What Happens When 5 Mormons Dressed as Nuns Perform in a Baptist Church?

Just so you can’t say I didn’t tell you –

It’s time for me to again entertain the masses *cymbal crash* as a singing, tap-dancing, baton-twirling, ballerina nun.  

The cast members of Nunsense, including me, were on ABC4 this morning.  

The musical comedy, runs tonight, tomorrow, and Saturday (March 21, 22, and 23) each night at 7:30 pm at the First Baptist Church on 3831 S. 2700 W.  Tickets are $7 each. 

To quote the show, "Though we're on our way to heaven, we're here to raise some hell!" 

My Diagnosis

Over the past two years, many of you have asked me, "Why aren't you doing shows anymore?"

Many of you have come to your own conclusions.  I have told many of you that I felt a sense of closure and I wanted to concentrate more on my personal relationships.  While both of these things are true, there is a third item that I hadn't mentioned except to a few of you in personal, one-on-one conversations.

I have been in pain for almost two years.  My throat, when I sang, would feel as if I had razor blades slicing up and down my vocal chord area.  No home remedy I tried eased the pain...nothing worked except for not using my singing voice.  Because the most severe pain directly coincided with a show I was doing where I'd speak like a boy one moment, then belt out D's the next, I was petrified I had nodes.

You've all seen Pitch Perfect (and if you haven't, you need to).   While they make light of "living with nodes," the truth is they are no laughing matter.  Most singers lose their chutzpah after being treated.  Some are even told they will never sing again.

Can you imagine being told you will never again do the thing you have loved to do most your entire life?  Can you imagine losing the one thing that has always made you feel safe?  Can you imagine losing the one way you feel you can truly express your deepest emotions?

Even though I'm merely an amateur community-theater show-tune lover, the thought broke my heart.  The thought lead me to many nights secretly shedding tears, pretending to others like my plight was no big deal.  Excuse after excuse spewed forth from my mouth instead of music.  Seeing the doctor meant I might hear words that would drop my glass heart from a skyscraper and shatter all of my dreams.  For two years, I have repeated these words in my nightmares, "You will never sing again.  You will never sing again.  You will never sing again."

Recently, I was asked to be a part of Nunsense - A Musical.  I defied my fears, yet with each rehearsal the pain once again sliced me with razor edges.  I'd often feel, "My voice is too tired to talk," accompanied with the thought, "You are an idiot - you could be causing more damage." 

As happens in life, whether emotional, spiritual, or physical, sometimes the pain becomes too much to stand another day without seeking a solution.

I made an appointment with a doctor I felt drawn to for some inexplicable reason.  Immediately, my fear became excitement...excitement that I would  finally know what had been inflicting me for so long.

After making the appointment, I found old e-mails from musically-gifted friends who had had nodes, referring me to this doctor.  At the appointment, I ran into an old friend who, unbeknownst to me, is a doctor at that facility.  All of these things continued to make me feel at ease.

Have you ever had your throat scoped?  Incredibly cool and incredibly uncomfortable. True to my tough-girl form, I only gagged once! 

The doctor quickly calmed my fears, "Well, you aren't Adele!"  No nodes!

But what the heck was wrong with me then?

"See that redness, swelling, and generally raw-looking skin around your chords?  You have Laryngopharyngeal Reflux." 

Folks, I've never had heartburn a day in my life.  I was baffled.  Doc let me know he refers to my condition as "singer's reflux", or "silent reflux," because he finds it most often in singers and we don't have any other symptoms aside from throat pain and hoarseness.   The only treatment is to follow a rather stringent list of dietary rules, sleeping-position rules, and to take medication every morning and every night.  These treatments may not be things I have to do forever, but at least for the next few months.

The best news I could have ever imagined hearing from the doctor (who was so sweet and almost as excited as I was)?

"Yes!  You are free to sing!  Within three weeks, you should be pain-free!" 

I'm not comfortable with the idea of having a "disease."  I'm the healthy girl, right?  The one who always marks the box, "Not taking any medications."  The one who goes to the gym every day.  The one who carries bananas and fiber-protein bars in her purse as snacks.  The one who only gets legitly sick maybe once every two years.  Now I have to put two real pills in my vitamin containers?   Not my idea of fun.

But you know what is my idea of fun?  Singing at the top of my lungs, unreserved, unabashed, and FREE!

Arsenic and Old Lace

How have I not mentioned some very exciting information?!

I'm in Arsenic and Old Lace!  We open Friday!

Any Cary Grant fans out there?  You gotta love him from the old black and white film version.  I'm playing Elaine Harper, the love interest of leading man, Mortimer Brewster.

