Picture: Jack and Algernon being 'Ernest' in Oscar Wilde's play during original London run in the 1890s.
Heel, I mean hello, Bloggers. Sorry, I was looking at one of my dogs. One of the dastardly pack that trashed my kitchen with garbage and ate my giant Valentine cookie on Saturday last. The self same pack that broke into one of the kitchen cabinets on Sunday afternoon while Danny and I were at a production of Oscar Wilde's play, The Importance of Being Ernest at Rollins College.
Now, being Ernest was certainly important to the character of Jack Worthing who earnestly sought the hand of his fair lady Gwendolyn on stage. Little did we know that while we were laughing at Oscar Wilde's clever and witty lines and puns as enacted by the Rollins Players and guest star Dana Ivey of Broadway and Hollywood fame, Chili and Ginny earnestly sought another rascally thing to do to entertain themselves and since stealing food is always entertaining to dogs, they gave it their best shot. Yes, boys and girls, they raided the cabinet that housed their large bag of dry dog kibble. Formerly housed it, that is.
When we stopped home to feed them after the play before going out for dinner, we discovered the tell tail evidence of their deed. They'd fed themselves, like frat boys at a hot dog eating contest. The cabinet door was open, the large bag of Purina lay open on its side, and Ginny was so swollen that she resembled a canine Hindenburg.
I know it was Chili who opened the door since I've caught her opening cabinet doors with her paw before. I'm sure Abby and Chili partook of their ill gotten impromptu dinner as much as Ginny did. Unfortunately for them, they are real dogs who live in the moment not super smart literary or cinema dogs like Lassie who would have not only eaten all the spilled kibble (erasing all trace of the caper) but who would have pushed the bag back into the cabinet and shut the door again. That's why Lassie had her own book and became a film star while Ginny and Chili were only fat and gassy.
Fortunately, nobody got really sick for gorging kibble. Chili had another really bad epileptic seizure though and fell off the couch onto the hardwood floor. That's three so far since February 2nd. Not good.
Better news: the Realtor had an Open House at my mother's while we were at Oscar's play and my dogs were playing in kibble. She had thirteen groups come through the house at the open house as well as seven Realtors show the house during the first five days on the market. Which is phenomenal in this crappy market. Even more remarkably, one couple has toured the house three times already and the Realtor expects a contract offer tonight or tomorrow morning.
Which is not to say the offer will come. Or that it will be an acceptable offer. Still, it is very encouraging. Maybe I learned something about staging and pricing a property while enduring seven months of unsuccessfully trying to sell my own house last year. Hope so. Selling Mom's house will enable me to pay off my mortgage, which after all, was my reason for wanting to sell my own house. I'm happy to stay put and continue updating. I'll be happier without a big monthly payment.
Today I was one of a lucky couple dozen folks to join ( Rollins theater alum and sorority sister) actress Dana Ivey for lunch at Rollins President's house. Aside from the beautiful lakeside setting, the dandy lunch, and the privilege of dining in the presence of a Tony winning actress, I got to sit with other Rollins alums and friends who I've worked with on the Art festival board. Also present was the alumni advisor of my sorority (Phi Mu) in college, a lovely lady from my old Orlando book club, a handful of folks from my time working for Orlando Opera, the Civic Theater and the Annie Russell Guild. Even a retired ambassador who was a neighbor in my kid-hood days in Pittsburgh! Almost, but not quite, makes me want to get re-involved in volunteering in the arts community again. I used to meet so many interesting people that way. But, these days, I seem to want to write and redo the house.
Ta ta for now, bloggers. The television calls me to slothful behavior unless the dogs bark me into a walk.