There Yours Truly was, minding her own business. In Rochester, in George Eastman House, specifically and for GPS or geocaching purposes.
YT's mother was also minding her own business.
And, in an adjacent room on the GEH second floor, YT's father was minding his own business, too.

As is my GEH wont, I like to tell whomever I am with there that thee George Eastman, a perfectionist of frightening proportions, committed suicide in the house, with a gun, because he was in pain with spinal stenosis.
So this fact was regaled to YT's mother as a slight and well-coiffed woman was eavesdropping.
First it should be mentioned that YT's mother had been searching for any documentation of GE's secret lover, who she knew by name.
I suggested, wrongly, that the family photographs be pored over.
This is perhaps why the slight and well-coifed woman began to listen.
She was floating ever closer and asked what stenosis is.
YT's mother, who suffers from this painful affliction, told her.
The woman asked if she is in constant pain and she said Yes.
The slight woman, speaking in a southern (sutthern) accent asked if she might do a laying-on of hands on my mother as she is a Prophet.
What can one say.
My mother said Yes.
So there the three of us were in a small upstairs GEH room, no longer watching the informational vid on display as the slight woman is appealing For a MIRACLE for ...
she then asked my mother's name
... for ANNETTE.
Then she kissed my mother on the cheek.
My mother, Professional People Person, gave the woman one of her most beatific smiles and thanked her.
I asked the slight prophet's name and we were then informed that she has a television show, that she's published books, and has a website.
I Googled her the instant she was out of the room and lo & behold, there was this slight lady - and her spouse - in all their sutthern and prophetic glory.

Onwards.

Had luxe dinner at The Social down the avenue from GEH.
Highly rec.

Highly rec Love, Love.

A newbie for the Accidental Frame Series, entitled Valentime.
This was made at the out of town and out of sight Valentine Wedding which, to my humble op, did not include enough red.
Did note that both moms in attendance, and a gramma, had on red.
Long live trad.

So FB is all in throes of figuring out how to navigate between online accessibility and privacy - it's more than the appropriation of one's posted party shots of pals and the like, but the ability for FB administrators to share a user's email address, or other contact information.

As an early FB user I was appalled to discover that my visits to epicurious and Pandora were being documented on my FB page until I fixed that prying little wagon pronto.

Speaking of red and all its bawdy connotations, it is time once again for Yours Truly to construct yet another lovely lively interactive photo booth for charity. I have a list of fav causes and one that perpetually has made the cut since the org's inception is Squeaky Wheel and their Peep Show.

This year 'twill be Nunzia's Boudoir Secrets Photo Booth with naughty shopgirls to assist customers with the selection of a perfect secret to hold aloft to document one's likeness.

Last night there was a man passed out at the wheel of his idling automobile blocking the drive of my property. I pulled up and blared the horn for some time to no avail. He was slumped down.
In these strange and armed times it is not advisable to rouse a sleeping man in a vehicle when it could result in an odd and punchy reaction.
Another person noted the slumped man and they called the authorities who knocked and sent him on his way.
One night out with Elba, we were returning to the Shiney Apple from a snazzy party in Brooklyn, we discovered a man in sports car slumped and snoozing. We did get out (that was indeed a different era, less armed) and noted his breath.
I at that time was driving what I drove in my salad days - a functioning wreck.
Light on looks, but dependable, with working radio. Critical.
So we discussed the possibility, for hi-jinxal exercise purposes, of removing the man from his sportscar and placing him instead in the wreck and making off after the swapping.

Had to abort plans to hike down into Shale Creek this fine afternoon as it was icy and on the driest summer day can be slippery with all that prehistoric shale and all.
Wished to show Kennergy the joys of the eternal flame, the methane that leaks up between the rocks.
Another day, another trek down, another match to mysterious gas jets to ignite what is truly a recommended and lovely site - compliments of Nature.

Gas-jetted Love.

side self query:
Is it possible to shrink an acrylic sweater.
If so, I am in the process of doing this.
Just twittered for some guidance before it's too late.
I think I may have shrunk articles of said material before: maybe I'll dial down the shrinker/dryer.

Onwards.

Documented the BigU's memorial for the plane crash 50 this morning.


There was music, candles lit for each person, a brief slideshow showing each person's name and bio, and readings.

And now here is the scoop of how Yours Truly was benched this past Sunday by the Saint Joe's coach.
First a synopsis recap, then a play-by-play.
Vincenzo, moved by my FB e-daydream of one day singing the national anthem at a sporting event and singing the part of Acid Queen got me a gig for the former.
The game in question was a huge deal rivalry match between Saint Joe's and Canisius high school b-ball teams.
There is much ill-will, apparently going back since the schools' inceptions.
YT went to the so-called sister school of one of the schools.
So, having said gig, YT busted out all the vocal exercises from lessons and choirs and musicals past.
Fun fact: YT is a soprano but finds it more fun to sing an alto, harmonizing, part.
YT was coached by various pals, some who worried needlessly on my anthemic behalf.
The appointed tip-off time was 3 p.m. this past Sunday, February 15th.
Annie was designated winggirl and documentor and as I was in the midst of picking her up at her home, as she was bounding down her front steps, I received this text from Vincenzo, who was calling first the JV game and then the following big boy b-ball game.
Annie and I were about 15 minutes away from walking into the gym.
It might be interesting to note that this verysame gym was the site of several h.s. dances enjoyed by h.s.-aged YT and gang.

