Are you a good ‘wich? Or a bad ‘wich?

One of the things I love about where I currently live is the fact that I have a little outdoor space in which to garden.  Unfortunately, I travel a lot in the summer, so said garden probably isn’t as productive as it could be if I were here to dote on it constantly.  But I do take a lot of joy in running out there to grab some lettuce for a salad, or snip some fresh basil for my pizza. 

And…I love having tomatoes.

There is nothing more delightful than a home-grown tomato, still warm from the sun when you slice it.  And my balcony isn’t big enough to produce enough tomatoes to ever tire of them before the season is over.  Which means, as the trees are starting to show some color and the nights are getting colder, I’m scrambling to get as many of the little buggers to ripen as possible.

Mostly for the purpose of making one of my favorite sandwiches ever.

Growing up, during tomato season, we had a LOT of bacon and tomato sandwiches.  They were fantastic.  Just very good bacon, garden tomatoes, a little Miracle Whip, done.  My brother now has an extra-sentimental attachment to them, because his first son was born in peak tomato season, and our parents came to stay with them for the first week after he was born to help out.  And my parents’ idea of “helping out” was to basically stay completely out of their way and cook for them while they locked themselves in their bedroom to fawn over their new little creation.  Mom and Dad brought a good supply of tomatoes into the house, and my brother and sister-in-law practically lived on bacon and tomato sandwiches for the first couple of weeks of their son’s life.

Now that I’m growing my own sandwich fixins, I have taken the concept a little further.  And I happen to personally believe that I have now perfected the sandwich. 

Well, perfected for my taste.  And considering that’s who I’m cooking for, that’s really all that matters.  So I’m documenting it here, just in case I can’t remember what went into it when next year’s tomatoes start to roll in.

1.  Some sort of whole-grain english muffin, toasted.

2.  Homemade mayo – mine was a basic recipe, but I used all olive oil and lime juice instead of lemon.  I like mayo with flavor, and tomatoes love olive oil.  Apply to both halves of the muffin.

3.  Truffle oil – the real stuff, made with actual truffles.  A few drops sprinkled on the top half of the muffin.

4.  Homegrown tomatoes – sliced and applied to the bottom half of the muffin.

5.  Bacon.  GOOD bacon.  Sliced thick, and fried crisp.  This goes on top of the tomato.

6.  Arugula – also homegrown.  Yep, this is actually a BAT.  The top, truffled half of the muffin is now applied on top of the arugula.

It’s nutritious…it’s flavorful…it has bacon.  It’s basically the perfect breakfast. 

And I might still get to squeeze 3 or 4 more of them out of my garden!

Take Back Your Mink

I’ve mentioned recently that I’m on the cusp of making some changes in my life.  I may have hinted that I’m not sure I’m currently where I am supposed to be.

This pains me, because I ADORE Michigan.  So, while I’m trying to keep an open mind about where to go next, I’m also trying to keep an open mind about whether that place might be right here.

 

All of my Indiana roots boil down to my community theater experiences.  My grad school friends have all scattered, as grad students are wont to do after graduation.  The people I am still close to in Indiana are the people I did shows with.  Those were my people, my community while I was there.  They kept me sane when grad school was throwing me deep into depression, and they are the people I think of when I think fondly on that part of my life.  They are the ones I ate deep-fried appetizers with over beers late at night, and the ones that celebrated birthdays and my Ph.D. defense with me.

When I interviewed here, my department head told me there was a community theater in town.  I didn’t pursue it the first year because I was too busy trying to keep my head above water at school and keep up with friends back in Toronto on the weekends.  Last year, my teaching schedule had me doing back-to-back 75-minute lectures that kept me in the classroom until 7:30.  The last thing one wants to do after talking for 3 hours straight is go somewhere else to do more talking.  Plus, there wasn’t anything on the season that was all that appealing.

But this year, I’m done by 6 every day, and the season has several shows that I am interested in.  This week, they held auditions for Guys and Dolls. 

I believe I have posted here before about how badly I want to be Adelaide in that show.

