So I mentioned these girls are helping me relive my 20s, but last night was one friend’s birthday, and what we did to celebrate last night took me back to high school. Big time.

We went to the Village Vanguard. Best jazz club in the city. Monday nights the Vanguard Jazz Orchestra performs. They’re Grammy winning; they’re magnificent. We went to their 11pm gig. I was so glad my friend is a jazz lover and we were able to love jazz with her.

Experiencing live music with this chick is so much fun. She’ll analyze it and describe it, and I’ll just listen to her talk about music forever. Seriously. Also? She plays the trumpet. And just about every other instrument in the world.

Besides being musical, this girl is funny and fun and a fiercely loyal friend. She knows what she knows. And she knows it beyond the shadow of a doubt. And she knows it with more heart than anyone I know. And I know people with heart. She takes the cake. Today, it was cupcakes. Four of them. Hope the wish you made comes true.

Yeah, she’s totally one of those who excels in everything she does.

Don’t piss her off, though: she’ll cuss at you in her mind.

Thanks for the nostalgia. Thanks for your friendship I’m not worthy to have. Happy birthday.

Sunday Chatter

Last night, I took part in the most mature conversation about sex, perhaps in the history of the universe. It was with a married couple and some other singles. It was remarkable. In a world that cheapens and downplays it, this discussion was wholesome and insightful, and it truly edified me. Thank you, married couple, for your boldness. And your honesty. And the ease with which you offered your wisdom. I hope my marriage is as amazing and steady and strong as yours.


So the sky unzipped and the rain fell through it and static lit it up and expanded it so it popped, or boomed.

I closed my eyes and enjoyed it, the cool air, the wet drops, the pyrotechnics: percussion at every level. It was a concert of the most exquisite music, appealing to all my senses.

Consider the musician, after all.

The trees are budding; the daffodils and other bulbs are peeking through the soil. Green is starting to pop up in little places. Green is so cute right now. In about a month, green is going to be downright sexy.

Spring is awesome.

Before My Sunday Nap



Oh, Sunday. How I love thee and those quiet afternoons which beckon me like a righteous siren to slumber. Naps are nice.

So I have this talk that I gave about three weeks ago. Speaking in church makes me very nervous, and so I wrote the whole thing out. It’s maybe 5 minutes long, there’s no room for tangents or anecdotes; I had in mind that the other seminary teachers were speaking, and I wanted to keep it short. I tried choosing my words carefully, and I tried staying true to the topic, which was the blessings of seminary and regular scripture study. I gave the talk, I sat down, I let it alone. I wondered if it helped people. It was the day we turned our clocks ahead, so that made me nervous. I don’t know.

I’ve been thinking about it since. Some friends have wanted me to deliver this talk because they weren’t able to attend that meeting. And then some things are popping up in seminary that contradict what I presented in my talk. And it’s not like none of that is my fault. I can’t talk about it here. The only people who should take part in this discussion are my seminary class.

Anyway, I haven’t yet been able to read this talk to my friends. And I’ve been thinking about just posting it here, because this is where my writing goes to settle down and sometimes rest. My writing likes napping, too. But I like my friends, and I wonder if they’d feel jilted if I didn’t read it to them. I mean, other things have come up; a good time to be spiritual outside of church hasn’t presented itself. But it’s not like we couldn’t create that kind of situation, either. But, it’s not like the talk was anything new or profound. Still, it did come from my heart.

I think I’ll just let it be.

Today has been quite fabulous. Church every Sunday just brings it. The social interaction is nice, but it’s good to discuss deep and important and spiritual things. The learning and growing and nurturing of our souls that goes on is incredible. The friends I have who share the same beliefs are a tremendous support.

And, maybe today, I talked to more guys than girls, but the deeper dialogue was with the women. And they’re women who are funny and charming and so intelligent it’s ridiculous, and I totally want to be them because they inspire and stimulate my brain and I feel … twinkled just by being around them.

It was fun sitting between the guys during Sunday school, though. For some reason that helps when that happens every once in a while.

So, as you know, I was sick last week. This week, I have a residual, persistent cough. This happens often after having a cold or some other respiratory infection. Then a couple of weeks later, I’ll still be coughing, more out of habit than a result of being ill.

So maybe this cough that’s become second nature can be likened to my gospel behavior. Maybe circumstances are such that I have to do this unpleasant thing, but it’s a purgatory thing, ultimately beneficial. And then I find I’m still doing this thing, involuntarily, subconsciously, because it’s what I’ve constantly been doing for weeks.

But then again, sometimes, I want to be more deliberate about it. But sometimes, it happens – out of my control, and it’s just better that way.

Just like this nap I’m about to take.

“You’re all washed up when Poseidon has his day”

This is some relatively new Indigo Girls. How do people do it? How do they come up with fresh and powerful stuff after decades of writing? Or is that what it takes, years and years of writing and hoping, just hoping, something worthy or gratifying pops up here and there? I already know the answer. It never hurts to keep asking the question. Always keep asking the question.

They sound quite good here. I love their harmonies. I dig when they do their countermelodic, polyphonic magic. And the writing. Goodness gracious, people. I’m letting out a mind-boggled, awestruck, cathartic sigh right now. Wow.

