dishing about life over cocktails and chocolaty goodness...yum
Search This Blog
Thursday, February 21, 2013
And the Rest (reduex)....
or more boredom than the brain can handle featuring a butt load of photos
(Oh hey, look. There's that jump thing again to read on)
Moving on...
1. Sisters Pelini Weekend at the Beach
Once again we Pelino girls traveled to Long Beach Island to spend several days at my sister's little house by the lagoon. We love this place, and although Big Mar cannot venture to the beach anymore, she enjoys being with her girls. The feeling is mutual. We eat, yak, drink, tan, drink, yak, eat, yak, yak, yak... You know, the usual girl stuff that is impossible to share with spouses because you just can't. You just have to be there. And be a girl and/or sister. It's a gender-specific phenom. Trust me on this.
fresh caught seafood daily
fresh made mojito daily
fresh cut blooms daily
okay, not these. their owners would be pissed
And The Rest...
or how I spent summer vacation and other random bits of 2012
FYI: Procrastination is neither my friend nor foe, but more a seductive Siren's song luring me to the rocky edges of distraction.
Bitch.
Disclaimer: Since this bloggity blah blog in no way impacts the course of human events, but is merely a tool by which to store the very minutiae of my existence in order to jar the memories that will no doubt be buried deep in the dusty corners of my future addled brain in my swiftly approaching senile years, I feel compelled to document the aforementioned backlog of shite that was the later portion of 2012 for future reference, or embarrassment. (She says, knowing full well at that point she won't even remember who this spazzy chick with the crazy red Medusa hair is to feel any modicum of shame, but will merely point and laugh and ridicule with delight. That is if she can still remember how to read. Or find her teeth. Or use the loo.)
Wait...Where was I? Oh yeah...
No lie, these two posts have been my albatross, my Moby Dick, my relentlessly naggy House Frau with the pointy rubber brassiere and kitty whip. Every time I open this bad boy, their "draft" status mocks me. How did I get so far behind?!? For whatever reason, I lost interest in this e-journal. Perhaps it was my Muse taking a much needed sabbatical to Hawaii, or my getting caught in a funk spiral or maybe... just maybe I was out living my life.
Yeah, let's go with the last one, shall we.
In any case, I gotta launch these f*ckers before I have a psychotic break. So grab a case of cold ones. This is going to get mind numbing. Feel free to skip ahead to future posts. Or past ones. I won't hold it against you. Not for too long anyway.
Part One: Concerts. trying to clean up my blog mess before starting a new one.
Okay, so this summer was a terrific season for concert going. Usually I write ad nauseam about these musical outings, but for whatever reason I have been lax about penning a synopsis. I shall effort to be brief (HaHaHa! I crack myself up) in the following retelling.
The interwebs have become the electronic form of Pen Pals. You remember Pen Pals, right? In grade school we all got to choose a kid from another country with which to correspond in an attempt to expand our horizons, create a better appreciation of other cultures and generally make the world a smaller place. Well, that snail mail took forever to get from point A to point B and back again, but through the miracle of technology, the size of the world has shrunk small enough to fit in the palm of our hands. It's easier than ever to make and keep friends over great distances.
That said, I had the pleasure to attend three shows with several friends I never would have met had it not been for the development of social media.
I learned a new trick, the jump that shortens up painfully long postings in the main feed while providing a link to the full blown rambling, which has apparently been a feature here since like 2008. I'm a slow learner. So of course there is way more after the jump. Waaaaay more. I am nothing if not needlessly verbose.
Morrissey, replete in peach (shirt #1 of 5)
His visage was all on over that stage
(at the elegant Heinz Hall)
Okay, so back in October the Enigma known as Morrissey cancelled yet another concert date in Pittsburgh. Alright, this instance was legit, as his Mum was sick in England. Or so he claims. Whatever. Who am I to judge. A fucking patron who shelled out some heavy dough-re-mi for this gig AND wasted a bloody vacation day to boot, that's who. But I'm not bitter. Much.
Barney, Wilma and Steve in the "cheap" seats
Aaaaanywho, he rescheduled for a Monday night in January. The absolute worst day of the week for me. And you know, it is ALL about moi.
All day I kept thinking "he better fucking show up this time." Well, he did. With a five-piece back up band, a big ass light show, and a trunk load of shirts which he changed every four songs whether he needed to or not.
