So last week was all about coffee and catering. I got quizzed on African coffees as well as greater details about Indonesian and specialties. This is a lot of stuff to learn before I even touch on espresso, only mentioned briefly in a DVD I got to take home and view before doing a take-home. I'm curious how much of this I'm really retaining in my brainpan. I worked two East Meets West catered events, which dovetailed pretty nicely with my schedule. In both instances, I didn't have to work the next day, certainly better than following an evening shift with a 6am one. The first was for a place called Dialogos near the Cambridgeside Galleria in the same building as the Multiculti Arts Center. Then Friday I was over at a private function at a couple's home in Beacon Hill. The stairs were an excellent workout, especially after rebounding and pilates for 1.25 hours in the afternoon. I REALLY felt it in the calves.
Then the weekend was about samba, soccer, services and SNOW. The white stuff had actually piled in Thursday, a day I'd anticipated working but Jennifer called me and said not to bother coming to Flat Black. So I thought I'd do laundry and have brunch in JP. I did the laundry and then imprudently decided to spend an extra hour having coffee, tiny bite and a read. I ended up getting stuck in the car for three hours, only to leave it outside Roxbury Crossing T 'cause the last three blocks were just too much. I'd reached my limit, and wanted to take the T to my gym in Back Bay, but once I got there and checked my email I found out the snow emergency mandated I move my car. I should've known it was an emergency with that kind of traffic cluster, but some civilian in the T said it wasn't if the trains were still running. That teaches me not to trust unofficial word on anything!
So I've been more regular about going to samba class and am starting to feel more comfortable and bold with the moves. I find myself throwing in a few bellydance-like flourishes and wondering if it looks good or really wrong, like an extra hip up-down on the break after three stationary steps. I am SO technical in my descriptions! I haven't heard much about the supposed benefit we're doing for the currently closed Brazilian Cultural Arts Center in Cambridge, which is actually where I took my first Boston-area bellydance class, with Seyyide. I also haven't heard updates from Phoenix about the Bacchae, so I'm letting that all simmer on the backburner.
I do have a west-of-town play. Yes, I heard back from West Acton despite not having a callback, and they asked me to be a girl of the night. Boy, I was touched. I am Sandra in One Flew. I am Sandra, hear me roar! I am "a big, earthy wench" according to the script. We established a blog for communicating about the play, and each response copies to email anyway, but I guess it's equally effective. Everybody keeps posting in character, like Turkle not wanting to rehearse in this weather if no money has changed hands, Ruckly reiterating obscenities and Scanlon deciding to devote his time to bomb-making in lieu of rehearsal. I told them at the reading that I'd fairly recently played a married woman who acted like a drunk prostitute, so I was ready for this. Since I'm only in 1/2 of one act, I have one rehearsal in December and three in January. February may be a little NUTS.
We kicked at soccer Saturday. Since I didn't get my own red BSSC T, Colm let me wear his People's Republic of Cork shirt. "Daon Phoblacht Chorcai". I wish I could put a cedilla under the second C of the third word there. It actually makes a hard noise like a K. I totally admitted I'm not Irish and he was cool. I'm glad we got red uniforms to express our true commie colors. I gotta admit the language intricacies interest me more than the political ideology. BSSC probably doesn't even have fuchsia. Effin' fuchsia. Phatever. Yes, Morecrafty designated us to be the Ferocious Fuchsia, and we are biting in a good way. Coach Father City is quite good in that role. If I feel a little intimidated and I'm on his team, the man is doing his job. It was hard to play front-line defense on set pieces. We'll see if I get to try that again. I didn't know that rule about indoor, the goalie not being able to kick to a teammate past the halfline. It's weird, 'cause while most of my indoor experience was on a bball court in the Reed gym, not a school that invests in athletic improvement, I have played at a few real facilities such as Topsfield and Portland, OR outside of school.
I dug out fairly easily at 8:30 this morning to go to Leon de Juda, and things were a little haywire technically. I did some troubleshooting with Ernst over the phone to get the broadcast going, or rather he did with me, and much had to be redone when he arrived around noon. The cameras themselves were simple though, and everyone was so nice and appreciative. They kept blessing me and giving me large plates of food, and the blessings in Spanish during the sermon were plentiful for the Internet broadcast on sitch a snowy, nasty day.
Then I just crashed for four hours in the sweater I wore to church as soon as I got home.
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