Poetry Prayer #16

I've been thinking a lot lately about being alone and being in company. I knew the first lines of this poem, most people do, but I had no idea what the rest of it was like.

Solitude
by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Laugh, and the world laughs with you;
Weep, and you weep alone.
For the sad old earth must borrow it's mirth,
But has trouble enough of its own.
Sing, and the hills will answer;
Sigh, it is lost on the air.
The echoes bound to a joyful sound,
But shrink from voicing care.

Rejoice, and men will seek you;
Grieve, and they turn and go.
They want full measure of all your pleasure,
But they do not need your woe.
Be glad, and your friends are many;
Be sad, and you lose them all.
There are none to decline your nectared wine,
But alone you must drink life's gall.

Feast, and your halls are crowded;
Fast, and the world goes by.
Succeed and give, and it helps you live,
But no man can help you die.
There is room in the halls of pleasure
For a long and lordly train,
But one by one we must all file on
Through the narrow aisles of pain.

Snuffleupagus

It's common knowledge that child-free adults, like a lot of other brands of adults, take a ration of shit about their choices. I feel that, aside from the occasional pointing out of facts, you don't much need to say anything about it. You know, unless you have a chance to speak in a national reading series or something. Today, though, I encountered an obstacle that bears pointing out.

I follow Gretchen Rubin, the author of The Happiness Project and Happiness At Home, on Twitter. I've seen her speak once and I've read one of her books. If you're unfamiliar with Ms. Rubin's work it's about her search to make her life a happy one. She's a planner and she made a plan to try and increase her happiness quotient and used a blog, later a book, to track her results and offer the plan to others. While her own life, which includes a husband and children, is used in her examples she makes it clear in her writing that her principles are for everyone. We don't agree about everything but we're adults so that's to be expected. I like her vibe and I appreciate her writing and I like to know what's going on with her. After reading her book I would venture that she'd no more mean to exclude child-free readers based on her being a mother than she would exclude male readers because she's a woman.

When Rubin tweeted a request for people to fill out a survey this morning I clicked through to help her out. Turns out it was an opinion poll about a redesign of her website and possibly her next writing project. I am happy (see what I did there?) to help with that sort of thing to the extent I can. Some questions were required and some not. Down near the end of the survey, in the section where they capture demographics, I hit a snag. Usually a lot of these questions are optional but in this case they were all required, which makes sense if she's trying to gather potential marketing and PR information. I could fill out my age and my income but the next required question is about how many children I have. Here are my choices (and I'm allowed to tick all that apply):

• I'm planning to have a child someday
• I am pregnant
• 5 more choices with age ranges of children

Do you see me there?

Me either. So now I can either not complete the survey and stay silent, complete the survey with the lie of my choice, or speak up. I tweeted to Ms. Rubin publicly that I was unable to help her because all of the answers on that question assumed a desire or plan for children. She got back to me shortly saying she'd just realized that and was working on the fix.

That's a perfectly reasonable response and I appreciate both her speed toward solution and the time she took to reply to me. I suspect she'd already heard from other folks. I don't want it to sound like I'm blaming her exactly, mistakes are mistake and that's cool. Anyone who has ever written anything even as small as a tweet knows that proofreading can be a bitch, even when you're good at it. There's one thing that continues to niggle at me.

No one noticed that might be a problem.

I don't know if Ms. Rubin wrote the survey herself or if she had help from a publishing or marketing professional but, as a writer and a collaborator, I feel certain that she had multiple pairs of eyes on this before she let it go live to a large audience and not even one of those people spoke up to say that they'd left out an option. In fact, the first response "I would like to have a child someday" is pretty clearly crafted to make sure that the question doesn't exclude families working with infertility and it's also technically valid for waiting families in the adoption process. Not having children, though?

There's that saying, "There's no such thing as bad press." Even if they're excoriating you they're thinking about you and that's going to boost your brand in some way. Look at all the blogs in the sphere that devote their time to making fun of TV shows. You can't skewer a show well unless you're watching it and if you're watching you're boosting their ratings. It turns out, though, that the child-free choice gets no press at all, not even a glimmer in the back of someone's mind that says, "This question feels funny." No matter how many times we politely clear our throats no one even turns to look.

