Embarrassment of Riches
I'm feeling really blessed right now. Maybe it's just mania? My sleep is crap at the moment. Jennifer's Convertibles? House of Futons? Sleep Train? My insomnia is fueling my indecisiveness and vice versa. Would a Sleep Train bed speak the same language as an Ikea table lamp? Could a Pier One Imports rug translate?
We had our annual end-of-the-year Super Party last night. It was a very swellegant, glittery evening! The venue this year was the Golden Gate Yacht Club, right on the Bay. One of the supers is a member, so that was our in.
Madame Glinka does love the yachting set. She has Topsiders in every color.
For the party entertainment, traditionally a bunch of supers do a skit, based on the amusing moments of the past season, and I have been involved in that for a number of years. It's a hit-or-miss affair, a lot of work and very nerve-wracking. This year, however, in keeping with the elegant theme, two talented opera singers, Matthew Treviño and Brian Frutiger, were engaged to give a little mini-recital after our delicious catered din-din. Boy, did I enjoy just sitting back and listening to good singing.
In addition to some captivating arias, we heard "Stranger in Paradise" from Kismet (oh, how the Madame can relate to that tune!) and "Some Enchanted Evening" from South Pacific.
SWOONS!
I also got official recognition from our Super Captain, Carrie Murphy, for my excellent Gator Work in Magic Flute for Kids.
And last but not least, the party was blessed by the friendly presence of both our outgoing Artistic Director, Pamela Rosenberg, and the new incoming Director, David Gockley, who is taking over the reigns here on January 1st (not a moment too soon in some people's opinion).
Their attendance was a big deal-- we supers are often made to feel like the unwanted step-children of the San Francisco Opera, so it was way cool that Mommy and Daddy showed up to our party and were nice to us!
Need a few more winks, later Gators...
posted by AlbGlinka @ 7:11 AM
4 Comments:
Congratulations on being singled out, Gator. I believe Miss Carrie called you the "Joan Crawford of Gators," whatever that means, but I'm sure it was fabulous.
The Golden Gate Yacht Club was certainly lovely, though a bit claustrophobic with so many people crammed into the space, and the buffet din-din was exquisite too.
Still, I missed the bad super skit (the two singers didn't work for me since I'm feeling a bit opera'd out), and I'm still in an absolute tizzy about the Nude Blue Dudes in "Norma" not being recognized by a single award. I mean, heck, somebody got stabbed by a fellow super in our show, another one bonked the Oroveso on the head with a wooden spear, and the over-the-hill blue butts deserved a special award all of their own. Ah, we were robbed, I tell you, robbed.
Well, I think you're the greatest gator in all of gatordom.
Really. I do.
Life feels right and normal again when I get the opportunity to read your glinkieness. :-)
Last night at 3:30 a.m. when I was in my REM sleep, our cat Smoke E let our a blood curling scream. I bolted out of bed, certain that he was being murdered when he went up pushed his food bowl at me (that was full at 10p.m.)and looked at me as if to say "now wench!". I will never understand how these furry creatures think they can command such control. I have come to the conclusion that he's bulemic. Seriously.
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