Another Halloween has come and gone, adding more delightful memories of pumpkin carving and costume creating and candy consumption to our already very, very full hearts.  This year Huck deviated from his usual eccentric costume ideas, giving his dad a break and allowing us to purchase his entire Harry Potter ensemble.  My first instinct was to argue for something more creative and unusual, but there was something sweet about the fact that he has grown to love such a wonderful literary character.  Sometimes I catch him out in the yard with a stick practicing his spells with a very serious look on his face.  And as an added bonus, his dear friend Lydia was dressing as Hermione (as was his Illinois cousin Lily), giving him a partner as we trick or treated on the square and later door to door.  And the day after found us on a long overdue autumn walk at Lake Fayetteville, making the celebration complete for Mom.  Have you noticed a change in our parental names?  A week or so ago Huck decided it was time to stop calling us Mommy and Daddy.  He attempted “Mother” and “Father” for a few days, but after some gentle persuasion from the two of us he has settled on “Mom” and “Dad,” requesting that we also stop calling each other “Mommy” and “Daddy.”

The times.  They keep a’changing.

One of the reasons Troy and I wanted to live in Fayetteville was to be stage actors again.  Leaving New York City with this goal in mind may sound ironic to some, but for those of us artists who find the Big Apple hard to navigate while living a well-rounded life, it makes lots of sense.  And thanks to New York friends who come down here to work occasionally, it’s become the best of both worlds.

I’m about to close PROOF at TheatreSquared, one of my all-time favorite plays directed by one of my all-time favorite people Shana.  The experience has been a full one, complete with amazing new friends, juggling all my other jobs with no days off in sight, arranging pick-ups and play dates for Huck that nearly required spreadsheets, the death of Troy’s stepfather, unexpected trips to Kansas, stressful appointments with kind ear doctors and numerous antibiotics, delightful visits from best friends and best family, unbelievable audiences that audibly gasp and cheer and sometimes demand an encore with their standing ovation, relief that you can jump back in the saddle after years of being off the proverbial horse, and the glorious beauty that is autumn in Fayetteville.

In other words, proof that life is full of love and ups and downs and hope and healing and so much laughter is everywhere I look these days.  Now go hug someone you love.

Troy and Huck visiting Papa David in the hospital.

We are so happy that Uncle Ronnie and Aunt Dottie included Fayetteville in their cross country road trip from Virginia!

Middle Sisters with their Middle Sister Wine

Backstage selfies we take for Shana back in New York

I missed both performances of FIDDLER ON THE ROOF at The New School because I’m a little overbooked these days.

Now that Russell and Cheryl live here, Texans Shannon and Greg had two houses to stay at during their visit!

I had a show and Troy had a Montessori School campout during Huck’s school fall festival, so we sent Harry Potter with these trusty non-parent chaperones for cake walks, bingo and all kinds of fun.

When I got home that night I found people decorating cupcakes, carving pumpkins and roasting seeds with spooky music playing.  I don’t think Huck noticed anyone was missing.

At Papa David’s burial in Kansas yesterday with Troy’s family, celebrating his life and cherishing each other.

Fall is just getting going here in Fayetteville.  This morning I gave Sunny a beautiful walk and snapped a few pictures to begin documenting the ever changing leaves, one of my favorite things to do.  In the midst of this season of change, Troy’s stepfather David peacefully passed away Sunday night after a very brief struggle with brain cancer.  Troy and Huck are in Wichita now with Troy’s family for a few days while I prepare for opening night here.  My character has just flown in from New York for her father’s funeral at the beginning of fall in Chicago.  Fathers and funerals and the women who mourn them are on my mind a lot these days and nights.  Our dear friend Carmen from the Bronx who regularly sends us handwritten love letters and church bulletins wrote this last week: “We are advanced humans but not enough to combat pain and the trauma we receive when somebody we love hurts.”  We are thankful for the seven years that Papa David was in our family, and we will always remember his beautiful smile and the deep love he had for Troy’s mom.

To be continued.

