May 21, 2004

I am lying in bed, propped up with our Jersey pillows, sweatsuit bedecked and wool sock warmed, munching on toast and sipping tea that Sam stumbled downstairs to make me earlier. My throat feels like sandpaper. No matter how much I drink, it is still raw and dry. My nose is stuffed and if I breath in too deeply I get the just-about-to-cough feeling.

The tea and the computer are keeping me all toasty warm. Today is cloudy but bright, and the curtains are open. The lantern above my bed is on, and I find the mixture of daylight and incandescence quite pleasant.

I really have to give it to my vitamins. I'm usually a snuffly kind of person all winter and spring, but my new vitamin campaign has kept me in an unusually tip-top condition. So I really can't blame my vitamins for failing to keep this cold at bay, especially since so many friends have recently been down and out. And it wouldn't be so bad to have a day or two of warm bed hot tea sappy movies, but in the back of my head I can't help but remember that I have a show tonight. And two tomorrow. And two the day after that.

Yesterday morning we had a school show at the theater. Several buses pulled up and about two hundred kids filed in, babbling excitedly and bouncing on their seats. We sat just behind the curtain, stretching out and checking the focus on our masks. And then, from out of the chatter, all of the children began to sing a haunting Native American song about caring for the earth. We all smiled at each other, surprised. The kids then burst out in This Land is Your Land in enthusiastic, cherubic voices. We applauded them when the finished the song, and they applauded right back. It was great.

At the moment, the computer is on my lap, my hands are lying on the palm rest, and the cat is lounging on my arms and chest. He has made himself quite comfortable here, and is currently cleaning his ears with his paw. I keep having to move my head to see past him to the computer monitor.

When Abeeza first adopted us he was scrappy and guarded. He would ask to be pet and then scratch us. He never ever purred. Now that he's lived with us for over a year, however, he's gone through quite a transformation. He follows us from room to room and will sit directly on top of us if we happed to sit down for a moment. When we pet him he gets as loud as a lawnmower. He hunts birds with a jungle-like ferocity, and then happily brings them - alive - to our doorstep. When he is sleeping and the sun comes out, he covers his eyes with his paws. He meows when he wants lovin'. When we pet him he kneads our bellies and makes snuffling noises into our arms. He loves to curl up next to us, toes twitching with an occasional dream.

Our friend Sarah who lives across the street recently told us that Abeeza has a reputation in the neighborhood. As the alpha male, his favorite activity is to kick other cats off of their porches and sit there for a while before moving on to a different cat and a different porch. Sarah says her landlord calls him Chang. "Uh-oh. Here comes that Chang. Look out, Nutmeg." Chang?

Last night's show was like Waiting for Guffman. A man came up from California who may be interested in producing Frogz in all sorts of neat places. The house was packed and we were on our best behavior. The show rocked. Broadway, here we come! Hollywood, bring it on! Well, we'll see …

OK, I'm off to do not much of anything. Maybe I can talk Sam into renting me a nice romantic comedy…

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