What's On My iPod And Questionable Fashion Choices

To say that I like the musical Les Miserables would be kind of like saying I own a few pairs of Spanx and drink the occasional glass of red wine. In other words – it would be a gross, gross understatement

I saw Les Miserables twice as a kid – once in Birmingham and once at the Fox in Atlanta. My mother listened to the soundtrack non-stop for about four years. (Yes, I am often prone to exaggeration. When I talk about my mother’s listening habits, it is not one of those times.)

I can’t even tell you how often I wore the classic gray t-shirt with the Les Mis orphan on it.

(I also had a Cats shirt that I liked to wear with white Bermuda shorts, but it was old news the moment my Les Mis tee came on the scene.)

I liked to perform most of the score of Les Miserables for my nanny – my favorites being "On My Own" and "A Little Drop Of Rain." Dream role? Clearly Eponine.  Oddly enough, my nanny often encouraged me to sing from the porch while she watched her TV shows inside.

“I can still hear you,” she would call from the sofa, even though I often had to remind her when to clap at the end of my numbers.

Now knowing that I’m tone deaf, I bet that two-room distance was not nearly enough, and I feel very loved for not being cut off from my musical re-enactments entirely.

My sister texts me “24601” from time to time just for fun (as well as random Suzanne Sugarbaker quotes, but that’s another story for another day).

So last night, when I got to see Les Miserables on the stage yet again, it was amazing. I laughed. I cried. I stood clapping for an extended period of time like there could be an encore for a play even though that obviously defies all logic, and the cast of Les Mis certainly isn’t Def Leppard.

And for whatever it’s worth, in the bits of theology and wisdom I’ve cobbled together for myself over the last 30 odd years, “To love another person is to see the face of God” still has a spot near the top of the list.

Also, if you think this is bad, just wait for when Wicked gets here in February. I’ve got all sorts of feminist, self-empowerment, “good girl” theories to go along with that one.

Consider yourself warned.