I've got the itch.

(Sister. Self. Cousin Shani. All looking stellar.)

It's happened. Again.

I have this crazy addiction that I'm able to stave off by avoiding. But somewhere between episodes of "Smash" and tickets to "Wicked" on Saturday, Broadway fever is in full swing.

Darn you, musical theatre.

We had this worn out VHS tape growing up that I watched obsessively whenever given permission. Forget the Mickey Mouse Club (and cable TV for that matter), I would have chosen The Wizard of Oz, Oklahoma, and The Music Man any day.

My dad took me to see Cathy Rigby in Peter Pan when I was little and the deal was sealed. I knew that I had to get on stage. So in kindergarten I auditioned for our school's talent show. Ordinarily the spots were reserved for 1st through 8th graders, but that wasn't about to stop me. The night of the show I wore my poofy dress and pranced to the front of the Sanctuary. Who doesn't love a child belting "I've got the Joy, Joy, Joy" without any accompaniment?

I remember walking around my house in black tights, a Dallas Cowboy Cheerleader jacket, and my mom's wedge heels, Barbie shoe in hand. I needed something to represent a cigarette at the start of "You're the One that I Want," By second grade I knew all of the parts Sandy sang in Grease even if I (thankfully) didn't understand them.

In 4th grade I participated in local children's theatre. It was a great experience even if the video is painful to watch. No one can ever fault me for not having enough volume. (Think Catherine O'Hara in Waiting for Guffman)

You can, however, fault me for my lack of dance ability, but I figure as long as I smile the rest will work itself out.

Anyways, it's been almost 3 years since the last show and I've got the itch. My husband keeps coming home and startling me because I'm singing show tunes in my own little world. I think it's time to audition again. We'll see what happens... Wish me... broken legs?