This morning I asked Huck if he wanted me to volunteer at his classroom Halloween party.  He seemed a little confused by the whole subject and asked if he had a class Halloween party last year.  I said, “Yes, I was there.”  He paused and then asked, “Was I embarrassed?”  Poor mothers everywhere.

Also this morning Troy administered painful drops into my bad ear for the first time in 15 years.  These are the same awful, yet effective acid-burning, marriage-testing ear drops that were prescribed to me back in 1999 for the ear infection that would result in two botched surgeries, a massive hole in my ear drum, hearing loss and new sympathy for George Bailey.  My bad ear is one of my main character traits, but it’s only recently that it’s been acting up again, causing all kinds of regret that I didn’t let my top rated New York ear specialist repair it before we left.  As I got into the once familiar position on my right side and braced myself for the pain, Troy and I shared a heartbreaking “Isn’t this like old times?” moment.

A few hours later I found myself on my friends’  big beautiful porch watching the thunderstorm while talking to my mom on the phone.  She listened to my ear woe details, made plans to pray for a miracle, and mothered her 44 year old daughter back to good spirits.  She told me, “As your mother I  have sensed something was wrong.  I am sure you have that with Huck.”  Moms are all about the old times.

Soon I will pick my child up from school and try not to embarrass him before dropping him off at that big beautiful porch where he will help tile a kitchen while I rehearse my favorite play one week from opening night.  We’re starting early today which means we get done early tonight which means a rare evening at home.

Like old times.

After a year and three months away, I’m finally missing New York a bit.  Not the oh-no-why-did-we-move-away kind, but the wouln’t-it-be-nice-to-magically-appear-on-Fort-Washington-Avenue-for-the-day kind.  People and places are creeping into my dreams, and I know what Ft. Tryon Park is beginning to look like and the church construction is getting close to completion and the Harvest Festival is next weekend.  Maybe it’s because I’m working with four wonderful New Yorkers everyday who will eventually leave me and return home.  Maybe it’s because I have a good friend who just opened a show on Broadway last night or because friends visiting the Big Apple keep posting pictures with tall buildings and bright lights in the background. Probably it’s because my favorite season is in the air and so many familiar sights and smells take me back to the place I happily spent 15 autumns. Whatever the case, I like it.  My love for New York is returning while I get to live in my new favorite place surrounded by slowly turning leaves and a sweet dog who’s out of breath from having just played fetch in our back yard.  Now she’s literally up on her hind legs eating berries from a tree.

Last weekend was Fayetteville’s sweet film festival that epitomizes the difference between New York and here. Before we left last summer, I acted in a short film with brand new Fayettevillian Russell and New Yorker Natalie called ALL DOGS MUST HAVE PEOPLE, and I remember being slightly distracted due to an apartment full of boxes and a to-do list that never ended.  I think I’m still working on that list.  It was the last bit of acting I’d do in New York, and I like that it ended up on a medium sized screen in Fayetteville.  Because of a 5:30PM time slot, PROOF rehearsal and Troy’s work schedule, the two of us weren’t able to attend the festival, but Huck got to go with his friend Lydia to represent the Schremmers.  He and Troy and our house have cameos in the film, and Huck took his movie star status seriously by choosing a dressier than usual outfit and slicking back his hair a bit.  Since Huck was the original reason for our relocation, it’s only fitting that he gets the red carpet treatment now and again.

New York film festival, anyone?

As I write on this beautiful Saturday fall morning, Troy and Huck are on their way to Kansas in a car packed with a few clothes, an iPad and lots of snacks.  Troy’s stepdad David is in Hospice with a brain tumor and all of our prayers and thoughts and love are with him and our beloved Nana.  It was exactly this time last year that Troy and Huck drove to Kansas to help his stepmom Laura with some details following his dad’s death.  Once again I find myself busy with a show, something new to our lives, and unable to go with them. And once again I find myself thankful that we are close enough for a spontaneous drive home.

Here are a few Huck bits that have brought me some smiles lately.  I was driving Huck and his friend Ravi somewhere the other day, and after turning on the new U2 album I was treated to a 9 year old back seat conversation that went something like this:

This is the new U2 album.
Oh yes.  I know.
It was free on iTunes.
Yes, we got it.
Have you listened to it?
Oh yes!
Do you like it?
Yes!  Do you?
Yes, I love it!