It's been a while since I've sat through one of these uber productions. It was a fun change, but it also made me appreciate the smaller, more intimate, reasonably priced (read cheapo) shows I normally attend.
light show a go-go
So back to Moz...
He's held up rather well. His angst agrees with him apparently. His voice was exactly the same as his younger self. Unfaltering. He entered the stage amidst the spinning cookie lights, dramatically pausing, posturing, theatrically kneeling up stage near the drum kit (complete with timpani and eight foot gong), shaking hands with his minion in the front row, and pushing the mic stand over like a true diva. It was hysterical.
I kinda love it.
For the second or third shirt change (who can remember) he came out in a denim number which he promptly ripped off and tossed into the audience during the chorus. At which point, my old pal, Steve remarked, "okay, he's not in bad shape, but nobody needs to see that. NOBODY."
(blast from the past: The Smith's singing one of my favorites neglected in the Pgh show)
Truth be told, he didn't play enough hits for me. No "There's a Light That Never Goes Out." No "Big Mouth Strikes Again". No "Sheila Take a Bow". No "Panic". No "Cemetery Gates". And that's just off the top of my head. I wasn't familiar with most of his selections, but boy howdy, the two kids in front of us were going to town, thrashing their heads with abandon for each and every offering. We had a great time watching them freak.
I tell you this though, I could have done without the graphic slaughterhouse footage rolling behind him during "Meat is Murder".
I. Get. It.
You're a vegan. You're opposed to people using animals as food, but I don't want to see that shit at a concert, yo! Also, he ended the master setlist on that Debbie Downer.
What. the. EF?
Bewildering.
Never having been to one of his elusive performances before, I had no idea the whole fans-jumping-on-stage-to-touch-and-or-hug-the-Moz was a thing with him. Three adoring followers (two male, one female) took the leap of faith to lay hands on His mighty self, while Morrissey continued crooning uninterrupted. But only three jumped to kiss his ring, which may be why we only got a ONE SONG ENCORE!!?!
Okay, it was How Soon is Now, but still. WTF?
(courtesy Phreak9mm)
It was different. Not horrible at all, just ... different. I can't say for sure whether it was worth the self-inflicted wound of sleep deprivation suffered the next morning at the cruel hour of 2:30am, but I'm glad to finally have had the chance to see him. I'm still bummed I foolishly passed up the opportunity to see him with The Smiths back in 89, but this was one for ye olde bucket list, fo sho.
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
Hometown Saturday Trifecta
or three of my loves in one incredible day
Okay, so what's better (for me, that is) than a Rhett Miller solo show? Seeing him play TWICE in Pittsburgh sandwiched around a victorious Pens game against the Flyers, all in the company of my everlovin' Geo, that's what.
Happy pre-birthday to me! Spending an entire day watching my two loves with Geo is the cherry on the top of my Corneto, fo sho!!
The lovely blue-eyed one kindly squeezed a visit to the Burgh in between his Virginia and Mountain Stage gigs, and WYEP (the greatest radio station in the lower 48) snatched him up for a rare Saturday afternoon studio session. Geo and I (did I mention G tagged along?) met up with friends and fellow Rhett enthusiasts, Joe, his girls and Noreen for his energetic four-song set and interview. No matter how large or small an appearance, Mr. Miller has one mode--All IN.
You can hear for yourself. Time Bomb is particularly awesome. The link to the session is here. Go listen. It's only 24 minutes long. Go ahead. I'll wait... (cue Final Jeopardy theme)
courtesy of Noreen McBride
Articulate, witty, giving 100%...Do you see why I adore him? Plus, he graciously stuck around for photos.
rhett + hockey = double LOVE (steph refers to this as the "elusive dry hair pic")
my wonderful friend, Suzanne and I as the bread in our rhett sammy
his banana is quite excited to see her
aaaaaand... we've overstayed our welcome
Side note: Before going on air, Rhett told the audience he was pulled over for speeding on his drive up from Virginia, quipping the incident gave poignancy to his lyric, "I call the police, but they don't like me." In some douchey, cosmic joke to punctuate that statement, he got a parking ticket while he was wrapping up at the station. Fortunately later on, the Universe made nice for being a dick by giving his Stars a win.
