tap tap tapas

Last week the 51 ventured out to the pastoral wilds of northern Virginia. It was planned, no worries. We were destined for a morning visit to Red Truck Bakery – our second visit – in order stock up on whatever might be on offer. Last visit it was the rum cake; this visit it ended up being a lovely lemon cake, two focaccia loaves for dinner, and a few snacks. Even though the bakery was pre-planned, what drove us outside the Beltway was strawberry season, particularly the pick-your-own operations. We targeted Hollin Farms for the mid-week visit. The farm sits in an amazingly beautiful valley surrounded by some early Shenandoah low mountains; a valley full of orchards and vegetables. We ended up with eight-and-half pounds of berries that primarily served the house as strawberry shortcake. We’ll certainly be back out later in the season for peaches and pears.

Mid-week took the 61 to Woolly Mammoth for The Totalitarians – a pretty hilarious yarn about politics based in Nebraska. When one of the leads points out that it has the only unicameral statehouse it harkened back to my youth. Well, that and the huge state capitol prop, mentions of Broken Bow and Blair, and what was a general Nebraska vibe. Since we also marry up activities we were forced to down tapas and awesome drinks at Jaleo. It’s not hard to spend two-and-a-half hours eating and gabbing in a place like that; probably our most reliable destination in D.C.

Moving toward Vermont….only ten days.

Oh, there they are…

another year, bound for glory

We've wandered up to Vermont for the week: a fairly easy drive with just three of us (the 61). The boys departed on Saturday for the U.P. so they are ensconced in the cold and surrounded by trigger happy potheads* of near Canada. We pulled the all night drive up Saturday (departed at 8:38p) through NYC (hit the GW Bridge at 12:39), and reached the house in Vermont at 3:58a. Absolutely zero traffic. The total, in case you might wonder, was 735 miles in 740 minutes. I almost made the 'Joe DiMaggio' trip. That time include our two short stops - clearly the 735 minute drive is the ultimate goal.

On Friday night the 61 once again journeyed into D.C. for a show at the Redrum Theater - we must be the only people to have spent two evenings there. This was for The Santaland Diaries (Sedaris) staged for the fourth year by a Joe Brack; great stuff, highly entertaining, and something you can watch and simply hear the voice of Sedaris coming straight from Brack's mouth. He has another play from last summer's FringeFestival that he's taking on tour after the new year, My Princess Bride, which is a one-man version of the movie. When he announced that at the end of the show, L and X just about screamed with delight. I, for one, have never even watch The Princess Bride in its entirety, but I'll no doubt book tickets when he brings it back to D.C some time next year. We used this opportunity to venture to Ping Pong Dim Sum for dinner, which yielded some very good dim sum, drinks, and atmosphere for a reasonable (D.C.) price.

I was planning on doing some type of year-end music roundabout, but I don't think I have the time or willpower to get too deep into it. It's been a nice year for music, and even though I wasn't particularly high on Mumford and Sons sophomore release, it's grown on me over the year. In particular, Below My Feet toward the end of the CD sort of brought me back around to the entire disc. It's a great song, and so my offering is this live version:



Oh, wait. If you don't like that one, I'll incorporate them into this ten minutes of bliss:



* citation: H. reported once from the cabin in the U.P. that he was bored because everyone in the house was watching football (Packers' fans), and screaming at the TV. Henry has zero interest in football. And, he reported, he couldn't go wander around outside because it was dark and the land was roamed by "trigger happy potheads."

lean just a bit, kids. it'll miss us...

There’s ongoing sarcasm on The Hilltop when it comes to self-diagnosing via the Internet. The latest episode was X trying to Google© her way into figuring out what’s wrong with her left shoulder. Of course, the result of this was someone pointing out to her that there’s no reason to internet your way to health when you have Dr. Sam available to give you a professional, and correct, consultation. Why the obsession with figuring this stuff out on your own? Then again, she also researched how to get the family of raccoons out of our roof/attic. That was more successful. I guess I’m good with raccoons, not so much with health…or weather. (By the way, to get raccoons out all you need is some Led Zeppelin and a 100-watt light bulb.)

