Clearing Bombs

Clearing Bombs by Eric Samuelsen
World Premiere at Plan-B Theatre Company
February 22, 2014

Perhaps the worst time to watch a play that consists of two economists arguing about the larger economic picture is when you are about to make a major, life-changing decision in your own personal economics.  That’s what I did, though, because when I bought the tickets I had no idea that’s what last Saturday would be for me.  I wasn’t about to give up my chance to see an Eric Samuelsen world premiere, though, so I told the respective parties that they would have to give me a couple more hours to let the idea percolate and headed off to the theatre to let two famous economists sit on either shoulder and give me the pros and cons of making what Keynes referred to as the “inspired madness” of personal investment.

I should let you all know that I’m not the sort of person who seeks out these sorts of discussions in my own life.  I get overwhelmed by the political back and forth.  I feel ignorant.  I rely on emotional arguments that are easily refuted.  I feel like people are talking circles around me.  I am, essentially, the modern equivalent of the Everyman figure in the show, Mr. Bowles (Kirt Bateman).  I do feel a nagging obligation to be less ignorant, though, which is why I like listening to other people discuss stuff like this, as long as I’m not required to defend my thoughts/opinions and as long as they don’t talk over my head.  I like to think I’m not alone in that, which is why I feel comfortable admitting to it.  This is also why the structure of the show worked so well for me.  The two economists spent their time trying to win the heart and mind of the Everyman and, hey, that’s me.

The first thing that I started tracking in the show was the visual element.  I immediately saw the downward trend of a graph in the line of the roof (well done, set designer Randy Rasmussen!).  I also loved the contrast between the two men (Keynes, played by Mark Fossen, and Hayek, played by Jay Perry).  Hayek was short; Keynes was tall.  Hayek wore a black suit and black shoes; Keynes wore a navy blue suit and brown shoes.  Hayek had a white collar; Keynes had a striped collar.  Hayek’s suit felt more formal with a more formal style vest; Keynes had the comfortable suit of a rumpled professor and a less formal style vest (yes, I'm also a fan of costume designer Phillip R. Lowe's work).  The men were also contrasted in their temperament and approach to the stressful situation they were in.  Hayek was frightened; Keynes was laid back.  Both were startled at some points but Hayek reacted physically while Keynes showed his fear more in his face.  Also, Hayek was writing a book whereas Keynes had written a book.  Hayek was married; Keynes was single.  Every element in the play set these two at odds, which made it both startling and delightful whenever they weren’t at odds.

The personal relationship between the two men was as interesting to track as their ongoing battle to sway the Everyman (ok, more so because I’m far more interested in personal relationships).  That journey, as well as the immediacy of the dangerous situation they were in, made sure this play never became a Talking Heads play.  I can’t decide if the play was attempting to be even handed with an ambiguous ending, though, or if the way that it favored Keynes was intentional.  After all, Hayek was operating from a position of fear.  He hyperventilated every time a siren sounded.  Keynes came off as a much stronger character.  Mr. Bowles most often sided with Keynes as well and had many more harsh words for Hayek.  When Keynes asks at the end of the play who won the argument, Mr. Bowles does not reply but it is clear that Keynes won more of his heart that Hayek did (his resolve to vote Labor from here on out notwithstanding).  I did like the final image, though, of all three men being required for the task at hand: spread out on the rooftop, separate but necessary in their own way.  All hands on deck required to clear the bombs of our society, the passionate arguments just an idle thing to be dropped when life suddenly gets very real.

Of course, maybe I saw it as a win for Keynes because the man directly in front of me was very vocal in his support of Keynes throughout (very loud “mmmHMM”s and “yes!”es) and started his “Bravo”s before the lights went down on the stage.  And maybe I saw it that way because I ended up taking a Keynesian leap of faith in my own economic sphere.  Or maybe it’s because I hope that if I fall on my face after that leap that I’ll have Keynes’ compassionate approach to pick me up (since I find Hayek’s self-correction less than pleasant to live through).  I liked this play.  It made me think, even if I was thinking all the time through the lens of my own personal dilemma.  Don’t we all look at the national economy through our own checkbook, though?  And don’t we all see the virtues of both sides of the argument and then ditch them both in favor of action?  Or is that just us ignorant Everyman figures?

