Sunday afternoon was the last opera performance. (We did Carmen, and were in rare form!) No more leering at Merry Widow grisettes--of course, I was it wasn't me who was leering at them, I was only playing a leering character! What new reason will I find for returning next year?
For a change, I went to the cast party afterward at Paula's loft near Dufferin Streets. (Paula was one of our Carmens, and she's also an artist!) They had a lot of that churrasco chicken with the orange-colored rice.
I'm still not completely over my cold, so I skipped the memoir group again this week. (I hardly ever skip it!) This evening I went to Loblaw's and bought four of those huge pomelo grapefruit.
The third episode of Six Feet Under is a doozie! That's the one where a guy cleaning an industrial bread machine gets cut into a thousand pieces, and Claire's boyfriend has carelessly blabbed around high school that she sucked his toes, so she swipes the guy's foot and puts it in the creep's locker, then he dumps it in the park where a dog eventually finds it! (Meanwhile, mother Ruth blows 25 grand at the racetrack.)
I was dreaming about the actual incident when I was twelve and painting a bunch of blue squares as my first assignment in art class, then got 1 out of 5 because the edges were messy. Really, I'd never been in an art class before and thought that just getting it done was an achievement! What bugged me was that this was the only time the art teacher graded our individual assignments, which meant that people like me didn't get the chance to earn a better grade next time. She only graded that first assignment to start out the year with a show of power, as bad teachers are wont to do.
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