Those Gaspar Project days were fun ...even though I was generally sick to my stomach with anxiety pre-show Wednesdays. One evening sticks out for some reason. It must have been fall and was already completely dark at like 6pm. I was nauseous with the usual nervousness and walking over the knolly grassy area leading from the six pack, past the McDonald's (What was that McDonald's building called again? Something with "Orange" in it, right?), on my way to practice in Lincoln Hall, before heading over to the Channing-Murray for warm up and the show. I was thinking, "Why?! Why do you do this? Why are you in improv if it makes you so crazy? Aren't people who do this supposed to be psyched and fun with it?" I was trying to calm myself and get excited at the same time. Then I suddenly just thought, "Man. You are so lucky. This is awesome. Go have fun, you big douche." And I started whistling, totally happy walking through the crispy cold autumn air. I think one of the guys "smoked" from his "vagina" in the show that night. Or maybe it was the night of "Sugar Cookies". Or maybe the night in which during practice, I forgot I wasn't really on a trampoline, just jumping on a classroom floor, and I did a somersault flip onto my back. All that class just runs together in my mind.
In any case, I'm glad to still be friends with those/you guys. Only wish I'd spent less time stressed and more time having fun! Although, really, there was quite a lot of fun. Remember that terrible gig at the posh dorm?
Things here are good. Lily's in her third week of big-kid school and is liking it. She's coming out with full sentences and explanations in Catalan and Spanish with us now, not just her teachers. I always wondered what it would be like if our kid did really end up speaking another language. It's as enjoyable and weird as we thought it'd be.
And that's about all I can must. Man, I am tired. I actually can't type any more. Woop.
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