Joy be with you all

Finally, finally, finally ... The Swell Season. The show was the perfect mix of new and old songs ... they started by sitting on the floor at the edge of the stage playing Fallen from the Sky, which delighted my brother to no end because he was really hoping they'd play it but doubted they would somehow. I pretty much cried during every single song from Once. I couldn't help it, the tears just sprung & flowed and there was nothing I could do to stop them. There was so much emotional backstory and weight to each of these songs for me, and hearing them live made my heart feel very explode-y.

[Edited because I was able to retrieve the notes I made on my phone.] The rest of the setlist: Lies (commence tears), Low Rising (much more rockin' live than it is on the album), Magnolia, Feeling the Pull (super lively and fun), The Rain (Glen said that this song is about that moment just before you get cynical when something surprising and great happens -- for them, this something was Once), The Moon ("New Orleans is fuckin' spooky, in the best way ... this is a song about people who make you feel exhausted"), If You Want Me, Fantasy Man (Marketa said that there is a light at the end of every tunnel and it's about knowing deep down that things always get better), Leave, Say It To Me Now (totally unplugged and totally amazing), Back Broke, Astral Weeks, Emer's Dream, The Lakes of Pontchartrain, I Have Loved You Wrong, Once, When Your Mind’s Made Up, Falling Slowly, a new song that doesn't have a title yet -- I jotted down "working on a high hope," High Horses (which Glen said is about being worried about someone and wishing that person luck -- a "rootin' for you song"), and Red Chord/The Parting Glass, a Clancy Brothers cover that just made me cry some more ... a sweet and pretty goodbye sort of song ... the crowd joined in, and Glen said, "Now you all sound Irish."

(Someone put together a few very nice compilation videos of this show with clips from many of the songs! Can't even listen to the third one without crying again! Love.)

Some of the songs were just Glen, some were Glen & Mar, and some were the whole band (Glen/The Frames + Marketa). Speaking of Marketa, she is so lovely, plays the piano with as much effortless grace as anyone I've ever seen, and has such a strong, clear as a bell voice. What beauty.

Highlights of songs we'd never heard included a hauntingly beautiful instrumental duet called Emer's Dream between Marketa and Colm Mac Con Iomaire, who dedicated it to the people of New Orleans, saying something about how it was for everyone who lost something big or small in the storm, and who maybe even found something, and Lakes of Pontchartrain, the video of which I'm hoping will turn up soon because it was magnificent. Another New Orleans-related tune they played was Magnolia, during which Glen led a nice audience singalong, something he did many times during the show. The encore began with Falling Slowly, of course, and you can imagine how that went over with the crowd. Glen got very blink-back-the-tears-y after this one, saying how much it meant to sing it in this city. I wasn't sure what he meant, but my brother thinks it was the lyric, "You have suffered enough, and warred with yourself, it's time that you won ... take this sinking boat and point it home ..." and so forth, and I'm sure he's probably right.

What I enjoyed about the people in this crowd was that they behaved themselves, got totally into everything and sang along and sometimes yelled things out, but it was never too obnoxious; it was always in total respect and appreciation. I can't remember the last time I was in a crowd at a concert where people were actually totally quiet when it was called for and totally loud and boisterous when the time was right. It was refreshing and uplifting to be able to enjoy a show like that without the typical shenanigans of a crowd full of New Orleans college students. (No offense, New Orleans college students.) Glen spoke about the goodwill that Once has somehow inspired the world over and I think he's right -- this music just makes people be nice to each other.

What it boils down to is that for two hours and fifteen minutes, Glen, Marketa, and the rest of the band were, for me, a ray of bright sunshine in this dark, cruel world. I knew Glen was a great singer & musician but didn't know he'd be such a blowing-the-roof-off-the-place showman & such a vessel of goodness and joy onstage. I know that sounds very stupid but -- for real. By the time it was all over, all of us, strangers and friends and lovers and brothers and sisters alike, were basically putting our arms around each other and holding our drinks in the air and swaying and singing along in harmony and believing that life is good and that people are true and that there's hope for us all. Magic!

Good night and joy be with you all. Good night and joy be with you all.

Octoberfesting

My Lord, what a month!

I spent the entire first week in Hawaii, which I won't say much about other than I loved being there. Lots of baby-love and friend-love and eating potato chip encrusted fish sandwiches and coffee toffee nut gelato.

After arriving home, I spent a few days stumbling around as if drunk trying to readjust to the five-hour time difference. I think I might be very constitutionally weak when it comes to jet lag. Then it was time for the biggest football game of the year, which I attended with my mom and brother and where we had a great time despite (a) the rain and (b) losing.

Then it was time for a road trip ... my brother and I drove 400 miles to see Brandi Carlile (opener: Amy Ray). It rained and took six hours and we got a little lost walking through the dark and desolate sidewalks between our hotel and the venue, but all was good. The venue was just fantastic, I cannot lie, and of course the acts were great. Amy Ray definitely rocks out way, way more when on her own, and she and her plaid pants were really great. Brandi joined them for a song or two, which obviously excited the crowd. Stand and Deliver was unsurprisingly a highlight.

And Brandi -- well, if you've seen her, you know what I mean here -- what can I even say? Even though I saw her in May, and even though some of the stories and moments and songs were similar, it was like a whole new world of delicious awesomeness in this beautiful venue with my brother.

I'd prepped my brother with some of her songs on the way there, including her new album which just came out last week, so he was vaguely familiar with her. But when she and the twins and the drummer and the cello player came out to sing "Oh Dear" in harmony with some kind of old-timey-sounding microphone, I was pretty sure I could hear his jaw dropping behind me along with everyone else's in the room. We all just kind of froze in the beauty of it. (Here's a video of the actual performance. While I am psyched this video exists, it absolutely does not do justice to the sound in the space. The acoustics were phenomenal.) Incredible opener! And now I shall list the rest of the setlist in order!

Looking Out: Amy Ray joined the band for this song, as she does on the album. Totally awesome! My mind was blown by seeing them together, for real. The sound isn't great here, but you get the idea.

What Can I Say, Late Morning Lullabye, My Song: These older songs were audience faves, of course, and we were encouraged to sing along, and lo, we did.

Dying Day: Performed unplugged at the edge of the stage. Sensational in every way. Video from our very show.

I Will: Acoustic. Here's the video from our show! This is a new song that didn't really make much of an impression on me until hearing it live. I got a tiny bit teary, to my surprise. I basically thought about various estrangements in life. "... It hurts to be the one that you'd regret. I have to say that I am proud to know you, and I'll never be the same because we met. You might not miss this, but I will ..."

Hiding My Heart: Acoustic. She said they rarely play this one in concert but had started to ask for fan requests, and this was one. Video from our show; gorgeous, obvs. This is quite a depressing song, in case you were wondering.

Dreams: Possibly my favorite song on the new album. You can see the official video here.

Before It Breaks: Kind of heartbreaking. (Video from our show.)

Turpentine: Audience singalong. Fun.

The Story: I am not sure how I have never noticed that she actually switches guitars in the middle of this song. Noticing this made me happy. Obviously, it was awesome.

Let It Be: Very Pretty.

Jackson / Folsom Prison Blues: I thought this first encore would be it! But it wasn't!

Johnny Rottentale: With Amy Ray. Very fun. I like when singers share a single microphone. It warms my heart.

(Brandi mentioned how she had done Cannonball with both Indigo Girls the night before in Atlanta, which made me fantasize briefly that Emily was going to appear. She did not, but here's a video of that performance. It might be a good thing I did not see this live, as I'm not sure my heart would have been able to take it.)

And still, there was more!

Calling All Angels: With her sister Tiffany Carlile. Unspeakably perfect & beautiful. (That link is an excellent video of the two of them performing this song).

That Year: Just Brandi and her guitar and a stool. Heartfelt explanation & lovely, very sad song.

Pride and Joy: Closed it out. (Video from our show ... starts out kind of dark but sounds GREAT.) A powerhouse of a finale to be sure. The instruments got so explodey at the end I thought the top of my head and roof might blow off. Greatness!

Overall, it was a magnificent experience and one that produced such euphoria that it was totally worth driving 800 miles in two days.