Pagination

The past couple of times I've had performances I've tried to remember to put a signature at the bottom of each blog post about the show. It turns out I'm not especially consistent about that. It also means that you have to go searching through unrelated posts to find the information about the show. Finally a solution came to me.

You'll note that I've got a new page up top there titled, "Can You See Me?" That page will get updated with all the appropriate information and links whenever I'm performing. All you have to do is click to figure out what, where, when, and how to buy tickets.

In this case it's my cabaret show, Back Where I Belong, at The Duplex on June 7th at 7pm ($15 cover + 2 drink minimum). I hope that you'll be able to come and I humbly beg you to please spread the word to anyone who might be interested. I'm excited to be playing The Duplex for the first time and I'd like them to be excited* about having me.

*Excitement in this case can be measured by the number of paying audience members. It's a cold hard fact of running a club.

Above And Beyond

If you've been paying attention at all you know that last night I read as part of the New York City arm of the 2013 Listen To Your Mother movement. We had a glorious crowd, both large and responsive. With their help we were able to give $1,000 to our chosen charity, Family to Family. As you can imagine, the event was much more than words on a page or even words from our mouths but I want to share here the words I shared yesterday at Symphony Space. Thank you for being part of the support that made my experience so rich.

About Me

I am:

An only child.

Single.

Never married.

Child free.

By choice.

When I was 10 my cousin, Chris, was born and my Aunt Lennie polled the rest of us. Tim, Sara, & Mike were siblings. I was an only child. I advocated for only children on the basis of liking being able to be on my own, of going places with my parents, of not having to fight for every inch of space and time and energy I needed or wanted. It wasn’t, I knew even then, a terribly nuanced, or even strong, argument but my convictions were pure. Chris remained an only child and I understand now that I was soothing fears, not helping to make choices, but I was flattered to have been asked.

I have been called:

Selfish.

Childish.

Picky.

Foolish.

Worthless.

Weird.

Once you reach a certain age people begin to wonder why you aren’t married and they give you lots of advice. The most baffling is always to be less picky. If you would just care less about how you want to spend THE WHOLE REST OF YOUR LIFE then you could be married! Easy!

I used to date a guy...off and on for years. He was never going to marry me and for a while I was sad about that. Then, on a dark and stormy night a couple of years ago I threw him out of my house and was genuinely glad about it. He used to tell me that if I ever wanted to have kids he’d be happy to “help me out” because “we’ve got great genetic material.” He has kids with someone else now and, if all the rumors I’ve heard are true, they’ve been a real eye opener for him and not in the way he’d hoped. I don’t think genetic material is a good enough reason. What’s so special about my genes that they need to be passed along?

Things I do:

Listen.

Sound out words.

Cut up banana pancakes (I hate bananas).

Dress up like a mermaid.

Bake birthday cakes.

Attend concerts, plays, and awards ceremonies.

Find Waldo.

Snuggle.

Leave the light on.

Love.

No, I don’t want to have kids, actually. I don’t hate kids. I hate having to say that, though, because it sounds like I’m defending myself and I sort of am. It’d be easier if I was just anti-kid, but I’m not.

At my Auntie Blanche’s 80th birthday she looked around the restaurant at all the strangers staring at our balloons and cake and flashing cameras. She leaned over to me and said, “They don’t have any idea that not one person at this table is related to me.” Auntie Blanche isn’t technically my aunt. She was a role model for me and for hundreds of others she met through her years as a public school teacher and local celebrity. Single and child-free she dedicated her life to children. She’d pile a bunch of us kids into the back of her car and drive us to the beach for the afternoon. Wearing a wrap skirt over her bathing suit and a white, cloth sun visor she stood up to her knees in the cold, Atlantic ocean so we could body surf until our lips turned blue.

What I’m saying is, I learned at the feet of a master.

I do not:

Regret my choices.

Mourn my differences.

Love less.

Care less.

Misunderstand.

