Catching Up

Before it gets away from me, I want to get a little down about a wonderful weekend. I've already posted about the concerts, which were both amazing, but I want to record what else went on. It was a rare weekend when the whole family was in town -- my sister and her husband (they live out of state) and my brother and his new girlfriend (they travel a lot). My sister had the inspired idea to rent out a private karaoke room at a Thai restaurant in an early celebration of my parents' 40th wedding anniversary. We thought about inviting other people, but in the end, it was just us, and we had what can only be called a blast. There was dancing, there was drinking, there was so much eating, and there was plenty of singing. One of my favorite parts was watching my mother watch my brothers sing together. Their harmonies were admittedly beautiful but she was just blown away. Many pictures were taken, some of which I will eventually get around to posting. We also went to one of my brother's gigs, had boiled crawfish, had beignets and cafe au lait, and just had a merry time. I loved having everyone here. Just sitting around eating my mom's crawfish etouffee or lying around on the bed with my sister and brother-in-law were delightful. It was a really wonderful weekend and one I will not soon forget.

Randomness: The Great Performances special In the Heights: Chasing Broadway Dreams is excellent, even if you are not familiar with the show. Definitely worth checking out.

Meanwhile. I am still watching season two of Chuck and loving it a lot and am thrilled it has been renewed. I am reading The Wednesday Wars, finally, and loving it.

I got from Netflix the DVD of the Rent: Live on Broadway special that my brother and I went to see last fall. The special features are indeed quite special. I highly recommend both the live stage show itself as well all of the featurettes, which are VERY WONDERFUL. Seeing Jonathan Larson's parents and sister, all kinds of backstage goodness, the longtime crew members, the closing cast, the original cast (except Adam Pascal -- where were you, Adam Pascal? What could have been more important than this?). Everyone crying and laughing and singing and embracing and remembering, forget about it, it was too much, the tears poured like rain. Rent, I thought I was all cried out over you. But I was wrong.

Once again I have found myself engaging in last minute triathlon registration ridiculousness. A few days ago, I signed up for one that is tomorrow. The distances aren't terribly long, so I think I'll be okay, though I am a bit apprehensive about the biking part since the farthest I've ever gone in my life was seven miles. I'm just going to take it slow, try not to fall off or crash, and try to enjoy myself. I'm viewing it as a chance to road trip with a friend and as good practice for the one in August. I know myself, and I know my anxiety over that one will be greatly lessened over the summer by having this one under my belt.

This morning I went to the farmer's market and came away with fresh eggs, cucumbers, strawberries, bell peppers, yellow squash, and carrots. I feel really good about this. The dogs also approve.

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.

34

The night before my birthday, I went out for Thai with my parents and brother. We had a nice visit over shrimp toast, nam sod, and various shrimp/chicken/vegetable entrees.

On my birthday morning, I was inexplicably wide awake at 4 a.m. I decided to roll over, flip on the bedside lamp, and open Harry: A History by Melissa Anelli, which (Melissa was right) is pretty fantastic. I spent a couple of hours with it before falling back asleep, only to be awakened at 8 by Zuko's staccato alarm bark. Oh well. I ate breakfast and headed out on a run. It was gray and very breezy out, the wind whipping the leaves (and me) all over the road. I got diverted by a train at one point, but overall, it was a fairly satisfying run.

After showering and all that jazz, I stopped for an iced coffee and headed to the farmer's market, where I bought some birthday gifts for friends. It started getting colder and colder outside, which was weird considering how warm it's been lately. I had a nice lunch with B. and headed to my massage appointment. It was my first time with a male massage therapist since Arturo in Costa Rica. I was a little nervous but got over it quickly. As he dug into upper back with great force, he noted that I can take more pressure than most. Then as he dug into my neck mightily, he said that some people have a tight spot here and there in their necks but that mine was tight all over. "Your neck ... is a rock," he said. "Yeah," I sighed. He worked on it for most of the hour, moving onto my hips at my request because they are always super tight, I think from running and squatting during the f-ing Jillian Michaels' DVD, and hard to stretch. He did all sorts of stretches, pushing my knee onto my chest and saying, "Wow, you are flexible. I mean -- wow. You are FLEXIBLE." I told him that was the only thing I scored well on during my gym fitness test a few years ago. Then he held my hip as he stretched it the opposite way across my body and sort of lay on it. This is hard to explain and sounds sort of obscene, but it was all very comfortable and professional until I screamed when he massaged the IT Band area of my hip with a little too much vim and vigor. Then he worked my upper back underneath my shoulder blades and so forth and it was basically an hour of complete heaven. It felt like a great gift to give myself on my birthday.