Meanwhile, I'm in the middle of this, which probably deserves its own post one of these days. And I'm taking a class on Saturdays, and this weekend is a high tea and a party and a book club meeting and it's just all kind of pouring over, the fun. So ... October isn't even halfway over, and it's already been so chock full of excitement. I'm liking this crazy autumnal bliss, even though it rains every single day.

To close, I would like to share an e-mail I received today from my mother, just because it made me smile. She is making her way through season three of Friday Night Lights for the first time.

I am sobbing. I just watched the scene where [spoiler about Smash redacted]......

I looooooooooooooove this show........except for too much casual sex, it's just about perfect!

Love you!
Mom

And my dad's reply:

So Mom comes into the bedroom all teary eyed and says [spoiler about Smash redacted]. I look at her and say, "Who the F* is Smash?" Clearly, I don't know the plot line.

Dad

Night in NOLA

Oh, I am an old lady. It's true. Last night a friend and I headed to New Orleans for an Ingrid Michaelson show. We had some sushi and beers and walked around the Quarter and hit up a bar in Pirate's Alley and had a sazerac & a martini and it was all well and good. Ingrid did not go on until 10:00, by which time I am normally dead asleep, but I soldiered on for the cause!

The opening act was an English dreamboat named Greg Holden whose tweets about New Orleans are just as adorable as he is. Also, his voice is great and his songs were excellent. I bought his 4-song EP and am digging it already. I love opening acts who seem genuinely stoked, like they can't believe their good fortune. It's very endearing.

Ingrid Michaelson was really good. I have all her albums, and I always enjoy a show when I know every word of every song. I have mixed feelings about the audience. About two-thirds of the crowd: attentive, sang along, knew the songs, had fun and made merry. The rest: a horror. They just stood by the bar and ran their mouths at what I found to be a rude and distracting volume! Greg Holden tried to shush them (adorably, natch) to no avail. Even Ingrid tried to shush them for "The Chain," but no dice. Luckily that song builds to such a glorious degree that it drowned out the ridiculous cacophony of obnoxious undergraduates. I've decided 18 and over shows are for the birds. I really just wanted to kill them all but quickly realized I had to let it go and focus on the stage.

"The Chain" was the best song other than "You and I," which brought the entire band and opening act to the mic to sing in a very cute group fashion. Really, every song sounded great. I know a lot of people dismiss Ingrid Michaelson because of her prevalence on the likes of "Grey's Anatomy," but I think her songs are very beautiful and have a real sweetness and depth.

My only disappointment other than the loudmouths in the crowd was that she didn't play "Keep Breathing." How is that possible? I was looking forward to hearing it live because of the way it swells into major beautifulness. But c'est la vie. We still had a great time.

Brandi Carlile

As if seeing the Indigo Girls the night before weren't enough of a treat, I got to see Brandi Carlile the next damn night at the House of Blues.

Brandi Carlile has been my number one want to see in concert artist for a while now, and the wish finally came true. The concert was the perfect mix of old songs, new songs, and a few covers. It was all I hoped it would be and more, honestly. I knew the music would be amazing, but I did not know she would tell so many great stories and be so unbelievably interactive and charming. Brandi Carlile is the real deal.

(I found it surprising that most of the people I told I was going to this show had never heard of Brandi Carlile. So I'm going to link to some video of songs, mostly from recent shows, so you can check her out if you aren't familiar with her, because I think she is someone special and I love her music very much, obvs. I tried to find ones of good quality. I'm sure you know that you must click HQ if you can. Good stuff, beautiful, really. I must say that I loved every new song and can't wait for the new album this fall.)

Setlist:

Burn: This is a Ray LaMontagne song, which was a nice and surprising opener for the Ray fans in the audience. Video here.

Closer to You: What is not to like about this song? Nothing, that's what. Video here. (Bonus: the following song is also included in this clip.)

I've Just Seen a Face: I was aware that she has performed this in concert but it did not occur to me that she would do it at this show. I love this song, and I love her version of it, and I was bouncing on my toes with delight over this one.

Late Morning Lullabye: One of my faves. It just makes me happy. Video here.

Have You Ever: This was the first song by Brandi Carlile that I ever heard. B. put it on a mix CD for me. I have him to thank for introducing me to her. This remains one of my favorites to this day. Video here.

Dying Day: They stood on the edge of the stage and sang and played this one with no microphones and no amps. It still filled the entire house. Good stuff. Video here.

Dreams: New song. Video here.

Before It Breaks: Beautiful. Video here.

Oh Dear: This was a nice showcase for the twins. Video here.

Creep: Well, this is not a favorite song of mine. But I still enjoyed it. Video here.

What Can I Say: She invited the crowd to sing along on this one, and the crowd obeyed. Video here.

Over You: She wrote this song when she was 17, and it will be on her new album. Video here. It's not the greatest song ever, but it sure feels like being 17. She played it for her mom, who asked, "Why are you so angry?" Totally 17.

Turpentine: The three-part harmony audience choir aspect of this one was very fun. Video here.

The Story: This is the Brandi Carlile song that most people who have ever heard of Brandi Carlile know. Or at least know of. Or at least have heard in a truck commercial. This song did not disappoint, not one tiny bit. This song means a lot to me, just like it means a lot to a lot of other people, and there's a reason for that. And that reason is that it is awesome. I might have cried. Video here.

Jackson: Video here.

Folsom Prison Blues: Totally raucous and fun. Video here.

Let It Be: Beautiful beautiful beautiful. Can't find decent video. She played the piano. It was a perfect closing song. We smiled the whole way home.

At some point during the show when everyone was cheering and cheerful and things got really lovely, Brandi smiled a huge smile and said, "If they could all be New Orleans..." If all the concert venues, if all the cities, if all the places in world.

It was nice.

Indigo Girls

Recently I attended an Indigo Girls show at Tipitina's Uptown in New Orleans. I tried to think back to the times I've seen them. First time: Jazz Fest afternoon show. Skipped out of school early with friends senior year of high school. 1993. Liberating, sunny, beautiful afternoon in the grass. Sometime mid-college. New Orleans. 1995? Some arena setting. Wrote a paper about it for anthropology class. Summer of 1995, Denver. Another time somewhere around here, another arena setting, with sister and friends, the least favorite of the shows, where we joked that they played every song we never wanted to hear. The glorious Chastain Park, summer of 1999 (I think). And that was the last time. Beautiful, outside, transcendent, circled back to that first Jazz Fest show.

Can't believe it had been 10 years. Because I am a nerd and like my iPhone's notes function, I typed the songs in as they played on Saturday night. This is organized by album and not by order of when played in show and will likely only appeal to longtime fans. Basically all you need to know about the setting is that it was standing room only at Tipitina's, shoulder-to-shoulder and hip-to-hip with strangers and friends, totally smoky (only downside), and that the crowd was very enthusiastic and it was basically one big massive singalong. The Girls seemed psyched to be there and very moved to be playing at Tipitina's -- one thing about shows in New Orleans is that the artists really romanticize the city and love it, which makes for a cool vibe. Amy Ray definitely dominated; she also rarely wiped the huge grin from her face, which was endearing; Emily's voice was still really beautiful but was a little tired every now and then. Emily said to the sweaty crowd that it's like taking a bath all the time when you're in New Orleans. Only missed opportunity: Southland in the Springtime. Seemed like a no brainer to me. Major annoyance: couple next to me who slumped over each other's shoulders, closed their eyes, and swayed back and forth the entire night, bumping me with every sway, like they were on their own personal dance floor or competing on Slow Dancing with the Stars. Otherwise, no complaints. Okay, here goes. (I'm going to link to some video, high quality if possible, for some of these ... not necessarily from this show but good recordings. Some of them will include Brandi Carlile, just because that makes me happy.)

Indigo Girls

Land of Canaan: Super fun, of course.

Closer to fine: Last song before encore. Audience member bid $9,000 to walk onstage, drink in hand, to sing final verse onstage with the band and get CD recording of it. She really knocked it out and turns out my friend knows her. She is an OBGYN. Money went to charity (Sweet Home New Orleans).

Nomads, Indians, Saints

Watershed: This one came out of the blue for me and I was so glad they played it. What a beautiful song. One of my all-time favorites.

Rites of Passage

Galileo (2nd encore song, last song of show, with Bonerama -- lots of horns, random but good): Since Closer to Fine and Shame On You had already been played, I was having trouble thinking of a really upbeat encore song. I turned to my sister and said, "I guess all they can play last is Chickenman?" She looked at me like I was an idiot and said, "Um, GALILEO!?" Duh. Obviously. She is smart. It was a fantastic closer.

