Catch up

Last week, my mom called to announced that there was a Camelot special on PBS. Of course I turned it on right away, and behold, there was Live from Lincoln Center: Camelot. I could not believe my bloomin' eyes. Marin Mazzie as Guinevere? LORD. Perfect. I've loved her since 1998, when she created the role of Mother in Ragtime (even though I never saw her in it, I feel like I have, you know?), and seeing her in Kiss Me, Kate was something I'll never forget. I thought she made a fine, fine Guinevere.

Anyway, I'd never seen the guy who played Lancelot before, but I understand he's an opera star and I was pleased to see that he had both comedic and dramatic chops as well as a great voice. Christopher Lloyd as Pellinore? Too good. I have no idea who Mordred was, but he was great. And Gabriel Byrne as Arthur was wonderful. Sure, he spoke through many of the songs, but that is what Arthur does, since it's not a singing part and it never has been. (Hello, Richard Burton.) And sometimes he rushed and didn't speak the words with the proper musical timing. But you know what? I didn't care. He made me cry so hard during the "Proposition" scene that B. could hear me from the next room even though I was sitting on the bed in the dark with the door closed. It was wonderful, wonderful, wonderful to see this show that I have loved so much my whole life reinvented in this wonderful way.

Of course I called my parents crying during the show to tell them it was the best thing I'd ever seen, and a few nights later, while B. and I were over at my parents' house visiting my sister who was in town, my dad busted out his Camelot script from his college production (he played Arthur) and performed the "Proposition" scene for us, stopping to explain how the notes from "I Wonder What the King is Doing Tonight" play in the background and so forth, and it was a beautiful, beautiful thing.

On Saturday, I was running around buying gifts, and I stopped at the Catholic bookstore to buy my dad a gift certificate and next-door I spotted a Mexican bakery. At least it looked like a Mexican bakery. Seeing as I don't speak Spanish, I wasn't sure. But I was so hungry that I ran and not walked inside. I was not really sure what to do, procedurally. This was definitely a Mexican-Mexican bakery and not an American-Mexican bakery. Should I order at the counter even though I could not translate any of the menu items on the wall? Should I stand at the large rack of unlabeled baked goods and inspect them carefully until someone came over to take my order? I did the latter, and the friendly counter guy asked me what I would like. I pointed to a big pastry and said, "I'd like one, please." He said, "It's chicken!" Because I think he thought I thought it was dessert. I said, "Great!" He told me, "Americans always taste that one and come back for more." $2.65 later, I walked outside, got into my car, and tore into that motherfucker. It was so good I moaned. I ate the whole thing with my hands, while driving. And it wasn't small. I took my sister back the next morning, thinking she might want to speak some Spanish. She explained that if she were in Mexico, sure, but that the general consensus among bilingual types and those trying to be so is that as Mexicans operating a restaurant here, they might not want to be used for us to practice Spanish on, but rather might want to use us to practice English on. Which made sense, I think. So they spoke a little Spanish and a little English and all was merry and gay. We loaded up on stuff and it is now my favorite food establishment. They've only been open a month; I hope they're a wild success.

Spending some time with my sister when she was here was nice. We went shoe shopping, which is not either of our things, but we survived. Mother's Day was good. We also celebrated my dad's birthday, and my mom cooked an awesome meal of crawfish etouffee, broccoli casserole, and of course ice cream dessert. It was nice to have the whole family together, plus fiery B. I forced everyone to jump in the air for pictures because I read that it's a good way to spice up a group photo. I feel everyone was slightly annoyed, but these pictures will make me laugh forever.

My mom, sister, and I watched P.S. I Love You, and I'm not sure I have the words to aptly capture how much we hated this movie. Just when we thought it couldn't get any stupider or more unrealistic, it would. IT WAS BAD. I am still kind of in shock that it ever got made. I think we started hating it immediately when Hilary Swank's character complained about how small their apartment was and it was a big, lovely NY walk-up that was bigger than any apartment my NY friend ever lived in. I also hated: her fancy up-do for her husband's funeral [not really a spoiler; his death is basically the premise of the whole movie] and the way she went to bed after it in the most uncomfortable type of bra possible (corset) and sexy black panties. Who dresses like that for her husband's funeral? I hated ... everything about it. EVERYTHING. Except for the beauty of the Irish countryside. That was the only good thing about it. What a slog of a movie ... the worst I've seen in years. Possibly in my whole life.

Don't know what else to say. So ... pictures.

