Hi. If there is an award for blogger missing-in-action, I would win it. My apologies. Before we move on with anything else, let me catch you up with what has been going on. First I am going to post all of the posts I started but never published because I didn’t finish them.
I think I started this post 10 days ago.
It’s me and I am writing from the A train just like old times. Hello to the 6 of you who still care about finishing Broadway West. I apologize for the fits and starts that have plagued this story line, but we’re back and going to the end.
Rob has been out of town doing a summer camp program called Camp Broadway and has–ironically–been in Las Vegas. What happens in Vegas doesn’t stay in Vegas, so as a warm up to the re-start of Broadway West, please allow me to tell a quick story he told me last night.
Camp Broadway is a program designed (I think) to teach musical theater to kids nationwide. They have programs in New York for visiting kids (I think) and they also travel around the country (I know this is true, Rob is out on the road
with them). From what I’ve seen, they learn and perform songs from musicals, it’s maybe a week long, and at the end they perform all this lovely material for their adoring parents. The age of the kids seems to be middle school. Sounds fun, right? I would have died to do something like this, especially since it is largely taught by Broadway types (example–Rob Meffe) and they give you professional training and tidbits towards future stardom. I was the kid who fell in love with the priest at Fort Scott (a Catholic camp) at the age of 14 (to clarify: the priest was extremely ethical with a young and adoring me–example–when I would show up at the sacristy to “talk to him” about all of my crushing life problems, seeking “God’s advice” but really just wanting moments alone with the hotty young priest, he would “soothe my soul” by making me sweep out the church. Which I happily did. Imagine me at musical theater camp with cute Rob Meffe as my mentor. It would have been a lot of sweeping the stage.)
But not all kids are as enamored with their elders as I was.
According to Rob, a couple of days ago he announced that the next day they would work on their “chest voice”*** for a cockney song from My Fair Lady. ***Chest voice is your lower voice. Head voice is your higher voice. Judy Garland = chest voice. Julie Andrews = head voice. Got it?
Anyhoo, in the voice lessons world (generally speaking) head voice singing is considered healthier than chest voice singing. Most kids ignore this idea, as you can tell from American Idol where many of the kids just scream, but there are some kids who are real purists, especially if:
a) They are the voice teachers pet
b) They have a lousy chest voice
Anyhoo (again) after Rob made the announcement about learning chest voice stuff, a girl came up to him and challenged him.
14-year-old-know-it-all: Chest voice singing is bad for you.
Broadway-Music-Director-Rob-Meffe: That actually isn’t true. It’s possible to sing healthily in your chest voice if you know what you’re doing.
14-year-old-know-it-all: What do you know? You’re just a pianist.
And she walked away and never came back. Nuh-uh. She did NOT say that. Now Rob Meffe (who we all know is Jesus) laughed as he told me and had no judgement about this girl at all. he just felt sorry for her. Of course I (being the protective spouse) wanted her name and number so I could call and put her in her place immediately. Which really means that I would call with every intention to chew her out for being so stuck up and educate her on how to act, but in reality, I would end up having a heart to heart with her, getting her to cry and then probably asking my agent if he would represent her. That’s how I roll. All bark, no bite. Rob’s all love and more love. Jesus.
But!! (and I am adding this much later) Rob did end up talking to her grandfather at the presentation many days later (her brother stayed and performed, she never came back). Apparently even after the performance the grandfather was praising the girl and kind of ignoring the sweet brother who had stayed the whole week, and it got to the point where the grandfather was ignoring the boy so much that Rob told him the whole story about the girl. To which the grandfather said quietly, “She can be a twit.”
Moral of the story? Rob Meffe will totally tell on you to your grandfather.
Okay, and here’s the next post, I started this earlier this week. The background story you need to know is that Maryday (my best friend who married my brother, so technically now my sister in law) and her 2 girls (my nieces Gwendolyn and Elizabeth) came and stayed with us for 8 days. During the majority of that time, Rob was gone. So let me work that out for those of you keeping score at home. Two women in their 40’s, one 14-year-old (Charlotte) who is doing her “Regents Exams” at school (a big hairy deal), an 11-year-old (Gwendolyn), a six-year-old (Elizabeth) and a four-year-old (Beatrix). And a cat who plays fetch. All in one apartment for 8 days in New York City. Let me tell you what THIS is the reality show you all want to see, screw The Real Housewives of New York City. We have love and meltdowns and arguments and laughter and most of all–very little sleep. I couldn’t blog. I didn’t have a second to myself (and I was still auditioning for jobs and looking at real estate and researching schools), but I did try to write one when Rob came home. This is how far I got. Ready?:
As I write this I am watching a fierce game of “Pretty Pretty Princess” between Rob, Maryday, Beatrix and my niece Elizabeth. Nothing says masculinity like plastic earrings and a crown. He won’t let me post a picture, which I feel is completely unfair.
And that’s as far as I got. Did you blink? You may have missed it. The funny thing? Those three sentences took me about 20 minutes to write. So okay, I’m back, and I have some fun stuff coming up–including a late breaking blog that will run past my June 30th cut off because I just HAVE to share my experience with you. I booked the lead in one episode of a Lifetime TV show, and it’s my first TV show ever and I start on Saturday and I’ll tell you every detail as long as Lifetime doesn’t throw me in jail for leaking secrets or something. So that is my consolation prize to you for being such a negligent blogger. Okay? Okay. Mark Motz and other who love Broadway West, I’m not sure what this means for our cliffhanging Vegas story, let me just see what I can pull off, okay? I also have to pack up my apartment and get ready to leave for Vermont. And I have to get Charlotte ready to go to Italy.
And now I have to go. OH–and I thought it over and I am not going to move to a “pay” based blog, it isn’t right for me or you, and I am going to stick with advertisers. Okay? Okay. Thanks for the feedback and patience with me, ya’ll.
More soon. I’m excited. It’s gonna be fun.