I act therefore I am....

Backyard on the first day of spring. Beautiful.

There have been other days that might have considered themselves the first, but then it rained again, or snowed again, or snowed and rained again. Today it feels like Spring means it this time.

I'm stealing an hour before I go in to the theater to continue with Tech Rehearsals for Limonade Tous les Jours by Charles L. Mee. Our first performance will be just two days from now. In the cell theater, Chelsea, New York, New York.

Yesterday I found out that The Times (translated for non-NYC dwellers as 'The New York Times') will come to review it. This is about as big a deal as it gets for theater folks in New York. Regardless of whether they like it or hate it (and sometimes they really hate it), the point is, you're on the page. You exist. A really famous paper says so. Of course, it would be great if they thought you didn't completely suck at existing, but at this stage of the game, that's just icing on the cake.

I'm having a stellar year. And since the weather matches my mood, I thought I'd update this poor, neglected blog, which I've kept limping along for four years now.

It began in January, when I flew off to Hilton Head Island, SC to perform the role of Gabriella in 'Boeing, Boeing'. Hilton Head is a resort destination, where a beach meets a bunch of golf courses. Not surprisingly the airline formerly known as 'Hooters Air' used to fly direct to Hilton Head, before they became defunct. During the winter months it's quite subdued, but still very pretty, and the perfect way to kick off the year with a six-week contract. Having explored the wilds of New York City a few times now, Mum and Dad even opted to time their annual visit in with the job, and so I had two weeks of living in the same neighborhood as my parents... something I haven't done for 15 years now.

We managed to fit a lot in; a lovely trolley ride around Savannah, a long drive to beautiful Charleston to see where the civil war began (at Dad's insistence), dinners and brunches, and of course, the play. (Which, by-the-by sold-out and extended). But I think my favourite moment was popping home, starving, between a matinee and evening performance, coming through the door to smell mum's pork chops in plum sauce waiting on the table. Amazing.

The week I arrived back in New York I hit the ground running, with two auditions, training prep for my new job teaching Shakespeare Workshops in schools, my first ever 'Neutral American Speech' student, and rehearsals for Limonade.

Since the end of February that has been my routine. And now here we are about to open.

There are, of course, infinite stories (and hours) between those two sentences. So much doubt, and anxiety, and stress, and a lost voice, and a wonderful trip to Paris courtesy of my incredible brother Brendan, and a million meetings about budgets, and fundraising, and ticket sales, and how to bring it all together.

But now here we are. The show will go on. As for the rest, who knows?

Just Yesterday I put my sister Cynthia and seven year old niece Ana in a car for Newark Airport, after 9 days of having them stay two doors up from us in a bed and breakfast in Park Slope. Again, we fit a lot in. Theater and museums and discount designer shopping. And again, my two favourite moments were feeling Ana squeeze my hand tightly as she sat in the chair waiting oh-so-anxiously to get her ears pierced, and then, having Cynthia in the room, when I received the call from the Hudson Valley Shakespeare Festival to say I'd be playing Cressida (of Troilus and Cressida) in the upcoming Summer Season at Boscobel, should I choose to accept.

Which of course, I did. Immediately.

We hugged in the living room as Dan ran out to get champagne to toast the fact that I now know where my paycheck is coming from right through September. But so much more than that, it's a fantastic part, in a really great play, with a company that feels like home.

No one should ask for more than that.

So all is pretty wonderful from the vantage point of this little backyard in Park Slope. And it's best to capture it now. Because in six months I could be unemployed, and uninspired, and badly reviewed in the New York Times... Twice!

Or it could be something else entirely. Who knows?

Meanwhile, here's some much more eloquent musings on the beauty of theater, and more than that, being able to exist in the moment - courtesy of the lovely Dan.

http://www.ted.com/talks/patsy_rodenburg_why_i_do_theater.html