Birmingham's First Annual Bloom's Day Celebration

4pm at J. Clyde's on June 16th, 2008

Featuring passages from Dubliners, Ulysses, and Finnegan's Wake soaked in Guinness and irish whiskey.

Marriageness: The Beginning

We are now on the third morning of married life. I look at the clock - 5:59am. I jump out of bed, flipping on the lamp, exclaiming "OH MY GOD! I'm going to be late for work!" The Jim exercises his new rights as a husband by completely ignoring my freak-out and pulling my pillow over his head and going back to sleep. Smart boy. (My clock is set 10 minutes fast and it really only takes me about 15 minutes to get ready for work and about 45 to get to work. Therefore I had about 10 minutes of free time to properly freak out, frantically make breakfast, and search for my keys, earrings, and shoes all over the apartment.) I made it to work on time. (Jim is probably smiling in his sleep right now. He knows me very well indeed.)

On the way home from the Redmont on Sunday, Jim and I picked up She and Him (the new Zooey Deschanel & M.Ward record) and Broken Social Scene presents: Kevin Drew. I wish I'd had time to really listen to them. Instead, the Jim and I have spent the last two days either stretched out on the davenport watching old movies (The Thin Man, Auntie Mame, Vivian Leigh in Anna Karenina) or playing the Bed, Bath, & Beyond version of Supermarket Sweep courtesy of our multitude of gift cards! Hurrah!

Pictures! I know! Pictures to be posted of the ceremony and receptions! And of crazy, drunken Bocce Ball Bachelorette Party!!! Hurrah!

things mean alot

I turned the key in the ignition and reached down to release the parking brake. Turning to glance behind me, turning to pull the seat belt across, I smiled and smiled and smiled. It was the first day that I felt this certain freedom. My cloudy eye was clearing, my strength had returned. I was to meet Angela and Leah for an afternoon of shopping and for the first time in so long I didn't need Jim or my brother or my mom to drive me. I cannot express to you the joy of just driving down the street in my small neighborhood, turning on my radio, switching out cds in the stereo...Brad Armstrong's voice slow and steady through the speakers. I have the new record by 13ghosts, "The Strangest Colored Lights". Travis brought me a copy while I was in the hospital. I had heard a version of it last year while I was still with the Bucket. Listening to it, I felt quite blown away. The newest version is even better, the song sequence more refined. One of the many things that I love about 13ghosts is the play that occurs throughout each album between Buzz and Brad. They are like two sides of a coin, Buzz with his spacey pop laced with shredded rock and Brad's crunchy, wheaty alt-county outlined in futuristic tones. The end result is this gorgeous twist and turn of a summer's day, like a soundtrack, like a very lucid dream.

Saturday night, after the long day of shopping, Jim and I drove over to the Bottletree for the Raindrop Music Festival. It was my first show in over six weeks and it was worth the wait. I got so see so many people I've not seen in a long time and two of my favorite bands, Through The Sparks and Vulture Whale. I have to say this: Vulture Whale? ON FIRE. Amazing. Wes McDonald was absolutely hilarious. Les and Keelan and Jake were the ultimate rockness. On the way home, Jim turned to me and said "You know, Vulture Whale is the best band in Birmingham. It's true. They are. And I don't know if they have any idea how good they are." I think they know of the magnitude of their rock and revel in it.

Speaking of reveling, Jim got into the PHD program for Creative Writing at the University of Cincinnati. They gave him a full fellowship. Hurrah! This means that my new Mister and I will be moving to Ohio in late August. I'm so excited! I've never been to Cincinnati before, so if any of you know anything about that fair city, please feel free to send me a line.

SL

p.s. Amber just sent me this pic. In her boredom with the hustle and bustle of the Big Apple, she's decided to grow a mustache:



I think she should keep on growing it until the wedding. I've always dreamed of a hot handlebar mustache on my maid-of-honor.

April

I stood to the side of the stage. I stood with one foot in front of the other, hands pushed deep into my pockets. Cherry colored lights beamed down upon you. Heat and smoke surrounded us all. I couldn’t breathe. You caught my breath with your downcast eyes and lazy, quiet voice.

***********

April. Jim handed me the CD and said, "It’s called April." I smiled. The new Sun Kil Moon record. What a way to end such a good day. Yesterday was the last day of steroids. I’m so glad. So glad. Thanks for sticking with me through all of this. I’m so lucky. I’m so blessed. And right now, it’s so good to hear Mark Kozelek’s voice, his lazy, quiet voice and his meandering guitar. This is the first record that I’ve really listened to in a long while. So strange, especially since my whole life for so long has revolved around music. While stumbling through this mess of a relapse, I feel like I sort of lost myself. I feel like parts of my life just toppled while I tried so hard to keep everything balanced. It didn’t matter what I did. This disease is so unpredictable. I hadn’t had a relapse in four years. Four years. I had the small symptoms everyday, the numbness, the dull aches, pins and needles, the fatigue, but I learned to live with it. That’s what you do. You go on. Embrace this strange and wonderful life you’re given. I embraced it. I saw the beauty in it. I made the best of it. I hoped. I hoped against hope that this would never happen again. The Avonex did it’s job at least. It may not have stopped the attack, but it did lessen the severity. And that means all the world.

