The Boy and I recently ventured up to his homeland in North Dakota for a funeral. I think a lot of the people there believe our life and lifestyle are foreign and strange. But I'm here to tell you that there are actually a lot of similarities.
First of all, there are chickens. Well, roosters anyway. In a garden park in the East Village, two roosters are happily living their life, albeit crowing in the middle of the afternoon. Word is still out on whether they are a couple.
There are also horses. In Central Park. Just like the farm.
Then of course there is countrified food - chicken fried steak at Blue Smoke, grits at Hundred Acres. But the real magic is happening in my own kitchen. Biscuits. Cinnamon Rolls. And bread. Not to mention the pickled eggs, a tasty snack any time of the day.
So, yes, there's Broadway and the Statue of Liberty and lots of people and all that. But really New York isn't all that different. Investment bankers count as animals don't they?
Last week The Boy and I headed down to Union Square to run some errands and kept noticing something odd, even by New York standards. We saw several people walking down the street with pillows. The Boy reckoned there was some type of school bus trip meeting nearby. I thought maybe there had been an all night rave (I don't know why I thought it would have been appropriate to bring pillows to a rave, but hey, i'm old and out of touch, so what do I know.)
Anyway, we were both wrong. It was actually the celebration of World Pillow Fight Day. Eventually, The Boy and I ran right smack into the fight which was feather dusted pandemonium.
One of the great things about living in Manhattan is access to all the city provides - the restaurants, the nightlife, the theater. And theater generally means Broadway.
When we lived in Texas, we would catch a touring show from time to time, but it wasn't a frequent event. In fact, I'm lucky The Boy ever agreed to attend a show with me again after the great Hairspray fiasco of 2005. We had bought tickets to the touring show, along with about a dozen of my female relatives. At the last moment, I had to go out of town for work and couldn't attend. The poor Boy was left to chauffeur a gaggle of high-cheekboned women around downtown Houston. Since then, he's never really loved musicals.
This month we tested his affinity for plays, seeing three Broadway plays and one off-Broadway play during the month.
We began with A Behanding in Spokane, chosen for the good reviews and Christopher Walken in the starring role. We had front-row seats and were mesmerized by his creepy cool performance. However, the play was inexplicably racial. The slurs and bigotry, which didn't seem to be necessary for the story, really turned me off.
I was ready for a little racial provocation the next week at the performance of Race.
The David Mamet play stars James Spader, the prick hottie Steff from Pretty in Pink but now one of the quirky lawyers in Boston Legal, Kerry Washington, David Alan Grier and Richard Thomas, of Walton's fame.
The reviews of the play have been mixed, and so is my own take on it. I found the play itself interesting, as it explores preconceptions and everyone's own built in racial biases. But I thought the performances were flat and leaden across the board. Pity.
On the other other hand, God of Carnage, about parents whose young boys have had a school yard fight and who devolve from idealized adults to immature barbarians over the course of the play, was pretty fun to watch.
The story, dialogue and characters were sharp and hilarious. The Boy
laughed out loud several times, always a good sign.
Finally, we had the good fortune to have a Broadway and TV actor living
in our building. He is currently starring in an off-Broadway play called