Swamp Ophelia

Power of Two
Least Complicated

These are not my 2 favorites from this album -- Mystery and The Wood Song and Language or the Kiss are -- but they were fun to sing along to and the crowd loved them.

Shaming of the Sun

Get Out the Map: My sister and I worked on a top 10 of all time list to kill time while driving to New Orleans, and I'm pretty sure this made it, though we didn't write it down so I can't remember. I never thought they would play it, and it was great to hear. Meant something to my brother since he's leaving for a 3-week Europe backpacking trip in a week. Beautiful song.

Shame on you: I've always really loved this one; also a surprise to hear. Really fun in concert, clearly. Almost explosive joy from the crowd.

Come On Now Social

Oziline: I have never really gotten into this album.
Go: Ditto.

Become You

Become You: Decent song, kind of random. Not my fave from this album, but I like it well enough. (Those would be Deconstruction, Collecting You, Hope Alone, Our Deliverance, and She's Saving Me, all of which I love.)

All That We Let In

Fill It Up Again: They played these back to back and I felt they were totally random.
Heartache for Everyone -- Cute songs, sure, but nothing epic.

My two favorite songs from this album are the title track and Come On Home. It would have been nice to hear them in the place of these, but I am not going to quibble.

Prom (Amy Ray Solo Album)

Let It Ring: She did this onstage by herself and blew the roof off the place; hard to put into words; beautiful; spiritual; a prayer. Awesome!

Posiedon and the Bitter Bug (New Album)

Love of our Lives
Sugar Tongue
Driver Education
What Are You Like
Ghost of the Gang
Digging for Your Dream
Fleet of Hope: My fave song on new album.

when I was a girl

all of my fancy took flight

and I had this dream

could outshine anything

even the darkest night

now I wait like a widow

for someone to come back from sea

I've always known

I was waiting for me

I'll Change: My 2nd fave song on new album.
Second Time Around: First encore song.

It was a wonderful road trip with my sister and her new husband and our little brother. We ate pizza on a Magazine Street sidewalk and drank beer beforehand. We sang until we were hoarse. The staff held tall stacks of plastic cups to hand concertgoers on the way out to pour their drinks into and carry out into the night. We didn't get home until morning. When I woke up, my hair and pores and pillowcase smelled like smoke. I'm a little too old for that. But I will always go back to see the Indigo Girls. I love them forever!

Catching up & rambling

A few more words on Chuck: I finished season one and loved every second of it. I spent way too much money for a season pass for the second season on iTunes, but it's worth it to me. I'm two episodes in, and it continues to delight. One of the miracles this show has worked in my life is that it's actually made me like the actress who played the much hated Madison on Everwood. I never would have thought this to be possible, but Chuck is just magical that way.

Last weekend was a nice one. I spent Saturday morning at a little women's retreat led by my mom, and I was so proud. She did a wonderful job. She was funny, assured, inspiring, and wise.

Mother's Day was good. Morning mass followed by an afternoon gig of my brother's, where we ate boiled shrimp and had a merry time. After that, I went on a bike ride for the first time in at least 15 years. I borrowed my friend's bike and rode in her peaceful neighborhood with little to no traffic, which was a good plan. Only once did I end up messing up a turn and rolling inadvertently into someone's front yard. I'm still not entirely sure how to brake and turn, but I didn't fall down and rode for a solid 30 minutes, so I feel great about it!

(A few days later...) Ow. Ow, ow, ow. So cried my back for the next four days. I think leaning over the handlebars and clutching them in a death grip due to being someone nervous on the bike pulled some muscles in my back. It's finally feeling somewhat normal again after not exercising in several days. O Lord.

One night this week, I celebrated my dad's birthday with my parents. Fresh green beans with real butter, corn on the cob, whole wheat spaghetti, fresh pineapple, broccoli salad, and some kind of pounded meat cutlet-y thing. And limoncello! It was good to visit with them and celebrate the wonder that is my dad.

I've read the first section (CORN) of The Omnivore's Dilemma and a little bit of the next section (GRASS). It's a book club assignment, and I had to think long and hard about actually starting it because I feared it would make me more neurotic about food than I already am. I have to turn a blind eye to most of the things I put in my mouth because the freaked out germophobe in me can't tolerate to think about where any of it came from. I'm like, hello, little grape. Did a cow ever take a poop on you? (I know that makes no sense.) I'm not sure that's so healthy, especially when I've been trying to for the most part eat whole and natural foods this spring. That's really a movement towards eating more consciously for me, and I don't want to avoid a book that will shed light on where some of that food comes from. I have to say that the corn section has basically made me never want to think about ever touching any part of any animal fed with corn ever again. Even though last night I ate and enjoyed a giant ear of corn on the cob. Wha? It made me actually mad at corn. Like, how dare you, corn, for being so insidious and being in everything human beings eat and drink? I don't want to be mad at corn. I like corn. Especially when it's boiled with a bunch of crawfish. Which are born in ditches as far as I know. So that is obviously an acceptable grossosity to me. It's hard to decide what is acceptable and what is not.

It's a lot to process. I eat beef once in a blue moon. Hardly ever. Maybe three times a year. Including last night at my parents' house. And it was tasty, but it's just not my thing, unless it's my mom's famous roast. But I do eat dairy products and lots of them. And I eat a lot of chicken, and I eat a lot of eggs. I would really like to go cold-hard vegan, but I don't really know what that would solve for me. I don't want to start eating Boca burgers and fake-ass food like that. I know I could live without beef and chicken and possibly even shrimp though that would be hardest for me as I truly love shrimp. But I do not think I would do well without eggs and cheese.

I don't know. It's a lot to think about. I don't want to obsess about food, but I also want to. I want to know what I'm eating and really think about it and really savor what tastes good and is good for me. But I don't want drive myself crazy. I'd like there to be balance. I'm not sure how. As I was reading the corn section and contemplating the wrongness and badness of "processed" food and food pesticided and horomoned and chemicaled and antibioticed out the wazoo, I comforted myself by thinking, well, there's always Whole Foods. But then I got to the GRASS section. Which so far basically boils down to the fact that Whole Foods and everything sold under its roof is a big fat lie. And it galls me that I've never given much thought to trying to only eat produce that's in season and local hasn't been shipped from a million miles away. I want to be better about this, to do better.

I want to eat healthy things that don't harm my body or the earth. But what are those things? Seriously, what are we supposed to eat? I would really like to know.

(Still more days later ...) I can't seem to wrap this up! I bought a bike! My classmate was selling her gently used bike, a bike that looks like this. I have no idea if this is a good bike or a bad bike, but my sister and BFF tell me it is, and my classmate is nice and trustworthy, and it looks fine to me! My dad gave me his gently used helmet. I am ready to start really learning how to ride it even though I am kind of spastic and scared. This is not exactly a bike-friendly town, though some people are trying hard to make it more so.

Another weekend has gone by. So busy! Spent yesterday in French Quarter with my cousin, attending mass at the cathedral (banging gong drum in choir loft ... so crazy ... I loved it!), running through the rain to brunch at Muriel's, where we ate crawfish hash and crawfish crepes with goat cheese and drank mimosas and yum, and a couple of bars where we nursed family wounds and more mimosas and laughed and remembered. It was a drizzly but nice day. Early Saturday morning, I went biking, and it was very painful and I need some good padded biking shorts right away. Between the cars, bikers, and joggers (even at 7 a.m.) and the crippling nether region pain, I basically rode in constant fear of collision and death and permanent groin paralysis and only made it 3.6 miles. Biking is scary. But I have to learn, and I will!

I am very, very, very excited about Glee.

Meanwhile, some very sad things have happened to some of my friends, and I am thinking of them & love them very much.

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.

Running & Richmond

Phew! It's been a while. It's Valentine's Day afternoon, and I'm sitting here listening to Daisy barking and Nanci Griffith singing "Listen to the Radio."

