-
- I have to admit, I was a little apprehensive about seeing Trey Anastasio last night in Albany, NY. Since the demise of Phish, I am way out of practice seeing bands I don’t know all that well. I’ve spoiled myself with music I know every word to. I’ve spoiled myself with music I love every word of, too.
- Trey started the show with a little tribute to New Orleans with a percussion/horn parade right down the center of the Palace Theater. He came right by our seats, grinning like a mad man. He obviously was having a great time dancing and weaving his down the aisle banging on a cowbell. The whole night was high energy and HiHowAreYou people. Every song had a good balance of horns, drums, vocals, and fun. I spent a lot of time watching Mr. Percussion with his funny furry faux fez. He had a big ring of bells which he would randomly throw high into the air (for Attitcus).
The drummer bored me. No spunk in his seat, no heavy moves. He sat there and played. There was only one moment that had me really excited – his kick was so thumping I could feel it in my sternum. My drink vibrated in my hand and all was right in my world. I wanted him to hold the cymbal and come up under it, hard. Bam. Bam. Bam. But, it didn’t happen. He kicked it but not that hard.
I’m waiting to see if the reviews mention the lighting at all. Up until Jiboo it was a stellar, blinding light show. Colored lights, flashing lights, strobe lights, spot lights, you name it. During Jiboo the stage went black and everyone played in the dark for what seemed like forever. J & I speculated, was it a stunt? Why would they play in the dark unless they were going to wow us with something cool when the lights came up again? J thought every musician would switch places – like Trey did when he was with Phish one April Fools Day. I thought something bigger – the members of Phish could suddenly appear when the lights came back up. A reunion of sorts…No such luck. When the lights were restored the music went on (and on) uninterrupted as if nothing happened.
During some of the songs my attention floated away and I found myself either watching the soundboard (we were right behind it) or the audience around me. Several seats ahead of me, two rough and tough, aging-in-their-sixties Deadheads argued about something. They took turns invading personal space and gesturing wildly. Directly right in front of me two underaged, skinny, pants-too-low, pimply boys chugged smuggled in alcohol, smoked and swayed. At one point they lost something. I stared in fascination as they used their cell phones to light the floor and searched frantically for whatever got away from them.
But, back to the music. For the new song, I liked A Case of Ice and Snow. It was a sit down and take a load off song, but lyrically it got to me. For the old favorite, Heavy Things was awesome. It reminded me of riding the shuttle in Colorado’s airport, heading home after a week of Rocky Mountain fun. - 12/29/06 (Fri) Palace Theatre – Albany, NY
- Set 1: Percussion Parade > Cayman Review, Peaches en Regalia (something for Greg my husband whispered to me), Shine, Simple Twist Up Dave, What’s Done, Drifting, Wherever You Find It, Spin, The Landlady, Tuesday, Come (Karmic? Chronic? Carmel?) as MelodySet 2: For some reason the couple next to us left so Pez got to hang out in our row. Curlews Call > Plasma (awesome, awesome! Three guys joined on percussion. What’s better than four guys with sticks?) , Dragonfly (interesting), Heavy Things (finally! Something from Farmhouse – my favorite), Love is Freedom (love is patient, love is kind…), Gotta Jiboo, A Case of Ice and Snow, Last Tube, E: Push On ’til the Day
Medecins Sans Frontieres
A while back ago I thought it would be interesting to write about all the different charities that call, write or email me looking for a donation of time or money. It’s only appropriate that I start with Medecins Sans Frontieres. They contacted me first, hoping to start their 2007 campaign early.
Doctors Without Borders is by far my favorite charity out there. Here are the quick stats:
- Formed in 1971 by a group of French doctors, the organization seeks to aid those in need worldwide (hence, the “sans frontieres”).
- They are open about where the money goes: in 2005 most of the funds went to program activities (which is the the norm). The rest went towards management and fundraising.
- DWB’s goal is to direct 85% or more of spending to relief progams and have done so since 1995.
- DWB goes where the conditions are the worst, the most dangerous – Rwanda, Chad, Darfur, the Ivory Coast…
- In 1999 DWB was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize.
