05 March 2006


it's been too long. i am sorry for that dry spell, void of both art and words -- i'll try to do better, really i will.
(does it bother anyone out there that i don't use capital letters? i think they're such a royal waste of time.)

ah folks, spring is on her way. the air seems timid to turn too warm too quickly, which i appreciate. the forsythia and the curly willows are sending forth their first tiny, bright colors, the birds are warming up for all the calling that is soon to commence, and the air is starting to smell green.

this morning i went for a run in the dry and cool. i listened to david gray's "life in slow motion" which i can't get enough of on a good day, but now the addiction has worsened since i saw him at the ryman the other night. a fine, fine performance. he reminded me (and two of my friends, independently) of andrew peterson -- the hairline, the stature...although andrew doesn't wiggle his head nearly that much.
during my jaunt, i ended up in centennial park with the wide open greenway, the parthenon, the giant magnolias, those swings with the little wooden foot-rest things which also aid in keeping the swing swinging....i grew up with those particular swings. i'm a native nashvillian, so sometimes and in some places such as these, it's sweet and a little strange to remember myself as a 6-year-old on the very same soil, 23 years ago. wow.
i ran around the pond where the geese were having a splishety-splashety good time and loudly honking at one another, the hazy sun was glittering on the water's surface. the water had that briny, musky, man-made smell, and the dogs strained at their leashes in greeting me and one another. as i ran up the steps of the parthenon (ouch) to attempt a sprint down the corridor, i caught sight of a little boy peeking around the wall at the opposite end and then saw him pull back again. then he, along with his little brother and sister, snuck out and began their dash toward me on the steps near the wall. just as we were about to pass, their father pounced from his hiding place behind one of the gigantic columns and roared at his three children, sending them into peals of raucous, nervous, marvelous laughter. after jumping a few feet in the air and recovering from a serious rise in heart rate from the scare, i laughed with them as i ran on past. the dad yelled after me, "sorry about that!" and as the four of them doubled over, i yelled back over my shoulder, "that's alright! you remind me of my dad!"

so here's my question: does anyone else think that they have the best and goofiest dad ever? i'll bet i've got you beat. (this is me and dad playing with clamshells while making paella alfresco...this is just the sort of thing we do in my family. sounds idyllic, doesn't it?)
for instance, when i was in junior high and all of the other girls had bangs, well of course, i wanted them too. i had all of my unruly "wispies" combed forward, with the scissors poised and ready to make the change that would inevitably give me a good, hefty push into the elusive cool crowd that had shunned me for so long. i'd show them. my sister was standing there and went to report to dad about the history being made in the bathroom at the back of the house. he came and stood quietly, smirking, in the doorway with his hair combed to the side and slicked down onto his forehead which caused him to look a little like the sad, deflated mr. mcfly from "back to the future." now my dad has always had cool hair -- a good hairline, slightly wavy and soft hair, sort of long-ish in the back. (i actually have him to thank for my curly locks.) so he told me that if i moved the scissors another inch toward my hair that this would be his permanent new look. the thought of anyone seeing my dad like that terrified me, and so i put down the weapon. he won, and we all laughed.

an enormous storm just moved in. i plan to spend the evening at my worktable, trying my rusty hand at some art whose creation has been a long time coming -- too long.

new music to check out:
matthew perryman jones: a dear, inspired friend of mine. his voice takes root deeply in my heart when i hear it. (oh, and i'm doing the packaging design.)
kate york: matthew is a friend of hers, and he loaned me her brand new album. her melodies bring me along effortlessly -- she's a profoundly gifted writer.
jamie cullum: his new one "catching tales" is a masterful compilation of old and new. how can he be as young as he claims he is?
the bees: the title track and one of my favorites is called "starry gazey pie." how can you go wrong with a title like that!?

it's dinner time. today i bought the prettiest and most perfect artichoke that i think i've ever seen (maybe i'll go put some steaming water on right now), pictured left along with a bunch of something called "easter egg radishes." they were so adorable and sprightly, i couldn't resist.

the train wheels squeal and echo on the wet tracks about a mile away, and the hollow sound makes me glad to be safe and dry in my little house. and maybe i'll sit down with a freshly brewed cup of dark, frothy, marvelous coffee (compliments of my new toy, the never-out-of-vogue french press pot) a bit later along with my just-begun book, "the time traveler's wife." can't wait. a dear friend put it to me this way: "it's taste has stayed in my mouth for weeks afterward..."