Vive la Jeanne, la jolie, jolie Jeanne...

Back from rehearsal- spent the last half hour going over spoken dialogue from The Lark, wherein I am once again the maid of Orleans.

It's pretty creepy how inside of the head of this girl I am. It's like this instant segue into Joan-voice, which is about half an octave deeper than my own, and with enunciation so precise that one could imagine that the words were being carved into stone.

The house is a bit of a challenge- Baker Chapel is notorious for its echo. I have to speak at half the speed I would speak even on a theater stage. I feel like I'm in slow-mo.

Anyway, Mike's on his way up. I need to shower. Spring Fling ahoy... and it's drizzling.