Yesterday was the 365th blog entry here -- a virtual year! To celebrate, Marianne and I went to see Scapin at St. Stephen's Theater. Terrific stuff. You rarely go wrong with Moliere, of course, but the always-reliable Lantern Theater Company outdid themselves. The set was brilliant, the puppets were fantastic in both senses of the word, and Benjamin Lloyd in the title role was superb. From now on, I'm going to keep an eye out for anything he appears in.
And I had a dream . . .
. . . last night. A conventional one, not a writing-in-my-sleep one. In it, a batch of the Loud Philadelphians (as we're known) made a group trip to a late-night radio station where Gardner Dozois was to be interviewed. Honorary LP (though he is the quietest of men) Ricky Kagan provided transportation. He'd gotten a job transporting coffins, so we emptied them out of the company van to make room for us all.
"There's a dead guy in here, " Tess Kissinger said as we piled the coffins up in the parking lot. "I heard the body thump!"
Off we went. But at the radio station, there were technical difficulties and the taping kept getting delayed. Gardner began to fret that we wouldn't get back before the shift change, and we would get in trouble for mistreating corpses.
"You know," I said, "I'd thought the Age of Stories was over for us. That we'd all gotten so old, we were going to spend the rest of our lives re-telling old stories. But here we are, making a new one!"
End of dream. The holiday seasons have begun, and I'm feeling good will toward everyone here. May your Age of Stories never end.