Happy Wednesday and welcome back to our first ever cliff hanging Daily Dose. I swear, I’ll get us back to Las Vegas soon. What is the deal with me and cliff hangers? I don’t do it in normal conversation. I don’t just suddenly stop mid story and say, Meet me here tomorrow and I will finish telling you what happens. But you get me in a WordPress writing template and the first thing I do is leave you all hanging. Yesterday’s Daily Dose had cliffhangers within cliffhangers. Things were totally out of control.
It was also shockingly popular, so thank you for that.
If you didn’t read it, go here before reading the next part.
Let’s pick up where we left off in yesterday’s Daily Dose. I will recap.
Really, yesterday’s post was all about how I park for free in Manhattan while out foxing the foxes** (**”The foxes in this metaphor are New York City parking cops, who are not literally foxes, nor are they “foxy” in the Happy Days1970’s kitsch reference kind of way). Are you all still with me? Don’t leave me just because I jumped the shark by making a reference to Happy Days. (That was for Rob. He’ll like the double meaning). But really, the Daily Dose was about doing as much as possible in New York City and Westchester County while dragging my in-laws around (they deserve a medal) and while learning Yiddish. Right? Right.
We left off with Charlotte and I delivering Marlene and Dom (Rob’s parents) to see ANYTHING GOES and Charlotte and I running north through Times Square on a Saturday night to make it to our 8pm curtain at GODSPELL. The time is the stroke of 8:00pm, and Charlotte and I ran into the (now empty) lobby to pick up our tickets. Our tickets, I was told, did not exist. Nor did the guy seem to believe that I was–in fact–a TONY voter or that I had ever ordered tickets. You want proof, cranky box office guy? I have proof. I pulled up the confirmation email on my cell phone…..which took me forever to find…..but I finally found it and showed it to him with an, AHA! kind of relish. Proof. Take THAT. He squints at it through the plexiglass, and then he said into his crackly bank teller microphone, “The tickets you reserved are for February 26th, Ma’am.” His voice was too celebratory. He was SO DELIGHTED to be right.
Crap shit damn.
By this point the show had started and there really wasn’t anything to do, so, we left. I have to tell you that in my history of being a TONY voter I’ve never messed up tickets like that, and I was pretty embarrassed, but in my defense, GODSPELL uses a different form than the standard format, so I just hit the wrong date. And then I didn’t catch it in the confirmation email. Which I explained to Charlotte. But Charlotte’s little crestfallen face told me I’d screwed it up, and no excuse in the book mattered because she wasn’t inside singing along to “Day By Day”. Ugh. That’s the worst–disappointing your excited kid.
So what is the next best thing?
Why, shopping in all the stores in Times Square, of course. Let me explain, for those of you who haven’t been to Times
Square in a long time, it is no longer filled with pawn shops and porn shops, it more closely resembles The Mall Of America. This is something a lot of my Broadway cronies and I complain about a lot, but on Saturday night I could not have been more thrilled to walk into a multi level American Eagle and a multi level Forever 21. There were shopping bags and a smile on the 13-year-old’s face, and we picked Rob up from his rehearsal on 86th street and then drove down and picked up Dom and Marlene from right in front of the theater. Just like they were the stars of the show and we were the car service. It was great.
We all went home and pretty much passed out.
Oh wait, that’s a total lie.
On Saturday night, after the test and the reception and the shows and the shopping, Marlene and Dom made the grand announcement that they were talking Charlotte and her cousin Wesley to–
–wait for it–
–Italy for two weeks this summer. Who’s the luckiest kid in the world? She is. New clothes AND Italy. Who needs stupid old GODSPELL? They are going to Venice and Florence and Rome and Pisa and off the beaten path to find some relatives of Dom’s in the village of Torello del Sannio in the mountainous area of Abruzzi. I suspect, they might eat a lot of gelato and pizza. We celebrated and they looked up pictures on the Internet and Charlotte hyperventilated (she’s good at reactions, that kid), and eventually we all went to bed.
Which brings us to:
The beautiful thing about Sunday was that Rob was off work until 5pm. This was as close as he was going to get to a day off this week, and we were thrilled that he was going to get to spend some quality time with his parents.
And by spending quality time with his parents, let me explain.