After my massage, I lay like goo on the couch and popped in my new Dr. Horrible DVD, a gift from my little brother. It was awesome, of course, as was the musical commentary, which just knocked my socks off. This whole enterprise is so delightful on so many levels to me. I bought myself the soundtrack and made a copy for him so we could continue to share the Dr. Horrible love. It was fun to check the mailbox and get some really nice cards. Overall, it was a lovely morning and afternoon.

The day shifted into evening, and I headed out for a girls' dinner. Stupid me did not think to make reservations, so our group of six faced a two-hour wait. Oops! So we sat outside on the patio, which was challenging due to the fact that a sudden Arctic blast was blowing through. Luckily there were heaters, and it gave me an excuse to wear my new school bus-colored coat all night long. We shared potstickers and pizza and fried rice and pad Thai and drank wine and gossiped and laughed and it felt really good to be surrounded by women I've known so long ... one I've known since kindergarten. They all brought me very wonderful and thoughtful gifts, which I didn't expect, and picked up my tab. It was all very special! I can't really describe it without lapsing into sentimentality so I'll stop there. One girlfriend and I headed out to watch my brother play for a little while but didn't last very long as apparently 34 means you have to be in bed by 11:00.

It got down into the thirties last night after a long string of days in the seventies, so that was a little bizarre. I woke up this morning and went to the grocery store, story of my life. Then I baked a ton of St. Patrick's Day cookies to freeze for my parade party. I've never frozen cookies before and hope they come out okay. I have to say that the green shamrock-shaped cookies are pretty cute even though some of them look more like amoebas than shamrocks. Then I decided to go out to World Market and look for some aqua curtains for my bedroom. I bought these and like them a lot. I also bought a new rug for the foot of my bed. My room, I have to say, is looking very different, and I am happy about it. I decided to go all white for my new bed (more on the new bed soon!), and I think it's all coming together.

Today I made this in my crock pot. I drained that m-fing tofu for like 36 hours and it still felt a bit moist. But I had better luck with the cornstarch and browning the tofu than last time; I think tofu just feels damp no matter how long you drain it! I used olive oil instead of butter and took my time getting it nice and brown, and it turned out perfectly delicious. I cooked it longer than the 3 hours instructed because I checked it at 3 hours and the carrots were still too hard for my liking. I also added a little more water than the recipe called for and when it tells you to add a little water and shake up the remnants of the sauce in the jar, I added 1/4 a teaspoon of cayenne pepper and some salt and shook that up with the liquid. I also added two cloves of chopped garlic and a pretty hefty chunk of chopped fresh ginger. Fascinating, I know! Anyway, I ate it over basmati rice, and it might be my favorite thing I've made in the crockpot thus far. Success!

Overall, it's been a very nice birthday weekend. Today is the beginning of a new month and a new year at a new age. I am determined to live well and work hard and, as Maria instructed Liesl, look for my life.

2 days into '09

Ah ... 2009. So far, so good. New Year's Eve was spent turning in early after turkey and sausage gumbo and spinach pie with B. at my parents' house. On day one of the new year, I slept in and then treated myself to a matinee of Milk, which I'd been wanting to see for months. It did not disappoint. My most powerful encounter with the story of Harvey Milk will always be catching the documentary The Times of Harvey Milk on TV by accident and learning the story for the first time, but this was an excellent movie and I'm very glad I saw it. It made me very sad, both the way it ended, of course, and thinking about how little things have changed despite how hard Harvey Milk and his colleagues fought. I mean, sure, a lot has changed, but clearly, as we saw so disgustingly this year, a lot also hasn't. I wish this movie were getting more press and were open on more screens because I think it's important. The cast was great ... Emile Hirsch particularly impressed me -- it was hard to recognize him as the same kid who played Alexander Supertramp. 

After going to see Milk, I went over to my parents' house to continue to feast on leftovers. My mom wrote thank you notes for wedding-related kindnesses while watched Enchanted. She, unsurprisingly, found it delightful. Later that night, we continued eating still more leftovers and watched Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day; both of my parents really liked it, as I knew they would. What is not to like? I've now seen that movie four times and could easily watch it again today. It's wonderful. Kymm Zuckert, I am not sure what you are waiting for! This is your kind of movie.

