A Lesson in Yessin'

I hadn't seen Leggo in a year, not since our final improv show. He texted me because he heard I was moving and we started riffing about double dating. It's a little strange to think we made plans just because I'm about to move since based on our track record, if I were staying here, I would never see him again.

For some reason the plans were complicated. Bisque wanted shaved ice, Leggo's gf wanted soy milkshakes, I felt like a receptionist throwing out times and dates. But, after some shuffling we settled on yesterday at 5:30 out in a boonie for the aforementioned icy treat. We were all traveling separate. Twenty minutes before meet-up (I was early) Leggo texted saying they'd be late. Then he called saying his gf ditched. I completely understood and thought I was more than accommodating: "We can reschedule, or not, or I can come see you somewhere else later, or--" he interrupted, "No, I'll just see you there." I asked if he was sure. "It's that or go home, so I might as well come meet you!"

It was a surprise because I don't think, in Leggo's shoes, I would have driven the forty minutes in traffic to be a third wheel and have a glorified slushy. But that was the plan, and he stuck to it. And you know what? We had a really good time. We sat for, like, two hours hanging out in that shop, cracking jokes and diddling with our tiny parasols until they broke. Beyond that, we all discussed our potential artistic futures and realized Hey! We might actually be good connections for one another! It really didn't matter, once we sat, bellies full of blue sugar and laughs, the insecurity with which the whole thing went down.

Buck wild.

Improvisers harp on "Yes And!" so stinkin' much, but, it's for good reason. You just say Yes. You just say Yes and things happen. We all (myself included) are so quick to drop plans, concepts, projects when something blots what we envisioned. It's not a habit. Life is made up of blots. I think Shakespeare said that. "All the world's a blot"? Or, am I thinking of "out damn blot"?

Point is Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes begets Yes and Yes shall reign forever. Hallelujah.

And That Would Be Alright

These yahoo dbags have been a wonderful part of my life. Sometimes they call me "Mom" and I get annoyed (because I don't think it's only moms who want answers to questions like "What time is rehearsal exactly?" and "Should we warm up now?"). They grab at me until I fall off the bed during notes. We make fun of all the best and worst parts of each other so bitingly, it is unrecognizable as love.

At the continental motel breakfast yesterday, Steck stared me down while I stirred my oatmeal. As soon as I opened my mouth to speak he snapped, "SHUT UP, ALICE." And the only other patron in the lobby dropped his donut.

In the greenroom before our round started we all hugged each other. Big, hearty, meaningful embraces. These stupid jerks who are the reason all my clothes currently smell like smoke and who met me with my bags at White Castle, happy about the fact I couldn't eat anything. We played "Semi-Charmed Life" ironically, but we sang to the ceiling with sincere happiness.

When we lost, we were not sad for pride. We were sad for being better than what we did. Waiting in the wings for the announcement of our loss, we held each other's backs. We strained to stifle giggles--cracking inapprope jokes until the last moments.

After a couple hours of being split up, I spied a few guys from the backseat of my sister's car. I rolled down the window, the 30 degree wind whipped at me, and I barked in my beefy character voice, "Y'ALL LOOK SO GOOD! LOOK AT YOOOOOOU!" Lowsta flicked me off.

The night ended at the huge tournament after-party. I left first (mommin') and started goodbyes. Marg took me in tight and reminded me of the first scene we ever did about stage parents obsessed with Rice Krispies. "It's been a pleasure," we both said. Leggo yelped, "NO! NO I WON'T LET IT HAPPEN! GIRL, NO!" And that's the thing about your improv teammates: they can not mean it and mean it. And we all don't mean it, but mostly mean it.

I have been the most lucky human in that I've always loved my fellow improvisers, but this is a very special team to me. I'm still super close with old Lazy Zips because we would be friends with or without improv. Which is good! But. But not this team. These five other souls and I meet at only one point in time and space. And now, that point--it has faded.

I believe in the sand beneath my toes.
The beach gives a feeling--
an earthy feeling.
I believe in a faith that grows,
and the four right chords
could make me cry.
When I'm with you I feel like I could die,
and that would be alright. Alright.