Lessons Learned From the Chinese Acrobats

Golden Dragon Chinese Acrobats
BYU
February 8, 2014

1.  Any outfit can be enhanced by glow-in-the-dark neon.

2.  Never let them see you prep.

3.  When teaching modesty lessons always include a lesson on tolerance and/or common courtesy so you don't hear your 5 year old's voice ring out in the silence with "Is that ALL they're going to wear???"

4.  When you don't pack your bag with things to quietly entertain children one will, without precedent, fail to be engaged by the glittering, neon-clad group of people doing amazing things right before their very eyes.

5.  Windsprints during intermission can help with #4.

6.  Sometimes having the big guys standing there ready to catch you makes the trick look extra dangerous but mostly it just takes away from the coolness of the thing you are doing.

7.  Don't point right if the people are coming in from the left.

8.  Don't ask the audience if they want one more if you didn't mean one more chair on the giant chair stack.*

9.  Always rock the exit.  Keep your head and arms held high!**

10. No matter how amazing you are, people will always find something to gripe about.

*We had just spent an inordinate amount of time watching him add just one more chair when it seemed impossible to add another chair so when he asked, "Do you want one more?" I thought it was a natural assumption that he meant one more chair.  He coaxed more and more applause out of the audience in support of "one more" and then....no chair!  Later I realized he must have meant one more balancing pose.  I'm going to blame this on the language barrier.

**Am I the only one who stops watching where they are directing your attention and sees if the ones we aren't focusing on have dropped their focus?  I loved how these guys never dropped their arms in view of the audience.  Way to commit to the exit!

Salt City Slam

Salt City Slam
Sam Weller Books
January 27, 2014

We got off to a bit of a rocky start because we showed up at the wrong venue.  Apparently Sam Weller bookstore had moved to Trolley Square several years ago.  Yes, years.  If I had given more credence to the map on Facebook than the address on the KSL event page we would have been fine, but KSL had the date and Facebook was silent.  Alas, we made a poor choice and ended up missing the Open Mic portion of the evening.  This also resulted in an unfortunate chair-free experience for the evening.  My resourceful companions scrounged up a low bench to share, but we gazed enviously at the chairs with backs on them all night long.

I’ve been about 7 months removed from my beloved writing community in St George so I was a tiny bit giddy to once again be around people who loved to wrap themselves around words.  I will admit right off that I was nervous that I might be out of my depth and relieved to see that poets of all stripes were embraced and applauded.  After the Open Mic (we saw only the final performer, who was hilarious) there was a featured poet whose name I very unfortunately did not write down.  She traveled here from Seattle and used the most evocative images.  My favorite of her pieces was her final one that used the image of atoms to explore the idea of catalysts and change.  Her powerful plea for an electron (agent of change) to come to her still resonates in my mind.  Of course, my summary is completely butchering the piece.  Such are the hazards of reviewing a poetry reading.

It wasn’t until after both of these events that the slam began and by that time we were so tired that we almost went home.  The featured poet was so fabulous that we felt full of happy writing moments and the hour long drive home loomed large.  But this was an expedition to check out the local writing scene so we stayed and were not disappointed.  Several of the poets had pieces that really piqued my interest and made me want to be a part of this community.  My biggest problem is logistics, really.  I left my kids with my parents at 5:45 pm and didn’t return until nearly 1 am.  This may be do-able for people without kids, but for a single mom who generally works nights this is unsustainable over the long term.  This really did feed my start in a big way, though.  Hopefully I can find a way to have poetry in my life without 2+ hours of driving.  In the meantime, I’ll sneak up to Salt Lake whenever it is vaguely feasible.  (And St George too!  SLAM on February 14, 2014 at Jazzy’s on Bluff)

Joyful Noise: The Grandness of Handel's Messiah in a Most Intimate Little Box

Joyful Noise
Covey Center
December 5-21, 2013

Here's what is both wonderful and problematic about seeing a show in a small black box theater: you're so close to the action that you feel a part of it.  You feel compelled to say amen at the end of sermons; you have to stop yourself from helping with set changes; you want to join in on the chorus of songs you know.  Being an audience member in a traditional space is like wearing a hood or a veil--you get to observe from a comfortable distance (both physically and emotionally).  Being an audience member in a black box challenges that.  There is no emotional buffer and I have to admit that when this play touched on deeply emotional subjects (like the healing power of the Atonement), I felt a little naked without that buffer.  After all, I could see right into their eyes.  I could see right into their souls.  Could they see into mine?