Tonight Jim took me to Workplay for a dinner and lecture hosted by EMD Serono. It was your run-of-the-mill "You should totally take our disease modifying drugs" deal. Jim and I have been to another of these recently hosted by Biogen Idec. They are all the same. They feed you and then make you sit through a long lecture listing facts and figures from all of the latest research. The dessert was pretty tasty, some sort of chocolate pie. I really did enjoy the evening. I got to dress up and go out with my best guy. I made some new friends. And I got to see this video, a short film by MS Ambassador Kristie Salerno Kent.



Um..."I don't think it's a coincidence that the word Dreams ends in an MS."
Hilarious. (Although, I don't think it was supposed to be funny) Jim and I both agreed that the mall sequence was really great. I think it gave Jim a better understanding of symptoms. It's hard sometimes to describe what I'm going through. From now on, when I'm trying to explain, I'll just pull out my high heels and scuba gear and he can go to town.

"All I Do is Dream of You" by Arthur Freed

I wish that I could express to you the strange and wonderful contentment that I get from from listening to Gene Kelly’s quiet croon send this sweet song into a cloud. Nothing at all like the flash and jump version from the party scene in SINGING IN THE RAIN. It was one of the many surprises that I found in the EMI Music Resource : THE STANDARDS. Amber gave this collection back to me before she left for New York. I can truthfully say that I am glad she held onto it for a while. During it’s furlough, I learned to truly appreciate it. For the last 9 months, I’ve been stumbling happily through a rather large catalogue of Hollywood musicals (thank you Netflix), and pulling Jim kicking and screaming all the way...well maybe not kicking and screaming. He loves Fred Astaire and Gene Kelly, enjoys a good Stanley Donen or George Stevens musical, and the Gershwin, Irving Berlin, Cole Porter, Jerome Kern and Dorothy Fields, and Arthur Freed songs keep bringing smile after smile to his handsomely bearded face. In the midst of this whirlwind of song and dance, I picked up a colleciton of Astaire recordings. I listened to it so much that the words of the silliest tap-dancingest songs stuck in my head for days and days. I listened to it at home, at work in the Cancer Center, in my car. I couldn’t stop. I found my feet tapping along under the covers when I listened to it in bed. I’ve always thought my life a musical filled with these sorts of songs. No one bursts into them in front of me, but Jim can tell you that I definitely burst into them enough for everyone else. The constant flow of Musicals in the mail and the Astaire collection prepared me for the gem that I was returned to me a couple of weeks ago. The Standards... Frank Sinatra? Of course. Dean Martin. Yep. Billie Holliday, Cab Calloway, Mario Lanza, Mel Torma, Ella, Nat King Cole, Tony Bennett...yes. But oh...Sarah Vaughn...Bea Wain with Larry Clinton and his Orchestra....Kitty Kallen...a little bit of Fats Waller...

Awesome. Total Awesomeness.

Tomorrow morning, bright and early, I report to Brookwood Hospital for a short stay. A few days really. For any of you who’ve been missing me at the old St. Vincent’s ER, I’’ve missed you too. I’m in the midst of a relapse. They found some dark spots on my spinal cord. Travmo has suggested that I just get it whitened. Just line up some of those Crest Whitening strips down my back and I’m set. Unfortunately, MS doesn’t work that way. I’ve just got to work through the flare up. The steroid infusion that I’m going to get will help me do it. As is usual with Multiple Sclerosis, there’s no telling what caused the exacerbation, whether it was stress or a seasonal illness set it off. I think that it was the egg sandwich that I got from Whataburger on my way home from the Vulture Whale show a week or so ago. Jim doesn’t quite buy that one.

So. Email me. Call me. Come by. Whatever. Let me know how you’re doing. I’ve spent a good week staring at the TV (mostly TCM, but a little bit of Bravo) (What is up with those Housewives of NYC? Could we not just give them Southern Accents, some Vicoden, and send them to Seaside and say that they are the Housewives of Mountain Brook?) (Dude, Bravo would save like a THIRD in production costs doing that show here.)
As you can see, I’ll be ready for a few friendly faces and some good conversation and you can check out my new Whale patterned PJs. They’re awesome.

Love you!