Next up, opening day of hockey with a bar full of beer-swilling, team-jersey wearing Pens fans.
hell of a line right there
One thing about Pittsburghers, we love our sports teams and ain't afraid to show it. There was a recent study claiming our city has the highest per capita of women donning team jerseys. Yeah. Not a surprise. The clientele at the Smiling Moose validated that statement. I think Geo and I were the only ones NOT wearing a Pens logo.
For shame. For SHAME!
Anywho, we had a blast in our little alcove yelling and cheering the Pens on to victory with a packed house of revelers.
After a dinner of tender lamb kabobs, it was time for the third spur of our Saturday Trifecta, Mr. M at Club Cafe. All told, there were about ten in our group of groupies parked in the front, mole side.
joe c, amy c, katie c, noreen, me, yoko, annie and cindy
The opening act was Black Prairie, an eclectic six-piece band including three members of Portland's Decemberists. Among the plethora of diverse instruments were a stand up bass, accordion, steel guitar, violin and some wacky looking Hungarian violin with a horn attached. Their sound had a unique honky-tonk, European, circus vibe, fronted by a beautiful blonde with an equally gorgeous soprano voice.
Annalisa playing that wonky fiddle-horn thing
that's a whole lotta talent packed onto that l'il stage
They were incredibly skilled musicians. I have a new found respect for the accordion now thanks to that wee woman. The highlight for me personally, was their cover of Led Zepplin's The Song Remains the Same.
Moving on to the real reason for this gathering...
a great moment captured by the talented Amy Crawford
I know I sound like a broken record, but any time I get to stand in front of this incredible tall Texan and listen to him sing is a good day. A very good day. I have run out of superlatives strong enough to convey his talent, his prowess, his greatness. He is simply superb.
half windmill courtesy of Amy Crawford
This evening featured a long, 29-song mixture of solo works, 97's tunes, cover songs, and banter. His oeuvre (his word) is so extensive, I marvel at his ability to whittle it down to 30 songs.
We were treated to the last verse of Question en franchise (pour les dames) preceeded by an amusing story about his French teacher. (video courtesy LiveBurghMusic)
The crowd getting behind him on Barrier Reef. (courtesy LiveBurghMusic - more videos here)
And Annie and I gunking up my friend Noreen's video with our sing-along on Indefinitely. (I could have at least sang the correct words. asshat.) watch more of Noreen's videos here.
Black Prairie joined Rhett on stage for the final five songs of the master set, adding a delightful element to his works. A little honky tonky. A little Mellencamp-ish. A little twang.
Annalisa Torfelt matching his high C
California Stars
solo set closer Our Love with a twist
(courtesy LiveBurghMusic)
And then just like that, it was over. Another fantastic performance seared in my memory. He played for over 2 hours, and still we all wanted more. Luckily, he'll be back with the 97's in March. Woot!
The one downer of the evening: Club Cafe has always been our favorite venue in the city, but lately the bar crowd has been beyond rude. I understand that patrons feel the right to talk during opening acts being as they came for the headliner, but Jesus H Christmas! now they're talking LOUDLY THROUGH the headliner!!?! It's embarrassing, and completely inexcusable.
I mean, What the fuck? What are we, Dallas? Come on, people! What's worse is this show was sold out. I personally know a handful of fans who would have gladly taken the collective ignorami's place, singing and dancing and adding to the experience instead of detracting from it.
Asshats.
Somebody needs to get all Mike Doughty all up on their asses. Seriously, either go next door to Jack's to yuck it up or just SHUT THE FUCK UP AND SING!
I realize that's contradictory, but you get my drift. I just hope this bad behavior doesn't dissuade him from coming back to play more solo shows.
Perambulating All Around The Apple
Or capitalizing on a rare extra day in the greatest city on the third rock from the sun
Okay, so as reported in the prior post, I treated myself to an early birthday present by flying to New York for my fantasy hubby's annual winter concert because his solo gigs are my kryptonite. And Southwest with their ginormous sales to Newark airport is my enabler.
DING!, you weak Muthaf*cker.
PIA to BWI to EWK
Anywho, all Southwest flights to Newark go through Baltimore. I opted for the earliest flight available which meant landing in BWI at 7:30am. BWI is one of my favorite airports. It has a great variety of foods like fresh made sushi, rocking chairs along the windows to while away the hours between flights and ... a bar at base of our gate.
No shit. The first thing that greets me after deplaning is a well stocked bar, open and serving at 7:30 in the freaking morning!! What, are you kidding me?! Yes, please! What. Juice is a legitimate breakfast drink. Don't be judgy.
