Striking Gold In The Yukon!

Deb: A few weeks back, we had the pleasure of working with The National Theatre Of The World, which allowed us the privilege of going to the Yukon with them! They are not only amazing talented actors, they are our good friends. When Colin was asked to fill in as a third member for the Yukon gigs, he jumped on it and I jumped right after him, relishing the chance to see Whitehorse in the Yukon with no intention of performing.

Our friend Naomi, one of the founders of The National Theatre Of The World, asked me if I wanted to join in any of the shows. I kept an open mind about it and decided I would wait to see how I felt when I got there. We blogged about them before so please check out that old post for the full concept of who they are.

Along with the Script Tease Project and Carnegie Hall, they also do Impromptu Splendor, which is what they were doing in the Yukon. Far away from home and without the pressure of people I might know in the audience, I decided to do the all three shows under the Impromptu Splendor banner, and it was a great decision. Impromptu Splendor works this way. Each night the troupe improvises a play in the style of a famous playwright, and for the Yukon tour, they were doing Anton Chekov, Tennessee Williams, and David Mamet. Let me tell you for nothing that it is the most exhilarating project. I had only done one with them before in Toronto and it was in the style of Noel Coward. It was a blast and so me being me, I decided I best leave well enough alone. But lately in my quest to challenge myself to do that which I fear, I went with it whole hog! It was such fun and all that improv should be. In a supportive atmosphere, anything in life is satisfying, isn’t it? Naomi Snieckus, Mike Fly, Colin Mochrie and Deb McGrath were the improvisers for this trip!  With a nod to my worn voice, (having done a mini-tour with my husband for our new show together—more to come on that) and the fact that I am not great with the impov games at this point in my unpracticed improv career, I chose to only do act one: the plays. No regrets there, as I sat in the green room wine in hand, laughing and loving them in act two. When we landed in the Yukon after a full-day two flights of travel, Naomi got right off the plane and conducted impov workshops that day and the next. Out of the workshops she chose some local improvisers to join in the games-set every night with great results. Not only did we get to see them perform, but we got to know their lovely selves a little.

The company was brought to Whitehorse by Eric Epstein who acts as both talent scout and host, excelling at both and traveling around to find wonderful artists to grace his stage at the Yukon Centre of the Arts. Let me tell you, it is an artistic community. They have an enviable and vibrant artistic scene and we look forward to a time when we can go back again and be a part of it. The audiences are smart and well-versed in what they are seeing. It was a privilege to perform for them.

As for the Yukon itself, stunning, friendly, air as cold and pure as the air in year one. When crossing the road as pedestrians, were treated to drivers who stopped if we even looked like we were thinking about crossing the road. We ate lots of good food, but became regulars at a wonderful spot called BurntToast, boasting a fab menu and lovely, young hipsters with warm and welcoming demeanors.

We are coming back Yukon. You can’t keep all that lovely to yourselves.

Barbara: I’ve seen a few Impromptu Splendor shows here in Toronto. I’ve been waiting for us to blog about them—because they ROCK! I mean, there is nothing quite like the experience of watching a recognizable shape and sound of a show (ie, David Mamet-inspired) and howling with laughter at the genius of these improvisers capturing it in the moment, absolutely making it up as they go along, and creating compelling story and character arcs. I wish I could’ve been there to share it with you: both the shows (and by "share", I mean "watch") and the Yukon. Wonderful!

Dawning On Us

Deb: In the continuing theme of “Spring Posing as Fall”, the wonderful celebrations and encounters continue to mount. I had a perfect lunch with an old friend a few days ago, which really changed the way I was thinking about a number of things—for the better. Colin and I went to see Louis C.K. whom we love and who was doing all new material. Is there anything, I mean anything like laughing your guts out for two hours? Man! Barb, our friend Cheryl, and our dogs started a just-for-fun dog agility program and small breed off-lead day at a wonderful place in Toronto called Pawsway, and that was sweet and fun, and again with the laughter! Barb and I spent Saturday night at Nuit Blanche and, as Barb put it, it’s always one of the highlights of the year. More on that from Barb this week. I am about to embark on a trip to NYC this week with my husband and six other friends to celebrate two of our friends’ milestone birthdays. It is the autumn/spring that just keeps on giving and teaching and renewing. 

What could possibly top that you might ask? Well, something did. And it was certainly not a trip or a huge art event, but rather a small, casual lunch with a very special gal. We met Dawn! Yes, Dawn. Dawn from the blog, Dawn with the quiet wit and the always interesting intelligent point of view. Dawn was in town to see three Who’s Live shows that were in the surrounding areas of Toronto. I said to her that I thought it was amazing that she should design her hobby and travel for laughs. Dawn travels for laughs. She is a laugh collector. But like a lawyer with just one client, Dawn collects her laughs from one main source. Who’s Line and its improvisers. Not that she needed to prove her devotion to all things Who’s Line, but we walked her to her car at the end of the lunch to see her bumper stickers and her very special license plate. It is a combination of Mochrie and Sherwood and she came up with the perfect mash up: MOCHWD! MOCHWOOD. Dawn, don’t tell Brad that Colin got top billing! And in the continuing theme of laughter, Dawn had a bumper sticker that killed us. It says: “Save the trees. Wipe your ass with an owl!”

