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I can't get out of bed this morning.

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I had forgotten that when the weather turns chilly its so much harder to get out of bed. Maybe that's because in my previous life on the Upper West Side the heater was so overbearing I almost succumbed to the hand of heat stroke at least twice a day. Damn nonadjustable heating system.
Oh yeah...and all I've been craving lately is a really good foot massage. Not one of those pansy pedicure ones. But an all out invasion on the muscles of my feet. Where does one find such a thing?
And because I'm thinking of it and if I don't write it down here I might forget. Random posting ideas for the future...Sam Shepard, my NY apt. horror stories (the heating was only the tip of the iceberg), and Halloween/ birthday reminiscences (they're coming up you know).

I had the best day ever...

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...because my absolutely gorgeous friend Naomi so graciously invited me to see her and her unbelievably dashing husband speak at their church. It was humbling and beautiful and really moving to see what makes the Mormon faith and culture so special. I think its unbelievably courageous and nothing short of an act of love to stand up in front of a group of people (strangers and friends alike) and reveal yourself. To share your beliefs, dreams, hopes, regrets, thoughts, reflections, and thanks. So thank you for sharing that with me.
And then something truly remarkable happened. We made pizza. Naomi is a domestic goddess. She claims she isn't but my keen eye sees otherwise. I mean c'mon she made the dough from scratch. That's right, scratch. And then when she realized she didn't have a rolling pin, did she panic? No, no. A lesser woman might have. But not Naomi. She opened the cupboard pulled out a drinking glass and started rolling away.
The only thing better than seeing this woman in action was seeing it while she recounted the unfinished love story that is her and Josh. Oh yeah...and there were some chocolate chip cookies involved. That might have helped.
I laughed and marveled and satiated my bottomless pit. It was a good day. A very, very good day.
so she waved her wand and came up with this...

good lookin' cookin'
voila... (okay, so maybe it looks kinda scary, but I think its just the angle of the photo)
besides, the beauty of the table more than made up for it
naomi, you are a goddess. look at this picture. now look at how thin my arm looks. thank you, oh thank you!
the father face strikes again. ah, will I ever have a normal picture? josh looks normal, what's wrong with me?
what's this you ask? i'll tell you...
...only one of my favorite parts of the day.
 
Naomi taught me that to avoid the tears onions undoubtedly bring on (always) one should just keep a piece of bread in your mouth. I wondered at this. My mother had shown me a way to stop the tears...run your hands under cold water. But to avoid them altogether? Impossible. Or was it? Well... the jury's still out. We tried, but this is how it went down.
Bread in mouth.
Attempted conversation...garggled sounds....giggles...laughter. Bread removed. Translation of noises. Followed by tears.
Oh, the tears!
So next time, we'll keep the bread in the whole time. I have a good feeling about it. I think she might just be right.
So thank you Naomi. Thank you Josh. Thanks for being my friends.
La, la, la...my life is really good!

I guess I should confess...

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that I'm in need of a really good cry. It's not that I'm sad. Because I'm not. I just feel something welling up inside of me and I could use a little release.
that I even resorted watching to One Tree Hill in bed last night to try to get that "really good cry"...
...and then drinking a smirnoff (because I didn't have wine) and taking a hot shower (because I didnt' have time for a bath
that I started playing footsie with Ned about a few days ago thinking it would end there, but it didn't.
that I'm may never ever escape Ned.
that I discovered the exact location of that really good chlorine whiff on 5th ave. It's 54th street in case you want to know.
that I fell asleep in Sheep's meadow today and it was so good that I forgot where I was. In fact I started to get chilly so woke up to turn off my ceiling fan, only to realize it was the breeze and I was napping in a public park. And that I had no shame about that.

that I'm blogging right now from Rockefeller Plaza (thanks to someone's free wi-fi), while I kill time before my job starts at the Met. I should be preparing for my auditions. But I'm not. Or exercising. But I'm not.
that I've become addicted to blogging, most especially right now anything to do with the Nielsons. I go to Nie Nie and C Jane Enjoy It and wonder at their strength and faith and the glorious writing and then I stare at those gorgeous pictures of Stephanie and her children and wonder if I've ever met someone so beautiful. And I find myself praying for people I don't even know. And I don't pray much.
that I hate having to ask people for gifts (aka money) over the phone...even if it is for a good cause. I get it...no one likes the pushy phone calls, no one likes to give money away...but it's my job and I love the people I work with. So please...have patience with telemarketers and fundraisers...they're just trying to make a go of it like everyone else.
that I can't understand why not one man offered me his seat on the bus this morning. I stood there for an hour. Chances are I would have refused, but really--is chivalry actually dead?
that I just realized I actually have to do something other than this...oh damn, the real world beckons and I am forced to answer.

The is just to say...

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I love the smell of new paint. It makes me think of the fourth grade. We were living in a hotel while they painted our house (we had just moved) and we had to bring in apples to make apple juice (who knows why, we were in fourth grade, we did this and spent the whole year writing only in cursive) and I ended up having to bring in sad little apples from the hotel's continental breakfast. 

I love that the smell of paint makes me think of that. 

I love memories.

I hate the book banning, gun-toting, "sexist" screaming, Tina-Fey look alike that is Sarah Palin. Woman, you were chosen precisely because you are just that. You're not shattering the glass ceiling, Hillary did that. You're just riding on the coat-tails of a man.

I hate when you're in a the kind of mood where you end up going to bed in what you've worn all day. 

And I hate when you get up and then wear it all over again. 

Or I love this. Not sure. Jury's still out. 

I hate that I don't know how to add you-tube videos to my blog. 

I love that my uncle and I now have our morning meetings via email.

I love my friends. And my family. 

I love making new friends. In the oddest of places. 

I love finding kindness where you least expect it.

I hate that I have no idea how many m&m's I just ate. Alot. That much I know.