Avetts at Jazz Fest

Clearly I was thrilled to learn a few months back that my beloved Avett Brothers would be at Jazz Fest. My brother scored tickets and tent passes from a friend, so we headed to the city after lunch on Sunday, squeezed into a parking spot on a side street, and waltzed on into the Fair Grounds on a beautiful and sunny day. The tent was really swell -- couches, beers, big screen TVs, speakers, and best of all, misting machines. We parked ourselves on bar stools at tables and enjoyed Blue Moons with orange slices and felt like we were living the life. As the mist spewed forth upon us, I wondered aloud, "Do you think the chemicals making the mist cold are getting into our beer and poisoning us?" He pondered this for a moment and then sighed contentedly, "It's worth it."

Soon it was time to head over to their stage. There was already a pretty big crowd there, but we were able to get pretty close. What can I say? I love this band. They started with "Shame," one of my favorites (you have to scroll about 2 minutes into that video for the song to get started), and they played lots of songs I knew and several I didn't, my favorite of which by a mile was "Salvation Song." (Link is here. Be sure to click "HD" if you can on any videos I've linked.)

Something I love about the Avett Brothers is that they are, I've decided, fundamentally optimistic. Their songs are openly emotional and honest and not afraid to be boldly and proudly emotional and about family and about making the world a better place. That might sound super cheesetastic, but it doesn't come across that way. It's not that their songs don't also have darkness and sadness because sometimes they do. But sometimes they are so nakedly hopeful and romantic and I can't help but believe that they mean every word.

We came for salvation
We came for family
We came for all that's good, that's how we'll walk away
We came to break the bad
We came to cheer the sad
We came to leave behind the world a better way

I am not conveying this well. I just think that there's a time for music that makes you feel dark and twisty, as Meredith Grey might say, and there's time for music that lifts you up and makes you want to shout and sing and feel brave and happy.

I waited in a long line at the merchandise tent following the show so they could sign my CD and I could shake their hands. I have always regretted not waiting in line to meet Anne Lamott. So I decided what the hell. I moved across the table really quickly and they scribbled initials or signatures or whatever on the CD, and I thanked them for coming and told them that their music means a lot to me. I wasn't sure what else to say. They were nice.

And I took a lot of pictures. And I said this over at Flickr and want to say it here. These were not taken with a great camera or with great skill, but they were taken with great affection and joy.

If I had to pick one song as my favorite of theirs, and it would be difficult if not impossible, I think "Murder in the City" would be it. (Here's an excellent video of the song at the fest. Click "HD" and let her load.) When the opening chords started, I turned around searched the faces in the crowd for my brother's ... he'd ended up a little ways behind me in the crowd. We waved and nodded and smiled.

It was a wonderful day.

Great night at the theater

Just in case you don't know, which you probably do, but just in case, because some of the people I've asked to go with me stared at me blankly, which is cool, not everyone is down with NPR, "This American Life" is a show on public radio hosted by Ira Glass. It features stories each week on a certain theme. They range from funny to weird to sad to inspirational. The stories and the contributers basically run the gamut from awesome to awesomer. (Ira Glass = awesomest.)

The show decided to do something unusual by airing a 90-minute show LIVE in movie theaters across the nation last week. (Normally it's just a radio show, though it has recently done a TV version on Showtime that's really good.) Because many theaters sold out, they are re-showing it as an encore on Thursday, May 7.

Part of the coolness was just watching a radio show be done on the big screen and how Ira Glass works the little buttons on a table in front of him on a stage to turn on music, recordings, etc. I thought that was really neat. In addition to the wonderful Ira Glass as host, it features essay readings by several other people that were all really good -- funny, silly, and sad. One man read an essay about a car wreck he was in with a drunk driver and how it affected his views on marriage. One woman did an essay about going to an intense therapy program to deal with her childhood issues (accompanied by illustrations on post-it notes that were really funny). There was a report told cartoon style about a town in Florida where thieves have to march in front of stores holding giant signs saying "I stole from this store" (this is a real law there). This cartoon was by Chris Ware (Jimmy Corrigan), so that excited me. All of these were funny and very good. They also showed a clip of one of their TV episodes where they follow 7 people named John Smith, from a newborn to an old man, that was only 4 minutes long and made me cry. There was even a segment on Dr. Horrible, which of course thrilled me.