We had some quick, powerful storms roll through over the weekend – I think it all happened while I was at a play on Sunday (more on that later). I find out today, from someone I’ll call “Brian”, that there were serious tornado warnings up in the Baltimore area - the kind of stuff where the radio and emergency broadcast system are telling everyone to take shelter. (“Brian” was in Baltimore.) Fortunately, he took a look at the radar picture on his smart phone and correctly ‘assessed’ (on a 2”x4” screen) that they were a safe distance from disaster. This is also one of those times when your certificate from fifth-grade weather class doesn’t actually gain you AMS certification. If something bad had happened, and we’re glad it didn’t, the interview with “Brian” and the local news reporter, begun shortly after the house was spun off towards Kansas, would have been pure gold.

The 51 took in The 25^th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee at Keegan on Sunday. It was a romping good time and L. participated on stage as one of the four volunteer spellers. She hung around with cast and crew for about the first 30 minutes of the show, while correctly spelling the two words they allowed for each contestant before eventually having to get them off the stage via an impossible-to-spell word. The last volunteer, when it was his time to go, was given his killer word, which he ended up spelling correctly. Quite funny. As he went to sit back down on the stage with the actors, the “proctor” called him back up immediately. “Yes, Mr. Ed. It’s your turn again, already.” I think he only said two letters for whatever word he was given before getting the bell for a wrong spelling, and was promptly escorted from the stage.

We are in the midst of getting ready for vacation. This also entails X sorting, buying, and packing up and endless checklist of items for the boys’ camp. They’ll be doing their first camp for the two week following our week in Maine. My checklist in the old days simply included: sleeping bag and OFF! This camp requires a sub-contract from REI and four pages of stuff.

Oh, and some kid executed a hit-and-run on Galactica on Saturday afternoon. Fortunately, two people got the license plate and his father was promptly notified by D.C. Police that his car was involved in said hit-and-run. Dad was none too happy and immediately offered up his insurance to pay for repairs. And, I suspect, is still in the process of teaching his progeny some lessons. Both the driver and rear passenger doors are inoperable so we’ll probably be with a rental care for our journey up north.

taxing

Taxes are done, across the board.

I had a discussion a number of years ago with a co-worker: she was dating someone, it was pretty serious, and she was telling us about how he wanted her to attend his church with him. Being an atheist, she had absolutely zero interest in going to his church, an ultra-conservative version, much less any church. His response was to offer a different, less conservative option. Her response was to this attempt at compromise was to dig her heels in at her current position. The point of the story, and the discussion we had, was compromise, and what it means. It isn’t about religion – that’s just my real-life analogy. If two parties start out at point A and point Z, and the holder of point Z offers point O or point M as a compromise, then your sitting powerfully on point A isn’t participatory. You aren’t compromising, or even discussing the option, you’re just sitting on point A. I think about this often while listening to the political rumblings from inside the Beltway.

On Saturday I took in The Agony and Ecstasy of Steve Jobs at Woolly Mammoth in D.C. Mike Daisey has written a number of one-man monologues that I’ve missed in the past: I promised myself to make sure this one didn’t slip by. Daisey is a brilliant perfomer who takes you on winding journeys over nearly two hours of information and irritation. He spent a month in China last year (?) gathering information about Apple’s (and, truthfully, probably every other computer company’s) labor habits. Of course, it’s easy to pose Apple as your foil since the company, and Jobs, cry out for harassment. The piece is interleaved stories of Apple’s marketing / geekdom strategy (the funny bits), and the issues in Chinese factories (disturbing). Daisey flawlessly combines the two into a strong finished product. I certainly won’t miss any of the future shows as they invariably arrive in D.C.

