What a crazy-ass weekend. It started off last Thursday with High School Musical rehearsal and ended Monday with a hellish late night bus ride back from a Merry Widow sitzprobe. I take that back, the crazy-ass weekend didn’t really end officially until after Trish and I voted Tuesday night after work. No, wait, I take it back again, I guess it didn’t really end until after Obama’s speech later that night. Oh, wait, I forgot about yesterday’s first dress rehearsal for Merry Widow. And I have to head back out to NJ right after work today for the final dress. So actually, my crazy-ass weekend hasn’t ended at all and has sort of turned into a crazy-ass week. No, I take that back, too, it’s actually turned into a crazy-ass month. Oy!
Adding to the weekend merriment was my cousin, Al, and his new girlfriend Bridget. He was here to run the NYC marathon. So on top of commuting back and forth to NJ for rehearsals, we had to entertain and host out of town relatives and try not to look like raving lunatics in front of his new gf. I think for the most part we succeeded on the latter, but Sunday’s post-marathon dinner in Long Island definitely did not help our cause. More on that one later.
After work on Friday, Trish and I planned on going back into the city for an evening of Halloween freak watching with Al since Bridget didn’t arrive until Saturday afternoon. Alas, witches and vampires were not in the cards for us this year. Upon arrival from the airport, Al promptly crashed on the couch complaining of general sluggishness. We settled for Brazilian and Thai take-out (yeah, weird combo) and watching movies in the comfort of our living room. We were hoping Al hadn’t been infected by the bug that Trish had passed on to the rest of the Pineda clan earlier in the week - definitely not a good thing if you’re planning on running 26 miles the next day. Case in point, I felt like shit Thursday night after rehearsal so I took some cold medicine that totally knocked me out. I then ended up sleeping through my alarm clock and getting to work late. Not 10 minutes late, not half an hour late, not even an hour late, but THREE hours late. Luckily (or sadly), no one seemed to notice until I called in. Oh well, who needs self-esteem anyway?
Early Saturday afternoon I headed to NJ for a nasty five-hour Widow rehearsal. I won’t even go into the agony of it all except to say that we had to finish blocking the show that day, meaning all of Act III. I left Trish in the city to cousin-sit because in addition to Al and his gf, our cousin Rosanna and her bf, Jamie, flew in from Michigan, and another cousin, Margot, and her husband, Jim, drove in from Long Island. I love my family dearly, but the idea of spending the entire day traipsing around the city with them sounded like torture. Don’t get me wrong, they’re lovely people, but walking around midtown Manhattan on a weekend afternoon with six people in tow is like me trying to squeeze into a pair of speedos - it’s possible, but not pretty. Apparently, there was some minor restaurant trauma because the group decided to stray from Margot’s Nazi itinerary and not go to the village for dinner. A table for seven at a nice restaurant in midtown on a Saturday night without a reservation? - good luck. (I was going to throw in another speedo analogy here, but I’m sure you’re still recovering from the horrific image conjured by that last one.) Well, I guess luck was on their side because they ended up at some great Cuban place knocking back Sangrias, while I, on the other hand, settled for dried out steak-um strips at a diner on scenic route 22.
weekend festivities continue under "Crazy-ass Week Part Deux"
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