What if I had kids of my own and that meant that I didn’t have the kid-centric relationships I have now? No Kaleigh who takes my dog out for ice cream. No annual visit to Santaland with Rosa. No weirdly fascinating silent narratives at brunch with Felix. I don’t find the mythical loss of kids-I-could-have-had terrifying. It’s the idea of losing these kids I love now that drops the bottom right out of my stomach.

I am:

Content.

Fulfilled.

Grateful.

Many years ago Mark and Carolann had a brief lapse in child care so Felix and I hung out in deepest Brooklyn one frigid January day. After wrestling the damn stroller out the door I was determined to take as long a walk as we could stand. Luckily we wheeled by a coffee shop and I decided to thwart frostbite by snagging a table with a view of the sidewalk. I set him free but he was content to watch the world go by and I watched with him. A few moments later I felt a little hand on my thigh so I looked down and he looked up at me as if to say, “Isn’t it nice sharing a quiet moment together?”

Yes. Yes it is. It’s perfect.


*The picture above was the random one that showed up on my computer desktop when I arrived at work this morning. That was perfect, too.

Poetry Prayer #15

Today I'm going to stand up in front of a theatre full of mostly strangers and tell them the story of people I love. It's making me cry a little to think about it but I'm excited, too.

When I was in drama school we had to choose one of the choruses from Shakespeare's Henry V and present it. If you've done any Shakespeare work at all you've probably worked on the first one. "O for a muse of fire that would ascend the brightest heaven of invention..." probably rolls off your lips at the slightest provocation. I wanted to do something different so I read through them a couple of times and finally chose the third one because I liked the phrase, "petty and unprofitable dukedoms" near the end. It wound up teaching me a lot, not only about acting Shakespeare, but about acting songs and acting in general. The choruses are exposition. They're the part of a play or TV show or movie that's like reading the phone book. You can't give that stuff to a crappy actor if you want anyone to listen to it. The pictures in this piece are exquisite and I've grown to love the ones I see in my head when I speak the words. My ability to paint those pictures by speaking these words seemed like a good thing to remind myself of on a day like today.

Enjoy this gorgeous poem. I'll see you on the other side.

Henry V
Chorus iii
by William Shakespeare

Thus with imagin'd wing our swift scene flies
In motion of no less celerity
Than that of thought. Suppose that you have seen
The well-appointed king at Hampton pier
Embark his royalty; and his brave fleet
With silken streamers the young Phoebus fanning:
Play with your fancies, and in them behold
Upon the hempen tackle ship-boys climbing;
Hear the shrill whistle which doth order give
To sounds confused; behold the threaden sails,
Borne with the invisible and creeping wind,
Draw the huge bottoms through the furrow'd sea,
Breasting the lofty surge: O, do but think
You stand upon the ravage and behold
A city on the inconstant billows dancing;
For so appears this fleet majestical,
Holding due course to Harfleur. Follow, follow:
Grapple your minds to sternage of this navy,
And leave your England, as dead midnight still,
Guarded with grandsires, babies and old women,
Either past or not arrived to pith and puissance;
For who is he, whose chin is but enrich'd
With one appearing hair, that will not follow
These cull'd and choice-drawn cavaliers to France?
Work, work your thoughts, and therein see a siege;
Behold the ordnance on their carriages,
With fatal mouths gaping on girded Harfleur.
Suppose the ambassador from the French comes back;
Tells Harry that the king doth offer him
Katharine his daughter, and with her, to dowry,
Some petty and unprofitable dukedoms.
The offer likes not: and the nimble gunner
With linstock now the devilish cannon touches,
[Alarum, and chambers go off]
And down goes all before them. Still be kind,
And eke out our performance with your mind.

No, Thank YOU

The muppet-themed birthday party I went to in March had a brilliant set up where each activity was done in the name of a character. Kermit sponsored the cupcake decorating, Sam the Eagle admonished you to wash your hands in the bathrooms, and the room with the liquor was designated the Statler and Waldorf Adults-Only Lounge.

