Home Again, Again

Hot damn, I have 87 followers.  How cool am I?  Pretty cool, that's how.  In case you wondered.
So, once again, we spent the weekend in St. George.  I know, right?  Who goes down to St. George in this absurd heat?  We do, that's who!  And, it was hot down there, no question.  But, as one of my friends likes to remind me, it isn't really THAT hot according to the heat index because it's dry and humidity makes things seem hotter.  To which I reply, No Sh**, Sherlock, why do you think I live in the desert?  Silly.
Yesterday, we decided to take the time to go out to Tuacahn.  Now, I don't often go out there when I am down that way, because, being the emotional basketcase that I sometimes am, it makes me a wee bit depressed.  I posted a bit last time about my experiences down there.  I had a FANTASTIC time. Some of the most enjoyable summers of my entire life.  Beat, of course, by the time I spent in London, but, honestly, like anything could outdo LONDON. (I'm an Anglophile, in case you hadn't noticed, but that is a post for another time)
So, I decided to take my anti-depressants and risk the trip.  ;)

It was much as I remembered.  Especially the smell.  It hit me as I stepped out of my air conditioned conveyance into the summer heat.  That smell.  Sage and dust and mold and water and dryness.  Oh, I do love it.
They have added quite a few things to the stage and a nice bit of storage for costumes up above the scene shop.  We walked up to the amphitheatre and down the steps to the stage.  On the stage were some largish signs sayin "No Public On Stage, Please.", so we naturally sallied forth.  Onto said stage.  Made the Small One a bit skittish, it did.  "Mamma, are you sure we are allowed to be up here?"  "Yes, dear, Daddy and I are not the Public.  We once worked here."  Then of course, she wanted to know where I worked.  There was no need to ask WHAT I did.  She's perfectly aware of that.
So, we wandered about backstage for a moment, remembering this, that, or the other.  There's the spot on which I was standing when the horses freaked out and Warnick's horse nearly ran me down.  There's where the carwash used to be.  Wasn't there a chicken coop here?  Oh, here's where the barn fell into the pond! (At which point, I always dissolve into giggles, because, man, that was FUNNY.  TMOTH was not happy when that happened).
And then, Wonder of Wonders, Miracle of Miracles (did you see what I did there?) the Costume Building was open!  Of course, I had to go in.   And once again, the smell.  I love scents.  I love what they remind me of, how they open the floodgate of memories.  The smell in the costume building, when describes, sounds rather disgusting.  And, you know, it probably is.  Disgusting, I mean.  The dressing rooms are cooled by swamp cooler, which sounds like a good idea, but really isn't.  Dampness? Not a great thing with sweaty costumes.  So, the building smells of dampness, sweat, hairspray, starch, fabric, laundry, red dirt, sweaty performers.   That sort of thing.  Which combined, smells like...good times.  Work.  Friends.  Theatre.  Youth. Freedom. Happiness.  Silliness.  All of it.  And it is delightful.
As we walked in, a woman poked her head out of the shop.  Hello?  This building isn't open.
Me-Oh!  I used to work here.
Her-Oh, then come on in! When were you here and who was shop foreman at the time?
-Well, I was.
-What is your name?
-Tara.
-I've heard of you!
Me, secretly thinking, I hope they were good things!  Apparently, they were, because she promptly invited me to come back and work next summer.
Then she told me about how she can tell looking at costumes that they used to really spend money on getting professionals down there because some of those costumes are so well made that they might never die and they just keep using pieces over and over again.  Which costumes?  Oh, yes, some of those were MINE.  I did them.  Yep, I am that awesome. (don't get me wrong, I never designed down there.  Designing is not my forte.  I am a technician.  And a damn fine one.  Although, apparently, DIFFICULT to work with.  That's another post, however)
Anyway, all in all, it was a pleasant experience.  Professional courtesy is awesome.  It was great fun to be able to walk into an off limits area and get treated like I belonged there.  Sounds silly, I expect, but those sorts of things are good for my ego.
Then, we went up to the Tuacahn sign at the front and The Small One caught about 20 tiny frogs.  We only let her keep 4.