Right Moon?

dream big or stay home

Random people and/or things in my dream last night:

- Bill Murray (wearing a short red mesh ensemble)
- Ernest Hemingway (who was surprisingly charming, and gave me a set of blank greeting cards for the new baby)
- A first edition printing of Shakespeare's MacBeth
- Halloween trick-or-treaters, to whom I gave fried mozzarella sticks
- (and, of course) Owen Wilson, flying a helicopter

maybe we'll have a boy

Know what I don't like? I don't like this trend of sweatpants and sweatshorts (ughy-ooh) with words written across the butt. Today I saw "Cheer", "Pink", and "Dance". These were all on the bottoms of young-ish girls, and I was overcome with a slightly creepy feeling after realizing I'd just stopped to read these girls' rears. But then I did the worst possible thing: I thought "My daughter won't ever wear shorts with words on the butt."

Which of course means that my daughter will do it just to prove me wrong.

Self portrait in habit

Mother Abbess: "These walls were not built to shut out problems. You have to face them. You have to live the life you were born to live."

Outdoor theatre is filed with unexpected excitement...last night I swallowed a bug halfway through Climb Ev'ry Mountain.

The Sound of Music opens tonight at Musicals at Richter (Danbury, CT). Ticket information can be found here. Be there or be square.

Goodbye 97+

There is something so magical about the break in weather. The smell of rain on the road, the loud rustling of the wind through trees, and that moment when you realize you are no longer sticking to the sweaty chair you've been sitting in... The haze was hanging heavy over our house, both literally and figuratively, and now that it's passed for awhile, the very air seems optimistic.

Hello again

Broken record here. Car in the shop, computer broken. Swipe credit card, wait a few weeks, repeat.

Despite all the unexpected, however, things are good. We're upbeat, we're healthy, and although I can't find enough words or energy to explain the high and low emotions of the last week, we've reconnected in some unexpected and lovely ways (Hi, Cousin Amy!).

Also, we saw Charlie and the Chocolate Factory tonight, and there are few blues that a little Johnny Depp can't cure.

he partied with miles davis

flying out in the morning for a funeral. a final goodbye to an important person, but one i've said goodbye to many times before. he was my father (not to be confused with my Daddy, the man who raised me, who's alive and well), and one only needs to look into my eyes to verify the connection. he was a poet, a dreamer, a gypsy, a lover of music. he never understood his own power, his goodness, and he never defeated his demons. but he loved me with all his heart, with every fiber of his being, and i never doubted this. i loved him fully and completely, too, and my memories of him are filled with smiles and laughter. you might look at my start in life and get the wrong idea; i'm a lucky, lucky girl.

double bee

climb every mountain

We're in the home stretch with Sound of Music (show opens in just over two weeks!), and as with most community theater, there is still so much to be done... It's really a wonderful thing to see parents, friends, and the community really pitch in to make it happen; a truly grass-roots kind of effort. Today, in the midst of simultaneous staging rehearsal on the outdoor stage, vocal rehearsal in the music room, costume fittings upstairs, and publicity photos on the side lawn, I caught this little Von Trapp studying his script.

what he said

You know that list in your head of people you'd love to hang out with, but at whom you would probably just sit staring with drooling, gigglingly wide-eyed awe if you ever got the chance? David Byrne's at the top of mine.

Did you know David Byrne has an online journal? His takes on the oppressiveness of the new Freedom Tower design (..."I think it’s not really about the practicalities of security or protection, but about symbolizing an attitude, a climate of fear and of a walled-in nation.") are so true. But don't stop reading there, because his description of The McCullough Sons of Thunder, a trombone ensemble based out of The United House of Prayer in Harlem (who recently played in Central Park with Byrne), is really worth mentioning:

"It gave me chills. Not just because of the music, but also because here was faith, religion and spirituality that was manifesting itself as joyous, life affirming and uplifting, as opposed to militant, oppressive and death-dealing. We’re getting too much of that these days, from Muslims and Christians alike, so this was a beautiful healthy antidote, and a reminder not to throw out the spiritual baby with the bathwater — those of us who feel the nastiness of fundamentalisms cast doubt on belief of any kind."

