She's Back!

Anyone who knows me knows that my favorite all time theater production is Les Miserables. I have seen it three times, including one fantastic night on Broadway. The story. The music. The characters. They rope you in and hold you there, making you feel their pain and their joys, their sorrows and their victories. It's a tremendous 2 hours that is filled with history, war, romance, and comedy.

When I saw it on Broadway, it was the one of the last performances slotted for the US. I couldn't imagine not having the opportunity to see it over and over again. I desperately wanted them to put the musical production on DVD. What I wouldn't pay for a DVD of the actual theater performance!

In 2006, they brought the show back to Broadway! Since it never stopped running in London, Les Miz is now the world's longest running theater production in history with more than 54 million veiwers in London alone! The idea of seeing the show again is something that excites me more than I believe anyone truly understands. I wish I could pass my passion on for this show to others and have them enjoy it the way I do, but to each his/her own, right.

With a husband I absolutely adore and a new job at a law firm I love, I am truly blessed. My favorite hockey team has managed to not stink as badly as they have the past two years. My parents' health aside, I couldn't be happier. Now, if God gets my mother through radiation successfully, fixes the problem that is plaguing my father with his eyesight, and blesses my husband and I with a child, I would feel elated. That's not asking too much, right.

As much as I love Les Miz, the show must come to an end. I know that. The actors will bow and the curtains will close. Life, like so many other things that we enjoy, must come to an end.

Those who know me also know that my favorite author is William Shakespeare. Few people know that my favorite quote from the Bard talks about life and death and all the stages we play on in between.

All the world's a stage,And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,His acts being seven ages.
At first the infant,Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snailUnwillingly to school.
And then the lover,Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow.
Then a soldier,Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputationEven in the cannon's mouth.
And then the justice,In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part.
The sixth age shiftsInto the lean and slipper'd pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipesAnd whistles in his sound.
Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.