Tosca

Brilliant! The pace of Puccini's opera, Tosca, was at first, like reading Tolstoy. One must slow down and let the characters and story unfold, trusting the brilliance of the author, and finding that same rhythm within your own heart. At first difficult, but then the subtle nuances become observable and much more meaningful.

So it was with beautiful Floria Tosca, played by the best soprano voice I've heard in Phoenix in some time, Lisa Daltirus, not to mention her stage presence totally captivating the audience. My eyes rarely left her to take in the set or other actors when she was on stage. Her aria in Act II brought me to tears and that has only happened, for me, once before, at the end of Madame Butterfly.

It was a gorgeous evening in Phoenix, no sweaters or wraps needed. Bare arms abounded; honey, beautiful alabaster ones, ebony and caramel, smooth or toned. Sweetie and I critiqued the women's dresses like it was the Oscars.

I, unfortunately had to brave it out in black tennis shoes under a floor length, lovely pleated, black skirt. In my gusto to greet the spring last week I painted a large wall in a bedroom -- I was doing fine until I decided to move a large dresser for a second wall. I thought I was fine till I awoke Saturday morning. Oh heaven's! very painful. Standing was fine, sitting was sort of okay, moving from sitting to standing was not either. It is a long drive to Phoenix and there was two intermissions...enough said...you get the picture. Thus the tenny's under the dress rather than the heals. How self conscious one becomes of one's feet when they are not shod appropriately for such and event. I scaned the crowd looking for faces that were looking down at my feet, while I scrutinized every pair of sandaled, heeled, spiked, gorgeous and ugly footwear made for womankind. A lot of black -- I loved the risk takers, in red and lavendar. However the tragedy and beauty of Tosca (photos), full of twists, political intrigue, jealousy, and above all eternal love took my mind from everything.