Once upon a time, I readily agreed to take on a small part of Pistol in a summer play – a rendition of Shakespeare’s Merry Wives of Windsor – which required a few lines. Yet still, the language, it trips. With interjections of Italian, intentionally busted grammar for my crass rogue of a character and the waxing poetic of metaphor, making my few lines make sense makes life more interesting. Good thing that fits my sideways sense of “fun”.
I also, amid weekend rehearsals, did a cleanse. Oh, and it required the whole “not eating” thing for…two weekends.
Okay, I ate. At least I did eat/drink the prescribed vitamin mixes, cleansing beverages and protein pellets. I was not (not so much) in danger of passing out. But I was hanging out in a park full of barbecues with a cast of families who knows how to pack for the days’ snacking and lunching.
The pellets pale in comparison.
More fun. It is good. I feel better. I sleep better. I don’t crave. It is good. It’s just better not to fill the cleansing weekends with … anything. Let alone rehearsals.
I survived. I think everyone else did too. But if I do this again next year? I’m going to better coordinate my various “fun”…