I hadn't expected to have any big social engagements this week, but a couple days ago I got a surprise invitation to go out to the performing arts center. The mah jongg master had an extra ticket to Stomp, and she persuaded me to go along with her. I didn't really know much about it, even though it has been around for twenty years. I've seen one or two numbers by Stomp performers on awards shows, but that was about it. I almost said no to the invitation, thinking there might be someone else in our circle of friends who was more enthusiastic about it than I. I'm really glad I ended up agreeing to go. What a great night it was! We had dinner with friends of the MJM and her husband, who have season tickets to the PAC, with seats directly in front of my friend's seats. (I learned that not only did this new couple meet and marry in the same big city in North Carolina where we lived back in my librarian days, but they also lived in the same part of North Dakota where we were, only several years earlier. It was one of those fun "small world" moments.) I guess there are some really nice perks to being a season ticket holder, because we were just a few rows back from the stage. Close enough to smell the stage floor once it got wet (there is a performance that includes splashing water, not to mention the dancers are probably dripping sweat).
I expected some awesome drumming, and perhaps a little bit of rhythmic movement along with it. I had no idea there would be a story told, very clear character development, amazing physical dancing, or dramatic juggling, all without a single word spoken. It was loud in parts, as I expected, but there were more quiet moments than I could have imagined. How could I have ever doubted that this would be spectacular? I was impressed from start to finish. Oddly, my favorite "musical instruments" were flexible tubing like the key parts of bendy straws, and the number that amazed me most was when they turned the lights down low and performed a clicking, scratching sound and light show with only a couple Zippo lighters per entertainer. (I don't know what title to give them-- dancer, drummer, juggler, actor? They're all of the above, and then some.)
I'm a worried cat mama tonight. Sure, it has been cool in the house, since we turned off the heat weeks ago and opened all the windows, leaving them open even when it was cold and rainy outside. But Zoe has spent the last day and a half being unusually cuddly and quiet. She lets us cover her with blankets, and she doesn't move. She's not interested in eating. My theory is that she ate a lizard, either a fresh one from outside, or maybe she found our missing skink, and it disagreed with her. If she's not perky in the morning, she's getting whisked off to the vet. I hope that whatever this mystery illness is, she beats it. I don't like seeing her feeling low.
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