In the birthday girl's room she'd rigged a backdrop and borrowed a tripod from her grampa and put her birthday present, a new camera, to use. This was known as Miss Piggy's Modelling Studio. Each guest was asked to stop by during the party and take a photo of themselves, preferably with our girl.

These might be my favorite shots of me taken in a long, long time. Miss Piggy runs a high class establishment.

I Won't Stop Writing These

I'd tell you about Our Misti's Kikimama but she does it so much better. Don't tell either of us that cats can't save lives.

Treats for everyone, for sure.

Photo Challenge: COMMUNITY

As we draw closer to the Listen To Your Mother show here in NYC the theme of COMMUNITY has, of course, been prominent in my mind. This is a prompt I think I'll come back to. The results are beautiful and I bet we'd do more with another crack at it.

Our Bethany moved away from my neighborhood shortly after this photo was taken. Having this shot in the challenge and meeting her for a drink on Friday are both bittersweet.

Our Cindy was chosen to carry one of the flags in her local AIDS walk. She's the perfect person for that kind of honor.

I have no idea what's going on here in Our Ana's community but I love it! I want a mask and a tambourine and a place to wield them both.

The sign captured by Our Janet reads, "You've been flocked." Apparently it's a prank of love. Well, sure!

The woman on the left in my recent rehearsal was tired, hungry, and discouraged when she arrived. By this point, she'd turned it around and gotten the giggles.

I'm in a swirling vortex of preparing for both Listen To Your Mother and Back Where I Belong. This is my art and sometimes it's scary but it's still fun. Prompt this go 'round is ART! Whatever that means to you. Could be anything...

Please enter by 9am Tuesday May 21st for posting on May 22nd. Tag your photos with PHOTO CHALLENGE and ART. Check out the wonderful work in our Flickr Pool for inspiration. Also, let me know if you have questions.

A Good, Hard Look

The annual Blogher conference features something now called Voices of the Year. It's an event that originated as the Community Keynote, the brainchild of the awesome Eden Kennedy. One of the keynote speech time slots for the conference features a lineup of members reading an important post from the past year of their blog publishing. Since the beginning of this tradition, before I'd ever been to a Blogher conference, I wanted to be part of it. It has been one of the highlights of my experience at the three Bloghers I have attended and I'm very much looking forward to it again this year.

The process is that you can nominate a post by you or someone else and there is a combination of voting by the community and by a jury of our peers that decides the final slate of readers. I am late in the game as submissions close on May 15th but, spurred by the excitement of Listen To Your Mother, I decided to see if I could choose something to submit. The allowable time period runs from, I believe, March of last year to present so I got myself back to March of last year in these here archives and I began to skim and read and remember. This turned out to be pretty humbling.

You know me, I love a good routine. There are plenty of lists and links and now even poems on this blog. The photo challenge, which I wouldn't change for the world, is prominent and the sight of it kept me from abandoning my search all together because at least I know I'm doing something of which I'm proud. There are far too many Treats For Everyone posts, and I don't mean that I wish I hadn't written them, I mean that we've lost far too many in our world. There are a few quick jokes or vignettes that are sweet and spot on but they do not stand alone. They cry out "I AM BLOG" in the same way that parachute pants scream, "I AM THE EIGHTIES." I am seeing very little proof that a practiced, polished, capable writer lives here.

The irony of this is that it's been a year in which I've worked very hard on my writing and seen it bear sweet fruit. My cabaret, Back Where I Belong, is some of the best comedy writing I've done in a while and it has stood the test of several audiences (one tiny joke notwithstanding). Since the first of the year I've been writing 15 minutes a day on two long form projects that are coming along nicely in a slow-and-steady-wins-the-race sort of way. My participation in Listen To Your Mother has to underscore this point in my development, too, doesn't it? Yet finding a piece to offer to VOTY is proving to be a blog-altering experience.

I suspect things around here are going to change a bit. I don't think you'll see 10 Things Tuesday every week. I don't know that you'll see posts every day, or even the 4-5 days per week I've been managing lately. (But what if people forget about me? AUGH!) Maybe the answer is 15 minutes a day on my long form projects and 15 minutes a day on my blog-focused projects. Maybe it's one essay a week but spending the time to craft it well. Maybe I won't change a thing.