In my desire to re-hash older entries, I’ve latched onto an Andrew Sullivan gripe that’s right up my alley. If you remember this, then you wouldn’t doubt my attachment to this idea. Of course, it’s the same herd of folks that obsess over their smart phones: at concerts, while talking to you, on the toilet, and etc. Yes, I understand that some jobs require constant contact, but most of them don’t – put it down, walk away.

I’m back in class tonight. I promise I’ll try to suffer in silence through the mindless, useless guidance from my ‘instructor’. That was pleasant enough, right?

T

p.s. The World Snooker Championships kicked off this week. I know, you’re as excited as I am…

thor's hammer avoided

There’s a new play on at Theater J here in D.C.: Photograph 51. It’s the story of Rosalind Franklin and her place in the discovery of DNA. Well, her place, her life (I think), and probably the lack of fame she received during her lifetime. Of course, I immediately knew that I need to see it. Don’t judge me.

For those that know me, and eat waffles (could be one-in-the-same, or different people), I’ve become obsessed with the maker of my waffle irons. Vitantonio Manufacturing is/was based in the Cleveland area as early as the in the early 1900s (probably before that…), and made loads of awesome stuff: waffle irons, pizzelle makers, cheese graters, pasta machines, food strainers, etc. All the older stuff, from pre-1960, is fantastic for collecting and cooking (I think I just bought my sixth or seventh waffle iron). At some point, they either sold the company name, or someone else took over, and the products post-my birth don’t seem nearly as high quality, or interesting. Based on the limited research I’ve done, apparently the family split at some point, one side bought out the other, who then started some crap company called Villaware. It failed. I think Vitantonio ended up going under during that same period. Is this too much information?

We took the golden wagon in for a safety inspection ($16) and dropped about $800; living the life of the rich-and-famous.

I have a story that revolved around FedEx and me discussing addresses and delivery options out in British Columbia. It was lovely. I don’t have the heart to recreate right now because I just had an e-mail exchange with the Dean at my school, who irritates me to no end. Fortunately, my co-worker put the kibosh on my body slam e-mail before I hit send. Sometimes, cooler minds prevail.

I’ve had one week off before starting the next quarter. I’ll be working in the kitchen and dining room at the school’s restaurant for the next eleven weeks. I’ll try to bring my smiley face for those nights when I’m on wait staff duty.

school's out for the weekend

While digging around TED.com on an assignment, I came across this gem from Salman Khan. I have issues with schools, which is well tracked somewhere in all this blather, and this is one of the best ideas I’ve ever seen. If nothing else, the idea of flipping the classroom is simply genius. If we took the opportunity to seize this ideal, and implement it, I think we’d see a marked improvement in learning. The more you roll this around in your brain after watching the video, the more the puzzle seems to fit together.

I finally saw Waiting for Superman the other day, speaking of education, and it provided what I expected: a dim view of how we educate, or spend money to educate kids; and, a dramatic ending that brought home just how lost we are. It’s been out long enough so I won’t worry about spoiler alerts: you are hoping against hope that the kids in the movie, who are involved in lotteries to attend better public/charter schools, hear their name called. We aren’t talking about acceptance to private schools, money, loans, grants, and etc.: lotteries that we support for kids to attend public schools. Better public schools. If that isn’t the definition of a lost system, I don’t know what is…

The weekend has been packed and is sitting by the front door. The clans (minus Corey and the two smallest) are all going to see Finn McCool, performed by Dizzy Miss Lizzie’s Roadside Revue, at Woolly Mammoth tomorrow afternoon. I’ve got a gig as a parent tour guide for the open house L.’s school on Sunday afternoon, the North Park clan needs foods since the hunter/gather is gone this weekend, and I suspect there’s more spring cleaning on-deck for the house. I’ll settle for a Caps’ game on TV tonight as my peace before the rush.

Let me close with this about unions and the uproar heard far-and-wide: There isn’t actually a positions that unions are good or unions are bad. Each of the unions has its own purpose, and to intimate either extreme is shallow. That’s that.

spicy review

Time for a wrap.

X is still studying for the Bar but is within about 10 days of having the entire mess behind her. She’ll be testing next Tuesday and Wednesday down yonder.