- In 2004 The Discovery channel exposed the world to the work of DWB through the voice of Kiefer Sutherland and the visuals of Crisis Zone
I have been donating to DWB for eight years now. I was introduced to their work after reading a bio on a volunteer doctor from Australia who traveled to a dark jungle country. That’s what grabbed me: the without borders part. This Australian went to a country where he was instantly an outsider just by the color of his skin. The conditions were incomfortable at best, consistantly dangerous at worst. A country in a state of civil unrest. Hundreds of such giving people travel to foreign parts of the world, leaving behind comforts both psychological and physical. It’s hard to ignore people doing such good things.
For further reading:
Hope in Hell
Blog Bogged
In this blog saturated world it is incredibly easy to develop a complex, whether you are a reader or a writer. With so many on-line blatherings to read from I know I find myself asking not only, “why do you read me?” but, “how did you find me in the first place?” Throw in statistical capabilities and that only adds fuel to the inquisitive yet insecure fire. Like slugs to beer, surely this is our downfall and doom. It’s like we are contestants in a popularity contest – it all comes down to the numbers. It’s a source of sheer fascination when you think, no, you absolutely know your babblings are boring beyond your scope of belonging…yet someone reads you.
I know why some people read me. It’s their only way of staying in touch with me. My explanation for dropping out of sight, for not showing up, undoubtedly will be here. People check here for my pulse. As for other blogs and bloggers, I’m not sure. Over the weekend I was treated to a humorous story of supposed blog stalking – told from the stalking side of the fence. An individual discovers a blog and, for reasons known only to the individual, finds it interesting…really interesting. This isn’t the funny part. People stumble on blogs all the time and they return again and again because something fascinates them. In this case it was the blogger’s reaction to the sudden popularity that had me giggling…and taking notes.
The author not only felt stalked to the verge of violated, she felt the need to publicly protest the new traffic to her site. Didn’t I do the same thing? It totally reminded me of my own situation just a few months ago. Didn’t I freak out about a reader? Call it self-censorship but now I won’t write about things too sensitive for others to read. My perception of the threshold, the tolerance level, of criticism is different from what it actually is for some. I don’t trust my words around the hearts of others…(well, except Now & Zen. I know if I complain that my arms kill after a class or a pose really frustrated me the owner won’t take it personally to the point of hatred).
What I could say to the offended, as well as myself is this ~ I can completely understand your reaction to being read. The numbers are intimidating. But, here’s the thing: you are on the Internet, otherwise known as the WORLD wide web. It’s the bulletin board to the masses. Like it or lump it, people will read you for whatever reason. I know I have.
All Souls’ Rising (with Disappointments)
Bell, Madison Smartt. All Souls’ Rising. New York: Vintage Books, 1995.
I’m having a love/hate relationship with this book. Only 110 pages into it I waiver between devouring it and chucking the whole thing across the room. The first chapter opens with a description of a women nailed to a pole. She is being punished for killing her child. She drove a nail through her newborn’s skull. Lemme back up – she’s a slave and she was raped on a ship bound for Haiti. The year is 1757. Need I say more? When the woman finally dies, her feet, hands and head are chopped off and displayed as an example for other slaves. Some example! As a rule, I don’t get “into” historical fiction, especially those with such a political, violent underbelly. However, this is a Booklust book and I’m bound to at least give it a try. When I started this venture I agreed to Pearl’s 50 Page Rule (stop reading if by 50 pages you can’t get into it). In All Souls’ Rising‘s case, when I got to page 50 I was in the love phase and couldn’t put it down. C’est la vie.
Booklust Twist: Pearl labels this, “novelistic history” of Haiti (More Book Lust p55)
12/30/06: Update~ I am admitting defeat with Bell’s book. After the slave uprising it has been nothing but vivid descriptions of violence. I think this book is responsible for my week’s worth of nightmares about war. Here’s an excerpt. I warn you, this is one of the tamest scenes of cruelty!
“He cut a bracelet all around Maltrot’s wrist, just above the thong that bound it to the branch. He made a vertical incision into the palm and turned back the flaps of the skin from the whitish fatty layer underneath and began peeling it back towards the fingertips as if he were slowly taking off a glove…” (are you getting the picture?)…”Maltrot ground his teeth and bit his lips until the blood ran freely, but finally he could not contain the scream and when it came it was large and loud enough to split the sky.” (p235)
I realize flaying, raping, torturing, murdering, baby impaling, etc is common in times of war. It’s happening today. My problem is Bell. He is such the amazing storyteller that not only do I believe every eye gouging, I can almost feel it too!