I’m still probably a few years too young to really play her, but I played 30-somethings fairly convincingly in my mid-20’s, so it’s not outside the realm of reason.  Plus, I can belt the FUCK out of her songs, and I’m a strong dancer.  So, even though I haven’t auditioned for anything in seven and a half years, I sucked it up and went for it.

And I rocked it.  I actually heard a “wow” from the audience when I sang Adelaide’s Lament.

 

Here’s the point where I should probably mention that this was billed as a “co-production” of the local high school and the local community theater.  So I walked in thinking I was at a handicap, not because I wasn’t good, but because the vast majority of people auditioning were going to be teenagers.  Any adults present were probably already going to have history with this theater, and nobody knows me yet.

But again, I rocked it.  Several of my competitors complimented my dancing and reading, and did I mention the “wow”?

These kids couldn’t sing on-key.  And they certainly couldn’t be heard from further back than the 10th row in an empty theater.

So naturally, I got a callback.  And I was feeling pretty good about it, even though the director had said that the casting would come down to matching the couples age-wise – they weren’t going to put an older Adelaide with a teenage Nathan, or a teenage Sarah with a 40-something Sky.

Callbacks came, and there were four potential Adelaides.  Me, a younger girl from my night of auditions, and two age-appropriate candidates from the second night of auditions, one of whom was also called back from Sarah.  And has a doctorate in music.  It should go without saying that her voice is heaven.

But hey, she looks more like a Sarah, and she doesn’t even really want Adelaide because it will be too hard on her voice.

But they only called back one actual grown male for Sky, and he doesn’t have a strong enough voice to pull it off.

At this point, I am bracing myself for the fact that I might lose the part I want to the angel voice.  I can deal with that.

The other Age-Appropriate Adelaide is half of a married couple.  She waxes philosophical about what parts she and hubby will play.  Hubby has a gorgeous voice – would, in fact, be a perfect Sky – but she can’t sing Sarah.  He is called back for Nathan and Nicely-Nicely Johnson.

At this point, I am bracing myself for the fact that I might lose the part I want to the Age-Appropriate Adelaide who is not as good as I am, but married to the Age-Appropriate Nathan.  Because they seem reluctant to let each other kiss other people on stage.

So…I wait.

And when the cast list goes up, I see that I did not get Adelaide.

The part went to the only candidate that was, at the very least, a decade younger than me.

Most likely because the best Nathan was a high-schooler.   Never mind that there were older men that COULD have played him – let’s face it, it’s NOT a rigorous singing part.

So I look to see who is playing Sky and Sarah.  Again, they have CHILDREN in these roles.  ALL of the major singing roles have been filled with high schoolers.

High schoolers who CAN’T FUCKING SING.

Meanwhile, I have been cast as a streetwalker and a backup dancer.  The woman with the amazing voice has not been cast, nor has the man with the amazing voice.  This appears to be because they declined the smaller roles they would have been offered. 

 

Any time I have auditioned for a show, I always say I would accept any role.  I’m usually doing it for the social experience, because I need to get out of the house and meet some new people, so I don’t care what part I’m playing.  I always have fun just working on a show.  It wasn’t until after I finally got to play my first lead that I even started indicating what roles I was interested in on audition forms.  I have been considered for leads and not gotten them, and been offered chorus parts instead.  And had a fantastic experience.  And I really did go into this just hoping to become a part of the community.

But I wanted to become part of an ADULT community.  I hang out with 18- and 19-year olds all day, every day.  I don’t exactly want to go spend an extra 3-4 hours of my day with people who have never lived in a world without instant messenger.

I DIDN’T want to be a 34-year-old, fat Hot Box girl when the rest of them are literally half my age and half my size.

So I think I’m out.  I don’t think I will enjoy this experience – I actually think I will hate every. fucking. minute of it.  I can already tell that, while the choreographer and vocal director seem like they are pretty good at what they do, the director is…a small-town high school drama teacher.  Who has built herself a small-town high school musical.  I can’t take direction from someone who I can’t respect.

 

But I still feel like an asshole for going back on my word.  And I feel rejected.  And downright insulted.  And I STILL don’t know if I will ever feel like I truly belong here.  At the beginning of the week, I felt like this might be just what I needed. 

 

And now I just feel lost.