Got a Fever of 103

The right music sets the tone for the meal.

So, after a lovely walk over to Olio in the early evening air, it was a distinct pleasure to walk in and hear some well-chosen '80s music blaring.

And by blaring, I mean playing at a volume that allowed talk but made you wish you could dance.

Looking at the specials board while listening to When in Rome, I was thrilled when it was followed by the Smiths, Psychedelic Furs and Talk Talk.

It's my life, don't you forget
It's my life, it never ends

Let's just say that  soon I was inquiring of our server the source of the music.

Pandora set to New Order. Well, that explains everything except the 20-something who had clearly chosen this music for his evening's work.

It was hard to resist the evening's specials: an Italian lentil soup (executed perfectly according to the nearest Italian) and a sandwich of duck liver pate, roasted pork loin, fig jam and Dijon mustard on a crusty baguette.

My, my, the earthiness of that pate with the sweet figs was sublime.

Paired with a bottle of Planeta La Segreta red blend, this was a meal worthy of a balmy December evening.

Double chocolate cake with chocolate ganache finished everything off beautifully as Jesus and Mary Chain poured from the speakers.

Listen to the girl
As she takes on half the world
Moving up and so alive

Well done, Olio.

From there it was an easy walk to Firehouse Theater for TheaterLab's "Life of Hannah," written by a local playwright, Michael Musatow, and rehearsed for a mere two and a half weeks.

Waiting for the play to begin, Foreigner was the music of choice and it led right into the play.

I'm hot-blooded, check it and see.

Or, better yet, don't and take my word for it.

The play about family coming to visit a young couple for Thanksgiving had the expected nervousness of the young wife while her husband placated her about his crazy family.

When he goes out for cranberries (the traditional jelled variety that comes from a can), she goes on cleaning, only to hit her head.

The bump causes her mind to imagine the husband's family arriving to hilarious results.

Funniest was Stephen Ryan as Grandpa, an old man planted in a chair whose primary activity was tapping one hand and spouting non sequiters.

If I hadn't already seen Ryan playing very different and younger roles, I'd have believed he really was as old as Grandpa.

But Grandpa wasn't the only funny one.

Daughter Clarice had changed her name to Hydrangea and adopted a hippie-dippie attitude toward life.

There was the New Jersey-accented Georgia, who espoused a theory of "Men and gambling, they're just the same."

It was your classic dysfunctional family, full of under-achievers, damaged souls and an overbearing mother.

The play was short, less than 45 minutes, but by the end, Hannah had seen enough dysfunction to resolve to change her own ways.

She even called her terrible mother to wish her a happy holiday.

And really, any woman who claims to clean to relax needs better relaxing options.

She was even going to have a drink with the turkey feast, something the very controlled Hannah didn't usually do.

Her husband was so proud.

That or he knew things would go much better if she was properly lubricated to deal with his crazy relatives once they really arrived and not just in Hannah's mind.

So glad that's Hannah's life and not mine.

And fortunately, it never ends.