There is one essay in particular read by Dan Savage, who as you probably know has long authored a national sex advice column. He and his partner have been together 14 years and adopted a son who is now 11 and he has also written a lot about that. Though extremely outspoken politically, he doesn't really talk about politics overtly in this show -- his essay is all about his mother and growing up Catholic in Chicago and life and death and it was really moving. (He was wearing a St. Ignatius t-shirt during the performance.) This should come as a surprise to no one who's read this site for more than a day, but I was openly weeping in the theater; however, I was not the only one. There is something about watching a grown man with gorgeous, sculpted guns (oops, did I say that) fight back tears with all his might while talking about his mother live on stage that just made the tears flow like a river. All I could hear were people sniffling and crying around me; otherwise, the crowd was still and silent and riveted. He talks a lot about his conflicting emotions about the church and all about his really devout mom and what his feelings are on the church today. Even though Dan Savage and I are unlike in obvious ways, I could relate to so much of what he said about family and heaven and tradition. And even if what he says is something you don't agree with, overall, it was a really honest account and ultimately very life-affirming and beautiful. (To me, anyway.)

This is all just to say that if there's any way you can go on May 7, I think you should. The tickets are expensive for 90 minutes in a movie theater, granted, but it's worth it if you can swing it. At least I think so. If you can't make it to the theater, there's (of course) a radio version airing this weekend. You might have to check your local public radio listings for that. The theme of the show is "return to the scene of the crime." I think you should check it out.

In other news, I have spent way too much time lately thinking what a useless addition Kelly has been to The Real Housewives of New York.

In Treatment and other stuff.

(The following paragraph contains spoiler information related to casting for season one of In Treatment. You might want to skip it if you care about that sort of thing. I won't give anything away specifically in regards to the plot, but you might be able to infer things about the plot from this information.)

(Spoilery information starts ...)

I'm midway through week 8 of season one of this show with one more week to go. Like most people of my generation, I suspect, I first saw Glynn Turman as Col. Taylor on A Different World, one of my favorite shows of the '80s-'90s. I never missed an episode. And I liked him on that well enough but never really knew what he was capable of as an actor, clearly, because he so stunned me with his performance on In Treatment that I could not stop crying for the entire episode. I mean, I cried the entire way through. He was so good and so powerful that I couldn't stop thinking in the back of my mind, while the power and sadness of the episode and his performance swirled around me and streamed down my face, "If he did not win the Guest Actor Emmy for this performance, there is NO justice in the world!" Once the episode ended, I looked it up, and he did! He won. And my God, he deserved it. There have been episodes of this show that have had me on the edge of my seat, certainly, particularly the ones with Sophie and with Gina (Dianne Weist won the Best Supporting Actress Emmy! I just learned this, too! Hooray!). But I think this one surpassed them all. Wow. That's all I can really say. If I had to describe the emotional impact of this show on me, I think I would have to say that 37 episodes in, it has really taken it out of me. But it has also filled me right back up again. Over and over. It's been a strange and wonderful TV experiment and experience for me. I might have to sign up for HBO for the first time in my life just so I can dive into season two.

(... spoilery information over.)

I don't think I mentioned that AB Chao and Co. came to town last month. It was great to see them. It should come as no surprise that they're a fun bunch. It is strange to think that she lives so near and yet so far. Soon I shall join her group, Bench Monday. I just need to find myself a good sturdy bench.

I am making preliminary plans to go back to D.C. and to Hawaii this year. I need to get myself together and make it happen. I am about to get dressed to go to Jazz Fest with my brother. I cannot believe Today Is Avett Brothers Day. Last year? April 29. This year? April 26. Perhaps this should just become an April tradition. I cannot wait. I am about to freak out with excitement. More later!

