So our nomadic life isn’t really that nomadic, we’re spending our weekdays at my husband’s grandmother’s home in the suburbs. We’re there with his grandma, 92-year-old Gwen, and his mom and dad who are also in the midst of a major home renovation. Three generations and one dog, under the same roof. For a while I was thinking of it like a tragedy, but when I decided to upgrade my language, I knew I had to put this saga of our lives in a different genre.
Enter: The sitcom. Since Gwen returned to her home after the summer away, people have joked that our commune-like situation sounds like the Brady Bunch (to which I smile and wonder, “Have they ever seen the Brady Bunch?”). Others compare it to Modern Family (again, not quite on the mark). But I get their point: We’re living in a sitcom of our own making.
So I’m going to try to catalogue some of the best anecdotes and keep them as fodder for my future life as a screenwriter. I’ve been trying to think of a title, because I always worry about titles first. Which is one of the many excuses I gave for not starting a blog in the past. Initially I was thinking of morning shows and was hoping I’d glean some wisdom from the nonagenarian. This optimistic line of thinking led me to think of “Good Mornings with Gwen” a la Tuesdays with Morrie. I’ve lowered my expectations of learning life lessons and determined our show will be more like the Kardashians, minus the fabulous wealth, makeup, and sex.
With this pivot in mind, and thanks to my best friend and built-in reality television expert Robbie, we’ve settled on the working title, “Living in Gwendom.” It’s Gwen’s house, we’re just living in it.
Stay tuned for segment ideas and anecdotes. So far I’m focusing on the opening sequence, which includes me and Cappie walking downstairs at o-dark-thirty to let Cappie outside. I’m in a silky kimono-style robe that I picked up on the street in San Francisco’s Chinatown for five dollars. The material reflects the bargain price. The tie has gone MIA in the move, so I’m gripping it shut with one hand and wiping my slightly hungover eyes with the other. Cappie bursts through the kitchen door and… Good morning, Gwen!
There sits Gwen, waiting for her toast to toast, bundled up in her robe. Her robe is different in every imaginable way. It’s fleece. It’s fluffy. It’s a subtle grey-and-white leopard print. It most definitely still ties.
My first instinct, of course, was to cry. The injustice of my life! I can’t even walk downstairs before dawn without having to make nice with one of Matt’s family members! Sitcom Alicia though? She doesn’t burst into tears of rage over all of life’s little cruelties. She smiles and asks, “Should we take a selfie?”
Recovering journalist who discovered a life outside of news leaves you time for things like getting angry, cooking and traveling. Plus, hopefully, writing. I’m a wife, dog mom and Washingtonian.