Just around the corner to the light of day (hey hey hey)

Upright & functional at 10am, I consider that a triumph. And did my good deed for the day. The Spanish couple who were checking in yesterday when I was were down at breakfast. The breakfast lady was speaking to them in way that you talk to people who don't speak your language: LOUDLY. Trying to ascertain how they wanted their eggs. I inserted myself in the conversation and said: the Spanish word for eggs is huevos. Ah, huevos! They said. Scrambled or fried asked the breakfast lady, and I was at a loss. Fortunately, someone ELSE spoke Spanish, and the egg dilemma was shortly solved.

The sugar packets at the table all had little Irish sayings on them, with the translation. The first one I picked up (for of course I read the entire sugar holder) read: "Ni haon maith a bheith ag caoineadh nuair a imionn an tsochraid," which means There's no good in keening when the funeral has moved off. (Keen!) Then there was: "Is giorra cabhair De na an doras" which means God's help is nearer than the door. A comforting thought.

I had a chat with the managers in the lobby; one of them was at the top of a ladder, carefully removing the dangly bits from a chandelier to wash them. My sister used to have a chandelier in her dining room, and it was a half-day job to wash the crystals in vinegar and water and put them all back. They have 3 chandeliers. The managers are , in fact, very houseproud, and it does the place good. I was told that the staff has mostly been there many years, as opposed to the seasonal workers who flit in and out (quote unquote) at places like, dare I say, the Travelodge. (I've been hearing about it via everyone else in the company, and the reviews are mixed).

I meant to talk a little more about the shorts last night (before I lost the battle with sleepiness). They were at the Cobalt Cafe, which is essentially the drawing and front rooms of a beautiful old Georgian mansion. It was a very simple playing space, with our own Aimee and Ryan trading off on running sound and lights between the first and second acts. Steven, Ron and I grabbed seats in the front because the stage was pretty much the front of the room. Someone went to move the piano from a corner and was immediately stopped, and I thought: They have to work around the piano. Just like the Duplex! The room was packed, probably 40 or more people.

There were six pieces, the first a short verse play called "Blind Mating" written by Vicky Curtis, who performed it with Rose E. Markowitz. It was a sweet piece about internet dating (and its pitfalls) and I loved Vicky's outfit, particularly the oversized boxers with the legend "MY LUCKY PANTS" and a shamrock sticking out over her jeans.

"Emily Breathes" was up next, and Hunter Gilmore & Greg Homison played beautifully to the intimate audience. I wish Matt Casarino, who wrote the piece, could have come over to see it. But he should be proud.

Brian Merriman wrote Tumbling Down, a "family" piece set in the late 80s about a young gay man telling his gay "parents" about truly falling in love for the first time. It was filled with local slang and references that were perfectly readable in context, and gave a serious but hopeful picture of gay life in Ireland when it was still criminal to be queer.

Mammy's Boy was my favorite piece of the evening: a woman and her sister go to the fancy restaurant where her son has just gotten a job as a waiter. Hilarity ensues. Beautifully written by Suzanne Lakes and performed by her, Ciara McGuinness and Elijah Egan, it was funny and true and I laughed like a maniac.

Then there was EAT's Tom Cruise Get off the Couch, and fortunately, Kevin Brofsky will have a chance to see his play later this week. The boys (Jason, Kaolin & Joe) brought the funny on a couch that kept moving and a giant sort of duvet stuffed with pillows for the dog bed.

Finally, we saw Connubial Celt, by Shawn Sturnick, a surreal piece in modern dress set in the days of Brian Boru, featuring his gay son, the son's Viking lover, a lesbian Druidess and the ghosts of the son's unborn children, played ably by paper bags and voiced by two actresses. It finished with a song and dance something like: because we're Irish, we're only happy when we're unhappy. Lovely.

The piece ran past 9:30, so I couldn't hit a second show, but I'll remedy that tonight. Wish me luck! Off to change hotels again...