Saint Pete Beach and grouper sandwiches at Philthy Phil’s today with Bruce. I have a red square burned into the center of my back, where my hands couldn’t reach to apply sunscreen. Not feeling at all proud to be American these days, a red square seems to fit. Tonight I went out with my nieces, Megan and Aimee, with sister Sue, and Brucey, to see the senior projects of the local Arts Center High School students. The high school is a magnet school with an emphasis on the performing arts. Tonight’s productions included excerpts from Seussical, featuring a humpy little Horton, a Thai version of Margaret Cho (Megan’s friend), a real female Hedwig and her Angry Inch, an utterly astounding version of The Producers, which I still can’t believe was put on by teenagers, and a sad, if not heartfelt version of Cabaret (the actress portraying Sally Bowles channeled aloofness and joie de vivre into weariness).
On the way to the theater in Clearwater, we listened to Megan’s compilation of Disney tunes. When a base-thumping low-rider pulled up next to us at the stop light, and with Bippity Boppity Boo cranked up and all of us singing along, Sue remarked to Bruce, “This is what you get when you don’t have problem children.”