Snapple Cap On Tap

           A quick rewind as we move into the third significant “yes, and” moment: Late February of 2019, the local community theater had auditions for a musical called “Hands on a Hardbody” (my overenthusiastic review of that will surface eventually). But what’s more, I actually suggested to the theater that they look into this show last year. AND THEY DID AND DECIDED TO DO IT. I WAS SO DAMN EXCITED, IT’S OBSCENE. I realized one night, after debating whether or not to try out and ultimately deciding to do so, that I could not be in this show—my vacation time fell during the last weekend of shows. I was disappointed. I was frustrated. I was surprised at how much it aggravated me. Finally, I came to the conclusion that even if I couldn’t be IN the show, I would find a way to be as involved as humanly possible. I showed up to auditions and explained my position to the director, who, for some reason, just sorta nodded and was like, “Yeah, that’s cool, rehears...

          I last left you with my history of improv and the theory of “yes, and”—we’ll pick up from there.             I’m not sure what’s in the water, but I seem to be encountering an unusually large number of “yes, and” situations lately. Let’s take a quick look at the most significant ones of 2019 so far: A simple one to start—I met my friend, Seth, in yoga at the local YMCA. He once upon a time was a doctor who commuted to hospitals by helicopter, and now he splits his time between our tiny little southern town and sailing around the world while writing a novel. …Okay. Right. Totally normal. To say I was fascinated by his story would be an understatement. After a couple weekly yoga classes, I finally got to know what his novel was about (still under wraps for you general public folk) and somehow it came up in conversation that I was an English major with a writing concentration. What follo...