Deep Breaths and Curse Words

Things don't always go according to plan.

Mama said there'd be days like this.

Sometimes everything that can go wrong does go wrong.

And sometimes those three things team up and kick your ass from here to Sunday.

Only if it was Sunday I'd have the next two days off...

Where do I even begin? The show seemed destined for difficulty before it even began. I've been having some health issues as of late, and tonight seemed to be one of the rougher nights. I mean, nothing sets the mood like having a heart to heart with the porcelain princess right before the show.

Troubles with the costume change, couscous in my wheel shoes (don't ask), straining my knee a little mid-way through my number, followed by taking a severe blow to the calf at the end.

Things seemed to look up until I came very close to knocking the marimba off the stage (only one side fell off...). This was then followed by the near catastrophic swinging-into-the-bottle chandelier incident. Thank the circus gods none of them broke... not that I didn't come close to breaking the extra bottles I was left to take onstage.

And hey, you know what goes good with a blow to the calf? Having a mirror shoved into both your shins! Which pairs marvelously with taking a platform to the gut as you maneuver your way through the backstage in the dark.

Cue the group battle scene (really!). Only add a stage covered in so much make up residue and couscous (don't ask) that everyone is sliding all over the place. Then try and do some acro on the slippery slippery floor. And then, for good measure, bash your forehead on the floor before you exit.

Nice!

Can't find the carabiner in the mess of fabric? No worries! That's beans compared to what's about to happen...

End of kite number. We try to take the kite down, but the kite won't move. Its stuck. Meanwhile, the white curtain is trying to go up only now its stuck in the kite. Fine. Bring everything back down. Big, gaping, silence of death follows... okay. That bit's settled. Move the structure forward and put everything in place. Cue the... wait! C isn't there yet! The bassist's mic pack and headphones are stuck on something and strangling him! The weight is still on the trampoline! P goes gives the audio cue to start and since I'm running late (someone had to get rid of the weight) and he often starts before I give him the visual cue anyway, I bolt to my place. More awkward silence and feeble attempts at curtain waving...

The curtain falls. The trampo-wall act finally starts. Its the last act of the show. So for good measure, I roll my ankle...

Deep breaths...

Curse words...

And now, bed.