Summer Shakespeare!

Every summer for the last nine years, our kids have participated in the Homeschool Shakespeare Troupe. It has been a wonderful experience. Sadly, this is the last year for us. Matthew will turn nineteen in August and he'll be too old. (Even though he was in college this past year, he was allowed to participate because he doesn't turn nineteen until after the play.)

This summer Matthew tried out for a smaller role because after his cardio-thoracic reconstruction, he wasn't sure what his physical limitations would be. Matthew got the role of Bottom in A Midsummer Night's Dream. For those who haven't read the play, Bottom is a peasant weaver whom Puck gives an ass's head.

So Matthew needed a peasant costume. And a donkey's head.

Here's the costume. (Because Matt's a peasant, I couldn't sew a fancy costume, but I used a wonderfully soft moleskin fabric.)

The donkey's head was much more of a challenge. But I took this...

And made this.

Not bad. But the director (whose husband is an engineer) had a much grander and better idea. Now this is a donkey's head! Plus, the audience will be able to see Matthew's facial expressions.

Plug for the play: it's Saturday, July 25, at 2pm 

at the University of Tennessee, Chattanooga, Fine Arts Center.

What's Up Friday

This summer I’m not having much time to blog. So here’s another quick round of What’s Up Friday.

What I’m Doing

I finished my resume, and I’ve begun applying for jobs. (If you need a technical writer or a subject indexer, let me know.)

We’re in the midst of a stay-cation, mostly doing small things and resting. Yesterday morning, my husband and I canoed on the Tennessee River. In the evening, we drove to Knoxville and saw a Shakespeare on the Square’s production of Titus Andronicus. Very dark, reminiscent of a Greek tragedy. My summary—what would happen if you took a bunch of evil people and let them do whatever they wanted.

My husband rowing.

A photo of me at an island where we stopped for lunch. We were under a mulberry tree ripe with berries. I wanted to eat them. But Cal (probably remembering the scene from The Hunger Games) said I couldn't be 100% sure they were mulberries and he preferred not visiting ER. Turns out they weren't mulberries, but I'm pretty sure they were still edible.

             

 What I’m Reading

The Expats by Chris Pavone. After reading his book The Accident for Blogging for Books, I had to read his first book. It’s excellent, fast-paced treadmill reading. I’m also currently reading A Constellation of Vital Phenomena by Anthony Marra. It’s beautiful novel set in Chechnya.

What I’m Writing

I’m nearly finished with a big edit of my upmarket women’s fiction. Five chapters left. The chapters are slow going because they are very underwritten—I grossly underwrite first drafts. For example, the first draft of this novel was only 46k words. I’ll probably hit 73k to 75k before this edit is done. And I’ll still be adding words in the next edit, fleshing out the scenes. 

The Comedy of Errors

Here are pictures from The Comedy of Errors. If you ever have a chance to see the play, do it. It is absolutely hilarious.

Matt and I in the green room.

Two sets of twins --only Shakespeare can make you suspend disbelief about two sets of identical twins
being separated at birth.

Antipholus and Adriana

Matt hamming it up.

The bearer of bad news.

Shakespeare Costumes, Fingerless Gloves

This year I promised Matt that I'd make him some costume accessories. His brothers both have gotten huge, feathered hats. And capes and gauntlets. But Matt wanted fingerless gloves. So I said, "Sure."

Of course, there wasn't a pattern. So I traced his hands and went from there.

Here are three paper patterns, and two mock-up gloves that didn't work.

Here's the pattern that did work.

The final version of the glove.

 Here's how it will look on stage. Except he'll have a costume and stage makeup on too.

If you're interested in attending The Comedy of Errors, the troupe is performing it on Saturday, August 3, at 2pm at Roddy Theater, Baylor. The troupe does an amazing job. And it's free!!

Shakespeare Costumes

Mid-July means one thing for me--sewing.

This year my son Matthew is playing Antipholus of Syracuse in Shakespeare's Comedy of Errors. It's one of Shakespeare's earliest plays and it's about two sets of twins separated at birth. It's full of word plays, physical comedy, and puns.

I picked a simple pattern this year McCalls 5907 because Matt is one of twins and so I didn't want someone to end up with a costume that was too hard. I did make some alterations to the pattern. I put in a slit between the middle seam in the front and back to make it easier to move. Matt tends to be very active on stage--I've seen him do a flip before and I didn't want anything restricting his movements (i.e., making him fall). The shirt is one I made a few years back. It's Butterick 4486. I keep hoping that Matt will outgrow it because I want it--it's made from the softest batiste fabric and I'd love it for an oversized poet's blouse.

