Archive for August, 2009

Who would’ve thunk, when I was stuck in the middle of the backseat of the Lemon Woody station wagon (I had – have – the shortest legs) as my family careened across no-man’s-land toward Idaho or went up and down the roller coaster hills on 104th on the way to church, that those two mostly-annoying sisters on either side of me would produce such delectable children?

Ty, Izzy, Lou and Sammy

Ty, Izzy, Lou and Sam

I have three nieces and a nephew, and each one of them is a unique delight. They’re the only people who actually like my singing, and I get excited each time I get to see them.

Lindsey – the oldest – is tall and pretty, athletic and shy. I find myself doing the goofiest things to coax a smile out of her, and when it happens, it makes me a little giddy.

Tyler is Lindsey’s younger brother. He’s easy to be around and game for almost anything. He’s a great audience – quick to laugh – and my favorite person to play cards with.

Isabella is Erin’s oldest, blondy-blonde, smart and self-confident. She loves to perform, and expresses herself in big ways. She wore her Alice in Wonderland costume for a year straight.

Samantha is the youngest – three and a half. She’s got huge blue eyes and dimples, and enough energy to power a small town. She’s really chatty, really headstrong, and really cute.

wickedErin and Izzy are going to see “Wicked” next week, and I can’t WAIT to hear all about it. It’s Izz’s first musical, and I expect that she’ll be totally entranced. I was hooked from the get-go. I was eight (or nine or ten) when my parents took us to see “Annie” at the Fifth Avenue Theatre. Were I a different kid, I’d be able to tell you about the cute dress I was wearing or the Shirley Temple I drank in the lobby or the experience of being surrounded by giant buildings in the “big city.” I don’t remember any such things, or much at all. Only the all-encompassing feeling of wonder and the certainty that I WANTED TO DO THAT SOMEDAY as I watched the sets changing after the chorus sang “We’d Like to Thank You, Herbert Hoover.” In the words of the WWotW, “What a world, what a world.”

I hope hope hope that Izzy, many years from now, will also re-experience the wonder each time she thinks about seeing “Wicked” as a six year old. I’m thinking I need to get the soundtrack for both of us, so that the next time we’re together we can sing.

A moment of silence during our Fourth of July "concert" of patriotic songs.

A moment of silence during our Fourth of July "concert" of patriotic songs.


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I saw March today, and she asked me how my writing is coming, and I told a little white lie. Which is silly. Lying to one’s therapist, that is. But saying, “Oh yes! I’ve written once in all these months that we’ve talked about it!” seemed pa-the-tic. So I said that I’d started, and was doing just a little.

See, it was a white lie.

But actually, talking with March made me realize what some of the barriers have been to stop me from diving right in. Two things: first, I get stuck on wanting to know where my writing is going to end up before I’ve even started. It’s my obsessive need to plan. Just enjoy the freakin’ journey, Rona! You may end up somewhere more lovely than you could have imagined.

Second, there are so many thoughts swirling in my head – where does one begin? If I could have one thing that doesn’t really exist, it would be Dumbledore’s pensieve (although for it to be useful, I suppose I’d need two things that don’t exist: a pensieve and a wand). I’d love to remove the excess thoughts from my brain and sort through them at my leisure. To organize a lot of disparate fragments into a cohesive argument… belief… theology….

Of course, that’s what writing is, no? Extracting ideas from our minds, and placing them on the page (screen) so that we can make sense of them? That is, if we’d let ourselves start with the finish in the fog around the bend. Who knows what magical discoveries we might make?

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At a loss for words…

…which is a little ironic, since I just decided to start a blog. I have no current plans to tell anyone of its existence – just set down a few thoughts on (virtual) paper. A little exercise. My writing muscles are as devoid of tone as my triceps (eegads).

I’m certainly a blog reader. There are four I read with relish: two by friends, one for fun, and one on philanthropy. There’s one that’s now gone that I miss. And there are a few others I visit from time to time. But by and large I’m an Internet lurker. A facebook voyeur, rather than an exhibitionist. An infrequent tweeter (and that’s in my “official” capacity, at that). Someone who faithfully watches “The Daily Show” the day after, then wonders (somewhat scornfully, I admit) who exactly has the time or the interest to comment – nay, even chat – about Jon’s latest guest.

So why, if I’m evidently averse to wading into the WWWeb, am I writing this in that very medium? Why not MS Word, or the mostly empty notebook that sits in my nightstand? Because I may just change my mind, and I like to be prepared [gasps of shock from all who know me well].

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