gorgeous silk flowers. A long time ago a friend of my mother's gave me on one opening night a check for $75. My mother had then recently passed away. She said it was "from mom." I was rather overwhelmed and thought, how would I spend it? I went to Michael's and chose the most beautiful individual flowers and created a magnificent arrangement. So now I always have not only Emmy, but Ma with me on gigs.

Where was I? Once again I digress. Packing up. Why it is that even though one has this perfect list, it still takes FOREVER to pack? I'm trying to pour the remainder of a large shampoo bottle into a smaller vessel when the top breaks off. What should have taken two minutes now takes 15 for I had to then do it drip by drop rather than a squeeze. What clothes and shoes and jewelry to take? I always take more clothes than I ever wear. I always think I'll dress like a lady and always end up in jeans. I might as well just take two tops and two pairs of pants and be done with it. But I never do.

And why is it one feels the need in these final few precious hours to do things like clean areas of the bathroom one never before considered? Or do desk work that you've paid absolutely no attention to for the past year? Why is that?

Now, if we don't take the Christmas ornaments off the tree, the tree will sag and the ornaments may fall off and break. Aside from the fact that it's positively no fun to take ornaments off a very dead tree. We know. We once left it up 'til almost Easter. What a mess THAT was. So that's another thing that needs be done.

And then there are our three cats. We're told by the local vet that a bit of a human antihistamine will make them drowsy - approximately 1 mg per pound of cat. They already know SOMETHING IS UP because the two of us are off the wall with tension and there are boxes everywhere and we are not at all acting like our normal selves. They sense the change in energy level. And then of course, when the carrying cages come up from the basement - the jig's up. The ONLY time carry boxes are employed are under unpleasant circumstances. They aren't stupid. They know this. It usually means going to the vet for shots, or traveling to strange new, scary places. Their guards are up.

OK. Here we are at the day of LEAVETAKING. Husband says - "Oh, I'll take care of giving the cats the pi-lls. I'll just put it in some wet food..."

Right. Food gone, pi-ll remains. Now we have to finger force it down their throats - IF we can get them. Our big boy, Mr. Docile, is growling and husband can't hold onto him. Ooookaaaay. Time to wrap them in towel like a straight jacket. He holds, I shove down the gullet. Trying to capture our autistic cat (he's gotta be autistic), is a true study in patience. NEVER EVER GET A YELLOW CAT!. Behind the couch, dash to under the chair, by the table, behind the couch. Fortunately he finally realizes that at some point SOON he's either going to be trapped or the WRATH OF KAHN will be upon him and he more or less gives up. I SOOOOO want to strangle the little bugger - my fingers itch - but I say in a soothing voice between clenched teeth(I AM an actress after all), "It's all right sweeeeetie, everything is going to be aaaallll right." And then trying to get him into the carrying cage. Squeeze his hind legs together and force them in first because there ain't no way he's going in head first, then mash the rest of his miserable yellow body into the cage. Ah. Finally. All three cats are in the cars. I'm taking the two boys, husband taking the girl.

We're loaded to the gunnels with two vans. We each let the cats out so they can roam freely and use the litter boxes we've set up in each. The boys howl and howl...and howl. Mugwump, our usually implacable one, is growling and actually barking like a dog. Talk about stressed. He eventually calms down. Butternut, the hideous yellow brat, howls for over an hour and pants. He does not take at all well to car travel. So much for the calming effects of antihistamines.

Finally after three hours we arrive at the theatre where we meet the Company Manager and are taken to our apartments, side by side, one flight up. Jimmy offered to help us load in, but we knew he had a New Year's Eve party to go to. Poor guy, I let him carry the litter box up. He would have preferred to have taken one of the cats, I know, but they were so freaked out I thought it better we take them. I tried to get Mugwump into his cage - forget it. We're given the lay of the land and Jimmy goes off to celebrate. How many trips up and down those concrete stairs did we make? Who knows. We finally finish unloading, carry two of the cats up in our arms but the Yellow? Oh, well, he's managed to place himself under the back seat where only a bat could fit. I manage to pull his head through the small opening and try to squash the rest of his body while reaching under and pushing from behind to no avail. Although I'd like to kill him, I don't want to hurt him. Odd dichotomy three. Finally the little bastard comes out and I grab him by more than the scruff of his thick yellow neck and hold him at a very judicious distance from my person as I walk up the stairs to the apartment. I already have one deep hole in my thigh from earlier in the day, thank you.

5:30 pm and we're IN! We're exhausted. What did we have for dinner? I don't remember. Ah, yes, dear husband found a Harris Teeter and got us turkey burgers, but got lost coming back for there is no street sign for this street we're on.

We had brought some champ*agne and went over to celebrate with the pussies (we're keeping them in the other apt. - do you wonder why?...). They were all in hiding.

Happy New Year!

I've got the bloody, blasted croup AGAIN. Very debilitating. Had hoped to play tennis tonight at the pick-up games but too tired. Hope I'm well enough by Saturday for our normal match.

