captainsblog | Bee-ing Social:)

By the time Friday rolls around, five of the seven days have usually made One Weak. But the end of this just-past workweek was calm enough, and I was determined enough, that I/we/I actually made and kept plans three straight nights to get out of the usual comfort zone of petfood bowls and DVDs.

Friday: A Midsummer Night's ~~Fatal Crash~~ Dream

The Totes Professional Shakespeare in the Park has been part of my summers for close to 40 years, ours for well over 20. We missed their first weeks of Tempests, might get out to the Hill for Love's Labour's Lostses. This year, though, brought some competition in the Bardolotry department: Shakespeare in the Parking Lot, a shorter run of a single play by Inclusive Theater of WNY. I knew two of the cast members from different circles of life, and am now friends with a third (and possibly more to come); the venue is much smaller, the press minimal, but the performances turned out to be as genuine as the Big Kids down the street and was perhaps closer to the ambience of the original Globe.

Getting there was half the fun. First, I had to extract myself from the office on time on Friday afternoon- check. I'd promised to pick up pizzas for Eleanor (who got out of work just past curtain) and me- check. Then, a quick shot from Sheridan, the nearest major highway, to the 290 to the 90 to the 33 to get to the venue.

Check- heart rate after near-death. To keep with the Shakespearean theme, I put it in iambic pentameter after the show:

If using suicide lanes knoweth thee not?
Then enter not thee there- STAY THY PUCK OUT!

("The" is more grammatically correct, but "thy" works the meter better. So thyre:P)

We access Sheridan Drive westbound to get to the 290 by such a lane. Turning Driver ahead of me made the left and pulled into it as eastbound traffic finally cleared. I followed. TD then stopped dead at the nearest edge of the lane, leaving me no room to get in there behind and away from what was soon to be more eastbound traffic.

Very soon.

I got more and more frantic, gesturing, waving, finally honking as I thought about backing up. TD responded by shrugs and at least one middle finger as I mouthed the instructions: YOU. MOVE. SLOWLY. AND THEN YOU MERGE. SAFELY! Finally, TD got it and I did not die. Pity- Pyramus/Bottom's actor would have done an awesome job of re-enacting it;)

This is he, in his death throe at the end:

But we're getting ahead of ourselves. First was finding the place, called The Foundry and quite likely formerly just that :

This goes by the generic term of "makerspace"- turning a once industrial building into an incubator for smaller, more creative efforts. Inclusive Theater is one of the tenants, and this was their first performance for a paying public. The first night was a sellout (also its only "pay what you can" night), and I had issues with their credit card site, so after my non-crash, I was still nervous that I might have been turned away. But no- ten bucks got me in for the main event but also the short ahead of it by my dog park friend Dave: The Trash-edgy of Slackbeth!

That be he, serenading Lady S in full Deliverance mode, complete with Elvis bathrobe and MAGA hat (he told me later he keeps accidentally leaving it in the "trash" bag that is central to the plot). Then, the Dream began, Dave coming back as one of the play-within-a-play performers-

-and a longago Methodist minister friend Chris and his wife among the Faeries in the cast-

The Faerie Song was rapped. The Pyramus play-within was suitably overacted. Bottom made an ass of himself. And a lovely time was had by all:)

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Saturday- the Maine Event

The next morning was for close to sleeping-in for me, but only me. Eleanor had been up since 6, partly because of confirming and acting on plans for our first dinner company here in quite some time.

Two houses and one cross street away from us is a place forever known as "the Monsignor's house," because the Catholic Diocese indeed used it as the home of one of its higher-ups when we got here 25 years ago later this week. It's been a rental for many years; while most properties in this area seem to sell like hotcakes, its owner put it on the market sometime last year, taking the sign down without an apparent sale. It has now become home to two couples. One, a woman and her boyfriend, a bit younger than us, who arrived with Maine license plates a few months back and who we've seen walking their adorable pug and admiring our front yard. The other, we've learned, are Lisa's 80-something mom and dad; she moved back here from Maine when they needed caregiving.

We had them over for dinner last night, and they proved to be lovely company. She baked some absolutely delectable chocolate-raspberry bars, to finish off the chicken-and-inspired-salad Eleanor made to precede them. We laughed, shared dog stories, and are promised a reciprocal at their place.

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Sunday- Lost and Found Dogs

Two straight nights of social butterflying? Why not try for three?

First, the morning proved unusual. I got word that our usual 8 a.m. dog park run would be postponed because our buds were helping another friend locate their new missing pup:

That's Zoey (not to be confused with our cat Zoey or with my friend Ann's cat Zoe). Dogzoey had just come home as a rescue to one of Ann's friends who lives near both of us, and bolted from her new daddy on her first walk in the neighborhood. So I piled Pepper in the car and we went in search, without success. (Fortunately, the Amherst Police had been notified and found her by the end of the morning:)

After that and a workout, I kept my third straight day of Plans, and took Pepper to Rochester for an annual event put on by friends at their suburban home there. Pepper was especially welcome because their dog is about the same age and would love the company.

Well, maybe not. The two of them were looking out on 20-plus people with burgers, hot dogs and other goodies, and they were not about to just sit down back there for a game of Pooptzee. Then, a third dog about the same age arrived, and his reaction to the "playpen" was AW HELL NO. Once he was released into the general population, Pepper quickly followed, and the two escapees had a happy rest of the afternoon catching dropped food, drinking out of beer cups (water, he adds with emphasis) and sniffing each other to excess:

When I first arrived- taking Eleanor's plug-in car since the dog does better on longer trips in its real back seat than my car's lack of one- I had the brilliant idea of plugging it in at the town's charging station, barely two blocks from their front door. And indeed, Brighton Town Hall has such a free charger- two, even! Both of them in use at almost 4 on a summer Sunday afternoon, because the Brighton Library, bless them, is OPEN at almost 4 on a summer Sunday afternoon.

I walked Pepper over there after closing time, made sure that one of them was free, and then drove back and charged it for a final hour (which got close to a 50 percent charge on the car that takes half the night using our 110 outlet at home). She shared one final burger with me and then we headed back, tired but happy after our three straight nights of adventures:)

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No idea what the week ahead holds. But these nights have been what a "weekend" is all about:)