I'm afraid you're not going to get much out of me this week. For several reasons:
- It's Holy Week. Which means that once again, I am spending a crazy amount of time down at the church with my choir, rehearsing for all the Easter hullabaloo. We Catholics specialize in hullaballoo. And this Joe, our new choir director is a TASKMASTER. And he has whipped us into shape, I'm telling you. We're sounding damned good, if I do say so myself. On Good Friday, we're singing a Tre Ore, which means "three hours" for you non-Latin speakers. We're singing a cantata - "The Seven Last Words of Christ" by Theodore Dubois. It's big and dramatic, and we get to sing stuff like "Crucifige eum!" (crucify him) really loud. After the seventh and final word of Christ ("Consummatum est!" - It is finished!), the organist goes wild, recreating an earthquake with the organ. Apparently, for an organist, this is great fun, and they've been known to throw their entire bodies on the keys. Then on Easter, we're singing a whole butt-load of Handel, my personal favorite composer to sing - "Worthy is the Lamb/Amen" from the Messiah, and "Sing Unto God" from Judas Maccabaeus. It's all very excellent, but a lot of work.
- I've foolishly chosen this week to redecorate our bedroom. The first step is painting. Pray for me. More on this as events unfold.
- I have a cold. It's not a raging, rotten, crippling cold, but it is still a bummer, and I keep having sudden and passionate sneezing fits.
So while I struggle through this week, I will give you a few...
...still hosted by the lovely Stacy, Keely still playing hooky.
I hate it when my younger, sluttier life catches up with me. There is this guy who I went out with a few times long, long ago. It was not a deep or meaningful relationship. Well...he has turned up in my life again. He lives in our neighborhood. And as huge as Los Angeles is, it can also be something of a small town. I run into this man EVERYWHERE. It's become a bit of a joke to me. And it can be awkward. We always chat cordially and make silly small talk and that's it. So the other day, I ran into him for the FOURTH time in a week, this time at the grocery store. I was cringing at the sight of him, because I looked SO bad - wearing the worst possible version of my "uniform" with no make up and my hair up on top of my head a la Pebbles Flintstone. We chatted and made awkward jokes as usual. But he seemed particularly uncomfortable, and we parted quickly. When I got back to my car, I looked into the rear view mirror, and realized that I had an enormous piece of the Trader Joe's Seaweed Snack I had been eating earlier stuck to my front tooth. Sad.
Have y'all heard of Uncombable Hair Syndrome? It's a real condition, I kid you not. I heard about it on NPR, and I looked it up on Wikipedia, so it must be true. According to the folks at Wiki, Uncombable Hair Syndrom "is a rare structural anomaly of the hair" and "the underlying structural anomaly is longitudinal grooving of the hair shaft, which appears triangular in cross section. There usually is no family history, though the characteristic hair shaft anomaly can be demonstrated in asymptomatic family members by scanning electron microscopy." Whatever the hell that means. But the result is...
EEK! I had been worrying a lot about the state of Jude's hair in the morning, but this makes me feel much better. I fear that the only treatment for Uncombable Hair Syndrome is a hat.
I am LOVING my new Sunday night TV shows. First, is the new AMC drama, "The Killing". Dang it's good. Excellent acting, excellent writing. Creepy mystery/whodonit but heavily character driven. And it has that dark, dreary, murky supposed-to-be-Seattle-but-it's-shot-in-Vancouver look. I HIGHLY recommend it.
And then the new "Upstairs, Downstairs"! Oh, how I loved the original "Upstairs, Downstairs". Mama and I obsessed over it! We would banish Daddy from the room and huddle together and watch every minute of it. And the new one has not disappointed me at all. Still produced by the wonderful Jean Marsh, the story has progressed to the 1930s, the same period as "The King's Speech". The Bellamy's are gone, and 165 Eaton Place has been purchased by a young and ambitious couple. Housemaid Rose is drawn back in as housekeeper. So British upper-crusty yummy. Just what I need as a lead in to the bit royal wedding next week.
Here's a little something to get you in the mood for Easter...
Okay, I am off to tend my cold. I can't believe I've given up the NyQuil. Dang. Go visit Stacy!