After enduring all those years of Kids Bop, this was literally music to mine ears.

A couple days ago on the way home from school Huck began telling me everything he was learning about the brain, and then he wanted to pretend like he’d had a lobotomy.  ”Uh, okay.  How do we play that?” I asked awkwardly.  No further information was given to me as he went into a terribly realistic lobotomy daze.  I tried to interact with him but he said nothing.  After a few blocks I told him this was the worst game I’d ever played.  And then I realized how nice and quiet it was making him and decided to enjoy it the rest of the way home.

Our friends Russell and Cheryl have been renovating their house for the past month, and they’ve also been hanging out with Huck while I’m at rehearsal and Troy’s still at work.  Though Huck may be the least helpful son that ever existed, he’s an extremely helpful friend to non-parents.  Russell and Cheryl discovered that his small size was perfect for putting the tile on their fireplace and painting some of their walls.  When my rehearsal schedule changed two days in a row and we did not need their help after all, I thought I was going to have to find a guidance counselor to get Huck through the disappointment of spending quality time with his tired mother instead of painting with his fun non-mothers.  As the weather gets cooler and the house gets more and more finished, we five daydream about sitting in front of that fireplace that Huck helped build.

It’s also that time of year when our Shana is here from New York to direct at TheatreSquared!  And this time she’s directing me in one of my very favorite plays.  I can’t put into words how wonderful and special it is, so just picture you at your happiest and then you’ll know what I’m experiencing these nights.

Fall.  You always come at the right time.

Last night marked the end of “Much Ado About Nothing” with my friends at the Classical Edge Theatre.  We did four outdoor performances for about 500 good people of Bentonville (and a few visitors from Fayetteville) over two weekends that included one rain-out and three perfect weather days.  Judging by the following pictures, either Huck was only inspired to photograph my insane facial expressions or my Beatrice was the most animated Lady Disdain to ever walk the stage.  Sheesh.  At any rate, much fun was had by our happy little cast and I am thankful for all the wonderful theatre and its people in good old Northwest Arkansas.

The other day an old friend whose young husband recently passed away posted something on Facebook that said, “The reason we struggle with insecurity is because we compare our behind-the-scenes with everyone else’s highlight reel.”  Because of the tragedy she’s living through, along with so many other tragedies everywhere I look, I have been sad and scared for the past month or so.  It’s been a very unfamiliar feeling for me to see the world through such pessimistic, hopeless eyes.  Following a fender bender, driving across town felt like I was actually playing one of those video games where I can’t quite turn or stop the car fast enough.  I’ve also struggled with Arkansas allergies whose powers of destruction cannot be overstated, and don’t get me started on what I’ve been through with Blue Cross Blue Shield over the past six weeks.  Today I woke up feeling a little better, partly because I have an incredible steroid pumping through my weak body, but also because I’m slowly having a George Bailey moment, finally seeing the delight in the broken old stairway bannister of my behind-the-scenes life.

The other night four of our very favorite people sat with us in the backyard eating hot dogs and zucchini and swatting mosquitos.  Both couples are in the process of expensive home renovations, and so before long the conversation turned to cabinet colors and sink faucets.  Troy and I rent a beautiful home that is just right for us, but we don’t have extra money to change it even if we wanted to.  Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night terrified about our future status as elderly homeless people, and the only way to get me back to sleep is to imagine our nine year old son growing up to be a rich computer programmer that lets us live with him.  As we were listening to the excited voices around us, I glanced over at my sweet husband who spends his days playing guitar and telling stories to elementary school children, and I felt exactly like my favorite movie hero.  There was my Mary Bailey, so patient with our humble existence as he eats one too many hotdogs.  An hour later we were standing in the front yard with our arms around each other, waving at our dear friends as they drove away in their matching Priuses.  I pantomimed kicking the tire of our Honda Civic as my husband said, “Hee-haw, Sam, how ARE you?”

This is our secret code for feeling a little left out of the fun.

