Cat on a Hot Tin Roof

You know how some music just sounds better, or some movies are better viewed, in summertime?  How about works of literature that just scream summer!?  I'm not talking about trashy mindless books you pick up on the way to the beach, the ones you don't care if they get lost or get ruined by sand and saltwater and smears of sunscreen.  I mean literature that makes you sweat just reading it, books that have waves of heat coming off of them.

For me, there's no better summer literature than Tennessee Williams.  In every scene of plays like A Streetcar Named Desire, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, and Suddenly Last Summer, you can feel the thick southern summer air.  These works are chockful of languid decay, steamy frustration, dirty secrets, and complicated people going crazy in the heat.  Everything is extreme and exhausting--kinda like summer itself.

What could be more ideal, then, than a production of a Williams classic on a hot June night?  Georgia Shakespeare's current run of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof does not disappoint.  From the first look at the set, there was no mistaking what play we were about to see--the big bed, Brick's crutch propped against the wall, the liquor cabinet, and the closet door left open but with no view to its contents.  Perfect.

Also perfect: picnicking before the show.

I look slightly evil here.  Make of that what you will.  Notice my new summer 'do.  My hair hasn't been this short since 1993-ish.  I feel very light and cool.  And sassy, of course!

(French Girl Knitters, take note: yes, that's Paloma I'm wearing, sans ribbon.  Made for the Sheepish knitalong, out of Louisa Harding Merletto.  Ooooo la la!)