SST: B - Beard

Note: I planned to write/post this last night at the theater during my dress rehearsal, but I kept losing the internet signal. So I'm turning my SST assignment in late for half credit.

SESAME STREET TUESDAY

For many years I have worn a beard in March. The reason is usually because of an opera role, including last year and the year before (aka "The Mustache Era"). This year, however, I decided to grow a beard despite an opera role. On January 23rd, the day of my first recital, I shaved for the last time. Normally I keep my beard neatly trimmed, but this time I decided to just let it grow out, partly out of curiosity and partly because I couldn't find the charger for my beard trimmer. I was kinda hoping that it would end up looking like this:



But alas, my director staged a beard intervention on Sunday (totally saw it coming) and after 64 days I finally had to trim it down. I didn't think it looked too crazy most of the time:


However, if I did want to go nuts with it, I could fluff it up like this:

In the end my director and I compromised and he said that I could keep a goatee, in my director's own words, "like when George Clooney has a goatee." So I shaved it down and here's how I look now with the goatee:

Not too shabby, eh? However, I look a little different once I'm in costume:

Funny how different I look here - must be the scarf.

P.S. - In my first area on my mission I lived in a neighborhood of Campinas named "The 31st of March." I asked many people in the neighborhood what significance the day had, but nobody had an answer. Brazilians like to name places after random days of the year - our mission office was on the street "The 10th of September" and one of the main thoroughfares in Piracicaba is "The 15th of November." Piracicaba named their pro soccer team after that street - can you imagine a sports team named "The 15th of November?" Most people just called them "The 15."

So if any of my Brazilian friends who live in "The 31st of March" are reading this post, I hope you have a lovely namesake day.

Russian Roulette

Last night there were two conflicting events that I wanted to attend: a ward activity and Armide, the University of Michigan's spring semester opera. So I went to the ward activity first and then ran over to the Power Center to slip into the opera during intermission. The timing worked out perfectly - I found a seat mere seconds before the second half started. I know practically everyone involved in the opera, so when a bunch of unknown actors stepped out on stage I was a little bewildered. I whispered to the lady next to me, "Excuse me, can you tell me what show this is?" "Uncle Vanya."

Oops. Turns out Armide was playing across the street at the Mendelssohn Theater. I just got on auto-pilot and went to the Power Center because every time I've been in the audience at the school's operas since I came here in Fall '07 it has been at the Power Center, and every time they've performed in Mendelssohn I've been in the opera.

For a moment I contemplated getting up and running across the street to catch the opera, but then I realized that watching a Chekhov play performed in Russian (with supertitles) by the world-famous Maly Drama Theater of St. Petersburg was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, so I decided to stay. And I'm really glad that I did. A few summers ago I went on a play-reading binge and read several of Chekhov's plays, but I had never seen one performed. The performance was absolutely fantastic - funny, sad, moving, and thought-provoking - and the acting was phenomenal. When it was over I ran across the street to the Mendelssohn Theater and caught the end of a panel discussion with the cast of Armide, so at least I got to see them in some form.

This is not the first time that I just randomly stumbled into a very cool performance. On a high school trip to Europe I wandered into a cathedral on the Grand Canal where a string quintet was rehearsing this heavenly Vivaldi piece and it was unforgettable. My favorite movie-going experience of my life happened later on the same trip when a friend and I happened to walk past a movie theater in Vienna minutes before a one-time-only screening of The Third Man (the theater was located right next to the iconic ferris wheel and afterward we went and reenacted one of the movie's great scenes). One time I took a random day trip to Ontario, and I somehow ended up seeing a spectacular production of the Gershwin revue My One and Only at the Stratford Festival. And there was that time in São Paulo when I wound up seeing a film and a Q & A panel at the Latin American Film Festival.

What do all of these experiences have in common? They all happened while I was traveling. When I accidentally saw the Russian play last night it made me wish that I would be more adventurous when I'm at home. Surely in a place like Ann Arbor I could be having great unexpected experiences like that on a semi-regular basis, right?

*****

Speaking of going to see shows in Ann Arbor, The Gondoliers opens on Thursday and I'd encourage you to come see it. The show is funny, it's in English, and it's got great music. I just got an email a few minutes ago from our publicity officer with a link to this preview on AnnArbor.com.

If you still can't get enough of me after The Gondoliers, you should come see my final dissertation recital on Tuesday, April 6th:

If you can't tell from the poster (designed, like all my awesome posters, by my sister Amy - although I drew the flag in MS Paint, dream blog-style), it's an all-Brazilian affair. This is music that doesn't get heard all that often, but it is as colorful, varied, and beautiful as the land that it comes from. I'd be so happy if any of you who follow my blog could be there.

SST: 1-2-3 Rolling Ball

SESAME STREET TUESDAY

Remember this one? When I was little I found this clip mesmerizing. I think that was because I always wanted a Marble Works set, although Marble Works wasn't nearly this cool, and you couldn't grind up the marble into dust at the end. Enjoy!

