Sometimes, we just can't help ourselves. Sometimes a lot of a good thing is still a good thing.
We're long-time fans of Paula Poundstone (yes, we know about all that unfortunate business in her personal history). We enjoy her humor regularly on our favorite radio program, "Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me" (http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=35) and on TV from time to time. Last March, I wrote a little bit about our little trip to Sacramento to see her perform at the Crest Theater, downtown. We sat about two-thirds up into the sizable and sold-out audience and thoroughly enjoyed it!
A couple of months ago, we heard that she'd be coming to appear at Center for the Arts here in Grass Valley. Really. Little Grass Valley. 300 seats. Tom ordered tickets at 12:01 am on the first day they were available. That was probably unnecessary given the general admission seats and laid-back, circa-baby-boomer crowd, but just in case... About two weeks ago, I saw on Facebook that, because Saturday night was sold out, they were adding a Friday night show. We did hesitate. About last Wednesday, though, we caved.
(By the by, I saw that smirk when I mentioned that I saw the info about the second performance on Facebook. Yes, I'm an official PP FB fan. Many days, she posts little silly quips all day long. It's fun. Check it out.)
Anyway, last Friday night, we arrived early enough to sit anywhere we wanted and chose the third row, center, about 15 feet from the microphone. We laughed all night. You might know that she uses about 50 percent of her time on stage interacting with the audience members--usually twisting their words a bit to create something absurd out of the fairly mundane. She's a master. Plus, at intermission we each bought a cookie for a $1 each. Good ones, too.
Next evening, being fleet of mind AND feet (like little rats after the cheese), we repeated the timing in order to, again, have our choice of seats, ending up in the first row, near center. She used 30%-40% of the material from the previous night, but it was still funny. Mixed in with the new stuff, she also chose new audience members to pick on, including--ta da!--Tom!
Late in the program, she asked what he did for a living and he, with characteristic precision, told her about the little company that makes software to help groups communicate and organize. She asked him if it was what he dreamed of doing as a little boy, to which the answer, of course, was "no". She riffed on that a bit (little boy Tom tucked into bed and telling his mommy that he wants to grow up to make software to help groups communicate and organize...). We could see she was winding down for the night and she left it at that, but it was fun. And the cookies were still good.
She does an amazing job of weaving the different improv elements of the night together (Tom's was mixed with a woman who was a member of a wood-carving group, for example). It's so interesting to watch any performer work close up. Musicians, dancers, whatever. But I consider one of the most difficult jobs in the world to be a stand-up comic. So exposed. And humor style is so specific to each person. To observe a person alone on stage trying to make everyone laugh and glad that they spent the money and took the time to come is a remarkable experience (the folks next to us came from Reno, two hours away). I forget my own name if more than three people at a time are looking at me and right now I wouldn't be able to think of a joke to tell to save my life.
One of the perks of living here is that there are so many opportunities to attend live performances in intimate settings. Some are "names", like Ms. Poundstone, Kris Kristofferson and Smothers Brothers, but others, like Voco and Wailin' Jennies are also amazing and wonderful to watch up close.
And Taj Majal is coming in the fall...
