shalmestere and I had some sort of mid-day performing gig upstate in the Hudson Valley, then drove back in a hurry, arriving just in time to be seated in the auditorium for some other show. Except, as we realized at the last minute, I was supposed to be performing a brief historical-dance bit in this one too -- fortunately not until the second act. So at the intermission, shalmestere drove home to get something I would need, while I went backstage and found Mrs. Odorizzi [my high school drama teacher, who was directing this thing] to make sure she knew I was there, and make sure the music for my performance was ready. Mrs. O. looked distracted, but said "Talk to Tori about the music. And where's your shirt? I must be going now," and wandered outside to talk to somebody else. My shirt? Oh, right: I'm still wearing a bathrobe, which really isn't right for this performance. So I ran outside to find shalmestere and ask her to pick up a shirt along with whatever else she was retrieving from home. I saw her heading for the car, but couldn't catch up with her. I needed to get her the message, so I started writing it in large letters on one cuff of my pants with tailor's chalk [yes, at least I was wearing pants], then realized that I needed the pants, too, for the performance, and having "GET MY SHIRT" written around the cuff might not add to my performance, so I stopped and tried to brush off the tailor's chalk. Besides, I had a cell phone, which on second thought seemed like a much better way to send shalmestere a time-critical message.