I rewrote my 'Dear Polygamists' blog and submitted it to the Statesman editorial board and they accepted it for their online edition! Very cool. Of course it makes me a little nervous to have my opinion out there for everyone to read, disagree with and comment on. But since I have been openly blogging about my life, cancer treatment, trials and tribulations, I guess this isn't much different. They posted my blog address at the end so I may get a few visitors that way.
So welcome, anyone who found me through the Statesman. I don't always write ranting posts about politics, but I do tend to have strong opinions.
Best little Whorehouse rehearsals are going pretty well. The director told me this morning that, even though I don't consider myself a singer and I still claim that I am not a dancer, the vocal director and choreographer were arguing over whether I would sing in some numbers or dance in them. Apparently they both want me. Very cool to get such nice feedback, but I still doubt my ability to tap dance. And the tap number is also a lights-out flashlight dance. So I have to rub my belly and pat my head at the same time basically. And the flashlight will serve as a beacon; a beacon of suck held tightly in my both hands. "Look at me everyone! Watch as I screw up the choreography!" The scenarios I imagine are all pretty humiliating, but in the end I suspect I will learn it and perform passably both as a whore in the Chicken Ranch and as a Melvin P. Thorpe Doggette. As long as I manage the two very quick costume changes they require of me.
Jackson, the two-year-old, has been particularly difficult lately. He is really cranky and hard to please when he is sick, as he was all weekend. And I found myself at the end of my patience this morning when he crunched up his frosted flakes all over the carpet in the living room. My mom had been planning to pick him up from school today and keep him for the afternoon, so I threw in some extra diapers and a change of clothes and asked her to keep him over night. I found myself yelling at him this morning with less and less reason. Any annoying two-year-old quirk, like demanding to wear his belt even though his pants have no belt loops, put me over the edge and there I was yelling at him again. So it is best I have a break. Good thing my mom lives near enough to rescue him.