Tuesday, May 28, 2013

Wild, True, and Absolutely Moronic

Production week for my musical is here, and with it comes an absolute inability, on my part, to hold one thought in my head for more than three seconds at a time. It's part of my charm.

I got up early this morning (5:30) and had my healthy breakfast. I managed, even, to get a couple miles of running in. Then I showered and headed off to Petite School.

My first task was to get my sound system paid for--I reserved equipment last week, but needed to call the rental place with payment information. I did that, then called a local costume place to see if they have pig noses for sale...in my haste to get everything on my To Do List done, I missed one important factor. My play has three pigs in it, and I had one pig nose. Problem! With little time for an Amazon order, my best bet was Evangeline's in Old Sacramento, and sure enough, when I called, they had pig noses in stock. (Really, if Evangeline's didn't have pig noses, no one in Sacramento would.)

Petite School is just south of downtown and Old Sac, so it was easy enough to pop over that way to buy a couple of pig noses--let me just say that this is what I do for a living, people. I buy pig noses. Anyway, I was kind of tickled to have a brief outing to Old Sac, and I had my iPhone out and Instagram ready for this photogenic little slice of Sacramento. I found my pig noses in good time, then wandered the long way 'round back to my car in the parking garage. I reached in my pocket for the little ticket to pay...and, oh. Shit.

I've never lost a parking garage ticket before. Turns out the fine for losing a scrap of paper the size of a credit card, after only parking there for 30 minutes, is $29. They'll take check or cash at the garage, or you can mail a check. Of course, I only had my debit card and about $5 in cash.

I had to pull into a parking spot at the exit to get my little "bill" or whatever, and as I backed up, I banged--rather loudly--into a cement pillar. Gah!! Proving that Mazdas are awesome, Rosie, the poor beat-up girl, doesn't even have a dent in the bumper. I managed only to scratch a part that had recently been scratched in an incident at the Mazda dealership (their fault, not mine). I love this car.

Still, it was loud, it was embarrassing, and it heightened my already too-high feeling of being a dumbass.


I handed over my driver's license to the attendant on hand. He looked up, grinned, and said, "This doesn't even look at you!" I grinned in response. "Thanks! Ninety pounds!"

"Nice! I lost a hundred twenty-five."

"Go you!"

We chatted while he filled out my paperwork and gave me the envelope to conveniently mail my fine in (for parking, people, parking!!!) and finally, I was on my way. As I cruised down I-5 towards Petite School, the hilarity of the whole situation struck me and I laughed so hard I had tears in my eyes. Parking citations! Cement pillars! Weight loss conversations with random parking garage attendants! Only in my world, friends.

The rest of the day passed with little drama. I pulled a few kids out of class, hollered at my little chorus singers (again) to listen to me and try not to waste time by chatting incessantly. I ran the after-school rehearsal with minimal problems and took notes on the last-minute stuff we need to work on. I had Dr. Principal laughing when I told her a couple of my chorus girls have to leave early tomorrow and, "honestly? I'm okay with that, because I'm really, really sick of the talking!"

In all of this, my colleagues are amazing. They are supportive, quick to offer support and advice, quick to reassure me that I'm doing a good job. A truly great school community is one where teachers band together like that, and Petite School (obviously, this is not its real name) is one of the best I've worked for.

Day one is under wraps. Tomorrow, I get my sound system, have the final dress rehearsal, and gear up for Thursday, the big day.

At the end of all this, there's a very large margarita with my name on it.

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