First for the bad news...

I owe the IRS again this year; I have for the last four. C'est la vie. I was pretty bummed about this last night, but today is a new day. So, this morning after showering and puttering, I paid my rent, balanced my checkbook, and started on some laundry.

The good news is that I found a stamp. I thought I was all out!

My friend Holly is supposed to be coming to hang out with me today. I say supposed to because most of my plans don't go off these days, and I'm really okay either way it happens today.

Just in case anyone wonders, I changed some of the text in the html code to make it relevant to my own life...


You, my friend are a true individual. You most
likely hate trends and are creative. By seeing
things differently, people either admire you or
think you are a bit strange. I'm guessing you
are an artist. Perhaps a Thomas Kinkade
hater? I hope so. An inspiration to us all,
continue being you! (If you like TK, I'm sorry,
I am just expressing an opinion.)


A Deeper Look Inside Yourself (with pics)
brought to you by Quizilla

Okay, in this "artiste" vein, I want to say that I am formulating a strategem (Amelie!)... Changes to come.

Words/Phrases that I Loathe (Part I):

Nice (worst offender), esp. as in “That’s nice.”
Issue: Nondescript, not substantive
Implication: You don’t care a whit about what’s being discussed.

Good Luck
Issue: Connotes you in no way think the person is going to make it, achieve desired goal, or get what he or she is going for.
Implication: It also strikes me as being dismissive.

New to the collection, is Kind Offer (does anything say kiss my a** quite like “Thank you for your kind offer!”?)
Issue: When used between friends is too formal
Implication: I don’t want anything from you…ever…

Wife in the Desert

In my time of relative social exile, I feel that I am being trained for something very meaningful. First of all, I am learning to love my own company again, I am learning to really cultivate and enjoy my relationship with God again, and I am cooking again. It's not that I consider these things to belong exclusively to wifery, nor am I saying that one learns to be a wife completely in isolation (certainly not!), but it ocurred to me tonight, that among the many things I am learning, how to make room for a man in my heart is one of them. And that can't even begin until I can love solitude, and make my own way in what bears the look of barren country, but is really a gateway to a plentiful harvest.

This is not the entire point of this particular time in my life, but it is a lovely element of what is being brought to pass.

The Wiz

My mother had an LP of this broadway show that she played incessantly through my early childhood. Not the Diana Ross/Michael Jackson Motown version, but the Stephanie Mills as "Dorothy" version. I both loved and hated this album. I loved the emotion I could hear in some of the songs; I hated how often I heard it in our house, and used to feel somewhat imprisoned by the tireless repetition of it. My mother could listen to this album all day while cleaning or just puttering about. To say that it was in heavy rotation is putting it mildly.

Lizz Wright does a version of "Soon as I get home" from that show on her album "Salt," and I found myself wanting to own a recording of the show for myself after listening to her soulful rendition. It was fortunate that BMG distributes the recording on CD, so I ordered it. When I put it in my portable compact disc player this afternoon and heard the opening strains of the first song, I began to cry in memory of my mother and me when I was young (This album was the soundtrack of my childhood from the time I was 3 until I was 5 or 6). Not sadness, but just the immediacy with which the memory of our apartment, her face, how I felt, etc., came rushing back to me, caused me to weep.

I was delighted to read in the liner notes that this show first opened at the Morris A. Mechanic theatre in Baltimore on October 21, 1974. I was just over a year old. It seems so right to me that something so native to my early years should have had its roots here in Charm city.

The tip of a butter knife shattered the glass on my coffeetable. I was just preparing to eat my very late breakfast of French toast with Strawberry syrup. I put Amelie in the vcr, and was getting ready to sit down when the knife slipped off the edge of my plate, hit the glass top of my coffee table, and it bent inward on itself and broke apart in three huge pieces. It was obviously already in distress because of the books that were sitting on top of it. So fragile, that a falling knife could destroy it, but I didn't know to be concerned.

I have been hoping not to have to take the furniture I have to my new apartment. I don't have to worry about the coffeetable, anyway...

Care Packages

I never got them when I was in college, and I didn't expect them. My parents were not/are not the types to think that way, nor were they disciplined enough to go to the post office to mail something unless they absolutely had to. I think I'd like to usher in a trend now that both of my sisters are away at school. I think I want to send them packages from time to time with goodies, interesting articles, presents, etc. I think this will be so fun for me, and hopefully for them too.

I Believe I'll Testify...