I guess I'll work backwards. This morning, I got up pre-dawn with some houseguests who had to get an early move-on. I tried to go back to bed, but it was futile. I went on a 3-mile run outside, and it was horrifically muggy. After not exercising for three days, it was tough to hit the road, but I'm glad I did it. I've been having lots of thoughts while running about how it truly is the great equalizer. I mean, barring injury or some sort of condition like bum knees or ankles or whatever, anyone can run. Anyone. And anyone does! All sorts of people run past me regularly. They are equal opportunity smokers, or EOS as I've started to call them in my head. I get smoked and left in the dust by young, skinny sorority girls; silver-haired grandpas; lean, muscled, shirtless marathoners; and women twice my size and age. All of these people are better runners than I am, and I admire them all. What I really appreciate about running is that you can be good at it whether you are the super-fit aerobicizing type or not. Running doesn't care what size or how old you are, it just wants you to put one foot in front of the other. I think that's why I try to stick with it even though I suck at it. I am lumbering, I am slow, and I am totally ungraceful, but there is something pride-inducing about just doing it anyway and being out there with all of the other people, young/old, big/small, male/female, who are doing it whether it's hard or easy for them. It's nice.

After the run, I went out to buy a cream cheese/praline king cake for my houseguests and stopped by my parents' house, where they gave me a nice Valentine and I had a good chat with my mom.

Yesterday, I returned home from a short work trip to Virginia. Mostly I was just glad it wasn't freezing because I am delicate about such things. I really loved visiting the capitol and learning all of the groovy historical Thomas Jeffersony things about the city. It is sad but true that mostly everything I know about Thomas Jefferson, I learned from the musical 1776. I loved walking over the bridge and seeing the river, and I enjoyed an afternoon in an English pub with BW. Hi, BW, if you are reading this. Maybe there is a place at home with penny half-pints? That'd be swell. Anyway, I'll update more soon, but meanwhile, here are a few pictures from my trip:

Catching up / Cry for help

I forgot to mention that I saw a really good rental recently. It's called The Edge of Heaven. I didn't know much about it going in, but I'm so glad I ended up watching it. It's hard to say too much about it without giving important things away, and I wouldn't recommending reading up on it before seeing it. Just know that it's about Turkey, Germany, a father, a son, a mother, a daughter, lovers, political activism, and other fascinating things. I highly recommend it, and I look forward to checking out another effort by Fatih Akin, the award-winning Head On.

My little brother and I took a road trip to see Slumdog Millionaire yesterday after deciding to go to it if it's not going to come to us. It was totally worth the drive and the time. I strenously avoided details on the film before seeing it because I knew it would be special, and I didn't want to know anything about it going in. That was wise. I was surprised by everything, and I had no idea I'd be so nervously on the edge of my seat the entire time. I don't think I relaxed or let my breath out for a single second. It was so exhilarating and beautiful. We loved it and wished we could stay to watch it all over again.

(The next week ...)

I've now seen Head On, supposedly a very big deal. It was definitely memorable and the performances were strong, but it didn't capture my heart the way The Edge of Heaven did. I was mostly annoyed and disturbed by its leading characters instead of in love with them and rooting for them like I was in the other film. There was a little too much blood and sex for me, ultimately.

Thanks to my friend Erin for linking to a great crockpot recipe site. Yesterday, I made the Moroccan lentil soup. The grocery store did not have garam masala, so I used an Indian spice blend, or vegetable broth, so I used chicken broth. Other than that, I stuck to the recipe, and it was DELICIOUS. It also made enough to feed a small army, so I fed some to B., some to my parents, and a lot to my freezer. I am excited to try out some more of this site's recipes for the rest of winter. 

I haven't really been able to get into River Secrets, my love for Shannon Hale's other Bayern books notwithstanding. Luckily, just I was feeling that gnawing feeling of wanting a good book, a galley arrived from trusty Melissa today called A Map of the Known World. (She reviewed it here.) I just read the first two chapters, and it is wonderful so far.

Why did no one ever hold me down and force me to watch Extras? I have just finished season one, and it is the first thing that has made me laugh out loud in ages. It is just what I needed this week, when feeling a bit gray and melancholy, just like the weather, and I can't wait to get season two. I watched Ricky Gervais on Inside the Actors Studio recently, and he said that Andy is the complete opposite of David Brent, which I don't really believe. I understand Andy is a lot more self-aware than David Brent and is often the one actually noticing other people's awfulness instead of everyone noting it about him, but he's really quite similar to David Brent in that sometimes he is so clueless and embarrassing to watch, especially when begging for a line. I mean, clearly he is not the tosser (am I using that British word correctly? no idea!) David Brent is, but he can still be an idiot. Augh! It's so good. I loved it. And it's great to see Charlotte from Ugly Betty as the dim but well-meaning Maggie. And as with The Office, I love watching the behind the scenes stuff because I cannot help but be charmed by the way that Ricky Gervais and Stephen Merchant genuinely seem to crack each other up to no end. Maybe it's all a put-on, but I like to believe it's a real friendship and affection in addition to a professional and creative collaboration. I don't want to think about this too much or it might lead me dangerously down the road toward Merchant/Gervais fan fiction or something. But I do like watching them make each other laugh, and it makes me think of how making each other laugh is so important in a friendship. Even when things are really shitty, my friends and I can still make each other laugh. This paragraph is getting lamer and lamer so I'll stop.

I have nothing else to say except a cry for help. I have to buy a new mattress set. I've never bought one before. My bed is a hand-me-down from my older brother that I've had for 15 years and that he had God knows how many years before that. It's heinous, I am sleeping worse than ever, and it's kind of making life suck. If you have a bed that you like a lot or love, can you please leave me a comment and tell me about it? Also please feel free to share any bed shopping tips you might have. Or feel free to tell me not to buy a certain type that you think is bad. I don't know why I am so paralyzed about doing this; I am a grown woman and should be able to go to a store and buy a friggin' mattress set. But I really like testimonials, and I like getting them from people I know (or sort of know) instead of crazy people on Internet review websites. I am not afraid to throw down some cash because I think this is an important investment that could literally and vastly improve my life. Thanks in advance for any guidance you can provide.

Getaway

It was decided that an end-of-summer (not weather-wise, but freedom from school-wise) night away was in order. So we headed to the quaint and lovely town and stayed at a bed and breakfast. I liked this bed and breakfast a lot because it had cats, a dog, a patio, homemade oatmeal raisin cookies, a six-pack of my favorite beer stocked in the fridge for our arrival, a hammock, a rope swing, beautiful grounds, an antique bathtub with bathsalts and soap that smelled like apple Jolly Ranchers (in a good way), and little guestbooks full of messages from people who've stayed there over the years which made for great reading somehow, showing little glimpses into people's lives from all over the world.

We got up early in the morning to cross the state line into Mississippi, where we hiked down to some "waterfalls." It was great just to be outside, hearing nothing but the bugs and the birds and the water. It's important to get away sometimes. I recommend it.

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.

V to the Tenth

Somehow I did not learn about V to the Tenth until earlier this week. Either the local press was late in covering the upcoming event or I was just oblivious. Either way, around mid-week, I started seeing notices of the night pop up, and I knew that I needed to go. My girlfriend and I left boyfriend, husband, children, pets, homework, and housework behind and fled for the big city about 5:30.

Background: My sister and I went to see The Vagina Monologues in New Orleans years ago -- maybe 1999 or 2000? -- not sure, and I went to see it a few years ago here. Both time were great experiences, and when I had to choose a "tough cookie" on whom to do a major project for a class a few years ago, I chose Eve Ensler. So I'm pretty familiar with the show and even own it on audio CD. It was clear that I needed to be present at this event, even if it meant sitting five rows from the very tippy top of the Arena (which we did). We sat back with our shared hurricane daiquiri and chicken sandwiches and fries and prepared to relax and enjoy the show.