BookLust Twist: Found in Pearl’s More Book Lust under the chapter, “The Contradictory Caribbean: Paradise and Pain” (p.55). She wasn’t kidding.
Commercially Crazy (old post)
It has turned out to be a miserable week. Let me count the ways: I am coming down with a cold, my blistered heel isn’t healing so I haven’t been able to run, I haven’t seen my husband in three – count ’em – three days, work has me boggled (again), I’m not going to Ruth’s funeral, I have to see a doctor about a suspicious “lump” under my jaw, I’m lost without my music, and did I mention I haven’t seen my husband? That last one is the killer. I hate eating alone. I abhor going to bed alone. I detest watching television alone.
But, here’s the thing about watching tv ~ I’m finding the commercials highly entertaining.
I saw stealth in a Cold-Eze commercial. Swear to Pete. He definitely could have been doing the voice-over and the facial expression were dead on.
I think the astronaut, you know the one in the sleep aid commercial, I think he’s cooking up some meth. Watch him stand there and you tell me. Highly suspect.
The shark that goes “raauuggh” in the icecream commercial makes me giggle, but the deadhead rolling down the hill makes me laugh outloud.
What’s with the nuns in the Scrooge credit card commercial?
What about the woman in the allergy medication commerical who says, “that one, please!” and the street vendor holds up her chosen piece of fruit? What? Like the woman can’t pick out her own fruit?
I’m addicted to the car commercial with the guy trying to buckle his daughter (?) into her seat and she won’t stop talking. My husband and I quote her all the time with phrases like, “his little legs…”, “I don’t know what it is…” and “his head is so tiny!” At any point in time I could blurt out, “…and I don’t know what it is!” and my hero will know exactly what I’m talking about.
I like the beer commercial with the Holiday Five Pack. I’ve done that – bought things intended for someone else and ended up keeping them for myself.
“There’s that moose again.” gets stuck in my head.
Commercials make the SuperBowl a chick friendly event; only this last year’s offerings weren’t that funny, nor were they clever. I see they’re reaching out to the general public for some help writing the “best” SuperBowl commercial for this year. Good luck with that. I’d rather watch the game.
Like Never Before
The Hero worked through the night so now he’s out like a light.
And I have an ugly cold I am trying to fight.
Alone by the unlit trees, I’m trying not to sneeze.
Got nowhere to go, nowhere to be
for I left my wallet across the sea.
With my nose on the run I’m definitely not having fun.
We cancelled presents, we cancelled holiday cheer
For sleep in the form of “have more Nyquil, my dear.”
Feeling doped up for hours, my mood – how it sours.
I reread a diary of Christmas long ago
A time when I couldn’t tell family from foe.
I can’t sleep for the noise in my head,
not to mention the cat who hogs my side of the bed.
I know this rhyme is crude, and I’m being rude
All ‘cuz I’ve copped a ‘tude.
It’s Christmas day and I’m sick as a dog.
Maybe I’ll go back to bed, sleep thru this fog.
Merry Christmas and to all a good night!
Banner in the Sky (w/ spoilers)
Ullman, James Ramsey. Banner in the Sky. New York: Scholastic, Inc. 1954.
I read this young adult book in one sitting. It’s cute and heroic and it won a Newbery Award. Basically, it’s the Swiss tale of a teenage boy looking to finish the challenge that finished his father – climbing the final, unconquered summit in the Alps, the Citadel. Rudi is a sweet sixteen rebel dishwasher who dreams of finishing what his father started, much to the dismay of his mother. Widowed and overprotective, mom relies on her brother to help keep her son in check. The only problem? Uncle is an accomplished guide with mountaineering in his blood. So is the kid’s restaurant boss. And his arch rival, 18 year old Klaus. Everyone looks to Citadel as the great lost challenge and Rudi’s leading the lack.
Spoiler: Rudi not only reaches the summit, but he also saves a more experienced, rival climber along along the way.
BookLust Twist: “Adventure By the Book: Fiction” (Book Lust, p. 7), Pearl describes Banner in the Sky as, “an adventure book that makes for good read for adults.”