Just don't be surprised if I do.

LTYM Blog Blast: Screaming Down The Hill

Yesterday was one of those days where I lamented not being independently wealthy. Our Misti's Listen To Your Mother show went off at 3pm my time. I thought of her in her bombshell dress watching all her work (and that of her team) come together. Friends posted updates and sent pictures and I know there will be more to come but if money (and time) had been no object I'd have been there. By the same token next week I would fly her here. Even if she didn't want to come (she's said she does) I would trick her onto a fancy private plane and have a car meet her at the airport and deliver her right to the show with mimosas to sip along the way.

You see, this year of Listen To Your Mother firsts is ours to share. Each should be deeply in the other's business regarding all things LTYM. Last year I confided to her that I was auditioning and I explained the whole process and when she cared enough to research my desire she found a show close to her and she auditioned, too. She got in last year and I didn't but at least one of us did, right? Encouraged by our respective region's LTYM teams I auditioned again this year and Misti threw her hat in the ring to start up an Oklahoma City show. We both won the shiny carnival prize and it's been a fantastic experience to share it even from so far away.

While I eagerly await more recaps and pictures from Misti's show I'll be preparing for the NYC show next Sunday (have your tickets yet?). I've been handed a second round of edits, I'm only halfway through clothing myself for the performance, and I have some courage that needs screwing to a point that sticks, if you know what I mean. I write a lot. I perform a fair amount. Reading out a personal essay, though, that's not so much my wheelhouse. Most of the time even having someone else read my essays aloud is an experience from which I find it hard to recover.

Now you'd think that, given the company I'm keeping in the NYC show, it would be even harder to share these feelings. This isn't a collection of half-assed musings carelessly chosen and tossed together. There is much to live up to here. The essay I'm reading is about my very personal choices in relation to motherhood and I'm reading it to a group made up largely of mothers on Mothers Day. You'd think it would be terrifying and, to some extent, it is but this group (both locally and nationally) is so strong, so diverse, so full of an energy I can't describe that it feels, well, not easy but easier, to be sure.

Last year when I told Misti about LTYM I could only send links and words. Now I have the opportunity, not with her unfortunately, and not with all of you but with a fair number, to share the actual sitting-in-the-room experience of Listen To Your Mother. I've heard from a few of my friends that they're coming and I'm thrilled and honored and so excited that they will bet there. I want more, though. I always want more. So, if you're on the fence or you know someone who is or if you haven't even considered it but I can twist your arm now, please buy a ticket and come take this ride. Sure, I'm scared to get on the roller coaster but as long as I've got friends screaming down that first hill with me I know I'll have a great time.

With less than a week to go until our show a bunch of people are writing about Listen To Your Mother today in a Big Blog Blast. I'll be updating as I can with links to those pieces.

First a link to the cause that NYC is supporting, Family to Family

Fellow NYC castmate, MaryBeth Coudal (2nd photo)

Another castmate,  Kim Forde (visible in 1st photo) (includes giveaway)

NYC Producer Holly Rosen Fink (with giveaway)

2012 NYC cast member, Estelle Sobel Erasmus (another giveaway)

Our director, Amy Wilson

Our co-director, Shari Simpson

An interview with cast member, Barbara Shriever Patrick

Giveaway by Onica at Mommy Factor

Giveaway by Kim Bongiorno

2012 cast member, Ilana, of Mommy Shorts is doing a brilliant photo challenge with a book giveaway and some tix to LTYM. You have to go check this out.

Another giveaway by KiwiCanadian at Mama Goes BAM

Couple more tickets up for grabs at Old School/New School Mom

*Pictures taken by me at LYTM NYC's rehearsal last week.

Poetry Prayer #14

It's funny how hard it is to find a poem when I'm trying to honor a specific event. Today Our Misti launches Listen To Your Mother in Oklahoma City. This poem is...weird maybe but it spoke to me so this is what I'm using.

