Almost a year and a half ago, my college roommate (who also not-so-coincidentally happens to be one of my best friends) got married. Cue wild cheering - and a wedding to plan. As Maid of Honor, there was a lot of running around madly and being very firm with people who weren't behaving. There was also a video camera, and a minidisc recording system, and the plan was to get the boy and co. to make the wedding video and, while they were at it, create a CD of the wedding band playing. (Rachel loves Frank London, and what nicer gift than the actual music he played at her wedding?)
Of course, it was a really important occasion which meant things went horribly wrong more than once. End result: one very frazzled boy, one Cat-as-tech-support, and Steve in bamboo pants. But the video got made, and so did the CD, and the wedding went off just fine.
Hence, the opera.
See, Rachel wanted to say thank-you to the boy, and decided that opera tickets would be a wonderful way of reminding him just how much he kicks ass. Time passes with much procrastination on both sides. Then, Wednesday night, I went to see Le Nozze di Figaro, courtesy of Rachel-and-the-boy.
It was my first opera. And. It. Was. Amazing.
I got a real kick out of the sheer experience of it - dressing up in formalwear and walking up the wide red-carpeted stairs to our private box at the Met is pretty much designed to make a girl feel like a queen. I loved the dramatic technique of it - watching how they used pacing, costuming, gesture and plot to make the story seem larger-than-life. And I absolutely adored the music - though now I know that next time I go to the opera, I should listen to it beforehand so that I can appreciate all the subtleties. The boy bought me the CD and so I've been listening to it all day and hearing something new pretty much each time. The verdict: I'm definitely going to the opera again as soon as I can afford it (as in when I get a new job).
I also couldn't stop picturing people swinging in from ropes and chandeliers and all that. Arrr! I may be thinking too much about NaNoWriMo, as I'm finding myself doing things like writing bawdy songs for the characters to sing .....
So then last night, Rob and I did a photo shoot, because the people who are publishing my poems want a headshot, and I'm about the least photogenic person you could possibly imagine. He managed to do wonders, though: I neither look like a doughy pink pudding or like I'm doing some serious designer drugs, which are generally the two options. I'm not sure why I tend to look funny in pictures, but I'm only vaguely worried that the reason why is because I'm really that funny-looking in real life. If my sexiness is a delusion, it's one I'd like to keep, thankyouverymuch. In any case, it's a photo I'm quite proud to have published. I've said it several times already, but: thank you, Rob! You kick ass!
So I think that explains all the ass-kicking except for perhaps that of Faith; she always kicks ass both literally and metaphorically, but our little agreement about November Creativity Month (she's choreographing a dance piece while I write my novel) was particularly what I had in mind. I don't know whether she realized at the time just how much it means to me, but I guess she knows it now. -g-
And now it's time to start getting ready for holiday-time. See you all in a few!