flying by the seat of my pants skirt

Our church celebrated it's 150th anniversary today with an extra special service filled with skits, singing, liturgy, and a band. Julia and I were part of the skit near the beginning and I was a bit nervous about how she would sit still through the whole thing. The plan was to sneak out the door if she got too squirmy. To be sure I could make a quiet exit I took her up to practice sitting and leaving. While I was up there I talked with another actor about the skit when she mentioned something about my lines. "What lines? I don't have any lines! Nobody said anything about lines!" We were only suppose to be filler - to add to the ambiance, but there in black and white was the script with my part. Disaster averted - or so I thought.

At least my lines were short. Problem was that I could barely pronounce the name I was suppose to introduce myself as. Try spitting out Fredericke Moesher under pressure. I didn't have time to worry about it then because I still needed to walk through the plan of how to hand off Julia to Brian and get back to my spot in the choir. As I was walking out of the sanctuary a different actor tried to give me a script. "Oh that's OK," I said. "I already have one." She insisted that I take it. Fine. I did, and carried it around with me for five minutes before glancing down at it. Where it used to say Fredericke (which I was still sputtering out like that Swiss tennis player's name - Roger Feder-er-er), it said Maria Plocher. I should be happy right? New name, much easier to pronounce but......my line, "Hi. My name is Maria Plocher. My husband, Loois, is out in the barn finish up some things...." Great. Now I had to find someone to give me the correct pronunciation of Loois (FYI - it's like Louis).

Fast forward to the part in the service where Julia and I enter for the skit. She settles into the rocker and I sit down next to her. Right away someone whispers, "Do you have another copy of the script?" Not having an extra, or really that many lines, I hand over my script. Now I don't know when I'm suppose to say my lines, all I remember is my name, and if you think it can't get any worse, you are sorely mistaken. I'm given my script milliseconds before I"m to say my lines, but manage to pull it off OK. I even have the where-with-all to jump in when the guy after me doesn't remember his line. Unfortunately I wasn't fast enough - he started his line anyway. Instead of saying, "and who do we have here?" He said, "and who's he?" In front of 150 people I squeaked out. "She?" After everyone had a good laugh the skit continued. Julia was perfect. She folder her hands when the pastor prayed, she sat quietly and listened while I whispered in her ear, the words to the books we had brought.

There was a silver lining to all this craziness - I was so busy before the service started that I didn't have time to stress about my solo - the acapella one that opened the service and was the foundation for the choir when they joined me on the second verse.