Thanks to all who came to our Staccato full band debut. As soon as I can figure out how to get the photos online, I will. Props to our friend Garth Fry for lending his photog skills! Be sure to check out his art show opening this Saturday at the Galaxy Hut.
I am laid up lately with a spring cold/allergies. I love how my voice sounds with this extra layer of soul.
Between the last time I posted and now, I have: traversed multiple time zones; given my sister and brother in law big hugs, met my new neice and hung out with my nephew (look out ladies!) in Germany; driven with a nicely voiced british-accented navigation system my dad and I named "Molly" (or at times, Olga); wandered Amsterdam in search of Anne Frank and Vincent Van Gogh (and not drugs as my brother-in-law's brother was quick to playfully sarcastically nudge nudge wink wink); had said rental car break down, sorta, but then miraculously come back to life in a truck stop somewhere in Belgium at 11pm; took in a nice hike for German Father's Day that ended in 8 men and a dog piling into the back of a beautifully refurbished circa-WWII Mercedes utility truck passing around Bitburger's like they were water while traversing the most pastoral landscape to have ever been seamlessly put back together after a massive global conflict; sung "You Are My Sunshine" to a flight attendant at her goading finding out I play music (note to self: next time someone asks you if you are "hard of hearing" say "yes, I shoot lots of guns"); and, last but not least, given the city of Washington, D.C. one last sloppy french kiss goodbye for the city of Philadelphia.
And so I sit in an apartment at 10:30am on a weekday in my boxers, singing songs in my new sexy sick voice. I've said "see you soon" to one life and "bombs away" (almost) to a new one in this husky, breathy, raspy voice that I hope will stay but I know will not. The promise in leaving so many wonderful and inspiring people behind is the hope of finding more.
All of the sudden I feel like Carrie from Sex and the City. The fact that I know that raises less alarms within myself than I expected.
Mad, weekday love, from 10:30am in boxer briefs,