After packing in three movies in the course of one day and falling asleep to Sarah Vowell's story of the Puritans, this morning I got up relatively early and headed out for a run. After about a mile, I decided that the morning fog, while very cool looking, was a bit creepy. I argued with myself for a while about whether turning around due to basically zero visibility was neurotic or sensible, and I came down on the side of sensible, ran a mile back home, and turned on Jillian Michaels for the rest of the workout. Oh, how level one still pains me so! My arms basically burst into flames, but I soldiered through. 

I showered and headed to the coffee shop to meet my old friend Herpreet, with whom I had a nice two-hour visit out on the patio. It is always nice to see her and to catch up with someone you've known for a million years. Old friends are so important, and I need to never forget that.

Then I headed over to S.'s to help get ready for a gathering at her parents' house tonight and eat handfuls of her mother's amazing white chocolate peppermint candy. I have to say, when the holidays well and truly come to a close and all friends and relatives have finally returned to their homes far away and all of the leftovers are gone and I return to work and real life, I might have to cry a little bit. 

I hope to post some pictures soon ... now I must get ready to head back to S.'s house for the gumbo event, which leads up to the Party of the Century tomorrow night. 

Maid of honoring

It's a good thing I took off this week so I could devote full attention to my duties as my sister's maid of honor! Phew! This might be the most fun job ever, though. It involves accompanying her on errands, lunching, drinking half cafe au lait/half hot chocolate, folding programs, arranging table cards, opining about sash tying methods, searching for toeless panty hose, making playlists, scanning pictures, attending fancy brunches with mimosas and cheese grits, watching parents cry, eating all of the treats people keep dropping by, sharing lovely sisterly gifts, and so forth. Being the maid of honor means you participate in the action without the pressure of getting married. Not that it's pressure! It's a wonderful thing. But you know what I mean. The week is already flying by, and the big day will be here before we know it. I kind of want it to slow down so we can keep accomplishing fun tasks together.

So, it's been a hectic but enjoyable week so far, the freezing weather notwithstanding, which I HATE. It is allegedly warming up later today as God meant it to when placing us in the South.

I've had a little revelation about my running training. After having to take another 9 days off because I could barely breathe without coughing so hard it felt like my lungs were about to fall out onto the floor during the '08 Cough of Doom, I found myself running three miles on Saturday and two miles yesterday and enjoying this concept of shorter runs just for the fun of it. I realize that though I could keep amping up the long runs to train for the half-marathon, maybe I would be a much happier person running what are normal lengths to me (like 3 miles) on a regular basis and still doing my videos, which I miss. Maybe I should just do the 5K instead of the half-marathon and start enjoying running and life again. The whole point in my mind was to force myself back into a regular exercise routine, and I have. So ... I haven't made a definite decision, but that's where I'm leaning right now. It's sort of anti-climactic to train to accomplish a mission I already accomplished two years ago. I'd like to just stick with exercising regularly in whatever form that takes. That would feel like an even greater achievement at this point, frankly!

(Later ...) It has indeed warmed up outside! Thank goodness. Most of today was spent working on a slideshow. In between scanning and selecting pictures and making my mom watch different slideshow versions over and over and eating an awesome grilled cheese sandwich she made for me, I went through my iPhoto albums and deleted 2,000 pictures. I still have 5,000. It is absurd, and I know I need to delete lots more. Most are already backed up on discs, on my external hard drive, on Flickr, and in Kodak Gallery albums ... there is no need for them to just be hanging around cluttering up my hard drive and making my sweet little iBook stall and freeze and sputter all the time. Meanwhile, for the life of us, my dad and I could not figure out how to connect my iBook to his LCD projector so the slideshow would actually play. This caused a near heat stroke because LCD projectors burn at about 1,000,000 degrees. At one point I actually sat underneath the kitchen table to escape its blare and sweltering exhaust. LCD projectors are nothing to trifle with, apparently. While working on this project, I consumed approximately 6 caramel pecan pralines, and I am surprised my teeth are still intact.

I think I need to lie down and read Sarah Vowell now. I'll close this one off with some recent pictures o' holiday family fun.