Let me get the negatives out of the way first: I know I let this sort of thing get to me too much, and I feel almost disloyal saying this about a fellow woman while at a pro-woman event of this magnitude, but there was a row of twenty-something women dressed to the nines as if going out for a night with Carrie, Samantha, Amanda, and Charlotte who were very loud when they came in, very loud as they crossed over us multiple times, very loud as some of them moved to the row behind us, and just ... loud. I really hoped they would settle down and settle in once the show started -- but they didn't. One woman in particular who was sitting behind us decided that she needed to take the thoughts in her head and speak them aloud in reaction to the show. Not quietly, not under her breath, not whispered carefully into the ear of her friend next to her -- but out loud. At full volume. When Doris Roberts (the grandma on Everybody Loves Raymond) and Didi Conn (YES, FRENCHIE) were doing the "down there" monologue and said something about things being noisy "down there," this woman said, "Are they talking about ____-ing?" (Rhymes with leafing.) When they said something about the smell "down there," she said, "Mine smells like oranges!" After each of these comments, I would turn around and shoot her a death glare, but it had no effect. When Christine Lahti (CHRISTINE LAHTI!) delivered the "hair" monologue, the woman shared with us that hers is shaved. When Kerri Washington performed the monologue about Bob, the man who likes to look, when Washington was describing how Bob liked to sit in the shade in the summer and wore beige clothes, the woman's friend turned around to her and said, "Bob is SUSPECT," I don't even know what that means. Then when Washington was describing how Bob looked at it for an hour, my favorite person behind me said, "He'd better be doing something else while he's down there for so long!" Death glare after death glare -- nothing. Then the amazing Charmaine Neville came on and gave a little personal speech before performing "Do You Know What It Means to Miss New Orleans?" and wondered aloud what happened to the people in her neighborhood. She said that she wondered what happened to the German woman who would come sit on her front porch and drink coffee with her so they could "talk about people." About the boy who would ride by every day and tease her dog. About the Vietnamese family who ran the corner grocery store. My friend behind me said loudly and indignantly, "Um -- stereotyping??" And Charmaine wondered what happened to the Chinese family who ran her dry cleaners. "I am getting offended!" Said the genius behind me who clearly did not stop and think that these were actually real families in New Orleans? Hello? Then she continued, "What's next? Is she going to ask what happened to Apu?" That's when I turned to my friend and said, "Get up! We're moving." So she grabbed her purse and we hustled to some empty seats in the adjacent section. And from then on, the evening was smooth sailing of normal people who don't do anything in the audience but laugh and cry and applaud in the right places.

Highlights: Rosario Dawson & and an Eastern European actress performing the one about the young woman and violence in her village, who explained that the woman who told Ensler that story and on whom the monologue is based was in the audience. Seeing Amber Tamblyn come onstage, not knowing she would be there, and thinking in my head, "OMG Joan Girardi, OMG Joan Girardi, OMG, OMG." Hearing the insane reaction of the audience to the entrance of Jennifer Beals, who, along with Alex Hedison, Ilene Chaiken, and Daniela Sea (The L Word), was hilarious in the monologue about moaning. (Jennifer Beals is really as beautiful in real life as she is as Bette Porter, if that is humanly possible.) It was neat to see Jennifer Hudson, who looked great. She performed a monologue about loving being a girl. And I feel like she had the potential to BE great, but she held her cards so closely up to her nose that I wondered if she had not practiced at all? It was kind of weird. The other actresses had cards, but they only glanced at them sometimes and did not read straight off of them. Oh Jennifer Hudson. I know you have it in you! And Jane Fonda, the amazing Jane Fonda, who was the only person (I think) besides Ensler in the opening "I am worried about vaginas" monologue who went off-book. Not a card in her hand had Jane Fonda for "I Was There in the Room," probably my favorite of all of the classic vagina monologues. In case you don't know, this monologue was written about Eve Ensler being present in the room when the wife of her stepson, Dylan McDermott, gave birth. More on him later!

Now it is time to talk about Liz Mikel, otherwise known as Smash's mom on Friday Night Lights. I have been known to say when watching that show, "This episode could use some more Mama Smash." Which any episode of any show could, frankly. She is always wonderful on the show -- strong and tender and fierce all at the same time. I saw her walking in with the little parade of stars and I got very excited. She performed the "my vagina is angry" monologue, and it was funny and fantastic. I was so proud of Mama Smash and thought she was such a great addition to the night.

Meanwhile, I'd read that Oprah was going to be there to perform a new monologue that Ensler wrote in honor of women affected by Katrina. And sure, I was excited to see Oprah. Oprah is an event unto herself, you know? So when Liz Mikel came back to the stage late in the evening following an amazing gospel choir (Lois DeJean and the Voices of New Orleans) and said this was a new monologue in honor of a New Orleans woman named Patricia Henry, I wondered, "Hm. Isn't this the one Oprah was going to do?" But the thought left my head when Liz Mikel started performing this monologue. She had cards, sure, but she barely glanced at them. She embodied the spirit of this woman with her full mind, body, soul, and spirit. She was soft in the right places, mighty in the right places, angry in the right places, and so forth. It was called "Hey, Miss Pat!" and she told of the people who would come by and say that and ask her what she was cooking that day. And she talked about all of these people who were lost in or damaged by the storm. And I don't really know what to say other than when Ensler is good, she is great, and that Liz Mikel was unbelievable. By the time she was done, she was crying, and Ensler ran to the stage and embraced her, and then Ensler, whilst basically sobbing, called the real Patricia Henry to the stage, so she was escorted up there, and she was crying, and she and Liz Mikel held each other and rocked back and forth and wept, and Liz Mikel said, "God bless you, God bless you," and we were all on our feet and tears were streaming down thousands of faces, and it was just one of those transcendent moments in theater and in life.

A few minutes later, Eve Ensler, still totally overjoyed and overcome by Mikel's performance and the whole beautiful scene, said, "I guess you've figured out that Oprah couldn't here tonight," and she explained that Oprah was sick, and continued, "But I think we can all agree that seeing Liz Mikel was such a gift," and said something about how some things happen for a reason and we just have to let ourselves be carried by however the wind blows. And I mean, it was clear to her and to everyone, I would think, that there is no way that Oprah's performance would have been nearly as extraordinary as Liz Mikel's and that we were blessed to have experienced it. Right? Not long after, we decided to start making our way down to the car as Ensler was wrapping things up, and some people were clearly not as blissed out and zen about the whole thing as I was, because people were PISSSED about Oprah and about not being told until the very end. Which my sister assures me was a very reasonable reaction on their part, and maybe I am just so blindly in love with Mama Smash that I could not be fazed by Oprah's absence. Anyway.

And now for our up close and personal celebrity spotting of the night! As we neared the exit doors, out of the corner of my eye I noticed Dylan McDermott in jeans, a black leather jacket, and black Chuck Taylor sneakers hurriedly making his way to the door beside ours, and I crammed my mouth into my friend's ear and said, "Look to your right, RIGHT NOW," and she did, and her eyes flew wide open and we exited beside him as he totally speed-walked to wherever he was going, I guess to avoid being recognized (sort of funny considering how much, much bigger stars were there, but I guess they were not Among The Common People like he was for some reason), and he was very handsome if a little shorter than I imagined, and I thought for a fleeting moment about how I like him best as Leo Fish in Home for the Holidays. And he was holding the hand of a young girl with long hair whom I suspect was the girl whose birth inspired "I Was There in the Room," and I wondered how it must feel for her to hear something like that being performed by Jane Fonda, to hear about herself -- "first the little head, then the gray flopping arm, then the fast swimming body, swimming quickly into our weeping arms" -- and it was a nice, sort of mind-blowing, full-circle way to end the evening.

It was wonderful, and it was wonderful to spend an evening with my friend, and it was wonderful to be there, and I'm so very, very glad we went.

OMG, BUBLE

I cannot explain my thoughts about Michael Buble without prefacing with a little about my feelings about Harry Connick, Jr. Basically, I fell in love with Harry in 1989 at the age of 14. I first saw him in concert in the fall of 1990, and I still have my t-shirt from that show. The back was eaten through with holes by silverfish, and I still wear it sometimes to sleep. It is soft and thin and has his face on the front and the tour cities on the back. I bought every album he ever made until a few years ago, and I saw him in concert after that first time more times than I can honestly count. I saw him perform in big venues, small venues, and the Angola prison yard. I have loved him for approximately the past two decades of my life. It was Harry who taught me the great standards sung in past generations by Frank Sinatra, Nat King Cole, and so forth and inspired me to buy those albums, too. Basically, it was Harry who made me fell in love with the idea of someone crooning in front of a big band, and it's Harry who has always represented that kind of music for me.

