Flying Disks and Sweeny Todd, Nov 15, 2009
Last month, Glen showed me how to use David Wood’s square sander to rough up the edges of the kitchen cupboard doors. The sander failed on me, broke about half way through the job, so I rented one from Home Depot today, a round one. The clerk sold me sand paper disks and gave me a lesson on how to attach them to the main unit, even putting the first one on for me. The disk and the main unit velcro together. No folding, cutting and clamping the sandpaper any more. How easy can that be!
The bonus is that if I finished the job in 4 hours the cost would only be $8 instead of t$12 for a 24 hour rental. Being timed, I didn’t loose a moment but began to sand right away, disappointed when I ran my hand over the surface and I found could not get any results with that sander. No results at all. I turned it over to see if the holes on the sandpaper and sander had been perfectly lined up, as the clerk told me to do, finding instead that he had taken the sandpaper off and slipped it back into the package of four that I was buying. The sanding went smoothly after I got the sand paper attached to the sander … for about 8 more cupboard doors.
I was enjoying the sky as I was working, watching the most beautiful Chinook I have ever seen. The arch in the sky was at least ¾ of the way up and the Chinook wind was pushing black and darkening cumulous clouds directly to the south and the north. I tried to think of words to describe the edges of the cloud that were being pushed back, for they were rolling over one another, layered with depth, differing hues of back and grey, marshmallow like. I was contemplating stretching my arms straight out so see if I would get the diameter of a circle pointing to both edges of the Chinook. But still sanding I didn’t try my experiment.
A sudden jerk and I grabbed tighter to the sander. At the same time I saw the disk on the bottom of the sander spin off the unit, Mary-Poppins-like, shoot upward over the fence, over the telephone poles, spinning in the Chinook wind high over the rooves and landing somewhere on the road beyond, a fence hiding my view of its touch-down.
Curiosity got the best of me. I put down the sander and went to find the flying unit – a good thing for the bottom of the sander had gone with the sandpaper. The charm of learning about house renovations: multiple trips to Home Depot, a trade in for a new sander, learning about the vagaries of rental equipment, the possibility of get an extension on a “4 hours for $8” contract, all wrapped up in one package.
Richard joined me at Penbrooke, doing electrical work. He said that the highlight of his day was with a fluorescent fixture downstairs. When he removed it he saw that it had been piggy backed onto another recessed ceiling light with a coat-hanger. “Coat hangers have a variety of purposes, but this probably isn’t a good one,” he remarked, shaking is head. He has been replacing all of the light fixtures upstairs, and last month, when Trell saw that four relatively new units were coming down, he suggested that they go to the basement, into his rooms. Richard was on an electronic roll for me yesterday, but when he went to make the replacement for Trell an old fear surface in Trell, the fear of a job started and not going to be finished, the fear of living for two to five years in a construction zone, he said. Articulating that conclusion took 3 of us five minutes, a parting of company, then two of us some breathing space, added to which was another 10 minutes of talking, with only one of us understanding the “other’s” side of the picture. Deep seated fears had explode in Trell and it was impossible for me to know where his eruption came from without the dialogue. And still, I am left not knowing all.
I stopped by Wyona’s to fill out Zoe’s timesheet on the way home. Tim and Lurene were there, Tim doing a crossword puzzle and Lurene off getting pizza -- their first day of rest since June when they began practicing with the Victor Mitchell Theatre’s production of Sweeny Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street. Tim played the trombone in the pit, Lurene sang in the chorus, Charise helped backstage.
I saw SweenyTodd from the second balcony of the Jubilee about five years ago. Friday night Wyona and I had our seats in the stalls, front and centre. Lurene had alerted Wyona about the mad scene in Fogg’s Asylum because the chorus had all been told to create their own characters who might have been in such a place in the late 1800’s. Zoe’s involuntary hand movements were on stage, mimed through Lurene, exquisitely patterned. I couldn’t take my eyes off of Lurene: an actress, a singer, a trombonist. Wyona added later about Lurene, that she has been asked to play in the pit for the Mitchell’s January production of Hello Dolly. Too bad she has to have a day job as well, for her life might be perfect if she could only live her night work.