Randomosity

(1) I now own my favorite comfy summer sandal in three colors (black, chocolate, and tan), which is possibly excessive. But wearing these sandals basically feels like not wearing shoes at all. I love them. (A note on sizing: I normally wear an 8.5, but the size 8 in these fits perfectly. I have a narrow foot, so your mileage may vary.) I am not the type of person who can wear sassy summer sandals every day of the week. My feet just cannot handle it. These sandles are awesomely comfortable, and I think everyone should buy a pair. So let it be written, so let it be done.

(2) I've never known much about the Buckleys; maybe I've been living under a rock, but they've never really been on my radar. I remember seeing Christopher Buckley last year on The Daily Show and thinking he was funny, and I remember the brouhaha surrounding his endorsement of Obama. But that's about it. The Buckleys might all be a bunch of a-holes for all I know. I read this story today by Christopher Buckley today. It's definitely tinged with a certain snootocity that might just come with being a Buckley, but I got the sense that a lot of love and care went into writing it. It moved me. Like, a LOT.

(3) Elissa, yes! It's okay. Not writing about it around here. But it's okay.

(4) Big fan of tonight's dinner!

That there is a whole wheat English muffin topped with (probably very unhealthy, but whatever) jarred pizza sauce along with broccoli, fresh rosemary, celery, onion, garlic, green bell pepper, yellow squash, chicken breast with lots of cayenne pepper, and a little grated mozzarella cheese. I sauteed all the toppings (except for the cheese, obviously) in a skillet in olive oil before baking the teeny pizzas because the last time I attempted to make pizza without cooking the veggies first they stayed rock hard. This way worked like a charm. Yum!

(5) Not that this is in any way original, but my Adam Lambert obsession began weeks ago and is still going strong. I decided from the first time I saw him on American Idol that he is made to star on Broadway as Judas in Jesus Christ Superstar. A little YouTube scouring, and voila! A preview of what is clearly his destiny. I also quite frankly enjoy Adam Lambert in a face full of make-up with a bare midriff. How did we live before YouTube? I'll never know. My sister is staunchly in the Kris camp, and he is definitely adorable and talented, but there is something about this seasoned, make-up wearing, boy kissing musical theater guy making it big on the national stage that really appeals to me.

(6) I am on the hunt for a healthy bread I can make sandwiches with pretty much every day of the week for lunch. I am willing to buy it at Whole Foods/Paycheck if necessary. I just do not know what to look for when it comes to sandwich bread. It all seems to have dozens of ingredients. Does anyone know of a healthy or semi-healthy loaf of bread I can buy?

Swimming, eating, remembering

My first sweet treat since Lent started was a long time coming. I waited until the Thursday after Easter, when I could return to my favorite cafe and enjoy one of their magnificent pastries. I chose a cappuccino and an almond croissant. It was truly heaven in my mouth, and I ate every little bit carefully and slowly and deliberately. I told myself, "Self, see? See what a treat this is? It's so wonderful, and it was worth the wait."

Then the weekend rolled around, along with a limo ride with some friends for a birthday to one of the best restaurants in existence. And lots of wine. And this:

That is a damn fine plate of food in a sauce made with a damn lot of butter. But I didn't care. It was awesome. And I ate it with grilled shrimp over a fried grits cake and crab cakes and shrimp in a bread bowl and more wine. And then some starbursts and tootsie rolls from a candy bowl. And a good time was had by all, and I'd run three miles that morning, and I still felt perfectly in balance on Sunday, if a bit hungover.

