To Our Broken Past We'll Wave Goodbye

I went to the last concert on my calendar for the year last night. Ian Noe. I feel like Nikola and I chased this guy over the entire southeast for three years. We just never could get in the same room with him, between events and cancellations and unexpected plot twists. He was exactly as I expected. I sure do love a musician with vocal that crack every once in a while. And one of those Kentucky boys could basically sing a Chinese menu and pick and I'd just say "Shut up and take my money."

I made a new friend, Lauren, last night. She was a ton of fun and sat at the bar with me behind the hat. Seriously, big hats ought to be outlawed at seated listening room shows. Behind me was a pair of brothers standing just over my right shoulder. I watched them all night. They were adorable. Just so close and love each other so much. I told them after the show that it was a pleasure to be in their company and witness that fraternity. So the younger one hit on me. Then when he realized that his 26 years were insufficient, attempted to offer me up the brother, ten years older. I enjoyed watching them, but then the speaking ruined it. Typical.

This year, I kept a spreadsheet of which shows I wanted to go to and which I'd bought tickets for and which I went to see. The final count is 35. I managed to somehow skip Writers on the Storm., the first time around. I didn't buy a ticket. I have to watch those carefully. It seems both clinical and pensively introspective to quantify something so important to my life that way. So I thought that maybe next year, I'll quantify other things. How many paintings will I do? How many grants will I win? How many books will I read? Hell, why stop there? Why not count cups of coffee, "I love yous," meals with other people, perfect gifts exchanged? How do you count these moments that way? Quantity vs. quality.

Before the show yesterday, I painted. I think it's one of the best mountains I've ever done. It's an upward arc from here, really. I'm working on a request. I love and hate these sort. "Paint me something" with little direction. It lets me really exercise creative freedom, which I love, but also makes me want to paint the perfect thing for someone. That's hard. It will definitely have to be something with a moon. I think I could just paint moons forever, in all their phases, and that just gave me the best idea. It's something I've never done before, but you know, I love that sort of thing. I'm going to have to unpack the Cricut. I always do my best painting when my heart feels it.

Today, I've done nothing but go to the grocery store. I must be in recovery mode. I've been officially off work for a week and I've done so much sleeping and homey stuff. I can officially let folks in my house now and not be embarrassed at the state of the place. I think I spend half my life getting cat hair off my furniture. I should host a little party.

I want to cook today. Something lately makes me want to do all the homey things. I think cube steak, gravy, biscuits, mashed potatoes, and peas. I'm happy to be at home, warm and comfortable with my kitties, my writing, my books, my easel, and my kitchen. I'm perfectly content to be home alone on a Friday night. I can think of at least one person I'd like to have here, but I'm happy as a clam anyway.

I'm editing down a few photos that I took last week. I love taking pictures. I never thought I'd want to take pictures of people. I always loved macro shots of nature. But in the past years, I've gotten so that I love catching a fleeting expression or posture or a moment of movement, unique and individual to each person it's attached to.

I got to hear some snips of a recording I'm excited to hear. Pedal steel. See above about Chinese menu. And mandolin. But I can guarantee the lyrics will read much better than a Chinese menu. One of the cleverest songwriters I've ever met, still carrying a heart right out there on the sleeve. Those are rare. I feel lucky that I got to see it first hand.

Tomorrow is the wedding for one of our board members. The very one who asked me that time "What will it change if you get what you want?" Kind of a turning point. I'm excited about it. A chance to all get together and eat and celebrate. And I won't have to plan it or clean up after it! Major win!

I don't think I'd have ever made it to where I am without that talk from him those months ago. I wouldn't trade anything for where I am right now. I'm happy and healthy and making art and making change. I'm getting to keep company with someone who not only helps my happy, but someone with whom I have so much in common and so much to connect over. I never would have seen that coming. But someone else did. Someone I trust based simply on the goodness in her. I can't recall a time in my life when I was happier. I promise not to get anyone's name tattooed this time though. Can't guarantee that everyone would have the good grace to die in the end. I think he'd have liked that joke. He was kind of a sick fuck.

I expect my phone will ring a little later. Probably about the time I' up my ears in a hot bath. I love my tub with my little crystals and rocks my friends have given me. The conch I brought up from the bottom of the Caribbean myself through that clear, Tiffany blue water, and chucked it onto the back of the boat before the captain  rinsed it in the salt water before we ate it off a cutting board right there, sashimi. My favorite candles that I couldn't have before. Maybe slap one of those bath bombs in. I think I have a chamomile. I'll tuck myself into bed, warm and clean. I'm a party on a Friday night.