I had the barkeep take a photo of our little breakfast club.
bloody marys and mimosas at 7:30am
these are my peeps
Obviously, Southwest knows their target audience. I particularly enjoy the blur factor in this photo. Seems fitting.
After checking in at the Four Points Sheraton in Soho, I found myself with an entire afternoon to kill. Soho is one of the coolest neighborhoods in Manhattan. The volume of restaurants and attractions is overwhelming, but thanks to the Yelp! app (thank you again, my dearest iPhone), I found a little eatery close by serving up delectable barbecued brisket.
downright lilliputian
A lot of restaurants are lacking space in town, but Rabbit was downright TINY. Super narrow with only four tables, the food and atmosphere more than made up for tight squeeze. The menu was pretty entertaining, too.
can't speak for the coffee, but the food is great
After stuffing my maw, I walked the 25 or so blocks to the Chelsea Market. Yeah, I bitch and moan about walking the THREE blocks from the Special K to Macy's, but I don't even think twice about trekking 25+ blocks in the Apple.
Geo and I went through the Market back in December. The building is filled with restaurants, bakeries, and specialty stores. I bought way too many cards and baked goods.
vibrant interior of chelsea market
One of the things I adore about New York, is every trip is different. I never know what I'll come across while on foot. The walk down 8th (Hudson) to the hotel provided these sights. (and other fun stuff from this trip. i'm condensing here, people.)
a theme restaurant where the gargoyles insult you
stay off the moors!!
still bummed this went condo
winner of the ugliest garments award
this was on madison ave...MADISON FUCKING AVE
we didn't look for a price tag because you
just know that shit is crazy expensive
i'm a sucker for big stuff on buildings
i love you so hard, new york nerds
Wait, what?!? JACQUES TORRES CHOCOLATE SHOP RIGHT AROUND THE CORNER FROM MY HOTEL??!? HOW DID I NOT KNOW THIS???! Seriously. I've been staying at this Soho hotel for three years now. How did this escape me? P.S.: the dark chocolate with lemon is drool worthy. Mmmmm... The next day's trip proffered this big ass cookie for FREE! Score!
That bad boy is sitting on the table at another great little find, The Hudson Diner. The BEST crispy bacon I have ever eaten. EVER! These guys need to teach all cooks their trick because their salty side dish is goddamn perfection. Not that I have an opinion or anything.
Moving on...
For as many times as I've feed my Rhett obsession traveling to Winery shows, I have never had an extra day after the show to just hang out and enjoy the city. I usually fly in one day only to fly out at some unholy early hour the next morning. Since this concert was Wednesday night and I didn't have to be at work until Saturday, I had an entire 24 hours to do whatever, with whomever, and that whomever was my sister, Laura.
I treasure my time spent with Laura. She's lived away from home since I was 12, but she and I have always been tight. I would stay with her in Connecticut for weeks at a time in the summer when I was a teenager. (God bless her little round head) We're very similar, she and I--same sense of humor, same political bent, same love of the f-bomb--only she's way smarter than me and she's one of the kindest, most generous individuals I've ever known. She's one of my favorite people on Earth. I'm blessed to share the same gene pool as her. (She also way better at English grammar than I.)
Anywho, we met at Penn Station and proceeded to walk 22,000 steps (what?!) all over a sun-kissed Manhattan. We walked the 40+ blocks up Madison to a Caldar exhibit, stopping here and there, drinking in the diverse architecture and talking the entire time. Don't even ask me about what. It's a female phenomena. Talking non-stop, covering a multitude of subjects none of which can be conjured up later to share with the husbands.
central park
i have never traversed through this magnificent
green space the same way twice
sisters on the castle lookout
We went through Central Park and lunched on a pre fixe meal at Ed's Chowder House across from Lincoln Center found, once again, via the Yelp! app. OHMIGODJESUS was it crazy good. Three courses and a bottle of wine. Delicious! Once again, thank you remarkable machinery forever poised in the palm of my hand.
Before we knew it, it was after 4, and time for Laura to catch the train home. I can't even tell you how long it's been since she and I spent a day in the city alone together. I had a blast. Hopefully it won't be the last time we waste a day in the city.
But wait, the day wasn't over yet. There was an entire evening ahead!
Can I get a Woot! Woot!