Then this happened:

Oops! A friend and I went to see an art exhibit downtown and wandered over to Earth Day, where it seemed the only right things to eat were strawberry snowballs and a giant plate of greasy Chinese food that cost $13. We split this, yes. But still. Not exactly the healthiest lunch on the block. But who cares? It was a festival, and it was fun to park myself on a curb with a stack of napkins and an old friend I hadn't seen forever and eat that hot mess together. And I went on a long walk when I got home. Then I went to my parents' house after going to mass with them and ate tons of my mom's perfect tuna salad and about two pounds of shelled pecans. I'm not sure what possessed me to eat all I did this weekend. Maybe I was just hungry.

(Mass was good if a little strange. Lots of youth group type kids apparently go to this mass, which is swell, and I like the modern music a lot, and the musicians are fantastic, but I need at least one 80s-style Glory and Praise hymn per mass. That's something I had an epiphany about at this service. I like the young, hip tunes, but throw in a "Here I Am, Lord" or "Sing a New Song" every now and then, please, and it would be perfect. My little brother recently announced that "We Are Called" should become the standard recessional hymn for every mass because nothing can top it. I think he might have a point. OMG: the composer of "We Are Called" has a Myspace page. And none of those versions sounds very good, I'm afraid. Anyway, I didn't realize he also wrote "You Are Mine," which is another favorite of mine. Random Catholic music tangent: one of my co-workers and I got a little punchy from stress last week and started singing the first lines of Catholic songs we grew up with. It is very strange to think we grew up on opposite ends of the state but grew up singing the same songs in church. "Sing to the Mountains," "Lord of the Dance," "City of God," the list goes on and on.)

My very tenacious friend who might as well go ahead and become my life coach persuaded me to do the swimming leg of a triathlon for a mutual friend who only wants to do the biking and running leg. Fine. I think this event is months off, so why not? My friend said, "Let's go swimming tomorrow night!" Which was tonight. So I said, "Sure! Why not!" I bought some goggles and a swim cap at lunch and we went to a place where I thought we had permission to swim, but we totally didn't. My friend acted like we did, though, so in we went. I hadn't swum actual laps in an actual pool since 2003. We swam 8 lengths in the 50-meter pool and called it a day. I got tuckered out doing freestyle about half-way through (tuckered out = felt I might have heart attack) so I started alternating between that and breast stroke. I seriously could do the latter, I think, for hours at a time. It is so soothing. I threw in one length of backstroke just for good measure. Turns out the triathlon is actually, like, next weekend. Awesome! We'll see how that goes. I'm glad this is an event that can be split into legs, because I think it will be fun to participate, but I don't think I could ride a bike on a road if I couldn't even ride a bike in my friend's class in Hawaii for more than approximately thirty seconds.

I just have to say that I do love swimming. It is strange to think that my brother and sister and I swam every summer, all summer long, every single morning for practice plus meets on Saturdays. I don't remember much about those summers except that I think we'd end up just staying at the pool all day. It's not like this was a super-elite swim team or anything. There were all skill levels, and it was just fun. We all wore red swimsuits. The meets were awesome because we would eat jello straight from the box "for energy." I think my sister and I both did it from ages, like, four or five to twelve, every summer. That boggles my mind! (The little kids and the big kids had separate practices, obviously.) I was never the fastest swimmer, but I did always come out second in breaststroke. Even though it was my best stroke, there was one girl I could never, ever beat.

One time the coach at practice made me swim a lap of butterfly all by myself, making the other kids stand by the pool and watch, because she said my stroke was perfect. I remember that she basically barked at the older kids, "Look at this kid! If she can do it like this, why can't you?!" I was one hundred percent mortified but also one hundred percent proud. I was never a child who was known for athletic prowess, so to have something like that happen to me was astonishing and I have never forgotten it. I remember swimming the butterfly across the pool at that moment and thinking that all of those high school boys were watching me and was it possible the coach was making fun of me or punishing me in some way? But I don't think she would do that. Other major swim team memories: practicing swimming the entire length of the pool without taking a breath, throwing the coach in the pool after the meets, and always, always going to Godfather's pizza after the meets with wet hair.

