The costume expert gathered some Victorian clothes for us to try, and I find a suit that fits just about perfect. It's my first time with a high-waist button-fly, and slapstick ensued. The suit lapels are tattered, and I like that; it fits Cratchit. She also bought a Halloween costume for the Future Ghost to wear, and I try it on. It's small. The hem is at my shins, the belt is laughably tiny, and the gloves don't fit (you must acquit). I suggest a trip to the remaining Halloween stores for cheap clearance sales. I'd like gloves with skeleton designs to make my hands visible and spooky.
The ghost is a comic character here. He speaks in a vague spectral yodeling until Scrooge unveils the ghost scam: They didn't show him his future; they made it up to spook him. My ghost faints when the jig is up, and he blanches at direct questioning. We play with my voice for the best comic effect. The translator actor isn't here tonight, and another person reads along with me. In fact, a lot of folks aren't here tonight, and we run a full act with four people and the director. It's disappointing.
I'd like to memorize my Act Two Cracthit lines this weekend. That's five pages. The ghost has eleven-ish pages of noises, but all my pages combined are still barely a quarter of the entire play.
+ + +You can follow the presidential transition at change.gov.
Picture of the Day
This is the ghost costume as it's sold. We're ditching all the purple and probably the mask. The hood will cover my head entirely. The pimp medallion is gone too. I'd also prefer to have the robe drape the floor to hide my shoes.