Beyond Therapy

The above caption names our current show and defines my mental state. If you can’t use your own blog diary to vent, what’s the point? It saddens me that toxic people would try to poison something as pure in spirit as a volunteer theatrical production.But egos have come in to play, and it’s no longer about gifting an audience, but rather who gets credit for what, who’s pissed off at whom and what alliances can be formed that will undermine the group spirit that had previously prevailed at SCT.

For good measure, throw in a director who has contributed little of value to the finished product, but who has grandstanded in the press and bad-mouthed the company to prominent community members. Sprinkle in a mediocre actor who loves to throw temper tantrums and bake at high heat by reading a barrage of insulting e-mails slung in every direction.

It is hard to handle this level of emotional drama when one is rested and refreshed. After a grueling week of set building, light hanging, and watching an unprepared cast struggle through basic dialogue, it becomes completely draining. Through it all, I have tried to take the high road. I have done what I could to make the show better, even though it meant asserting authority at times when I would have preferred not to. The result: a play that the audience has enjoyed, a lot of hurt feelings, personal exhaustion and some broken friendships. It didn’t have to be like this.

Hot Fun in the Summertime

Summer is finally in full swing, and with it – a chance to do warm weather trips.
My boss demonstrated benevolence and gave us July 3rd off. I was able to take a
vacation day on the Friday after the 4th, so I was on road for 7 of 9 days last week.
Yee Haw – now that’s living.

First up, the annual Fourth of July Reunion in Oak Cove – Clearlake, CA, that is
Due to a phone system meltdown at work, I wasn’t able to leave the office on Friday until 7:30 pm. Then I spent several hours baking oatmeal cookies and preparing artichoke/egg dip for the lake festivities. Bottom line: no crack of dawn departure on Saturday, as I hadn’t finished packing. I did manage to scoot out of town by about 9:30, which meant I had no time to waste on my 338 mile drive if I was going to arrive at the lake cabin between 3:00 p.m. and 4:00 p.m..

I had scouted out the shortest route on Mapquest, and stocked with a muffin and orange juice hit Hwy 395 North. I cutoff at Monitor Pass (spectacular as always) headed through Luther pass into Meyers, where I was unable to turn left due to the thousands of folks pouring into the Tahoe Basin. A right and a u-ie put me on 50 West and I didn’t stop until I hit Placerville for a corndog snack and a brief stretch.

The drive through the San Joaquin Valley was uneventful and without interruption until I stopped in Woodland to top off the tank and grab a cold sixer of Pacifico to herald my arrival. I exited Interstate 5 north at Williams and did the short jog over to Clearlake Park and was on Plumas street by 4:00 p.m. That was, by far, my shortest drive to the lake (I usually meander through Sierra canyons to get there, and it takes a century.)

The welcoming committee included Jerry, Kathy, Carole, Sara and her boyfriend Brian. He was the only one who took me up on my offer of a cold Mexican brew, so of course I liked him immediately. We spent the next few hours getting caught up and then I pitched my tent on the dead lawn facing the lake. At seven, the neighbors came over and we had a really pleasant evening sharing a potluck barbecue and viewing the fireworks that were being shot off at Austin’s beach. Brian loved my artichoke/egg dip – he’s a keeper.

Then the entertainment for the evening began. Lights flashed on and off in the “ghost house,” a usually unoccupied hillside home across the cove. This was a big event, as no one had ever seen lights on in the house before. Next the main room lights went out, but there was a strange strobe flash that kept appearing in a rear window. The entire group of mature adults strained and craned and hogged binoculars while venturing guesses at the nature of the strange flashing. Some great ideas were entertained: a nude photo shoot, the Bunsen burner from a meth lab, an indoor bug zapper. At one point the front room lights flashed back on and the entire group let out a shriek. This is what people do when they have no access to television.

The next morning, Carole and Sara joined in as I made the traditional sojourn to Java Express for my morning fix. Jerry and Kathy are not coffee drinkers. We headed back to the cabin (after the mandatory stop at Castle Donuts and a little spin through Rite-Aid and Safeway) where we proceeded to do nothing for the rest of the day. A little swimming, some eating, some walking, some eating, some talking and a whole lot of staring at the water. The Lake County gallop set in quickly.

After dinner we tried to spot the asteroid which was coming close to earth, but of course this was futile as it’s not visible to the naked eye. Jer thought his binoculars might help, but you kinda have to know where to look and all we knew was “North.” There was time for a little more socializing and then I headed off to my guest suite and was lulled to sleep by the waves lapping on the pebbly shore.

The next morning I was awakened by cousin Carole who was kind enough to deliver a steaming mug of Taster’s Choice right to my tent! Soon, Sarah joined in and we all sat on the ground, staring at the lake and greeting the day.

I began packing up as Joanne roped the neighbors into a rowdy game of Jeopardy. I just had time for a quick swim and before I knew it, it was time point Virginella on the road south to Calistoga.

On a whim, I detoured into the Zahtila Winery parking and lot and spotted what I thought was pal Sal’s “Z” under a car cover. I poked my nose into the tasting room, and sure enough he was there, serving up a frosty cold Chardonnay. I ended up staying and schmoozing for over an hour, tasting one delightful vintage after the next. But, I needed to leave as I was now ravenous and determined to get to Taylor’s Refresher in St. Helena.

I got there a little after three, which turned out to be perfect. The line was short and there were ample available picnic tables out back. It was a gorgeous afternoon, enhanced by the blue cheese burger, garlic fries and iced tea. I could have lingered forever, but I had many miles to go – so it was back in the car and a non-stop jam to Reno over Highway 80.

The bad news is, when I got to the Silver Legacy they had no non-smoking rooms available. It was the most crowded I had ever seen Reno, with gazillions of Vietnamese tourists (I’m not sure why) and a big bowling competition. My room was indeed stinky, so I called housekeeping to send up an ionizer and some spray and I headed out into the crowds.

I had an ice cream cone for dinner and wandered around somewhat aimlessly. There was really not much going on, despite the hordes of people. I finally just headed back up to the room, which was now undeniably fresher, watched some TV and hit the hay.

The next morning, I packed up in time to see the end of the Fourth of July parade down Virginia Street. Much more hometown than expected. After a huge $2.99 breakfast at Cal Neva, I strolled over to Wingfield Park to hear patriotic music performed by the Reno Master Chorale and Muncipal Symphony. It was pretty bad, musically, but a wonderful way to spend a Fourth of July afternoon. I walked around a bit, watching the kayakers and then headed back to the car in preparation for the drive home. First of course, I stopped at WinCo Foods and got a month’s worth of provisions for $40.00.

The last leg of the journey was uneventful - just another spectacular cruise alongside the Sierra crest. I almost hit Bridgeport in time for the fireworks – but decided to keep going as I had already done pyrotechnics and nothing could beat the Disney display. I made it home early enough to chill a bit before the hitting my own bed again. Only two days of work ahead and then . . . Boise!