Sometimes, Good Deeds Go Rewarded

Last night, my parents and I ventured out to visit Sullivan, Il, which is known for its live production theatre, Little Theatre On the Square. The theatre, in fact, has been written up in USA Today as one of the top ten best places to see theatre off-off Broadway (way off-off Broadway!). I had heard two ladies in town talking about the production they saw last weekend of "The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee," and thought, man, that was one play that I had wanted my parents to see (myself having seen a college production of it last spring at Auburn). I looked up the theatre and, to my glee, they still had one weekend left of shows. We called and managed to get tickets on the second row (close enough for you?). Not knowing exactly where the theatre was, we left early and got into the town at 5:30. With lots of time to kill (curtain was at 8), we looked around for dinner. Just off the square, we found a place called Jibby's and walked in. The hostess asked if we had reservations. Really? I thought. For this small of a town? Turns out, they only had two empty slots for the whole night and we could take one of them right then (everyone going to the play must eat there!). And no wonder the place was booked—it was delicious! After dinner, with still plenty of time to kill, we walked causally around the square. We then got our tickets (still early) and waited in the lobby. I wanted to be in the lobby to try to find the guy who was looking for audience spellers. Having seen the show before, I knew he would be out there and I thought it would be funny if I could get Daddy into the show. Finally, the man came out. I went over to talk to him but, before I could, Daddy pushed me forward saying "She'd love to spell!" Ha. Ha. No. I wouldn't. Spelling is the only subject in school that I was bad at. Seriously. Besides, I had already seen the show and knew what would be coming (part of the funniness of the onstage spellers is that they have no idea what to expect). I told the man I had seen the show before. Now, hopefully, he wouldn't pick me. Show started and, to my relief, I was not called up to be a speller (Mental Yay!). During Pandemonium, a song rant about how the element of luck makes the bee unfair after the word "cow" was given to an audience member, Olive threw a lot of index cards that landed in the house covering the aisle and 1^st and 2^nd row. A bunch landed on me, so I read them (they had one word on them each- words for the bee). At intermission, I collected the cards from the floor and aisle way, making a nice stack, and placed them on the corner of the stage. Why? Well, I thought it would be nice. Plus, actors were going up and down the stage there (one on skates too) and they didn't need to slide on the cards. As intermission was coming to a close, a stagehand walked out of a side door and said, "I heard that someone cleaned up my cards for me, thank you." He then handed me a bag of m&ms. It just goes to show you that, sometimes, good deeds go rewarded…

And down the stretch they come...

At Ellis Park horse races in KY

The Tennessee Loop

(Playing in the fountains in Chatt!)

So, for one of my summer trips, we made a Tennessee loop to Nashville, Chattanooga, and back through Nashville to Dixon (to a state park for the family reunion). Day one in Chattanooga, we visited Mom's old friends at Creative Discovery Museum, had dinner with Grandma, played in fountains, and went to a Lookouts baseball game with Lauren. For day two, we went to McKays (my favorite used bookstore) and spent the afternoon at the aquarium (playing in the fountains again!). Wanting to relax, we went up to our room on the ninth floor. Yes, knowing the floor number is important. At around 8:59, the power goes out. How do I remember the time? Because the only show Mommy wanted to watch that night was America's Got Talent--and it starts at 9. We kept saying to ourselves, oh, don't worry, the power will come back on in just one minute. It didn't. About 40 minutes later, we decided we should brave the stairs, all nine flights of them, and see what was going on in the lobby. Mommy didn't want to go; she firmly believed that once she made it down alll those stairs the power would come back. Not so. When we got to the lobby, we see that they have put snacks out. Cheese, crackers, and--Oo!- warm chocolate chip cookies. As I reach for one of the two cookies left, the lights flickered back on. I heard a deep sigh and turned to see my mother. Her expression clearly said "I told you so." She grabbed the last cookie and wondered aloud, "How come the power had to mess up my show?" By the time we got back up stairs, it was 10:01. No joke.

Rest of the trip? Well, let's just cover it by saying it was the family reunion. We swam, ate a big dinner, you know the drill. This year, we did have a mass, which was different. I was asked to play for it a week in advance. Not much time, eh? To be fair, I have played at my church for 5 years and all the prep I get is 30 minutes beforehand. So, this was a bit more time. I made a list of 4 songs that I wanted to play for mass-- ones that sounded great on the flute solo (this would be my first completely solo mass). Turns out copies had already been run of music that my cousin picked. That's fine, I guess. I can play them. I did. It sounded fine and got plenty of compliments. I am coming back a week later to edit this post and say that 3 of the 4 songs I would have used for the mass were actually used at this week's mass. How coincidental is that?