For the first time ever, I can promise you there will be zero off-key singing or forgotten dance moves in this show.  How can I promise that?  Well, it isn't a musical:-)

As our producer has written:
Arsenic and Old Lace, written by Joseph Kesserling in 1939, is a satirical, dark comedic romp about the Brewster family and the antics of one night. Aunts Abby and Martha care for their nephew Teddy who believes he is President Teddy Roosevelt. At the same time their other nephews Mortimer and Jonathon try to hide a murderous family secret. What follows is a three-act play depicting one 12 hour period at the Brewster home. Arsenic and Old Lace has been a fan favorite for over 70 years and this production will remind you of why you fell in love with this story in the first place … or will make you fall in love for the first time. Come find out why the family that slays together stays together.

Arsenic and Old Lace runs at 7:30pm on March 23, 24, 26, 28, 29, 30, 31 with a 2:00pm matinee on the 31st.  

The show is at Midvale Performing Arts Center at 695 West Center Street (7720 South) in Midvale.  You can buy tickets at the door for $7 or group rates are available by emailing stephanie@midvalearts.com.  

Yes, you may recognize one of the stars of the movie "17 Miracles" in our cast.

Kissing My Best Friend's Boyfriend

It's not what you think.

As most of you know, I dabble in performing once or twice per year.  Right now, I happen to be playing the role of Elaine in Arsenic and Old Lace.  The boyfriend of one of my favorite people, Bekah, is playing my romantic counterpart.  Suffice it to say, there is a scene where Elaine is trying to get Mortimer to pay attention to her and she resorts to the art of 1940s-style seduction (just kissing, folks - no one did anything more than that in the 40s, right?).  Good thing Bekah finds this rather hilarious and just giggles uncontrollably.

Past Year's Resolutions: 2011

When one sets a goal, it has to be something thought long and hard about, something desired with all the heart and soul - not something you do just because someone tells you you should at a certain time of year.

For this reason, setting New Year's Resolutions proves to be a little difficult for me.  I actually don't do it.  I set a goal when I know the time is right.  And don't resolutions wreak with the stench of negative stigma?  I don't want any kind of negativity attached to goals that are important enough for me to make. 

If I had set resolutions for myself in 2011, and they looked something like the list below, I would not have disappointed myself.

1. Win Employee of the Year with an extremely demanding company which has never before done an "Employee of..." anything award.

2. Earn and Perform the leading role in a musical - receiving the final bow at curtain call, also providing a strange sense of closure with my performing adventures.

3. Visit home (Ohio) more than once.

4. Maintain my six-days-per-week dates with Gym.

5. Maintain within 5-7 pounds of my finishing weight when I worked with a nutritionist two years ago. 

6. Organize a trip to New York City with friends I did not know the year prior. 

7. Add X amount to my savings (even through developing an insane and insatiable love for Anthropologie).

8. Continue to blog regularly.

9. Speak in church three times.  (Seriously, what did I do wrong?...or right I guess...)

10. Learn to love more unconditionally - realizing sometimes you must hold tighter and sometimes you must let go.

11. Be part of a radio show.

*Bonus* Have my larger-than-life photo plastered on the sides of  buses, bus stops, buildings, and most importantly - The Capitol Theater! (the theater for touring Broadway productions, operas, and ballets in downtown Salt Lake City)

Past editions: 
2008
2009
2010

Salsa Dancing

Have you ever watched people spinning and dancing all over the floor, shaking what their momma's gave 'em, and thought, "Man, that would be fun!"

I do.  All the time.  In fact, I also think, "Psh...I could do that."  And what better to help me with my stage-withdrawal than to take dance lessons?

So, when Dennis, he of many, many belly laugh inductions, suggested I take six weeks of Salsa lessons with him at Ballroom Utah, how could I refuse?  Really, why would I refuse?

I've had a blast the past six weeks.  Sometimes we haven't paid as much attention as we should, as we are often the annoying giggly duo in the background.  You know, the ones the teachers always ask, "Did you get it?" 

What will I miss about Salsa class?

1. Learning a new dance.  I love to dance!  I love learning new things.  Maybe someday I'll have a beau I can dance with - you never know.
2. Dancing with good leaders.  Dennis is very good at stopping me after the spins -he's the best spinner stopper man.  Jeff with the beard is probably the best leader in my group with the best tempo.  And I am becoming so much better at learning to follow a lead.  I've always struggled with following a man's lead, as I've been paired with some not-so-stellar dancers since the time I was 16 and have had to learn to lead them.  This has been a good experience for me.
3. Laughing at all the people trying to hit on each other or check each other out.  Really?!
4. Chatting with Dennis after class.  Man, I've needed those laughs.  And the upliftment.  Few people in life just "get you," and he does.

There are a few things, however, I am looking forward to leaving behind.

