performance day

The schedule is set: the printout sits on the little table
beside the bedroom door. Twelve items, from “2:00 p.m.
Set-up”, to “10:00 p.m. Time to pop the cork…”—
the well oiled machine is ready to roll. Except my tongue,
which feels as if someone is squeezing one side with pliers.
A quick sound check before breakfast assures me that
my “L” and “S” sound a bit Spanish, perhaps Castilian, cultivated
on the south side of a sunny valley near Portugal. The result
is that Tiny Tim’s “God bless us, everyone!” sounds more like
“God byeth uth, everyone!” It will sound preciously cute,
and there isn’t anything I can do about it except lose the
accent, or pretend that lisping is sexy. Ya gotta laff.