Cigarettes And Whiskey And Wild, Wild Women  

by Anne Sexton

(from a song)

Perhaps I was born kneeling,
born coughing on the long winter,
born expecting the kiss of mercy,
born with a passion for quickness
and yet, as things progressed,
I learned early about the stockade
or taken out, the fume of the enema.
By two or three I learned not to kneel,
not to expect, to plant my fires underground
where none but the dolls, perfect and awful,
could be whispered to or laid down to die.

Now that I have written many words,
and let out so many loves, for so many,
and been altogether what I always was—
a woman of excess, of zeal and greed,
I find the effort useless.
Do I not look in the mirror,
these days,
and see a drunken rat avert her eyes?
Do I not feel the hunger so acutely
that I would rather die than look
into its face?
I kneel once more,
in case mercy should come
in the nick of time.

The Winds of Change Do Blow

I love the Disney animated version of 101 Dalmations. I especially love the bit at the beginning showing people who look like their dogs. I think of it often as I get to know dogs in real life and boy does it hold true. Sometimes it's not the way they look, it's something deeper but the comparison always holds. I think I looked like Emily to some extent - a little off proportion here and there but an attractive, work horse design. I know that we were, temperamentally, the same. She covered up her feelings until they exploded, usually over someone who just didn't understand.

I don't think I look anything like Ed at all. He's svelte and quick and muscular. A little goofy, too, but it's not what you first notice. Our personalities, though? Well, I can't deny it. At the top of a long list we are both highly sensitive to change. While he can roll with the punches of a mutable daily schedule any larger shifts are a huge challenge. I am only beginning to understand, after an incident with a substitute dog walker and some related class work, that new people are a gigantic stressor for him. He's often really good in new situations, even with crowds and a lot of attention focused on him, but the factor that keeps his poop in a group is me. When he doesn't have my cues to read about who to accept and who to banish from his kingdom he regresses fast and, quite literally, furious.

Yesterday I found out that our beloved dog walker, Sarah, is leaving the company. She is a textile artist and, though I'm not privy to her reasons, I assume she's going to concentrate on her career in one way or another. I have it in my heart to be happy for her. I do! I want to be doing what I love, too, so it's fantastic to see that as possible. While I was out this afternoon buying a small goodbye gift for her, though, I found myself on the edge of tears. I'm going to miss her! I've only laid eyes on her maybe five times total but I'm going to miss the hell out of her. I know that this sounds a little insane and someone is probably wondering if they should warn Sarah immediately but I promise I mean no harm. She was just such a fantastic fit for me and Ed. I'd begun to think of her as a constant, even planning what to give her for Christmas, so I set myself up for this news to be a shock.

Ed exhibited his typical acting out behavior when he first met Sarah. She immediately asked what I did to help him stop reacting in those ways. She listened to what I had to say and she worked with him carefully and consistently over time until, after several weeks of getting at least one great report, this week I got three notes in a row that were extremely boring because he'd been a good boy, nothing to put on record or to ask. He likes her. He trusts her. He even listens to her. He's made huge strides with me lately as well and I'm sure that a common approach from both of his regular companions has a lot to do with that.

Tonight we're meeting the new guy, Felix. I hope I don't burst into tears and embarrass myself. I'm actually looking forward to it and I'm sure that he's a good and capable person. I've read his resume, he's got the goods, and I trust Melissa and Adam not to bring in any flakes, especially not for Ed who has given a few of their walkers (and Adam himself) a run for their money. I consulted with Rikke, our trainer, about how best to do the intro and we have a plan. I'm sure that it will all work out...eventually.

But I'm going to miss Sarah a lot and Ed will, too.

Nearly Wordless Wednesday: Stories

I had my camera with me so I took some pictures during our Listen To Your Mother rehearsal last night. These are just a very very few of them. The rest will be on Flickr soon. Promise. Have you bought your tickets yet?

Momma D!

You know what can make you nervous? Taking a picture of a photographer. Nivea made it easy, though.

I'm so glad I got this particular pose of Virginia's before she a. uncrossed her legs and b. made me cry too hard to keep shooting.

A conference at intermission to discuss how best to break it to us that we still have some tickets to sell. (Who knows how long they'll last, buy now!)

