We finally got to see Hamilton, and it was a great night.  It’s a fantastic, well-written play, and we got to see it in DC, just a few blocks away from the Treasury they’re singing about.  I mean, we’re in the capital, and they’re singing about establishing the capital.  So that part was magical.  Plus, my sister-in-law had a baby shower the day before next to Yorktown, so, really, literally traveled Hamilton’s route (except that we stopped in DC instead of continuing to NY).

It was a wonderful cast, and the costumes and dancing were impressive.  I cried like my heart was breaking in half when Philip died.  Our seats were great; everyone around us was happy.  Overall, an exceptional theater experience.

But you already knew all of that because everyone says that.  Because it’s true.

A while back, we had an opportunity to see it in New York with the original cast, but the tickets were going to be around $500 per person.  PER PERSON.  The kids wanted to see it, and we wanted them to see it, but I couldn’t wrap my brain around the idea of paying that kind of money to see a play.  So as we were watching the play this week, I asked myself how would I have felt if I had purchased $2000 worth of tickets to see a performance of this play.  And the answer is that I would have felt sick about it.  Was it good?  Sure.  But it wasn’t $2000 good.

It wasn’t even $900 good, which was the cost of other seats in the theater.  We got $99 seats, thanks to our friends who gave us their tickets at cost.  $99 is still A LOT for an evening of entertainment, but it wasn’t appreciably different from the $65 – $80 I paid for Broadway tickets 15 years ago.  So $65 seats inflated to $99 seats, and $80 tickets more than doubled to $225.

And people will pay it.  Every single seat in the theater was taken, and the seats sold out within minutes.

Hamilton was an incredible opportunity to hook the next generation of theater-goers, and I’m sure that it grabbed some kids along the way; maybe ones that lucked out and got the lottery seats plus a few who paid full price.

But the vast majority of those people won’t see another play this year.  They may not see another play ever.

It is expensive to create a show,* but when it costs $2471.50 to experience art (It’s $2471.50 for a family of four to see The Cursed Child** on Broadway or $879.50 if you purchase seats in the back of the theater), you have to ask who is the show for?  The elite?  The people willing to carry credit card debt in exchange for a night of entertainment?

The lottery seats in the front row are a nice Band-aid to a much bigger problem.  I can wrap my brain around the concept of a queue and needing to wait three years to get my turn to see a show.  There are only so many seats in a theater.  But the cost?  The New York production of Hamilton is making over $600,000 in profit per week (it’s grossing $1.9 million per week).  It’s keeping $31.2 million per year after paying its actors and crew.  Doesn’t that feel… off?  Especially when you think about how much the traveling shows are making, too?

As we were walking out of the theater, I thought about all the people who wrote on the walls at Elephant House that JK Rowling made them fall in love with reading.  Her books created the next generation of readers.  Would that have been the case if she had seen the popularity of her books and tripled the price just because people would pay?  Granted, you can borrow a book from the library but you can’t borrow a theater seat.  But you know what I mean.  Would we still feel good about buying Harry Potter if after book three when the public frenzy was cemented, she raised the cost to $60 per book?  If she split the last book into two books, making you pay $120 to read the end of the story?

Lin-Manuel Miranda created a great play.  And he deserves big bucks for that hard work.  Most shows are not Hamilton, and you need the Hamiltons of this world to pay for the smaller shows that don’t turn a profit.  Though I’m not sure that $31.2 million is trickling down to any of those struggling shows.

But those numbers above give me pause.  I hate the idea that people will be one-and-done with theater after they’ve ticked off going to Hamilton.  I want the show to be a door that people walk through into a world of going to theater all the time.  But how can they do that when the cost of going is that high?

* Believe me, I know the general costs of putting on a show.  My husband and many of our friends work in theater.  I have gotten to sit through many a budget discussion.

** There are so many shows priced like Hamilton now.  The Cursed Child requires you to purchase two tickets to see the whole play. The least expensive option is $190 per person and the prices goes up to $588 per person for good seats. There’s a $29 service fee for each ticket and a $3.50 processing fee, bringing the total to $2471.50 for a family of four.

This is a tale of an amazing blood draw.  The ChickieNob needed to have blood drawn, and she was nervous.  She sat down in the chair and gave her arm.  The phlebotomist felt around for a bit, and finally admitted that she didn’t feel confident and wanted a second opinion.

Another phlebotomist came over, and she felt around, trying a heating pad to coax out her veins.  After a minute or two, she also asked if she could involve another phlebotomist.

A third woman came over and found a good vein.  She was about to use a larger needle when I commented that a butterfly would work better.  Without missing a beat, she popped off the longer needle, snapped on the butterfly, and slid in the needle.  The actual taking of the blood took about 30 painless seconds.  The ChickieNob was so relieved.  I love collaboration and the fact that each woman drew in knowledge from another woman in order to deliver the best experience to the patient.  Imagine if all people operated in that manner, with the focus being on the goal instead of on ego…

Now if only I could have releasing the test results go as smoothly.  That, unfortunately, is always a case of knocking my head against the wall for a week.

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Stop procrastinating.  Go make your backups.  Don’t have regrets.

Seriously.  Stop what you’re doing for a moment.  It will take you fifteen minutes, tops.  But you will have peace of mind for days and days.  It’s the gift to yourself that keeps on giving.

As always, add any new thoughts to the Friday Backup post and peruse new comments in order to find out about methods, plug-ins, and devices that help you quickly back up your data and accounts.

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And now the blogs…

But first, second helpings of the posts that appeared in the open comment thread last week.  In order to read the description before clicking over, please return to the open thread:

• “Surviving Failure, Redefining Success” (My Path to Mommyhood)

Okay, now my choices this week.