Superhero

I've been reading Andrea's journal for a while now. I think I first discovered her site via link on Jessamyn's site. I don't know when I started reading, exactly, but her words and photographs have moved and inspired me from afar from a long time. Learning that she worked for Sark (with whom I was utterly obsessed in my late teens and early twenties, whose cards and books I bought and clung to like she was speaking to me) and is friends with the likes of the Weepies (whom I love so very much) just made me feel more awed by her.

I've also admired her necklaces for a long time, but I've never purchased one until recently. Though I love the look of the beaded necklaces on her models, I wasn't sure I had the style to pull one off.

When Andrea introduced the bullseye pendant recently, I knew I needed to have it. This was the necklace for me. So I ordered one.

My necklace arrived yesterday, and it's now hanging around my neck. And it felt so good to give myself this little gift, not only because it's a very cute and functional piece of jewelry that I can wear every day with basically any outfit, but because I feel like it has a special meaning. The word "superhero," engraved on the back of the necklace, thumps right along with my heartbeat, reminding me that I am strong and brave. It feels nice. Couldn't we all stand to feel a little more Super and a little more Heroic? I think so.

Weekend Update

It was a jam-packed weekend to be sure. On Friday evening, B. and I headed out to celebrate the end of his finals with some of his school friends. We ate pizza and drank beer. Then we went to a foul, piss-smelling bar where he played pool and merriment was made. I headed home early while he deservingly partied the night away.

The next morning, I ... am drawing a blank. Oh yeah. I went to World Market to buy some bamboo shades for my back living room windows. I have some cute but flimsy white curtains in there, and now that every last tree that provided shade to the back of my house has been felled either by Katrina or a chainsaw, it gets full afternoon sun and causes my house to bake like an oven every single afternoon. I'm not sure how I feel about the shades, and I broke one of my dad's drill bits by trying to drill a hole in the window frame with the drill set in the wrong direction, but B. saved the day and now they're hanging sturdily and darkly. This does not solve the problem of the curtains I have hanging over my sliding glass door which, despite being think and sturdy and nice khaki Pottery Barn curtains, do zilch to block out the slammin' rays of the sun. But it's a start.

Then I went to class, where I had to walk out angrily and lie on a bench in the quad in the sun for a few minutes and talk to S. on the phone because I was so annoyed that people were going over the set 7-minute time limit for our presentations, like way over, like doubling that time and beyond, and it meant we would likely have to meet the following weekend. And I did not understand why this professor whom I like very much was not just shutting them the heck down. What is wrong with these people? I do not know. But because the last remaining people (myself included) speed-talked through ours, not bothering to fire up our powerpoints, we got done in time. So much for all that time spent on the powerpoint for nothing. I really need to relate, relax, and release over this and unclench. And I have. There. Done! Overall, I loved the class because I got to read and talk about YA literature which is one of my favorite things in life to do.

That evening, we ... I don't know why I am drawing such ferocious blanks on the whole weekend. What in God's name did we do? Oh yeah. We went to a crawfish boil with some of his school friends.

Then we went to a party with some of my school friends. It was great to see some people again I haven't seen all semester and lovely of my classmate to host it. Hi, classmate, if you're reading. I want that tomatilla salsa recipe.

We got up on Sunday morning and prepared to head out to Jazz Fest for our fourth year in a row, which is kind of mindboggling. I enjoyed snapping some photos on our walk through the neighborhood on our way in.

The thing about Jazz Fest is that it's really awesome but it's usually really hot. It's dirty, a lot of the people are annoying, and for every annoying person, there are dirty feet in flip flops. And yesterday all of those thousands and thousands of dirty feet surrounding me at every turn got to me. That and the heat. Other than that, I was glad to be there. The Raconteurs were great, even though I know none of their music. But Jack White is a real rock star and it was cool to be in his presence. Then we saw the Neville Brothers play together in New Orleans for the first time since Katrina, which was awesome. The announcer who introduced them talked about how the people of New Orleans are a family and how this was a big family reunion, and the people around us screamed and held their Miller Lite cans proudly up in the air in salute. Then we took our dirty, sweaty selves out of there. Before the Fest, we ate a very yummy lunch of salads and spicy tomato paste on pita triangles at Fellini's, where we hadn't been in ages, and that was lovely. B. and I sure have had some good meals together.

Speaking of meals, I stopped on the way home from work today to pick up some Thai food over which to enjoy last week's Battlestar Galactica. Unfortunately, the bag broke just as I exited the car in my driveway, and my food splattered on the concrete. Needless to say that is not where I wanted my food to end up. But I guess there's no sense crying over spilled cashew chicken. B. shared his red curry with me instead, and we just finished the episode. All I have to say is that this show just keeps getting weirder and weirder, and I love it.

Life is tiring sometimes, but I'm glad to be alive.