I called my sister at her request this afternoon. She told me an amazing story of God's faithfulness to her. Not only did He provide the balance of the tuition she owed the school, but she was left with a hefty balance with which to buy her books. And the thing is that she only found this out today because she left her add/drop slip and notebook that she needed for a class in her dorm room, and was inconvenienced by having to go back to retrieve them. It was in returning that she showed up just in time to hear her phone ringing, and to take the call from the Financial Aid Office that changed everything.

I had been struggling badly with a pervasive sense of doubt all afternoon (about my own life), but this reminder has put my heart and mind to rights for the time being.

Amen!

Oh, and did I mention that due to amazing scheduling graces, she has Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays free this semester?

"Blessed is she who has believed that what the Lord has said to her will be accomplished." Luke 1:45

The above scripture has meant so much to me over the course of the last year. I have returned to it time and again when praying through the main themes of this season of my life. I always run across it, or it is always brought to mind when I am having a hard time hanging on and believing God for the things He has promised me.

I'm not having an especially hard time at the moment, though I recognize that I still have so much to confront, so many patterns to change, so many things I still need and want, the fruition of which is still a ways off. If I were living my life in accordance with the wisdom of the world, which I'm not, there are some things I would have given up on long ago. But God has given me a vision for my life, for my writing, my relationships, all of the things which concern me, and He is bringing that vision to pass. And I am blessed because I believe.

I just made myself another shake, sans hooch. It's just vanilla ice cream, orange juice, mandarin organges, pineapples, and a shot of vanilla. It tastes like a sensual cremesicle. Since I spent last night at Sarah's I still had jambalaya to come home to tonight. I enjoyed the leftovers. I will have one last helping for lunch tomorrow.

Sometime over the course of the next week, I will go to see at least one of the three apartments that is becoming available in the building where I will soon be living. Then starts the process of enlisting help, switching the address on my magazine subscriptions, reserving a truck. All that planning to pick up and leave just as I was getting used to where I am. I love that life keeps moving. I love a new chapter, but not as much as I love the end of a chapter. I like knowing where I've already been, and the bittersweet feeling of knowing I can never have it back.

Weather Permitting...

Freezing Rain shut down my plans with Victoria and Michael. After Quill's departure I started on my Jambalaya, which turned out famously. The Italian sausage, shrimp, chicken, garlic, red onions, stewed tomatoes, and rice seasoned with crushed red pepper, Old Bay, parsley, and black pepper became a stunning creature while simmering together.

When I found out that my plans to go to the cinema were to be postponed, I went to 7-11 and picked up stuff for the milkshake I've been formulating in my mind for a week or so now. It contains vanilla ice cream, mandarin oranges, pineapples, rainbow sherbet, orange juice, and a liberal amount of Jack Daniels. Voila! I tend to like berries in shakes or smoothies, so having none, I added a bit of strawberry jam after tasting the first glass. The verdict? Use frozen or fresh berries if desired. It was fine with the jam, but was better without. I served myself this luscious dessert in a champagne flute.

Since I have the rest of the night to myself, I'm going to read Nick Bantock's The Venetian's Wife.

Yesterday my youngest sister started her away from home college career. My mom and Jim drove her to southern Maryland, and she unpacked her bags in the very dormitory in which I unpacked my own 13 years ago. Is there any drive in the world like the drive to college for the first time?

Last night I did laundry from 5:30 to 11:30 p.m., and I still have a little adjunct load I need to put in at some point today, or tomorrow morning, before I go to spend the rest of the long weekend at Sarah's place.

Today, at about 11, I will meet with the leasing agent at my new apartment building, to give her the security deposit, ask questions, etc. The rest of the afternoon, I'll spend time with Quill, and then I meet up with Victoria and her Michael to see Big Fish at the Charles theatre. Afterward, we'll go to Cafe Hon for bluecollar coffee and dessert.

Right now, though, I'm just in my fleece bathrobe, drinking coffee, and listening to Charlie Parker.

Historic

Not only is today Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr's actual birthday, but it is the day I found out that I am approved for the apartment close to the university (scant $99.00 security deposit), went to the University for a very informative talk about the program (all of which I already knew due to extensive, outside research), and handed in my application. Most people really were there to find out whether the program is a fit for them. I was there to get past the formalities and get on with it. I was almost bursting during the whole presentation. Anyway, my time finally came. And I got a nice commemorative pen out of the deal.

