He's the god of wine, I'm the goddess of whining

I missed my Mondays on the Margins post because I'm not quite finished the parenting book I want to review (although I can tell you that I was reading it at softball and Eve came over to switch her hat for a batting helmet and said "are you seriously sitting here reading a parenting book? You're just embarrassing yourself".) Also, Pam and I took the van for an oil change in the morning, then went to Ogdensburg New York to pick up a package at the UPS store. Then I came home, made dinner for Eve and Matt, sent Matt off to baseball (without Angus, who's on a three-day class trip to some camp) and went downtown to meet some of my book club at Darcy McGee's and then see Hawksley Workman perform The God That Comes, because 1) my friend Debbie teaches writing and drama and was so sweetly enthusiastic about it that we all sort of fell in line and 2) any time I get a chance to go to the NAC with ANYONE else, I tend to jump at it. Except for the symphony, my husband will always go to the symphony with me, but here's the thing, I sort of hate the symphony. I like classical music, but I like it to be playing while I'm doing stuff, like folding the laundry or doing dishes or reading or something. When we're just sitting there watching people play classical music, I start looking at their hair, and their shoes, and wondering if the first violinist has ever done it with the second trombonist, and if the oboist was cheesed off about it, and then I realize I haven't heard the last sixteen bars and I wonder why I paid all this money for something I can't even focus on and I wish I had some dishes to do.

So. Yeah.

I didn't really know what to expect. I didn't want to go when it was time to leave, of course. I never do, and especially not after a multiple long errand day and when it's gray and rainy and there's driving involved. Downtown. And parking. Underground.

But I drove. And parked (found a space that wasn't squished between a car and a post, although I had to go really far down to find it). And found my friends. And had a good dinner. And was well and truly blown away by the show.

One-man shows are hard, don't you think? They must be. It's all you. You have to keep everybody's interest and attention and amusement engaged for the entire time. And he did, he COMPLETELY did. When he switched characters, it was like his face changed into a different face. When he was the soldier king Pentheus, he was unutterably creepy. When he was the god Dionysus, you could almost feel his high, sweet voice stroking the inside of your arm or the back of your neck. When we were inside the Bacchanale, everything was so loud and shrieky and the chairs were shaking and it was uncomfortably overwhelming, which was exactly right. It was incredibly clever and musically flawless and very well done.

I was up too late. And today was solid rain all day and I feel like there are poisoned rocks rolling around inside my head but I worked out and took Eve to piano and then played with the piano teacher's one-year-old pug and two two-month-old baby pugs, so that was fun, but I didn't feel like blogging in the least. So I thought I'd just tell you about my day, wherein, as my husband said "you went all kinds of places". And now I have.