Last night at the opera rehearsal we started blocking Fidelio onstage. We got placed for the scene where the prisoners come out into the courtyard. I was one of the people who volunteered to sit, and the director warned us against crossing our legs, which looks too healthy. (He wants us looking decrepit!)
It turns out that we won't be handed out opera tickets to peddle like in past years. I'll have to buy them online and then sell them, but I'm pretty sure I can sell close to ten.
I'm already backsliding on my New Year's resolution not to nap in the daytime! (Shame on me.)
Next week is the next History Meetup, and I still haven't finished that book about the Middle Ages. I need to get a move on!
Sunday afternoon Moira was watching Robert Altman's western McCabe and Mrs. Miller, in which our memoir group organizer Selia had a tiny acting role. (She didn't get to deliver her line.) At Monday's session I asked her about filming that movie, and she says Warren Beatty was chatting her up, pretending to be interested in the tintype pedant she was wearing. She also heard talk that Julie Christie went both ways and was interested in her, but she didn't reciprocate.
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