Writing becomes more and more sporadic as time rolls toward my new year. I turn 60 on Saturday and I planned a big dancing party. No job, worries about bucks, but I feel I owe this to myself as I ceaselessly toss fetes for others and I want to celebrate and feel good about this decade milestone.
So cakes are being created, and I stumbled upon a theme while wallowing in my version of pornography, no not poetry, but rather gardening catalogs. So as I lay sweating and miserable one wet laundry humid day in August leafing through and lusting after botanical beauties I had a wonderful fully hatched epiphany. I would give myself a 60-birthday party with a theme. I would ask my friends to bring or send plants to create a 60 Anniversary Garden, one I will dig and plant in the country. And so I sat down and wrote the copy, then in true Henny Penny fashion my good friends pitched in. Susan made the invite, a former student found inexpensive champagne and one of my daughter’s cool friends, now a pastry chef, took up the mantle of flowers in cakes. She, Jenna, is creating pulverized ginger in honey butter crème all swathing an orange blossom cake, and that is just one of them. If you aren’t coming I don’t want you to drool too much.
And although I am not fully, or gainfully employed my kids are and I have work, projects and seem to smile all the time in the autumn sunshine. I am in a play OH MY GOD did I say that? Yes I am as an actor. Who thought that was a good idea? Well the director of Hotel Savoy, Dominique Huber did. And he wanted only non-actors, so after years of being the producer or stage manager I am now the talent, such as it is. I had my first rehearsal.
OK what a joy to not NOT be responsible for all the things I saw when I went. How will the audience know that they have to walk crazy steep stairs? What happens if people balk at being shuttled into a small Alice in Wonderland like closet in the dank dark to wait for god knows what alone? Oh have I said that each audience member goes in one at a time? And the next guest follows seven minutes later. The audience then passes in the halls on occasion. What would stop someone from turning and going with someone else? I am full of questions, but luckily in my new incarnation I am just the bartender on the fourth floor. Here see what you think. Maybe I will see you in the bar. http://www.ps122.org/performances/hotel_savoy.html
Anyway I am off to rehearsal number two; must pedal that bike to Goethe House six miles from TriBeCa to the Upper East Side. But that famous fall sun is shining and my party looms too. I am excited.