First up... Happy Hour. Even though I've spent numerous phone calls drinking wine simultaneously with my friend, Marcy, we've never had the opportunity to spend an actual happy hour together. We met at a cozy, nameless wine bar nestled between a liquor store and Starbucks on Madison between 95th and 96th. The narrow establishment only sat about 15 total around the bar and stools that lined the short wall. It was great to catch up over a couple of glasses of mellow red (Conundrum) coupled with a perfectly matched cheese plate and tomato bruschetta while listening to Gigi, the gorgeous wine tender's awesome Pandora station. I believe it was Mumford and Sons.
FYI, time moves way too quickly when you're having fun. Two hours sped by in a blink of an eye, and Marcy and I parted ways flush from good wine and even better conversation.
Last stop of the evening was midtown Margaritas and Mexican with our nephew Zach and Kelly. I'm not going to lie to ya, things were getting a little fuzzy after all the wine and now tequila. The food helped stave off some of the slurring. A wee bit anyway. Okay, none. I was a mess, but my delightful companions didn't seem to mind.
You know what, it's so awesome having grown up nieces and nephews to hang out with. They were lovely kids and now they're wonderful adults who are a blast to be around. Zach directs for music festivals and the HuffPo online news, so it's great fun to swap horror stories of our mutual maddening business.
The three plus hours whizzed by like a shot. At 11:30, I poured myself into a cab and headed south to my ridiculously comfortable hotel bed, happy to have lived another day surrounded by humans I adore.
In Which I Bet You Can't Guess Who My First Concert Of 2013 Was
Okay, so I can't resist a Rhett Miller solo date at New York's City Winery.
It's a fact. So sue me.
It's especially difficult to pass up when Southwest thoughtfully puts their flights to Newark on sale for less than half price.
DING!
My all-things-Rhett/Old 97's traveling companion, Steph had just returned to work after maternity leave and couldn't make the midweek journey this time around. Boo. I always miss her, especially in the Big Apple. Believe it or not, I actually contemplated canceling the trip altogether.
WTH?!??
I know, right? Geo didn't believe it either. Clearly, some aberrant fever cast a pox on me. At the last minute, my nephew's girlfriend, Kelly accepted my invitation. I've been talking about the lovely blue-eyed one ad naseum for years to her. I think I finally wore her down. Ha!
Kelly and I made it to the venue in time to catch the opening act, and Irish band called the Dunwells. The five lads literally landed in the US with barely enough time to make it to the Winery gig, let alone check in at the hotel. Even though they were disheveled and sleep deprived from their transatlantic journey, they put on a fun, high-energy show.
yes.the drummer is playing a box
They all came out to the merch table afterwards. Very sweet young guys with a lot of talent and, hello... irresistible accents. You had me at, 'Allo.
It's a great joy for me to introduce Rhett's music to a newcomer. Being familiar with his recorded works is one thing, but seeing him perform live for the first time is an entirely different beast. I get a renewed appreciation for his talent watching him perform through a newbie's eyes. I get a kick seeing a first-timer's jaw drop and eyes widen when Rhett starts ripping through his setlist, thrashing around, singing and strumming with such passion. You can sense them drinking the Kool Aid of the converted. I recognize that look. That was me years ago.
Kelly was familiar with a couple of his songs, but had no idea what to expect. By the third song, Broadway, she leaned over, eyes wide, to mouth, "I love his words!" and then "He has so much energy." It makes me so happy to share my exuberance for his work with others who come to appreciate him, too.
(a rare performance of Adelaide)
Mr. Miller was on, as usual. He never disappoints. NEVER. The evening's setlist was killer. He played a number of rarities, Adelaide, Busted Afternoon, Cryin' Drunk, New Kid and Jon Landford's Over the Cliff in honor of the ridiculous fiscal cliff BS all over the news. Hell, we were even treated to the Heisman line in Won't Be Home. Clearly, he is at home here.
(A great tale pertaining to the naming of his band Old 97's)
He was giving his all, bopping up and down, doing his signature half-Townsend windmills, furiously thrashing his head up and down, anointing the first several rows with droplets of sweat. Seriously. how does he not concuss himself?!? One of my favorite parts of the solo shows is his playful banter with the audience while he's tuning or peddling through a song. I love the stories and insights into the background of his songs, not to mention the glimpses into his charming personality.