You're probably not as neurotic as I am, but it gives you an idea of how intimate this production is.  The play presents some difficult images--the forcible removal of an infant from her mother (on stage), sexual assault (off stage) and its aftermath (on stage), and heartbreak in its various forms.  The staging lays these all in the audience's lap, which can be jarring.  More often than not, though, there is solace to be found, so after our hearts break from Susannah's (Anna Daines Rennaker's) wrenching description of her abuse at the hands of her husband we, too, are wrapped in Mrs. Pendarve's warm embrace. 

Lynne D. Bronson's portrayal of Mary Pendarves was one of the most delightful parts of the production.  She was hilarious without making the character ridiculous and was, consequently, totally endearing in her unwavering adoration of "the Master" (Scott Bronson's Handel) and her fierce loyalty to Susannah (Anna Daines Rennaker).  Plus, as mentioned above, her very being was the tight hug we all needed in light of Susannah's revelations, Handel's disappointments, the King's mourning, and Eggerton's spiritual struggles.

I also loved the journey of Kat Webb's Kitty Clive.  She threw herself so whole-heartedly into the negative aspects of her character that her transformation when singing Handel's Messiah was stunning.  Also, a note to the costume designer: I loved the little bit of patching done on the back of her dress.  It was just the sort of detail that can only play in this small of a setting and it was a perfect stroke for Kitty.  I also loved Susannah's second dress--so light and sweet and beautiful!  It made us all fall in love with her.  Well, it was the dress and Anna Daines Rennaker's ability to tug at your heartstrings and blow you away musically.  It has got to be incredibly difficult to sing a role where the quality of your voice is so built up from the very beginning.  No pressure or anything, but you've got to sing so sweetly that the angels would weep. And she does.

Each of the actors in this small cast does an excellent job.  Patrick W. Kintz manages to make the ostensible villain of the story a nuanced and earnest character and Travis Hyer's George II pulls off vulnerable (difficult to do when portraying a king) and funny without appearing weak or stupid.  I especially loved when he was giving Egerton a good natured poke about the books he was railing against.  M. Cameron Bench's John Christoper Smith (Handel's business manager) was the audience's right hand man too and he never let us down.  He exuded confidence and competence and conveyed information organically within the scene.  Adam Argyle's Charles Jennens was a great foil for Handel's explosive personality.  The physical contrast between the actors was a wonderful visual and Argyle's portrayal highlighted the differences between these two creative men.

Handel, the central character in this play (whose plot I neglected to mention--it explores the events surrounding the writing of the classic oratorio The Messiah) was portrayed by J. Scott Bronson.  Even in his ragings, Bronson's Handel was incredibly likable.  He may be bitter and disappointed but he's still lovable.  Because of that approach to the character we readily and easily forgive him his follies and weep with him when he feels the power of Christ's Atonement deeply as he contemplates the words of the songs that are now so famous.  Bronson connected with the audience with ease, which made the entire production work.  His journey became our journey and his tears our tears. 

The play ends with the entire cast singing the Hallelujah Chorus, which is the final blow for anyone attempting a stoic response to this piece.  So don't fight it; bring your hankies and have a good cry.  It'll be good for your soul.

The Monkey's New Life Plan

The Nightingale
BYU
October 8, 2013

The monologue from the theater to the car went something like this: "When I'm a grown-up I am going to come back and be in that place.  Are you clear?  I am clear on this.  I am going to be one of those people in that show when I am bigger.  I am going to do that!  I am going to be the nightingale!  Or maybe another show.  Or maybe this show with more characters.  And a kid is going to come and say that when she is a grown up she will be in a show too.  I am clear on this.  Are you clear?  I am clear."  So, if I'm clear on what she's saying, my little 4 year old Monkey would like to grow up to be an actress.  Preferably an actress like the one who portrayed the title character in the show we just saw.  And she has already determined that she will, in her adult life, inspire children to follow in her as yet untrodden footsteps.  I love this kid so much!