Here's one of my favorite of Matt's lines:

I to the world am like a drop of water
That in the ocean seeks another drop,
Who, falling there to find his fellow forth,
Unseen, inquisitive, confounds himself. 

Here's another quote from The Comedy of Errors.

They brought one Pinch, a hungry, lean-faced villain,
A mere anatomy, a mountebank,
A threadbare juggler, and a fortune-teller,
A needy, hollow-eyed, sharp-looking wretch,
A living-dead man.

Hmm. Looks like Shakespeare invented zombies.

Here are some links to other costumes I've made. Click here. And here. And here. And here. 

The Bard

"Claudio" and two stage managers.

Today my youngest son has Shakespeare auditions. It means that all day I’ll be hearing Shakespeare. He’s auditioning for the role of Antipholus of Syracuse in The Comedy of Errors. I’m really looking forward to the play, especially since I haven’t read this one, because it’s known for wordplay and puns (okay, I’m not so fond of puns, but I love wordplay).

I love Shakespeare season because Matthew will quote Shakespeare for months on end. To me, the cadence of the plays, the witticisms, and the layers of meaning are literary bliss. You can’t help but love, “You speak an infinite deal of nothing.” (The Merchant of Venice). Or, "Sweetest nut hath sourest rind; Such a nut is Rosalind." (As You Like It). And what about the play within a play of Much Ado About Nothing, where Shakespeare pokes fun of Romeo and Juliet.

And here’s Matt’s favorite line: “O, that he were here to write me down an ass! But, masters, remember, that I am an ass; though it be not written down, yet forget not that I am an ass.” Much Ado About Nothing.

I thought I’d share a few photos from past years.

Irreconcilable Differences in Much Ado About Nothing.

Puck!

Shakespeare Photos

We're going to be on vacation for the next two weeks, so my posts might be sporadic. But here are some photos to enjoy from Shakespeare performances.

The Lovers: Benedick (Jacob) and Beatrice: "Come, come. Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably."

& Hero and Claudio (Matthew): "Silence is the perfectest herald of joy. If I were a little happy, I could say how much."



The Happy Couple. "Didst thou note the daughter of Signor Leonato?"


Benedick: "For which one of my bad parts did you first love me?"
Beatrice: "For all of them together. But for which of my good parts did you first suffer love for me?"



"If we can do this, Cupid is no longer an archer: his glory can be ours, for we are the only love gods."



"For man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclusion! Come, let us have a dance 'ere we are married so we may lighten our own hearts and our wives' heels."

Shakespeare Costumes

Today is begins Shakespeare Camp--this year they are performing Much Ado About Nothing. Since auditions in February, Jacob and Matthew have been memorizing lines and working on blocking. I've been sewing costumes. Every day this week, the entire cast will meet and rehearse. Then they'll have performances on Thursday and Saturday.

Here's a photo of Matthew in his Claudio attire. (His tunic is made of brown velvet, which didn't want to stretch the same way as the lining fabric. grrr.)

Here's photo of Jacob dressed as Benedick, striking a pose. (Yes, I sewed the hat and gauntlets as well as the tunic and shirt. But I made those last year.)

If you love Shakespeare or costumes, here are some links to other costumes I've made over the years. more costumes, even more costumes, and still more costumes. I've got even more costumes, but a couple of years I didn't post photos.

Word Choice: Friday Fun

Mark Twain once said, “The difference between the almost right word & the right word is really a large matter--it's the difference between the lightning bug and the lightning.”

In light of that quote, here are some of my favorite Woodhouse quotes for your Friday fun.

“…he once contracted a matrimonial engagement with Lady Florence.”

Bertie, looking at a painting: “It has a nice patina.”

Aunt Dahlia: “You don’t even know what a patina is.”

Bertie: “It’s generally safe to say such a thing when confronted by a piece of art.”

Aunt Dahlia to her husband, Uncle Tom: “You know you always shoot the wrong people.”

Lady Glossip: “Mr. Wooster, how would you support a wife?”

Bertie Wooster: “Well, I suppose it depends on whose wife it was, a little gentle pressure beneath the elbow while crossing a busy street usually fits the bill.”