Lately I’ve felt poor and sick and scared, looking at pictures of fancy vacations and world travel and wondering when it’s our turn to go to the airport and pose by the ocean.  When do we get to buy a house and tear it apart and make it beautiful again?  When do we get dental insurance like everyone else?  If you Google the phrase “feeling sorry for yourself” you will see several pictures of me looking pathetic.

After our friends drove away we went into our little house that looks a bit like a fairytale cottage.  I made my way up the stairs to convince Huck it was time to put down his Harry Potter book and go to sleep.  He was full of stories about what he’d just read and for a minute there I watched his perfect little face with the eyebrow scar and the freckles and those crazy kid-teeth as my little Zuzu went on and on and on about his magical book.

And that’s when I really felt like George Bailey, the one there at the end of the movie that looks at his family and his drafty old house and remembers he’s the richest man in town.  Even with the sinus headaches and the never-ending construction going on behind your house and the hours you’ve wasted on the phone with the insurance company, it’s mostly a wonderful life.  Even with friends and mother in-laws losing their most important person and celebrities committing suicide and countries destroying each other and guns and cancer and Alzheimer’s and terrible news after terrible news, it will be a wonderful life again.  Friends will come barreling through your door at just the right moment reminding you what it’s all about, inviting you in to their new kitchen, always offering car rides and childcare and much needed conversation.  The George Bailey ending that has made all my Decembers complete needs the lost opportunities, the heartbreak, the envy, the bad guy, the missing money, the death.  You can’t fall asleep or fast forward and get the same result as when you stick it out and watch every single minute right down to the closing credits.  Just like the highlight reel can’t exist without the behind the scenes sadness.

I hope I can remember this for the next bad day.  And I hope all my friends will give me thousands of dollars someday, too.

We three just came back from a very humble lil’ road trip to Tulsa where we visited the Gilcrease Museum, the Children’s Discovery Lab Museum and the Tulsa Zoo.  Huck got unlimited trips to the vending machine and most of the control over the TV remote in the hotel that we pretty much had to ourselves, Pappy got to sketch all kinds of Native American artifacts, and Mama got a bed to herself.  Sometimes it’s the little things.  When we returned to our home and our dog and my allergies later this afternoon, we took one final dip of the year in our beloved swimming pool up the mountain.  I’ll be honest: our summer may have been lacking in the exciting vacation department. Thank goodness for the nine year old perspective of what makes an exciting vacation!

(But seriously.  Maybe the Bahamas next?)

This is Huck and Troy in a maze-like bridge made of packing tape.  Exciting!

This is Huck and Troy making a bowl out of plastic bags.  Very Exciting!

This is Huck and Troy posing over my margarita at Chuy’s.  Delicious and Exciting!

The Most Exciting Ever!!!

This is Huck and Troy back at home surfing on kick boards.  Terrifyingly Exciting!!!

Today is our one year anniversary as Sunny’s family!   Though she’s still scared of lots of silly things, she’s come a long, slow way in these past 12 months.  So she somehow received misinformation regarding our beautiful petunia flower pots that used to decorate our back yard and thought they were her toys?  So she still awkwardly slinks her way around our house as if she’s not sure she’s allowed inside?  So our nine year old son is still considered a mild threat to her safety?  Even so, we see a happier dog with each passing season and couldn’t love her more.

Huck began fourth grade last week and within days became president of his friends’ Weird Club at recess.  Troy began the school year at Fayetteville Montessori where he and his guitar visit classrooms to sing and tell stories to happy kids. I’ve begun rehearsals for MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING with our friends at the Classical Edge Theatre and in a few weeks will begin directing 6th and 7th graders in FIDDLER ON THE ROOF at The New School and acting in PROOF at TheatreSquared.  And finally, our friends Russell and Cheryl have officially moved to Fayetteville and bought a charming house on Spring Street within walking distance of ours! During their various visits over the past few weeks to get everything sorted out, we adults often sat around and discussed very stressful grown-up things like foundations and inspections and bank accounts and health insurance, and more than once Huck let out a deep sigh and asked, “Can we please stop talking about problems?”  It’s good to have a kid remind you to lighten up and a dog remind you not to be scared.

Here’s to many more Sunny years!