So a few years ago, I guess 2004 or so? I went home with my friend K. to her parents' house in Lakeview for a party. Her mom was watching a DVD of some dude named Michael Buble and going on and on about how awesome he was. I was like, who is this Buble and who does he think he is? Harry Connick, Jr. hadn't been making his big band albums for a long time, of course, but in my mind, he was the modern embodiment of this music and no one else needed to bother to come along and do the same kind of thing. That was my first knowledge of Buble. A few years later, after K.'s parents lost their house and their business in Lakeview, along with her brother and his family, something inspired K. to make me copies of Buble's first two albums for me. She'd already seen him in concert a few times by then and basically insisted. I don't really remember what made me have a change of heart, but I've basically worn out those albums by now, and she gave me his most recent one for Christmas. When she invited me to come to his show last night with her and her mom and some of their old Lakeview neighbors who also lost everything, I said sure.

And I'm so glad I did. I owe my pal K. big for the invitation. We went out to dinner across the street from their old neighbor's new Warehouse District loft, which is completely awesome, but not awesome enough to keep her from wanting to rebuild in Lakeview as soon as possible. She is 74 years old. Much of the dinner conversation was peppered with talk about their neighborhood, their neighbors, things that were lost in the storm (the Buble DVD, for one), their new lives.

Highlights of the Buble concert:

We were at a vantage point where we were able to see him sneak into a floor seat, largely undetected, in a t-shirt, jeans, and baseball cap, to watch the opening band, Naturally 7. Everyone seemed very oblivious to this, but K. has Buble Radar, apparently. Three young teenaged girls noticed him eventually, as they were sitting right behind him, and did not hesitate to grab him around the neck and hug him with all their might. The silver-haired gentleman next to him eventually noticed, too, and shook his hand, but it was all very discreet. Three very hot girls in front of him noticed and took pictures of him with their camera phones. No one else really noticed, but that was enough for him and he went back to sit on a stool on the floor below the side of the stage, ducking as far out of sight as possible.

Early after exploding onto the stage for his first song, "I'm Your Man," he greeted the audience and gushed about his love for the Mother's po-boys he'd had earlier that day and welcomed his waitresses, whom he'd invited and who screamed and waved from their floor seats.

He interacted with the audience time after time, holding the microphone down for the crowd to sing along. I honestly don't know that I've ever been to a concert when the performer bent so far over backwards to include the crowd.

He seemed genuinely amazed that the last time he played in New Orleans, a month before Katrina, there were 1,100 people there, and now there were nearly 10,000. It's not that surprising to me considering he's about 10 times more famous now than he was then, but he seemed blown away that this had happened in New Orleans. He dedicated "Home" to the audience and the people of New Orleans, and immediately thousands of women reached for Kleenex in their purses. A few lines into the song, an image of an old Bourbon Street sign faded up on the giant video screens, and people clapped and cheered. The video reel of New Orleans images continued as he sang and people wept and embraced, and a shot of two big LSU flags hanging from a French Quarter balcony rail appeared, and the Arena full of very emotional people went completely bananas. It was somewhat awesome.

I already knew that Buble could clearly sing and had a great voice, but I had no idea that he is such a showman. If he does not have the absolute time of his life performing on stage, then he is the best faker I've ever seen. He oozed charisma and enthusiasm from every molecule in his body, from the tips of every hair on his head to the tips of his toes. It was a polished show, sure, as anything on a tour of this magnitude is, but it was never slick. You can't fake that kind of sincerity and joy and spontaneity onstage. At least that's what I choose to believe.

At one point during the show, he stopped and pointed to the three young teenaged girls we'd seen him being embraced by during the opening act. The camera man pointed at them, so their dumbsquizzled and ecstatic faces appeared on the screens. He had them shout out their names and ages and welcomed them and said, "Without young little cutie-pies like you keeping me straight, I'd turn into Amy Winehouse so fast ..." Then he ran down to take pictures with them, and he grabbed the silver-haired guy he'd sat next to during the opening act and gave him a huge kiss on the cheek.

He explained that he would secretly listen to the old big band artists on his walkman at school and not let anyone know because it wasn't cool. Then one day he saw a hot girl open her locker, which had a pin-up picture of Harry Connick, Jr. in it. He thought to himself, "I'm on the right track after all." It was nice of him, I thought, to give a little shout-out to Harry while playing in his hometown.

There were several encores; I lost count. Everyone was on their feet by the time "Save the Dance for Me" came along, which made me very happy. He finished by standing on the edge of the stage and singing with no musical accompaniment -- and no microphone -- "A Song for You." Everyone in the audience was silent and still, and he just sang it out so loudly and beautifully that I couldn't even believe how great it sounded considering that the Arena is not exactly Carnegie Hall.

I paid a lot for my ticket, but if I'd paid double that, it still would have been worth it because Buble gives you that much bang for your buck. I'm still in a state of stunned euphoria over the whole thing. I had to take the day off from work to recover, which I've spent so far grocery shopping, having lunch and shopping with my mom, and trimming more of my giant mutant shrubs.

I don't know what else to say. I don't even care what kind of a dog Buble might be in real life. His show was phenomenal. If you have the chance, you really just need to see for yourself.

Update!

So life has been busy. I'm not even sure all that has happened since my last post. I read Celebrity Detox because I love Rosie. I've been doing lots of homework and studying and spending lots of hours in the library, which incidentally is a good way to confront germophobia because what is more germy than a library book? I don't know. I thought my only new show was going to be Dirty Sexy Money, but then I went and watched Pushing Daisies, and it won me over in all of about two seconds. Which leaves my old favorites: How I Met Your Mother, which has thus far this season not thrilled me one bit, Brothers and Sisters, which is still excellent though I wish Rob Lowe would cease being orange, and, of course, Friday Night Lights.

As I mentioned before, my brother and I worked ourselves into quite a froth about the direction the show seems to be taking, and I won't say any more about it because my sister is in South America and not watching it yet, but two episodes in, I have come to terms with it and have accepted it and am moving on because I am not going to let one plotline ruin the joy that this show has brought me since the first second it aired. B., who caught up with season one on DVD, thank God, pointed me to this article in The New Yorker, and it's all true. (Warning: Huge spoiler about the end of season one in that article.) Connie Britton was so good in this week's episode that I was laughing and crying at the same time and I am asking you, when watching a TV show that you love, what is better than that?

This week I have many things to accomplish: two midterms, a history presentation, a research assignment, and about six billion pages to read. But I am not thinking about that right now.

B. and I decided to take twenty-four hours to escape from school, the pets, the house, the everything. We headed to the big city, stayed at The Columns, and just spent some beautiful hours walking around the French Quarter and Jackson Square and the river while the sun went down on pretty much the most beautiful day we've had so far in 2007. We had sazeracs on the Columns patio, and we had sazeracs in the courtyard of Lafitte's. We stopped at the Clover Grill and split a grilled cheese sandwich and tater tots at the counter. We walked down to the river and watched a beautiful man playing the saxophone at sunset. We ate a feta cheese, roasted red pepper, red onion, and BACON pizza at Angeli. The next morning, we ate a Columns breakfast and went to Magazine Street to shop at Scriptura, and I lost my wallet somewhere, and that was the only bad thing that happened during the entire 24-hour period of bliss of no studying, no library, no barking, and no worries.

(Some photos from the getaway are in this set.)

Thoughts before midnight

Tonight my little brother and I drove to our aunt's 70th birthday party. It took us way longer each way than it was supposed to because both times we took the wrong route. It took, like, ridiculously longer that it was supposed to. We had been driving for an hour or more when we came to the sign that said we had 61 miles left -- the trip is only supposed to take an hour and 20 minutes -- and we burst out laughing because it was all that we could do. We passed towns we'd never even heard of. It was surreal. I thought we were driving to the ends of the earth.

Here are some songs we sang to pass the time, either along with a CD or the radio. I just want to write them down so I will remember.

--The first CD of the Rent soundtrack (original Broadway cast). He went to see Les Miserables on Broadway recently, after Daphne Rubin Vega had left, and he said, "If I would have had to hear her sing 'I Dreamed a Dream,' I think I would have died."

--"Vogue" by Madonna.

--"Don't Take the Girl" by Tim McGraw.

--"Hold On" by Wilson Phillips.

Already I am forgetting all of the songs. It was pretty great to see our cousins, aunts, uncle, and so forth. My sister wanted to come but was felled by a horrid cold that I think was brought on by her body's revolt of being driven from New York city to here on very little sleep. Hopefully she is sleeping soundly and will feel better tomorrow because she surely needs to go out for a pizza bagel. Soon she will be out of this country and far too far away from me. I am choosing to ignore that at the moment.