Pre-storm update

Taking a moment to take a moment. I got up and ran three miles this morning outside and it was the best three miles I've run in a long time. I kept telling myself, "Be happy the sun is shining and you are outside." Anticipating a hurricane is no fun. I finally found battery-operated fans in a Bed, Bath, and Beyond miracle. Then the challenge became finding D batteries. This is a situation where employees laugh in your face when you ask them if they have D batteries. My dad finally found some at Office Depot, where he literally filled his shopping cart in triumph. He's working on his generator right now. My cousin from Houma is coming, so I'm washing bedding and trying to de-pet hair his room as much as possible. "I like animals!" he insisted when I warned him that they can be a bit much. Everyone thinks they like animals until they go from living with zero to four overnight. I guess in the grand scheme of things, a few pets and their antics are small potatoes compared to your house being covered in water. I haven't gone overboard on buying groceries. I figure we can live on peanut butter by the spoonful for a few days. Right now it's sunny and you'd never know a storm is coming. It is very strange. I think a lot of people around here are having serious PTSD flashbacks from three years ago this weekend. Today is the five-year anniversary of my grandmother's death. She loved weather. She loved weather events, weather forecasts, and the weatherman. Everyone is just basically running around like a straight-up lunatic. Many gas stations are out of gas. One of B.'s school friends just informed me there is nary a loaf of bread left in the city. Every Wal-Mart in town closed at 11 a.m. this morning. Which was kind of weird. I was in a nearby parking lot after having coffee and beignets with my parents and sister and there was a giant emergency loudspeaker from Wal-Mart droning, "THIS WAL-MART IS NOW CLOSED. EVERY WAL-MART IN TOWN IS NOW CLOSED." If you ask me, they closed a little too early, but I guess the employees needed to get home and prepare, in which case, I'm glad they got to go home and do that. Being a town that people evacuate to rather than from is a bizarre experience. I'd certainly rather be in the situation I'm in than a person fleeing my home and not knowing if it's going to be there when I get back. I do worry about things like telephone poles or trees falling on my house, but I have been told and know that I am a catastrophizer. School is canceled for days to come. The power will probably go out tonight or tomorrow morning. I want to be a good hostess for my cousin and make him feel safe and comfortable. I want to help B. not be stressed about school and other things. I want us all to be safe. I want this hurricane to weaken and not hit my state or anyone else's.

Catching up

How can it already be Thursday? Flashing back ... I enjoyed my weekend. On Friday night, I watched the amazing mid-season finale of Battlestar Galactica. I woke up early on Saturday morning, went to the library, where let's face it I am going practically every day these days, and headed to the gym. I planned to walk briskly on the treadmill in my first visit there in eons, but after a five-minute warm-up I decided to try to run for a couple of minutes. And I ran for a little over a mile! It killed me, but I just kept going and told myself to suck it up. Then I walked some more. It was a great work-out, and I felt so proud of myself to know that I am still capable of running (slowly) and might even possibly be able to build up to several miles again. It was the best feeling I've had in a long time.

Then I went to the produce market and stocked up on butternut squash, acorn squash, little red potatoes, sweet potatoes, carrots, broccoli, brussel sprouts, onions, garlic, oranges, apples, bananas, green beans, whole almonds, and probably some other stuff that I'm forgetting! I know I need to eat more protein, and I'm going to work on that. I spent the next seven hours or so working on school work either at the coffee shop or at home, and then I headed to a different coffee shop for a game of Scrabble with a girlfriend. I tried to steam some green beans for dinner, but I let it go too long, the water all boiled away, and the bottom of the pan turned into a bubbly black mess. The green beans clearly did not taste very good. Oh, well.

On Sunday morning, it was time for brunch with the family. My brothers, parents, and I all loaded into one car and headed about 20 miles down river to the restaurant where B. and I ate a few weekends ago. We had a nice visit if you count all crying at a letter my dad wrote and read aloud about being a father as a nice visit, which I definitely do. (Of course my sister was very missed.) After brunch, I headed back to the gym to do the weight machines. When I logged in, the screen flashed ALERT! CAUTION! to warn me that I hadn't logged in for more than a year and a half. Nice. I did one set of 10 reps on each machine and it took every ounce of determination and strength in my body to make that happen. My muscles were quivering and my teeth were clenched and I still feel like I've been beaten about the arms and legs with a baseball bat. But I'm going to try to keep at it.

