Ask and ye shall be answered...

In response to Mom Fox's inquiries in the comments section of the previous post:

The bikes have been very enjoyable. I'm getting more comfortable with every ride. I still don't have a helmet, so I've been avoiding busy streets, but there are plenty of small not-so-busy streets around here on which I can cut my teeth.

As for Dennis' projects, 2 out of the 3 are finished: the creation of our kitchen cabinet doors and drawer fronts, and the installation of ron and jody's new ktichen countertops. The Browns' basement is still in progress.

Here are the cabinet doors he made for our kitchen remodel that will take place this Fall. I will take a picture of the Browns' project in progress and post it soon. I'm hoping he will get around to writing a couple of posts himself in the home stretch here.

Easy...Like a Sunday Morning

I love that song. The Commodores recorded some real gems.

I'm at the Browns' kitchen table, enjoying my morning coffee, and I realize something: my computer is right here. Why don't I post something on the blog? I'm not sure what I have to say, but perhaps anything is better than nothing at all.

Last night's performance was not one of the smoother evenings we've had at the Festival Stage. It was extremely hot. I sweat plenty during The Tempest even on the cooler evenings, but this was ridiculous. After every scene for the first half of the show, I had to mop off my face and hug the A/C unit for as long as I could before my next entrance.

Gnats were out in full force, and a number of them decided that it would be really really fun to wage war on my face. As the "invisible" Ariel, I have many scenes where I'm just sitting still somewhere on stage, observing the action. It would be pretty distracting if I were to be constantly swatting the little buggers away. So I attempted to remain Zen (remember the tenth commandment of outdoor theatre?), but it was tough. If they landed on my nose, prominent feature that it is, I could successfully blow them off, but I didn't know what to do when one flew into my eye. What a conundrum. If I attempted to get it out, I'd probably just smash it and kill it, and then I'd have a dead gnat in my eye, maybe the only thing worse than having a live gnat in my eye. So I let it be hoped it would depart on its own, which I think it must have because I regained full sight shortly thereafter. Just in time to get my butt off the stage right stairs and sing a magical little ditty to wake up Gonzalo before he's killed by Antonio (Dennis) and Sebastian. (Don't ask.)

After the show, we went to one of the swankier places in town--Devotay--to have tapas and wine with the visiting Equity rep, who was a lovely man. After an hour or so there, about half of us retired to one of the least swanky places in town--George's. But boy are the drinks cheap.

I must stop here. I'm meeting some of my castmates for yoga at noon. Then we're going to walk around downtown, where the annual Jazz Festival has been going on all weekend. Another Tempest tonight, and then two days off!! What a luxury!!

A Day in the Park

Both shows are up and running. Social events are piling up to fill every free afternoon and post-show minute.

Yesterday was the "intern lunch," a potluck in the park in honor of--you guessed it--the interns. I made a pesto pasta salad and guacamole (not together--ew). After the food had been consumed, many people peeled off, but a group of us stayed for hours, playing bocce ball and frisbee to our heart's content. Kevin Harris, an actor in the company, brought his wife Khara and their two small children along. Ella (2 1/2) and Dominic (15 months) set the mood for the day with their carefree playfulness.

Ella became quite taken with a mud puddle, in which she splashed her feet for quite a while, and then, immediately upon being given permission to remove her cotton sundress, she marched over to it, stood with her legs apart, and dipped her butt right in! This elicited uproarious laughter, stalling the bocce ball game for a good five minutes until we had regained control of ourselves.

Tonight is a Tempest performance, then to Devotay afterwards for drinks and tapas with the regional Equity rep, who is visiting.

A couple of birthday shout-outs

Happy Birthday, Uncle Willy!!

Happy Birthday, Erin!!

Love you both, and hope you have a great day today.

We're Trekkies! (No, not that kind...)

We are proud new owners of two matching Trek 7100 hybrid bicycles!! (Check out the consecutive serial numbers!!) Aside from different frame sizes, they are identical. Too cute, I know.




Once I get over the sheer terror of riding again for the first time since I was nine (with the exception of two brief jaunts in Point Lookout, where the town speed limit is 15 mph), it should be great fun.

John (Fox, not Williams)--if you're reading this, feel free to weigh in on our selection.

Opening Night

In ten minutes, we'll be heading to the theatre to get ready for our first performance of Twelfth Night, which starts at 8pm CST. So if you happen to read this before then (unlikely, I know), think of us tonight!


The designs for my costumes in Twelfth Night, by Lindsay Stang. Pictures of me in the real deals to come soon, I promise. They're gorgeous!

A Big Small Town Walk

I began writing this post last Tuesday. It’s now Monday. Woops. It took me until our next day off (today) to finish a post about our last day off (last Monday).

We were carless at the time. The Volvo wagon was in the shop getting a couple of minor repairs. I say "shop", but it was actually just one guy shuttling between the tiny countertop inside and the various sickly cars situated on the 80 square feet of pavement outside. There was really no telling when he would get to ours, let alone finish it. This business pace would not fare well in New York.

We spent the day at home--Dennis downstairs in the shop, sanding our new kitchen cabinets and drawer fronts, and learning lines by listening to them on his iPod; me doing what I do best--procrastinating, fretting about my procrastinating, and then finding something to do to take my mind off my procrastinating (i.e. procrastinating). I did manage to get in a little bit of work on my music for The Tempest. I also did about an hour of yoga in the Browns' spacious living room.

At about 6:15, we set out on foot to go to dinner in the downtown area of Iowa City, which, at a leisurely pace, is about a 45-minute walk. There's a nature trail through some woods and a rather large open field for the first half of the journey. This exits you into an extremely charming neighborhood that lies NE of downtown and the University of Iowa campus.