De-fence-stration

Something terrible has happened to my beloved fence mural:


The damage is so large that it looks like maybe a car went off the road and straight through the fence. As I mentioned in my very first blog post, this fence is one of my favorite things in Ann Arbor and one of the reasons why I choose to live where I do. Last summer I got a chance to meet the creators, who have signed the fence as "Erica and Her Beautiful Friends," while they were out working on a section of the mural adjacent to the now-destroyed section. I was glad to have the chance to thank them for all of the beauty and fun they have brought into my life every day for the past few years. Whatever happened to the fence, I hope no one got hurt and they can soon return the fence to its former glory.

However, I think that the wrecked section of the fence is not nearly as tragic as this section:

I appears that the owners of this house were the only ones on the block who didn't want to be a part of the mural project. I don't know their story, but I whenever I drive by I always feel bad for them - I wonder if they hate puppies and Christmas too. I think we could help them out if we all got together with Erica and Her Beautiful Friends and hit them with a good Care Bear Stare:

Where a Kid Can Be a Kid

My roommate Peter and I have birthdays that are only a week and a half apart (same age too), so he suggested that we have a combined birthday party. "Let's go to Chuck E. Cheese!" was the first thing that popped out of my mouth. I had never been there (I nearly went for my sister's birthday in December '08, but we ditched that plan when my nephew spent the day throwing up) and I thought that after 29 years I really ought to see what all the fuss was about.

I'm not going to lie - I suspected that the party might bomb (though I wasn't half as skeptical as Peter), especially upon first entering the premises and spying one of my professors inside. The sight of this big, intimidating Wagnerian bass suddenly made me feel a little silly as a twenty-something celebrating my birthday at Chuck E. Cheese. Usually I try to carry myself with a little more dignity around the voice faculty, but then I saw him horsing around with his little boy I felt a lot less ridiculous. Overall the party turned out to be pretty fun. In retrospect, I need not have worried - how can you not enjoy yourself when skee-ball is involved?

Mr. E. Cheese himself brought Peter and me a cake

My peeps around the ticket redemption machine

Speaking of birthdays, the song "Backwards Down the Number Line" by Phish has become my favorite birthday song. According to some quick Googling, the band premiered the song in concert on my birthday last year - neato, no?

SST: Name That Food

SESAME STREET TUESDAY

Greetings from Nashville, Tennessee. I've been on a spring break road trip of the South with Amy Jeppsen and Dave Pepper, and along the way we've gone out of our way to have some interesting food experiences. I, for instance, was determined to eat at the infamous Waffle House (pictured left), which is conveniently located on every other block from Kentucky on South. We stopped at a Waffle House just over the Georgia border and it was quite the experience: it was just as cramped and outdated inside as it looked from the outside, the food was just as greasy as I imagined, and the patrons were just as, um, "interesting" as I imagined. "Y'all've never been to Waffle House?!?" our waitress asked incredulously. "Hey everybody, these folks've never been to Waffle House!" she announced to the whole restaurant. I overheard the family ordering in the next booth over, and the mom said, "This brat here will have pancakes and this other brat will have waffles..." I had my very first biscuits and gravy and my first real southern grits, and also had a fascinating life experience.

Upon meeting up with our friend Jessica Allen in Atlanta, we went to lunch at this place that I had seen a few years ago on a PBS documentary ("A Hot Dog Program") called The Varsity. It is this unbelievably huge and unbelievably busy fast food place/Atlanta institution where the cashiers famously take your order by shouting at you, "What'll ya have, what'll ya have!?" The picture on the right shows only a portion of the main ordering counter, and then there were six or seven dining areas that branched off of that, and every single table in the whole joint was packed. I got this chili-cheese-slaw-dog with onion rings, and while it was amazing, I could practically hear my arteries clogging as I ate it.

To take a break from the the greasy, greasy southern food, Jessica took us to a Cambodian restaurant for dinner, another first for me. Jess served her mission in Cambodia and she used her expertise to guide us through the meal, which I ended up liking it quite a bit.

When we got to Nashville we were back to greasy southern food. where we went to a soul food joint that Amy's friend suggested. It was off on a sketchy side street in a questionable part of town, and we were definitely the only non-locals there. I got me a rib sandwich, which was a fat ol' slab of ribs stuck between two sad slices of Wonder bread that got way too soggy to eat, so it was essentially just a plate of ribs and pickles. They weren't exactly fall-off-the-bone good, but like most of our food stops along the way, the experience was worth it even if the food wasn't the best.

Although there are certain specific foods I still am not open to (I'm looking at you, mushrooms and tomatoes), I love to try all different types of cuisine:



While I like to try new foods, sometimes I have to draw the line - like with this gum-covered pole on the Stone Mountain trail in Georgia. However, I should have something much more appetizing to lick later today when we visit Las Paletas, a famous Mexican popsicle place here in Nashville (they beat Bobby Flay in a popsicle throwdown!). So until next Sesame Street Tuesday, bon appetit!