The rest of this week is blur of work and homework ... I've started referring to my graphic novels class in my head as The Class that Ate Summer '08. It's an unholy amount of work, and I'm just trying to keep up. Favorite new reads: The Walking Dead by Robert Kirkman (a zombie story with heart) and Astonishing X-Men by Joss Whedon (just because it's Joss) and Runaways by Brian Vaughan and Amelia Rules! The Whole World's Gone Crazy by Jimmy Gownley -- it was just really sweet and funny. I actually got up at six in the morning yesterday to Turbo Jam, which was unheard of, and I felt pretty great about it. I still don't have all the moves, but I think I'm getting a little better. I am slightly uncomfortable every time the teacher says, "Do you feel that? I know you feel that," but I laugh every time she instructs to "Make that W!" (with your arms) "...because you're a WINNER!" She is so upbeat it is unreal. But I like her, mostly. I am waiting to get the weighted gloves in the mail, so we'll see how that goes! I find that sometimes in bed at night I still hear echoes of the Turbo Jam music, like I used to do with the Super Mario Bros. 3 music as a kid, sort of like the way the bed rocks after you've spent the day on a boat. Last night I was lulled to sleep by the beat of "bump and grind, bump-bump and grind."

Last night I made a stir fry for dinner -- in olive oil, I cooked up red, green, and yellow bell peppers, tofu, almonds, broccoli, and carrots and ate it over a little whole wheat pasta. Yum! Overall, I am really trying to embrace this whole healthy routine and find that I am not even craving junk food because I am not nearly killing myself taking almost 400 stairs every morning just to squander that fitness on a goddamn Reese's peanut butter cup, you know?

I guess that's about it for now. I can't get my camera to turn on, and I miss taking pictures. It might be time for a new little pocket camera or time to buy a DSLR. I can't decide. So I just take blurry pictures with the iPhone and call it a day.

Meanwhile, I continue to love So You Think You Can Dance beyond reason and cannot understand why everyone in America doesn't start watching this show.

This is going to be one weird summer.

Weekends!

This past one was an early birthday/bon voyage celebration and started with a mix-up of Elizabeth's famous bourbon slush. I decided to halve the recipe, so it went like this: 4 cups of water, 1/2 cup of frozen lemonade (thawed), 1/2 cup of frozen orange juice (thawed), 1/2 cup of bourbon, 1/2 cup of sugar. Freeze in plastic pitcher. It was frozen by morning, and we enjoyed it all weekend. This is the perfect summer drink treat.

Friday afternoon, we headed out for pizza with one of B.'s school friends and his fiancée. Blue moons and pizza were consumed and presidential politics was discussed. Then we watched Battlestar Galactica, which frankly was as dull as dishwater. It seemed like a lot happened, but it all happened so utterly boringly that I could not care. We also started The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, but I slept through most of the first half. I blame the Blue Moons.

On Saturday morning, we headed out to the farmer's market for muffins, lemon scones, garlic cheese biscuits, and coffee. At some point, we finished The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, which was so utterly gorgeous and profoundly moving that I wept throughout. I loved every performance in the movie, especially Max von Sydow's. Highly recommended. We had lunch at one of our favorite sandwich places and listened to the guitar man play the theme from The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly on his fiddle very beautifully. B. went for a massage, and when I went to pick him up, I saw the teacher of my old circuit class!!!!! He gave me his card and I really hope to check out his new gym. B. said, "She loved that class," and I said, "I did. I really did." In the immortal words of my teacher, "Love yourself!"

That afternoon, we went to a reception at an art gallery where for some reason I almost had a heat stroke even though normally I'd be all about visiting a labyrinth, and then we went out to dinner. We had shrimp over eggplant and angel hair pasta and some other stuff. I can't remember. Oh yeah. A fried ball of crabmeat with little fried strings shooting out of it that looked like the flying spaghetti monster. Sazeracs. Cake.

A new dog park opened, so when we woke up early on Sunday morning, we decided to head over there.

I first brought Zuko home a little more than seven years ago because the shelter people told me he gets along with any dog, any time, and I didn't want a dog who would snap back at Daisy. They were right, and it seems this is his essential nature and hasn't changed. He just rambled around at the park and had a great time, not really engaging in serious play with the other dogs, but being unfazed by it all and peeing happily on every fence post he passed. Daisy was nervous, but she didn't snap at anyone and seemed to appreciate the wide open spaces she could retreat to. It was a good time.

