The play went swimmingly. I live for theater, sometimes. Performance. Josh congratulated me for getting the first laugh out of the audience, and I suppose I did, though it didn't really register at the time. Lindley said when she came to the dress rehearsal that I made the show. I'm exhausted now, and despite tremendous amounts of washing my face still feels makeupey, but I'm so happy. Cesca brought me 25 beautiful pink roses before the show, along with a much-needed cup of hot cocoa. I gave a couple of them away, hung four in various stages of blooming up to dry, am attempting to press one under my book crate, and have the rest in a bucket of water on a chair by my door. My room will smell of roses for weeks - I will eventually succumb to the pack-rat desire to hang them all up to dry so that I can keep them forever, though what I'm going to do with 22 dried roses I don't know. They're so beautiful, and what I should do is leave them to slowly bloom and lose their petals and complete that whole cycle thing in their own time, then throw them away. But I like freezing moments. I like hoarding solid evidence of my memories. I like dry, pressed flowers in books of poetry, and I like pictures and I write everything down. I need to learn to let go more, to come to terms with the cycles of change that I talk so much about. So this is my new project - allowing most of my beautiful roses to be a big, beautiful bouquet in a bucket, and then to slowly die. Enjoy the beauty while it lasts instead of trying to freeze it.
La. I do ramble. The play was wonderful - people remembered their lines and didn't lose their costumes, there were only a couple of mishaps with props, and we had just one adrenaline-inspiring moment of improvisation, which nobody even noticed. We gave Khara her thanks and her flowers and she was so happy and so surprised she nearly cried. It's amazing how people change when you do something nice that they weren't expecting.
Now off to muffin-making.
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