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An Unusual Saturday

This was an unusual day. Not because I hung out with Kenny Rogers or was cheered on by Roberta Flack. Kinda the opposite.

My boys are gone, spending the weekend with Grandma.

My husband is gone, on tour somewhere in Europe.

I have this glorious apartment to myself!

I did some things I never do —

I woke up about 9:20 am, and then lay in bed for another 25 minutes just to make sure I didn’t want more.

I took a bath! Relaxing, though I spent part of that on the phone (kinda weird, I know) with my mom and with UPS checking on the snow boots that were supposed to arrive at her house yesterday for Maceo and Van. No dice. I guess even heroic Zappos was daunted by the storm.

I stayed sitting down for my entire breakfast – no one asked me to get anything — and read (well skimmed) the New York Times in one sitting!

I wrote out the list of songs that we’re recording next month to tape on my studio wall for quick reference. This should not have been a big deal, but I had been blowing it off somehow.

I referred to said list while practicing a couple songs. First “Don’t Rush Me” at Wurlitzer piano, then “Feed Your Baby” on guitar. (These are not the only commands in my recent song titles – it’s my new thing I guess)

I went outside in the sunny gorgeous snowy day to shovel around our car so it’s ready when I go to pick up the boys tomorrow. Shoveling in the city has the added element of removing the piled-up snow from the side of your street-parked car left by the plows. I heard a grown man passing by say “This is awesome snow for snowballs!” I sweated. (actually I do that all the time, not while exercising per say, but while lugging kids and stuff). I shoveled some more alongside an enterprising guy named Patrick who offered to help and did so even when I told him I had no cash and couldn’t compensate him. “When you love what you’re doing, you can volunteer..” he said as we parted. Oh those nasty New York City people!

Then, I turned the laptop.. Nothing new there, except the restraint displayed in my waiting until late in the afternoon to fire ‘er up.

I ate lunch at 4:30 pm.

I looked up Mr. Crump’s European tour itinerary to see where he is today – Gdansk, Poland. I never get to type “Gdansk” either.

More computer/inbox/hustle until 9 ish, then some dinner of toast spread with weird but not unhealthy condiments that I wanted to clear out of the fridge. Usually there are people around to stop me from such indignities.

Then, an adventure.

I bundled myself up well for the gorgeous and clear 15º night and walked 2 miles to a party celebrating the launch of my friend Porter’s literary travel magazine, Nowhere I didn’t know a soul, except for my brother Josh who was busy bartending for the 600 or so young writers and other mostly white hipsters (not sure exactly what that word means, except I’m pretty sure it’s accurately applied here) assembled in a cavernous art workshop/warehouse right on the Gowanus canal. Upstairs from some huge and interesting sculptures — some suspended from the ceiling — was the dimly-lit main gathering space with spirited live music and evocative giant-sized travel writing projected and scrolling down one wall. I spoke pleasantly with an understated young writer just arrived 4 months ago from India and exchanged information – his written gracefully but illegibly in my notebook, as I see now. Around midnight I started the 2-mile walk back home.

Alive! And sore.

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