My Perfect Breakdown has a post about an exchange that came about because she’s open about how hard it was to build their family.  She talks about the importance of continuing to be an advocate: “Once you’ve been through struggles to have children, the impacts last forever. And, I cannot not just pretend it never happened, even if I wanted to. Instead, I must continue to raise a voice.”  It’s a great reminder of connections that can be made when you tell your story.

HopefullyMyLinesNow has a post about tempering her excitement now that she’s pregnant.  She outlines what she’s doing with a series of great scenarios.  It is seriously the most helpful read to pass along to anyone who tells you that you should be out celebrating when you’re feeling a little raw and cautious.  She’s happy and hopeful, but she also knows that she needs to do what she needs to do to protect her heart.

Lastly, Empty Arms, Broken Heart has a bittersweet exchange with her daughter.  It’s about sitting with someone else’s wish, and how it affects your own heart.  To say any more than that would ruin the emotional impact of this post, so click over to read it.

The roundup to the Roundup: This is what collaboration looks like.  Your weekly backup nudge.  And lots of great posts to read.  So what did you find this week?  Please use a permalink to the blog post (written between August 17th and 24th) and not the blog’s main url. Not understanding why I’m asking you what you found this week?  Read the original open thread post here.

We are horrible at predicting how another person thinks or feels.

That’s science.

No, I mean, that’s actually science.  Israeli and American scientists conducted 25 experiments to see how well we could walk a mile in another person’s shoes, and it turns out that we suck, hardcore.  We’re not really imagining the world as that person experiences the world.  We’re imagining how WE would experience the world if we were that person.

We’re not even good at this when we’re married to the person:

The researchers wanted to see if people who had some meaningful information about each other—like spouses—could make accurate judgments about the other’s reactions to jokes, opinions, videos, and more. It turned out that neither spouses nor strangers nor friends tended to make accurate judgments when “taking another’s perspective.”

It turns out that the number one way to understand another person is not to imagine their life but to ask them their thoughts or feelings.  You need to hear their words to understand.

The final experiment confirmed that getting another person’s perspective directly, through conversation, increased the accuracy of subjects’ predictions, while simply “taking” another’s perspective did not. This was true for partners, friends, and strangers alike.

Luckily, people volunteer their perspective all the time on blog posts.  And if you do have a question, there is always the comment section or an email.

Of course, what this also means is that you can’t use a single experience to stand in place for everyone else’s experience.  I can’t read one parenting blog and understand all parents or read one blog from someone living in New York and think that I know all New Yorkers.  One person can’t stand in place for the whole.  But they’re a door into a world, and if you listen hard enough, you don’t have to assume.  You just need to keep practicing “perspective getting.”

Maybe that is the definitive answer to yesterday’s post: “In order to understand what your spouse prefers—don’t try to guess, ask.”  Maybe that should be the case all around.

I recently read a piece on how we don’t ask enough questions.

Having the ability to ask a question appears to be a uniquely human trait, one that saves us time and energy as we gather resources and information. It also allows us to develop empathy for others and create bonds of trust, even among strangers. Indeed, people who ask more questions are seen as more likable.

It goes on to talk about the best way to ask questions and the best types of questions for various situations.

BUT…

…that infertility lens.

All I could think about were posts I’ve read lately where the person was upset to be asked whether they have children.  The question sucks, especially when you’ve been asked it a dozen times, but the alternative sort of sucks, too: people not being curious about other people.

Asking questions is one way to draw closer to a person.  I just had a conversation with a person where I asked question after question after question… and the person asked zero questions back.  I walked away knowing a great deal about what was happening in their world, and they walked away knowing nothing about what was going on in mine.  A missed opportunity?

How can anyone know what sort of questions I want to answer until they start asking them?

I’ve realized that questions don’t bother me as much as statements.  Questions, I figure, are conversation starters.  They’re trying to find a way in, and I’m happy that they’re trying, so I’ll put up with the clumsy ones.  But statements — telling me how I feel — those are the ones that get under my skin.  “Twins,” someone remarked recently.  “You must have felt so relieved to be done in one shot.”

“No,” I said back.  “There was going to be a third, but we weren’t successful.”

A question leaves open possibilities.  A statement feels like a closed door.

I don’t know.  I’ve been thinking about this since reading the article about questions; about whether questions help more or hurt more.  About whether we’d really be happy if we were never asked prying questions.  If I inadvertently ask prying questions.

No good answers; just a lot of food for thought.

Not sure what #MicroblogMondays is? Read the inaugural post which explains the idea and how you can participate too.

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I finished the first book in the Crazy Rich Asians trilogy, and then put myself down on the waiting list for the second book at the library.  This was a huge mistake.  There are dozens of people ahead of me, and zero chance that I’ll remember how everyone connects by the time it’s my turn at the library.  I should have gotten on the wait list the moment I got the first book.

You live and you learn.  And then you visit the bookstore and buy.

I usually don’t read series straight through.  I’ll read one book, then I’ll read something else.  Then I’ll return and read the next book, and then maybe read two more books after that before I dive into the third one.  I can’t think of any series that I’ve sat down and read start to finish without anything else in between — at least, not on the first read through.  On subsequent read throughs, I tend to go back-to-back.

Do you read a series in one go if they’re all out*, or do you skip around and keep revisiting the series with breaks in between?

* Clearly, if the books aren’t released yet, you can’t read them in one go.

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Are you also doing #MicroblogMondays? Add your link below. The list will be open until Tuesday morning. Link to the post itself, not your blog URL. (Don’t know what that means? Please read the three rules on this post to understand the difference between a permalink to a post and a blog’s main URL.) Only personal blogs can be added to the list. I will remove any posts that are connected to businesses or are sponsored post.