In Pursuit of a Photo

I watched a bride hold her dress hem out of the puddles and was reminded of this story. My friend got married and I was one of the bridesmaids. It was one of those years that seems to happen at least oncebin everyone's life where a number of weddings and such occurred. I think I ended the year having attended seven weddings.

But this wedding, the women got ready in my friend and her soon to be husband's house. We went off and got our hair done together in a salon that was not really set up for quite that many bridemeaids to descend at once. And then we all came back to the house for the pictures.

The day was sunny so we took a bunch outside on the front lawn. There was a wooden porch swing and the photographer suggested the bride sit so we could all cluster around her. 

She did. The photographer determined the photos done and headed to the church. We headed back inside to grab our things before going to the church ourselves. The bride was ahead of me and her sister going back inside. I had a great view of the dirt smudged across the back pf her dress. My plan was to get inside, grab a paper towel and let the bride know. Her sister foiled my plan by gasping and saying something to the effect of "Oh no, your dress!".

My friend tried to look, but it is hard to see the back of your own dress. She looked at me. "How bad is it?"

"It's fixable," I said.

We did go to work inside. My friend said, as we carefully blotted her dress, "I knew I shouldn't sit on the swing."

So all of this is to say, if its rainy and puddles outside and your photographer wants to take pictures of your floor length dress, you can say no. Alternatively, I have taken pictures in the freezing cold, pretending I wasn't could ting the seconds until my coat went back on. 

I know folks who find the damage their dress incurred on the big day, mementoes. So, you do you. But you don't have to sit on the swing.

Three Interesting Things

1. Neil Gaiman solicited ideas of warmth and home and wrote a poem to be knitted into a scarf in honor of refugees.  The poem is indeed warm. 

2. I fell down a TikTok hole earlier this year.  This makeup tutorial chatting about genocide, was apparently an attempt to combat censorship.  Either way, it cuaght my attention and gave me hope, gen Zers know how to work around the system too.  A useful skill.  

3. Since it's Gingerbread House Day, it's the perfect day to take a look at Gingertown, a competition for architectural teams to make ginger delights. This year included a Venice theme. 

You Don't Know What's on That Phone

So I recently had an experience where someone made a particylar point prior to a theater performance to tell me and only me, like the person leaned forward across another patron to tell me, that the performance was starting soon and my phone should be away.

I would like to make the following points. 

The sign this person held actually said phones should be silenced and my phone already was.

The reason the sign said phones should be silenced and not off or away is because this theater has an app that provides closed captioning. You can download the app on your phone and use it to help enjoy the show.

Similarly I have seen museum tours, and more info QR codes in places. Also, someone's phone did ring during that performance. It wasn't mine.

But back to the point, there are an increasing number of scenarios that in places where you previously managed ght have expected phones to be away, phones can be used to enhance and expand the experience one is participating in.

It's boring and silly to assume people on their phones are not participating in the experience around them.

Also, even if they are, so what? I care about the person who's phone ringtone interrupted things, but for all I know that was a really important call.

Three Interesting Things

1. This deep dive into the idea of authenticity in food is fascinating. 

2. I am still making my way through City Paper's People Issue, but it contains a bookseller, so I am in.  

3. It's Book Concierge season at NPR, and there is access to past year's data too.  So.  Many.  Books.  

"Dear Jack, Dear Louise" at Arena Stage

Content warnings: offstage war sounds, period appropriate use of the word crazy

The show takes place during World War II, as the titular Jack and Louise begin corresponding and, well, the fact that there are two actors for ninety minutes, coupled with the program note that the playwright was inspired by his parents wartime letters, I suspect it will not surpise you to learn it goes well.

Epistolary stories are a tricky thing to pull off in live theater. The two actors are speaking almost exclusively to each other throughout the show, and yet not looking at each other. They look out at the audience. 

I normally think in most shows, it doesn't much matter which side you sit on. For the entire first act and most of thr second, I was on the Louise side. Louise is the passionate firecracker who wishes to be a Broadway star. Jack is a doctor stationed initially in Medford*, Oregon and then later elsewhere. Jack is shy, although when his family gets wind that their suggested correspondence might be going well, they invite Louise for a visit and he manages to stage manage good family behavior as much as possible from afar.

They are unable to meet due primarily war reasons, so must rely on letters and occaisional relays of info from other folks they have in common.

I mention that I was on the Louise side because it meant I was able to see more subtleties in the actress Amelia Pedlow's performance. Probably folks on the Jack side (Jake Epstein) caught more of his.

I was caught up and cheered and worried for them even though, I had read the program and had suspicions of the outcome.