We all headed to the Farrah Olivia portion of Kora for dinner on Saturday night and were pretty disappointed, at least The Eleven was. If I held up his restaurant at the old location as a 100, I gave this iteration an 85; X gave it an 80 as were driving home. Her stance was solid since one of her four courses was completely off. Pure math on that one. Of course, there’s no way this idea of hosting nights in a largish room inside his brother’s restaurant was going to work well from the get-go. From just a logistical point of view, I don’t know how they separate the kitchen for work even though I tried to peek and catch a glimpse of what was happening in there. Second, Kora isn’t a good restaurant by any stretch of the imagination so weaving something fabulous within it presents all sorts of issues. I’ll give you a few examples. The bathrooms aren’t very nice. Seems petty but when you’re dropping $100 per person then there are some expectations. The bread, though good, was served in the crappy Kora metal baskets with big placemat-sized crinkly paper with maps of Italy on them. The dishware, though it appears to be the same set from Farrah Olivia, wasn’t presented with nearly the detail (or the staff didn’t know how to serve) as the old place. Lots of finger prints on the edges and overall they just weren’t up to shiny snuff. The wait staff was questionable, at best. I know it’s probably impossible to get his old crew back but our section of tables (four) had one waiter and he struggled to keep up….severely. And finally, I held my bitter, pointy tongue to this point…I gotta hit the hostess. I know how catty this sounds, but they are sharing the hostess between the two ‘restaurants’ and her Saturday night apparel was shocking. I need to really sort out the right vocab here – cover your ears or eyes if you are easily offended: she had on some sort of cat-like print skirt that pretty much enabled me to date, to the day, the last time she had a Brazilian. I didn’t need mirrors on my shoes or pretend to drop some change in order to catch a look. Considering that she spent every other step yanking down on the skirt as she walked might explain something. What I found completely strange about the entire ‘skirt’ situation was that as we were leaving, and the hostess station was vacated, she had changed from her ‘skirt’ into a pair of jeans…on a Saturday night. At the hold place, I believe his wife acted as manager/owner/hostess and it was a pleasant, high-end experience; this was more Lady GaGa. Or S*&*chy Spice (that might have been offside) Overall, the food was familiar as Morou’s but it was off a by some margin. C. said he didn’t see him in the kitchen when he peeked so we have no confirmation of his presence. The more I think about the night the lower my score goes – it’s probably more of a 75 by now. Hopefully, there will be a new place soon because there are two serious strikes in the books: the first being the claim that he was ‘cooking’ at Kora and now this misfire in his ‘relaunch’. All of us have Cedar easily jumping to the top of our favorite list.

L. and I saw a fantastic show, The Cripple of Inishmaan, at the Kennedy Center on Saturday afternoon. I’d bought through the half-price booth in D.C. and we ended up in the front row, stage right, which is generally too close for my taste, such a snob. But, upon further review a bit of slumping down made it easier and I had about seven feet of legroom which easily overrides our proximity issue. Every stinking one of the cast members was memorable, exceptional, and dreamy. Perfectly delivered lines with impeccable timing and character-ly enclosed. I’d say it’s probably the best show I’ve seen outside of Streetcar and Lost in Yonkers. Quite pleasing.

** If you’re a North Parker, stop reading.

We had pizza last night that was solid but not quite perfect. The problem was that I was wearing a skirt that was way too short – oh, never mind, that’s another story. The problem was that I tried to build up from my initial idea of Gorgonzola dolce and didn’t quite make it to the summit. I came up with spinach, leeks, garlic, sun-dried tomatoes, Kalamata olives, and a parmesan/gouda white sauce the roast pine nuts. The taste of the cheese didn’t really come through but not because of the other ingredients – the whole thing just feel steps short from my goal. The only other time I started with the Gorgonzola I was able to move on to fresh figs and then have the entire thing come just right.
Right. I’m blabbing.