1. Mister "I am man."  This particular Indian fellow was doing a particular move wrong.  I, after being confused by his lead, suggested, "I thought the outside turn was a turn to the outside?"  He replied, "I am the man.  I will decide which direction you turn and I want you to turn this way.  I am the man.   You follow me."  Hmm...ok.  Never-you-mind that your partner will get confused because the particular lead you are doing is the lead for another type of turn.  I tried to open my mouth to just ask him a question, but he kept repeating to me his nonsense about how the man is in charge, very sternly.  So, I pulled the old smile and nod.  Wouldn't it figure that the next time I had to dance with him, he was doing it the way I was trying to help him?  Geez.
2. Mister, "Old Sleeveless Shirt."  This guy is so sweet, truly.  But he swings his arms back and forth while dancing, which makes his leads almost impossible to follow through with with confidence and he is always trying to tell me what to do because he thinks he's super good.  I'm fine with being bossed if the man is better, but...  And did I mention those arms aren't wearing anything?  Yep, he wears those old t-shirts with the sleeves cut off.  He is quite fit, but also well into the territory where he is old enough to be my father.  Put some clothes on.  And quit flirting with your daughter's friends.  Creepy.
3. Miss, "Whole Body Laugh."  WBL is a big girl in all regards.  She is clearly coming to salsa classes to find herself a man, not to find herself some dance skills, finding it more entertaining and flirt-conducive to not be able to do the dance moves.  She does this whole body laugh with every new dance partner she has and may or may not have even sent her friend over to my friend to get his number...that was entertainment.  He's in an exclusive relationship, which the two gals were baffled by because who would he be dating if not his dance partner whom they knew he wasn't dating?  Hilarious.  Now they act all over-the-top awkward.  
4. 9pm start time.  Maybe I'm getting old, but I'd enjoy it more, have more energy, and be able to make other plans for the evening if class started at 7.  

 If any of my man friends ever want to take a ballroom class, I'm in! 

Talent is Hot

That pretty much sums it up.

A beautiful singing voice can turn ugly into hottie.

Wicked mad athletic skills can turn skinny nerd into stud.

Social graces and hosting skills can turn Joe Schmo into "I must get to know."

Right?

Gone to Waist

Some of you may remember my heart attack caused by this little situation.

Would you believe it happened again?

Monday night I teased our costumer that she could take my measurements on one condition - she didn't let me see the results.  As much talk as I give, I still haven't permanently taken off those five pounds I have gained since November and I didn't need additional discouragement.  I accidentally looked down at the paper and saw something that made my head spin before I realized I was looking.

I hesitated  - I didn't want to be disrespectful to her, she is amazing, but there was no way I'd gained four inches in my waist...I hoped.  

"Um...are you sure you measured my waist?  You measured up here (I pointed to my upper ribcage - think right where the bra band goes under the bust)."  Maybe the costumes were empire waist, then the ribcage measurement would make perfect sense, but I've never had a costumer not measure my natural waist. 

She let me know that she measures the smallest part of the waist. "Oh, well that's actually down here for me (pointing to my natural waist)."  She is such a doll and kindly re-measured while letting me know it is difficult because each person is different and I was wearing a loose gym shirt.   Whew.  The new number was the same number as last August - relief!

Why do I blog this - do I think you all actually care?  No.  In fact, I think some of you probably want to hit me upside the head because you don't understand how someone who is not overweight can have such huge issues.  I don't understand it either, I just know it is there.  And anyone would be concerned about a 4-inch increase.

I do think that my theater friends will find it humorous that these unfortunate waist measurements keep happening to me.  Could you imagine my costume coming back two days before open with a waist 4-10 inches too big?  Oy!

Thespian

At my company Christmas party, we had a twenty question company-related trivia game.  One of the questions was, "Who is our resident thespian?"
Obviously me.
One of my co-workers just informed me that several people at her table said, "I didn't know what a thespian was so I didn't want to shout out someone's name and offend them."

Theater A.D.D.

When you are part of a production, you have some down time, but not a lot. If you start a conversation in this down time, the chances of you getting called to the stage or hearing your cue are pretty high, in which case you need to bust your bottom to get there as quickly as humanly possible. This means we are all pretty used to dropping a conversation mid-sentence and running off.
The bad thing is that I've started doing that in other social settings. Perhaps someone is talking and I hear something else that catches my interest....off I wander. Oops. Gotta work on that.

Measurements

I about had a heart attack last night.
I was being measured for my costumes for "Damn Yankees." When I've been measured before, I've had to get down to my skivvies. This wonderful lady, however, supports our modesty and measured us over our clothes.
Especially after all I've been through with nutrition and fitness as of late, I was worried the addition of clothing to my measurements would make those numbers a little bulkier than my mind would prefer.
I hear, "Waist, 36."
I scream (I really should learn to control myself), "WHAT?!?! My waist is 36 inches?!?"
The costumer looked rather startled at my reaction and said, "Yep, you want me to check again?"
Uh...heck yes!
"Ohhhh.....that was 26, my mistake."
I about died.