It’s an older part of town—one of the original neighborhoods—and therefore doesn’t feel like suburbia at all. There are no main roads around, so it’s very quiet, and of course it has its fair share of enormous trees. We meandered down the street, taking in the gorgeous old houses—big and small, and in various states of repair, but each captivating in its own way—and realizing just how cold the newer “developments” feel in comparison. Maybe this isn’t their fault. After all, character, much like the trees, needs time to grow. [A digression: My transplanted ten-year-old self thought the two biggest differences between Oceanside and Plano were the color of the streets (black in NY, white in TX) and the growth ceiling of trees (infinite in NY, no taller than myself in TX).]

Whether or not you can remember ever seeing a neighborhood like this in person, it is one you’ve had in your mind’s eye if you’ve ever read a novel about a small town, neighborliness, and that particular romantic lifestyle that centers around watching the shadows grow long into twilight from one’s front porch. I didn’t bring my camera along that night, or I would post a picture, which would not even begin to do it justice.

But back to the list of our voyage… Sorry, that’s Shakespeare creeping in. I’ll translate: But back to the purpose of our journey…

We landed our tired limbs at Atlas, a restaurant located on a downtown corner that boasts a rather large outdoor eating area. There aren’t too many vegetarian options on the menu, but the few they do have are very good, and they have nice cocktails and a strong wine list, and this being the only night of the week we could have a drink before 10:30pm, it seemed a good place to sate ourselves in the waning sunlight. One cocktail each, a very nice meal, and a bottle of Chardonnay later, we headed home a different way than we had come—more or less how we would drive it.

Iowa City was struck by a fierce tornado about one month before we arrived in May, and though we’d seen the hardest hit area of town from the car window many times, the impact was much more stark at this slower pace. We ambled past houses with roofs and/or walls that were completely missing and stumps of old trees that had been destroyed, and we were even more incredulous than we’d already been that there weren’t more injuries, or any deaths in the city proper. (One woman was killed outside of town when (I think) her trailer rolled over.)

The next day, the city-wide tornado siren sounded towards the beginning of our afternoon rehearsal out at the Festival Stage, and we took shelter in the dressing rooms for a while. Then, when we thought the coast was clear, we resumed rehearsal, only to be cut short by another signal and concurrent downpour. At this point, Mark Hunter, who is directing The Tempest, called rehearsal. I had been dropped off at rehearsal by Dennis, who was back at home, and a couple of fellow cast members didn’t have cars either, so our director drove three of us over to the indoor theatre space downtown so we could take shelter in the basement. It was kind of fun, once we were down there and safe. Once the storm had passed, we all walked to have dinner together and then to the park for evening rehearsal. It was good bonding time.

Speaking of weather, it was cold here yesterday and the day before! Cold! Can you believe it?! It’s June!!!! We were all huddled in sweatshirts and fleeces during rehearsal. It feels just plain wrong to be shivering during a rehearsal for a Summer Shakespeare Festival.

Today, sunshine returned, and the high was probably in the mid-70s. It’s supposed to be back up to 90 by the end of the week. We’ve had our car back for a few days, so no long walk to dinner tonight.

What a shame.

The (Great?) Outdoors

Last night we had our first rehearsal out at the Festival Stage in the park. There's no turning back now.

The Ten Commandments of Outdoor Rehearsal:

I.
Thou shalt honor thy Coppertone and DEET.
II.
Thou shalt drink thy coffee iced.
III.
Thou shalt not hug nor kiss thy husband between the first of his many applications of OFF! and his mandatory post-evening-rehearsal shower.
IV.
Thou shalt check thy paper water cup for bugs before refilling at the cooler.
V.
Thou shalt not wear shoes which blister thy foot in humidity.
VI.
Thou shalt view thy many layers of costume not as an enemy to thy body temperature but as the first line of defense in the bug war.
VII.
Thou shalt carry a travel-sized deodorant in thy back pocket at all times.
VIII.
Thou shalt project to the back row.
IX.
Thou shalt first nudge the toilet paper roll in the bathroom backstage with thy knee, so as to exit any critters which may be hidden therein.
X.
Thou shalt remain in character even though there is a moth/beetle/wasp roughly the size of a Mazda Miata climbing up thy leg/back/neck.

A day off...

This is Mama, one of the Browns' three cats, conked out in the living room.






Anyone reading this most likely has the day off because it's Memorial Day. I, however, have the day off because it's Monday. That's our Actors' Equity-required day off from rehearsal every week. So far, the only way in which it feels like a day off, though, is that I'm doing all my work at home as opposed to the theatre or the local coffee hangout--The Java House. I'm still working on that Columbia project I brought with me (my day job haunts me even across 1,000 miles--amazing), I've got two relatively large parts to get off-book on (memorized, for the lay people) relatively soon, I have to finish editing the second draft of my hubby's fabulous screenplay, and on and on...



That's the deck where I was situated when I began this post. The heat and the bugs drove me back inside the house in record time--less than ten minutes, I'd say--but it's a nice place to take my morning coffee and the paper because it's obviously cooler earlier in the day.

Dennis is downstairs preparing for a renovation project he's taken on for our hosts this summer. Here's a "before" picture:



It's the far end of a very large master bedroom that's in the "basement" of the house. It's not really a basement, because the house is situated on a hill (sloping downward from the street), so when you walk in and down the stairs, the master bedroom looks out onto their rather lovely backyard, which leads down to a little creek. Anyway, they're installing a fireplace in the center of the wall Dennis is working on in the picture, surrounded by floor-to-ceiling built-in bookshelves. (Victoria and Jim are both academics, so there's no shortage of books around here.) I'll post an "after" picture when he's finished.