We talked for a while about the production last night as we ate pizza. I told Wyona that though she and I have been seeing the highest quality of the world’s musical’s in London, there was something so vibrant and alive about this production that I would have to put it on par with our other experiences as far as audience enjoyment for me is concerned. I have always been charmed by the less sophisticated performances, in sports as well. I would take a high school basketball game over the MBA anytime.
Friday, the performance by Judge Turpin was so disturbingly licentious and evil that there was something inside of me wanting to call the police. Lurene and I agreed that his performance had been so good that no one even refers to it when citing who did a good job on stage. Jail him, or in this case – get in him the barber’s chair. As well, I told Lurene that the rape scene had been choreographed so as to reveal nothing and at the same time, everything. She said that she didn’t like being in the chorus every night at that point, having to watch on stage, be part of the crowd that gathered near. How is that for performance doing its job -- creating the loathing and disgust Stephen Sondheim intends with music, creating that even in those on stage? How is that for great art?
On a happier note, there were meat pies, every night, to be eaten by the actors, meat pies from SAIT. Lurene said when we went to the Hywood Lunch Buffet last week, “Look, I am even eating the crumbs from my plate in real life, just as I do in the performance as we sing, ‘God That’s Good”.
The last night of the performance everyone had to stay to take the set down, so even the guys in the pit got to try the barber’s chair, the one that shoots people out and down a slide into Mrs. Lovett’s meat grinder and oven. Only one of the musicians was injured as he came down the shoot Saturday night – oh my gosh, life is funny.
The sunrise is at 7:55 today. I have another hour and 10 minutes before that part of my day begins. Hello to everyone on my first try blogging.
Love,
Arta
Last month, Glen showed me how to use David Wood’s square sander to rough up the edges of the kitchen cupboard doors. The sander failed on me, broke about half way through the job, so I rented one from Home Depot today, a round one. The clerk sold me sand paper disks and gave me a lesson on how to attach them to the main unit, even putting the first one on for me. The disk and the main unit velcro together. No folding, cutting and clamping the sandpaper any more. How easy can that be!
The bonus is that if I finished the job in 4 hours the cost would only be $8 instead of t$12 for a 24 hour rental. Being timed, I didn’t loose a moment but began to sand right away, disappointed when I ran my hand over the surface and I found could not get any results with that sander. No results at all. I turned it over to see if the holes on the sandpaper and sander had been perfectly lined up, as the clerk told me to do, finding instead that he had taken the sandpaper off and slipped it back into the package of four that I was buying. The sanding went smoothly after I got the sand paper attached to the sander … for about 8 more cupboard doors.
I was enjoying the sky as I was working, watching the most beautiful Chinook I have ever seen. The arch in the sky was at least ¾ of the way up and the Chinook wind was pushing black and darkening cumulous clouds directly to the south and the north. I tried to think of words to describe the edges of the cloud that were being pushed back, for they were rolling over one another, layered with depth, differing hues of back and grey, marshmallow like. I was contemplating stretching my arms straight out so see if I would get the diameter of a circle pointing to both edges of the Chinook. But still sanding I didn’t try my experiment.
A sudden jerk and I grabbed tighter to the sander. At the same time I saw the disk on the bottom of the sander spin off the unit, Mary-Poppins-like, shoot upward over the fence, over the telephone poles, spinning in the Chinook wind high over the rooves and landing somewhere on the road beyond, a fence hiding my view of its touch-down.
Curiosity got the best of me. I put down the sander and went to find the flying unit – a good thing for the bottom of the sander had gone with the sandpaper. The charm of learning about house renovations: multiple trips to Home Depot, a trade in for a new sander, learning about the vagaries of rental equipment, the possibility of get an extension on a “4 hours for $8” contract, all wrapped up in one package.
