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11 April 2002

Here it is 11:30. We've just returned from South Pacific (the touring production, starring Robert Goulet). As I sit here I'm trying to decide where to even start. There are five (count 'em) envelopes from the psychiatrist, 3 from the psychologist (and two telephone messages from him asking if I've finished his work yet because he has four more waiting for me). The review of South Pacific has to get finished before I go to sleep, because the entertainment editor needs it to be in his email box by the time he gets to work in the morning.

There are also two tapes from Dr. G, who is writing a book and has given me the first several chapters to transcribe.

(This is all work I do after I get home from work, you know.)

Obviously, I've chosen to write this journal entry first.

I can't remember the last time I was quite this swamped. And it's not going to get any better in the foreseeable future. Tomorrow night I'm reviewing another show (I can't remember the name, but it's by the woman who wrote Shirley Valentine and Jody's Body). Friday night I'm reviewing Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. Saturday night we have tickets for the San Francisco Symphony and Sunday night I'm meeting some friends for dinner in Berkeley and going to see Cheryl Wheeler in concert. (I'm nothing if not eclectic).

One good thing is that Dr. G has no patients tomorrow. This doesn't mean there's nothing for me to do at the office--and I have scheduled a lunch meeting with the new doctor and a potential billing person--but I should have at least a little breathing room tomorrow to make it through all this work...or at least make a dimple (if not exactly a dent) in the pile.

That's assuming that the psychiatrist doesn't bring more work. He's been seeing so many patients lately that it's difficult to realize that he's pushing 70 and officially "retired" 10 years ago!!

All this typing is cutting into my biking time. I am not going to give up my outings with Olivia and with Haggie. Haggie is coming up here on Saturday to try her hand (and feet) on the greenbelt and Olivia and I investigated last week. We may do the whole greenbelt and, on the heels of our 12 mile excursion last week, put in some more miles taking the "tours to memorials of the dead Sykes kids." My gruesome Davis tour. But I'm not getting out during the day to do little jaunts, like I'd hoped. Just no time in the day. (I'm also not giving up my hour at the club, to clear the cobwebs).

Actually, writing this rather silly journal entry is trying to help me clear my brain and decide what I want to do about this South Pacific review. I'm not giving it 5 stars this time. Something about these touring shows with Big Name stars (Robert Goulet is still a big name, isn't he? Someone inthe lobby was overheard saying "I thought he was dead..") True, he's no spring chicken, but since he's only 10 years older than I am (thank you, Internet), he doesn't exactly have one foot in the grave yet.

But I dunno...there was just something off about this production. The Nellie Forbush was terrific, but I never got any chemistry between the two of them. It also bothered me a lot that Goulet kind of "scooped" all of his high notes, starting out just slightly off key and sliding up into the payoff note. Walt didn't notice it, or wasn't as bothered by it as I was, so I probably won't mention that in my review.

Maybe it's that the show is dated. It certainly had energy--especially in the men's chorus, who did a whole dance number using pushups, which was pretty impressive. But overall, I just wasn't impressed.

However, it was kind of a fun night at the theatre anyway.  My cousin was there with her husband, some friends from Davis whom we haven't seen in months were there.   The guy sitting next to me also had a review packet and we compared notes on which media we represented--turns out he is a news guy on a local radio show--and works with Ned!  And then when we were leaving at the end of the show, we ran into my friend Kathy and her daughter.  The visiting part of the evening was almost more fun than the show itself.

More impressive than this production of South Pacific are the two new recordings Steve has just recorded in rough form, which he emailed to me and to which I've just listened. One of them is the song he and I wrote together. Kinda kewl.

I have to apologize to anybody who has read all the way to the bottom of this thing. This is, bar none, the absolutely most boring journal entry I've ever written.

And now I have to decide which of my many projects to tackle next...

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