We're having dinner tonight at the home of Bruce Wheaton (one of the three original founders of Riverside Theatre 25 years ago) and his wife Erin. He was around quite a bit last summer because one of the shows we did was his adaptation of Moliere's The Imaginary Invaild. He also wrote the play that Dennis will be returning here to work on in August, which is about a local football legend, Nile Kinnick, who was killed in WWII.

It's hard not to have a good time with Erin and Bruce--they're fun-loving, well-rounded, good-hearted people (enough hyphens for you?). Plus, they really know how to cook, and they're whipping up some chile rellenos for us tonight, which is one of Dennis' favorite meals. Should be fun. We'll be leaving here in less than 3 hours, so I'm off to drill some lines.

All right, so I'm not off to the best start here. My only excuse for the lack of posting thus far is that for the first time, I've brought part of my day job with me to Iowa. It's just one big project that I'm trying to get out of the way as soon as possible, so I've been devoting much of my time in the mornings to finishing that.

Also, the first few days of rehearsal are devoted to tablework (a misnomer, as there is no table involved), for which the whole cast is called for the whole time. We sit in a large circle of chairs and read through the play, stopping frequently to discuss any issues raised along the way. This runs the gamut from the very straightforward, such as verifying the pronunciation of obscure or difficult words and proper names, to the meatier issues of motivation and relationships.

Today, Day 4, we will get on our feet for the first time and begin a rough-blocking process. Now that tablework is over, the call is more broken down, so you have a little more time off for a while.

I have my first costume fitting today. Twelfth Night is being set in the 1890s, and the renderings for my dresses (by longtime Festival costume designer Lindsay Stang) are beautiful. Olivia begins the play in mourning for her brother and father, who died within months of each other less than a year before the action of the play begins. So I am veiled and wearing all black for my first scene, as is necessitated by the text. Once I fall for Cesario (the disguised Viola), however, I break out in color. When I next appear, and for the rest of the play, I am in the full bloom of love and decked out, accordingly, in pink! In The Tempest, I am not human but a sprite, Ariel, and I will hold off on describing the costumes until I can provide visual aides.

Third Time's a Charm

Well, here we are again in this charming little burg, Iowa City, for a third summer in the employ of the Riverside Theatre Shakespeare Festival (heretofore to be known as RTSF). Dennis and I crossed over the George Washington Bridge in upper Manhattan on Saturday at about noon, drove our black Volvo 850 wagon 999 miles west on I-80 and arrived at the Browns' residence, our home away from home, on Sunday evening around 5pm. This left enough time to greet our friends and hosts Jim and Victoria, unload the car and pick up some Chinese food to bring home for the watching of the final episode of our favorite TV series (okay, so it's the only one we watch, but it's great anyway), The West Wing.

No time to write more now. We haven't done a grocery shop yet, so we have to go eat something before our first rehearsal begins at 1:00. There will be a general welcome and passing-on of handy information (I think Dennis and I have memorized this by now: intros - tell us who you are, where you're from and what parts you're playing; here are some discounts available at local establishments; don't forget to e-mail bios if you haven't already; here's your rehearsal hotline wallet card - don't forget to call every day in case of last-minute changes!; etc.). This is followed by the first read-through of Twelfth Night (Dennis is Malvolio; I am Olivia), then a dinner break from 5:30-7, after which we will have a design presentation by the designers (who else?) and then the first read-through of The Tempest (Dennis is Antonio; I am Ariel).

I am looking forward to it. First reads are always fun. Plus, there will be many new faces in the company this year, and I'm anxious to meet everyone.

More soon...

lfw

The Tables To Date

I think now's the time to catch all you woodworkers up with the progress of the tables. Sandwiched as it should be in the posting of the events of the last few days in Iowa, the completion of the tables, sans stain & finish, was barely accomplished in time to pack them away in the Volvo wagon. Here I am in the early stages, bent over the table saw doing something very technical of which I have no memory.

As you may recall, I purchased the raw lumber in various sizes. I then brought it back to the shop where I marked it up into the various pieces I would need, paying attention to the grain and figure of the wood, selecting the nice bits for the drawer fronts and the nasty bits for the back etc. Also avoiding knots and other ugly little splotches. Once things had been marked up I loaded the lot back into the car and drove them across town to a big commercial woodshop. The only step I couldn't complete in Jim's woodshop was the planing of the boards to the various thickness. The legs would be cut from the thick boards on the table saw, the others boards needed to be 7/8" or 3/4" or 1/2" depending on the piece they would become. The guy charged me $7 to run my lumber through his planer. Have I mentioned how much Iowa can grow on a man?

Anyway, long story short, the tables have tapered legs (the tapers were cut on the table saw with the help of a jig I put together) a top and shelf, and a single drawer. The top and shelf are constructed of a piece of solid wood "framed" by two inch pieces cut at 45 degrees at the corners. The pieces were then biscuit joined at the edges and sanded flat. The drawer sides are 1/2" white oak (as is the back) and are joined with hand cut dovetails. Half blind dovetails where the sides join the front, and through dovetails where the back and sides meet. The sides and back are joined to the legs with mortise and tenon joints and the legs are notched to accept the corners of the shelf. The whole table is glued up at once minus the top. The only hardware used are four small 'L' brackets to secure the top to the base, and two screws that fasten the drawer bottom in place. The rest is old fashioned joinery and glue.


So here they are standing in the Brown's living room. Remember no stain or finish yet! The tapered legs are obvious as is the single drawer construction. And here is the drawer opened! Yes indeed, ladies and gentlemen! Moving parts! White oak as you may notice is a much different wood than it's cousin, red oak. Red Oak is familiar to us all as it is used in many houses for flooring, stair rails, cabinets, etc. When someone says, "oak trim throughout" they are most definately talking about red oak. White has these great "rays" and a tighter figure and is used for furniture more often than not.