As I said yesterday, Monday was Beatrix’s 4th birthday, and we had a birthday party planned for her, which was the focal point of Marlene and Dom’s visit–well–not the focal point maybe, but it was the bait for luring them up here for a relaxing weekend with family. You know, because the first adjective that pops into most people’s mind when asked to describe New York city is “relaxing”. Anyhoo, I decided to have Beazer’s birthday party on Monday evening–her actual birthday–rather than during the weekend–for several reasons.
1) Birthday parties that aren’t on your actual birthday are stinky.
2) Mondays are a dark night for theater….and even though I am not in a show AND that rule has started to die off as producers change days off to days like Wednesday….I will forever think of Monday as WOOHOO! The weekend! So of course we have a party on a Monday. Duh.
3) In a bizarre turn of luck Rob was off from both of the shows he is rehearsing and only had to teach from 9-3:30. So he would be home for the party. And it’s always nice when Daddy is in attendance.
So you might be wondering what all of this has to do with Rob’s sort of day off on Sunday (although any of you readers who are mothers already know).
I greeted him Sunday morning with a cup of coffee and not one, but TWO lists on legal sized paper, of things that needed to be done.
He was a really good sport about it.
At least to my face.
The list included a wide range of duties from “laundry” (6 loads including 2 bathroom rugs)
all the way to “buy heavy duty paper plates.”
You may be wondering what was on my list.
I had to learn that damn Yiddish.
And also do other things, but it was the TV Yiddish that was haunting me.
The other things on my list were
“Fight parking ticket” (Still not done, but just WAIT, NYC cops. I have PROOF that I paid for my parking.)
“See RELATIVELY SPEAKING at 3pm” (A play on Broadway that was closing that day.)
“Meet Joan for lunch” (Not a social call, she ‘s my acting teacher and going to work on my audition as we ate lunch and then went to see the play.)
Okay, I know, you think my list is way more fun than Rob’s, right? It was. BUT, please refer back to Friday and Saturday and remember that I’d been mother and daughter-in-law on duty and it was Rob’s turn. And I wasn’t eating bon-bons, I was eating split pea soup at the Cafe Edison and saying lines in Yiddish! Oy Vey!
After the play, I come out to a barrage of text messages from Rob about where Charlotte was (at Church in training for her Confirmation Sacrament), what time I had to pick her up, and where the car was parked–50th and 8th–which is a great parking spot, right by the church and incredibly convenient unless you were planning to write your blog on the long subway ride home. Right? Right. So, if you were mad that there wasn’t a blog post on Monday you can yell at Rob who was being Jesus by parking the car outside of church for my commuting convenience. (Who says alliteration is overused?)
So, on my way to church to get Charlotte, I call my sister, because I have fifty things I need her to help me solve, and I start with this.
“Charlotte’s Confirmation sponsor just dropped out and I don’t know any other Catholics. What should I do?”
My sister (a lawyer) needs to know facts.
“Will they check to see how Catholic someone is? Do they need documentation from a parish?”
I tell her I will find out, and to our great surprise, they don’t need anything. Just your good old, run of the mill Catholic in good working order and (the main requirement) present at the ceremony. My sister tells me to put Charlotte on the phone, and she proceeds to tell her she’ll come up from Cincinnati to sponsor her. Now THAT’S a good aunt. I told my sister it might be fun because the rumor is it is being presided over by the then newly minted Cardinal Timothy Dolan, so it’s a Confirmation ceremony and a celebrity sighting all in one. (If you don’t know what that is, don’t worry, I don’t either but people seem really impressed. I think he is really high up in the Catholic Church and maybe he votes for Pope? Or runs for Pope? Or prays for the Pope? Or plays on the Vatican football team? I’ll get back to you with details after my sister tells me.)
The rest of the night was your basic Sunday night, prepping for a party, wrapping presents for the big birthday, general bru-ha-ha.
We went to bed and then it started.
Cough, cough, cough, cough.
“Mommy. I’m sick.”
Oh no. No, no, no, no, no. Birthday girls can’t get sick on the day they have two parties and Mommy has a major TV audition in Yiddish.
Please Cardinal (Quarterback) Dolan, ask Jesus to punt away the illness!
Okay, I’m at 1,765 words and I still have one more day to go, so please join me AGAIN tomorrow as this story which is already too long, becomes even longer.
This is ridiculous.
(To read the continuation of this story, go here)
And hey–if you could all take a second and send healing thoughts and prayers to my buddy and cheetah running friend Traci Lyn Thomas (TLT), star of Broadway West, who is undergoing major spine surgery today.