It’s a Miracle!

Doctor Miracle, that is – an opera. An opera that I went to see, by myself because The Boy said he’d rather die than watch an opera.

Actually, he said many things – some hysterically funny – but none that are suitable for public consumption via this blog. He’s a very naughty Boy.

I’d toyed with the idea of going to see a live broadcast of The Met at a local movie theater (two birds with one stone – see an opera, go to the movies by myself). Then I saw that the Dallas Opera was offering a family-friendly short opera to introduce people to the medium. For $5, I could see a 45-minute production, sung in English, at the new Winspear Opera House.

{When The Boy saw the $5 charge come through our bank account, he merely said, Well, I certainly wouldn’t pay more than $5 to see an opera. That’s why he wasn’t invited to go with me.}

Last weekend, I headed to the AT&T Performing Arts Center. Being able to enjoy a performance of any sort in the Winspear Opera House was worth the $5 – worth far more than that, actually.

The opera was easy to follow and quite amusing. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but opera is basically musical theater with more emphasis on vibrato and less emphasis on acting than a show on Broadway.

Amusing or not, I have to say that I prefer every-man musical theater. Give me Les Miserable over La Traviata, Oliver! over Don Giovanni.

But I did come home and warn The Boy that I’d likely be singing a line from Doctor Miracle on brunch mornings: Make! Way! For the OME-LET!

He just looked at me and said I hope we don’t eat omelets very often.

That’s not a very loving thing to say, is it?!?