Here are some shots of the real challange in the construction of these little buggers. Dovetails are the traditional joinery for drawers. Next time you are antique hunting be sure to open the drawers and look at the sides! There are all kinds of ways to cut these pesky little critters. Some folks use the table saw, some a router and fancy jig, some even the band saw! I was convinced by some purist enthusiast contributer to Fine Woodworking magazine that you should learn to cut dovetails by hand before giving in to the time saving methods of today. So OK! I DID IT, SO LEAVE ME ALONE FOR PITY'S SAKE!
Sorry, lost it there for just a sec. At any rate, they are built and are sitting in our bedroom where they belong waiting for the day (about three weeks away I'm afraid) when they will be stained, finished and a drawer pull will be added. A picture of the final look will be forthcoming. My last two weeks in Iowa were less relaxing than they could have been. I had to forego water skiing and other lakeside activities but I have two tables! For those who would ask, "was it worth it?" I simply say...


please let me out of here...please?...I'm on my knees...please?...p.l.e.a.s.e...

Rewinding a little.....

In his haste to recap our time in Chicago, my better half skipped ahead chronologically a bit, which is fine. It just means that this post will rewind to our last days in I.C., which, as proven by the dearth of blogging going on, were jam-packed. We had our final performances of course, but also a closing party (replete with a synchronized swimming performance), an awards ceremony on the eve of closing, and a party which I co-hosted with the actress who played my sister in 'Shrew' and my stepdaughter in 'Invalid.' I was also under the wire to finish making my company gifts, which proved to be more time-consuming than I planned (what else is new). In addition to all of these company-related activities, my Mom was visiting! So we had all kinds of daytime fun as well.... where to begin?!?! ....

Mom's flight was delayed considerably on Thursday. She was supposed to land at noon and wound up getting in closer to 3. Unfortunately, Dennis and I had a 3:30 brush-up rehearsal for 'Invalid,' so we pretty much brought Mom to the Browns', showed her where her room was, introduced her to Victoria and then high-tailed it to the Festival Stage for a hot and humid rehearsal. Later, since none of our eating schedules were aligned, Victoria offered to share the dinner she was making with Mom, and as Dennis and I left for the theatre, the two were sitting at the dinner table eating and chatting away getting to know each other. Victoria was going to drop Mom at the theatre closer to showtime, so she wouldn't have to wait around in the heat for an hour beforehand.

So Mom saw 'Invalid' that night, and she reacted in much the same as Bob and Colleen: "It was just silly." A completely understandable response--the show was not everyone's cup of tea. Here's Dennis and I as Beralde and Beline, respectively, in the very silly 'The Imaginary Invalid':




One day--I think it was Friday--Dennis needed some time to finish up his gorgeous side tables, and I took Mom to 'downtown' (!) Iowa City for some browsing in the Artisans' Gallery (where you can buy all kinds of art, jewelry and craft items made by local artists). We walked all around the ped mall and then stopped in at the ever-popular Java House for a refreshing beverage before hopping in the car and heading to the mall in nearby Coralville to tackle the always-enjoyable task of shopping for a bathing suit! AHHHHHH!!!! I'll spare you the details, but we did leave victorious with a very cute suit that I wouldn't have even tried on if it hadn't been for my trusty mom! (No, there will be no pictures of me in said bathing suit, thank you very much.)

On Saturday, we made a little day trip to Mount Vernon, Iowa, home to Cornell College. No, not my and my father's alma mater Cornell University, but Cornell COLLEGE, which has about 1/10 of the student population but does have the prior claim on the name, believe it or not. This is also the college where our host Jim Brown was on faculty for many years, and now works as assistant to the President. We had a scrumptious brunch at the famous Lincoln Cafe before taking a long walk around the campus. (Too long, actually. It was quite hot that day, and we Williams women were getting blisters by the end of it and sent poor Dennis ahead to get the car and pick us up, which, being a rather chivalrous chap, he was happy to do.) Here are some pics from that day:





And I'm going to stop there for now because I have to go curl up in our freezer for a while. In my next post, more on the closing party, the 1st Annual Riverdog Awards ceremony, and pictures from 'Taming of the Shrew'.....

Chicago Wanderings

Travel Updates

As you dear readers can see from our last few entries, blogs are really only private squabbles made public. Well, I’ll toe the line and keep the political ruminations to a minimum. Here’s my Chicago blow by blow followed by Leigh’s Stratford update.

Leigh and I dropped Penny off at the airport near Cedar Rapids around 3:30 pm Monday, July 11th, after a final meal at the Hamburg Inn and the requisite tee shirt purchase. We then doubled back, passed Iowa City and headed east. An uneventful four hours later we parked in front of 1716 Grace Street, a few blocks north of Addison and a few blocks west of Clark Street in the West Lakeview neighborhood of Chicago Illinois.

Wendi W., the long time company member of Riverside Shakespeare Festival who had decided to stay in Chicago this summer, thereby opening up an Equity spot for Leigh to occupy, met us at the door. She brought us upstairs to her neighbor’s apartment, which they had generously offered for use while they we’re out of town. It was a large, well-decorated one bedroom, which was much more comfortable than the pull out couch we had anticipated. We all walked to a nearby restaurant and had a late dinner and then back to the apartment and to bed.

The next morning we set off on foot in the direction of my old neighborhood near Belmont Street and Halsted. I had lived there the year I worked for the Lyric Opera of Chicago and Ballet Chicago, which was my last year Stage Managing before entering Grad School for acting. We went south to Addison and then headed east, and before long the shadow of Wrigley Field engulfed us. I showed Leigh where the brownstone of the then tech director for the Goodman Theatre was located. Since the days when I was in Chicago they have built huge bleacher type structures on top of these poor brownstones and are probably selling tickets in competition with the Cubs owners. A decade and a half ago there was a grill, astro-turf, and a bunch of lawn chairs up on the various roofs, and all you needed to get up there was to know a tenant. Ah, the innocent days of bygone enthusiasms.