A dusting of confectioner’s sugar

I prayed for God to hold back the hand of the snow we were expecting overnight. In addition to the fact that I need to grocery shop and run errands, I also have to attend the open house at the University tonight. Tonight is the night I hand in my application and get face time with people who have some say in determining the course of my academic future. I did not want this event to be cancelled because of weather.

So when I awakened this morning and saw what looked like a mere dusting of sugar on top of French toast, I was pleased to say the least. I was thankful too.

In addition to praying away the snow, I have also been praying for increasing intimacy with God, and I have been praying for Gordon, that he might really come to a greater sense of his unique purpose in the world. It will do wonders for his sense of self in relationship to God and his art, too, which I want for him so much.

God got me alone in a room…

As many of you know, I anticipated that living alone would give me the freedom and time to entertain Gordon to my heart’s content. I thought our then obviously blooming friendship would really have the room it needed to become something even more special. I was thinking, “hey, I’m 30, I have a good job, I’m living alone in the city, now it’s time for a little romance.”

Shortly after Sarah moved out, my social life, with the exception of the ample time I still spent with her, went into drought mode. Gordon became scarce, The Sara with no “h” became involved in a romantic relationship of her own, and my phone almost never rang.

A bone chilling truth made itself known. Every time I sat on my couch in front of the TV I could feel something wanting my attention. Something from inside my own heart and mind, and it scared me. No, it absolutely terrified me. So, I put on my headphones and cranked the volume. It wasn’t enough to put on the stereo; I had to have the music pounding or swirling right in my ear. Or I busied myself with books, to read about someone else’s life, or I watched television. But, I could never let there be silence.

Irrationally, I burst out crying several times sitting on my couch in the middle of viewing my favourite syndicated sitcoms, when the internal roar and the ache that is always with me got to be too much. I felt alone and abandoned, completely rejected, and I could not understand why God was not letting me enjoy this time in my life, why he had engineered the era of my freedom, and “alone at last” to be a big drag.

I tried to think it through. I thought “what else do we need to address, God. I’ve been to counseling. I know I have father-issues, I know I struggle with self-hatred, I know I have deep-seated anger toward my parents. I don’t know how else to talk about these things. How many more times do we have to go over this?” Essentially, I tried to reason with my Psyche and the Almighty. Neither of them budged.

So there I sat in my tan castle on Calvert Street with a moat a mile wide and a mile deep, with no one coming near.

Change, when it happens, is often imperceptible at first. When I look back, I can see very clearly marked “check points” where I began to think differently, see things differently. I had the advice of the faithful Sarah, and the faithful and enthusiastic Catchka, cheering me on, encouraging me to enjoy my life right now, just as it was, the whole time, but there was a point at which I was operating out of that paradigm for myself.

I began to clearly intuit the very voice of God talking to me, giving me insight and understanding as I cooked dinner, or cleaned my place. It wasn’t perfect. Sometimes I still resisted. I saw myself wanting to be miserable, insisting on what I felt was the ideal scenario. How could I listen to God without new furniture and the boyfriend of my choice?

I had a few much-needed meltdowns, and I stopped checking my tears. I found that when I sobbed, there was still more sobbing to do. When I stopped trying to drown out the snotty-nosed brat of my childhood that kept poking me in the heart, wanting some answers, and just cried, really grieved the things that I was still carrying that made me ashamed, I found that there were memories underneath the memories that I needed to face and acknowledge.

There is a profound difference between intellectualization and acknowledgment. I’ve just started to learn that important distinction.

I’m leaving out so many things, because this post is already very long, but I see now that what God has done is get me alone in a room, and once he had my undivided attention, he started to show me my own heart. Then he brought me to a place of deeper intimacy with himself by showing me his heart.

Search Query

I like to look, from time to time, at the reports that RetroStats (see Icon on right) generates for daily, weekly, and monthly activity on my blog. At least one person arrived here at "Vestiges" by searching the phrase "eggplant parmesan induces labor," and someone else "falling ill and feung shui," yet another by wondering "what does Christy Turlington's Wedding ring look like?"

Many of the items on the query page make complete sense, and if you read this blog regularly, you will see that the list is like a roll call of things that I have mentioned here and there. In any case, I love the idea that someone who wanted sketches of falling leaves was directed to my page, that only conceptually has anything to do with leaves.

I wonder, too, if anyone who ever happened upon my journal has kept reading, even though it wasn't what he or she was looking for.

