There is so much I want to write about.
I want to write about how I have gotten so many great travel tips from my readers that I feel like I owe an email to everyone in the world and that I don't know how I would be planning this trip without them (you).
I want to write about how two weeks from yesterday, work will have slowed so dramatically that we all might grind to a screeching halt, turn to salt, and disintegrate.
I want to write about how my mom is about to leave for three weeks and about how my sister is about to leave for the summer and then for three years.
I want to write about how far away I am from all of my books, and how I bought six more for a quarter apiece like this and this and this and this and this and this at a neighborhood book sale on my grandmother's birthday, and how she would approve of our spending her birthday that way.
I want to write about how I love Mary Chapin Carpenter's new album so much. Entertainment Weekly calls this album "a dashboard light for life's dark roads." And that's what her music has been for me, for as long as I remember.
I want to write about how the knob that controls the water going into my house is leaking and causing a giant pool of water to form right up against the slab of my house and how I am convinced that it's going to rot my house from the inside out.
I want to write about how I could not wipe the stupid grin off of my face throughout the entire broadcast of the Tony Awards. And about how sad I am to see that the ratings have reached an all-time low. I only hope this doesn't mean that CBS will drop the show, because I would cry if I knew that for one night every year I could get a taste of all of those faraway shows. I did not think it was possible for me to love Hugh Jackman more than I already did, but I was wrong. His talent just oozes out of every pore in his beautiful body and explodes out the top of his head. You have not lived until you have seen him giggle through perfect high kicks with the Rockettes. I just have to sit there and blink in stupefied awe when he starts singing and dancing and kicking and sashaying. I can scarcely process it. I've watched his musical numbers and "It Sucks to Be Me" from Avenue Q repeatedly, and I've started to analyze the choreography of the puppets, who fascinate me. I wish I could fly up to New York and see Avenue Q right now.
What I love most about the Tonys is how the winners are almost always so moved and touched and shocked and exuberant and it really is like you're seeing people's dreams come true when they win. When Idina Menzel won, I could hardly stand it. Seeing Taye Diggs wipe tears away from his cheeks for her and hearing her thank her beautiful husband for telling her he loves her every time she feels like the biggest loser on earth brought me instantly back to eight years ago when they performed together on the Tonys for Rent and she was nominated as Maureen and it was like worlds were colliding. I was happy that Kristen Chenoweth was so happy for her and reminded myself not to feel bad for her because she's already won for playing Sally Brown. I loved seeing John "You're the hero in this story, son!" Rubenstein sign as he presented the clips of Big River. I've since found out that he once played Tateh in Ragtime, which I would have paid cash money to see. Jesus! I could write so much more about the Tonys, but Melissa and Kymm have already done a bang-up job. The Tonys just bowl me over.
About this time in ...
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