"Dancing, as Fred Astaire Said, Is Next to Ditch Digging"

Knoxville, Tennessee - forget Connecticut, their motto should be "we're full of surprises!" Delightful surprises, that is. Firstly, last night, Ichabod, Frog, Other Actress, Brom and I had the most delicious mexican dinner across the street from our Sleep Inn, at El Chico's. Unfortunately we were NOT there on 2.99 Ladies' Margarita Night, but neither were there on 99 cent Kids' Night, so I think that evens out. After an endless parade of Cracker Barrels and Wendy's and Bob Evans', I really cannot emphasize enough just how wonderful that Chicken Monterrey was (mmm cheese and mushrooms and onions and peppers and pico de gallo and oh my my.) Plus our waitress had the type of flattened blonde hair and heavy black eyeliner that always puts me in the comforting mood of being at a cheer competition. Speaking of, I forced LightingGirl to watch a cheer competition on ESPN in the Spartangburg SC Best Western Gym the other day, and these minis did a routine to a Christina Aguilera "Aint No Other Man"/Jonas Brother "Burnin' Up" remix which was AWESOME.

Despite the delights of El Chico's, I was sort of grumpy when I woke up, because I'd been up way too late blowing my nose every fifteen minutes (damn you cold, damn you mucus swapping germy child audiences, damn you november). Plus the cold weather, the constant makeup application and removal, and my runny nose, have formed an unholy trinity of bad flaky skin. I thusly have
not one, not two, but three different moisturizers in my purse at any one time. I will beat you, winter skin. But anyway that made me grumpy too. Staying up till 1:30 blowing your nose isn't that big a deal, unless you have to get up for work at 6:30. Oh wait. I do.

And yet, the minute we entered the doors of the Knoxville Civic Auditorium and Coliseum, all grumpiness was instantly dispelled. The place was covered floor to ceiling with wonderful old memorabilia from the Auditorium's long, illustrius career. We're talking old movie posters, signed star photographs, a suit of armor, an actual piano bolted to the wall with sheet music around it, toe shoes from the Knoxville Ballet, vintage soda can displays, everything. My drama dork/history nerd/classic film buff heart skipped a beat. I ran straight into a signed photo of Bernadette Peters - Bernadette Peters! Around the corner was Dolly Parton - Dolly Parton! Ah, Dolly...so close, and yet so far. I've been chasing her every step of the way this tour, from the Dixie Stampede in Myrtle Beach to Pigeon Forge, the home of Dollywood, and today to a stage where she's performed, and I do feel closer to her, but I fear I will never be actually close to her. Like hugging distance.

The wonders didn't stop. There was an ice rink around the corner - yeah, a giant hockey rink. Then I looked down at the floor, and it was painted in a yellow brick road!!! SoundBoy turned to me, offered his arm, said "Shall we?", and we skipped down the yellow brick road, like a blond Dorothy and Scarecrow. (This did much to redeem SoundBoy, following various coffee-mug-urination and losing-dvd incidents.) We followed the yellow brick road to the stage (closer and more beautiful than ever before!) and then up the stage to the dressing rooms. A handful of them were named after old movie stars. I put myself in the Ann Miller room, partially because it had a couch, but mostly because I love Ann Miller, particularly in On the Town. I am so totally her, dancing around in that museum. Ask me to sing "Prehistoric Man" sometime. I know all the words. It's only the greatest cobination of museum studies and musical theatre in the history of western civilization. Turns out, it wasn't just named after her...she was there. THERE. On a tour of Sugar Babies with Mickey Rooney. Mickey Rooney!! I have shared a stage with Ann Miller. ANN MILLER! I did a time step in her honor on stage when I thought no one was looking.

The less delightful surprise was that our van is being weird, so we spent like 2 hours at the Firestone getting the tires rotated. We passed the time at a delightful pizza place decorated with black and white new york photos, and at a Walgreen's where I bought festive christmas pj shorts and knee socks. (So much holiday joy it's a little hard to handle.) But eventually we were on the road, and of course sooner rather than later...

Frog: I need to pee!
Stage Manager: Can't pee at the scenic outlook. Well we can.
Frog: Stephanie can't.
SM: She can squat.
Me: I don't pee outside.
Frog: She's like "I do not squat. I am not an Indian, thank you. I'm not a savage."
Ichabod: "I'm not from New Jersey."

Whatever, boys, laugh it up.