Lucia Frangione

The wonderful thing about living at sea level is, the bike ride home is all downhill. If anyone was out tonight, you know it was balmy lilac and moon beams. Three jocular college boys right directly in front of me – pedal in shorts and retro Ts. At Cambie Street their conversation hits me as we all slow down for a red light. “She was wearing a white vintage wedding dress, dude, right in the middle of the street.” “How did you know it was vintage?” “Because…it had…like…ruffles. I’m tellin’ you it was freakin’ eerie. EERIE. She just stood there,…

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Every wall in my house is splattered with blood right now. Happy Mother’s Day. After an absolutely wonderful but exhausting week of rehearsals I come home to see the cat has for once not peed on my bed. I am so happy to see her sitting there, docile and dry on my quilt that I pick her up in my arms, kiss her on the head, forgive all, promise treats and walk through my door, whipping it shut to make sure she doesn’t change her mind. One has to whip the bedroom door shut because it sticks. Unfortunately and freakishly,…

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*Anne of Green Gables spoiler alert. Last night Nora and I end our bedtime chapter of Anne of Green Gables and I start to worry. A mention of Matthew’s health, a possible bank collapse and then a wonderful eulogistic conversation between Matthew and Anne…? My writer’s brain knows what is likely coming next in the plot. Nora listens, happily oblivious, kicking her legs and sipping her tea. Before I can close the book fast enough she catches a few words from the next chapter heading and asks, alarmed, “Mommy, does the next chapter say “death?!”” “Oh maybe, time to brush…

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Today in the rehearsals for my play – my character beat the hell out of Love. Literally. I got to kick furniture, pound walls, push, punch, smash, slap and pummel. Today my character also threw her lover down to the ground, ripped his shirt off and proceeded to do the “backwards cowgirl” (as I was informed by my fight choreographer – I didn’t know it had a name). Today my character did many things I don’t exactly do on a regular basis. It was embarrassing. It was uncomfortable. It was so not my cool calm lady-like self. It was –…

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I whip into the Pacific Theatre parking lot and see the infamous adorable baby blue bike. My colleague had mentioned this bike. She was gazing at it admiringly while backing up her beautiful VW…right into a post. Oh to be cursed with a passion for aesthetic. Life can get very distracting…and expensive. While thinking this and admiring the bike, I nearly plow into the post myself. I pat my little Mini the Blue lovingly on the boot with a sigh of relief at the close call. I fly under the poster above my head and open the big heavy front…

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Tonight I had our creative team over for dinner, and Ron Reed, the AD of Pacific Theatre. I served a five course Italian feast. (eggplant cannelloni a surprise hit, the panna cotta rubbery but edible) I wanted to introduce them to some of the foods I mention in Espresso. It was a wonderful evening. And one of my favourite things about this sort of gang is the generosity. We spoke of other friends we loved and admired and reminisced. In particular tonight we spoke of Evangela Kepinsky, JP Allen and John Voth. I have many fantastic stories about them all,…

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Ten years ago three men proposed to me. One was a young slender man who said God told him he was to marry me and have six kids. He followed me to my lunch with my mother and gave me a dozen red roses and a pack of espresso and laid it at my feet. He followed me home. He slipped letters under my door. He trembled when he spoke to me. I had to gently tell him to please stop following me to my door step or I might have to call the police. The second proposal was a…

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Twelve hours after getting off the plane from Pisa-Paris-Montreal-Ottawa-Vancouver I sit around the table and read my play, Espresso, with the new creative team. I still have orange blossom and mimosa in my nostrils and sweet wined Italian vowels in my mouth. I forgot how devastating the play is. I forgot how much it makes me laugh. I forgot how absolutely sensual it is. And I am overwhelmed that I have to enter into this world again. It’s like getting pregnant, forgetting what labour feels like, until the first contraction, then remembering – WHAT DID I GET MYSELF INTO?! Once…

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A list for Italy includes “camera”. I fish mine out from the bottom of my “tech beyond my understanding” drawer. Poor old man Canon. His face is popping off, his memory is jarred, his eye is stuck out, permanently unfocused. It looks painful. Like a bad day with Levitra. I bring him to Camtex on 5th and place him in the loving hands of a man from the Ukraine who knows what it feels like to be discarded when no longer useful. I say to him, “I am so sorry about what they are doing to your country.” Whatever profit…

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Once in a while I have the privilege of participating in a donor appreciation night for Pacific theatre. Last night we gathered at the Jones’ lovely home with its delicious red walls and honeyed floors, Richard pouring excellent wine and Maureen handing out all sorts of elegant nibbles. It’s wonderful to meet the other side of the family. Out of Pacific Theatre’s thirty years of existence, I have been around for twenty four. During that time I have grown to truly love so many patrons and staff and I’ve worked with at least three generations of artists. Maybe I would…

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