Anyway, so swimming laps brings back mostly happy childhood memories. I know that cardio with impact is important for joint and bone strength, but I think swimming has to be awesome for you, too. I will try to incorporate it more into my life even if breaking the swim place law made me kind of nervous today. I am just not the criminal type.

Tonight after swimming I made an awesome dinner. Onion, bell pepper, garlic, yellow squash, and celery with fresh rosemary and cayenne pepper mixed with chicken breast and slivered almonds cooked in olive oil and quinoa with a little grated mozzarella cheese on top. It made me feel more in control of myself and was delicious.

I would literally give my right arm for a disc of In Treatment to watch right now. Only three weeks left! I love it so much. Must wait for Netflix, though. This is a busy week of dinner and lunch with friends and a date with Ira Glass. Life is good.

Easter weekend

Good Friday was not a holiday this year, as I worked all day. After work, I headed to see my friend M's new house, which is beautiful. It is always fun to see her and her girls. I love being able to watch them grow up.

On Saturday morning, I worked on homework for three solid hours in my jammies. Then I went on a three-mile jog, which was pleasant if a bit hot. I headed into the office for the afternoon, which was not the thrill of my life.

That evening was more homework plus hours upon hours of In Treatment, which is so good I can hardly believe it. I cannot stop thinking about that show. I hold my breath for entire episodes at a time. Gabriel Byrne is so good. I thought nothing could ever surpass the way I love him in the proposition scene in Camelot, but he is just blowing me away in this role. (I still cannot watch that without crying, but I never cry as hard as I did when it first aired last May, as I started to literally project it onto the upcoming presidential election -- having thoughts like, "This is the time of Obama, when we shall reach for the stars! This is the time of Obama, when violence is not strength, and compassion is not weakness! WE ARE CIVILIZED! Resolved!" Anyway.)

And Dianne Wiest ... forget about it. She astounds. (Can I just say that I have loved her since Footloose and how amazed I remain by the fact that for some mysterious reason her parents lived two doors down from my BFF growing up, in this very town? And that my BFF met her and asked her what it was like to work in The Lost Boys with the Coreys? I am not making this up.) Anyway, this show is awesome. An evening with my stir-fried chicken and veggies over rice noodles and this show was actually a mighty fine Saturday night in my book. Topping it off with Zac Efron on SNL was just icing on the cake.

Easter dawned with a trip to the grocery store, where I ran into an old friend from graduate school whom I haven't seen since the summer of '98 and who is visiting for Easter break. He looked exactly the same. He wrote a poem about each of us in our little group, and I still have the one he wrote about me. Ah, memories. Unfortunately, I spent most of the day slogging through more homework. When it was time for evening mass with my little brother, it started dumping rain. We got quite wet on the way in, and there was a sparse crowd. Good music, short mass, people in jeans, fine by me. After dinner, we met the other brother, his new girlfriend, and her visiting sister for sushi. Everyone but the sister was eager to discuss Friday Night Lights. My older brother was the only hold-out among the siblings in terms of hearts set aflame for this show, and now he's come over to the light. Both brothers admitted that the show makes them weep openly. This show brings people together, I am telling you. I'm so glad it's not over yet. (This is a frank, lovely, and very moving column by Scott Porter, a.k.a. Jason Street. Warning: full of season three spoilers if you're not caught up.) It was strange not having the parents in town for Easter, but it was still a decent day, homework drudgery notwithstanding.

I spent a little time yesterday making brownies with rolos, chocolate chips, and toffee. Usually these are made with chocolate cake mix, but I decided to use yellow to give things a different spin. I made them for my hardworking work peeps, and they seem to be a hit.

Speaking of baking, there is something about Tastespotting that makes me happy. I can scroll through this site for untold hours. I've never made anything from the recipes, but I'd like to. Even if I never do, this site releases actual endorphins within me. My body feels actually warmed when viewing the pictures. It is very strange. These pictures and the whole layout and concept of the site make me feel blissed out and satisfied.