You know how you can tell that LPru is a pro? Sister can find her light in a blackout! Thanks for finding the pretty spot!

I'm trying not to kick myself for missing the focus here but I love the way Nicole is expressing what we all feel after we've bared our souls a bit in front of a group of (relative) strangers. How beautiful is she? And brave? I can't wait for you to hear.

Speaking of focus, when you hear Sofia's story you'll get an extra laugh over the fact that I managed to focus on her breasts here instead of her face.

It's a rare talent to be able to honestly enjoy watching a show you're directing instead of listening to your mind racing around all the things you still have to do. Fortunately Amy has that talent.

Rebecca's smile makes me happy.

Whenever I see Jaime I turn into an old lady and think, "His mother must be so proud." We'll find out on May 12th at 5pm at Symphony Space!

Not All But Most

Ten Things Tuesday won't be all about Listen To Your Mother today but there's going to be a generous sprinkling, you can bet on it.

1. Have you bought your tickets to Listen To Your Mother yet? There are 24 cities, all featuring local writers. I'd love it if you'd go to one. If you're skeptical I think you might be surprised at how much you like it. (They're not all on the same day so you should look for the city near you and find out what their date is.)

2. Yesterday Our Misti watched her city's show sell out, which had to have been a marvelous feeling. Her response was to rent more chairs and sell some more tickets. When I checked a few hours ago there were only 20 seats left from the new number. I don't know what ticket sales are like in other cities but I feel as though this is a cautionary tale. If you're interested (you are, you are!) then don't wait to buy. Last year I waited and only got a ticket at the last minute when some cancellations came in. Fellow cast member, Laura Pruden, tells me she wound up making some black market kind of a deal buying a ticket in the ladies room on the day of the show. Will NYC sell out? We don't know but let's not put it to the test by waiting.

3. Speaking of tickets and shows and whatnot, I booked my cabaret show, Back Where I Belong, in a new-to-me venue. One night only (June 7th at 7pm) I'll be performing at The Duplex in NYC's West Village. I'd really like to show these people what my story and my friends are like. Please, please, please, please come see me. You can make reservations right now by clicking this link.

4. Yesterday an NBA player came out. I'm glad he did and it was wonderful to see what care he took with his detailed and heartwarming announcement. Most news outlets have been quick to say that he is the first active pro sports player to come out. Feministing reminds us that they missed a word. That word is male.

5. Do you want to get a taste of a Listen To Your Mother show before you buy your ticket? Misti includes a video excerpt of yesterday's rehearsal in this post.

6. I often joke that my job could be done by a middling-intelligent monkey. Some poor admin at Sotheby's points out that I'm exaggerating. (Side note: What is Sotheby's doing looking for admins on Craig's List?)

7. These pretty charts showing the age of some Hollywood leading men as compared to their leading women makes me feel roily in my tummy.

8. Are you having trouble figuring out a Mothers Day present for a mom? You should buy a ticket to a LTYM show. If that's absolutely not possible for you here are some other ideas that are cute. Not as cute as tickets to LTYM, though. You want to give that mom an experience.

9. This item deserves its own post but I'm so angry about it that I'm having trouble stringing words together. Better to get the info out in the world a little further right now than to wait until I can wrap my words around it. People (people like Rush Limbaugh but still, technically, people) are equating the younger Tsarnaev brother with Trayvon Martin. These people are angry that both boys' life stories are being told in the news. They feel that treating either of them, an innocent young man shot down on his way home from a convenience store and a slightly older young man with some unknown involvement in a scheme that killed and injured hundreds, as whole humans is a shameful thing. They thinks that equating these two men is correct. I can't fucking even. Bastards.

10. Let's end up on a neato keen note about World Book Night. This tale of book giving made me feel a little sorry for my earlier misgivings.

Now go buy your tickets to LTYM and make a reservation to come see my show. OK? Please?

*Photo is a tribute to Mothers Day. Queen Bee took that in Venice of me and Mama Kizz. We look great because we've gotten over our jet lag. That photo was taken the day before we returned to the US.