Mike nodded. A sombre nod. The nod Napoleon might have given if somebody had met him in 1812 and said, "So, you're back from Moscow, eh?”

(This one is for all my writing friends.) “A certain critic -- for such men, I regret to say, do exist -- made the nasty remark about my last novel that it contained 'all the old Wodehouse characters under different names.' He has probably by now been eaten by bears, like the children who made mock of the prophet Elisha: but if he still survives he will not be able to make a similar charge against Summer Lightning. With my superior intelligence, I have out-generalled the man this time by putting in all the old Wodehouse characters under the same names. Pretty silly it will make him feel, I rather fancy.”

Bertie, talking about Roderick Spode: “You can't be a successful Dictator and design women's underclothing.”

“She looked like something that might have occurred to Ibsen in one of his less frivolous moments.”

This isn’t an example of word choice, but I’m including it since Shakespeare season is upon the Keller household. Next week I start sewing. (This year the kids are in Much Ado About Nothing. Jake plays Benedick, and Matt is Claudio.)

Woodhouse speaking about himself: “I suppose the fundamental distinction between Shakespeare and myself is one of treatment. We get our effects differently. Take the familiar farcical situation of someone who suddenly discovers that something unpleasant is standing behind them. Here is how Shakespeare handles it in "The Winter's Tale," Act 3, Scene 3:

ANTIGONUS: Farewell! A lullaby too rough. I never saw the heavens so dim by day. A savage clamour! Well may I get aboard! This is the chase: I am gone for ever.

And then comes literature's most famous stage direction, "Exit pursued by a bear." All well and good, but here's the way I would handle it:

BERTIE: Touch of indigestion, Jeeves?

JEEVES: No, Sir.

BERTIE: Then why is your tummy rumbling?

JEEVES: Pardon me, Sir, the noise to which you allude does not emanate from my interior but from that of that animal that has just joined us.

BERTIE: Animal? What animal?

JEEVES: A bear, Sir. If you will turn your head, you will observe that a bear is standing in your immediate rear inspecting you in a somewhat menacing manner.

BERTIE (as narrator): I pivoted the loaf. The honest fellow was perfectly correct. It was a bear. And not a small bear, either. One of the large economy size. Its eye was bleak and it gnashed a tooth or two, and I could see at a g. that it was going to be difficult for me to find a formula. "Advise me, Jeeves," I yipped. "What do I do for the best?"

JEEVES: I fancy it might be judicious if you were to make an exit, Sir.

BERTIE (narrator): No sooner s. than d. I streaked for the horizon, closely followed across country by the dumb chum. And that, boys and girls, is how your grandfather clipped six seconds off Roger Bannister's mile.

Who can say which method is superior?"

Shakespeare Tryouts and Writing

Today Matthew and Jacob have Shakespeare tryouts. They’ve got their lines memorized, and they’ve worked through the blocking. And this afternoon, they’ll try out for the same role, Benedick in Much Ado About Nothing. That should be interesting. (The director is also casting for The Tempest, so one or both may be in that play.)

I go to tryouts for moral support. But it’s so hard. I root for all the kids and my heart breaks for the ones who struggle, especially for the ones who’ve never done it before. I want to shout, “Honey, project, we can’t hear you.” And afterwards, I want to console them. I want to tell them that even if it didn’t go well, getting on stage is the first step. And if they persevere, the next year will be better because they’ll know how to project. They’ll know that in stage acting you must always face the audience. And they’ll know how to use the stage and how to gesture.

It strikes me that there are many parallels between acting and writing. While it’s true that some people are more naturally gifted than others, everyone starts as a newbie. The first story/novel you write isn’t going to be very good. In fact, it’s going to be quite bad. Just like the actor who turns his back to the audience while speaking, the writer has to learn not to chase after irrelevant sub-plots. You may love scrapbooking and describing how to cut beautiful paper, etc. But if it doesn’t impact your novel in more ways than giving your MC a hobby, you need to leave it out. And just like the actor who doesn’t know how to project until he can practice on a stage, you have to learn how to choose your words so that your voice shows through and not your thesaurus.

Recently, a blog friend got a rejection on an R&R (an agent asked her to "revise and resubmit" her manuscript). I’ve been there, so I know how much that hurts. To be so, so close to having your dreams come true, and then having your dreams trampled on. But just as the actor who gets a small role, it’s a step in the right direction. Getting a small role means you’re a step closer to getting a big role. Getting a request for an R&R means that the agent thinks you and your writing have real potential. Who knows what may happen next time? Unlike a lot of things in life, you can only get so far reading books on writing/acting, the real education comes in the doing—you must write/tryout, you must hone your skills, and above all you must never give up.

