Live From the Blanket Fort: Of Dancing Spoons and Disappointed Napkins
Yes, it’s me. I’m still here. And this – this is still happening. But don’t worry, for I am not scared. No, I don’t have tickets to Canada to live with their free health care and hottie Prime Minister, importance not necessarily in that order. But I have protection. Witness the aforementioned blanket fort.
Notice that it is stocked with all needed provisions for the next four years. I have a bottle of cola, pop tarts, microwave popcorn, pillows, blankets, Disney movies, and animal familiars for possible future witchcraft. Thanks to Thing Two for her assistance with my safe house here. Thing one was busy at the high school musical, Beauty and the Beast. She was the star. She played a spoon. I think there was some chick named Belle in there too.
More on that later.
I had to pick her up, and the fort was still there, and my husband was due home from church. So I called him and explained that there was a blanket fort in the living room. It went like this.
Me: Hi, honey, there’s a blanket fort in the living room.
Husband: A what?
Me: A blanket fort. I have to go pick up Thing One, but we’ll clean it up later.
Husband: A blanket floor?
Me: There’s a mess in the living room. Be back soon!
So I got my daughter from her very last performance. I think you need to understand exactly what these costumes are like. As soon as I get some pictures back (I didn’t have my camera with me of course) I will post them (with her lovely face blanked out) because you have to see this thing. Think giant, thick, board (real board not that cardboard stuff) made in the shape of a spoon, strapped to her back in several places, with the spoon head sticking out far over her head. She danced in this thing. I can’t even imagine. On the plus side, her posture should be great now.
And I have to say, I enjoyed the play immensely. Now this may be a surprise, but I sort of like Disney, especially this particular movie. And the Broadway version is way better. But I had my doubts as these were high school kids who dealt with a change in directors in the very middle of a musical that involves a heavy amount of dancing and singing in big numbers because this is Disney and they do everything on speed.
Yet they surprised me, to my delight. Everything was fabulous. Gaston was short, but they even put in jokes about that. At one point his wig was knocked partly off – he tossed it back on and kept going. I missed the second performance when the beast lost his wig after being stabbed by Gaston, and Belle fell upon him in despair, and probably to cover up the wig mishap while the kids backstage stifled laughter. But honestly, mostly this was a grade A performance. Belle was incredible. The Beast was incredible. The whole cast was amazing and the story and sets fabulous.
I was informed by Thing Two that the sister of a friend came close to playing the part of Belle, but did not get it because “Miss Perfect” did (can’t fault her there, that girl can sing, dance, act, and she’s pretty – some people hit the genetic lottery). Anyway, the poor girl had to become a napkin.
“You can tell which one she is,” Thing Two explained. “She’s the most disappointed looking dancing napkin out there.”
I, however, was transfixed through the whole thing, even when my spoon wasn’t on stage. My husband, brave man that he is, shifted a lot in his seat. Father of the Year for sitting through not one but two of these three-hour performances.
But I guess this brings me back to how it is the arts that can bring us away from where we are, no matter how horrible we feel that place is. For three hours, I forgot about the election, about the problems in the world, about everything else. I was in another world, and I laughed, and I cried, at every bit of it. But when my daughter, my spoon, came out on stage for her numbers, afterward I clapped so hard with pride that my hands hurt.
This is what will get us through. Writing, humor (sometimes through choked back bile), books, movies . . . and of course, a blanket fort for protection. Here I am, watching from my fort.
I may look a bit like Snoopy from the Red Baron mixed up with Ferris from his day off, but I’m still here, darn it. I may be reporting on events from this location for a while. Probably not political events because I am still in the denial stage of grief where I pretend “The Happening” never occurred. But still reporting. Never give up, never surrender.
Never forget pop tarts and coke while hiding in your blanket fort.