We kept heading west on Addison to Halstead and then turned south. I lived on a one-block street that runs parallel to Halstead named Elaine Place. My roommate, Ken B. was an assistant director who went to LA directly after and ended up writing for the Star Trek Next Generation series. Elaine Place has two large sculptures at the south end of the street. They are twenty-five foot tall giraffe’s made out of car bumpers welded together. On several occasions after opening night parties one of us would find our way up the giraffe’s sloping hindquarters and sit triumphantly on its back. We were younger then.

Leigh was having trouble with the camera battery so we have a shot of the building I was in but none of the Giraffes. But they’re there, believe me. Why would I lie about a thing like that? We continued south on Halstead and then West on Belmont where we landed for breakfast at a place now called Clarks. It was the Belmont Diner way back when. It’s situated right next to the Belmont stoop on the Ell train. Leigh fell in love with my Swedish pancakes but eschewed the boysenberries they came with. After being defeated by the large portions they apparently are famous for, we (I almost said hopped) waddled onto the brown line heading toward the loop.

Downtown Chicago was vibrant on this overcast summer workday. We headed to the building where the Lyric Opera is housed on Wacker Drive by the river. After walking around the surrounding blocks and over the river a couple of times we went into the building and up to the eighth floor to the Opera’s offices. The receptionist told us that the technical director, Drew L. was away until the end of the month. They are off-season in the late spring and early summer. He is the only person I can remember who was still on staff. I left him a voice message and away we went.

We met up with Jenny the stagemanager from Iowa and headed to Millennium Park, which is spectacular. A huge amphitheatre dominates the parks design. Central park would be greatly enhanced with something along these lines. It would certainly make the concerts on the great lawn more pleasant and acoustically satisfying. We ended our tour by walking up Michigan Avenue’s miracle mile, which is a cross between the size of New Yorks Park Ave and the shopping on Madison.

The night was taken up with dinner with our fellow company member Pauli and his girl Kim at a Japanese place called Y2K and then home. The next morning would require an early start and about eight hours of driving, which would land us in St. Mary’s Ontario, a few miles down the road from Stratford and its legendary Shakespeare festival.

DF

NO POLITICS IN THIS POST (but a small amount of waxing nostalgic)

I just read my hubby's diatribe, and I apologize on his behalf. He'll just have to go make his own blog where he can rant and rave about whatever he pleases, but as of now, I officially reclaim the essence of this blog, which is to rave about my gorgeous fiancee Katie, offer sage advice on women's health issues, and spread the doctrine of Scientology.

So sorry--Tom Cruise just tried to steal my computer (and blog), but I sent him packing.

Well, this is it. Our last performance of the season is tonight. There will be an extravagant closing party immediately afterwards, and then tomorrow morning we wake up, pack up, drive Mom to the airport, and head to the Windy City for a couple of days. Then it's to Stratford for 2 nights, where we'll be seeing 'As You Like It' at the famous Shakespeare Festival there Thursday night, and then home to 70 Haven Avenue sometime on Saturday. Then we'll be seeing some of you who may be reading this on Sunday in Point Lookout, Long Island. Ah, to see the ocean again! That's easily the worst thing (among many I guess) about the geography of Iowa--no beach!!!! WHAT'S SUMMER WITHOUT TRIPS TO THE BEACH?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!??!!?

It's always sad to end a run, especially when you feel a show hasn't had sufficient time to fulfill its potential. But that's just part of the theatre life. It sometimes feels like it's all beginnings and endings... but then you reflect on the process that occurred in the interim, and realize that the goodbyes, though bittersweet--after the creative collaboration, and all of the friends made; skills strengthened, or learned; weaknesses revealed, or overcome; anecdotes gathered; memories born, and tales woven under the stars--are more than worth it after the last bows are taken and you get to bring it all with you for the next beginning.

Common Sense

It’s Friday morning as I start this addition to our blog. After a couple of hours in the woodshop this morning I left Leigh and Penny in their jammys in the kitchen and Ben N. and I rode off in his Mazda pick-up for the links. Now it’s been a couple of years since I took the sticks out and, not owning a set myself, I was borrowing some clubs while here in Iowa. After talking about the outing for weeks, we finally got off our keesters and booked a tee time. Let me just say that my first three holes were spectacular. Clean straight drive shots down the fairway. My mid game of iron shots and the pitch to the green (my nemeses), were even in decent shape. And the putting was superb. Ben was worried. It was at about the fifth hole that the tide turned. Call it fatigue (which gives you a good indication of my current fitness level), but at that point, the wheels started falling off the cart. Michelle Wie and I were suffering similar fates. It was the sand trap in the sixth hole that sealed my fate with a triple bogey and from then on the spine of my game was snapped. But it was fun driving the cart and the sun was out and all in all it was a great day spent on the front nine.

The tables are nearly done. I’m on the horns of a dilemma however, about what to do with the edge of the table’s top. I could leave it square. I could cut a taper into it or I could route a rounded or ogee edge into it. Hmmmm. Other than that, all that’s needed is sanding and a drawer stop. I am going to stain and put the finish on in New York as I’m running out of time and I have the stain for the bedroom back home.

I was at the grocery store buying a few things to tide us over our last weekend, and while standing in front of a large case of ice cream in the frozen food section, I heard what can only be described as quintessential Iowan common-sense. “See honey, you got yourself these down here”, said the slightly younger of the two middle aged broad shouldered, wide hipped shoppers. “Um hum, that looks good”, said the elder. “But honey, all this up here is ‘light’ and everything they make that’s light just isn’t gonna taste as good.”

