So yesterday was a night off, but not such a night off, since I had to go see Katie in The Vagina Monologues.

I must say, it's not my favourite play, I find it a little tiresome--after awhile I start thinking, "If I hear the word "vagina" one more time..." and "Who are these women who can't find their clitorises?", but my kid's in a play, I have to see the play.

Besides, Merry directed it and Geany and Irma were in it, too, so there were lots of reasons to go see it!

So, after work I took the subway out to my old nabe, Park Slope.

I got there pretty early, so I had some time to wander around and go, "This is all wrong! Wrong wrong wrong!! What are are these cute little stores doing here?" Yeah, what were all those cute little stores doing there?

Fifth Avenue has basically turned into Seventh Avenue, all the little tchotchke shops, all the fancy places to eat, crazy. The bank is now a gym, though it's a gym with a bank theme, which I suppose meant that they had to do less remodeling, but I kind of like it.

A few places are still the same, like Aunt Suzey's, the Italian restaurant downstairs from my old apartment. The fancy ice cream joint is still there, though now I notice that it is an Internet cafe as well. But the bodega is closed and empty, as is the plumbers. La Cucina was replaced by some other restaurant. Rita is still there, the real estate office in the bottom of my building.

I spent a long time looking at my old building. I have not laid eyes on it since I left. I've been back to Park Slope maybe three times since moving seven and a half years ago, but never walked on my block, never looked at my apartment. I'm not sure why.

But this time, I looked. I looks the same, though the front door is different. Now it has a glass panel in it, which makes me assume that the neighbourhood is a little safer, and there are real doorbells with apartment numbers next to them. With only two apartments in the building, we never bothered to number them before.

I noticed that next to one of the buzzers, it said "Sanchez", so at least one thing never changes, Mrs. Sanchez is still there.

After that trip down memory lane, I went farther down 5th to the theatre, which was right by the Key Food. That area of the avenue looks just the same.

The show was a benefit for a battered woman's shelter in the area, so there were various concessions, like cupcakes on sale for $2. I had two, because they were cupcakes and who can pass up cupcakes? A stronger person than I, I suppose.

Before the show, there was music, first a solo woman on the piano named Ari Scott, whom I absolutely loved, then another woman with a man, both on guitars. She was half of The Bowmans, a twin act, whom I would have loved to see, considering how good she alone was. Bowmans, get a proper website, this just won't do!

Then the show itself started, and it was excellent. As I said before, I'm not entirely crazy about it, but this was a great version. Very fast, very high-energy, and great camaraderie amongst the ensemble.

And my girl was great. I was just so proud of her, she was so beautiful and confident and natural up there, and she's not really an actress, she mostly is a lighting designer and stage-manager, but she just did a great job.

There was one bit where three women told about horrible things that are done to women in other countries, and the other two actresses told their stories and I listened and thought that it was sad, but then Katie told hers, about the kidnapped women in Juarez, and I just burst into tears. She did it really simply, and it was very effective.

And I kept thinking about last year, about how lost she was, and how screwed up, and how different everything is this year. She's doing great in her honors classes, she just got a terrific score on her practice SAT, her friends aren't gang members, she gets along with her parents, it's amazing.

She's Katie again, she's home. And it's a miracle.

Today's horoscope:
And you thought everything would be all straightened out yesterday, huh? Well, don't feel bad. Everyone was hoping that would be the case. Sit tight and be patient. It's all you can really do.

One year ago today:
That's what happens in the terrorist line, they check to see if you cat is wired with plastic explosives. Fortunately, all that was on his belly was fluffy white belly fur, and I could put him in the carrier before he managed to wriggle away and scamper around the airport.

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Last Updated Thurs 21 April 15:10:09 2005