Actually, this is the second time we have seen the show (she would like us to go a third time but my pocketbook will only stretch so far).  The first time we saw the show, she leaned over to me and whispered as the Nightingale (Nicole Dugdale) came on stage, "Mom!  That's the prettiest girl I have ever seen!"  Here she is, by the way, with the Monkey and her older sister:

The show is a retelling of a Hans Christian Andersen tale and the performances were influenced by the Peking Opera.  Apparently the cast went to China to study with the Peking Opera and research for this show.  Oh, BYU students, I hope you know how lucky you are!  Back in the day, we didn't have such exotic field trips.

It's hard to say what delighted us most about this show.  We were all engaged but in different ways.  My older daughter could not stop laughing.  She loved the goofiness of the Emperor (Jordan Nicholes) and found each character's symbolic physical gesture hilarious every time he or she did it (especially Clayton Cranford's Young Man's vocalization).  The Monkey loved that too but was especially entranced with the visual element.  The costume designer (Donette Perkins) deserves kudos for designing costumes that were simple and looked easy to move in but that also had eye catching details that created visual interest.  The Monkey especially loved the fake mustaches and beards.  I wish I had taken a picture because the glorious thing about them is the fact that they were fake in a way that was very conscious of its fake-ness.  They were not fake facial hair; they were a theatrical indication of facial hair.  I loved it!  I want my own for our next family picture (though I do still love our own crochet beards)!  Also, the Nightingale was plain in her clothing but had a demure and yet beautiful headdress--a perfect representation of the Nightingale herself.  I really liked the Narrator's (Cossette Hatch's) Chinese style makeup with the striking red eyes too.  She was the character whose makeup most approached what we think of when we think of Chinese theatrical makeup, which made her stand out and visually highlighted her role as the Narrator.

The entire cast was strong but the three that stood out to me were the Narrator (Cossette Hatch), I-Ming (Jennifer Bozeman) and Death/Emperor of Japan (Noah Kershisnik).  The Narrator caught the children's attention quietly and managed to keep them as she slipped in and out of the scene easily.  Her performance never seemed forced and she really felt like the audience's advocate and confidante.  The actress playing I-Ming had a similar ease to her performance that was very engaging.  Her very face seemed to transform as she moved from character to character.  My favorite performer, though, was Noah Kershisnik, who had such focus and precision that it seemed as if nothing (short of a police raid of the theater) would draw his attention from the core of his character.  He was 100% present every time he stepped on stage and so each of the characters he portrayed was vibrant and compelling.

The whole experience was delightful.  50 minutes is the perfect length for a children's show (no intermission to navigate!) and the inclusion of Chinese dialogue was interesting without being overly foreign (plus we all got a kick out of saying the few Mandarin words we know to the Chinese Narrator (Esmeralda Veda) after the show).  The Monkey absolutely loved meeting the cast after the show.  We were the very last people to leave the first time we saw the show and just about the last people to leave the second time.  She didn't quite know what to say to them but was over the moon that they paid attention to her (special thanks to Jennifer Bozeman for being so funny about the cute shirt she was wearing.  She retold that story over and over again.  "She thought I was a giraffe!").  Thank you, BYU, for a wonderful evening!

The World's Largest Gathering of Chevron Maxi Skirts

Time Out for Women
September 13-14, 2013
Logan, Utah

I hadn't thought to blog about this until one of the Saturday afternoon presenters really spoke to my writerly side. I came at the behest of my sister, who has been a Time Out for Women (TOFW) volunteer in Logan for a number of years.  Although I have long loved the work of the presenters (I even follow Hilary Weeks on Facebook and enjoyed her vacation-pictures-with-washing-machine meme immensely), I was a little hesitant about the event.  It seemed like the same sort of crowd that was lining up the day before the Twilight Marathon at your local Cineplex.  I love my Twi-hard friends but we obviously have very different opinions of what constitutes a fulfilling day.

I'm glad to report that this was a babysitter-worthy event, with no domestic-violence-promoting vampires in sight (though it was a little disturbing to witness the pandemonium when the Hudson Lights cuties came on stage.  Ladies--we are not pre-teens at a Beatles concert).  The whole thing was a great mix of serious and fun--with general hilarity casting extremely poignant personal and spiritual moments in high relief--and even though it was a little odd to clap after saying "amen," somehow it worked.

My first "ping" as a writer came when Mary Ellen Edmunds talked about praying and asking Heavenly Father for time to think and ponder.  I know this isn't unique to my situation but as a single mom it is very difficult to carve out time for thinking, pondering, and writing.  The time I do find seems like a miracle.  Praying for that miracle was a light bulb for me (I had forgotten that I used to do that!). 