I am sleepy but awake. Overwhelmed with uncertainty following a school orientation about what the hell I am doing taking these graduate classes and what it would really mean to change careers at this point in my life when I don't even know if I want to? What? The hell? Is the color? Of my freaking parachute? Feeling so amused by my little brother with whom I have so much utter fun. Feeling moved by all of the old photographs at my aunt's house and awash with memories of my late uncle standing over the stove making really good baked beans and watching my cousin get dressed for her wedding in an upstairs bedroom when I was eight years old. Telling her daughter this as the memory occured to me, wondering immediately after if it caused her hurt to tell her I watched her mother get dressed for the wedding to her father to whom she is no longer married. My cousin's daughter is a very sunshiney person, and I like her quite a lot. My other cousin showed me all of the wonderful artifacts in that upstairs bedroom -- the bed his father was born in that he is now sleeping in, a tackle box his father made as a little boy, an amethyst rock he stole from Pike's Peak one day in July when it was snowing, the toys belonging to his mother, my aunt, and her sister, my other aunt, that were found in his grandfather's car after he was killed in an automobile accident when the little girls were babies. That kind of stuff is what life is made of. They are "just things," but they are so precious.

It's all so precious. All of it, all of us.

Road Trip

Sometimes you decide that you are leaving the next day for a road trip. That happened to us on Thursday when my boyfriend decided we should go to Oxford and Memphis for the weekend as one last hurrah before life changes come about soon. So we did! And fun was had.

We left on Friday morning for Oxford, where we stayed at the too charming to be believed Puddin’ Place. I loved everything about it – the room, the bathroom, the porch – and renamed it Puddin’ Palace in my mind. It was an easily walkable distance from the square and was just lovely.

We had drinks on the balcony of City Grocery that afternoon and strolled around the square, stopping at Square Books, where I bought The Road, and Square Books, Jr., which Melissa would love and where I bought I Am the Messenger by Marcus Zusak, author of my beloved The Book Thief, after having a rousing conversation with the staff about His Dark Materials and all of the books they think I should read -- Octavian Nothing, House of the Scorpion, and Snowflower and the Secret Fan. (If anyone has read I Am the Messenger, can you please e-mail me? I feel like I really need to discuss it with someone as soon as possible.)

That night, we went back to City Grocery for dinner, which was very good except for the rabbit special. I am not really sure what possessed me to order rabbit for the first time in my life other than it was served with saffron risotto, which sounded really good to me at the time. I don’t know if rabbit is supposed to basically be made of fat and be pink and raw, but this rabbit sure was and I don’t believe I’ll ever be eating rabbit again. We shared an excellent salad and soup, though, so all was not horrifying at City Grocery.

The next morning, we had a great breakfast at Puddin’ Place – orange muffins, fruit/yogurt/granola parfait, and a great frittata. Overall, big thumbs up. We walked back to Square Books for a coffee and one last bask in its comfortable and wonderful atmosphere. Then we drove to Rowan Oak, the home of William Faulkner. Which was quiet, peaceful, pretty, in the middle of the woods, and totally cool.

We said what the hell on our way into Memphis and decided to stop at Graceland before going to our hotel. Graceland was the opposite of Rowan Oak. It was just … Graceland. If you’ve been there, you know what I’m talking about. We bought our tickets and milled around for an hour and a half before we could line up for our shuttle across the street. Then we waited in line for a while. Then we went on the tour. Which was all very neat-o but also kind of gross and sweaty. The horses were pretty. My favorite thing was a petition framed on the wall of signature after signature of people asking Elvis to play in Brooklyn. Graceland was exhausting. We did eat a garden burger (me) and a peanut butter and banana sandwich (him) in Rockabilly’s, which was random but fun. We agreed that we put more into Graceland than we got out of it and that we will never go back but that we definitely had to go. (For a much more entertaining account of Graceland, go here.)

We then checked into our somewhat gross and quite plain hotel room at the Sleep Inn, but it was the only one downtown for under $100, so there you go. The afternoon is kind of a blur of hotness. What did we do? Where did we eat? I don’t even know. Oh, yeah. We walked down Beale Street to scope out the scene and I got a giant strawberry snowball, which I spilled all over myself.

At around 5:00, we headed to the lobby of the Peabody to watch the ducks process into the elevator, which was quite cute. For dinner, we headed to Rendezvous, where approximately one million people had come also to dine, but the whole operation of the mob was run very smoothly. We only had to wait about thirty minutes for settling down for dinner, where we ate ribs and barbeque chicken nachos and pretty much went into a barbeque fugue state with dazed eyes and sauce on our faces. Damn, that was some good barbeque.

We went up to the roof of the Peabody to check out the sunset and then we cruised around Beale Street before going to Blues Hall to hear Dr. Feelgood Potts and his band play. They were pretty awesome. We also spent a fair amount of time in A. Schwab’s, the oldest business on Beale Street, a store which seemed to have everything and nothing and which I loved very much.

Soon it was time to collapse and get up the next morning for Sun Studio! We decided to walk there and ended up pretty lost and blind in the scorching sunlight, one desolate block after the next. We stood on a corner debating whether to find a cab (his vote) or walk back to the hotel in defeat before getting mugged (my vote) when suddenly a bright blonde woman named Sally in an SUV with a W sticker on the back stopped to offer us a ride. We hopped in with her and her two beautiful daughters and they drove us right over. It was truly one of those angels on earth moments and reminded me that Bush people are people, too. Thank you, Sally of Memphis! All I can really say about Sun Studio is that it beats Graceland by a mile. (Read the Lesters’ account here.) I really loved this tour and felt way more into the spirit of Elvis and the birth of rock and roll than I did at Graceland, and our guide, Shawnie, did a fabulous job. This is the sort of tour that gives you chills. I recommend it.

And now we are home. And as of yesterday, home = a place we live together. Holy shit! He is starting a new path in life, and we’ll be living in the same city for the first time. I’m excited. I’m glad that we got to hang out with the ghosts of William Faulkner, Elvis Presley, Johnny Cash, and so forth before settling into this new existence. I like to think they are singing to us from the great beyond and wishing us luck.

Pie for days

I spent most of the weekend eating slice after slice of my boyfriend's homemade strawberry pie. I'm a big fan of strawberry pie, as it turns out.

Let's see ... we went out to our favorite Asian restaurant on Friday night. He had honey wasabi shrimp, and I had shrimp with tomatoes, peppers, onions, and pineapple. For dessert, we had strawberry pie and pistachio ice cream. We started The Illusionist.

On Saturday morning, we had cereal for breakfast, stopped at the coffee shop for a granita, and headed out to a festival. This was our first visit to this festival. It's a lot smaller than Jazz Fest, and it was fun to walk around downtown, check out musical acts from Belgium, Finland, and Mexico, and eat festival food like a pink lemonade snowball and crawfish maque choux.

We got back to town, went to a backpacking store, and went home, where I made chicken stroganoff for dinner, inspired by this post of Jackie's. I liked it, but I thought it could have used some cayenne pepper or something to make it a little more fiery. We had more pie and more pistachio ice cream for dessert. Also, we finished The Illusionist, which I definitely do not recommend. It was terrible. Maybe not quite as terrible as The Holiday, but close. It was boring and ridiculous, and I felt embarrassed for all of the actors. Except for Jessica Biel because I don't expect anything better from her. But Edward Norton and Paul Giamatti are really good actors! How are they not mortified to have appeared in this nonsense? Argh. And we also watched Hollywoodland, which I liked but did not love, while playing a game of Scrabble. I thought everyone in this one did a great job, especially Adrian Brody and Ben Affleck, and I thought my beloved Diane Lane was a little over the top, but I still liked her performance.

On Sunday morning, we went to the coffee shop, sat outside, ate a white chocolate raspberry scone and a whole wheat bagel with veggie cream cheese, and read the paper. Soon it was time for him to go home. I did some chores like hedge trimming, went grocery shopping, lay around watching episodes of How I Met Your Mother online, and so forth. I took the dogs on a walk that went awry when Daisy got out of her collar and took off like a rocket after a cat and I ended up trespassing in someone's backyard and ultimately cornering her, which was not an easy task. It's always an odd moment when Zuko's the dog that comes out like the angel of the situation.

