That conversation again

We had that conversation again, my mother and I. She keeps dropping hints about us moving back down to Olympia and staying with them. I can't tell if it's just that these are relatively uncertain times, or she's lonely, or if she's really worried about ReDS. I mean, we're all worried. And I don't think being in a smaller town provides much relief from that anxiety. It's not like my hometown is an isolated wilderness. It just lacks what a city lacks: theatre, museums, ethiopian food . . .

This is where my mother points out that we no longer go to the theatre, to museums, etc. And she's right; we don't have much money for babysitters. But Chris got a long email from a friend yesterday about matters theatrical, one that I found sort of exciting in spite of myself. A lot of our circle of friends are actors, directors, or playwrights (or some mixed-bag of the three), and as the last seven or so years have gone by, we've seen more and more of them drop off the radar as far as the theatre scene goes. There's a lot to worry about right now, and blowing $120 at seattle rep to see a play doesn't seem to be high on anyone's priority list. There never was much acting work, but now? Chris is lucky if he gets a regional commercial once in a while, and spends the rest of his time doing odd jobs and taking care of James and Evan.

Anyway, his friend Brian finally got tired of theatre being "missing" from his life, and is starting a volunteer group to take shows to the refugee camps. Chris got pretty excited. I can remember day when working in filthy conditions for no pay would have been something he called the union about, but today I saw his eyes light up at the thought of being a creative performing artist again. We both got excited, honestly. Going into refugee camps with a production of Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? is probably the opposite of what my mother had in mind when she suggested we leave the city for the comparative saftey of a small town, but it sounds like something we can do to help.

(I'm kidding; we won't be doing Albee. I think.)

Final note: there was a letter pushed under our door over the weekend--from Veronica. It was beautifully written, a thank-you for having taken in her son, even just for an afternoon. I have an inkling that they haven't always encountered the best in the people they've run into on their journey to here, and it made me grateful I'd been able to be (for the most part) my best self during the Michael/James issue. She left an email address; sounds like she doesn't get to check very often, but I'm thinking of inviting her over for coffee. Jasmine might be able to wear some of the stuff Evan's outgrown, for one thing, and we really don't have space to keep old baby clothes around for no reason. Or maybe I'm just hungry to have coffee with a friend. Either way, I'm hoping she'll say yes.