A smile crossed my lips as I enjoyed the sturdy logic that is part and parcel of that mid-western rural character. But then, unable to leave well enough alone, I slipped into resentfulness. Why are the minds at work here at the Iowa City Hi-Vee the same minds that wield a disproportionate control over the selection of our national leaders? The New York subway system moves the entire population of Iowa State to work and back on a daily basis. The 2.9 million folks who live here spread out on 2000 square miles to the tune of 52 persons per square mile are dwarfed by the 19 million that occupy the same area in New York State at a density of 401 persons per square mile. Why do we give these 52 folks, most of whom live on gravel roads, such sway? The local Iowa City diner, the Hamburg Inn has its walls laden with pictures of every major national political figure in the last 20 years. Presidents have eaten here. I doubt if our local diner, Reme’s on 170th Street and Broadway, has ever seen a candidate for anything greater than district council. Why should I trust those 52 Iowans to make an informed decision about who will win the primary party race anymore than the 401 New Yorkers? Leaving aside questions of informed or uninformed, engaged or not engaged, why should the 52 speak so much louder than the 401?
Ron Clark, one of the artistic directors here at Riverside is a native Iowan as you all know, coming from Columbus Junction, the small town we documented earlier. He wears his States privileged position in American politics proudly and with the presumption of the high born. To him it only makes sense that his family and his neighbors and fellow statesmen (93.9% white folks) are given this position of influence. What could be more natural? Can’t leave these things up to city dwellers.
I think we can. I think we should.

I breathed deeply, opened the case and reached for a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Gobfather ice cream. After paying (no line) I hopped in the car for the short ride home thankful that there is never traffic in Iowa.

DF.

Me again

It’s probably becoming quite clear that getting me to sit down in front of my computer and put together a couple of ideas to share with you faithful bloggers is not an easy row to hoe. It’s not that I don’t have things to say or tid-bits to share, it’s just that other activities call to me louder than writing. I’m determined to do what I can to change that. But change, as we all well know, is an undertaking that usually moves at a glacial pace.

Said goodbye to the folks today. Sent my dad packing with a Riverside tee shirt to wear next time he is in Ashland for the Oregon Shakespeare Festival. He had the brazen audacity to wear an OSF tee shirt down here! Let’s forget for a moment that Oregon has an operating budget that dwarfs our little operation. Let’s also set aside the long contracts (10 months, some of them) and the cushy salaries offered there. Let’s instead focus on the absurdity of a seeming rivalry between RSF and OSF. It’s a bit like Grinnell College, which is west of here by an hour, putting eleven of its best on a bus with a big banner saying, “Watch Out Notre Dame, We’re Iowa Tough!”

I took a huge hit this week by losing one of my best party facts. Up until last Friday night, July 1st, 2005, I was able to claim that my father hadn’t seen me on stage since 1980. This would invariably bring gasps of horror to the lips of those listening, and sympathetic stares, until I reassured them that we weren’t estranged nor was there some dark reason behind it all, but it was simply a function of having moved away from Seattle in ’84 and having done all my acting a substantial distance away from there. But it was a hell of a good ruse and I’ll miss it.

My mother has made it clear in no uncertain terms that she is not a fan of the headshot that I have recently switched to. It is to be found in the program of the festival here and is the one I am sending out with my resume’ these days. So I am suggesting you visit…

http://www.denisewinters.com/01%20Headshots/Headshots-01.html

…which will help put into context my headshot. You will also find a picture of someone else you are very familiar with. Please note that we are haphazardly interspersed with some MAJOR stars! The question becomes what is it about this headshot that leaves my mother cold. Perhaps it’s because I look mean. But I am mean! Perhaps it’s because it doesn’t resemble the toe-headed boy of four who, upon arrival of my brother David, went out into the street in front of the house we lived in and laid down on the hot macadam. And when my mother screamed, “Dennis, what are you doing!” a plaintive voice called back, “it’s alright mother, you have David, you don’t need me anymore.” That could very well be the closest I’ll get to an academy award winning performance.

Tomorrow is a table day, and the mother-in-law comes the next day. Penny is such a delight but it’s so fun to say mother-in-law that I can’t help myself. For now I sign off and hope all are well.

Independence Day and Sour Krauts

Happy 4th, ye blogge faithfulle, who haven't given up on us even though we've been slacking for the last couple of days.

It's a rainy day here in Iowa City, and we're pursuing independent projects for a while this afternoon. Bob is in the kitchen watching the Yankees pile up runs against the Orioles in the bottom of the 1st. (This after proclaiming that he'd be "happy to watch the Yankees lose" when we were choosing which of three MLB games to watch. He might have to change the station pretty soon.) Colleen is on a couch in the living room with a book. Dennis is in our little office/den with me trying to print something out from his computer, while I sit at this desk typing away in our little blog. He will soon be escaping to the shop, though, to immerse himself in building the drawers for our nightstands. At around 5, we will be heading to a big 4th of July soiree at the home of one of our directors this season, Mark Hunter. (More on that event in tomorrow's entry.)

Yesterday we visited the Amana Colonies, a cluster of Mennonite communities about 20 miles west of Iowa City. They offer lovely buffet-style champagne brunches in a few of their many restaurants, plus bakeries, wineries, museums, and a plethora of crafts shops and antiques stores. Unfortunately, the heavens opened as we drove out there, and we wound up arriving in the rain. By the time we found a restaurant that offered anything Dennis and I could eat and sat for a leisurely and indulgent breakfast of omelettes, pastries, biscuits, rhubarb pie, and whatever else you can imagine, the weather had cleared, and we enjoyed a nice walk through the area where there was the most shopping to be had.