I’ll leave.

t

** There are no guests at Pizza Night until after the Bar Exam. Time restraints and whatnot.

Time is flying by.

We’ve begun the ‘bar review and flashcard’ process on The Hilltop. I’m once again in the midst of learning about life estates and fee simple stuff. Of course, I’m in it purely for the enjoyment factor – I think X is more serious.

L. and I headed into D.C. on Saturday morning for the orchid exhibit at the Museum of Natural History. The crowds were sparse, as we hoped, so we were able to take in the four small rooms with little interference. It is amazing was a cold, February morning will do for comfort levels in the Smithsonian. We hit a bookstore later and then lunch before she headed off her own way (to the National Building Museum and the Freer Gallery) while I headed into Black Watch at the Sidney Harman Hall (my birthday gift from X). Black Watch is a play on tour by the National Theatre of Scotland and takes place during a deployment of the Black Watch to Iraq. There’s obviously a bit more history in play throughout the show but the heart of it is the path that leads Scottish boys/men to the Black Watch and the deep connection they have to their fellow members; an impressive show. And, the Harman Hall is a spectacular place for a production.

We managed pizza night last night and most stayed for about the first half of the Super Bowl. I ended up watching most of the game since X was off to Dulles later in the evening to fetch G., who arrived about 8:30pm from his week in England.

After we all wander through this week we’ll have another big go on Saturday as L. and I see a show as Kennedy Center in the afternoon and then the North Park/Hilltop crowd return to the return of Farrah Olivia for dinner. High hopes.

so it passes...

Those snaps are X's shade garden along our front walk: May (when planted), June, and July. Quite nice. I took the final picture today as she finished up an afternoon's work in the oppressive swamp heat; and, just before a typhoon-like thunderstorm hit town. I haven't been as habitual with the back shade garden, the veg, or the pumpkin/squash patch. What I can tell you is this: a small deer, who's encountered Pumpkin during a witnessed standoff, has been nibbling on the squash blossoms and my lovely is about ready to get a shotgun and campout on the porch...just waiting and whittlin' and waiting. She did point out, just after her veiled threat, that 'squash blossom-fed venison' might be the hippiest meat you could sell.

We hit D.C. last night for another show and a pre-theatre dinner at Comet Ping Pong. I'd gotten the recommendation from my Mom and after a few weeks it finally aligned for a visit. The pizza is excellent (we had the Softie and the Blossom with smoked mushrooms sub'd for the ham) and both were worth the wait. Speaking of the wait, it was crowded on a Saturday night but we managed to get a bar table that suited us fine. The bartender/waitress got our beers right quick, I went to the bar to order the pizza so as to help out the situation, but we ended up waiting 40 (?) minutes for delivery. Considering they make all the pies individually - including the crust prep - it's understandable on a busy summer Saturday night. But, if that's the norm then management needs to sort out either a better process or get better dudes manning the ovens. Just about any wait will be forgiven to some extent if the product excels, and it did. The prices are a bit steep for the type of joynt - running $50 with tip for the two individuals pizzas and two beers; $38-$40 would seem a bit more reasonable. Overall, I recommend it for no other reason than the pizza crust and great selection of toppings. If you have your heart set on playing some ping pong with the crowd, drinking beers, and hanging out...don't go on Saturday night. The crowd is truly a family set and it's much like what you'd expect in 1977 at a Shakey's pizza in Omaha. I'd imagine that the crowd turns a bit later at night and during the week it might seem more bar like.

After dinner we shot down to DuPont Circle to see Noises Off! at the Keegan. This one takes some patience to develop as it's the first act of a play within a play that's done thrice: first from the front of the house at dress rehearsal for an opening; the second act is about a month later from behind the stage; the third, another month later again from the front of the house. There are loads in ongoing romantic relationships, bad acting, and farce going on that it becomes a bit of comic genius, particularly during the second act. For an opening weekend it was quite polished and enjoyable - and a huge bravo to the cast and crew for working such an active play in a quite warm Church St. Theatre. In particular, Michael Innocenti and Susan Marie Rhea who are probably my two favorite Church St. regulars: they stood out in the heat and comedy.

