new york city kid in arkansas
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For a while now I’ve found myself running late, frazzled, hair a mess, forgetting things and apologizing while implying that we’re not usually like this. After many recurring incidents, I’ve come to the disappointing conclusion that we are, in fact, usually like this.  This is the new me, the new us. We are working parents of a tween and no longer civilized.  One of our favorite family stories comes from a couple summers ago when Troy was having a bad day and a little girl sadly said to him, “Sometimes Mr. Troy just isn’t Mr. Troy.”  I like to say that about all three of us sometimes.

For instance, didn’t I use to write blog entries every few days or weeks?  Since last I wrote, Troy ran and closed a wonderful show at TheatreSquared called “All the Way” about LBJ and the passing of the Civil Rights Act in 1964 which has disturbing relevance today. It isn’t easy watching Troy play a racist senator from Mississippi (James Eastland) or the man basically responsible for the Vietnam War (Robert McNamara), but luckily he’s usually Mr. Troy when he’s home. Huck suddenly decided he had to see Troy’s closing performance, making the surprisingly selfless decision to forego bowling with a friend in favor of sitting through a three hour political drama. While he was a relatively good audience member, he did occasionally whisper questions to me like, “I’m just curious, what time does intermission happen?”

Over the past month we lost Internet and our ice maker for five days each and woke up one morning to a flood in our kitchen caused by a leak from the outdoor faucet.  You know Mercury is in retrograde for three weeks when you slowly slop through water and start the coffee with nary a confused facial expression, because by now you’re so accustomed to nothing working the way it’s supposed to.  ”Honey?” I said shaking Troy awake while drying my wet feet as the coffee began brewing. “Our kitchen floor is flooded.”

Next on our agenda is a staged reading of my favorite playwright John Walch’s play “Craving Gravy” by my favorite director Shana Gold at hotel/art museum 21C in Bentonville next weekend, followed by Troy’s reading of stories written by and performed for death row inmates at a prison in Varner, Arkansas.  In a few days Huck will perform five songs from “Music Man” at school, delighting us with his angelic voice and sudden love for musical theatre. Sunny continues to do nothing with her life, and we three are very jealous of her lazy days.

Usually we’re pretty full of gratitude for it all.


Pappy T

September 25th, 2016

SO jealous of lazy Sunny dog!

Aunt Jeni

September 25th, 2016

This realization of yours has helped me deal with my crazy life. And I would really like to trade places with Lola or Luna each day. Thank goodness mercury is back in non-retrograde or whatever. XOXO


September 25th, 2016

I love that Huck loves musical theater … and loves seeing his dad in a play more than bowling with friends … XOXO


September 27th, 2016

Love you guys! No time to write more because my ice maker is also broken, my fridge flooding and my son is singing Shawn Mendez at the top of his lungs while moonwalking (sorry we’re not as cultures as you). My cat, tom, however is on the same career track as sunny. My hyper dog, Frankie, just doesn’t get either of them. Xoxo!!

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