I was enthralled with Dawn’s Boston accent, one of my favourites. I collect accents as a hobby for trying out in the shower, and Dawn’s was perfect Bostonian. At discovering my passion for the accent, Dawn said, “What do you guys call a pair of green pants that aren’t jeans?” We said, “Khakis”. She said, “No,” reaching into her purse and pulling out her car keys, “these are Khakis!”  We laughed so hard. Try it. If you say khakis when describing your car keys, you have begun to master your Boston accent.

The visit with Dawn also inspired an idea for Barb and I to go to Boston and D.C. with our husbands in the spring and we will see Dawn then. We didn’t talk about anything too deep and the lunch was wayyyyyyyy too short, much like the coffee we had with Kate some months back, but it did its job. We connected. We wanted to spend more time with her and we will. She is a very special gal. And when we go to Boston, we will most certainly not lack for a parking space. After all, we can “pak a’ ca’ in the Hava’d ya’d!”

Thanks, Dawn, for being exactly who you are. It was our honour and pleasure.

Barbara: Now, I know you guys aren’t asking why our lunch with Dawn was so short, but I’m gonna tell you anyway. You know when you look forward to something special and you’re planning your day around that thing and then other non-negotiable things begin to pop up to sort of squish the first thing—the special one—like egg salad in a sandwich? Well, that happened to Dawn and us. First, there was the particular timing of the Pawsway schedule which meant we had to leave Dawn at 2pm. Then I got an audition at 2:45 for which I needed to drop Deb off and get to the middle of the city, which meant we now had to leave at 1:30. And then I got another audition right before our lunch, which almost threatened to compromise our start time! I’m telling you all this because normally this kind of loaded day would stress the hell out of me, but meeting Dawn was so … comfortable. Really, it felt like we’d done this a million times before. And maybe because we kinda have, communing every day on every kind of subject here on the blog. I want to thank you too, Dawn, for the talk, the laughs, and the friendship!

How We Celebrated International Women’s Day

Deb and Laurel

Barbara: Because we love and honour you women so much, of course we had to acknowledge this most important day: International Women’s Day. Yesterday morning, Deb was invited to speak at a breakfast hosted by Ontario MPP, Laurel Broten (a smashingly lovely, articulate, and sincere politician). I accompanied Deb—to my great delight. Because Deb is a damn good speaker. As you can imagine, she is charming and funny and insightful and compassionate.

She used this chance to speak from the heart about what being a woman means to her. She asked me if her speech was too long to publish to the blog—and I answered, as we often do, that people can read as much or as little as they choose. But I can’t imagine anyone choosing to skim it (although you can skim the (unexpected) parts about me ;) ); Deb’s speech is fantastic. Of course I am always aware of how amazing Deb is, but she still manages to surprise me and take it to a whole other level. She makes me so so proud. So here is Deb’s Women’s Day speech in all its unadulterated glory!

Deb: In honour of International Woman’s Day, I want to talk about the joy of the female presence in my life. I say “female presence” not only because of the women in my life, but because I am blessed to have in my family two men who are very much in touch with their feminine side. I am married to actor Colin Mochrie and we have one beautiful 21-year-old boy, Luke. Colin, for his part, cries like a girl during So You Think You Can Dance. It is sweet—and yes, I got his permission to share that. 

When we had a boy, we thought, “Okay, here we go, hockey, baseball, soccer. But the boy had other plans. Ballet, jazz, musicals, modern art. When he was around ten, he decided to add a game to family game nights. He called it: Luke Goes on a Date. I would play his “date” and my husband would be relegated to play bus driver, chauffeur, waiter, cab driver, and that ilk.  He had to reconcile himself to being a “special business extra” in our son’s dating life. So we would play the game and Luke would take his part very seriously, as would I (Oedipal implications aside).

At the end of playing our very first time, our son broke down in tears. We were shocked, especially Colin who felt that he had particularly excelled at the role of the valet guy. We asked the boy what was wrong. God bless him, through tears he said, “It’s just that, some day, some day it’s going to be real!”

One day when playing the date game, he stopped in his tracks as we fake-walked into a restaurant, “Mom what do I do about the door. Should I open the door for my date? Will she like it; will she be upset?” And I said, “Luke, here are the three stages of opening the door in a woman’s life. In her teens she will think it is sweet and romantic because she is all squishy about the prospect of love and romance. In her college years she will reel on you. ‘Why the hell are you opening the door for me for? Am I helpless, am I an idiot? Do I not know how the damn handle works?!’ In her middle years, she will be comfortable with her equal role to men and be grateful for the thoughtful gesture, secure in the fact that masculine and feminine have nothing to do with equality.” He soaked it all up like a sponge and, although he is only going on 22, he has had a great relationship with a beautiful young woman for three lovely years. I’d like to think I had something to do with that. Me and his cab-driving dad.