Later that morning, we headed down the river for brunch. I got us hopelessly lost and was an asshole about it. But brunch was divine.

"Why don't we eat here all the time?" B. asked. "I was just thinking the same thing," I said. He had some kind of black bean soup with shrimp and bacon, and I had the best food on earth, otherwise known as a bread bowl with shrimp, yellow/red/green bell peppers, and purple onions in some kind of buttery, spicy heavenly sauce and a mimosa.

Then we split eggs over a fried grits cake topped with BBQ shrimp. All of this took place in a little old wooden building that used to be a general store right across from the river. This place is almost too perfect.

After that, we stopped at my parents' house so B. could look through their multiple boxes of crazy travel accessories. On our way out the door, my dad asked him if he had a pedometer. When he said no, my dad shrieked, "YOU CANNOT GO TO EUROPE WITHOUT A PEDOMETER!" and ran back into his study to fetch one. One of my dad's favorite things to do when traveling is to measure and then report how many miles he walked that day.

Early that evening, we met a couple of friends and their dogs back at the dog park. It was way, WAY more crowded this time, and while Zuko continued his easygoing wandering without caring where I was, Daisy was not as relaxed and stuck pretty close to my side. I think it was because she was pretty tired from the outing that morning and kept looking at me wearily while surrounded by fetching, spazzing dogs with an "I am nine, and I have had it" face. If she felt cornered and didn't appreciate it, she definitely let the other dogs know. B. kept reminding me that she picks up on my nervousness, so I tried to keep my distance, but usually I'd just walk away from the scuffle and call her to come with me to a less crowded area of grass, and it would work out okay. I really want to keep taking them, but I do worry about her sometimes. The funniest sight of the evening was seeing four large dogs sniffing the belly of a yorkie who'd rolled over and seemed to be loving the attention -- either that or seeing our friends' floppy, adorably clownish boxer / mastiff mix bound over, come to a face-to-face stand-off with a chihuahua, and lick it delicately on the nose.

The reason behind all of the festivity this weekend = B. is going to France for the summer. I just waved goodbye in the driveway and cried a lot. I am now consoling myself with cold cashew chicken and a Gossip Girl rerun.

I miss him already.

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 it. 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.

Easter feaster

For Easter lunch my mom made crawfish fettucini, dirty rice, cabbage crunch salad, a ham, a turkey, ice cream dessert, rolls, and apple pie. I can't decide if it was over-the-top excessive or just right. I think just right.

On Friday night, B. and I attended a bowling birthday party for a friend. After another 70-hour work week (not complaining; many of my colleagues worked possibly twice that), I was a little delirious and did not get too into the bowling revelry. I contemplated posting a video B. took of me taking a turn but I might be just a little too proud for that as my technique is rather spastic. I saw some school pals there, which was a nice surprise.

Yesterday, we woke up early and went to the farmer's market. We bought grapefruit and cranberry cream scones and brussel sprouts and peanut butter fudge. I tried to nap but it was futile, as usual. I went to my friend M.'s house for a little while to hang out with her and her girls. The Annie soundtrack reigned supreme as usual lately. B. and I got sushi take-out for dinner and watched Michael Clayton, which was better than I thought it would be.

I've been watching a lot of behind the scenes features on the Across the Universe DVD, and the more I delve into this movie, the more I like it.

This morning, I was being lazy and watching The Goonies before we went to lunch. Of course I have seen it one billion times and own it on DVD and loved it so much as a child I used to dream about it, but that doesn't mean I won't stop flipping and watch it if it's on TV. Anyway, I understand that at the beginning all of the kids have their backs turned or are distracted when the Fratelli chase is going on so nobody will believe Chunk at first when he tells them about it. But I don't understand what the giant vat of water is that Martha Plimpton is sticking her head into to cool off. What is that about? It certainly doesn't look very clean. Mystery. Okay -- according to this version of the script: "Stefanie, known to her friends as Stef, is at the docks. The chase passes behind her while her head is immersed in a fishing barrel. She surfaces with a crab in hand and tosses it aside, oblivious to the commotion. " -- but why would she be sticking her head in a fishing barrel? Can someone please explain this to me?