Last night, I was watching The Riches, and I had a flashback to when Minnie Driver was on The Rosie O'Donnell Show and she and Rosie sang "Truly Scrumptious" in harmony. It made me really like Minnie Driver from that moment on. I wasn't sure about this show at first, but I've decided that I like it. And I really wish I could find a clip online of them singing, because it was adorable. Truly, I probably still have it on tape somewhere, so maybe I'll dig it out.

I am trying to turn over a healthy new leaf this week. I've been packing on the pounds since finishing the half-marathon training and skipping my crazy exercise class for a few weeks, and I've also been eating like an out-of-control lunatic. It really has to stop. It was almost exactly a year ago that I started Couch to 5K, and I somehow completed that (9 weeks), One Hour Runner (10 weeks), and training for the half-marathon (16 weeks), but I find myself floundering when it comes to health and fitness right now. After missing class for a couple of weeks, getting back into it has been so difficult. It might be because the temperature has been pushing 90 lately, and it feels like it's about 190 in the class. I was doing some move with an exercise bar where you lie on your back and hold it over your head and then do a sit-up with it and on the bar's way back over my head, I hit myself in the nose. Dazed, I reached for my nose and thought it was gushing blood, but the dripping liquid was just a river of sweat! Delightful. I really want to commit to doing the class three times a week and throwing in a day or two of running in there for good measure. And start eating more healthy foods. Just as soon as I finish this strawberry pie.

Babies and witches

Here are some things that have happened since last I wrote.

I got back from New York and plunged into a pretty busy week at work.

My friend had her second baby, and today is her one week birthday. She is Shelley's and my co-godchild, and she's an adorable little bundle of cute with black hair. My friend birthed her like a champ. Tonight I went to visit them, we had sushi, her three-year-old made up a dance to her Big Sister Dora doll's song, I held the baby and smelled her head a lot, and we watched Alanis Morrissette sing "My Humps." Birth and new life are very beautiful and miraculous to me but also very Discovery Channelish, like, hello, we are totally animals.

My boyfriend came to town, and we went out for an excellent Nepalese dinner. We also watched Lost Boys of Sudan, and I find myself still wondering about Peter and Santino.

I went on a 24-hour road trip with my old friend Eva. Somehow we ended up renting this car. Which was very amusing. It would have been great to actually put the top down à la Thelma and Louise as my boyfriend called us, but it rained the entire time both there and back. Oh, well. We went to Houston to see Wicked, and we had a good time. The nice thing about traveling with Eva is that we know all of the same Broadway soundtracks by heart and like singing the songs loudly and proudly, so we belted our way through Rent, Spring Awakening, The Last Five Years, Jesus Christ Superstar, Miss Saigon, Joseph & the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, and so forth. We also hit a few highlights from Aspects of Love. My favorite part of our songfest was when Eva, she of the deep singing voice, became Caiaphas. It seemed fitting with Holy Week approaching and everything.

We found our hotel, a shockingly nice Holiday Inn Express (I thought we were staying in more of a motel), showered, drove to the theater, parked, and walked umbrella-less in the rain to Sake Lounge at the Angelika. We had wonton soup, edamame, and a few sushi rolls. Eva kicked off her heels and had two cosmopolitans, which I enjoyed watching her enjoy. She has two little kids and this weekend was a rare un-mom outing for her. Our seats for the show weren't together so we split up, her in row three of orchestra left and me in row five of orchestra right.

As for the show, what can I say? I've wanted to see it for a long time even though there are songs on the soundtrack I always skip and had never heard all the way through until seeing it live. I guess the main problem with the Wicked tour is that there is no way that anyone's voice is ever going to live up to Idina Menzel's. It's just impossible. That said, I thought that Victoria Matlock was good, particularly her acting. There were times when her voice seemed kind of weak and quiet, but that could have been because it was tired or an audio issue. When she had to belt, she definitely belted, and it was very good. Christina DeCicco played G(a)linda, and her singing pipes were very impressive. I was extremely annoyed by her acting at first as I did not expect G(a)linda to be such a bouncing, spastic lunatic, but maybe that's how Kristen Chenoweth created the character -- not sure. She eventually grew on me. Honestly, I thought the best female voice belonged to Deedee Magno Hall, who played Nessarose. I think she'd make a kick-ass Elphaba. Her real-life husband, Cliffton Hall, was a decent Fiyero. His acting was good, but his voice was just okay. He kind of reminded me of a more traditionally handsome Mark Ruffalo type, actually. He and Matlock did have good chemistry. The whole production impressed, definitely, but I would definitely suggest NOT sitting on the side. Try to get in the center section, even if you are farther back. It's really kind of a downer to see the stuff happening in the wings. I tried not to look, but when I saw crew guys in jeans and t-shirts setting up lights or Fiyero climbing on the rope before swinging out on stage, for example, it kind of killed the moment.

And now a word about the audience. Good God almighty. There were college girls behind me who laughed hysterically every time the flying monkeys were onstage. I had no idea why. It would be when nothing funny was happening, they were just being the flying monkeys. It made me hate them. But that hate was sunshine and flowers compared to my loathing for the two fools next to me. They were a young engaged couple if her ring was any indication, and they were mostly fine during the first act, but despite many signs posted forbidding food and drinks to be brought into the theater, these two raging assclowns strolled in after intermission with coke cans, cups of ice, and candy bars. This worried me. I hoped they would finish them before the curtain rose. But no. They were just getting started. They popped open their coke cans, poured their coke into the cups, and proceeded to rip their giant Kit Kat and peanut M&Ms open and eat them with abandon. I think they must have thought they were at home, right? Surely they could not have realized that they were sitting in a beautiful, pristine theater surrounded by people who had paid $100+ for their tickets with a professional Broadway touring company onstage. They took no care in not crackling their candy paper and in fact chewed not only their candy (peanut M&Ms are loud, I mean LOUD) but their ICE. I started clenching so angrily that I had to keep telling myself to ignore them and not let it ruin my experience, but it was hard. It was really hard for me. I don't know what this says about me as a person but I was so enraged. Once their feeding frenzy was over, I was able to relax a little bit, and the girl started cracking her knuckles. Knuckle by knuckle. Did she have the courtesy to wait until a really loud song and dance number started up? No. She cracked them through every quiet moment. I wanted to kill her! And to top off their extravaganza of rudeness, they didn't even pick up their cups, cans, and candy wrappers when they left. They left them on the floor. And of course I stood up and accidentally kicked a half-empty coke can over, and it poured out toward the stage in a sticky puddle. I was so disgusted and also embarrassed because more than one theatergoer making their exit saw me kick it over and I just stood there helplessly and I know they thought it was my goddamn coke. Anyway, rude couple, I hope you never set foot in another theater, and I hope you spend a horrible lifetime annoying each other with your inconsiderate ways and then go straight to hell!

I don't mean to be so crazy angry about it, but I am getting angry all over again just sitting here thinking about it. When you go to a movie, sadly enough, you expect people to be answering their cell phones, cutting up, and generally acting like hooligans. But when you pay so much for your ticket, and you've driven almost 300 miles to get there, and you've waited to see this show forever, and you're surrounded by little girls in their best dresses who are staying up way past their bed times and are so excited they look like they might explode and yet are behaving like complete angels, it's really just maddening to sit next to a bunch of grown-assed idiots who have exactly zero awareness of their surroundings or regard for the fact that (a) for some people, this is a very special occasion or (b) some people are going to have to come along behind them and clean up their nasty mess. It just really kind of makes me sick.

But I am really trying to let it go and focus on the fact that we had a great trip, I got to spend time with an old friend, and for the most part, the show was really good. It was not some kind of transcendent emotional experience like Spring Awakening was for me, but it was certainly entertaining.

I've also been faithfully going to my crazy exercise class and trying not to die during it. Last night I was trying to balance and do lunges on the Bosu ball and fell ass over teakettle, which was delightful. The very, very, very, very fit superstar woman in my group laughed at me, but I like to think it was with affection. It's so weird to experience the group exercise dynamic after running solo for the past year or so. I still haven't mastered the jump rope, but I'm working on it. And Shelley will be proud to know that I am now brave enough to stand up on the bike! It's crazy, I know.

A nice weekend is on the horizon, thankfully, and meanwhile I'm just going to try to work, work out, attempt to post this entry even though a cat is lying on my forearm, finish Human Croquet, and try not to overdose on my latest addiction, Milk Duds.