I am lying on an antique, four poster bed that you have to use a step stool to reach. Yes, you do have to use the step stool. I tried without it. Epic Fail.
Saturdays I spend the night at our stage manager's house (for "Butterflies Are Free"). She's a long time actress packed with stories about life...hitchhiking across Europe, her days as a hippee...you know, those kinds. Her life is one serendipity upon the next it seems.
Last week she took me to an Episcopal church. I had never been to an Episcopal church. I had flashbacks of me visiting a Catholic church for the "stations of the cross" and kneeling and standing a full 30 seconds behind everyone else. I nervously joined the long line of people getting up for communion wanting to make sure I did not offend tradition. I carefully watched the people in front of me to make sure I got it right: I cupped my hands...right over left (I think) was given a piece of the bread, dipped the bread in the cup (I noticed some people drinking out of it...but sourdough floaties didn't look too appealing to me). Just as I popped the bread into my mouth and breathed a sigh of relief that I didn't screw anything up...Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! I notice that there is ANOTHER CUP. Well, I couldn't do anything about it because the bread was already in my mouth. I sweated my way back to my seat, thinking "Great. I took the body. I took the blood. I probably opted out of the resurrection! They probably think I'm Jewish." After the service I was told that the third cup was non-alcoholic. Close one.
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