Today at 3 p.m., the pug and I make our stage debut in Talking With at Tampa’s Carrollwood Players. We’ll be performing a monologue, which means we can make the whole thing up as we go and no one will know the difference.
If you’re in the area this weekend, swing by and watch us flake out on stage. (Literally. My part is supremely flaky. I think I was typecast.) The show runs again tomorrow (Sunday) at 7:30 p.m.
Last night after dinner, my sister’s parting words to Cubbie were “break a paw.” By the way, the pug is the only male performer in the cast. His dressing room demands include medium-sized Milk-Bones, white popcorn and a small boom-box playing James Brown’s greatest hits.
About 30 seconds ago, I received a text message from my dear friend Loren, who last night dreamed I owned a big black pet lizard. Lizards freak Loren out, so the reptile was not well received. It was the size of a chipmunk and it clung to her arms. When I walked away, it jumped into a bag of groceries. Loren, unaware of the lizard’s whereabouts, set a jug of juice inside the grocery bag, inadvertently crushing the lizard’s back legs.
“I think in a way, I’m supposed to tell you to break a leg today,” she wrote.
PS. I take off all my clothes in the show.
PPS. If you see the play, you’ll know what that means.
PPPS. Photo by Angus McDiarmid via Flickr.