Serious change of plans. Superstitious coach has pulled the plug on your gig. So sorry ... sorry ... sorry.

I replied. Are you joking.

No. He just told me at halftime. He was not interested in my objections.

So then YT used her reserve curse, and sent it on its way, believing that this coach did not realize how wrongheaded this was as there was to be a special moment of silence for the plane crash 50 to be followed by my rendition, so it was all very divergent from the pre-game norm.
So the bad wishes were sent off as Annie and I sat in the front window of Left Bank, sipping cocktails that were in lieu of - and not in celebration of - my singing moment.
I had the urge to text Vincenzo for an update.

Joe's was down by 10.
Then 7.
Then 10 again.
Then 20.
Then 10 again with 27 seconds to go.
Then they lost by 2.

Moral: when one wishes to sing for You with utter glee, let them sing fercrissakes.

One good thing that came from this was a fun afternoon with Annie barside, and a c-w tune we penned for the occasion.

Over and out.

Benched but not defeated Love.

Q: Why do women put on lipstick whilst driving.
A: Because they can.

So there Yours Truly was, driving to the Central Terminal late last week, to be filmed for a Channel 2 promotional spot and suddenly it occurred to me that bright red lips would be a nice counterpunch to the rainy weather all about.
I mostly stayed in the lines, the overall effect was red.
I referred to this as Crazy Lady Red lips.

Readied house and self all week for the annual Red Dinner, with record turnout this year. At one point the oxygen seemed at a lowpoint and the back door was opened to let in a little bit more.



This image was made by Betsy Frazer of Yours Truly during the RD, demo'ing the effect of the fabulous plethora of red poly-oly-ester folds on the party dress.
Marty Boratin, it should be noted, hated the choice of green shirt under the dress.
YT loved the touch of favoured colour.

Curious after-party finds:
1. A lost lipstick underneath the green chair, upon which someone lost their green gum.
2. Left-behind winter boots.
3. A reveler found my tin containing my preserved bumble bee used for photo shoots (with a note upon it, labeled BEE), must've been startled, and dropped the bee. Now lost. Now keeping eye out for more dried plump bees.

YT thanks the following pals who helped slice, dice, advise, cook, warm, serve, fete, and pre-revel revel in the kitchen Red Dinner morn:
Jana, Heady, Vincenzo, Marty, Janine, Annie, Deb.
Mucho.

+ +
Was surprised when Donna Brazile entered the Green Room on Thursday night and praised God and repeatedly described the terror she felt before her plane took off to get her to the BigU for her speaking engagement.
I thought that as a politico she must travel a lot, how could it have been that bad.
She described her plane being rocked by the wind before takeoff, that she thought god wanted her to come to the Middling City as her flight wasn't canceled - as were many others.
She was engaging, her talk was insightful, and she warmly answered several questions from the audience.

This is my image of Donna Brazile with UB Law School Dean Makau Mutua, who hired me to make his family portraits a while back.

I left the venue at exactly 10:17, and noted this as I called someone who asked to be phoned when I was leaving.
I wondered later, when I heard of the plane crash at that moment when I was outside and walking a long walk to my car, why I hadn't heard the crash which was not very far from where I was, and which happened at that exact moment.
YT knew two people on the plane: Alison Des Forges, and Susan Wehle.
Had a gig a decade ago to make portrits of Alison at her home when she received a Genius Grant, and always found her to be serene and lovely, modest about her work telling of the world about what was happening in Rwanda, an under-reported story.
Susan Wehle was the cantor at Temple Beth Am and again I'd see her when working, always impressed by her positive energy and unforgettable smile.

Onwards.

Today YT will be singing the National Anthem at 3 p.m. in front of a big crowd at a b-ball game.
1.5 minutes.
I will be giving it my bestest, toppermost skillset of vocal range and jubilant high hopes that the world, although seemingly falling to bits at the moment, will rebound and be leaner, more collaborative, and a lovely shade of forest green.

Yesterday had a gig, pre-wedding, at the BigU, at a b-ball game, women's.
It was a cinematic moment as my gaze zoomed in on where approximately YT will be standing to sing the NA today, on a court, between teams.
Much like this:

This self-imposed Moment of Terror is similar in feeling to full-time working whilst pursuing the MFA - a good dollop of adrenaline, fear, and joie de vivre.

Joie de Love.