I think my parents knew to start stockpiling money when they attended their twelfth popsicle-stick-puppet play written, produced, and performed by their eight-year-old daughter ... they were soon going to have a starving artist on their hands. 

 

I don't think they were too surprised when I packed my high school schedule with choir, marching band, jazz band, a cappella, play, and musical rehearsals.

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It also follows that my graduating from Temple University with a degree in musical theatre and acting would not have been too shocking.

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I do think my being able to make a living from the skills I discovered at age eight is a source of mild, delighted confusion for all of us.

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But what I think does consistently flummox my parents is the unforeseeably profound impact a popsicle run to Giant would have on all our lives.