Last weekend was a long weekend, and it felt like a good combination of lazy and productive and fun.
The “productive” was clearing out a mountain of baby clothes from the guestroom – which we currently call the multi-purpose room since it houses the guest bed, the baby’s pjs and changing table, the Husband’s seldom used work from home set up, my concertina, and all our winter coats and snow pants, and whatever random thing that doesn’t have a home. But my mother is coming in a few weeks to help with the kids when I start my next gig, so we need to make the room suitable for her.
There is something a little sad about boxing up the baby clothes to pass along to friends – the acknowledging that I’m done having babies (physically if not mentally) and that others get the joy of little baby cuddles. But I realized that just shoving the clothes in the attic was delaying the inevitable. So I sorted and packed and kept a few things in a bin I labelled “nostalgia” and then texted my friends with new babies to see if they needed clothes.
“Productive” was also going for two runs, even though the weather was in the low 30s. I had read somewhere that running makes the temperature feel ten degrees warmer, so with that in mind, I decided to brave the cold. I put on my wool and silk underwear and headed out. I’m still very very slow and running intervals rather than longer stretches, but it feels good to be moving and out in the air.
I passed this charming lone glove on my run – clearly a lost object that someone had placed on a branch in hopes that its owner would come looking for it. I love how it kind of poked out from behind the tree, waving at me while I ran past.
“Lazy” was hanging out watching football and basketball and eating popcorn for dinner and playing with our trucks and the Swedish climbing wall and deciding that the freezing rain was enough reason to let the ten year old skip swim clinic and just sit at home and watch football and eat the apple pie which the Husband made.
This latter was definitely not lazy on his part, but it was his first attempt at apple pie. Saturday would have been his father’s birthday, and he always made apple pie for the holidays. When we accidentally got a bag of granny smith apples in our grocery delivery, the Husband decided that he was going to honor his father by making an apple pie. It turned out really well! And whereas my apple pies always seem to come out with a soggy bottom, the Husband’s did not. I’m so proud of him!
Also maybe lazy was going on a winter walk. There had been snow forecast, but it turned out to be a mild dusting which quickly turned to icy slush and mud. Since we had spent the previous day hunkered inside, I decided we were going to go for a morning walk. I made the poor decision to wear my sneakers, along with the four year old, forgetting that there is some patches on our walk that has truly terrible drainage and then had to carry him over some large icy puddles. Note to self: just wear the boots.
And “Fun” was taking the ten year old to see West Side Story at the AFI Theatre. I love West Side Story. One summer, I was stage managing at an opera festival and my show was performed in rep with a production of West Side Story that was so so so good. Like I started crying from the moment Tony and Maria met in the gym because there was something so beautifully fatalistic yet full of life about that production. I don’t usually gush to directors, but at the opening night party, I cornered the director and gushed.
When I was in high school, or maybe college, I can’t remember, I somehow got my hands on a cassette tape of the original Broadway Cast Album of West Side Story. I can’t recall what I was doing at the time, or where I was going, but the commute was exactly the same length as the A side of the tape – from the brassy opening bars of the prologue to the romantic hopefulness of “One Hand, One Heart.” Every day, as I drove from home to work (or maybe school), I listened to Side A. I feel like there was something wrong with my tape deck that I couldn’t just flip the tape over, so I would just rewind the tape and listen to side A again. And it was kind of magical and perfect because twice a day in my car, Maria and Tony met, fell in love, and pledged their troth. I never moved on the the Rumble or its tragic outcome, or to Anita’s anger and Maria’s desperate love or the hopeless hopefulness of “Somewhere.” There was just this perfect little story of two kids from opposite sides falling in love.
So my love for West Side Story is longstanding and when I saw that the movie was finally being released, I knew I was going to have to see it somehow. (Somewhere…) I also thought it would be a great mother-daughter date since the ten year old loves musicals too. There’s that line in the book “Nothing to See Here” where the main character says something to the effect of parenting being showing kids what you love and hoping they love it too. This was absolutely that kind of excursion. (Spoiler alert: She loved “America” but though the Rumble too scary. “There’s a reason that this movie is PG 13!” she said, emphasis on the 13. )
Even pre-COVID I didn’t go to the movies much – maybe two or three times a year. During COVID – I think the ten year old went to a movie birthday party last summer where one of her classmates rented out the whole theatre, but that’s pretty much been it for movies in theatre. To be honest, I was a little on the fence about whether I thought this was going to be a good idea. I mean there’s the whole COVID and gathering in large groups thing, but also… the story doesn’t really have a happy ending. But I asked her if she would want to go and she said yes.
On the movie theatre’s website, patrons have to to reserve their seats when they buy tickets, so I could look at the seating chart and get an idea of how crowded the theater would be. It didn’t look like there were a lot of tickets being sold – and I had heard that the movie wasn’t doing that well at the box office. Given that the seating chart looked pretty empty and that they required proof of vaccination or a negative PCR test and masks in order to see a film, I figured that going to the movies was not the riskiest thing that we could do right now. But even still, I was somewhat relieved when the movie started and I looked around and counted maybe twelve people in the theatre. It’s so strange to have to do these kinds of risk calculations for something that used to be a typical casual date night activity, but I guess that’s life in COVID times.
The movie itself was wonderful. I though the new script by Tony Kushner brought some thoughtful backstory and details to the story. And I loved how gritty yet beautiful everything and everyone was. And the score, and hearing it played by a full orchestra. And the dancing… I love big dance numbers with choreography that tells a story as well as showcases how incredible the human body can be when it moves. And when many human bodies move together, it’s even more amazing. Every move was so deft and natural.
And there were definitely tears for me. I’ve always found “Somewhere” somewhat problematic in the stage show because while the song is beautiful, it kind of pulls the action away from the stage and story. But in the film, I thought they found such a moving solution for the song, one that had me in tears. I actually was in tears for a lot of the movie. Mostly during that “B” side of the tape that I never listened to all those years ago. Which is probably a good thing because driving while crying is tough.