As I mentioned recently, we've done a little redecorating to make room for the Christmas tree. Laurie had some book shelf moving ideas which I was not sure about at first but which turned out to make the room look better than ever. This happens a lot. Laurie is very good at making places look lovely.
When I proposed to Laurie, I told her three things. One was that she could do anything she wanted with the house. I had no idea at the time how much that meant to her given her past living space experiences. I daresay I probably had no idea what I was saying at all. I was pretty nervous at the time. But I've mainly stuck by that and it's always turned out to be a very good thing. Laurie is a fantastic decorator.
Ah, but some of you noticed I said, "mainly." There is a concession she has made, or maybe a compromise is more like it.
When SOC did The Merry Wives of Windsor there was a sight gag, which I don't remember if it even made it into the show. But there's the scene where Mistress Ford convinces Falstaff to hide in the laundry and then he gets dumped into the river. The sight gag was a giant pair of bloomers which, if memory serves, Ford finds, hold up for the audience to see with a shriek and the discovery furthers his fears of being cuckolded. Or something like that. Anyway, it got a laugh as underpant jokes usually do.
The costumer actually made the giant underpants (prop giant underpants. I don't think they're actually wearable by anyone) and a few years later, as costume shops sometimes do (keep an eye out with costumers in your area. It is one of the greatest things in life when this happens), the costumer department held a sale to make room in their storehouse.
If memory serves it was $10 for as much as you could shove in a black trash bag and guess who found the giant underpants.
They served as curtains when I lived in Long Beach. In fact, I think I had not lived in a space without hanging the giant underpants until Laurie and got married. Anyone who visited without fail had a laugh when they came in and saw the giant underpants hanging on the wall. When I would explain their origin, the usual response was along the lines of "Oh, that Paul! Always so wacky and nerdy."
There was the time, early on in our marriage, of conversation over items I owned that I maybe didn't really need to continue owning. I accepted almost every suggestion Laurie made to downsize my possessions except for my tie-dye shirts and Falstaff's bloomers. I had a rare moment of putting my foot down. I was not getting rid of the giant prop underpants. A compromise was struck and they are in a sack in the garage. Well, until just now when I dragged them out to take a photograph.
So there's the story. It's not a great one, but I thought it at least marginally of interest, enough for me to remark on it. There's a picture of them. As you can see, they are in fact giant. So much so that The Riverside Shakespeare had to be employed to hold them up. And, appropriately enough, the globe.
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