…yeah, man.

This is always the hardest day after closing a show. Monday. Back at it. Christmas concerts, couple of trips to nursing homes to bring some holiday cheer, shopping, planning for Thanksgiving, the general craziness of the season. After Christmas, I have January to prepare, then we start the audition process for Grease. Yay.

Best part this week: we get the Js for a sleepover on Friday. Thanks to Dinner Theatre, that hasn’t happened for the last few weeks. Excited! Jake came to my show and really enjoyed it. Gotta get that kid started on piano soon…

So what was the best part of your weekend, besides trying not to think of Monday morning at 6:00?

When is the last time I slept in until 8:30? I am starting a dangerous trend. It’s like I’m regressing to teenage years. Soon, I’ll be going to bed at 3 a.m. and sleeping right through my morning classes.

I went to bed at midnight last night (I don’t have to be at school for conferences until 10 this morning), and read for about 15 minutes. Next thing I know, it’s 8:18. Whaaat?

Last night’s penultimate rehearsal went pretty well. There are still annoying mistakes/miscues, but at some point, it needs to be OK. I struggle with that every year: when do you stop fighting the fight and just let the kids take over the show? I think it’s the “let the kids take over” part that bothers me the most, but…yeah… :-/

I always forget to tell them I’m proud of them until after I’ve removed their faces from their heads and fed them to them about something or other. So I’ll say it right now, when I’m not ripping off lips: these young artists and crew members are awesome to work with. And yes, I ended a sentence in a preposition.

Isn’t that just like me? Say something nice, then feel all ooky about it, so chase it by saying something ridiculous. Rat Fink, Rat Fink. What a donkey.

Hugs to all — let the final descent into madness begin.

Phenergan hangovers are the worst.

Somebunny go in for me today.

It’s Monday already? You have got to be kidding me. But I don’t want it to be Monday. I just want to be a crybaby about it. You know, like LeBooHoo. He cries with us.

Welp, here comes production week. I have one last rehearsal tonight with the cast only (before the pit players arrive tomorrow night). Stuff needs to be fixed. Vocal repair, dance repair, cast repair. Repair.

I feel like repairing back to my warm bedroom, under the electric blanket. Anyone else dreading this morning?

Blark.

Waarom? Why?

I mean, really. Who eats candy for breakfast? Ugh. Now I’m sick. Serves me right. Why do I do this? Ah well. Get the coffee and get on with it. There is much to do this day.

The tech rehearsal went well yesterday. There might be a show in there somewhere, although we’re really nowhere near ready for prime time. Today is the annual rehearsal and dinner with my quartet. Caleb, Cory, Haydon and Ben will be here at 5:00 tonight for lasagna, Caesar salad, garlic bread, mint chocolate chip ice cream cake and rehearsal. Not in that order. Gotta work out some kinks first, then mangia.

OK so why do I want to punch something this morning? I mean, last time I checked, I have a beautiful family, fantastic friends, a job I love, a cozy home, and an awesome dog. What’s up with the sour mood? Is it the cup full of malted milk balls? Am I having an episode of some kind? Why do I hate everything and everyone (except you)?

All right, doctors. Ready, steady, elucidate. I’m going for the java; I’ll be right back. Rawr.