Archive for May, 2010

Crazytown State of the Union

This post is what the LB would call a sneak attack and what I, the KP, would call “KP standard operating procedure.” Meaning, I don’t do anything consistently. Except feed my child and poop. It’s been since god-knows when I last posted to this blog, leaving all the dirty work to the LB. I abandoned her, bloggedy-speaking, but I had a rough move into the little apartment a year ago with the IC and never got my blog legs back. Until now. And so, humble readers, I’m here to represent the other half, the shadow side, if you will, of Crazytown. Far from dormant, Crazytown is just as crazy as it’s ever been. More so, actually. Did you know that the LB is, in addition to her wine-purveying job, in charge of our theatre company’s tour? She’s updating spreadsheets, getting stipend checks cut, making us discuss things like “per diems” and other unbelievably bureaucratic shit like that. If you’d told LB 5 years ago she’d be doing that, she might have laughed your nose off. I just follow orders nowadays and it feels good! (Just kidding, LB, you aren’t drunk with power yet. Yet.)

LB and I have spent the last 2 years working on a play with our theatre company. Even though we don’t live together in a single geographic location we are fortunate enough to have a reason to spend some portion of almost every day together at some point for some reason, contrived or not. We are married on Facebook.  First I married LB on Facebook, then she married SHG, but strangely I am not also married to SHG. Shhhhhh…. I think we broke Facebook. We were all three of thinking of getting married in the real world just to get stuff on a registry. What do you think? Three women (in other relationships) getting married for the photo op and registry? Isn’t that a genius scheme?

But I digress. What about the KP? I’m in the process of leaving tinytown, my cute 2 br apartment that’s just a hop-step-and-jump from LB, for a real house in a real neighborhood just a smidge further away from LB. I’m shacking up (or homing in) with “Meatball” a man-person with a nickname accidentally (or was it?) coined by SHG. He has a daughter, too, and she’s 10 years old, help me god. We are going to abide by our promise to his parents to take her to church each week, help me god. What’s the day I’m supposed to do that?

The 10-year-old, help me god, has been raised by conservative Catholic grandparents so I feel I’m about to go on the ride of my life as we uncover the panoply of cultural and moral biases that have been pre-programmed into her wee noggin by “Those Who Keep Fox News On All Day Like a Damn Sweater,” my nickname for Meatball’s parents. SHG and LB in particular have already been indispensable friends for listening to me ventilate about TWKFNOADLADS. I feel, as always, deeply grateful for my community of friends whom I know will transform this little girl’s frightened worldview into one that is far more tolerant and open-minded, just by being themselves.

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