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I think I may know somebody who is a kinkajou. I only know this person through online correspondence, though, so I'm reluctant to say so for sure.
So we went to the Shakespeare Santa Cruz production of The Tempest last night, thanks to the comps awesome Emma got us on ridiculously short notice, and in the middle of horrible stress and we thank you, kiddo. I just now figured out what the costume and set theme for this was: Marx Brothers movies! The goddesses were dressed up as Margaret Dumont -- and, for more awesomeness -- Miranda was played as if she was a Margaret Dumont character! And all the regular human guys were wearing those weird 30's resort suits with sashes sporting County Fair ribbons on them.
Okay, I figured that out. Now, here are some questions:
-- the dialog keeps insisting that Caliban is ugly. How come he's always played by strikingly handsome men?
-- WTF happens to Caliban at the end of the play? It's not enough to be forgiven by that (excuse me) prick Prospero.
-- What's going on when Ariel asks Prospero if he loves him and Prospero doesn't answer?
-- Is Prospero supposed to act like somebody's pulling behavior prompts out of a hat and reading them into his head? Because his arc doesn't make sense unless we admit that he, unlike everyone else in the play except maybe Trinculo, is a toon. Trinculo was played as a toon, but he could have been played as a jester too, and it would have been just as funny.
-- Ariel totally looked like Harpo Marx, stood like Harpo Marx, stared at people like Harpo Marx, and used music like Harpo Marx. I know, that's not a question. But it fits anyway.
My current "bloated and feeling fat" weight is the same as the "oh my dog have I really lost that much or am I just dehydrated" weight I had a couple of weeks ago. But that means only a couple of pounds lost in that time, so I shouldn't be too excited.
Yesterday the baby who scoots around backwards and upside down got himself into a sitting position stuck rigidly on his hands several times, but he did not appreciate the awesomeness of this because once in that position he could not move. So he screamed about it all day.
I'm going to do a Life on the Central Coast soon, maybe tomorrow, because I have saved up for you: shark attacks, town-gown water wars, elusive spinach salmonella, improbable bicycle accidents in the forest, traffic, begonias, boutique fruit . . . but right now (1) I'm sleepy and (2) I have work to do.
So we went to the Shakespeare Santa Cruz production of The Tempest last night, thanks to the comps awesome Emma got us on ridiculously short notice, and in the middle of horrible stress and we thank you, kiddo. I just now figured out what the costume and set theme for this was: Marx Brothers movies! The goddesses were dressed up as Margaret Dumont -- and, for more awesomeness -- Miranda was played as if she was a Margaret Dumont character! And all the regular human guys were wearing those weird 30's resort suits with sashes sporting County Fair ribbons on them.
Okay, I figured that out. Now, here are some questions:
-- the dialog keeps insisting that Caliban is ugly. How come he's always played by strikingly handsome men?
-- WTF happens to Caliban at the end of the play? It's not enough to be forgiven by that (excuse me) prick Prospero.
-- What's going on when Ariel asks Prospero if he loves him and Prospero doesn't answer?
-- Is Prospero supposed to act like somebody's pulling behavior prompts out of a hat and reading them into his head? Because his arc doesn't make sense unless we admit that he, unlike everyone else in the play except maybe Trinculo, is a toon. Trinculo was played as a toon, but he could have been played as a jester too, and it would have been just as funny.
-- Ariel totally looked like Harpo Marx, stood like Harpo Marx, stared at people like Harpo Marx, and used music like Harpo Marx. I know, that's not a question. But it fits anyway.
My current "bloated and feeling fat" weight is the same as the "oh my dog have I really lost that much or am I just dehydrated" weight I had a couple of weeks ago. But that means only a couple of pounds lost in that time, so I shouldn't be too excited.
Yesterday the baby who scoots around backwards and upside down got himself into a sitting position stuck rigidly on his hands several times, but he did not appreciate the awesomeness of this because once in that position he could not move. So he screamed about it all day.
I'm going to do a Life on the Central Coast soon, maybe tomorrow, because I have saved up for you: shark attacks, town-gown water wars, elusive spinach salmonella, improbable bicycle accidents in the forest, traffic, begonias, boutique fruit . . . but right now (1) I'm sleepy and (2) I have work to do.