Right on. Music has always been a direct pathway to spirituality for me.

vintage

It's here

It's seems like it was just last week that I was tempting the vengeful ear of fate by telling my sister-in-law "I feel great! I haven't even had any morning sickness or anything!" Uh, yeah. Scratch that.

Only, it's not morning sickness. It's Afternoon sickness or sometimes Evening sickness or even can't sleep because you're so queasy for hours upon hours sickness. And since you asked, it's not throw-uppy, it's just QUEASY. A melodramatic queasiness that warns that standing up might result passing out, accompanied by a stomach that feels absolutely starving while the thought of putting a bite of food in my mouth sounds foul and wrong and life-altering in a bad bad way. And since actually tossing my cookies is a relief that's not come to me (I've tried; I'm not a natural puker), this queasiness lasts for hours and hours at a time; just long enough to call the husband, my mom, my mother-in-law and the Internet and complain about it.

fresh

harlem

motivation x3

I guess I should be honest and admit that I just got pregnant as a ploy to develop a closer relationship Britney Spears. I'm thinking we can totally bond over our whole baby experience, y'all.

Also, I'm hoping pregnancy will make me at least half as funny as Dooce (if you've never read her - and if you haven't, welcome to Internet 101 - do yourself a favor and start with the pregnancy archives).

And did you know that pregnancy is said to make the classical voice richer and fuller? Yep, the unborn child is a mere pawn in my career master-plan.

if it's rockin', don't bother knockin'

A few nights ago, Bear had to work late, so I was tending to the homestead all by myself. Before I went to bed, I opened the door to check the lock.

Imagine my surprise upon finding a bra (not my own) hanging from our outside knob! I was a little embarassed, because you know, someone had to have put it there, thinking it was my lost bra. How long had it been hanging there? Who had walked past over the course of the evening and accidentally thought of my boobs in relation to that mystery bra? Then again, it was in much better shape - and smaller - than most of my own boulder-holders, so it wasn't as embarassing as if it had been the real thing.

I was also highly amused. It was like a frat-house symbol: if there's a bra on the door, don't disturb your roommate and his guest... Or maybe some secret admirer of Bear's (or mine) bestowing gifts... I never actually went to any of those parties (or left my bra to an admirer, thank you very much), so it was interesting to know our apartment is cultivating a reputation for itself.

graffiti

patience = rewarded

[You people Crack. Me. Up. Especially you lurkers who already know the World Changing News and still can't wait to see it in print. So please note that I'm pre-dating this entry to create the appearance of timeliness.]

I wish you were here so I could tell you in person. Maybe we would sit down for a glass of wine and I'd make some dramatic show of declaring "no drinking for me in the forseeable future" (hint: no, I haven't gone into rehab). Or maybe you'd say something nice about my skin (because summer sweat really does perk up my complexion) and I'd say "oh, do you think I'm glowing?"

I could try any of a million pre-packaged corny-conversations if you were here, but instead I'd probably just say "Holy cow! We're totally pregnant and the baby has a heartbeat and everything; we saw it in person, and of course we both started to cry..." And then you'd probably be surprised and happy, but also a little worried, like "ooh...but what about your Crohn's Disease?", and I'd say "No Problem. The doctor thinks everything will be fine, and perhaps even 'uneventful'." And then I'd start talking about inheriting the family minivan and being due February 7, and I'd move on to discussion of my 48-hour bout of Extreme Morning Sickness that kept me away from the computer (and everything else), and you'd sense I'd gone too far... you'd realize I've suddenly, and with woefully little warning, crossed over into the Mommy Zone.

You'd smile and nod as I tell you about the research I've done on schools in the area, and probably start walking away as I outline the "no dairy before age two" plan. But wait, come back! There's so much more to obsess about...