Shakespeare and the Three Little Pigs

As many of you know, I love Shakespeare. (Despite the PG Wodehouse quote that says about Shakespeare, "It sounds well enough, but it doesn't actually mean anything.") And I love teaching Shakespeare. I've taught Hamlet, The Scottish play, i.e., Macbeth, Julius Caesar, The Tempest, and soon Henry V. The words, the meter, the depth, the allusions... Okay, you get it.

Recently, some friends shared this YouTube video with me. (Thanks, Darren & Maggie!) So I'm going to share it with you all because we all need a smile in the morning. Think of it as Shakespeare meets The Three Little Pigs meets a Redneck. Enjoy!

Irony

A month ago I was talking to a friend who is a linguist. We were discussing the cultural aspects of language, and he brought up irony. He asked me how I would explain irony to someone whose language didn’t have a term for it (i.e., it’s not part of their cultural milieu). I tried to explain it and failed. I told him that I’d have to consult my trusty M.H. Abrams, A Glossary of Literary Terms. (I adore that book!)

Later I realized that the best way to explain a term is by example. I’m teaching MacBeth right now and it’s rife with irony. For example, after Duncan’s murder, MacBeth wonders what will clean the blood from his hands. Lady MacBeth says “a little water.” Yet, she’ll be the one washing her hands saying, “Out damn spot” by the end.

But as good as literary examples are, real life ones are better. Yesterday, my daughter came home from her computer programming class. She said that class always gets interesting right around 5pm when the computer announces that the system will be shutting down in two minutes—right during the middle of the professor’s lecture. And it takes the professor about ten to fifteen minutes to get the whole system rebooted afterwards. It’s the third week of classes so the professor is getting very frustrated. He hasn’t been able to fix the problem. So yesterday he asked the class if they knew what was wrong. One student told him that the university computers are scheduled to reboot at 2am, and for some reason the computer system clock in the Java 2 class was set to the wrong time—2am instead of 5pm. All the prof had to do was reset the clock to the correct time. But the prof didn’t know how to do that. The student told him to right click the clock in the bottom right hand side of the screen. However, English is not the prof’s first language. And so he wasn’t able to reset the computer’s clock. A programming prof who can’t reset the computer’s clock—that, my friends, is irony. (Kind of like mathematics profs and students who can’t multiply—but that’s another post.)

I expect Ariel or someone else will have compassion on the professor and show him how to reset the computer’s clock before next class. I have to admit, the incident makes me feel much better about my computer skills, or lack there of.

Make-up Artist

Friday I became a makeup artist. Now before those of you who know me well enough snort your Monday morning coffee up your nose by accident, let me assure you that it was a one time deal. I volunteered to help the real makeup artist get the actors and actresses ready for the Shakespeare play. (I did it once before a couple of years ago, so I wasn’t a complete newbie.) I was put in charge of highlights. Highlighting consists of painting light and dark shadows on characters’ faces to make their features stand out under the stage lights. (Notice I was not put in charge of blending highlights into the foundation grease paint as I am not a good “blender.”)

But my time as a makeup artist was profitable. I made several discoveries.

1. According to Calvin (who’s trained as a watercolor artist), the important thing about painting is the brushes. You can’t paint well with bad brushes. I must have had bad grease paint brushes.

2. Boys scruntch up their eyes when you put eye-liner on them. And it looks like a dotted line. They also flutter their lashes like butterflies, and mascara smears everywhere. The subsequent mess makes people glare at the incompetent make up artist.

3. I am very good at painting on fairy eyebrows—but mostly because nobody can tell me that I’ve done them wrong.

4. Rubbing alcohol removes grease paint. (Okay, Luke told me that—apparently, basic chemistry should have taught me that.)

5. Young men should shave before showing up for makeup.

6. Under no circumstances should one try to put lipstick on a boy.

7. Although necks also get coated with grease paint, it does not look good on white shirts.

8. Girls, especially little girls, will let you paint as much make-up on their faces as you like. They will, however, have distinct opinions as to the colors they want and the job you have done.

9. Grease paint powder (which keeps the paint from sliding off your face when you sweat) is to be applied ONLY after all the grease paint is applied or blending will not happen.

