Birth of a Commentatrix.

The word “commentator” has always sounded wrong to me. Surely there is no such verb as “commentate?” It sounds as though you meant to say “comment” and got confused. I would think a person who offers commentary ought more properly to be called a “commentarian,” but everyone else has agreed on “commentator,” and I confess that after hearing myself referred to yesterday as COMMENTATOR ALEXA STEVENSON, it is beginning to grow on me. In fact, that is how I would like to be addressed from now on, even in casual conversation. “Could you sign for a package, COMMENTATOR ALEXA STEVENSON?” See? It’s fancy!

If you didn’t hear my piece yesterday, you can listen to it here. That is where I listened to it, because the Minnesota public radio station saw fit to cut away before my commentary for a local story, perhaps not realizing that I was a local story myself. They missed their chance for a nice “local girl makes mediocre” moment. I guess covering a “flood” is more “important,” because it’s a “national disaster” that threatens “lives.”

Anyhow, I promised to come back yesterday and tell you how my NPR debut (I am using the word “debut” in hopes of tricking them into having me on again) came about, but last night Simone had a bedtime meltdown while I was on a conference call. She managed to hang up on my conferencees with her flailing—and I am sure that when combined with the shrill infant screams, this made me look very professional—refusing to settle until I was lying down, holding her in the crook of my arm. Thus I was in bed at 7:30 and never got a chance to post, and now some similar sort of thing seems to be happening, where Simone will only scream and scream when we try to put her to sleep, and I have been pecking this paragraph out with one hand for an hour now while I rock and pat and sing and the baby makes a noise like a scalded ape. I have the sense that any minute I am going to end up in bed with her out of desperation, meaning that you will have to wait another day for my tale of triumph.

I think it goes without saying that I am happy. And still slightly disbelieving. And immensely thankful for the lovely producer who gave me this—neither “chance” nor “opportunity” seem quite right; I think “gift” is nearer the mark.

Tomorrow I get my wisdom teeth removed, and a root canal, and my in-laws arrive for the weekend, so when I return to take you INSIDE the hallowed halls of public radio, I hope to be wrapped in a silken cocoon of strong narcotics. Until then, this is COMMENTATOR ALEXA STEVENSON wishing you good night, and whatever.