Looks like the mayor trotted out the nice weather preview today. Not bad, Mr. Mayor. Your choice of seventy degrees married to partly cloudy skies and gentle breezes may just be the master stroke of your political career. Then again, some of the naysayers are blogging about your taking advantage of the creation of someone with even more connections. I wonder what He would think of that, sir.

This weekend, I played a show held in honor of the theatre where I have performed for almost the last six years. 2851 North Halsted played host to shows with John Malkovitch, Gary Sinise, Laurie Metcalf and a thousand other Chicago theatre stars, legends, afficionados and hobbyists. The show alternated scenes from St. Nicholas productions, Steppenwolf and ComedySportz, and, yeah, we held our own against actors far more seasoned. You get a lot of leeway with comedy. Deanna, Martin and I did Brecht/Ibsen stage directions with the directions parts shouted offstage by Katherine and Keith. I don't say this often enough but our timing rocked. Fresh-faced improvisers often make the mistake of filling the air with sound. I used to peform with a guy - "Jethro", but he was born "Jeff" - who made sound effects every time he took a step. Unfortunately for him, he also really liked to set his partner up with intricate, clever arguments, which he would invariably punctuate with some weird farting noise because he was baking quiche. He was great once he quit that habit. Other improvisers just talk. And talk. Did I mention the talking? I learned reasonably early on in sketch writing that efficiency counts most. People use ten words when they could use three or one and a tilt of their head... Why? Because they don't trust the actors or audience to know their intent, and so they trade clarity for mystery or tension.

We did not trade clarity for mystery. Given a Brechtian location of junkyard, Deanna immediately went searching for her lost wedding ring, an opening with about a million overtones of sadness, anger, love, shared history. Martin and I hardly had to move.

I should also take a moment to mention the other two scenes: Pick-a-Play and Blind Line Mamet. In Pick-a-Play you usually have two players reading and one justifying, grounding the scene and helping to marry lines from, for instance, Shakespeare and Duck Tales. Our artistic director, Joe Janes, chose to make all three actors read from plays by the same author - Sam Shepard. The unity of voice allowed Sara, Paul and Martin (again!) to relate to each other through voice, body language, mime... in other words, acting. For the suggestion, Joe got a Sam Shepard location (trailer park). Sara broke hearts when she cracked open that first brewski.

Last before the Panel of Famous Former Tenants, Scot, Rich and Ben performed Blind Line Mamet, set in a typical Mamet location (pawn shop). All the lines the players pulled out at random came from David Mamet plays. My favorite in light of the Brown Bag or "We never say anything dirty at ComedySportz because like Jackie Chan we want to play family friendly to increase ticket sales, and this is generally a good idea" Foul was, "Money talks and bullshit walks..." Three guys in suits wandering around a pawn shop cursing at each other? The audience ate it up. Props to Scot for trying to sell, um, something and props to Ben for not giving in to the improv urge to identify everything because, man, Mamet is vague, sometimes infuriatingly.

Oh, I also got drunk on expensive champagne.

They had glasses of it out. It was billed as a "champagne brunch". I had just finished my scene and felt relieved my unburnt bridge to the rest of the Chicago theatre community stayed unburnt, so I wandered out into the lobby. Brandi started me off on watching my calories, so I didn't want to stuff Ann Sathers cinnamon rolls into my face, delicious and sinful though they were. Put enough work into your workout and eating starts to feel like an investment. Of course, after everyone went in to the theatre to watch the show(s), they stopped putting fresh glasses out, so I had to open one myself. In the coatroom. Because I was afraid of getting caught. I poured a glass and headed back inside the theatre, resisting the urge to chug. I still drank it quickly.

Then I got another one.

Oh, my poor liver, you were born for better things.

Brandi and I had a glass of wine at dinner, testing out the Costco Riesling we want to use for Thursday's seder at our house. We both almost fell asleep into our Chicken Parmesan. I would have slept for the rest of the night, except that I had another ComedySportz show (Battleprov) that I had to ref (badly; at one point telling the audience to send a player out of the room, "...with a one, two, three! Ready? Goodbye [player]!" Pause. "I just forgot how to count to three.").

In retrospect, I'm kind of lucky to be alive.

Certainly on a day like today.

Enjoying the sunset.