Know what I had a 20-minute phone conversation about yesterday? Retirement. The first time I’ve ever really spoken openly, seriously, and at length about it — and with an STRS rep, no less.

My retirement date: May, 2020. Eight and a half years from now. I could have done it September of 2019, but that would mean I’d have to report for the first week of classes, then exit stage left. Not doing that to the kids. But unless I get a wild hair and decide to stick it out to age 65, that’s when I’m calling it quits, and I feel good about it.

It’s not that I want to quit teaching so I can sit at home. I will still need to work, since it’ll be an “early” retirement (I didn’t start teaching until I was 34). But I can just about guarantee that “work” won’t involve 70-hour weeks of choreography, rehearsals, and two mainstage shows a year. Maybe I’ll sell cakes, write down those arrangements banging around in my head, and work part time in an office. The goal is to supplement my meager retirement income, but not buy the farm in the process. There’s Grammie-in’ to be done in those years, too. And traveling, and hanging out with friends and fam. The important stuff. I know I’ll never really stop working, but I don’t want to run myself into an early grave doing it.

So there it is. May 2020. We’re in the single digits, fiends. I plan to go out with a bang, so stay tuned.

FO

Fiends. I just might be getting too old for this, but I’d go out happy.

Dinner Theatre went quite well, and I’m so grateful to and proud of everyone — cast, crew, wait staff, parent volunteers, musicians, technical staff…it was a blast. And now it’s back to real life for awhile. And by “real life,” I mean Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Grease auditions.

But that’s all good stuff, too. Especially the family part. I just hope my grandchildren remember what I look like.

So, this morning (after swallowing a fistful of Aleve for every single one of my aching joints, oi) I’m having coffee at Bux with BFF Kay, then coming home to …well…relax until school starts up again tomorrow.

What is this relax of which I speak?

And here we are again. Opening. Ticket sales are pushing the 600 mark; that’s a good thing. I hope we can score a good profit to put towards the choir’s New York tour in 2014.

I think it’s important to point out at this juncture that there was not a single no-holds-barred, nuclear-disaster meltdown during this rehearsal run. Hmm. I wonder if that means something disastrous is on tap for tonight or tomorrow. I say no. I hope no. Heh.

Seriously, there were no ego issues, no petty crap between cast and crew, no immaturity problems (other than artistic), and no crummy attitudes (except for mine one night). It really was a pleasure to go to rehearsal and see how these young artists developed and improved. They even have a decent group time step. Seamus made a comment last night to the cast that he’s worked with a lot of high school productions, and he was impressed that my kids didn’t constantly rush on the tap number. Sometimes it helps to have others (like my pal Stoney) give feedback. They’re so used to me crushing their inner child, it is a good thing to hear something positive from somewhere else.

Not that I’m constantly smashing their hopes and dreams, mind. Let’s just say I do it on a somewhat regular basis.

Happy opening to my cast and crew — off we go!

FO – much to do this day

how I loathe you.

It’s not the “rehearsal” part I hate, it’s the fact that I have to yank everyone to school at 8:00 on a Saturday morning — especially when it’s the morning after the last football game of the season for the players in the cast, and the fact that the band/cheerleaders bus got stuck in the mud at New London for 50 minutes last night and had to be pulled out by a truck. Yipes!

For those not of the theater ilk, a tech rehearsal is a 4-hour marathon run-through, designed to work out bugs on the technical side (sound, lights, staging, props, etc.) of a production. It’s a necessary part of getting the singers used to functioning with body packs on, and bringing the tech staff up to speed on cues and mic assignments.

It can also be like herding cats or spooning up spilled mercury. I’ve had decent tech rehearsals, and I’ve had full-blown Barnum & Bailey experiences. What will today be? Tempus dicet.

Best part for the students: pastries from Hawkins Bakery, and an endless supply of Dunkin’ Donuts coffee. Am I good to them or what?

Have a great Saturnday, fiends. I’m nonstop to Monday here.

…when only two of seventy students know who Bing Crosby was.

My 7th and 8th grade choir is singing “Perfect Christmas Night” from How the Grinch Stole Christmas (Jim Carrey version). Awesome tune; really swings. The second verse contains the phrase, I got Bing Crosby on, have all my troubles gone…

Minutes after the girls sang through that verse, a hand went up. “What’s Bing Crosby?” Oi. I didn’t even think of talking about him beforehand, and I am usually quite meticulous regarding my singers actually knowing what they’re singing about. So, today, I’m taking the White Christmas DVD to school (I have it on VHS only; thanks for letting me borrow yours, Mavis!), and we’re going to watch the part where Crosby is bunkered in with his platoon on Christmas Eve during WWII, and he sings “White Christmas” to his fellow soldiers, all of whom are silent and preoccupied with thoughts of home, as the bombs go off in the distance. I always bawl during that scene.

I’ll never forget sitting in my dorm room watching TV at Bowling Green State University, 34 years ago this month, and seeing a news bulletin interrupt programming to tell us that Crosby passed away. I was so sad. Of course, I didn’t know then what a dark side he had….but that’s a post for another day. He was still a positively iconic part of my growing-up years. Mother listened to him all the time.

Anyhow, this will give me a good “in” to discuss Irving Berlin with the kids as well. Love that man’s genius. He died too young at 101.

Did you know it’s Finkday? Saints be praised. Big weekend planned — birthday feast and a night out with son Seamus as he celebrates his 31st. Where have the years gone…