10. Boys really do have longer eyelashes than girls. Grumble. Mutter. 

I wish I could take credit for this make-up job, but the professional did it. 

Here's another photo with Matt and Jacob.

Friday News

Today is exciting for me. I’m being featured in the Author Spotlight on “The Word is My Oyster” blog, which is written by Lydia Kang. Besides being a writer, mom, and wife, she’s a doctor and writes the most fascinating posts. Medical Mondays are my favorites. If you’d like to read the Author Spotlight, click here.

One more exciting book announcement. My book is now available for Nook. So if you were waiting for the Nook version, click here.

I was hoping to post photos of Matt and Jake’s Shakespeare costumes today, but I’m searching high and low for ¾ inch silver D-rings. I need 16. I have 12. I’ve cleaned out the local fabric stores. And WalMart doesn’t have them. Neither does Hobby Lobby. And I can’t finish the gauntlets without them. I did find out that JoAnn’s was getting a delivery Thursday. Friday morning, I’ll be at the store, hoping for D-rings. If anyone else is there looking for D-rings, they’ll find out that I don’t run those 9 miles a week for no reason. Okay, I don’t run them so I can beat other women to important store items. (I actually hate shopping.) I run because it means I can be healthy, eat more of what I like, and read novels. I think I’m the only woman at the gym who runs a treadmill while wearing reading glasses. But, hey, I’m getting my exercise, which is good because Lindt chocolate and Salt and Vinegar potato chips are calling my name.

Shifting Gears

In the midst of figuring out how to do publicity for my new book (I’m open to suggestions), it’s time for me to sew Shakespeare costumes. Matt and Jake are both in the play Mid Summer Night’s Dream. Jake is playing Demetrius, and Matt is playing Puck.

Jake really liked his costume from last year (blouson shirt and tunic with faux embossed leather accents). So he said he’d wear it again this year. GREAT. Then, I volunteered to make him accessories. He wants gauntlets and a feathered hat. They will be very cool, but a lot of work. I’ve done a hat before—more broken sewing machine needles than ever for one project. And the gauntlets are studded with metal studs, meaning I probably will need to purchase a studding tool, if there is such a thing. Matt needs a tunic covered with leaves, which should be fairly easy, I hope.  When the costumes are done, I’ll post photos.

For those who are interested, things with my novel are going well at Kindle. The exciting thing this weekend was discovering that a total stranger loved my book and wanted to contact me. (Yay!) I’m still having trouble with Barnes & Noble—their promises to rid me of the imps have not materialized. So I will call them again, and, hopefully, get better promises. As soon as that's done, I'll get back to the Screwing Up Time sequel. I've left Mark and Miranda in a very precarious situation, and I need to rescue them. 

Shakespeare

Our kids love acting.  They were recently in Shakespeare's As You Like It.  Here are some photos.  Notice the cool costumes--I made the boys' and Ariel sewed her own.

 

Matthew played Touchstone.  He needed a motley coat.  Blue and green was as "motley" as Matt was willing to go.

Ariel played Rosalind and also performed in a string trio before the play.

Jacob played Oliver--the bad guy in the play.  But it's okay because he's reformed by the end.
















Luke was the stage manager (he's too old to participate anymore).  However, when an actor dropped out, Luke eagerly took his place as well as managed the stage.

Hamlet

Last night we watched Hamlet. Cal loves the movie. I don’t. It’s horribly depressing—oh, look, everyone’s dead. You want to like Hamlet, but he’s no better than anyone else. Ophelia’s the only one I like and she goes mad and drowns. (Okay, no one else in our house shares my opinion.)

I will admit that the acting is superb. And the play has some of the best lines (though the Scottish play has more). To be or not to be. Get thee to a nunnery. The play’s the thing. Time is out of joint. Alas, poor Yorrick. Man is a wondrous thing. Frailty, thy name is woman. Horatio, I am dead. Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.

I would actually like to spend some time studying the play. I’d like to dig into the themes of truth and lies, predestination and free choice, sanity and madness, and love and vengeance. But if I did it would probably convince me that it’s a great play and I’d love it.

Why did we end up watching it? I quote a line from the play in the book I’m revising and I had to make sure that it’s in the movie. It is. Whew! Which line, you ask. It’s a secret! You’ll have to read the book. In the meantime, it’s a famous line, and it’s not one of the ones listed above.

I suppose you could guess...

Shakespeare Costumes

Oops. Here are the Shakespeare pictures that I promised to post before we went on vacation.