Meanwhile we've only got a few days left before we take off for Triad Stage and we're trying to get all that needs to be accomplished by then accomplished. I feel like I could sleep for a month at this point.

Still haven't quite learned all of the 4th Act. Listen to it every chance I get in the car, and in spare moments here - the script is ever at the ready. The Laird is doing well with his lines. He's got a bit of the croup too. What a way to start rehearsals for show.

Oh yes, Mr. Vaughan did give me permission to use six of his photos, which I hope to put on here at some point in the not too distant future.

Mrs. Warren

Well I've now put the fourth act on tape and have a wee bit of it memorized. Set a goodly speech into my brain while working out on the Nordic Trak in the basement. Got all my hair chopped off a couple of days ago. Shortest I've had it since I was nine. Told the hairdresser to keep it just long enough for me to be able to put in pin curls to hold the wig into place. Now, of course I'll have to get new head shots. Sigh. Well, it was time anyway. I look in the mirror and don't know who this person is. But it sure is easier to take care of.

Been printing out more and more of the victorian photos. There's something that speaks to the muse within when gazing at them. I hope I'll have time to have imaginative play on here. Letters to Sir. George and sister Liz and Vivie. And especially letters to some of the girls in the "hotels" we run. Or more likely - descriptive writings. That's how I create an inner life for the character. If you believe - then so will the audience. If you fake it - they know it.

Mrs. Warren

I just found some more wonderful photos of the Victorians/Edwardians on the web (http://www.rogerco.freeserve.co.uk/) and have written Mr. Vaughan to see if he'll grant permission for me to use some of them here. I so love the internet. The entire world is at one's fingertips and one can discover so many delights - instantly. AND sometimes make new friends. We won't speak of the negative aspects of the spider's web.

(This is Amelia in the Ostend House. She'll pleasure a man in more ways than can be imagined! And one of the ones who really enjoys her work.)

Mrs. Warren

Well I managed to rough through the second act in the bath last night. I'm finding that's a great place to learn lines while easing the muscles from two hours of tennis. My brain is tired. And I've yet to glance at the third act, oh boy. Three weeks to the end of the month. Will I manage to get act IV under my belt before we leave? I doubt it. Too much to do. (Here's a snap of one of the girls in our Brussels House. Her name's Sarah and she's worth her weight in gold. Has a great sense of humour, this one!)

Mrs. Warren

Put the script on tape yesterday in various styles. Once through saying the cues AND my lines, then once saying just the cues. Well - not the third act, haven't gotten there yet. Am up to page50 - only 2 more to go to the end of Act II. YAY! And act III will be a piece of cake because I only have 5 lines, I think. (That's Rand's monster act.) Then back to slogging through the 4th act.

Trying to make up our minds as to whether we want to be in the third floor apts. or second. Third will be tough on my poor ankle (achilles surgery is a one-year recovery period) but we'll have no one above us tromping on our heads at odd hours. Second much easier for lugging up groceries but sleep could be a problem if there are trompers. Decisions, decisions, decisions....

Will be sending off the contracts today with a page of suggestions for script cuts. Trying to trim some of the excess verbiage. And better to do it before memorizing the rest of the script, eh? Our director told Rand he never met a cut he didn't like. (Here a photo of sister Liz before she moved down to Winchester. You can see the ladylike airs already!)

Mrs. Warren

So I've got this croup which has been hanging on since Thanksgiving and keeping my husband awake a night due to my coughing. Finally gave in and went to the doctor. They're never on time there so I brought along my script to continue memorization work. Glad I did. Got in over an hour of study before they finally saw me. A mere sinus infection. A cycline to knock it out and a suppressant/expectorant/decongestant to save me from drowning. Perhaps we'll both get some sleep tonight.

I have no compunction whatsoever about sitting in public places and babbling lines. I've no doubt people may well think I'm an absolute loon, but what of that. It used to be easier to study in waiting rooms. They used to be fairly quiet, except for the occasional screaming baby. This particular one not only had music playing from an overhead speaker in the ceiling but ALSO a large television which was blaring out some morning game show idiocy. Some multiple choice game where you try to guess the answer and then spin a dial to win money. They may think me a loon but I think them geese for watching such nonsense. Second hand smoke may offend some people - second hand noise offends me.

I stopped at the thrift shop on the way home and picked up a goody to put in my dressing room - a fake floral lei, very gaudy. I normally have a whole bunch of beads and whatnots hanging across my dressingroom mirror or dangling from light bulbs, but that's one of the boxes we've never unpacked since moving here. So....we accumulate MORE! Yesterday I picked up some opening night cards and one opening night gift. One thing I always take with me on gigs- a card that came with the flowers my mother sent me for opening night of Moon for the Misbegotten in Cincinnati. It was typed by the florist in the middle of a plain white card with their logo on the bottom, not even her handwriting. It says: "To my star in the moon. Love Ma" And it means the world to me.

(This shot is of Mary. She's rather too sweet natured for this business and often comes crying on my shoulder.)