L. headed back to Omaha on Friday - sans her braces which were removed Thursday - so the house is empty. I don't have my pizza-making assistant for the first time in six months so that's a bit sad. We'll see how her life develops over the next few weeks and where she might end up in the fall.

t

needs another weekend

It was an interesting and packed weekend.

I have class on Saturday afternoon this quarter, from noon to 5pm, so that cuts a large swath from in the middle of the day. At least I don’t have to be there at 8am and it doesn’t infringe on our evenings. As the kids have (or will soon) departed it’s only the two of us in the house; she can come in with me if need be and do some work at her office. My Saturday (and Friday afternoon) class is Garde Manger so it covers mostly cold dishes like sandwiches, banquet food, appetizers, fancy stuff, etc. To open the quarter we made loads of bread (baguettes, rye, and whole wheat) to freeze and store for use over the next few weeks as we create various canapés and whatnot. Unfortunately, I’m just now beginning Baking and Pastry (Monday – Wednesday evenings) so I was trying to learn and follow along with my teammates: big mistake. Everyone in my class has already had Baking so I figured they’d have some basis for production even if it had been a few quarters ago (there is one guy is quite excellent). As with most things, don’t get too comfortable assuming knowledge resides in anyone’s bean. Of course, we are doing all these breads in Baking over the next three days so my own experience will greatly improve. Our product came out poorly, at best. I might knock out a few extra loaves of each in the bake shop so I can carry them over to the other class.

After wrapping up on Saturday afternoon, the 61 went to dinner in D.C. and then to see One Man Lord of the Rings at Woolly Mammoth. Both of the girls are big Ring fans so I figured they enjoy one guy, dressed only in a jumpsuit and wearing a microphone, running through all three movies in a bit more than an hour. It was very enjoyable, even for a non-Tolkien-only-mostly-seen-the-movies-and-never-read-the-books chaperone. I pointed out to both of them after the show that the movies seemed to me to be mostly marching, running, fighting, and horns a-blowing; when reduced to an hour you’d surely discover that I was mostly correct.

I tried to engage X on what she thought the civil engineering/scheduling plan might be for the Orange line and new Silver line Metro trains once they hit East Falls Church station. She actually left the room mid-query to show her waning interest in that conversation.

The 51 hit Eastern Market early yesterday morning and were enveloped in a heat index of over 90° at 9am. We did stop for crepes before making a few passes through the flea market, art/craft/creation stalls (I’ve now narrowed down my cutting board desires) before gathering up our ingredients in the food hall. We ended up with quite a crowd at The Hilltop for Sunday pizza night last night so I had execute some deep mathematical formulae to figure out if I had enough pie to cover five adults and four children. We managed.

mellow drama

I love three-day weekends. X is off at work - not required, as in dress-up the office-is-open required - but stuff that needs to be done. I've fed the hordes, made a strawberry/rhubarb pie with fresh stuff from the DuPont Circle Farmers Market, and I have a a couple of loaves of potatoe bread rising. One of those will get turned into small, thin toast bits and used for a tapas competition I've entered at school tomorrow night. Since it's allegedly an actual Spanish tapas competition (I know...), I'm adding a romesco sauce, asparagus tips, Manchego cheese, and a light anchovy-olive oil. I've some experience in Barcelona so I'm sticking to the tried-and-true of Catalan cuisine. Who knows? It's also pizza night so I'll be back in the flour in the not-too-distant future.