Likewise, Jennifer Platt Brinkerhoff's lecture resonated with the writer in me because I do actively try to find the parable in life experiences in my poetry and creative nonfiction pieces.  I loved how she would tell stories and then remind us (multiple times) to not get so caught up in the story that we miss the message.  That trained us in a small way to step back and see the meaning.  It gave the audience several opportunities to feel what it was like to do what she was advocating (thus making it more likely that we would be successful trying this at home).  I also loved the idea of asking if our routines reflect what we claim to value.  Coupling that with the idea of ritualizing your routine (finding meaning in the small things we do every day) brought home the fact that I need to spend my time doing what I most value: working because I value independence and want to provide for my children, baking because I want us to be healthy, creating art because it delights my soul etc.

As for the rest of the day, I don't think I can do it justice in a short review.  From Sandra Turley's heart-wrenching journey to motherhood and soaring soprano voice to Kris Belcher's self-deprecating humor and emotional honesty (my favorite line: the problem with going blind is that all of the hot movie stars have lost their looks), it was a day full of the sorts of things that squeeze your heart.  We heard from Brad Wilcox (who never fails to be both funny and insightful), Terryl and Fiona Givens (whose thoughtful discussion challenged common notions of the "Dark Ages"), Hudson Lights (easy on the eyes and easy on the ears with their flawless harmonies and winning smiles), and Sheri Dew (who always manages to be both a person to look up to and a person you could lock arms with.  If I ever fly through Africa I'd like her to be my traveling companion!).

All of this was punctuated on Saturday by the music and musings of Hilary Weeks.  Her music was the impetus for a couple of really cool moments on Saturday.  The first was when she was singing "Dancing in the Rain" and mentioned a polka dot umbrella.  Halfway up the auditorium someone opened up their polka dot umbrella and began waving it.  This led to umbrella after umbrella opening (it was a rainy week and people were prepared for inclement weather).  It was such a lovely expression of the joy bursting through the room.  I wish I was the sort of person who is prepared for inclement weather!  I opened the umbrella in my heart instead.

The second moment was when she sang "I Will" and invited us to join her on the chorus.  The third time we all stood and the entire auditorium sang:

"I will stand.
I will not fall.
In a world that's weak,
I will be strong.

I'll be true.
I will choose His way.
Yeah, I know what's right
And I will not change.
In a world where so many will not,
I will."

I was tempted to pull out my phone and record it, but decided I wanted to experience it without a filter.  Because of that you'll have to just take my word for it: that kind of unity is powerful.  A huge auditorium of faithful women audibly and directly affirming their desire to stand up for good brought the Spirit flooding in.  If the umbrellas were visual joy, this was audible and visual faith.  As a writer of faith, this was tremendously strengthening in both a spiritual way and a writerly way.

I love those times when a large group seems to beat with one heart.  I remember being in a regional conference in Ohio when the Columbus temple was announced.  So many of us who had sacrificed and driven hours to be at the conference were the same ones who had sacrificed and driven hours to go to the Washington DC temple regularly (the closest temple: 6 hours away).  It felt like we all had the same reaction in the minute following the announcement--like the entire stadium was one person, bursting with joy.  I count myself lucky to have experienced that moment and I count myself lucky to have been in Logan, Utah on a Saturday morning when a group of women with different lives, different tastes, and different backgrounds became one person bursting with faith.

A note to Deseret Book, though: maybe you should start doing some marketing specifically geared to hipsters.  Maybe some ironic chevron products like mustard and navy chevron knee socks a la Mary Ellen Edmunds?  If you make them I'll wear them next year!

Nothing Kills an Evening Like Being Denied a Krispy Kreme

Bedtime Stories

Timpanogos Storytelling Festival

August 30, 2013

Provo, Utah

Nothing could be more pleasant than sitting in the cool canyon breezes and being entertained by delightful storytellers.  Well, nothing except ending the aforementioned evening with a Krispy Kreme donut.  This is why the Bedtime Stories event at the Timpanogos Storytelling Festival has been a favorite event for my little family over the years.  Imagine my pain, then, when we wandered up to the donut table as usual and after handing a donut to each of my sweet girls they did not hand one to me. 

“Are there no donuts for Mommies?” I asked jovially (such a ridiculous question, I know!)