I have not yet indulged in sweets. I've decided to break the fast with something sweet at my favorite cafe when it reopens soon. At least I'll know whatever pastry I decide on is homemade, handmade, fresh, and fabulous. I was semi-tempted to enjoy some leftover Easter candy dumped in the work candy bowl today, but I decided to wait for something really special. Hence the grapes I just had for dessert. Exciting!

Meanwhile, I was very sad to learn of the death of Judith Krug. Watch or read a great speech she gave back in 2002. She was a warrior and, in my opinion, a true American hero.

Food

It is very strange to think I have not eaten sweets since February 25. That is the longest I've gone without sweets in my whole life, probably, except for maybe when being exclusively breastfed. I'm not joking.

The sweetest thing I've had since Lent began, if we're talking quantity of sugar, was the Tropicana Pure Valencia orange juice in the several mimosas I drank at my St. Patrick's Day parade party. (Damn, that is some fine bottled orange juice.) I decided that though the juice was very sugary, it didn't count as an actual "sweet." (I can't find the information online, but surely bottled orange juice is chock full of sugar, right? Anyway.) Oh, and I did have more than my fair share of bourbon slush that weekend. Which has a lot of sugar. But other than that, nope.

During Lent, I've been around cookies, cake, ice cream, candy, cupcakes, brownies, etc. and haven't had any. It is truly shocking. I even stopped eating Cracklin' Oat Bran in the mornings because it's chock full of corn syrup, sugar, etc. and is totally only pseudo-healthy. I've been eating Shredded Wheat & Bran instead. Which has hardly any ingredients. And hardly any taste. But I'm down with it in a mug of soy milk, definitely. (Although apparently soy milk can kill you. Sometimes I don't know what to believe, I really don't.)

But anyway, the few ingredients plan is really working for me. The fewer, the better. Is this crazy? I don't know. I haven't even eaten Zone bars, my formerly "healthy" snack, because they have a million ingredients and are coated in chocolate, for Pete's sake.

It's not like I've been totally healthy. I've had pizza and cheese fries and pints of beer and what is surely a fat-laden puff pastry with an egg and prosciutto about once a week. But that snack is lovingly made by the hands of talented pastry chefs at my favorite cafe, so I'm down with it. It seems like basically real food to me, which is what I've been going for. I still drink half-and-half in my daily coffee and have had delicious whole milk in my cappuccinos from the cafe. And at least cheese fries are potatoes, you know? Tonight I had two hush puppies at dinner with my turkey burger. They were spicy fried cornbread balls of delight, and I don't regret a single bite.

This whole sweets giving up thing has steered me to not snack between meals for the most part and not eat food that comes in bags or packages or is super-duper processed or laden with chemicals. I had a handful of pretzel sticks when helping to pack up M.'s pantry and it felt like such a treat. My only really unhealthy "snack food" consumed during Lent was a small vending machine bag of that cheesy dorito / pretzel / sun chip / cheeto mix consumed while working on a Saturday because I was absolutely hungry and it seemed like the healthiest snack of those available. Oh, and I had a handful of goldfish out of the bag in my friend A.'s car (that bag of goldfish that seems to ride around in the car of every parent of small children) after a few beers after the 5K. The fact that I can name these snacks on one hand is hilarious to me considering the amount of snacking I have done all my livelong life.

The very, very weird thing about this Lenten experience is that I haven't felt deprived. I don't really miss the sweets for the most part. Today in the grocery store I passed a bag of Tootsie Rolls that I had a sudden craving to eat in its entirety, but it passed as I passed the bag by. I've also had a couple of strange urges to open my mouth wide and start pouring honey nut cheerios in it as fast as I can chew and swallow them. But again -- fleeting. Instead, I feel like my meals are real treats. Last night, I ate a chicken breast cooked in a little sesame oil with rice noodles and acorn squash. So simple but so totally satisfying and filling. I've been making a ton of stir-fries. I feel like the time spent making a really simple, healthy, yummy meal is time so well spent. It is like a gift to myself. This sounds so unbelievably corny but I'm not sure how else to describe it.