Neo Soul (Cooking with a buzz)

Who knew that Cabernet Sauvingnon I had (open) from Christmas was still good? Without thinking I poured myself a glass (after tasting) while I cooked. I hadn't eaten since lunch at about 11:45 a.m. and it went right to my head. I wasn't sloppy or confused (though handling knives and putting a roast in the oven probably shouldn't be attempted while tipsy), but I was in the place of ease where you know the old judgement is at least a little compromised. I had the best time!

The cds I ordered from BMG came today, and include K.D. Lang and Tony Bennett's duets, and the man Rolling Stone called "Your new soul controller," Anthony Hamilton. You couldn't tell me I wasn't totally fine singing along to "Cornbread, Fish & Collard Greens" while making that succulent roast, with carmelized red onions, roasted potatoes, and butter sauteed brussel sprouts. I felt amazing and beautiful.

Everyone should cook this way.

While I've been tucked away in my downtown baltimore castle (read highrise), hidden away up here waiting to be rescued (ha!), I've been waxing experimental with food. For the most part, I don't do recipes. I'm all instinct, intuition, and cheap knock-offs of the Barefoot Contessa's ideas. For the last several years, for a number of emotional and practical reasons, I have not given free reign to my creativity in the kitchen. Now, however, it is being reawakened. Today, completely spontaneously, I decided to make sundried tomato dip. I didn't have any cream cheese, so I made do with mayo and sour cream. It would have had more body and weight if I had had the cream cheese, but I liked this prototype a lot.

I'm excited to try and make jambalaya next weekend. Sarah has given me a couple of great "starter" cookbooks, and there is a recipe in one of them I'm going to use as a jumping off point.

I started a prayer and reflection journal. I have not been faithful to journals that require me to write in them for a long time. This is why blogger is such a lifesaver. I compose better on the computer than on paper, and I can edit or correct errors as I see fit. But, with that said, I received a funky, retro spiral bound Old Navy Journal from Victoria for Christmas. Last week I started to use it to record impressions I receive from the Holy Spirit as a direct result of my prayers, as well as a place to record prayers I'm praying, scriptures I'm reading. I find that having to write these things out with my own hand makes them even more real to me.

Alberta visited me yesterday just as I was watching an MSNBC documentary on the "Manson Women." She wanted my input on some throw pillows and whether or not they worked on her couch. She talked about wanting to bring more colour (through art and other types of accents like pillows, throw covers, etc.) into her apartment. I told her that she should talk to Gordon about procuring something of his. I debated waiting to put this bug into his ear until he returns from Mexico (he'll be there for 2 weeks on business), but I wanted to call him right away. Maybe it was a copout, maybe I sold out. Maybe I was just itching for a remotely legitimate reason to call him. Either way, what's done is done, and we did have a pleasant exchange. He was warm on the phone, which was nice. I continue to be baffled by certain elements of our friendship at the moment, but I guess not analyzing it is the best thing to do. I don't need anymore tension headaches.

I did not end up hanging out with my friend. It's very curious because we were all set this time. She'd confirmed and everything. At the last minute a totally legitimate obstacle arose, and I found that I felt the same sense of peace I've had everytime our plans have been rerouted lately. I did chat with her a bit via Instant Messenger last night, and I told her that I thought we should wait to try to reschedule because it was clear that this is not supposed to happen right now. She was on the same page with me, and was relieved that I was not upset.

Am intrigued by the concept of the altered book which I learned about from Devika's journal. I love this idea...

I made myself a cocoon of blankets and pillows last night and slept deeply until this morning when I woke up on my own at 9:43 a.m. I'd been planning on making french toast for the Saturday morning breakfast meal, so I padded out to the livingroom, which felt like an inferno (my bedroom was a glacier) and got started almost right away (does it go without saying that I put coffee on first?). Since I am still without a microwave (and with the exception of a few times here and there when it would have been more convenient for reheating, I find that I don't miss it), I heated the syrup up in a sauce pan, and added butter to it. The toast itself I made with more vanilla extract than necessary so the flavour would really come through.

The Northeast is uncommonly cold these days, even for this time of year, so as I munched on my food and watched the Top 20 Vh1 video countdown, I started dreading having to go to the bank to deposit a check in the amount of 10.70 from JC Penney (I'd overpaid my bill--Ironically Christmas shopping rendered that credit moot, but whatever).

Just after I got out of the shower my sister called me and asked me if I felt like talking. Of course I did, so we chatted happily about everything and nothing for about an hour. In addition to going off to school next week (Yay St. Mary's!), she's also had some other drama (relational) come down the pike in the last couple of weeks. It is way too involved and confusing to go into here (it is also not my story to tell). I will say this, however. Nothing that is done in secret won't be brought out into the open. No lie will endure forever. Things are okay, they are working out in her favour, and for that, I'm happy.

