dream

Webber & Rice

/ Quilly / 11 Comments

Joseph & the Amazing Technicolor Dream Coat

Saturday night my niece, LB, gifted me with a ticket to, Joseph & the Amazing Technicolor Dream Coat. There was a catch of course, with LB there always is. I had to drive. The play was in Summerlin, a hoity-toity suburb of Vegas where every other street is a roundabout and nothing goes straight from here to there.

We had quite a trip finding the Summerlin Theatre — actually drove past it about four times — but find it we did. Our seats were front row, center. When we first sat down we thought we were too close to the stage. Turns out it was the perfect place to be. I imagine Pharoah flirts with a woman in the front row during every performance, but this performance it was me! Be still my heart.

I absolutely loved, One More Angel in Heaven, and Benjamin Calypso, but I’d have to say my favorite part was, Song of the King, When Pharaoh, as Elvis, sang and did his pelvis gyrations for me. I just about drooled laughed myself silly. It was wonderful fun.

This is the third Signature Production I have seen, and I must say I haven’t been disappointed by any of them. For community theater, this is a darn professional group. The dancing was spectacular — complete with the gymnastics we didn’t think we’d get to see from an amateur’s ensamble.

I had a great time. That ticket is probably one of the best gifts LB has ever given me. In fact, I was in such a good mood that I consented, without thought, to turning south on Maryland Parkway off of Desert Inn. The moment I made the turn I remembered it was a bad idea — and a worse neighborhood. And anybody who knows where I work and where I run my children’s ministry knows that if I’m nervous, the neighborhood has to be pretty dang bad.

We were going to the Arby’s because LB was hungry. We arrrived in the Arby’s driv-thru 4 minutes after the store closed. LB freaked. “Why would they close at 10 p.m.?” I told her to look around — and that I wouldn’t work that late in that neighborhood. Because of road dividers we had to drive around the block (the blocks are a mile squared) to get back to DI. Once on DI, LB asked me if we could try Taco Bell. I told her I wasn’t turning right on Maryland Parkway again. We ended up at a Mickey-D’s in a much nicer neighborhood.
All in all, the night was quite an adventure. I am back home now. It’s a quarter to midnight, I am humming, Any Dream Will Do, and I am not the least bit sleepy.

After Midnight Contemplations

/ Quilly / 18 Comments

I didn’t sleep well last night. The weather is cooling, so I had the air conditioner off and once again I heard the world beyond the whir. Last night it was a pack of barking dogs, screeching tires from the boulevard, and the neighbor’s rumbling pick up. Most of the sounds only caused a brief break in my sleep, but one of them took me back to another time.

About 2:30 a.m. a rumbling pick up pulled up outside and backed into the driveway next door. That sound made me instantly nervous and nauseous. It is kind of funny in a sad sort of way, because I haven’t had reason to fear that sound for over 15 years.

My exhusband used to drive a rumbling pick up, and on the nights he drank — most nights as our marriage neared it’s end — he didn’t come home until about 2:00 a.m., and he always came home drunk, loud and obnoxious. When I woke to last night’s rumbling pick up, I saw the time and instantly became a different person, living in a different state, enduring a different life. I tensed, waiting for the sound of a key in the lock; waiting for the lights to blaze on, waiting for the yelling to start.

Of course it didn’t happen. In truth I probably only spent a few seconds expecting it. I spent a much longer time contemplating who I am now, and how much better my life is. But still I wonder how I ever ended up in that other life in the first place, and whether I will ever trust my own judgement again.

Just a couple of years ago, after realizing I had made yet another poor choice in men, I told a friend of mine, “This is what my life has taught me: any man I am interested in is obviously not good mate material. I need to find someone I can’t stand. He would probably treat me right.”