Culture Alert

"Wake up, SJG, you're missing the show."

This weekend, the SJG learned an important lesson. Too much of a good thing makes me do something in public that I prefer to do off-camera:  Doze off.  To ward off unwelcome snoozing, I try to limit my dosage of culture, lest my brain shut down and I commence inappropriate siesta-taking. Here's what pushed me over my cultural limit:  I saw not one, but two plays this weekend, both matinees. "Brief Encounter" (fab!)  and "Vanya and Sonia and Masha and Spike" (ditto!)  I'm happy to report that I made it through "Brief Encounter" without nodding off on Saturday, a personal victory. Alas, by "Vanya and Sonia" Sunday afternoon, the sandman stalked me for two and a half hours. "Sleep, SJG," he whispered.  "No Sandman, no," I whispered back. "You so tired, SJG. You soooo tired." "Oh, eff off, Sandman," I whispered, fighting to keep my eyes open. Every time the audience laughed, which was every other minute, it was my own personal Culture Alert, reminding me to "wakey wakey, you're missing something great here." Thanks to these frequent outbursts of appreciation, I'm pretty sure I saw or at least heard most of "Vanya and Sonia." So there's that. On a positive note, the brief power napping did pay off later.  I was fully recharged in time for the Oscars, a delightful evening of star-powered selfies, pizza deliveries and only one or three uncomfortable moments, involving Liza with a Z (sit down, Liza, no random hugging of winners), Kim Novak and a be-wigged John Travolta, mispronouncing Idina Menzel's name. Dozing off during the Academy Awards?  Not happening.  Not in front of a room full of relatives who would never let me live down that particular shanda.