Stuff That Happened

Good Morning, Kids. It's 3:00 am in Jersey City. Normally I would be sound asleep, but we just got home a little while ago from the wedding of our friends Rachel and Ed Derbes and we're still a little wired.

It was a beautiful, fancy-shmancy shindig at the Yale Club in Manhattan. Rachel looked gorgeous as did her mother. Ed and Rachel's father were handsome devils in their tuxes. We had a wonderful time.

The handsomest devil of all, of course, was none other than Mr. E, himself. That boy wears the hell out of a tux, let me tell you. I wore an emerald green satin halter dress with a matching green vintage-ish brooch. I must say I looked none too shabby myself. I got quite a few compliments on the dress. If only they knew I'd bought it at the mall at the slutty-clothes-for-fat-chix store! HA! It's not slutty, however. Very tasteful 40s glam-ish. Slightly vampish perhaps, but definitely not whorish :).

One cute little hippy girl told me she liked it because it reminded her of something Bjork once wore and she LOVES Bjork. I had mental flashes of the swan dress, but took it as a compliment nonetheless.

Thursday night we went to see Mike Doughty at Bowery Ballroom. Sold out show. Just him and his keyboardist. Fucking awesome. He signed copies of his new CD--Haughty Melodic-- after the show. When I got up to him all I could say was "Hi." He said "Hi!" really enthusiastically like he was waiting for me to engage him in conversation, but I was muted by my admiration for him. I completely geeked out. It was awkward. Ethan stepped in to save the day and exchanged a few words with him. I am indebted. Next show I'll bring my copy of Slanky (his book of poems) along with me so he can sign it and I'll force myself to say something to him.

To be fair, I was next in line to this chick he obviously knew who had him sign her boobs. How do you follow that? We found out on his blog the next day that this was the chick to whom he'd lost the big V some 18 years ago. Jesus..if I'd known THAT I wouldn't have even managed to say hi! Still, I felt like a huge dork, but at least I have a signed copy of the album which is wonderful. "Unsingable Name" is really one of the most beautiful songs I've heard in a very long time. It's been stuck in my head all day. And "Busting Up A Starbucks" just solidly rocks.

If you're not familiar with Mike, check out his website www.superspecialquestions.com. His blog is well worth reading and you can listen to music from his two previous solo efforts and fall in love with him as hard as I did.

Next Thursday we're going to see Weezer. I still don't have the new album, but I'm totally jazzed to see them. I've never seen them live. They'd better rock my ass HARD and not disappoint. Rivers Cuomo is a Geek Rock GOD! He'd better live up to my expectations. Then again, girls, when has any man every lived up to our expectations really? What's that? Nevery, you say? Fuckin' A.

I should really watch my potty mouth. I could be someone's mommy right now, for all I know. We'll find out on the 12th. Wish us luck! I've noticed that ever since I was pregnant the first time, Ethan is more sensitive to my potty mouth. He never seemed to mind it before I was the mother of his child. Now he chides me and says it's "unladylike." I never claimed to be a lady. I'm more of a dame. Or maybe a moll, but not a lady.

I'm off to fall asleep with my head in Ethan's lap while he watches grown men pummel each other. Heaven!

V

Fuck Spring

I used to love spring. I tend to favor the milder seasons. I dig all the spring cliches: birds, flowers, sunshine. I live for that first day it's warm enough to wear flip flops or eat outdoors or sit in Washington Square Park and watch the freaks emerge half naked from wherever it is they hibernate all winter long.

This spring, however, has been miserable. Between the rain and pollen count, I've had a sinus headache for nigh on 6 weeks. There have only been a handful of genuinely nice days so far and they're invariably weekdays. I recall one or two nice Sundays (this last was one), but the weekends have been largely overcast and damp.

I'm convinced I have Seasonal Affective Disorder, so I look forward to spring as a time of renewed energy and increased serotonin levels. I got so robbed, man. Fuck spring, and fuck mother nature.

Unless, of course, this is all part of her plan to get me knocked up. The boy and I weren't too diligent the last two cycles, only taking advantage of about 3 days out of the six day window both times. All the lackluster weather this cycle has given us reason to stay indoors and focus on the task at hand. And we've been focusing daily, lemme tell ya. Hopefully this will be the month. I won't be crushed if it isn't--only 25% of couples conceive in the first 3 months.

As Ethan mentioned on his blog, this past Saturday was Sam's yahrzeit. He passed away April 12th last year or the 21st of Nissan on the Hebrew calendar--a fact that makes trying to conceive this cycle that much more bittersweet for all the obvious reasons. Suffice it to say, I hope he knows we love him, we're not trying to replace him, and it's his fault we want so damn much to be parents again.

On that note, I'll sign off. I'll check back in after the next pee-stick test, at the very least.

V