Message in a Bottle
This year I sent out gifts and cards like never, ever before. I sent to people not on my list. I have no idea why. I guess it’s a simple as I saw something, it made me think of you, so I sent it your way. I would wonder how these OutOfTheBlue presents would be received. Would they even be received? I couldn’t help but wonder. I couldn’t help but care. I had no idea. Like messages in bottles I sent out my goodwill not knowing how anything would end up. I’m insecure so of course I wondered. Like a shipwrecked sailor I wanted my bottles to not only arrive somewhere safely, but I wanted their messages to be taken seriously because I was serious…Here’s what I know now:
This was how my blog for 12/23/06 was supposed to go. I was going to babble about the care I feel for people I barely know. Then, last night happened. Why go on about people who barely factor into my life – who barely blip on my radar screen when things like last night happen? Combine cappuccino, snaking the drain, family “fun” with barely keeping it together and an even better story is born.
It had started out as a pretty rough trip home. Exhausted, dirty and frustrated I couldn’t stop ranting, raving and complaining like a lunatic about the things I always seem to leave behind. All because I am stupid. Stooo-pid. I swear I need professional help, hypnosis, and shock therapy to cure what ails me. Seriously. My already busy sister has to come to my rescue..again. The miles went by and if I wasn’t seething I was sleeping. Trapped in the truck with me, I’m sure it was a tedious, tiresome drive home for my husband.
I had almost run out of bitching steam when we met up with R & C for a show that wasn’t. Upon seeing them (and fueled by the thought of a new audience), I caught my second wind and so launched into a repeat performance of disgust. I couldn’t stop talking ranting. C countered with crazy stories of his own and soon had me laughing.
Why blog about the barely anybodies in my life when J & I can meet up with someone who has known me for 20+ years and make every embarrassing instance laughable? R & C offered advice and had me crying with fill-the-room laughter. I love these guys.
Mind & Spirit Gifts
I have to write about this because when I look around the corners of my mind it’s what I see first. Heavy in the thought, light in the heart, making me smile all the same. I’ve been following the post-tour career of Natalie Merchant. How could I not? I’m spurred on by the hope she’ll actually get back in the studio to record, step back on the stage to perform, stand in the spotlight of another tour. For the meantime, here’s what my hero humanitarian has been up to:
Clear Path International: Natalie contributed “This House is on Fire” to a benefit cd. Ruby and I have classmates actively involved in CPI.
For The Lady: Natalie contributed “Motherland” to a benefit cd. Aung San Suu Kyi is still in exile.
Go Further: Natalie performs in Woody Harrelson’s movie about green living. I have yet to see this documentary.
Red White & Blue: A Tale of Two Americas: Natalie contributes “Motherland” to a documentary about Americans.
Unicef PSA: Natalie contributed “The Worst Thing” to Unicef’s PSA about AIDS. It’s a powerful 30 second spot. Check it out.
The Killer Within: Natalie recorded “Bird on a Wire” for a shocking documentary.
Dan Zanes: Natalie recorded a Scottish traditional folk song “Loch Lomond” for Zanes’ childrens album. I just picked this up for my nephews for a spur-of-the-moment-Christmas gift.
Nothing Like The Sun: Natalie will participate in a project to put Shakespeare’s sonnets to music. My friend, Rebecca Correia, has already done this with one sonnet. Very cool.
For New Orleans: Natalie contributed to a cd to benefit the musicians who were victims of Hurricane Katrina.
Give Us Your Poor: Natalie participated in a documentary about homelessness. This is a really interesting project worth reading about (and watching – there is an eight minute excerpt).
Why do I babble about these things? Why do I care? Surely there is little to no effort in allowing someone to use a song in a documentary or in a benefit cd. Surely it’s not big deal to record one measley song for something. But, here’s the thing: everything Natalie does is either for a good cause or a thought-provoking project. This is why I argue with my husband about an athlete’s paycheck and why I’ll never understand the price of sports.
Happy Humanitarian Holidays.
Travels with Charley
Steinbeck, John. Travels With Charley: In Search of America. New York: Viking Press, 1962.
This could easily be my favorite Steinback story. Maybe because it’s a true one. Maybe because it hasn’t left me wanting to slit my wrist by the last page. Maybe because Steinbeck writes about something I am interested in: traveling the country. His humor and DownToEarth voice make reading easy. I was thrilled when, by the 26th page, Steinbeck had already mentioned Deerfield, MA and my father’s school (the Eaglebrook School). His own son had attended there, hence the shout out.