(An anecdote mainly for my father's sake: We brunched at "Zuber's Restaurant," named for Bill Zuber, a local kid turned New York Yankee. The front lounge in the place is nicknamed 'the dugout,' and boasts some pictures of Zuber in his heyday and a few copies of a Zuber biography for sale.)

In one store, Colleen and Bob saw a little plaque that read something like: "What do you call a cranky German? A sour kraut." A few shops later, Colleen ran into one of these sour krauts, when she inquired of a woman behind the counter, "Do you have any books for children that tell the history of the Amish?" and was sharply remanded: "FIRST of all, this is a GERMAN community..." and so on. Only later did Colleen realize that she should have invoked the 'sour kraut' joke in response to this meany.




At some point in the writing of this post, 3 of the 4 of us convened in the kitchen, where I am now typing at the table, Colleen is writing postcards home across from me, and Bob has indeed changed the channel, so we are now watching the Mets face the Nationals in D.C.

Hope everyone has a nice day off/fireworks/BBQ or whatever else you might be doing this 4th!

The Foxes Come to Iowa!

Yesterday at 8:45am, Dennis and I drove to Eastern Iowa Airport in Cedar Rapids to pick up Ma and Pa Fox. Our hosts, the Browns, happened to be departing for Vermont for the weekend from the very same airport about 30 minutes after the Foxes' plane was due to arrive. So we left the house at about the same time, in our two separate cars, and the Browns had the chance to meet the Foxes, if only for a few minutes.

Upon returning to Iowa City, we ate a nice breakfast at Lou Henri's, a local fave, and then spent much of the day resting, as Colleen and Bob had spent the entire night on planes and in airports, and Dennis and I had risen considerably earlier than we've been accustomed to on our skewed theatre schedule.

So the two of them saw 'Shrew' last night, and then we had an incredibly fancy late dinner of pizza and red wine. Bob Fox, who has attended many productions of Shakespeare's plays at Ashland Shakes in Oregon, boldly stated that this was the first time he understood and enjoyed the Bard. We'll take that compliment!

We spent most of the day today exploring downtown Iowa City, breakfasting at the famous Hamburg Inn No. 2, visiting the equally famous indie bookstore Prairie Lights, and checking out the various goings-on of the annual Jazz Festival, which is taking place all weekend.

Tonight, the Foxes will be in attendance at 'The Imaginary Invalid.' We'll post the verdict on that one tomorrow...

Show & Tell Time

Dennis is a sneaky little bugger. He added that last post after I had retired to the bedroom last night.

The pictures I managed to snap of the collage before wrapping it up for Ron & Jody are not very accurate, and I'll try my best to explain how.


This one was taken without the flash, and I think it better represents the overall feel of the collage--meant to have an aged look, like a page of an old photograph album. You can't really tell from this, but each of the images is raised up about an 1/8-inch from the surface of the support, and the quotation is raised up about 1/4-inch. Oh, and since you can't read it, it's from Measure for Measure (one of the plays we did last summer), and it reads: "Our doubts are traitors/And makes us lose the good we oft might win/By fearing to attempt." If you look closely, you can see the shadows cast by the raised images--mostly on the bottom edges, as the sole light source is coming from a ceiling fixture. Also, disregard the reflection in the frame of the slatted closet doors on the opposite wall, mostly discernable in the top and left edges of the border.


This one, taken with the flash, flattens the whole thing out and makes the background look neon green, which is unfortunate. You also completely lose the texture of the background, which was created by applying layers of torn collage paper (washi) that had been saturated with diluted watercolor. The texture is subtle, so as not to take focus from the main event--the photos--but still, it's nicer than having a completely flat backdrop. Dennis manipulated the store-bought 16X20 frame in order to allow the collage to sit deeper than the flat images for which it was intended. He removed the brackets it came with, lined the edges of the frame with strips of black foam core of a uniform width and then secured the backing behind the collage with glazier's points all the way around. Such a handy fellow...

Speaking of which, onward and upward to Dennis' fine woodworking. His first foray into the world of furniture-making was prompted by our desperate need for a couple of night tables in our bedroom at home. One of our current stand-ins is a stack of those clear bins you buy for storing out-of-season clothes or photographs, which sticks out like a sore thumb in our elegantly renovated beaudoir. Our new white-oak bedside tables are coming along beautifully. These pictures were taken just moments ago (ain't technology grand!) after I delivered a freshly-brewed cup of coffee to my hard-working man.


The proud woodworker posing with a side of one of the tables (Notice the fancy-schmancy tapered legs!)


Adjusting the fence on the table saw to trim the shelves that will be placed halfway down the legs between the drawer and the floor

And there you have it--a thorough update on our creative activities (outside of rehearsing and performing our two shows this summer.)

An egregious omission

Ok, now that I have the hang of it and now that I’ve caught up with what my dear wife has posted I have to add something she has curiously left out. On the evening she describes with our friends Ron and Jody, when back at their place, Leigh presented them with a collage that she had put probably 400 hours into. It was a wonderful piece that incorporated images from the 2004 season along with all sorts of collage effects and framed. It’s beautiful and we will post a picture of the piece for all to see. My dream of a woodshop in the country on my own 10 acres has been now expanded to include a woodshop with an adjacent workspace with sliding glass doors and lots of light and large work tables and storage for paper and supplies and a coffee maker and Leigh, in comfy pants, sitting on a stool, and music.

DF

My first post EVER!

