Believe this or not I was going to blog from Parsons School of Design - Parsons School of De-zign - and their network did not support Mozilla, how all this magic happens. Oh velcro and moved along, after checking numerous emails from there.
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Tonight is Dorota's el grande gallery night, Joseph Helman Gallery from 6-8 she'll be in the white hot spotlight and I'm to help her, allegedly, shop for the ensemble today. Yesterday we found some smart earrings. My outfit is ready, as if that's any surprise. Many Middling City people (imported and relocated) will be there tonight so it promises to be an excellent schmoozathon.
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It is time to rush out the door as NYC is calling my name and I'm indoors. Despite the breathtakingly cold air it's still NYC calling, NYC walking to do out there.
Sadly, it's back to M.C. tomorrow - when I literally run from plane, to car, to a gig.
I'll be educating little eager children on how to write about music, as part of the Symphony Scholar event at Kleinhans Music Hall.
Note to self: if in a very post-art opening/soiree condition, bring the mints•
A pickled role model is still a role model albeit an aromatic one.

Well happy freakin' Mardi Gras to you, too.
It's impossible for me to think the words Mardi and Gras without thinking of my roadtrip ending in a one-week stay in New Orleans for the visual orgy that is MG NO, LA.
Days and nights of parades, spectacles that are unforgettable (one: a man in a boxing match with a USA Today box until the cops hauled him away, bloody), the booze, the music, the stay-up-all-night Monday until Tuesday events, dancing on the levee at dawn at a free shroom-enhanced punch soirée. Ahh, Mardi Gras.
Leaving on a jet plane tomorrow to, amongst other things, celebrate the wondrous landscape images that have sprung forth from the brain of Dorota.
My pal Tom Calderone at MTV sent me some MTV2 swag, a gigantic and hip jacket with a typically jocular note from him stating that he's been promoted and therefore is sending all sorts of presents to his Middling City cohorts.
And, on a final note, I appear again on the cable access show/fiasco this upcoming Friday - taped last Friday. I arrived after a dinner date with a bunch of people, slightly tipsy and very feisty. I thought the taping was a chaotic disaster but the host and producer thought it was my best appearance ever, that I've really developed my television persona. Yeah, that and four cocktails will get you on the path to high times. The producer created a monologue about Yours Truly and I find it completely horrifying. There's a still of my face with a voice-over... Here's Nancy, mild-mannered. (laughter) Cut to live shots of me later in the show, and a moment where I did an impromptu interpretive dance to the music they were playing in the background.
I'll absolutely never be able to run for public office.
Oh well.
Mardi Gras love and such.

More Middling City rock & roll anti-incendiary madness.
Doug, Allen, Craig and Tyler's gig (The Neighbors and, yes, there was a fitting and subtle tribute to Mr. Fred Rogers) was moved from Mohawk Place to Sphere as the fire marshall(s) deemed the former to have a legal capacity of only 42 in their rear stage area. Calculations were made, protractors were consulted. Legally each imbiber/listener is allotted 7 square feet... so do the math for your favored hotspots.
Ironically, I saw Robbie Fulks (a genius! a semi-country genius!) playing a joint called the Sportsmen's, in what's an area of the Middling City called Black Rock, and there were 200+ crammed into the tiny bar.
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Now there's no more fucking around and it's nose to the creative grindstone to complete my fab art bra for the boobie health benefit on Friday night, 3/7. Have to tell the head of the charity that I won't be there... I'll be freewheeling way east, just before the ocean.
Actually had to invest in a tiny grommet setter because I'm using red grommets about the size of the size of the inner regions of a nipple. Or so.
Onwards to breastly matters at hand.
Grommetted love, red.