For Christmas this year, The Brunstetters copied the Foster-Keddies, maybe because I forced them to, and did a Secret Santa type gift exchange. Employing a very fancy Santa app in which I first accidentally left off Dan, Each family member was assigned another, so ultimately, we each only had to get one gift, which is preferable, as we are all grown-ups. Lucky my Dad got Lucky me, and he gifted me with this beautiful charm bracelet, which bears a charm that matches each one of my plays / projects:
CAN YOU EVEN? BECAUSE I CAN’T.
So moved, so CHARMED, so excited to keep receiving charms, and to write plays JUST so I can receive the Charm of them.
Morrison got me a Chance the Rapper ‘3’ hat for my birthday this year. Chance wears the hat to represent the Holy Trinity, and also the trinity that is he, his wife and his daughter. Morrison got it for me because I do love Chance, and Chances, and also because we’re both hoping that in terms of babymaking, THIRD TIME IS THE CHARM. Cut to my parents’ visit, we spent much time in the sun, and my Dad didn’t bring a hat, so he ended up rolling around Malibu like this:
AND THE OCCASIONAL LOOKS HE GOT AS AN OLD(ER) (NOT ACTUALLY OLD) WHITE DUDE RAP FAN WERE AMAZING. C’MON PPL, GIVE THE MAN A CHANCE (JOKE)
Darwin once said, “Intelligence is based on how efficient a species became at doing the things they need to survive” and I might add ‘while waiting for prescription pickups at CVS.’ And so here’s my Mom and I, proving that we DO come from monkeys, and maybe a little bit cats, AND THAT ULTIMATELY WE ALL COME FROM THE SEASONAL AISLES OF DRUG STORES.
I know slash hope that one day our kids will call us Cute, and it will feel dismissive, and I will be like, HOW DARE YOU, I AM NOT CUTE, I CREATED YOU, YOU ARE ON EARTH BECAUSE OF ME, I GAVE YOU LIFE, NOTHING ABOUT THIS IS ‘CUTE’
BUT ALSO LOOK AT MY CUTE PARENTS
Who, for the record, rallied after a 14 hour cross country travel day to party at Ingrid’s show at The Wiltern last night. ‘CUTE!’
My brother Dan is one of the most quietly brilliant, thoughtful people I know. He’s a Veteran, but he’d never tell you. You think he’s ignoring you and texting on his phone, but actually, he’s just casually and quietly launching his own business. Last year, Dan had the pleasure (PLEASURE!) of driving my Grandma and Grandpa –who has a very specific kind of Alzheimer’s in which RAGE ONLY EMERGES WHEN HE’S BEING DRIVEN BY SOMEONE ELSE — from Virginia home to Maryland. And it gave him the idea for company that provides Veterans as travel escorts for the elderly, or really anyone who needs extra assistance getting from A to B.
The company, Convoyer, is now live: http://getconvoyer.com. Their mission states: Our company provides accompanied travel and mobility services by connecting discerning clientele with experienced military professionals. Our mission is to empower individuals and families to travel and create memories with confidence.
AND SO. Do you or a loved one have an upcoming trip that’s causing any sort of Logistical Worry? HIRE A VETERAN TO ACCOMPANY YOU | GET YOU A CONVOYER.
DETAILS INCLUDING THE FACT THAT DESPITE MY PHYSICALLY CAUTIOUS AND SAFETY-SEEKING NATURE, ALL I WANT TO DO FOREVER IS RIP AROUND ON A JETSKI, HUNTING FOR PONTOON BOAT WAVES; TAKE SMALL BREAKS FOR CHIPS
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.
I wrote my next play, Public Servant, for many reasons, perhaps too many? Because don’t we change as we live and so the play must change, as it Lives? But one of the main reasons was to humanize — not glorify, just humanize — the Politician, not the US Senator, per se, but the local government Politician, specifically the County Commissioner, which my Dad served as for many years. It’s loosely based on his early days in politics, the difficulties of raising a family while also working another job and also trying to run a county and please everyone (impossible.) The character is of course not fully my Dad, but inspired by. And so when I showed up yesterday, mid-tech, having had zero input on costumes, I WAS DELIGHTED TO FIND THIS:
I CAN FIND NO PHOTOGRAPHIC EVIDENCE BUT I SWEAR TO YOU MY DAD HAS WORN THIS EXACT OUTFIT. But just so we’re all clear, and just so we give respect and context where they are due, HE ALSO OFTENTIMES LOOKS LIKE THIS:
Maybe it was the tiniest bit hard being around my super fertile lady cousins a few weekends ago, I’m all nervous uterus and declining ovarian reserve, while they are all mom goddesses with flowing hair and regular ovulation. But thankfully for all of us, we all have miraculous senses of humor and openness and a desire to include each other in our lives, and other beautiful sentiments that justify WHY THIS TURKEY BASTER SHOWED UP AT MY HOUSE YESTERDAY, courtesy of my cousin Persie:
THANK YOU COUSINS. GRATEFUL THAT I / WE CAN LAUGH AT THIS.
HI DO YOU THINK I’M A PLAYWRIGHT WHO DOESN’T READ OR CARE ABOUT THEIR REVIEWS? HI, YOU’RE WRONG. I read them with one eye open, one eye shut to the pain, the other hoping to learn something. I’ve never been a critical darling, I’m perhaps not cynical nor subversive enough, so I wasn’t shocked to read the lukewarm reviews of Cake, tho I DON’T KNOW, I CAN GET DOWN WITH A LUKEWARM BATH, OR SOUP. But while in the past, I’ve felt devastated by bad reviews, emotionally hungover — this time, I actually feel kind of fine. Because this play is not for critics (hopefully no plays are FOR critics?) It is for these people:
A big reason I wrote this play was out of respect for my parents, their beliefs, even though a lot of them are different from my own. Last night, they joined me at opening, engaged with my ideas, HEARD MY PLAY, AND SHOWED ME LOVE. THAT IS WHO AND WHAT THIS WAS ALL FOR.