Hi folks. I’m going to get started here by stating that prior to Leigh coming up with this notion to blog, I had begun what I thought would be a good writing exercise for me. It was inspired by reading (as part of my research for Shrew) a chapter in a book that was a compilation of essays written by actors on the process they went through for a particular role. So, I thought to myself, “why not?” and set out to write an article about how I approached the character of Petruchio. Those who are patient may see it posted in it’s entirety on this very blog.
In the mean time let me tell you that after opening both shows last weekend I turned my attention to a project that I had planned to do here in Iowa City. You see, the guy’s house we stay at when in Iowa has a small but perfectly adequate wood shop in his basement. It occurred to me that I would have some daytime hours at my disposal and we are in desperate need of two bedside tables back home. So Monday morning I went off in search of some white oak. I had done a little scouting in advance and went first to Hills Hardwood at the very eastern end of town. Thinking that a place like this would open at the crack of dawn I showed up at 8:15 but it was closed so I went to the Java House (best coffee in town), got a Steam Boat Bill to-go, and headed back. At 9:00 I walked into an immense warehouse staffed by two. One seemed to be the owner and the other a helper. I declared the species of wood I was interested in and was shown the various locations, each displaying a particular thickness. The thinnest was “four quarter”, otherwise known as one inch, and the thickest was “eight quarter”, you do the math. I bought 5 boards of four quarter, all various widths and lengths, and one 8’ board of eight quarter.
When I went to pay for the wood I reached for a credit card only to be told that they don’t take credit cards. I hemmed and hawed as I had very little cash and no check book with me and was making preparations to leave, get some cash and return. But the owner reached into his desk drawer, removed an envelope, affixed an address label and a STAMP and handed it to me along with my copy of the bill. “Send me a check” he said as he took his copy of the bill and pinned it to the wall next to a couple of dozen other receipts, “that’s my credit card system”. So off I went with $120 worth of white oak on a promise that I would send him a check. You’re not in NYC anymore Toto, welcome to Iowa.
More on the tables later. Pictures to follow.

DF.

Just a sickie...

...looking for something to do that does not require any physical energy. Hence, a new post for the blog! Lucky you!

I slept for two and a half hours after that last post. Then I hopped in the car and drove down to the Festival Stage to catch the end of the 'Shrew' understudy rehearsal. As I imbibed my 'Energy' Vitamin Water (didn't work--what a scam) in the last row of the theater, I watched the understudies stumble through the last few scenes of the show. I was told by a fellow company member that I "missed them in their prime," which I thoroughly believe, as that's how understudy rehearsals tend to go. Not many people start to learn a part from the end of the play and work towards the beginning. So, naturally, the first few scenes are flawless (at least lines-wise), the next few a little rougher, the third quarter even rougher, and then for the last couple of scenes, everyone's just kind of standing around reading from their scripts and not caring all that much if they are Down Right when they're supposed to be Up Center.

I exaggerate slightly for comedic purposes, of course. And actually, my understudy for Katherine (who plays my sister, Bianca) had that monstrously long final speech down pretty well.

Now for a couple of completely out-of-chronological pictures... These are mostly for my dad and brother's sakes. The Riverside Theatre Shakespeare Festival company (that's us) played the Iowa City Summer Rep crew in a game of softball about a week ago--my first return to the diamond since about 1988. Dennis copped out and watched part of the game and then went off and ran his lines for 'Shrew,' which we were to open in a few days. So it was understandable. He has about 4 times as many lines as I do, so he wasn't feeling as leisurely as I was on our day off! Sadly, Summer Rep beat us, but not after a good fight--the final score was something like 17-16.

Hopefully Dennis will soon have time to regale you with all kinds of anecdotes about his current woodworking project. In the meantime, I'll try to get some pictures of him at work.


Here's when I flied out (flew out? popped out? pop-flied-out????) in the first.


Dennis (sporting his summer goatee) watching from the shade. He's with Marc Moritz (from our company), who wasn't playing either, but who did step in as a pinch hitter for us in the 9th and got on base to boot.


They had me playing left field until they realized my bounteous fielding skills and put me at 2nd.... Okay, okay, so they were just running short on people. Still, I made a few outs... =)

Columbus Junction

As promised, here are some shots from our evening in Columbus Junction. The Swinging Bridge was true to its name, especially when Ron and Jody started to shake it wildly from side to side when we were about halfway across. Not very nice!! Sadly, there's much graffiti on the bridge at this point. Most of it appears to be the work of local high school kids, and it tended to fall into two categories: vows of undying love or vicious character slurs. Apparently, "Tony R." is a #&!*%#@ jerk, and "Sarah S." is the hottest girl in school. Who knew? So it was educational as well as terrifying. What more can you ask?

Joking aside, we had a very nice evening. The Mexican restaurant made up for what it lacked in lighting design and atmosphere by offering very tasty margaritas and chile rellenos, not to mention gobs of character. Our waitress looked like she was about 15, and she was immensely shy. Every time we ordered something, she would get this look of quiet panic and inform us that they might be out of it (this included margaritas, guacamole, a kind of beer jody wanted, and on and on...). She would look at us so helplessly that we wound up comforting her, as if to reassure her that it would be just dandy if all she could offer us was some rice and Diet Sprite. Of course they wound up having plenty of everything--with the exception of one of the margarita ingredients, as she could only eke out 3, falling one short of the number requested.

Of course, in a town as small as Columbus Junction, we weren't going to avoid running into someone who knew Ron. So we sat down in this tiny little restaurant and who should be sitting at the next table but Ron's high school prom date. They've remained friends and see each other often, so it wasn't a huge surprise or anything, but it certainly added to the charm of the hometown visit.

After the meal, we drove back to Iowa City through a classic Midwestern thunderstorm and saw some incredible lightning. Then we wrapped up the evening with more conversation and dessert on Ron and Jody's screened-in porch. Quite nice.

Unfortunately, I've caught the bug that Dennis had last week, and so am off to nap...again. My throat is incredibly sore, and we've got a show tonight, so I've been downing all kinds of special herbal tea remedies, plus zinc, advil, vitamin c, you name it.

Dennis is in the shop today building a couple of bedside tables for us, but more on that later.....