The way I have changed my eating habits has been radical. I do not say that lightly. Radical. I am a person who likes to eat and snack all day long and loves candy and salty, junky snack foods. I could eat a bag of Smart Foods white cheddar cheese popcorn or Chex mix every day, or polish off a box of garlic Melba toasts in one sitting, or enjoy a Twix or bag of Skittles every single afternoon and a big bowl of ice cream every night, no problem. Looking back over this Lent when I've (mostly) eaten three meals a day with minimal snacking, I've realized there's really no need to eat all day long and how freeing it is to not be consumed by food thoughts and food eating throughout the entire day. I can honestly say that banana slices with a tablespoon of natural peanut butter after work in the afternoon tastes better to me than whatever crap I would have eaten before. (That has become my major snack moment, and it's a very calming ritual. I thank my sister for this snack idea.) Grapes and oranges are sweeter than they've ever been. I feel really grateful to love fruit so much all of a sudden. I am like, thank you, earth, for growing this fruit for me. It is f-ing awesome. An orange after a run is so heavenly! Seriously.

I don't even recognize myself when having these thoughts. I've always really loved eating healthy foods but have also always loved eating really awful foods and lots of them along with the healthy foods. My body has not changed in any drastic way at all, because I'm not sure that is super possible at 34 when it's pretty set in its ways, but it feels stronger and more energetic, and that is honestly the most important thing to me. My mind and my spirit have changed in a drastic way, it feels like, and I find that very cool. And meals taste so much better now that I am actually letting myself be hungry for them. And I know my body is healthier on the inside.

I envisioned Easter Sunday as a day spent eating Reese's eggs and licking the chocolate and peanut butter off the wrappers, but now I'm not sure I want to do that. I don't know how much I would enjoy what is basically God's perfect candy when knowing how much better I've felt without sweets and how bad for me they are. Not just my body but my mind. The amount of guilt off my shoulders about eating unhealthily is unreal. Maybe feeling guilty about eating sweets is unhealthy in and of itself -- I know "everything in moderation" is supposed to be the healthiest way to live, and I do believe that, but maybe I'll give myself a little longer than Lent to soak in this sweets-free and snack-free existence before giving so much love and time and attention to sweets and snacks again.

I just like everything about my life better, knowing that I am feeding myself well. I am so grateful to have undertaken this experiment and this experience. I gave up something that I thought had a lot of power over me, but it turns out it didn't. That makes me feel pretty brave and strong. I like that this eating habits transformation occurred during Lent because I do still love the traditions of my family and church. I think Jesus, if inclined, would be psyched.

Sunday

I love the Internet sometimes, I truly do.

Last week, I followed Matt Logelin's link to this video. The video itself is gorgeous -- amazing footage and photos of a father and daughter whose story I've been following for the past year or so -- and I fell in love with the song. I looked up the artist. I downloaded her album. I've been listening to it all week. She might be a new favorite. And I am so interested in ways that we discover music, and I like to remember how I discovered music I love. So, this is how I discovered Amy Seeley. Since then, the line "been realistic about love, been optimistic about the weather" has been floating through my mind pretty much 24 hours a day. Not sure why.

I followed a link at kottke.org to this site, which is clever, funny, and ultimately very moving. The numbered rules are in red, and the accompanying quotations and photographs and captions are delightful lagniappe. This site is full of basic life advice that we'd all be better off following. So many of the sports-related ones reminded me of my dad and brothers. I love this site; it just kills me.

My friend Grace wrote a really nice post recently about food. I have more to say about this, but it can wait.

This video caused me great amusement and delight, possibly because I also have a dog named Daisy. She does not jump like this often, but Zuko does, every day, while outside, on the sliding glass door, wanting to come inside. Weirdo.

