Mary, may I?

Oh Mother Mary, I am so not full of grace.  Not even a little.  When I started this post three hours ago it was going to be pretty much solely about Pinterest, my latest down falling.  But the new (as of this very morning) doorbell rang and the Enterprise guy was picking me up...just as they advertise.  So I dropped him off.  Then things went off track.  There were many post topics going through my mind as I worked my mini spinout.   As I left a troubled spot, caring a heavyish set of drawers out of the door, the woman ahead of me walked out and let the door shut on me.  When she heard me say (louder, obviously than I intended), "Oh, hell no.", she immediately turned back, apologized profusely, and opened the door for me.  Craaaap (Reba).  Then she complimented me on my keen taste.  Craaap.  See, sometimes I get so pissed off that,  not only don't I live in Texas but, I live in one of the most unfriendly places in the U.S.  I'm saying this fully aware that the lion's share of my handful of readers are my sweet peeps from here.  Please don't take offense, my dear friends.  We all know that this area is known as a "city of strangers" meaning that, while you can find fab friends as I have been blessed to, if you don't know someone you don't speak, nod, and NEVER make eye contact.  If you accidentally make eye contact, look away asap to make amends.  Soooooo, the point?  Do I have to have one?  I shall not toy with my shrinking audience...I tend to jump to negative conclusions about people when I'm on auto-pilot comparison-with-Texans mode.  But Karma is pretty good about kicking my ass quickly when I slip; usually within minutes, just as in this most recent case. 

Okay, I know blog readers.  Posts should not be longer than a potty sitting.  We have other blogs to get to or, in my case, back to Pinterest before I miss that next great pin-oy.  That will lead to another post here because this one is going past my readers' attention.  No offense, again.  Y'all have always been patient with me unlike my family who likes my stories to be in haiku form.  My usual stories can barely squeeze into a yellow pages book size area.

Okay, well I was going to talk about my shrink and my intervention needs but I shan't push it this time around.  Funny from Pinterest above.  Also, quickly, if you haven't seen my post on FB, a light, oh so funny author (I find akin to Miz Juney but perhaps even more prolific, if possible, and she gets paid...and so should Miz Juney), Celia Riverbark.  She is a riot.  You can pick up any one of her books anywhere and get a buzz of giggles.  She was apparently a columnist who published her articles.  She's the kind who can make the sad truth hilarious (like Anne LaMott only with Marshmallow Fluff).

Great play if you can get there.

Believe it or not, as many times as we have been to NYC and that Paul was born and raised there, none of us had seen a Broadway play.  My parents and, especially my mom, took me to a lot of plays and cultural events in general as I was growing up.  Paul and Matt had always resisted when I begged to go to a play many times-every time we went to Da City.  When our next door neighbors told us about all they had scheduled for their trip (see us having dinner with them on one of the other posts), I could see Paul felt a little shamed that we had never done many basic things one should do while there.  Then we went to dinner with our friend Ron, also from NY, and he so put the shame on Paul about us never having seen ANY of the endless, fabulous show proffered there.  Booyah.

They have three sites in the city where you can get same day tickets.  It's a long line.  Fortunately, or unfortunately (I don't know who had it worse), I had to stay at the hotel because we were being moved from an ant sized room to an anthill sized room and someone needed to be there for the move.  So, as the line got shorter, so did the list of options and Paul was calling every 5 minutes as he got closer to the front of the line.  In the end, two of the top choices we had talked about were available-Jesus Christ Superstar and Nice Work.  I was the only one who had seen JCS (at the movies) but, at the last minute I felt that JCS would be somewhat intense and we really needed light.  And I had seen or read about Matthew Broderick and the show and I had thought at the time it sounded good.  Good thing that seeped through my fog of my short-term memory at decision time.

The show doesn't technically open until April 24th; this was a preview performance.  Although MB needed to work on his moves a little more (he did well, but looked slightly labored), the talent was amazing.  The music was Ira and George Gershwin, classic great songs, and the story was an amalgam of the classic 1920's bootleg stories.  On top of that was the cherry that was hilarity.  The first song I thought, uh-oh, Matt's not going to like this, but seconds later a huge grin came across his face.  This, my friends, is the ultimate compliment; this guy is not at all easy to please.  Check his clothes and, especially, his shoes.  Hey, it's all new to me; I didn't have any of this with the other two-we was po and they were skateboarders who wore Chucks and torn jeans.  But I digress.  

The main theme here is that if you get to NY, go see it.  And if you go to NY and don't let me meet you there (or go with you), you are in big trouble.  Six thumbs up from here.