The 51 has been about on a strange, cultural weekend. On Saturday afternoon we headed into D.C. to stock up on cards, notes, and paper at Pulp DC and then headed to Shirlington to see Kites (NYTimes review here). I'd read a bit about it, as well as heard some review on NPR, so I was pretty intrigued by a mad mix of Bollywood and Hollywood action films. They did it well: action scenes, the boy-girl romance you'll remember from Slumdog, dance scenes (though they edited out a few for the American release), and a strangely happy ending. Was it great? No. Was it entertaining? Definitely. I would have liked the extra dance scenes. Last night we headed into D.C. for dinner and theatre: Rosa Mexicano and Gruesome Playground Injuries (at Woolly Mammoth), respectively (WaPo review of Gruesome, here). Mixed reviews on everything; Rosa wasn't as standardly good as normal and the waitress was inept, at best. The show, a two-actor play/story about growing up, depending on another, and the tragedy of life. It grew on me as the evening progressed but I still have it rolling around in my head. Maybe you'll get a later critique, maybe not.

The older two only have about a week of school left at the New School; I have no idea what to do with them for the two weeks between end of school and our trip to Stowe. It may involve them sleeping in and doing a whole lot of nothing.

While I took the gang swimming at Ft Myer yesterday, I stopped at the wall that runs throughout the base and took a picture. There are over 300,000 soldiers, sailors, marines, and airman buried at the National Cemetery - a flag for each one on Memorial Day.



t

the end is nigh

I’m on the theatre a bit of late and this piece in the NYTimes once again piqued my interest. The main article is all well-and-good but the three or so pages of comments are more interesting. We you read, even in the abbreviated encounters with the contributors, are the smallest of insight into people’s lives. I’ve always held the view that live performance, whether rock n’ roll or on the stage, is the purest form of bonding between people; not only between performers and audience but between the audience members themselves. Everyone leaves the theatre in discussion about what they just saw and how it may have injected some new tangle of life in them. The ‘performance’ is more grand than reading – something different and just as special – because when we’re sitting in our seats we see the same thing and our mind’s eye is no longer the prime motivator behind our visions of a story. Whether I’m watching opera, drama, comedy, improv, or a musical, I rarely forget that every moment of the performance is given as a personal gift to me. They are showing me the perfection of their art; and I get to take it home and let if wave in and out of my mind.

I don’t know that I can think back to a play that changed my life. I well remember my first big production was Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat back in the early 1980s in Chicago. My aunt and uncle had tickets and we all drove into the city for the show; I remember my prius and post feelings: first, I didn’t much want to be dragged to a theatre to watch a play. Second, I was amazed at how much I enjoy it. Maybe that’s a “change life” moment but I consider it more as exposure and not genesis, per se. I saw a few shows while living in England but the process work of picking dates, getting tickets, and heading to London was outweighed the enjoyment of the show. Moving to the D.C. area in 2006 would probably merit more consideration in ‘life changing’ theatre than the others. I hadn’t been here too long before WonderTwin 2 hooked us up with tickets to The Tempest at Keegan one Sunday afternoon. Once you live in a vibrant theatre city you realize, if you care much about it, that going to shows isn’t much different than heading to the movies: there are loads of companies and shows running year round. After The Tempest I started looking and organizing the scene in D.C. and subscribing to the Washington National Opera, Woolly Mammoth, and Keegan, while keeping an eye out for bigger shows and other theatre’s play lists. Of all those that we, or I, have attended a few stand out over the last three years (A Streetcar..., aside): The Hostage at the Keegan and Lost in Yonkers at the DCJCC Theatre J. The Hostage stands out because it moved effortlessly between comedy, drama, and musical with all the actors and actresses capable of each style. I find the idea of a multi-talented song-and-dance-and comedy trooper quite romantic. Lost in came to me as what I think of as a perfect ‘play’ (I guess Neil Simon knows his stuff), or what I’d imagine as a perfectly developed stage piece.

Just as with the comments in the Times’ article, I think that we don’t necessarily equate our most important event of any sort directly to quality; oftentimes, the timing in our lives is far more powerful. I can only imagine living in NYC as a child and going to see Annie of Oliver on Broadway when young. Even if you became a live-long lover of theatre there’d never be another that held as strong as a childhood event. I find it an interesting exercise to think back and not necessarily draft a list of best but to gather a group of most impressive.

See? I am staying away from lists.

Happy New Year.

t