Hotter Than a Pepper Sprout

Wanda and I both heard it. Two teams were tied in second place with THIRTY-NINE points. We had FORTY-ONE points. We knew it couldn't be true, there was no way we had won trivia...but... ...except? ...maybe?  we did get all of the anatomy questions and all the music questions correct. And only missed one superhero origin-story question (SAILOR MOON! Duh! I could have at least guessed that!) ...and we did hear wrong. Second place was FORTY-NINE points. (No idea what first place got, who cares, screw 'em, it wasn't us). Ah the thrill of (imagined, brief, fleeting, fantasy) victory, the agony of defeat. At least we solidly lost. It would have been worse if we had been close to winning but lost because I had a major fail on the Robin Williams question. I mean really, "Mrs. Doubtfire" was NOT an 80's movie? It came after "Dead Poets Society?" My Robin Williams-movie timeline is completely screwed. My internal clock is smashed. I knew Chad before ...

I don't believe the James J. Hill House is haunted by the ghost of James J. Hill--or anyone else--but I do like to think that after our three-weekend run of "Talley's Folly" there it will be forever imbued with a little piece of my heart. I had a director once who talked about how every place that we create theater becomes sacred and that the magic can never be recreated in exactly the same way again. I inwardly rolled my eyes at her a bit, but I was also intrigued, and this idea has come to mean more and more to me through the years. It's not just theater but any place we come together to create art and make music and share these experiences as performers and audience members. I've been lucky enough to experience this ephemeral and fragile magic in venues as varied as our church, the Driftwood Char Bar, senior living centers, and our garage (where we rehearsed Talley's this time around). Even a bathroom selfie at the James J. House is elegant Of c...