Sometimes I do.

Which is when I steal away.
I close my mouth, swallow my apologies,
and play music.

I did this tonight.
It helps so much.

I recorded a cover. I have the whole thing down now. AFter I messed it up while performing at a cabaret in NYC a couple weeks ago. Oh well, you really can’t take yourself too seriously. Especially when you’re covering something by Dr. Dre and Eminem, I guess.

It’s funny, it took me a full two days, I think, just to memorize the FIRST LINE, “I told the world one day I would pay it back, say it on tape and lay it, record it, so that one day I could play it back…”

That line just kept alluding me. I could not wrap my brain around it, and it would not stick in my memory. Then it became my weird little mantra I said over and over in my head until it finally made a kind of rhythmic sense to me. Then, the rest came pretty easy after that.

Anyway, the song:

You wonder how these things begin.
Well, this begins with a glen.
It begins with a season which,
For want of a better word,
we might as well call–September.
It begins with a forest where the woodchucks woo
And leaves wax green.
And vines entwined like lovers, try to see it.
Not with your eyes, for they are wise.
But see it with your ears:
The cool green breathing of the leaves.
And hear it with the inside of your hand:
The soundless sound of shadows flicking light.

–excerpt from The Fantasticks

It’s beautiful, isn’t it?
Gives me chills.
And also?
It’s from another lifetime.
Back when I was so young–even my thoughts were young.
They were the color of mirrors, I think;
they reflected what was around me,
and what was around me happened to look so innocuous at the time.
And some of it was.
Like, these words–they’re still beautiful.
Even though the only reason I know about them is–
well, is because of him.
Sometimes my head would hurt so badly.
I’d lay in the dark and he’d sit by me.
“Please tell me about September,” I’d say.
And he would.
That’s a good memory.
It’s okay to acknowledge that whatever has happened since does not discredit everything.
Like the fact that these words were beautiful then and are beautiful now.
And that there was a girl in the dark who felt completely safe when she listened to them.
And that whatever that was is a part of me now.
And I’m glad to be me now.
And I’m glad I was me then, too.

And those words–I don’t know why they pricked my consciousness tonight, but I don’t mind that they did.
And I think this is a good thing.

Which she wasn’t, thankfully.
And considering the fact that she never did marry King Henry VIII, that’s probably not gonna happen anytime soon.

But the thing is, I’ve been feeling like that chicken lately. The one with its head cut off, I mean.

And it’s funny how when it rains, it seems to pour.

( Yes, let’s see just how many cliches I can fit in this one post!).

Because I, along with my brother Jonathan, have been busy putting a musical–The Story of Esther–on its feet, and well, it’s the day of the show, y’all (which sadly, is NOT a cliche, but it is a quote from Waiting for Guffman so should count for something, right?)! But all this to say that this week has been tech week.

No problem.
Except that this week is also when a casting company has decided they want to see me.
Every day since Wednesday.
Now both are awesome–Esther and getting seen by this casting company–but together?

Let’s see what kind of fancy footwork can be done to make it work (as Tim Gunn would say!).

So wednesday I drove to NYC and drove back for rehearsal. Then I recorded with Shane. And “recording with Shane” meant that I plopped down on a pillow and fell asleep while Shane and Pat worked hard.

When I asked Shane if I could hear the tracks later he asked me if I knew the story of the Little Red Hen. He was teasing, but still. Good point.

Thursday I drove back to the city, danced to the point where I could have maybe thrown up, had I been the kind that does that, which I don’t, and then drove back to Delaware. I stopped to sing three songs with Shane at a concert and then made it to help run a cue to cue tech rehearsal into a dress rehearsal.

And then today.
I HAVE to be back by seven. I accompany this show and nobody else even knows the music remotely. So I got myself a real nice little Amtrak ticket and man, does it feel luxurious to be all relaxed and not having to pay attention or worry that I’ll get stuck in traffic or even sit up cause, girl! you’re driving! that ain’t no joke!

Instead, I’m all relaxed on the train. And I’m On my way back from NYC and it takes not even an hour and a half to get there, compliments of the speedy Acela Express.

And I’ll make the show tonight.
And tomorrow I don’t have to get up and go to NYC, which sort of feels like a day off, by this point.

So yes, this chicken has found her head once again.

And because I was negligent in documenting the last time I mentioned getting out of bed with some mad bed head to show for my night, I decided I’d at least capture it today. Cause it was good.

And you’re welcome, Mandy Hornbuckle.

So this is what morning looked like.
And yes, bed head comes in many different varieties. Lately I have been showcasing the kind with roots.

And once I tamed my bed head with a headband, I went on a hike with some lovely people who share my last name.

Judah caught a frog. Or maybe a toad. I don’t think there was a final say, so they ended up calling him Frog-Toad.

And what a lovely little Frog-Toad he was.

And for a hot minute, Judes and I swapped accoutrement. He wore my pink headband while I wore his hat and it suited us well, I think.

Oh, and my brother and I stood on a log together.

And we talked about life and how good it is now, and how unbelievable it’s been and how, man, we’re not sure how we made it here, exactly, but it sure looks a lot better than we ever thought it could.

And we didn’t particularly mean the log, but we could have cause that was nice, too.

Oh, and also, you might not have realized this, but I have a fairy for a niece.

And the woods suit Cosi just fine, I think.

And then tonight Shane and I sang some songs at two different places and with the exception of me messing up just a few lyrics (sorry, Shane!), I think we did well. We added two new songs to our set, which is fun–and now this means that we don’t even have to play every one of our songs to fill out a set. We can pick and choose, which is a nice little luxury.

It was a pretty good Friday, I think.

Oh! except my poor brother and nephew wandered around Newark looking for us to hear us play and never did find us, which is probably not exactly how they wanted to spend their friday night.

So, except for that sad story, it was the kind of Friday that I didn’t mind at all.

Well, that, and more embarrassing.

Like tonight, when I was innocently referring to how my friend came over and showed up with a small bag of cookies, but ended up saying this:

And then Jimmy showed up with his small package…

But then I couldn’t even finish my thought because I realized what it sounded like I had said and so I started laughing while trying to explain that there was a huge difference between what I said and what I meant.

But, really.

His small package?!?

Yeah, we then spent the rest of the night trying to shimmy that little gem of a phrase into as many of our conversations as possible.

And thank God for humor. I was talking to a friend of mine who has been well acquainted with grief herself and we both agreed that sometimes it comes down to either laughing or dying.

And so it’s really nice when there are moments that make the former option easy.

And it’s also nice when you play games with your family and you find yourself doing something as dumb as pouring water over your head because you’re playing Truth or Dare and you had tried to give that little dare to your mom, but she turned around with a rebound card and there you are, poised with the water over your head, thinking how this is not one of the worst things you’ve had to endure, by far.

But don’t take my word for it.

See for yourself.