The overly cheery reply should have tipped me off that this was no joke.  “We have coupons for buy a dozen get a dozen free at the end of the table!”

“Seriously.  There aren’t any donuts for Mommies?”  This could not be happening.  I know I’m not 5 years old, but I do have a heart.  And a stomach.  And you’re dangling my favorite donut right there in front of my face.  And I’m starving.  And this really isn’t the time of month to be denying me sugar.  (Not to get too personal or anything.)  And, by the way, I have a ticket just like my kids do.  In fact, I paid for all of the tickets.  And the advertising for this event just said that donuts would be served after the readings, not that parents would be arbitrarily denied donuts just because they are old enough to drive their children to this event, pay for the tickets for this event, supervise their children at this event, herd their children through the long line for this event, and keep their children from throwing their napkins on the ground after this event.  I think I’m a person you want to keep happy, folks, and this can be accomplished by GIVING ME A DONUT.

Bigger smile: “We have coupons at the end of the table!”

“Are you telling me there are no donuts for Mommies?”  Yes.  That is in fact what they were telling me.  Move on, sister.  The pain was compounded when I discovered that the other mommies in my group just took a donut without waiting to be served one and therefore only got the stink eye from the volunteers.  I should have been more brazen.  (In fact, I was more brazen when they were packing up the MANY MANY boxes of leftover donuts at the end.  I walked right up and said, “NOW are there donuts for Mommies?”  There were.)

I feel better now that I’ve gotten that off my chest.

Like I said, I love this event.  I love the venue.  I love the smiles and the laughs and the look of sheer delight on my children’s faces.  Love it.  My daughter is a budding writer and I feel like I am feeding her start too by coming to something like this.

The Bedtime Stories event is aimed at kids and features a mix of adult storytellers and kids.  I asked my kids which was their favorite and we all agreed: the little boy who told the story “Don’t Let the Pigeon Ride the Bus.”  It’s no surprise, really, because we love the book.  The little boy (Bridger Backus) was so tiny—five?—but he certainly held his own on stage, especially considering the storyteller he followed (Carmen Deedy).  She was from Cuba and was the most engaging of all of the storytellers.  Her story, a call and repeat tale about a rooster and his diamond button, was hilarious because of her asides and the opportunity we had to be a part of the story.  Each of the little girls pounded their fists with gusto: “Give me back my diamond button!” and we learned the important lesson that “he who has the king’s underwear has the king’s attention.”  I get the feeling she wanted us to apply this to current events and instigate a Political Panty Raid.  Or maybe she had just read one of my favorite British children's picture books, "The Queen's Knickers."

The little boy’s story also included audience participation but because it was a well known story, no instruction was necessary.  We all knew to shout out “NO!” every time the pigeon made his request.  He was so cute in his pigeon costume and didn’t seem to have even one misstep (or maybe just one).  We were all quite taken with him. 

Two other child storytellers (older) performed as well as two more adults.  My older daughter and I were engaged the whole time, but my 4 year old lost interest after the pigeon (she and her cousin had a delightful time shooting plastic arrows at my head for the rest of the evening).  Leah Jacobsen and Mason Watts were fun storytellers with stories that had a humorous twist.  Laura Pershin Raynor told a delightful story of growing up by a zoo and dreaming of lollipops that were “bigger than my head.”  I loved the image of falling asleep to the sounds of lions roaring and the visceral image of biking home with the sticky mess of a lollipop under her arm.  I think there was a collective shudder along the entire row when she told us that!  Ed Stivender told the sweet tale of “The Man in the Moon in Love” and ended with the crowd-pleasing 50 Ways to Fool Your Mother (moral of the story: you can’t fool your mother.  This went over well with the Mommy Crowd.  Also, you can’t go wrong when an older white guy really commits to performing a rap.  It’s just funny.  I’m sure someday I will tire of it, but this was not that day.)  My daughter was especially pleased with Ed’s performance because he also came to her school earlier in the week and did a special assembly (which she tells me was equally funny and wonderful).  Thank you, Ed, for taking the time to go out to the schools!

It was after this that, full of laughter and smiles, we wandered down for donuts (see above rant).  But after the donut debacle we had a pleasant end to the evening, chatting in the beautiful park while our kids played tag, pleased to have heard people play with language with just as much wild abandon.  We must go to more events next year!  And I’ll bring my own sugar.