Richard joined me at Penbrooke, doing electrical work. He said that the highlight of his day was with a fluorescent fixture downstairs. When he removed it he saw that it had been piggy backed onto another recessed ceiling light with a coat-hanger. “Coat hangers have a variety of purposes, but this probably isn’t a good one,” he remarked, shaking is head. He has been replacing all of the light fixtures upstairs, and last month, when Trell saw that four relatively new units were coming down, he suggested that they go to the basement, into his rooms. Richard was on an electronic roll for me yesterday, but when he went to make the replacement for Trell an old fear surface in Trell, the fear of a job started and not going to be finished, the fear of living for two to five years in a construction zone, he said. Articulating that conclusion took 3 of us five minutes, a parting of company, then two of us some breathing space, added to which was another 10 minutes of talking, with only one of us understanding the “other’s” side of the picture. Deep seated fears had explode in Trell and it was impossible for me to know where his eruption came from without the dialogue. And still, I am left not knowing all.
I stopped by Wyona’s to fill out Zoe’s timesheet on the way home. Tim and Lurene were there, Tim doing a crossword puzzle and Lurene off getting pizza -- their first day of rest since June when they began practicing with the Victor Mitchell Theatre’s production of Sweeny Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street. Tim played the trombone in the pit, Lurene sang in the chorus, Charise helped backstage.
I saw SweenyTodd from the second balcony of the Jubilee about five years ago. Friday night Wyona and I had our seats in the stalls, front and centre. Lurene had alerted Wyona about the mad scene in Fogg’s Asylum because the chorus had all been told to create their own characters who might have been in such a place in the late 1800’s. Zoe’s involuntary hand movements were on stage, mimed through Lurene, exquisitely patterned. I couldn’t take my eyes off of Lurene: an actress, a singer, a trombonist. Wyona added later about Lurene, that she has been asked to play in the pit for the Mitchell’s January production of Hello Dolly. Too bad she has to have a day job as well, for her life might be perfect if she could only live her night work.
We talked for a while about the production last night as we ate pizza. I told Wyona that though she and I have been seeing the highest quality of the world’s musical’s in London, there was something so vibrant and alive about this production that I would have to put it on par with our other experiences as far as audience enjoyment for me is concerned. I have always been charmed by the less sophisticated performances, in sports as well. I would take a high school basketball game over the MBA anytime.
Friday, the performance by Judge Turpin was so disturbingly licentious and evil that there was something inside of me wanting to call the police. Lurene and I agreed that his performance had been so good that no one even refers to it when citing who did a good job on stage. Jail him, or in this case – get in him the barber’s chair. As well, I told Lurene that the rape scene had been choreographed so as to reveal nothing and at the same time, everything. She said that she didn’t like being in the chorus every night at that point, having to watch on stage, be part of the crowd that gathered near. How is that for performance doing its job -- creating the loathing and disgust Stephen Sondheim intends with music, creating that even in those on stage? How is that for great art?
On a happier note, there were meat pies, every night, to be eaten by the actors, meat pies from SAIT. Lurene said when we went to the Hywood Lunch Buffet last week, “Look, I am even eating the crumbs from my plate in real life, just as I do in the performance as we sing, ‘God That’s Good”.
The last night of the performance everyone had to stay to take the set down, so even the guys in the pit got to try the barber’s chair, the one that shoots people out and down a slide into Mrs. Lovett’s meat grinder and oven. Only one of the musicians was injured as he came down the shoot Saturday night – oh my gosh, life is funny.
The sunrise is at 7:55 today. I have another hour and 10 minutes before that part of my day begins. Hello to everyone on my first try blogging.
Love,
Arta
I wonder what sort of damage a sandpaper can do?
ReplyDeleteI was sad to miss Sweeney Todd: Wyona called saying she had a couple of extra tickets, but Dalton and Ceilidh were at Karate, and Anita and Meighan were out shopping. I had heard great things about the production on CBC.