We arrived early and sat with friends up front, which S decided was a strategic spot for taking photos. We were bothered and perturbed by a scraggly hippie man wearing a tie-dye shirt and fanny pack who wanted to move our two tables so he could set up his video camera.
He offered to sell the video "at cost, you know, $8 or $10, for the dancers," which torqued me off since he hadn't even asked permission to take a video of me, let alone sell it. S told him we would not be moved. Videodude persisted, and tried to remove two of our chairs, which we were holding for more friends, and S said, "HEY, BUDDY, those are our chairs, what are you doing?" and asked him if he were trying to be annoying, to which Videodude answered jokingly, "YES. Yes I am."
So S told him in a calm and measured voice, "You are doing a good job of it. You know, I'm here to take photos too, which I will GIVE to the dancers, and everybody is here to watch the show. This isn't a big place. You are being unreasonable, sir." Belle's eyes were huge and she joked about what big hackles S has. Videodude made small, and turned his back on the confrontation. S is very civilized but has zero tolerance for bullshit. The situation rectified itself because the audience members to the center of the stage moved their table back five feet when Videodude asked them.
Revenge was sweetest for S, though, because the star dancer chose to wrap her veil around his head, then stole his drink from the table in order to dance with it on her head, and then grabbed his hands, had him stand up, and got him to shimmy his hips. Being both shy and a closet ham, he obliged and said he didn't hear the huge waves of applause.
My own performance was great, and by that I mean I wasn't nervous other than that sense of exhiliration I always feel. But my feet did not stumble, and my hips and legs and shoulders did what I wanted them to do, and my veil didn't get caught on my head or on my costume. I found the rhythm and the motion and caught the drumbeat, followed the flute, and shimmied with the kanoon. I don't remember most of it.
People loved the costume. I had five ladies ask about it later. It fits me well and best of all it is comfortable. The beadwork and the leaded crystal I gleaned from a chandelier, combined with the dark green crushed velvet and the slinky tight black skirt, make a lovely overall effect if I do say so myself.
And that was just Friday night. Saturday S & I prepared ourselves for a frontal assault on the kitchen. We planned the countertop and the flooring, moved everything off the counters, emptied drawers, removed one section of cabinets, and then spent three hours in the monstrous hardware store buying paint and looking at possibilities. S picked out the paint, and he picked YELLOW oh boy did he.
He picked a color called "Casa d'oro" and let me just say usually I think the names given to paint colors are by and large silly (like the dark dark red I once bought, named "Dragon's fire"-- come on, that is so hokey), but "Casa d'oro" really fits this time. YELLOW. Bright fucking yellow. HELLO YELLOW yellow. Walk into my kitchen and feel like you're inside a smiley face. We joked about having kitchen parties during the dark dreary winter when all our friends are fighting bouts of depression. "Sad? Come hang out in our kitchen!" I do like it. It is just BRIGHT YELLOW.
He also picked out a blue that is one step below cobalt and one step above sky blue, kind of like superhero blue, really really really bright. The combination of the BLUE and the YELLOW is just too intense. We decided around midnight that we need to get a pale blue for the cabinets, something to relieve the eye, something light and not so BRIGHT. We'll use cobalt-blue tile for the countertops and the same color for the flooring. I love that deep gem-color blue; it goes well and will tone down the YELLOW. But there has to be something lighter, cooler, paler, to work as a counterbalance, to set up contrast between the yellow and the blue.
I'm exhausted today, and we have the cabinets and trim to paint, the countertops to tile, the floor to strip and level and resurface. My in-laws are coming this weekend and the spare room looks like a hurricane hit it, and the bathroom is a mess, and the lawn needs mowing, and the dogs need a bath. Ah yes, the trials of domesticity. I can't complain.