I watched Barack Obama's speech of this week this morning. I had tears streaming down my face for approximately 35 of the 38 minutes. I tried to bring it up at Easter lunch but my mom said even though she heard me and understands that it was a great speech that she does not approve of Obama, basically. I feel like maybe she buys into the idea that he's a great speaker, but so what? I tried to explain that reading his first book really showed me what's behind the great speeches and how much more deeply I understand where he's coming from now. She said a lot of people don't understand why he would stick with that preacher for the past 20 years if he disagreed with him so much. She wasn't saying she thought that; she was saying a lot of people are saying that. I was so out of everything happening in the world because I was working so much that I haven't really heard the reactions. I didn't know what to say, so I just said, "People are complicated." She thinks it's really going to hurt his campaign. My dad said he doesn't think it will have as much of an effect as she does. He thinks Obama will get the nomination. Both said they don't know if he can win. It was kind of baffling. My dad is careful not to say too much, I think, because I think they get that I love him. I guess I just don't understand how my mom of all people doesn't understand why Obama would not want to stick with someone who helped to bring him to his Christian faith and in whose church he was literally converted even though sometimes he says messed up things. I just do not know. It's sort of confusing to me. I love my mom and want to understand where she's coming from.

It makes me sad to think about it, so I think I'm going to eat another piece of peanut butter fudge.

Update

I worked 70 hours last week, something I hope not to repeat any time soon, though I might. That's nowhere near the number of hours some of my rockstar warrior colleagues worked, so I won't complain.

Here are some things that have made me smile recently:

Standing around the island in my friend's kitchen with her, her husband, her mom, her sister, and her four-year-old daughter as we adults started randomly singing "Dumb Dog" from Annie (her husband making the tinkly doo-doo-doo-doo background notes quite impressively) and the little girl just sat there looking at us like we were all nuts. I started laughing as we wrapped it up, and she said, "IT'S NOT FUNNY!" not unlike this kid, which just made me laugh harder. Then she said to me, "Why do you sing so weird?" and I just had to shrug.

Watching The King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters, which I found entirely hilarious and strangely riveting.

Going out for a nice dinner with B.

Seeing my mom's azaleas in bloom.

Hearing about how my dad cannot tolerate the small cups of coffee in Rome so, on a recent visit, brought several large to-go coffee cups from his favorite coffee shop here at home and took one with him every time he ordered coffee. He ordered a café Americano, an espresso, and a cappuccino and poured them all together into his large Styrofoam cup. At first he got weird looks from the locals, but then, he said, they began to envy his giant cup of coffee deliciousness as he strolled out with his cup. When they sat in the audience before the Pope, he aimed his camera at the man but not before placing his coffee cup on the railing. Coffee cup in the foreground, Pope in the background.

Hearing the theme music begin in the trailer for the new Indiana Jones movie. My sister says she does not remember the movies well; I do, especially the second and third - I think I spent a lot of time watching them at a friend's house. I am super pumped about this one.

Spending yesterday in its entirety with my sister on a warm and sunny Sunday. We went to see Definitely, Maybe, which was very sweet and cute, ate soup and salads outside on a nearby restaurant's patio, got coffee, walked to an estate sale, went to the bookstore and posed dorkily with Rob's book, drove around listening to showtunes, had heart-to-heart conversations, and went to the pottery painting place. It was very nice. Then we went to my parents' house for a dinner of shrimp & corn soup. Glorious!

Pickles and Screws

My mom called me when I was at work the other day.

"I'm at the store," she said, "And I'm buying some pickles for Dad and just wanted to know if you needed any."

She knows that this store (that I rarely go to) sells my favorite pickles.

I told her I was all stocked up on pickles but thanks.

Last night I went over at her request to pick up a plate of leftovers, and she presented me with a scarf she'd bought on sale that she knew I would like. It is a very cute and warm scarf.

When I got home from Target the other night, my car's headlights fell upon my dad, who was bent over in my carport looking for something on the ground with a flashlight. Upon my questioning what he was doing, he explained that he came over to change my outdoor lights and had dropped a screw. He was afraid I would get a flat tire if I rolled over it with my car when I got home.

Love is your mom fixing you a plate of leftovers, buying you a scarf, calling you to see if you need pickles.

Love is your dad in his sweatsuit in the cold with a flashlight, searching for fallen screws, standing on ladders, changing burned-out bulbs, letting there be light.