Aliens, Sexual Harassment, and Missing Digits, or How I Learned to Love the Reception Line

Hello everyone...I know a couple of you didn't get my first couple of emails about life at Bearcreek Farms Country Resort and Goodtimes Theatre (oh yes) but I created a group for all these silly updates. If you don't want to get them, if my life is too pitiful for you to want to hear about, just let me know and I won't delete them, but as some of you asked to be ADDED to the list after reading the previous emails from others (they're good for a sympathetic laugh, I hear), I'm hoping I can keep it interesting for you.

So here we go...the latest.

One of the less-than-common practices here at Bearcreek is the " 'joyed it" line, or what I've come to call the Awkward Reception Line. At the end of our curtain call (wherein we step downstage one by one and say our names and hometowns, as of course there are no programs), we run up the aisles and stand in the back, while the audience files out, shaking our hands one by one and telling us how they 'joyed it.

A few standouts:

"You look just like my granddaughter/daughter/niece/friend" A couple of people have even taken pictures, just so they can show my supposed doppelgangers that I exist, and that I am performing in a patriotic musical revue on a farm. (I am beginning to believe I was not only adopted, but part of a Midwest cloning experiment).

"You ladies have nice legs, I like that."

(Old man in overalls and John Deere trucker hat) "You girls need any help making all those dress changes back there? (Me) Um, no sir, thanks, we've got it…and it's complicated and pretty fast (Old Man) I'd work really hard, I promise I wouldn't make too many mistakes. (Old Man's Wife) I'm sure you wouldn't, Harry.

"It's exhausting to watch you girls make all those changes. We thought we'd come here and be so bored we'd fall asleep, but just counting all the dresses kept us awake. Thanks!"

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Now we haven't gotten any negative feedback, but I am realizing there is a certain spectrum of comments we can receive. I'll put a few in order for you.

1) Thank you kids so much, this was the best show we've seen here in 10 years!

2) You all have such beautiful voices, and it's so exciting to watch you up there!

3) (Said to Kari, the high soprano who stands next to me in the line) You have a gorgeous voice.

(to me) I enjoyed your dancing.

4) You sure do have a lot of energy!

5) You just keep smiling, don't you?

6) You look really pretty in all those dresses.

7) Wow, you sure do change clothes a lot.

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We also come across characters of all sorts in the Awkward Reception Line. Our typical audience is 65+, pretty typical Midwest couples, dressed in cotton coordinates and comfortable (often orthopedic) shoes. Every now and then, someone a little more memorable will step through the line.

**A few days ago, a lady walked by with her arms crossed, then quickly stepped up to shake our hands. I came to realize she only had three fingers. It was a little disturbing, but I was glad I didn't react visibly. My friend and castmate Brett called it the "sneak attack" and will often help me to relive the experience backstage just before we go on. Whoever says I'm laughing through the opening number is lying, I'm just really really that proud to be an American, it fills me with joy and laughter.

**Last night, an old lady had dentures that were perhaps set really low, or maybe they just needed Fixodent, but they were so low in her mouth, she looked exactly like the aliens from Mars Attacks! (see right).

**Yesterday afternoon, though, I experienced something I had no idea was possible in the A.R.L. A quiet, middle-aged lady came through the line, barely said anything, and after she shook my hand, I realized something was left in my hand. It was a bill. She didn't even seem that excited about the show, but there it was, passed to me Mafia style. I hope she doesn't expect me to kill someone for her. I assumed it was a $1.00, but when the whole line had cleared (as I figured it would be tacky to look at my folded cash while still shaking hands of passing elderly), I opened it. FIVE DOLLARS, people. This raises the grand total of money I've made at Bearcreek Farms to $7.38, as my half of the tips Mary and I made from housekeeping that one Friday was $2.38.

All the best from the cornfields. Now that we're in performances, my schedule is finally becoming regular. I get up at about 7:30, make breakfast, drink some good coffee (thank you, Whole Foods of Cincinnati, Red Sea Blend brewed extra dark...being a three-year Starbucks employee doesn't allow the foolishness of the lame stuff they call coffee in these parts), walk with Louis for about an hour in the mornings--he is fascinated with the baby cows and the horses we pass on the country roads--do some writing work in my apartment, go to lunch w/ the farm boys at 11, wamups and first show, go into town to work out, email, and shower, dinner at my apartment, second show, back for more work and whatever blessing has been bestowed on me by Netflix if the mail is running on time that day. Kinda boring at times, kinda isolated, but I appreciate the regularity of it at least. We're down to one meal a day in the restaurant now, but I found the farmer's market in town, so I actually have some vegetables in the fridge. Maybe next week I can buy some cottage cheese. I've been here for three and a half weeks, and we're getting paid for the first time on Friday. That's right. Maybe I should take it up with the stage manager. Oh wait, we don't have one of those. At least they gave me a window air conditioning unit this past weekend. I had to beg the guys at lunch.