Day 2225: Small Mouth Sounds

Yesterday, for my birthday, I saw a great production of the wonderful play Small Mouth Sounds, about a group of six people at a silent retreat.

Before the play started, my boyfriend Michael made a small mouth sound when he noticed the incredible coincidence of his twin brother (who never goes to the theater) attending the same performance of the play.  About 40 minutes into the play,  I made a small mouth sound when I realized that I had neglected to leave my car key with the valet at the parking garage which was a twenty-minute walk away from the theater.  I made several small mouth sounds as I wrestled with the decision of whether to disturb people in the theater to try to contact the parking garage or to stay in my seat and allow my keyless car to perhaps create havoc where I had left it.

Michael and I made small mouth sounds as we communicated silently about my dilemma, echoing the action in the play, where the characters had taken a vow of silence for a five-day mindfulness retreat. Michael mouthed and gestured “Call them!”  It took me ten minutes to decide what to do while my brain made small sounds (interfering with my ability to hear the small sounds of the play) like these:

How could I have done that?  Why am I realizing NOW that I forgot to leave the key? Wouldn’t it have been more effective if that thought had occurred to me during our long and circuitous walk to the theater?  Could it have been the fear of being late for the play or the distraction of immediately being asked directions by another theater goer who was also confused about where the play was and who accompanied us on our search for the location? Why didn’t the parking valet run after us after realizing that I had forgotten to leave the key? Why haven’t they tried to contact me through the parking app? Have they towed my car?  Is this going to ruin my or anybody else’s day?  How do I get out of this long row of people and unobtrusively leave the theater when the audience is staring at each other across the center stage and the actors are maintaining such a delicate and effective balance of comedy and tragedy in this almost-silent 110-minute play without an intermission?

Eventually, I made the smallest sounds possible leaving the theater and contacting the parking garage, finally reaching somebody who made small and kind mouth sounds reassuring me that my car and everything else was okay.

After the play, Michael and his twin brother made small mouth sounds telling me what I had missed during my absence, including the cute guy in the play getting completely naked.  I made a small mouth sound indicating that I thought they were kidding, but they weren’t.

Michael and I made our way back to the parking garage, making small mouth sounds all the way. There, the nice parking attendant, who had made small mouth sounds with me on the phone, told me I had left the car running, so the valet had no trouble parking it and getting it out of the way.  While he was talking to us about this, he made a small mouth sound when he was informed that SOMEBODY ELSE had just left the parking garage without leaving their key.  Because that car wasn’t running, somebody ran after that other forgetful parker, making large mouth sounds to call him back.

Then, Michael and I went to my favorite restaurant, Bistro 5, where I made small mouth sounds eating the 5-course chocolate tasting menu. I hope that didn’t disturb Michael, who probably has the genetic tendency of being bothered by the small mouth sounds of other people chewing food.

You may make small mouth sounds when you look at my latest photos:

I look forward to using that gift from Michael of the USB microphone to record the small mouth sounds of my original songs.

I also look forward to seeing my friend and comedian’s comedian Ron Lynch in L.A. at his Tomorrow Show on March 3. Here  and here are YouTube videos of Ron and audience members making many mouth sounds at the Bridgetown Comedy Festival.

I’ll be making small mouth sounds of appreciation for any comment you leave, below.

I’m now making large mouth sounds of gratitude for all who helped me create this post and — of course!  — YOU.

Day 2055: I’m Here

I’m Here in Edinburgh for the Fringe Festival and so are many other people, including actors, improv artists, musicians, and stand-up comedians, like the guy who inspired today’s blog title.

I don’t know Glenn Doncaster, even though he is “… what the Edinburgh Fringe is all about.” No matter what else Glenn does in his life, he’s helped me find my blog post title for today by putting “I’m Here” on the back of his Fringe flyer.

I’m here and so are others.

That’s my son Aaron and his friend Camilla meeting me at the Edinburgh Airport yesterday. Camilla has been here in my blog before. She told me yesterday that after she found out about my blog from Aaron, she decided to pick a blog post to read and — much to her amazement — found a photo of herself, as the beggar woman in a 2015 production of Sweeney Todd at the Fringe.

I’m here to tell you that synchronicity and coincidences like that help make life even more beautiful and rich.

I’m here to try to find that old blog post. I was not successful. I’m here to tell you it’s okay not to succeed sometimes.

(I’m also here to tell you, eleven days after I published this post and am back home in Boston, that I was able to search for the post with Camilla’s photo and link to it, both in the paragraph above and also here.)

I’m here to share other recent photos with all my readers who are here, now, too.

I’m here with my son and I couldn’t be happier.

I’m here to thank all who helped me create this post and — of course! — all my readers, who are here with me now.

Day 1981: Believe

Believe that this is only the second blog post I’ve ever written with “believe” in the title.

Believe that the first one was written EXACTLY three years ago.  (I believe this link will get you to that other post.)

Believe that this wondrous coincidence was created by my noticing this yesterday in the back of a car:

Believe that I noticed all these other things yesterday, too.

 

Believe that yesterday we saw a mango …

… and a cat on a leash on a Massachusetts beach.

Do you believe that it’s always cool to be kind?

I do!

Believe that this is Nick Lowe singing his song:

I believe there will be comments on this post about what you believe.

Believe that I always end these posts with many thanks to all who help me create them and — of course! — to YOU.

 

Day 1706: The best views of Edinburgh

Yesterday, as I took my farewell walking tour of this magnificent city, I saw a sign promising “The best views of Edinburgh.”

I didn’t climb the Scott Monument, so perhaps my views are not the best views of Edinburgh (even though in my view, they’re pretty great).

 

 

 

That last photo is another best view of somebody my son Aaron and I view as the best stand-up comic/improviser/PhD of Mathematics in Edinburgh — Dr.  Tom Joyce.  (Tom is best viewed in my previous posts here, here, here, and here).

Over the  years that Aaron and I have gotten great views of Edinburgh, some of our  best views have been thanks to Tom.  Somehow, we always run into Tom and get to view his kind, comic, creative, and often surprising views.  Yesterday, I got a different and surprising best view of Tom when we viewed each other’s medic alert bracelets and found out we both

• take Warfarin/Coumadin,
• were born with heart conditions,
• have cardiac pacemakers,  and
• got our first pacemakers when we were young (age 10 for me, age 11 for Tom).

The best thing I can say about that is this: even when you think you’ve gotten the best views of somebody, there’s always more to view.

Soon I’ll be getting best views of the friendly skies on my flights home to Boston, so I’ll leave you with these best views of Edinburgh:

In your view, what are the best views of Edinburgh in today’s post?

All my best to those who helped me share the views in today’s post and to all my readers who — in my view — are THE BEST.