Well, HI. I’ve been working on my blog all day, and just now (at 11:51 pm) I am sitting down to write my blogisode for tomorrow. After spending the day e-mailing and repositioning things and making decisions about how to best navigate the site for all you lovely readers, I’m happy to finally sit down and get back to what I like to do best: torture you with another cliff hanger. By the by, have you noticed the changes? Does it make it easier? And subscribers, how are things going for you? Are you getting posts? Is everyone’s page loading faster? Keep me up to date with how everything is functioning because I am losing years of my life trying to get all this worked out. I will be so glad when it’s all good to go!
I told you on Monday that I would talk a little about what was going on at home while I was in Florida getting dresses altered and singing for 3,000 people (I just made that number up, but I’m guessing it’s close. Symphony houses are giant and we did two performances).
Here’s the thing. Rob works a lot. And it’s not like he just works 9-6, he frequently leaves the house at 8 am and gets home at midnight. And he works both days on the weekend because he has a lot of jobs. Now that I’m writing this, it’s all coming clear to me, the reason I blog is so I have someone to talk to. Not that saying, “No, Beatrix.”, or “Charlotte, at least stop doing your homework long enough to eat dinner” isn’t speaking, but the only substantial conversation I have frequently right here. We have the added bonus that when Rob gets home at midnight he usually kicks of his shoes, grabs a bowl of cereal and reads this blog before I post it so he can catch up on the days events. Then we go to bed. So you see, all communication between my husband and I happens here. Oh, which reminds me, Rob, I was asking about your availability to watch Beatrix next Thursday because I have an audition at 11:30. Can you cover it or do I need a sitter?
Maybe he’ll respond to me in the comments section like my mother does.
Anyhoo, the reason I bring all this up is because, as you remember, Rupert McFee’s (Rob’s–and yes, students of Rob, please feel free to call him that, he LOVES it ) mother Marlene came up to help while I was gone. Remember? Homemade food? Well, she had to leave on Thursday–which she extended to Friday (thank you, Marlene) and Rob’s schedule opened up so he had the kids. All alone. It was a little like, “Hi, my name is Rupert and I’m your father. I’ve been away on a deserted island called ‘work’ and now I’m back for a little while.” Kristen Blodgette, are you paying attention? This list is for you to appreciate.
I’m going to break it down for you, because I got a running text-message-commentary of every item on this list.
1) He delivered and picked up both kids from school and then took them to their favorite playground. But it’s not really a playground, it’s more like a grassy field where the kids run around. I hate going there, I think it’s boring, Rob and the kids love it. They play with sticks and climb trees. Like Native Americans.
2) They came home and he made “Hamburger Soup” (his grandmother’s recipe). Like in a pot. With things that had to be chopped.
3) They made pumpkin chocolate chip cookies. This was not prepackaged dough. They did not slice and bake. They did not heat up chips ahoy in the microwave and call it “baking”. They all went in the kitchen and worked together with flour and cans of pumpkin.
4) They carved the actual pumpkin and put a candle in it and turned out the lights and made spooky noises.
5) They roasted the pumpkin seeds–and not just in a pan, but from a recipe he found online where you soak it first in something or other (he told me, I forget) and then roast it….maybe in the oven? I was too intimidated to listen.
6) They bathed and put Beatrix to bed and then Rob and Charlotte watched the “Miss Representation” documentary on OWN about exploiting girls in the media.
1) They all got up, loaded in the car and drove to 66th street for an 11 am high school fair. Where they (including Beatrix) went to each booth collecting application information. (For those of you who do not live in New York City, this is how it is done, and not just because we are being fussy. There is no such thing as a “zoned” high school. All students must apply. And take tests. And sweat it out and wait. And yes, it is public school. And these fairs are a jam packed nightmare.)
2) After the fair, they ate a pre-packed (from home) picnic lunch at Lincoln Center.
3) They drove around and did an extra credit project for Charlotte’s humanities class. This was a photo documentary of all the sites from the book The Catcher In the Rye. We do not have a DVD player in our car (we did, but Beatrix kicked it to death), so this means they listened to Elton John and Kiki Dee sing, “Don’t Go Breakin’ My Heart” from the Gnomeo and Juliet soundtrack exactly 5,352 times to keep Beatrix occupied. This also means that they had to take turns singing the “girl” and the “boy” as the small three-year-old barked out orders from her barcalounger type car seat.
4) They went to the Central Park Zoo. This involved finding a parking spot near the zoo on a Saturday. Not easy.
5) They went to the Duck Pond and then the Carousel in Central Park.
6) They drove home and Rob made hamburgers and sweet potato fries and they finished the soup.
7) Rob gave Beatrix a bath and put her to bed while Charlotte took a practice standardized High School test, which is 2 1/2 hours long.
8) They watched more of the documentary, “Miss Representation”.
Sunday morning: I was up at 5:30am, on a flight at 8am and home by 10:30am, where we all became slugs again.
Do I even need to comment on that list? Couldn’t you die? I almost didn’t come home. When the text massages started coming in, I had to call my gay husband Jacob and tell him, “Rob’s trying to make up for lost time. He’s over achieving!” I would forward every text message to Jacob as they kept rolling in from Rob with pictures–Lincoln Center picnic. Central Park Zoo. Home made soup and cookies. And Jacob just kept texting back, “asshole.” It made me howl with laughter. That’s what good friends do, they allow you to make fun of your over achieving husband. Good times.
The kids had a blast, I love Rupert McFee, and he might still be in work-a-holic mode? Ya think? He’s fun to tease.
Oh my lordy lou, we’re 1,170 words in and I haven’t even gotten us back to college. Well, unless you consider the above to be a snap shot of Pace University Professor Rupert McFee, super Dad.
How about if I give you a little blogisode now, and then I will give you some more tomorrow on what is normally our Daily Dose day. Eh, I’m not in love with the daily Dose. We’ll see if it makes the cut.
So we left off with me writing my Waiting For Lefty paper, remember? It was a lot like how I am writing this blogisode; in the middle of the night, the night before it was due. I spread out all over our bed–papers, note cards, the highlighted book, articles about the depression and unionization (LIKE: Robert Wager, Frances Perkins and the quickly struck down Wagner Act. Just doing a little name dropping to up my fancy-factor. I hope it’s right or I’ll look like an idiot.) I kept writing and writing. I had to remember not to use the word “I”. (Check out this blog and you’ll see, that’s hard or me). I had to use quotes. I was OVER IT. Finally, I just broke away from her guide sheet and started writing my own things about the play. I mean, it was a PLAY. I know about plays. I wrote about why the theatrical conventions that were used were so effective. I knew it was either total C-R-A-P and way off base, or she’s like it. I was pretty sure no one else was going to talk about breaking the fourth wall and direct address. I wrote about a play, not about a history.
But….I wasn’t writing it for a drama class. I was writing for a history class.
I remember in the middle of writing it, I updated my status on Facebook and wrote something like, “As I sit here and
try to crank out this paper under the gun, I understand in an acute way why college students go to keg parties.” I think every student of Rob and Sister Wife Amy’s “liked” it. I was really making friends at college! Beer jokes! Facebook “likes”! Oh, my left eye for a frat part and a beer bong.
I turned the paper in and a couple of days later, my phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number, but it was a 212 exchange, so I was certain (as I always am when it is a 212 number) that it was Broadway calling with a job.
A familiar voice spoke to me. “Sharon. It’s Dr. Blumberg. I wanted to speak to you about your Waiting For Lefty paper.”
To read the next blogisode in this series, go here.