(Rhett's referring to Springsteen's Born in the USA prior to singing Perfume)
(The Conscientious Haberdasher hawking his wares - Picture This)
After the ovation died down for the long, satisfying 29-song setlist, a group of us regulars stuck around to bask in the glow of the magnificence that had played out before us. Kelly's sentiments echoed our own long-standing beliefs. He's an extremely clever writer, expert at turns of phrase and an amazing performer possessing dynamic showmanship.
Yep. I think we got us a new fan here. Welcome to the fold, friend.
Lost Without You
Doreen
Broadway (oh that killer high C!)
This Summer Lie
Lonely Holiday
New Kid
Need to Know Where I Stand
Barrier Reef
Adelaide (a very pleasant surprise)
Murder or Heart Attack (AKA, the Kitty Cat song)
Out of Love
Over the Cliff
Busted Afternoon (another rare treat)
Caroline (she may have been in the audience)
Perfume (it WAS a beautiful day outside)
Won't Be Home No More (avec Heisman)
Fireflies (delightful schitzo role play)
Question
Let the Whiskey Take the Reins (sigh)
Picture This (awww...)
Cryin' Drunk
You're Gonna Make Me Lonesome
Big Brown Eyes (YEAH!!)
Wreck of the Old 97
Our Love
encore:
Wish the Worst
Queen Bitch
California Stars
Time Bomb
the end of the party :(
Of course, there are more videos from this event and others on my Youtube channel here.
Friday, January 25, 2013
In Which I Toss Out My Principles And Willingly Throw Myself Into Goal Making
Okay, so my friend, Steph who always has her finger on the pulse of what is interesting, hip and cool sent me a message via Facebook inviting me to participate in an exercise in which one describes ones goals for the year as broadly as possible using only three words. A link to the original blog sporting this idea is here.
I'm not a fan of resolutions. I don't relish setting myself up for failure and self-loathing. I do that enough on my own. Lord knows I don't need a piece of paper mocking me for 365 days, too. That said, I have been so conflicted on so many levels over the past six months, this exercise seems like a simple way to help me get my shit together. So here goes...
My words for 2013 are Simplify, Reconnect and Health
Simplify: I (and we, meaning Geo and me) need to desperately rid ourselves of the burden of too much clutter. It has become unmanageable, unhealthy and unyielding. Our inability to toss the excess crap is the source of our biggest conflict these days. We've had some truly epic knock down, drag outs over the copious amounts of crap clogging our physical and mental landscape. I even had a dream recently in which a burglar cleared out the entire contents of our first floor. Everything. The only things left were the empty CD shelves in the living room. And here's the thing, the only losses that upset me were photos and signed CDs, both of which are irreplaceable. Clearly, it's a sign from the universe to purge, purge, PURGE!
Reconnect: with George in particular. (TMI portion of this missive) My loss of libido and other events have created a chasm between us causing him to experience bouts of insecurity and self-doubt regarding our relationship. He has read my general lack of sexual interest (which completely sucks bong water big time, btw) as an indication that I'm bored with him and will eventually leave him. That's insane. He's the most important man in the world to me, yet he doesn't believe me.
"what will make you believe me?" Much like overeating, I think his fears of my flight have fueled his need to acquire more stupid shit to gum up our house in an attempt to fill a void of some sort, bringing us back to word #1. In any case, I want to get our marriage back on track, get back on the same wavelength again and straighten this hormone shit out without estrogen therapy, because I miss my randier self. I'm researching options.
Health: When I was 49, I was in amazing shape for me. My sudden, inexplicable weight loss and battle with PSIS joint pain left me trim, strong and at peace with my body for the first time in my life. I was happy and confident. Over the past year I've had to curtail my usual activity because of a shoulder injury. Consequently, I lost strength in my upper body, gained weight in all the wrong places and am still feeling a general sense of ennui because of it. My shoulder is better, so I'm ready to get back to an active routine.
Maybe I'm kidding myself with this whole three-word goal thing. Lord knows I have the attention span of a Kardashian, but I'm willing to give whatever passes for a try on my part. I've gotten off to a decent start on #1 by tackling one small project a week--cleaning out a closet, clearing the pantry, packing up dishes for my niece, Regi's eventual apartment. My goal right now is to continue along this vein. Geo put my erg back together this week so I can start out slowly and test-drive my shoulder motion, so #3 may actually get moving along, too.
As for #2...Geo is my true north, my light, my reason for being. My life would be nothing without him in it. All I can do is tell him I love him... and help him clean out his crap.