Steinbeck does a wonderful job describing the small towns, the set-in-their-ways locals who inhabit each place, and the passing autumn into winter scenery. Like all his other tales (fiction or not), he makes the people and places come alive with vivid realism. My favorite part: Steinbeck wants to see the birthplace of Sinclair Lewis. He asks some locals about finding the small town of Sauk. They know the sign, “Birthplace of Sinclair Lewis” but it’s obvious they have no clue who Lewis was.
Booklust Twist: Pearl hides this gem in a chapter called ‘The Beckoning Road”, (More Book Lust, p.20)
Right Minded, Left Handed, Not Centered
Last night was another night of yoga. My husband said I’m starting a trend. I replied, “once is a fluke, twice is a coincidence, three times is a dynasty. A trend is when I can get someone else hooked with me.” He laughed back at me. Seriously, I have not returned to my practice until I simply cannot live without it. For right now, it’s a craving, a search for calm in a sea of frantic. The frenzy of festivities has me worked up, for sure. I want to get to that point when I love my practice more than I need it, if that makes any sense. That will happen. I’m getting back to good. I can feel it.
Last week was all about the thighs. This week my arms felt the burn. Almost everything we did last night was a reminder of how weak and off-balance I really am these days. Spiritually and physically. One armed plank balance was cool, but I learned even if I’m in my right mind, balanced on my left hand, I’m not centered. I have homework to do. I want to be cool, calm and collected to the core… with my core. Left hand where right hand was…yeah, right.
The other issue I had was during the pushups – the ole butt in the air, dip in the back thing…wrong, all wrong. I couldn’t get my back to straighten out no matter how I tried. It felt better to arch…the wrong way. Odd as that may seem. The weird thing is, I can do normal pushups – manstyle – without too much problem. Homework assignment #2. I promise to work on it. Personally, I would also love to work on getting the names of these poses in my head. Ruth can roll them off her tongue but they only bounce out of my brain as though they were made of rubber. I was them to stick so I can own them.
Probably the most valuable piece of this particular class was the box breathing exercise. I had trouble “holding empty” for three counts. My instinct was to gulp air fishlike back into my lungs. Breathing as always been a weird thing with me. When I try to match my breathing to my sleeping husband’s I end up feeling choked and gasping. I don’t know why I can’t relax into his breath and let it become my own. In class we practiced enough times that I was soon feeling the flow. The feeling of fish out of water soon faded, but it took practice.
Practice is all that I need.
Sweet Desperation
I dreamed of my father the other night. Even today my nighttime images are as clear as daytime. I stood on the other side of a door, watching him through the screen. He was bent over a dark green, almost black trash bag sorting through hundreds of papers. The longer I watched the more it was clear to me what he was sifting through: multitudes of colorful drawings of my childhood, mountains of homework of my youth, many writings of my young, just starting out, adulthood. My life in his lifetime. In print. I saw a biography of Eleanor Roosevelt fall from his hands with barely a glance, a poem about summer slip to the ground without care, a stick drawing of a cat thoughtlessly drift away on the breeze. I knew what he was doing. He was on a quiet, desperate quest for what wasn’t there. He thought if he searched long enough he would find my maturity on a piece of paper. The answer to how I turned out, for he needed to know. Desperately. Despite fearing he wouldn’t find his answer I asked the obvious. I don’t remember his response, but it prompted me to step out onto the porch to join him. I’d like someone to analyze my dream and tell me the significance of three platypus wandering across the lawn. A mother and two babies. Or was it a father? Mine barely gave them a glance as he kept searching for something he would never find.
Desperation is an ugly word. It’s an even worse state of mind. If I could I’d send my father a care package. In it would be a business card, a diploma, a wedding license, a bill for Indy’s shots, my drivers license, a certificate for running, pictures of my nephews…and a note. “These are the things you missed, daddy. This is what I’ve been up to since you’ve been gone.”
Admiral Hornblower (w/ spoiler)
Forester, C.S. Admiral Hornblower in the West Indies. Toronto: Little, Brown and Co., 1958.