(I made the boys' costumes, but Ariel made her own.)

Luke as Leontes.

Ariel as Hermione.

Matt as the "Clown," in full makeup and beard.

Jacob as Polixenes.

Bill the Bard

The kids are in Shakespeare camp this week, which means they walk around saying, “Forsooth” and “Prithee.” Both of those words sound well enough, but do they actually mean anything? Are they some Shakespearean version of “Yo” and “Dude”?

“Forsooth.” Is it some kind of slang that means “I have something for the local witch?” In other words, “Here’s an apple For the Soothsayer.”

And what about “prithee.” Is it some kind of abbreviation for “I pray thee,” which we’d render “Hey, dude, can you do this for me?”

This year Luke has some interesting lines. He plays Leontes the intractable tyrant king of Sicilia in A Winter’s Tale. He yells at a poor girl and calls her “dame Parlet.” I asked Luke what it means. He told me, “I have no idea.” But it does sound cool, especially when yelled.

Personally I think it’s from the French “parler,” which means “to talk.” So, bringing it up-to-date, he could call her “Lady Magpie.” Still, Leontes is “the pot calling the kettle black.” All he does is stride around the stage, talking and yammering and nattering some more. During one point in rehearsals, Luke couldn’t remember a monologue and said, “Whatever—Leontes just blathers on for a while.”

Ariel’s role is a little more interesting. Her character Hermione is nine months pregnant is the first couple of scenes, “dead” for most of the middle, and shows up as a living statue in the last act. Being dead did cut down on her lines quite a bit.

Jacob plays Polixenes, the King of Bohemia. Jacob’s claim to fame is that he wants to disinherit his son, beat Luke’s beautiful daughter to make her homely, and kill various people—and he’s not considered the villain in play. (Luke’s the villain and has even hired a hitman to knock-off Polixenes, Jacob. Yep, the mob’s got nothing on Shakespeare.)

At least, Matt’s not walking around quoting his favorite line from last year, “You are an ass!” Though this year like last, he plays the comic relief in the play. He’s the one character who knows what’s going on, who’s doing it, and why. Despite his wisdom, he’s always being pick-pocketed and mooning after a girl named Mopsa who’s about a foot taller than him. But that doesn’t matter, as Bill the Bard says, “The course of true love never did run smooth.”

Soliloquies

All four of my children have major roles in this summer’s Shakespeare production of A Winter’s Tale. This is all well and good. However, two problems come to mind. First, costumes. Ariel now makes her own, which is cool because she needs two costumes. In one scene she’s pregnant so she has to bind a pillow around her tummy and a wear Medieval/Renaissance maternity wear. A gown is bad enough but maternity wear—yuck. Luke is wearing a costume I made for him a few years ago. Matt doesn’t get to wear the cool doublet, cape, shirt combination I sewed last year because this year he plays “The Clown.” So, I only have to whip up a ratty looking tunic. Jacob gets the uber-costume this year. He picked out the pattern for a belted doublet with a lined cape. Yep, it’s a lot of work. He got to bear a small amount of the burden when I made him cut out the pattern. But the bulk of it awaits me. I’ll be sewing for several weeks. Still I’ll listen to a book on tape, preferably an Elizabeth Peters’ novel detailing the lives of the Father of Curses, the Brother of Demons (who seems to be the exact representation of Luke, even down to the scowl), Nefret, and Amelia Peabody, who could best Indiana Jones with her umbrella/saber tied behind her back. Now you’re in on my secret—sewing isn’t a burden, though I’ll say it is once I get started.

No. The real burden is all the soliloquies that are going on all over the house. (Thankfully, Matthew doesn’t have a line this year that is equivalent to last year’s “You are an ass!” Yeah, he always “needed” to practice that one.) Instead, my assorted children meander around the house spouting Shakespeare. When one starts, the others begin. The practice session morphs into who-can-be-the-loudest-without-flubbing-their-lines, and I experience cacophony by Shakespeare. I can be heard above the din only if I shout and say, “I’m writing and your noise pierced my bubble.” (The kids call writing mode my “bubble” because they believe that I become so deeply involved in my imaginary world that nothing can penetrate. Writing is referred to as “Mom’s in her bubble.”)

But, now the kids have found a way to penetrate the bubble—Shakespeare. Hmm. If I complain, they’re going to say I brought it on myself. I’ll have to withdraw into my bubble and consider a comeback line.