bekah brunstetter
Bekah Brunstetter I care deeply. About a lot of things. Like really, really deep. Ow
playwright in brooklyn, NY

All Boxes Checked

September 29th, 2019 by Bekah Brunstetter

Yesterday was this flawless man’s birthday:

And so I took him swing dancing on the Battleship USS IOWA, like you do:

What who when where WHY, you ask? Because in high school, Morrison used to go to swing dancing socials alone just to get better at the Lindy Hop. And because it just so happened that Mission 22 — a charity that raises funds to prevent Veteran Suicide — was hosting a 40’s themed dance party, 40s on the Fantail (https://www.40sonthefantail.com/) On his very Birthday, AS IF WE ALL PLANNED IT. It was completely amazing and checked all Morrison Birthday Surprise Boxes:

  • By the Ocean
  • live music
  • Swing Dancing
  • craft cider tasting
  • very sincere old people in costumes
  • no really there were adorable old women dressed like sparkly sailor children
  • and so, incredible people watching
  • SNACKS

EVERYONE SHOULD GO NEXT YEAR. LET’S MEET THERE. WE WILL BE THE COUPLE IN FULL PERIOD COSTUME HOPPING LINDY (?) / I HAVE ONE FULL YEAR TO TRAIN

Posted in a lot, boys, love, MAWWAGE., YAY | No Comments »

Further and Further Away

August 14th, 2019 by Bekah Brunstetter

I don’t so much have Good dreams or Bad Dreams, I have Worry Dreams, with very simple plots that usually involve me trying to get somewhere important, pushing through sand and time to get there, but the destination keeps getting moved to somewhere far. I dream that I’m supposed to have another surgery but I’m tired of Waiting and I’m Hungry so I go to get a Sandwich but I get lost getting back and I can’t find my hospital bed because I swear I only went five minutes away, but it takes hours to get back to it. I’m realizing that all of these dreams are exactly how I feel about still trying to have a baby.  The end keeps getting moved, pushed farther. It’s always nine months away, plus Whatever Time.  I’ve been walking for hundreds of miles dragging my rolling suitcase full of stones but the Gate has changed, I swear it was There but then it’s Not. Meanwhile I can hear and see everyone, already there. They’re laughing with their toddlers, it’s a picnic, there’s face paint and wading pools and games and chicken nuggets, vats of Annie’s Mac n Cheese, they’re all waiting. Where’s Bekah? It’s so easy to get here. We’ve been here for years. Maybe she’s not coming. And I’m screaming at them, I’m coming, I’m trying, don’t leave, I’m almost there! But they can’t hear me, because as I’m screaming, they’ve moved to another planet, a million miles further away.

Posted in a lot, life, love, the future, the making of babies, what my friends are doing, whining, women, words, worrying | No Comments »

Say Goodbye to These, Michael

August 11th, 2019 by Bekah Brunstetter

Sometimes you make a cake for a friend because she’s managed to stay alive X amount of years, and it’s the yearly commemoration of her birth, and sometimes you make her a cake because she’s  getting a double Mastectomy to prevent the spread of her cancer, so that she can be MORE alive, and for longer. My LA little sister Mackenzie has been facing this whole thing head on with HUMOR AND GRACE, ie, she threw a White Girl Witch farewell party for her breasts, featuring an actual rack of lamb and performances by her close friends, staged readings of earnest scenes from the Bachelor, stand-up, song and dance — all formed around this Arrested Development favorite:

Now that she’s safely on the other side of her surgery, I have to share the Lemon Cream Cheese cake that I put all of my love and worry  into. I offered a boob cake, Mack requested that the cake ‘maybe not look like an actual boob, but maybe have…boob WRITING on it?’ PLEASE NOTE THE LITTLE EYEBALL CANDIES THAT ARE MEANT TO TASTEFULLY LOOK LIKE BOOBS.

But mostly I have to share how proud of and in awe I am of this woman. Her ability to laugh at everything and anything. The fact that in the days leading up to her surgery, she was working on pitching her next show and got two job offers. Here’s to so many more years with her, more themed tragedy parties, more inflatable props.

 

Posted in a lot, CAKES, family, food, i am lucky, life, love, the future, what my friends are doing, women, YAY | No Comments »

BOOK A CLOWN

August 1st, 2019 by Bekah Brunstetter

I’m back in town, prepping and getting my head in the game for some upcoming IVF hullabaloo, which means blood draws and needle parties and Google panics and that I just bought 47 pounds of Kale but all I can think about is Wine. MOST IMPORTANTLY, while researching things One can Do to Pretend to be in Control of One’s life While undergoing IVF, I stumbled across this gem nugget of advice:

SO HEADS UP MORRISON WILL BE SPENDING THE NEXT TWO MONTHS PREPPING HIS TIGHT FIVE AS AN IVF CLOWN / JOKE PITCHES WELCOME.