I am a lucky woman, my friends tell me, as my husband does all the cooking, grocery shopping, and laundry. I know what you’re thinking: What the hell do you do? I think my son said it best when asked to describe what his parents did for an essay at the age of 6. After listing Colin’s jobs for two long pages, he finished with: “Mommy lights the candles and pours the wine.” He was exaggerating a little, of course. I now use battery candles that are on timers, leaving me extra time to allow the wine to breath.

But in my defense, my husband LOVES to cook. It is his hobby and his joy. And he does the shopping because he does the cooking. He does it alone because he says, and I quote, “You just slow me down.” And he does laundry because—given the vastness of my wardrobe—I need only do laundry twice a year, during summer and winter solstice. My husband on the other hand has enough socks and underwear to last exactly two weeks. That is the way he likes it—and who am I to argue if a few of my items get cleaned in the mix. I am just that kind of collaborating partner.

And believe me, I do plenty. Believe you me. I know it sounds like I doth protest too much and I admit that my list would sound lame if I spouted it off, but I do what every other woman I know does, I keep our family afloat; I keep all the cogs greased and turning; I keep all the balls in the air. Okay I know that sounds like I am generalizing because I have no real list, but it’s not. All I know is, I never sit down. You are going to have to trust me on that.

So, branching out from the TESTROGEN in my house (just invented that word), I am surrounded by a wealth of wonderful women. I have tons of dear friends, some that I have had from the age of five whose relationships I still cultivate. But I have also come to friendships later in life that surprised the heck out of me. One such relationship is my guest here today. My wonderful and charming friend and writing partner, Barbara Radecki. We have collaborated on TV scripts, movies, and the project closest to our hearts: our blog, The Middle Ages. When I met Barbara in 2001 doing a film together I was instantly struck by her charm, gentle manner, energy and haunting beauty. But I had no interest in pursuing a friendship with her—and not because she was a shade taller than me (6 inches) and a tad prettier (waayyyy prettier). You know how it is when the friend roster is packed to capacity and you barely have enough time for the friends you currently have? Well, that was the case here. 

Barbara and I had started shooting a film called Expecting on the unfortunate start date of 9/11 and the day after, Barb went to her local mall to get some school stuff for her girls. The short story is that as she sat in the parking lot chatting with her husband on the phone who was in Windsor on business and she suddenly found herself the target of an attempted carjacking. Suddenly she was kicking and screaming as she fought off her aggressor, a man wearing a scarf around his face demanding the car. She kicked his ass from here to there. The next day I asked her how she did it? Wasn’t she scared? How could she kick and scream and win? She simply said, “After 9/11, I was not going to be a victim.” And I thought, “DAMN, gotta make room for this one in my life. Gotta. That girl is the whole package and I need this special gal in my life!”

I think woman are stupendous creatures and not just the stuff of the online poems and platitudes that I get in my inbox every day. Now, make no mistake, I am not casting aspersions at the Irma Bombeckian bombardment. On the contrary, I love Irma. She was one of the great broads. But I will warn you. If you send me one of these, I tell you in advance that I will not be forwarding them to 5 fabulous women I know and sitting by the computer to see if I get five back. Apparently getting five back in the yard stick by which my worth as a fabulous woman is measured. My reasons are this: I am secure enough at this stage of my life to know that I am fabulous and insecure enough to sit waiting all day, staring at my inbox, obsessing over how many I am getting back or not.

Because of our blog, The Middle Ages, I am now lucky enough to also be warmly surrounded by women from all over world. These women come in the form of teenagers and grandmothers, and everything in between, with every point of view imaginable. My world of woman is branching out thanks to our blog. Oh, and if you are thinking of joining the party, keep in mind that typing “blogspot” is imperative after “The Middle Ages”, unless of course you are interested in medieval forms of torture and tales of scurvy and the plague.

Because of all my women, young and old, far and wide, family and friend, with their voices secure in my heart and in my everyday life, I really don’t need the little daily reminders of what women are. I know what women are, as I have seen the stuff of which they are made every day throughout my life.

The women in my life are the people who drop off coolers of food to my 85-year-old parents to lessen their load. They arrive at my doorstep when they know I need a face-to-face and can’t ask. They sit at deathbeds ushering a fellow human out of this life when others can’t take it. They plant gardens and send flowers. They keep the family traditions going year after year. They emphasize the beauty in this world when it is threatened by the bad. They keep their relationship conversations going in good times and bad and refuse to be silent and let issues slide. They stand up for other women. They do not paint all men with a single brush. They judge each human as a human first. And yes platitudes abound as we laugh till we pee while we eat chocolate and watch An Affair to Remember. Thank God there are plenty of those good times. But when times are bad, these women are the people I turn around and see in front of me. They are the one’s asking, “What can I do?”