Notes from the edge

I participated in my first full Knightmares rehearsal last night. As I meandered in to take my place, the moon shone bright through skeletal trees, giving a somewhat sinister air . . .

A cacophony of frenzied preparation–drums and vielle, stage and lighting instruction, a clamoring for props and costumes–met me at the door. After a quick chat with one of the directors I went in search of my costumes. I eyeballed the attire for Crying Lady 2; I dubiously tried on the dress for the fair Lady of Synadoun. {helpful hint: you might want to cut back on the mashed potatoes, dressing, and pumpkin pie prior to trying on clothing of any sort}

So what did it look like on? In the words of my audience . . .

Little girl: *gasp!* You look bea-u-tiful, like a princess; so pretty . . .

Classmate: You look like you’re wearing a table cloth.

Costume mistress: You have your dress on backward.

An auspicious start, no doubt.

From there we ran through the whole of the play. I said my Lady of Synadoun lines–that’s about all I can say for that performance. So relieved to recall anything at all, I forgot to come back out with Sir Handsome Stranger. I had no clue anything was amiss until I heard him utter, “My Lord, King Arthur, here is the Lady of Synadoun,” at which point it crossed my mind that she couldn’t be there, because I was here. So out I ran.

In betwixt my two scenes, I was fitted for a mask. Due wayward bangs it took a bit longer than anticipated and I had to go onstage, sobbing, with Plaster of Paris fused to my forehead. I shed said plaster for the remainder of the evening, which gave the appearance of a grievous dandruff problem.

I imagine that was right around the time my friends began to rethink their decision to ask me to participate.

But we did it–we made it through!

Sure, there are issues to address. I, for one, need to work on my ‘seductive slither.’ Personally, I think it would be a whole lot easier to introduce the audience to medieval automatons. I could totally own that performance.

Still, we have two weeks; a lot can {and hopefully will} change in two weeks . . .