This week's blog starts exactly the same way last week's started:
Not opera (again)
Saturday night, I attended OBT's final performance of Giselle (with Jennifer Hammontree, our Production Stage Manager, as my always-fabulous date. Actually, I was her date. I DIGRESS). I love watching dance, but with the exception of that one time in kindergarten, I've never taken a dance class in my life.
That one time in kindergarten: my mom took me to one ballet class, ever, when I was five. She grew up dancing -- my aunt was a professional dancer and dance teacher -- and thought I'd follow in her footsteps. But I hated pink and preferred playing with worms in the backyard. Sorry, Mama.
I was really excited about Giselle. I'd read a few great reviews and everyone I knew who'd seen it said it was terrific. Hilariously, Jen and I kind of forgot that we weren't at an opera, and we didn't think to read the program beforehand, so for the first act we really had no idea what was going on. I found myself looking for the supertext screen just as the house lights dimmed, because I'm so accustomed to seeing "Please silence all electronic devices" flash up there. Meanwhile, she's next to me saying "house to half, go," because she can't sit in the theater without mentally calling the show.
This is how people in theater end up dating and/or marrying other people in theater. Because sometimes we might be a little insufferable?