Ack! I’m facing an unusual problem in that I have too much to write about. I want to tell you all about my trip and how pretty and sunny and GREEN it was! And there was grilling! And Bocce ball! And mini-golf! And corn cooked on the grill! And Clam Chowdah. Yummy, yummy chowdah (Oh! And a hardcore local complimented me on my pronunciation of “chowdah.”) And also beer. Lots and lots of beer. And GREEEEN.
(no seriously, look at this:
GUH-REEN. It looks photoshopped doesn’t it? Has Massachusetts always looked like this?)
But I also want to tell you about the play I went to last night with my 65 year-old boss and her former republican congressman husband. I play in which the word “fuck” was uttered many, many times. And not in the random expletive way. In the way in which it actually meant the physical act. And also the “P” word. IN FRONT OF MY BOSS. AND HER FORMER REPUBLICAN CONGRESSMAN HUSBAND. Who I was meeting for the first time. And I was wearing pearls and my handbag matched my shoes and I felt like I was going to shatter into a million pieces because I felt so awkward. The only way it could have been worse is if they suddenly started throwing tampons and condoms at us.
But it was actually a really amazing play and oddly enough the frequent use of said dirty words did nothing to detract from the fact that it was incredibly moving and touching and sweet. And they both loved it. In all of their old, republican glory they loved the play. If that doesn’t say something positive about it, I don’t know what does.
(Oh, I should probably tell y’all what it is, right? It’s part of Piccolo Spoleto festival and the play was Cloud Tectonics put on by Pure Theatre. It was VERY minimal, with the only props being 2 chairs and a blanket but it was so consuming and exquisitely acted that you could see everything they were holding and eating and looking at. The performances by Rodney Lee Rogers and Sharon Graci (a real-life married couple) were absolutely captivating and quite literally brought tears to my eyes. There are three more performances during the festival, and I cannot recommend it highly enough.)
And then we went and had dinner at the Country Club (cue obnoxious southern debutante accent) and listened to the story of how one of the local social magnates went to California to hire a surrogate mother to bear his children. And he had a high tea to welcome them into society (twins, in case you are wondering). Hilarity ensued, as you can imagine. And it turned out to be one of the most unusual and highly entertaining evenings of my life, despite the fact that I had been sort of dreading it. Who knew rich old republicans could be so much fun?
Ok, I’m just going to tell you about my trip tomorrow. It was beautiful and wonderful and amazing and I’m super-pissed to be back home.
And no, Mom, I’m not engaged. I would have called you and told you about that.