It's getting close, all day at the quarry

There's just no way to take pictures and spin around holding a piece of turf behind you like Superman (behind me, that is). In fact, pictures are out as we spend hours and hours at the quarry. It's fun, it's exhausting, it's dehydrating. The things we do for ART.
Although opening night (day, evening) is on Tuesday, Alison and Mia are still looking with that expression on their faces that says, "What if?" Indeed. What if. What if instead of making a shape like a star we didn't. What if we did something else, that required several people to attempt their first grapevine--this is a grapevine that steps back first, if you want to try it at home. It's one of the few things there doesn't need to be an advisory on, but for the most part, what the dancers do should most emphatically be labeled, DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME.

We have done a run-through of sorts with the music and Rick Weed's excavator. All raise hands who think it might be hard to stand next to the excavator and hear the music of the pans. Some of us are counting like mad. Others are more relaxed, going with the flow. I'm not telling which I am. You'll never guess.

Q2 is amazing, though. Even from the prospect of a community member down in the quarrry rather than up on the edge, where you will be, there's a vastness and a remarkable surprising-ness that overtakes the sensations of heat and weariness we sometimes feel. Watching the gulls go picking their way along a series of rocks, or the baby porcupines (back, I think, by popular demand) scuttling and rolling along is enchanting. I still don't have a sense of what the whole will seem like from the audience, but, no doubt, you will. And now I have to go. Dress rhearsal tomorrow. My clothes are clean. My brights are almost bright enough. I remember what I have to do. False eyelashes? Whatdya think?