Tonight I'll be at a "New Year's Eve party for losers," and somehow, imagining the parties I could be attending--you know, with the "fabulous," I take the invitation as a compliment.
Fat snowflakes fall and the radiator speaks. The cub and her playmate eat a late breakfast, I have coffee, and the bass of a neighbor's music will not disturb my peace.
Bittersweet by Me'shell Ndegéocello
After the busyness of the holidays, and following a full day of dental appointments and other obligations, I showed slight irritation when Annie asked me for a third time to tuck her into bed.
A Christmas gift from David, and my gift to you--reflecting a sunlit gray sky, and the tenderness of the warm breeze that blows through my window.
A couple of years ago I was terribly heart broken, and my friend Tai emailed me a list of things I should not be doing. The first thing on the list was exactly what I was doing when I received the list--listening to music that made it worse.
Woke late, Annie still sleeps. My brother Daniel just phoned from his drive to the Cape--stopped at the cemetery to visit the grave of our father. Sydney, my brother's 4-year-old daughter who was born long after her grandfather died, looked under the tree where his ashes are buried.
Last night I dreamed I stood outside counting meteors. I was in awe, I could not believe how big and bright and close to the ground they appeared.
Christmastime can be a sink full of dirty dishes, or the warmth you feel when imagining her smile. It can be your pain or your playfulness, your distraction or your peace--but this time of year, no matter what, is always something.
One of the things I love most about music is one of the things I love least. You can hear a song that reflects everything you're feeling in the moment--it confirms, comforts or evokes a laugh, and then the same song, just a day later, can be completely all wrong.
Annie: "You know, if the name Starbucks was spelled backwards, I don't think anyone would want to go there for coffee."
Busy day, big night--Tallulah in from California, girls in my bed, lights out soon.
When last night's dinner turns into today's mess, there's only one thing to do. Make a cup of coffee, turn on some music, take a deep breath in, and get to work.
To the wonderful, kindhearted and extremely talented Cristian René.
In honor of Cristian's birthday, let's jump into Dizzy Gillespie & Charlie Parker's Leap Frog.
Annie: "Mommy, are you lonely?"
A few nights of deep sleep was the result of my desire to help a friend. But my head told lies, moved in motives like mismatched chairs, and convinced my heart to take something for itself.
I spent years battling with my belly, then I spent my bank account getting a new one. Today I spend preparing my home for tomorrow night's guest, while doing something I would never have done before--dancing through the apartment in only my underwear.
Last night I dreamed I was driving in Greenwich Village when my cellphone rang--it was a stranger calling.
...If I could give you one gift for the holidays, it might be a magic object to add to your love altar -- something like a pomegranate resting on red velvet, or a golden heart-shaped magnet, or Pablo Neruda's book 100 Love Sonnets. What? You don't have a love altar? Well then please begin creating one as soon as possible, and continue building it throughout 2009. For the next 12 months, the time will be right to get smarter, wilder, and kinder in your approach to creating intimate connection.
Whenever I spread my wings, swim in unfamiliar water or travel unknown terrain, I always end up running back home.
Every once in a great while, in the midst of my day, I will look down and see Honey. She might be hunting under furniture, or playing with a toy, or resting by herself. I will suddenly see her, not just as the little dog that lives at my feet, but as all of her--the life she is, the gift she is. I will stop what I am doing and get on the floor with her, and as I kneel down, for a moment she is startled and surprised. She lowers her head, tucks in her body as if in honor, welcoming me to her world. It's as if she is saying, thank you for visiting, thank you for remembering I am down here.
Last night I dreamed that a friend encouraged me to join a day spa--steam room, sauna and a coupon for free beer. The only catch--I had to write on my application that I believed in God. I wanted the sauna and I wanted the coupon, so I wrote down that I believed in God. Of course, it wasn't entirely untrue, but I knew I was deceiving the spa officials--I knew I was not what they were looking for in a member.
Cold morning, bright sun, Annie and Jasmine woke late. Eating pancakes, I'm distracted, coffee's coming, and thanks to Doug, John Surman plays pretty.
After their Thursday yoga class, Annie and her friends Varuni and Libby drink hot chocolate in my kitchen. They're also listening to Herbie Hancock, but I don't think they know it.
One more, perhaps my favorite, from Oregon.
Sometimes I don't blog because I'm working, sometimes it's because I'm busy, or preoccupied, or out of town. Sometimes I'm uninspired or have a guest over, and sometimes it's because I'm experiencing deep loneliness--something I am ashamed to admit and believe I have no right to feel.
Today I walked down Broadway and thought I saw a Jack Russell Terrier jumping at a man's side. It was actually the man's black and white umbrella swinging from his arm.
Week of December 11th
My body is in New York, but for the past 3 days my heart has been in Oregon.
