I was dying to join the Listen To Your Mother (“LTYM”) cast in Chicago. I watched the announcements and sent in my piece after vetting it through my husband and close writer friends. When I got an audition, I jumped for joy and ate some extra pudding. Honestly, it was a thrill to show up and read my piece for the producers.
When I wasn’t selected for the cast, they sent me a very nice rejection email that encouraged me to try again next year. I certainly plan to do that. I had a little cry of disappointment, bought some new nail polish, and soldiered forth.
Then, May hit and half of my Facebook feed was LTYM updates EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. I could see from the pictures and the posts that those women were doing some serious bonding. Actually, it looked like healing, rejoicing and exalting.
Man, I was getting a vicarious hit off it. As I read the “wrap up” posts from Sellabit Mum and Erin Margolin and over at Zebra Garden, I realized that I now have a bucket list. My bucket list has one item on it: join a LTYM cast. I am so grateful for the inspiration from the women who are posting about it. You’ve got coattails and I’ve got talons, so I’m gonna affix myself to your coattails and ride them all the way to the microphone. Some day.
In the meantime, I edited (heavily) my piece and sent it out into the world. Next year, I’ll have to bring something new to the table– something fresher, deeper, funnier, wiser. Hell, I don’t know because if I did, I woulda brought it this year and this post would be about the amazing time I had being in LTYM.
In any case, my post was about celebrating my daughter’s (and my own) rage. The kind folks over at the Huffington Post gave it some wings, so click here if you care to read it. (Also, I am sure tons of nasty commenters will skewer me, so that might be a fun read.)