Alright, it's dress rehearsal time. There is an enormous platter tutu covered in feathers in the back of my car, and a tiara in my dance bag. (Actually, there's a lot of stuff in my dance bag, but who wants to talk about that when you have a tiara?)
I've made my pre-show trip to the makeup section of the grocery store, and, as per usual, came out with bottles, vials, and a long rant to anyone who would listen on how that particular aisle could be used to diagnose most of the self-esteem problems that our society bestows upon its female half.
We did the tech and blocking rehearsal last night, performing in sweats and t-shirts for empty chairs. Tonight we do the dry run. Tomorrow's the real deal. Sunday morning I have pancakes for breakfast because one way or the other, big bird will be laid aside by then and no matter how great everything is, pancakes always make it better.
Yesterday in the comments, folks asked for show details. For interested parties, the information can be found here. If you come along, don't throw bread crumbs at the birds. It's distracting.
Alright, I'm off to get flocked.