Finally, in St. Charles, Missouri, just 25 minutes outside St. Louis, I had some family come see the show. My Baba Roz and Zadie Larry, my grandparents on my father's side, came and brought their friends, the Gellman's, who also saw my tour of Oliver! when it came through St. Charles.
I arranged for them to have a "Meet and Greet," which is basically where friends and family get to take pictures with the cast before the show. This is right up my grandmother's alley. For forty years, she has kept the same camera and I've never seen her without it. Finally, she and Zadie acquired a new one, so we could all preview the various pictures we took just moments after we took them. After the Meet and Greet, I finished getting ready for the show and hit the stage. What a delight to finally have some fans in the audience! This was already the second show of the day, but I had tons of energy. Our audiences in St. Charles were also great - packed arenas and enthusiastic but not too crazy kids. I spotted my Baba and Zadie in the third row house right snapping pictures and pointing me out to their seatmates the entire time.
And after the show, they just kept raving about how good everything was. The singing, the dancing the costumes. They took me to one of St. Louis' esteemed Italian restaurants, Fratelli's, for dinner after the show. They had made a reservation ahead of time, and alerted the owner that they would be coming for dinner with a New York actress in tow. Would he be interested in meeting me? (Yes). And could he make a vegetarian rendition of St. Louis' legendary toasted ravioli? (No). Sure enough, when we sat down, they asked the waitress to bring out the owner for the promised introductions. John, the owner, was very gracious and complimentary and said, yes, he would be honored to have my headshot on his wall, would I please send it right away to my grandparents, and could he recommend the manicotti, he would be happy to prepare it without meat sauce. I said yes and yes. His manicotti was indeed superb, as well as the breaded mushrooms, cavatelli alfredo, and even cappucino. It was one of the best meals I've had in months.
My grandparents also gave me a very cute black sweater for Hannukah that can go over any of my insufficiently warm shirts to protect me against the Midwest winter I seem to be stuck in. And the Gellmans gave me an adorable notebook from a consignment shop - it bears the cover and title page of a used book and is then filled with blank pages. The book is called "Give Us Our Dreams." I thought it was perfect. And ironically, while I couldn't find a menorah in Oklahoma City because they don't exist there, my grandmother could not find a menorah for me in St. Louis because they're all sold out. So it looks like I'll be waiting for our holiday break in a couple weeks to light the candles for Hannukah.
The last thing my grandmother gave me was a small tupperware of homemade cookies. All my life I've heard what a wonderful cook my Baba is. After all, my dad is an excellent cook, and he learned from his mother. I've had several of my dad's dishes which are delicious, and afterwards he will then credit his mother, saying she taught him how to make such and such. I was too full last night after Fratelli's to try even one (plus we were staying at the Doubletree and they gave me a cookie as soon as I walked in from dinner). But after today's four hour bus ride before our four hour rehearsal, I opened the plastic dish. They were oatmeal cranberry white chocolate chip cookies with peanut butter drizzle. And there were only six, because my grandmother knows how healthy I am. I put one in my mouth, bit down, and it tasted...perfect. Not too rich or buttery but like all my favorite flavors just happened to be in my mouth. I've already had two today, and I gave one to Megan, and three more await me. I think I may have another one before bed.
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