I guess I read this series out of order because Admiral Horatio Hornblower retires at the end of this one. Woops. Anyway – rewind: it’s peacetime, right after the Napoleonic Wars. Admiral Hornblower is riding the high seas, battling pirates, confronting revolutionaries, and roughing the winds of a hurricane. This book is the reason why I’m doing this booklust challenge. This is a book I never would have picked up otherwise. At times I thought, “this is perfect for a teenage boy.” It’s easy reading…definitely easy, but exciting. Hornblower has challenge after challenge in every chapter. I loved his bluff about Napoleon being dead and then finding out “Boney” really did die. My favorite aspect of the book however, is more psychological. I loved the necessary “game face” Hornblower has to put on in different situations. There was a certain decorum, a definite mind-game to everything he did. He couldn’t look vulnerable to anyone, including his own wife.
Booklust Twist: Pearl calls C.S. Forester “the greatest storyteller of life on the high seas.” (Book Lust p 217). Confession – I should have read this one later in the series.
Saved My Holiday
My husband is saving my holiday spirit. Every holiday season I start out with the best intentions. I say all my cards will go out on time, all my presents will not only be early, but they’ll be presented with wrapping paper, curly ribbons and sparkly bows ala USPS. A tag from me to you. From us to them. With love. I say I’ll attend every party I’m invited to. I’ll shake out the wings of a social butterfly and fly. Every year I say all these things and every year it doesn’t quite work out that way. Except this year. So far this year so good.
It’s the 18th and 95% of my cards made it out into the world of friends and family, despite all the moving around they do (you can stop now, Jon). I’ve discovered the real trick is to Let Go. Every year I’m bound and determined to write lengthy Here’sWhatWe’reUpTo cards. Every year I refuse to just sign my name, fake his. Letting go allowed for a happy median. A concession of sorts. For the people I barely know I barely wrote. Why struggle with writers block for the sake of a once a year hello? I won’t write a book, I don’t just sign our name – something in the middle, something sane. We wrote them together. He filled in the spaces of my writers block with something to say. I like this together stuff.
The last of the packages went out, thanks to the rockin’ husband. Becca, Angela, Chet…a little something coming their way thanks to my hero, gallantly braving the post office lines, the grumpy, impatient people…
Over the weekend we went to R & C’s for a non-holiday holiday party. Gifts exchanged on the sly. Food on every table, laughter in every room. The butterfly didn’t exactly emerge but I wasn’t part of the wallpaper, either (if R & C even had wallpaper). I ate too much, I laughed even more.
We went to see sirsy. I was disappointed I didn’t hear any Christmas songs. Mel does a mean Happy Christmas (War is Over), but what I really missed was Some Kind of Winter. That’s one of my Live Cry songs. It’s absolutely amazing. My Hero came through with Christmas carols all the way home. Everything from Elvis to Twisted Sister to Frank, JT, and Vonda.
We went to the traditional Other Side of the Family Christmas party. Another get-us-all-together with food on every table. Scratch tickets and scratchy toddlers. Football and funny stories. The only one missing was Irene. I said a little prayer for the grace missing.
We went to the traditional office party with nontraditional karaoke and coffee before cordials. Conversation about BBQ, skiing and family. I held my own. I think I did.
Time to Get Cooking
Last night J & I brought saucy kielbasa and Riley’s famous Muddy Buddy’s to R & C’s non-holiday party. You can’t get any simpler than those two dishes to literally throw together. He chopped, I poured. We took turns stirring. Simple as that. For both dishes. We make a good team.
Today, I start some of the preparations for Christmas in Maine. Twice baked Cajun sweet pototoes with salty sweet pecans served in orange shells, SpencerSpecial Stuffing with apple cider, onions and Grannies, a cranberry sauce of some kind (haven’t decided but something with fruit)…and the freezer pie that we always, always make. Mom’s bringing the bread, and another pie. I have the sweet potatoes, cream cheese, cajun spices, the nuts, the onions, butter, celery, chicken stock, bread crumbs, herbs, apples, cider, sausage, cranberries, whipped cream, chocolate chips, pie crust, cinnamon…yet, with all this food I feel like I am missing something. I’m not sure what it is. I still have time. No need to freak.
MuddyBuddy (vaguely)
* Chex mix *
* butter *
* peanut butter *
* chocolate chips
* vanilla (the good stuff)
* powdered sugar
