I mean, look at him.We went on a date tonight. I agreed to drive since he’s underage and all and when I picked him up he had a lovely yellow sparkly card for me. Yellow. Of course. And inside the card, he thanked me for taking him on a date and told me that he loves me.
Like I said, my life is rich.
He also informed me that he wanted to get me flowers, but unfortunately ran out of time. Understandable. He had a very busy day of slip and slides and play-making, from what I heard over dinner tonight. And really, it’s the thought that counts. Well, at least in this case, anyway.
We went to Ollie’s favorite restaurant and had some amazing Vietnamese food. And then had some ice cream at Friendly’s, which is always perfect, if you ask me. We also saw a baby bunny eating some grass outside and how hilarious this sentence would be if I swopped out eating for smoking.
But hugs, not drugs, baby bunny!
It was an altogether adorable night and I think I might love one-on-one time with people I love more than anything else.
And yesterday I had the pleasure of speaking with a man named Larry on the phone about buying a certain bedroom set that I never do want to see again. We were talking about addresses and what his ETA might be to pick it up when all of the sudden he started talking me through it. What? I know, that’s how I felt too. He was telling me that he had been divorced, too. TOO. You know, me and Larry. So much in common. And that he had gotten through it. And then he told me that he’d pray for me and that’s real nice, it really is, but it’s bad enough getting random Larrys out and about buying your bed, but when they start praying for you too…Well, let’s just say that’s when you’re like, yep. this is my life. take a nice inhalation because this is what it smells like–larry praying for you.
And nope, I am not an ounce above Larry’s prayers.
But seven months ago my life didn’t look quite so much like it was in such obvious need of prayer by total strangers who are buying my bed. Not a complaint, though; just an observation. And I am not crying or anything; I actually think it’s kind of funny.
Oh, and tonight I got home to a quiet and dark house. This might sound creepy, but I kind of like it. Because there was the piano, all begging to be played and it was like, you spend all day with kids and they make you necklaces out of gimp and you wear them! and yet you’re gonna just walk on by…?
So I was like, You’re right, piano. And if you made me a necklace out of gimp, I’d wear it too.
So I sat down and played and then I decided to play a ballad that I wrote for the play my brother wrote that he asked me to turn into a musical by way of adding tunes. And if you are an editor, please, have yourself a field day with that terrible sentence.
And there was one song in particular that strikes a chord with me. Jason emailed me, asking me if I would have a very hard time writing a sad song for Esther to sing; that this song should be something about how Xerxes (which happens to be Drew’s screen name for just about everything, ironically enough) falls very short of his role as husband and how Esther is a woman of worth, despite how she is treated by him.
Do you think you could handle writing something like that? he asked, more than a little tongue in cheek.
So I sat down and wrote it in just a few minutes, it felt. Bam. Here’s a little bit of what’s happened to me, a little bit of my childhood, and a little bit of hope anyway.
It’s called You’ll Know Him. And my niece Charis sure did knock it out of the park when she sang it on stage, by the way.
Between Thursday and Monday of this week, Shane and I have three shows.
That’s the good part.
The sad part is that after that, it’ll be a good five months before we get to play another one. And yes, I said a good five months because I am determined to stay positive right now. Determined to imagine that there could just as well be good things instead of disappointing things up ahead.
And the reason for our little time-off is that Shane is going to be studying in South Africa, which is so very lovely for him, but have you heard? That’s a whole other continent from this one, and so the playing of shows together will be on hold till December.
But tonight was a good one. We played in the East Village in NYC and I suppose it is a good rule of thumb to always bring your own toilet paper to such events. And you’re smart; I am sure you can imagine how I learned this. And you’re right. But moving on.
There’s nothing really like performing, is there? There’s something about giving all of you to a song or a dance or a scene and suddenly your body, mind, and spirit–they’re in this fantastic kind of sync. It’s like finally, all of you is pointed in the same direction and there’s just no room for confusion. Not anymore. I have a dear friend who likens performing to falling in love, and I think I know what she means. Because you might feel down or rather like the little runt of the litter that nobody wants to buy for their seven year old who has finally proven they can handle a puppy, but then you sing; you wonder where singing has been all your life.
And you stand there and the words, they pour out of you like a light you didn’t even know was inside–not when you were sure there was so much darkness lately. And then the melodies. They fly and you can’t help but go with them and in this moment, life is so good.
And you are smiling and giving of yourself and it feels like this could be a clue as to what life is all about anyway.
And you feel like God is smiling and you give him the kind of sideways glance that can only come from the very surprised birthday girl after she has walked into a roomful of HAPPY BIRTHDAYS!!! all around. And once she sees a certain someone tickled pink, she gives them a look as if to say, You planned this, didn’t you? You knew all along…
At which point the person smiles and nods quietly in response.
But right, the show was a blast.
I’m gonna miss all this business come Tuesday, that’s for darn sure.
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