And now, random rambling. This week has been a blur of I don't even know what. Sushi & beer at happy hour (fun). Stressing about school (not fun). Stressing about work (SO not fun). I am sad about the end of ER. Even though I missed many-an episode over the 15 year course of the show, I saw a whole lot of them, and it's certainly the longest running show I've followed in my lifetime. I chose Chicago Hope over ER in 1994 and stuck with it for a long time, but I always ended up back with ER, and it obviously long outlasted its initial competition. I have a real fondness for many of those County General characters; I think the softest spot will always be for Carter. I don't know why. I also have never forgotten that sweet and sad scene when Carol tells Luka goodbye and explains that she's been in love with Doug since she was 23 years old. It's weird to think that was in season 6, and here we are, at the end of season 15. I never cared for Sam or Gates despite really liking the actors who played them. I loved Neela. I was very taken by this new, foxy, tortured Dr. Brenner and I'm convinced he will be a big star. This show has been on forever. I don't know why it's affecting me, but it is. I loved how they used old school-style opening credits for the final episode. How could America not break out in simultaneous smiles and tears upon seeing Benton kneel down and do that familiar punching move.

And once again I killed my iPhone. It stopped syncing or charging after an unfortunate encounter with my ceramic tile. The genius bar girl regarded me knowingly after shining a light into the base of the phone and said, "It appears to be a hardware problem." I nodded guiltily in silent acknowledgment of its contact with the floor. She noted that my original warranty had expired. I sighed, "Yes." Then she kept typing and her eyes widened and she broke out into a giant grin. She was obviously delighted to discover that I had five days left on my replacement model's warranty. "I'm so happy for you!" she smiled. "I'm so happy for me, too!" I said. It was a smile fest. Thanks, Apple. Tip: She said that we should only plug our iPhones into the car charger in emergencies. She said it's a "trickle charge" that is not good for the phone and to use the wall charger whenever possible. I told her that I plug that thing into the car charger every time I get in the car. "Oh, that's NOT good," she said. So -- word to the wise, straight from the mouth of the genius bar girl. Chill with the car chargers.

Yesterday evening I did a 5K with some friends, and I have to say, it was a great time. A big street party before and after, basically. My friend and I might join the running club that put it on. It was inspiring to see all of the super-fit runners and also the not-so-fit ones who were there pounding the pavement. It was a beautiful night and the pink azaleas were blooming along the route and the sun was lowering in the sky and it was just swell. The live music, the amber beer, the visiting. Excellence all around.

This morning I went to visit with my parents for about an hour and a half while they prepared to depart on their trip to Sicily. It is funny to sit there as an observer as they pack last-minute things and call across the house about remembering this and that. They pack funny things. Zone bars and Triscuits and large styrofoam cups so my dad can have bigger cups of coffee than they serve in Italy. My dad was in full-on travel garb; it looks like his pants and shirt were designed by Rick Steves himself. We got into our cars at the same time and I happened to have Josh Groban singing "Mi Mancherai" from my dad's beloved Il Postino on the mix CD in my car, so I queued it up and played it loud in honor of their trip, and that beautiful violin played the opening bars of that beautiful music. (The ones starting at 0:26 of that clip.) They started slow dancing faux-dramatically in the driveway. I am excited for them. They love Italy so much.

Finally, I can scarcely recall being more excited for any concert event in recent memory than I am for Brandi Carlile. I was excited to see the Avett Brothers last April, sure, but my love for them was in its initial budding stages when I saw them onstage for the first time, so I had not built up that much pre-concert excitement. My Brandi love has only intensified since first discoving her, and I just know in my heart it's going to be one of those concerts where tears start leaking out of my eyes the moment the artist steps on stage and don't cease until possibly when I'm driving home or falling asleep that night. In between then and now, I'm seeing the Avetts again, and I just learned yesterday that the Indigo Girls are playing the night before Brandi, and I haven't seen them in concert in this state since the mid-90s, and I just feel like April and May are going to be two glorious months for live music in my life, and it feels like just what I need.