I get to see them in a couple of weeks. Is anyone going to go for the extra ticket? I mean, they’re coming back to Central Park Summerstage in June, but does anyone else want to be there when I see them for the very first time?

The way Amy Ray moves with her guitar in this video reminds me a little of the way my little brother swayed with his electric bass back when he had a band. This probably means my brother is a lesbian.

Vodpod videos no longer available.

more about “Indigo Girls – FLEET OF HOPE“, posted with vodpod





Ignore the Last Minute and a Half

So, I’ve decided to revisit India Arie. She’s kind of R&B, and she’s catchy and a little preachy and politically aware and extremely passionate. I like her.

This song makes me wanna move. If I were to come up with a playlist dedicated solely to my man – you know, once I get a man – maybe this is one of the songs I’d play for him. Yes, I can see myself lip synching and shimmying in front of him, dancing like a fool, him looking at me like he knows, having a grand ol’ time. It’s one of those feelgood love songs. And you know I’m such a sucker for those. Like “Rainbow Connection” and “Walking on Sunshine.” Hmm. Those have to do with weather. This song is about therapy. Folks, now I must look for a happy love song about Seasonal Affective Disorder. Kind of combine the two ideas. Yes.

Vodpod videos no longer available.

more about “India Arie Therapy“, posted with vodpod


Feedback Capers

The arts festival submission deadline is April 1. Some easy conclusions have come from feedback I’ve received so far. Choose your own adventure, and check the cut to see where your path leads:

A. Who is this? That’s the little girl in the masthead? All I was doing was following tags about cookies, and this is NOT where I expected to end up.

B. It takes way too much energy to CLICK on a LINK with a MOUSE. How many links are there? 97? How about let’s click on that X at the corner of this window?

C. I love this! She writes on a blog that I can read for free? Every day? That’s so cool!

D. How needy. Blogs are already self-indulgent. Now, she’s fishing for compliments. And, can’t she make her own decisions?

Continue reading

Periodic Table of Girl Scout Cookies

Scene: My cubicle. Afternoon. Various papers and files lying in piles, some neat, some not so neat. Computer. Two monitors. Keyboard. Mouse. An old color copy of the periodic table hangs from two clips stuck in the fabric walls.

Hey, May. So, you wanna order Girl Scout Cookies?

Without a moment’s hesitation and with a slight smirk, Yes, please.


You have a periodic table?

Yes, but I haven’t looked at it in a long time.

I look at the order form. They have new dulce de leche cookies.

What’s the symbol for …

Come on, it’s been since high school.

… gold?


… silver?


… copper?

Cu, as I check off a box of Samoas

… iron?


… tungsten?

I roll my eyes. W. I want tagalongs, too.

… lead?


… tin?

Sn. I check off 1 box of the classic Thin Mints.


Okay, I’m done with my order. Three boxes.



I appreciate that he tried asking me the “hard” ones, where the letters of the symbols don’t exactly correspond to the English names of the elements.

The periodic table has nice, straight lines, a neat, orderly structure according to valance shells. Especially reactive elements on the sides, the inert gases on the far right side. Hi, noble gases!

The Girl Scout Cookie order form wasn’t too dissimilar. A lot of the same colors as the periodic table. Beautiful pictures of the cookies to the left with perfect descriptions beneath them. The ordering grid on the right: write your name on the blank , write the number of boxes you want under the cookie names, and try not to have that number greater than 1, or maybe two. I held it to one box each of three kinds of cookies. Restraint, people.

Mendeleev. He or his people probably created the Girl Scout Cookie order form. And I couldn’t help but order three boxes of cookies WHILE rattling off the correct symbols of elements from the periodic table. Brilliant, I tell you. Simply brilliant.

Things I Maybe Shouldn’t Have Done In the Past Few Days

(I’m gonna head all these up by saying I shouldn’t have even stepped outside. Seriously. It only gets worse every time I leave the building.)

-gone to church, though that would have meant I wouldn’t have been to the incredible meetings which ended in a splendid, joyous weepfest

-held a baby, and I apologize to the mom for holding her even though I’m sick. But, it was a sleeping baby, and I couldn’t resist, but then the baby woke, and I didn’t want to hold her on my shoulder, close to my face, so I gave her back to the mom, and I felt better when someone healthy could comfort her.

-lingered longer after church. Being cooped up in the apartment against my will has made me crave some social interaction, but I saw a few people there I wanted to hug, because they were sad.

-gone to dinner at a friend’s place (without a jacket). It was a relatively pleasant day in the afternoon. I shouldn’t actually have accepted the invitation to dinner, but these were some of my favorite people, and it was hard to say no.

-gone outside yesterday. But that would have meant I probably wouldn’t have gotten to see some friends for yet another week that I really wanted to see.

I’m very glad I saw them.

So, while I should be taking care of myself, I really miss people. My life has been so much about me lately, and I guess it needs to keep being about me until I get better. Consider all the hugging I couldn’t do, or comforting babies, or sharing food, or giving backrubs. Those are things I’m pretty good at, and my being sick benefits no one.

What I will do now is bundle up and go to the store and pick up some juice and a nice herbal tea and something electrolytic and perhaps something chocolate. Yes.

I should have done that long before now.