Friday, April 18, 2008

There was a serious trot to the terminal this fine new day, having had to park in one of the more remote long-term and long distance run lots at the Middling City's so-called international aeroport.
Shuttle buses whizzed by Yours Truly, empty, not looking for strays. YT toodled out a YooHooooo to no avail.
Better the exercise than the on-bus banter.
Onwards I trotted.
Was YT late.
But one never knows when one might confront a ridiculously long line of befuddled newbies who still don't know about the shoes thing, the 3-ounce rules, and the like.
And, last night, it did suddenly occur to me that some residents of the MC might be making devout pilgrimages par avion to see the pope in the Shiney Apple.
On the JetBlue transporter the staffers were agitated, watching one of the on-seat screens, watching the papal progress as he boarded his own plane.
If he's in the air JFK will become a no-fly zone, they revealed.
Everyone within earshot became a little less cheerful.
And we're going on to Orlando - this will cut into our drinking time, the larger of the two attendants sniffed.
As people were still boarding the guy next to me pointed to his screen and moaned Look.
There was the pope making his way up the stairs to his pope-a-plane, as there was a montage of W at a podium, undoubtedly gushing as best he could about papa.
So, gladly, the pope zoomed up the coast and we did land ten minutes early and all is well and Perfect in Nancy's World.
Onwards into the Shiney Apple.

Updates to follow.

Rushed, rushing Love.

Wednesday, April 16, 2008

A new phenomenon was born yesterday, due in part to my fav gray square-toed loafies. As I hustled about in the food shoppe to get a few items to eat much later for din, noted that each and every time Yours Truly touched anything in the store I received a jolt. A larger jolt of near heart-stopping level when metal was touched.
I began to watch other shoppers to see if they, too, were getting shocked.
No, they were not.
My theory is that the loafers were creating static charges and, coupled with my frenetic energy du jour yesterday, it created tinglations.
In midst of many gigs this fine day and, grabbing food and working on laptop could not help but hear a loud-mouthed young woman next to my table reporting to her two pals about her Shiney Apple excursion recently.
The city, she regaled, was crowded that weekend because there was a convention of students in town. And, dig this, there's a Friday's on every corner and that is why she ate there. Additionally, she ate at Subway, and Olive Garden over there.
At this point I looked up to take a look at this gustatory and travel boob.
Now, YT admits that there may be a huge slice of the national pop who aims for these sorts of adventures.
YT is thrilled to report that she isn't exactly sure how to find any of the above in the SA.
Upcoming own adventure to include, bien sur, a stop at Alfred's stellar joint.
Seafood salad first plate.

Onwards to more workful matters.

Full of Love.

Monday, April 14, 2008

A view of some backwoods oil rig situ in the southwestern quadrant of our United States, You query.
No, Yours Truly replies in haste.
This is what YT tromped to congregate pixels over, the installation of the new and super-improved tower for WBFO. To apparently send their radio signals to outer space.
It took a while to find the mysterious and new service road that goes half a mile into wetlands that are much of Amherst, New York.
Alone, it was dusk, and YT did what any sensible woman/photog would do - jump on the ol' cellie to have human contact if all hell should break loose. It did not.
YT was wearing the wrong sort of boots. Yes, they kept the feet from getting all muddy, and yes, they were high enough to not get sucked off of my intrepid little feet.
But they had no heels so YT could not ask the team of radio tower installers if she might be able to ascend the little trapeze artist-like ladder to gain exciting access to the interior of the three-sided tower.
I did not even ask, knowing my heel-less boots would prove oso dangerous.
But I did dearly wish to add this derring-do to the ever-morphing c.v.
Moving on to less sluicey matters, more into the rock sphere, here is an image made last Thursday evening of the nephew's band, AmberWood.
They played at the annual Scotty Bowman teen hockey extravaganza at HSBC Arena.
Ever the proud, rock-loving auntie (who did have said nephew accompany her to several rock gigs and all-day fests since his tender age of six), there was much making of images as the band wailed away in quite a tight and formidable fashion.

Proud & Formidable Love.

Sunday, April 13, 2008

Lisa Jarnot, Robert Duncan biographer and poet extraordinaire, has created a virtual patch of grape hyacinths for Yours Truly as she has - mere minutes ago, written to let me know that my hat (see wondrous green woolly chapeau above), part of her 100 Hats Project, is completed and en route.
YT blogged about this quite a while back.
Lisa vowed to knit 100 hats as a way to honour Iraqi civilians killed in the ongoing miasma.
On the other end, those who were interested sent images of dead Iraqis and, when she could, she knit these 100 hats. This project began when the war did and, as we all know (or should) there are far more than 100 war deaths, on both ends, in all camps, sects.
YT will wear it most proudly, poetically.
Speaking of grape hyacinths, saw the first one poking up in the chilly ground. Daffodils are doing their damnedest to show themselves in their groupings.
Yesterday was a frenzy of editing and creating an online way to share and sell images from certain gigs.
Afterwards had a pleasant gig at the BigU where, amongst others, saw The Clarksons. The event happened on the stage of Slee. YT was concerned at one moment that she might step off the stage and into a huge silver bowl of syrupy-thick strawberries alongside pound cake.
Had a few moments to spare between that gig and the next event on the docket, attending the concert of Brahms, Wagner (vog-ner to the cognoscenti), and, in the demi half, a minimalistic piece by John Adams.
Due to gigging saw the latter half but not before enjoying a flute of decent champagne in the basement of KMH with Heady.
The other girls descended during the intermission and then we made our way up to our line of balcony seating.
This was all in honour of the birth anniversary of Mish. After, a quick jaunt to Lagniappe's for truly excellent loaf and mashed sweet potatoes. A triumph.
Onwards to the odd backroom sitting room of Staples.
No, not the partial student office supply emporium in Union Square, but the Allentown bar next to better-accessorized Hardware.
More edits await.
More breaks into the soggy garden await.
Waiting on a stretch of truly warmed days when those explosive Spring molecules waft about.

Wafting Love.