Moving

My wife has finally agreed to move. Probably this year; if not, definitely next year.

This is exciting for me. For one thing, I can now put together an estimate of what the house I'd like to build will look like. There may be many changes before the house is actually built, but the one I've designed is close enough to what I expect we'll build that I can safely use it as a starting point. I can look into stuff that really appeals to me as possibly being a part of this project.

For example, I'm fascinated by the solar shingles that Dow Chemical is planning to release this year. They'll be like regular roof shingles, will cost less than solar shingles currently on the market, will be simple enough to be installed by regular roofing contractors, and will (presumably) look good. Some of the cost of solar will be offset by not having to install conventional shingles under the solar collectors, as is generally done now. And helping to keep the price down will be Dow's use of a plastic surface. Currently, solar collectors, even the existing shingle type, use glass to protect the components--but Dow, of course, has decades of experience and research in plastics, so they plan to use a durable plastic covering instead.

I also like the idea of using slate-look shingles that are made of recycled rubber and plastic, but they're about ten times the cost of asphalt, so the non-solar areas of the roof may receive a less interesting covering. But at least now I can seriously contemplate the pros and cons! Up till now, any research I've done about building materials has been an adult version of playing house.

Now I'll approach everything I do around this house from a different perspective, too. Instead of the nice sage green I planned to paint the inside of the garage, maybe I'll do a pale yellow, as suggested by one Realtor. Plantings will be more for curb appeal than for ourselves...and long-term plants like asparagus or blackberries don't make any sense. (Of course, now I can start dreaming about all new plantings for our new home!)

Even furniture becomes a consideration. If we're going to have a more open floor plan, coordinating room-to-room becomes more important. What size, style, color, pattern, might we want for new pieces? When we chose our current furnishings, we had a 32" TV tucked above the fireplace. Now that it's 50 inches, do we plan the great room differently? I like the idea of the TV disappearing behind false books or something when it's not in use. I'm already planning a hidden door in a bookcase between rooms. I've even toyed with the idea of a narrow opening through which an indoor clothesline could extend outdoors. Whatever else the next house has, it will include some fun features along those lines.

On one hand, it's overwhelming. On the other, for a design-oriented person, it's a chance to start over.

Talk Like Shakespeare Day

Today is Talk Like Shakespeare Day. I should have written about this earlier, so people who read this would've had the whole day to, well, talk like Shakespeare. Of course, you can do that anyway, but it only makes sense if it has an official reason. Or if you work at a medieval style restaurant. Or if you're doing a Shakespeare play.

Most of us, however, aren't working at that type of restaurant (or any type, actually) or doing a play. So our only chance is to do it without getting funny looks is to do it on this Official Day. So, if you're reading this Friday evening, start. Now! There are only a few hours left.

Maybe it's better to start late in the day. It's very hard to talk like Shakespeare. Even if you get the hang of the thees, thous, thys, arts, hasts, doths and the other popular noun, verbs and pronouns, almost every other word has to be changed from modern versions. For instance, "You have annoyed me" might become "Thou hast pricked my curs'ed caddy-piddle", which isn't even legitimate Elizabethan English, but at least bears a passing resemblance to what Will might have said. He did know how to turn a phrase. But remembering those terms, or even making up authentic-sounding words,whilst speaking at a normal tempo, would tax the most skillful knave amongst us.

Anyway, give it a shot. If you go out for drinks tonight, you might try something along the lines of "Hie thee, o serving-wench, fetch me a bottle of thy finest Bud Light with Lime, for my thirst doth need slaking forthwith." (Wait a minute...you might want to cut the "serving-wench" part unless you announce the reason for speaking that way first.) Or, "Verily, by Beelzebub and his fiery minions, those Red Sox surely
are putting an ague in my heart." If you don't get punched, you may get complimented.

Thou mayst even find a lovely lass, with eyes as azure as the deepest chasm in Neptune's sea, who'll fall for that crap. Good fortune to thee!

(By the way, the cartoon above is available on a T shirt, mug, etc here.)

Live theater

Despite having been involved in theater for years, I'd never seen a stage version of Cabaret till yesterday. Well, this was worth waiting for. There was a twist that the director came up with that still gives me a lump in the throat if I think about it. (I can't reveal it, because they may revive the production at a later time--and I hope they do.) For those who aren't familiar with the show, it's essentially a juxtaposition of the anything-goes morality in the clubs of Berlin in the 30's and the rise of the Nazi party. The contrast between the relative innocence of the characters and the coming darkness is powerful. And, as many musicals are structured, the first act is mostly an introduction of the characters and their relationships--you are only hit with the impending horror at the end of Act One, then Act Two turns darker.

We entered the theater, a space in which the audience seating wraps around three sides of the stage, to find the most appropriate set I'd ever seen in the space. I was immediately transported to prewar Germany. the pre-show consisted of the "boys and girls" of the Kit Kat Club serving people at tables around the edges of the stage and bantering with the audience, so we already knew a little about them before the lights went down. Once the show began, the Emcee became our guide through a wonderful evening of dancing, singing, acting, music, lighting and sound. Every phase of the production was top notch, and it fit perfectly in the small space. I've seen other shows in that theater that were meant to be bigger--a production of A Christmas Carol, for example, fit into the space well enough, but really deserved a bigger venue. Cabaret fit in as if the place was made for it--as if the space was, in fact, the Kit Kat Club.

I marveled, as I left the building, at how powerful live theater can be. The last time I felt that I'd seen something that could only be this effective in a live setting---that would have been diminished onscreen or on TV---was when I saw The Lion King on Broadway. Yes, I've seen other equally stirring shows since, but that show and the one I saw yesterday belonged absolutely to the stage.  If I watched a DVD of yesterday's show, I wouldn't have the same intense experience, because I wouldn't be so immersed in the space. So I may regret that I attended the last performance and can't go back again, but I can embrace the experience I had that one time. No matter how amazing our technological entertainment becomes--3D TV, videogame headsets, surround sound headphones--there will always be a place for live theater. And while I love a lighthearted, upbeat show, musical or otherwise, as much as anyone, I will still be amazed and overjoyed when the next stirring, dramatic piece of theater rips my heart out and slaps me in the face. I was exhausted on the way home, and yet felt so alive...more so, perhaps, because, even with the lights, sound mixing and other technologies that went into it, what truly moved me was simply other people in the same room as I, taking me to places thousands of miles and decades away.