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Life in a Northern Virginia suburb of Washington, D.C. B.M.A.T.C., and Etruscan typewriter erasers. Blogged by David Gorsline.
Something else to be thankful for: Although Tiffany and Jennifer have caught the flu this week, I haven't gotten sick, so far. Dressing rooms tend to be jumping with germs, and usually I'm good for one bout of honking and slushing about in the course of the run. But, so far, so good.
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5:40:40 PM
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I parked next to a Montgomery County police car for last night's show. The unit's laptop computer was open, and running a screen saver. On a deep lavender background, came the title crawling across the screen in italic capitals: PRINCESS.
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5:02:22 PM
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We opened the show last night to a full house of friendly faces. I came home and emptied the sink of a week's worth of breakfast dishes so that I could draw water for my opening-night flowers.
Leta says that the best acting she's ever seen me do is when I profess enthusiasm for the prospect of being in the film version of Cats. She may be right: when I was in New York about five years ago, I stopped in the street of Sixth Avenue to take a blurry photograph of the Winter Garden, dark after That Show had closed.
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5:00:04 PM
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