 

Posted in generally, ha, life, love, MAWWAGE., the making of babies, whining, women, YAY | No Comments »

Rachel Held Evans, 37

June 4th, 2019 by Bekah Brunstetter

This remarkable person died last month. I somehow managed to not hear about her until AFTER she died, which still feels absurd to me, as her life’s work was questioning her faith while also living in it, finding space within her religion (Evangelical Christian turned Episcopalian) for the marginalized, but mostly — BECAUSE SHE DECIDED TO LIVE A WHOLE YEAR OF HER LIFE AS A BIBLICAL WOMAN AND WROTE A BOOK ABOUT IT, LIKE SHE SLEPT IN THE YARD WHEN SHE GOT HER PERIOD AND CALLED HER HUSBAND MASTER, to both honor biblical traditions but also dig into their ridiculousness. HOW DID I NOT KNOW THIS PERSON? I have since ordered all she’s written, and plan to spend as much time as possible bathing my brain in it. So far, from what I’ve learned from her, this resonates with me the most: Living in faith is better than living in fear. But also, her death has given me a weird gift. She died at the age of 37, a few weeks shy of her 38th birthday, after complications from an infection. I’m turning 37 next week and I’ve been wearing this fact around like a big wet dress. I own 37 but don’t love that I’m becoming it with no kid or motherhood in sight. But reporters and writers  keep calling her YOUNG as they list her profound accomplishments, which makes me feel old but still young, still much to do, much to learn.  And learning Everything this dear person ever wrote and thought is next.

Posted in a lot, faith, famous people stuff, hmmmmm, i am lucky, life, love | No Comments »

THIS IS MY BABY(?)

May 11th, 2019 by Bekah Brunstetter

Cracker is definitely a comfort during all of this fuckery.  We’re leaning on him more and more, by which I mean, trying to teach him how to Hug, by which I mean, picking him up and trying to wrap his arms around us and shouting at him ARMS OUT, CRACKER, ARMS OUT! Until he leaps from our arms and hides for hours someplace we can’t find him, then he forgets that it happened, slowly re-emerges, hungry and trusting, AND IT HAPPENS ALL OVER AGAIN. HE WILL LEARN TO HUG. HE WILL.

Posted in a lot, ha, how interesting, love, trying too hard, wanting, YAY | No Comments »

next to Him

May 8th, 2019 by Bekah Brunstetter

We are going through some real fucking bullshit right now, like depths of sad marriage testing bullshit, bullshit that I will most likely expound upon later, bullshit that you can probably guess,  but for now I will just say: I LOVE THIS PERSON MORE THAN EVER, so much so that all I want to do is sit next to him and watch him play video games. I want to listen to him breathe while he sleeps and watch him eat food. Basically, he is the only Answer. AND I’M NOT EVEN TALKING ABOUT CRACKER.

Posted in a lot, boys, love, MAWWAGE. | No Comments »

how to know you married the right person

May 1st, 2019 by Bekah Brunstetter

Yesterday, a Shade guy and his two sons came by to take measurements for some outdoor shades, and as he pulled (barreled?) into our driveway, his brakes failed, and he rammed my car into the garage, taking out one of Morrison’s sideview mirror en route. I was in our bedroom, above the garage,  and the sound can only be described as ENTIRE WORLD GOING THROUGH TRASH COMPACTOR. Morrison runs outside, sees my car like so:

And I hear him through the window, the first thing he says: Are you guys okay? Because he knows what we both know: Cars can be fixed. Garage doors can be fixed. People cannot always be fixed. People > Cars. Morrison > Most people.

Posted in a lot, love, MAWWAGE., oh nooo, the whole world, things, things that I Have | No Comments »

TWO HEARTS / TWO DREAMS

April 27th, 2019 by Bekah Brunstetter

Last night, Morrison had an epic home invasion dream in which he accosted a creepy, dangerous trespasser who was trying to force entry into our house, and by accost, I mean he reached for his hatchet and hacked the man in the neck with a clean, concise movement, because Morrison, both awake and asleep, is always protecting us. I, OTHER THE HAND, DREAMT I WAS EATING A GIANT WAFFLE WRAPPED AROUND A GIANT PIECE OF FRIED CHICKEN, BECAUSE I AM ALWAYS FOOD.

Morrison

Posted in a dream is a wish your heart makes, a lot, boys, food, generally, ha, love | No Comments »

DREAM LIFE PARTNER

March 24th, 2019 by Bekah Brunstetter

He’s currently looking at pictures of Star Jasmine to train and grow up our pergola, mumbling to himself, Star Jasmine is the shit.

Every now and then, and when I least expect it,  like perhaps just announcing that he’s going to go downstairs,  he starts doing very serious modern dance moves for no reason. They’re always gone as quickly as they started.

THIS IS HOW HE PUTS THE DUVET BACK INTO THE DUVET COVER.

REALLY ASKING, HOW DID I MANAGE TO PULL THIS OFF?

Posted in a lot, boys, i am lucky, love, MAWWAGE. | No Comments »

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