Friday, my friend Jan invited me to a free (to 88.5 WXPN members) World Cafe Live show with Damien Rice. It was a short set and Damien was running late (he admitted during the show they had to wake him up…and also he hadn’t brushed his teeth yet). But wow, if that’s the kind of performance Mr. Rice puts on with less than free breath, just imagine how he does during a minty fresh performance. I was floored. He did a few songs from 9, and a my favorites from O; including Volcano and of course, the song I was worried about blubbering like a wee child, The Blower’s Daughter. A few things I noticed during the show, the floor squeeking underneath the pedals of his Fender Rhodes during Accidental Babies, the cellist’s name is Vyvieene (a different spelling of Viv’s name – my Viv’s is Vivienne), although his vocalist Lisa Hannigan was incredible, seriously show-stealing at points – she doesn’t know how to tune her guitar, and not only is his percussionist Moby, his bass player is Joey Fatone. In watching the percussionist, (Moby’s real name is Tom Ossander apparently), I realized I want to look that happy. He looked incredibly content to be playing his djembe, very fluid and smiley. So here’s to hoping for djembe-joy.

My daughter called me when I got home, she had two things on her mind:

1. She wanted to let me know that she had her red shiney shoes on
2. She wanted to make sure that I did NOT shave off my whiskers.

Then I finished the .NET project and took some cough medicine and hit the hay.

Saturday, I woke up rode my bike to my kid’s house and stacked firewood, raked leaves for 4 hours, got up on the roof to clean the gutters, did the dishes, fed the bearded dragon some crickets, and then rode home again. I came home and wished my kids were there. My Aunt Cis was over and making choreg (an Armenian pastry) with all the little cousins. Making choreg involves lots of twisting and tieing dough into shapes, putting peanut butter in the dough, cinnamon, etc. Lots of stuff that little kids really enjoy. The best part is Cis made this strictly to my deceased grandmother’s recipe, which made it even more special. My grandmother (who actually was not Armenian at all) made the best choureg ever. When she would send me boxes and bags when I was in college, everyone would stop by my room in the fraternity house as soon as I opened it up.

I am now really, really sick. Satuday, I woke up with a cough, but now I’ve got one of those rattle your brain coughs and it sounds like there’s loose parts in my lungs. I’m just going to become one with the bed today and hope I can find a good lung mechanic.

This entry was posted on Sunday, December 17th, 2006 at 8:02 am and is filed under .net, biking, family, friends, music. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.