New Year, New Monster

Introducing:

Sockfield Orestes Fitzcreature







I stitched him together last night while Jim sat at the glass table in the sun room to work on his computer. My parents have commandeered all of the televisions in their house and stacked them one on top of the other to create a Wall of Sports in the living room. So without a television in the sun room and as I was not in the mood to resume one of the fifteen books I have stacked next to my bed, I decided to create something. If any of you are still looking for something to get me as a late Christmas present...I could use a nice, sturdy thimble...actually, I could use ten of them.

--------
song totally stuck in my head today:

Anyone Else But You by The Moldy Peaches



It's been playing on the jukebox in my head ever since Jim and I saw Juno on January 1.

Attention Birmingham:

We have been invaded by inhabitants of the Windy City.



But do not be alarmed, we have lured them into the containment unit on Oxmoor Road also known as the HoJo.




Armed with liquid-filled metal projectiles and burning sticks, the Maid of Dishonor and her treacherous Bride guard the doors of this aquarium-like prison.



They are the warriors of the 4th Wedding, filled with spitfire and vengeance and protected by a impenetrable, flame-retardant combination of nylon and polyester handed to them by the Gods. Do not fear, Dear Citizens. You are well protected.

PS....

I can't stop listening to Gene Krupa's Drums, Drums, Drums

New Years Soul Trip

Jim and I are leaving for Oxford, Mississippi this afternoon. We're meeting up with John Ciba and Rachel and Derek and J.D. at the Wiley and the Checkmates New Years Eve show. This will be our first non-family Adventurfication since my birthday.



I'm so excited! Anyone have any suggestions on where to eat once we get there?

(don't eat the Astronaut Ice Cream)

Museum of Science and Industry, Chicago, Illinois

Never Gonna Dance

"Though, I'm left without a penny,
The wolf was discreet.
He left me my feet....
And so, I put them down on anything
But the la belle,
La perfectly swell romance.
Never gonna dance.
Never gonna dance.
Only gonna love.
Never gonna dance."


I've fallen in love with the sound of Fred Astaire's voice. I sit here in the office at the Cancer Center, legs crossed under the desk, feet tapping, 5th cup of Joe of the day grasped in my 2pm tired hand, fan blowing in my face reminding me that tomorrow I'll be sitting in cool car air all day instead of the broken air conditioning here in my department, and suddenly, over my left shoulder, I hear someone sing to me...


"Have I a heart that acts like a heart,
Or is it a crazy drum,
Beating the weird tattoos
Of the St. Louis Blues?"

We recieved "Swing Time" in the mail a couple of weeks ago....
Jim said that he could tell when a dance number was coming up....not because of the splendid opening banter or a bowing big band intro, but because I would pull the covers up over half of my face and start convulsing...(I'd like to say right now that I have no memory of said seizure but do know that in my mind, at the moment such things may or may not have occured, I was taking Ginger's place as Fred's very capable dance partner...)

"Have I two eyes to see your two eyes
Or see myself on my toes
Dancing to radios
Or Major Edward Bowes?"

Tomorrow, we're driving up to Illinois for Jaime's wedding. Our first big trip together. As I'm typing this, Jim is at his house, checking the list of things to pack.

(Light dress shirt for Saturday afternoon outside wedding featuring hayride) (CHECK)
(Casino Clothes for eve of wedding on a riverboat outside of ST. Louis) (CROSSED OUT)
(Walking shoes for back pasture of Miller Family Farm and Streets of Chicago) (CHECK)

"Though, I'm left without a penny,
The wolf was discreet.
He left me my feet.
And so, I put them down on anything
But the la belle,
La perfectly swell romance.

Never gonna dance.
Never gonna dance.
Only gonna love.
Never gonna dance".

I've driven this trek up to Browstown so many times that it should be a blur, a tunnel of travel...but I find that as I slip over the state line into Tennessee, burn through Nashville, up to Clarksville, over through Bowling Breen, Kentucky, to Paducah and then to the Land of Lincoln, I still take in the scenery bit by bit, dreamily eyeing lakes and fields and rolling hills, captivated. I'm sure I'll tug Jim's sleeve and point ten thousand times tomorrow. He'll smile and take my hand and nod. I wish that he could see these things through my eyes, with my heart... and maybe he will.


"I'll put my shoes on beautiful trees.
I'll give my rhythm back to the breeze.
My dinner clothes may dine where they please,
For all I really want is you.

And to Groucho Marx I give my cravat.
To Harpo goes my shiny silk hat.
And to heaven, I give a vow
To adore you. I'm starting now
To be much more positive.
That's....

Though, I'm left without my Penny,
The wolf was not smart.
He left me my heart.
And so, I cannot go for anything
But the la belle,
La perfectly swell romance.

Never gonna dance.
Never gonna dance.
Only gonna love you.
Never gonna dance."

"Never Gonna Dance"
music by Jerome Kerns and words by Dorothy Fields