Yesterday took the two younger girls to a Brownie Christmas party — lunch at La Hacienda and a production of Cinderella. It was geared toward the very young - very juvenile humor, but it wasn't unbearable. The girls seemed to like it. The ugly stepsisters were obnoxious and funny. One little girl, feeling brazen, asked the obviously in drag stepmother if she/he was a man; he/she replied, in mock horror, of course not! We were giggling about it, standing in line to get autographs signed, and another cast member said they'd actually had complaints from some parents; they were apparently upset that their children would suffer gender confusion.
Get serious. Stepsisters/stepmother in drag goes way back; it's funny. It's the theatre; it's called make believe. Besides, don't they know anything about Shakespeare?
Life in the ultra-conservative suburbs of Houston. Egads.
Thank goodness for the That Girl marathon on TV Land this weekend. My earliest feminist role model - and I still love Marlo Thomas. The girls are loving it, too, just as I thought they would. Dare I say it, but I love her more than Mary Tyler Moore. I know, I know, but it's true. Plus, the outfits she wore in those early seasons .... how she afforded those clothes and that apartment as a barely employed actress I'll never know, but hey, I can suspend reality. I'm coveting that pink dress from when she met Donald's parents, I really am.
And we set up the final Christmas tree, the reject tree from my in-laws, circa 1969. Doesn't look remotely real, but it brightens up the game room.
Holiday atmosphere is complete. Time for hot chocolate with peppermint schnapps.
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