My guns aren’t his guns or hers

I’ve made reference before to issues I’ve had with a local organization and how they don’t like the Steens.

Basically, in a nutshell, for those of you just tuning in: our community theatre, for one reason or another, has effectively banned Josh and I from ever taking part again. Unless we grovel and beg or something.

And that ain’t happenin’.

Dan, though, is still pretty involved with that organization, they like him and stuff.
Which is great, I mean, good for him. And them. And whoever.

My misgivings have resurfaced lately with my kids’ desire to be involved.

It’s a mishmash of strange feelings I’m not really accustomed to…

When I was little, I very much wanted to be involved with the theatre. I even auditioned once, but I wasn’t cast. Consequently it took me years to muster up the courage to integrate myself. I don’t want that for my kids.

Now that they’re old enough to actually want to do things and be involved, I don’t really want to stand in the way.

But how to explain that? “Kids, the people there don’t like me or Josh so have fun, I’ll watch the DVD of the show.”

No. Think what you want, but I wouldn’t do that.

Which I guess means that I will go. Of course I’ll go. I’ll watch the show and Lucy will yell with glee (oooh, speaking of Glee, I am SO glad it’s back on. Seriously, enchanted.) and we will stride in and out amidst a huge cloud of weird.

But it’s worth it, right? I mean, no matter how many puckered glares I withstand, I’m totally not going to break. And if I’m honest…if I cared what anyone thought about me I probably wouldn’t say all this shit anyway.

And who am I kidding? These kids are awesome – I’d let anyone look sour at me if it made them happy. Because they won’t remember me going to a den of tightly drawn assholes who don’t like us…they’ll remember I saw their show. And that’s fine by me.

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