Things I've learned from being a concubine:
- it's hard to navigate steps in a long billowy gown and ballet slippers
- it's way harder to get on somebody's back in a dress than in pants
- if the wig staff tells you you're not allowed to have the top of your hair trimmed (for fear that your wig will have nothing to anchor to if you do), you can still cut the back of your hair with kitchen shears. without consulting a mirror. no one will notice.
- having 3 feet of hair is really fun, but also really warm
- with long hair, stage makeup, and without glasses, my face takes on significantly longer looking proportions
- if your concubine costume is a virginal nightgown, people will complain that you're not naked enough
other things from this weekend: the quiet rainy walk up the park blocks; farmers' market lilacs and plant starts; kids playing little league in westmoreland park, in crisp white baseball pants and green shirts; planting the first of the balcony garden's vegetables; a reassuring hand on Cookie's withers as she stands bolt upright, nostrils flared, and stares terrified at the giant yellow bulldozer she's never seen before (but, obediently, does not bolt); cups of tea, bites of chevre, bowls of warm oatmeal with strawberries; movies on the couch; two Pulitzers read.