I checked the mail on my way to the bank and saw Devika's letter waiting for me, and I felt so blessed before I even read it. That is how her letters always make me feel. I put it in the pocket of my barn/field coat and cut a path through wind so thick and sharp it made my head hurt. So now I am $10.70 richer. I can buy an overpriced lunch at Wholefoods or something :). As soon as I got back into the lobby of my building I opened the envelope as quickly and carefully as I could and started reading before the elevator door opened. I started forming a reply in my head as I pored over the paragraphs. I found myself wishing she was right here so I could just tell her everything I wanted to say in response. I can't wait to craft my next letter, which will not take me two months to send this time.

I'm supposed to hang out with a friend tonight who's been less than responsible lately now that there's a man in her life. This is our third attempt to get together of late. I'm not feeling like it will happen, I'll be honest. I've made myself a promise, though. If she calls me to reschedule once more, I'm not going to buy into the madness. I'll say "Don't call me; I'll call you." I have a basic rule about things like this. When it starts being too difficult to schedule things with people, and it's more of an obligation than anything else, that's life trying to tell you something. I know the word 'organic' is quicly losing its meaning due to overuse (I'm as guilty as anyone else), but when seeing people is not organic anymore, leave it alone...

Okay, Top 3 Reasons I know I am Getting Older...

1. I look forward to religious programming on Sunday evenings
2. I like to eat dinner before 6 p.m. every night now
3. I forget things I just discussed a few seconds ago, and when a topic is reintroduced, I have no idea what anyone is talking about

When the Cat's Away...

My immediate supervisor is out in the field today, and I find that I feel more like playing and blogging than doing anything else. I try to maintain a professional attitude and work ethic no matter what is happening, whether I have a good feeling about my company at the moment or not. Even when I like the person to whom I report, there is something so "last day of school" about knowing the boss is out, and no one's there to see me making an entry to my personal, online journal.

Anyway, last night I made meatballs, and I felt good about the effort, though I think they needed something more...

I've also been thinking about the need blogging meets for me, and whether there won't be a time when I no longer need to do it in order to satisfy that element of my heart.

Ricotta and Preserves

My creamy chicken and stuffing dish came out very well tonight. Moist and buttery. But I had a sour taste in my mouth leftover from events that happened at work. My supervisor is on a subtle (to those who aren't on the wrong end of it) power trip. I was not the one affected, but I see that personal preferences are clouding her judgement and reason. It bothers me more than I can say.

But this is not a blog about work. So, after debriefing with Bina via phone, I put a couple of spoonfuls of ricotta and apricot preserves in a bowl, and let the smooth cheese and cool fruit sooth my palette, and to some extent, my nerves.

I am still enjoying Lizz's cd and a curious (somewhat fun) string of e-mails with Gordon. I'm not able to really give a comprehensive assessment of where things stand with him. They are not bad, by any means, and I have had glimpses into the closeness I had been building with him. E-mail, however, is not intimacy. I know that. So, I don't think of our communiques in this forum as a solid indication of victory or normalcy. I have no idea what to make of it.

I find that I am much more intentionally prayerful these days, and my reliance on the Holy Spirit gives me an assurance that I am not in this alone, and that by grace, I am making the best choices that I can.

I just accidentally put my Cds in the fridge with my lunch. It's so cold outside that it's made me disoriented. Nothing much to report at the moment. Next week there is an openhouse on the campus where I hope to be attending grad school. Am leaving work a bit early that day so I can make it.

Selfish

I'm at the point in my life where news of other people's engagements depresses me. I do want them to be happy, but I'm starting to get that feeling I'd get in grade school during PE when I realized there were three people (of which I was one) left to be picked for teams,and I wasn't nearly as popular as the other two, who were decidely unpopular.

Back from the Market

I love the concept of marketing, the acquisition of wares, stockpiling, collecting, all of it. Walking to the neighborhood grocer is so different from driving to the megastores that live in the suburbs. It's so classic. I've got no complaints about superstores. I like convenience, variety, and abundance as much as anyone. But it isn't charming, really. It's at times like this that I'm glad I don't have a car, or I might forget such a simple pleasure as carrying my own food bags home on a brisk winter day.

Tonight I am making shrimp with sundried tomatoes and garlic over angel hair pasta. Maybe I'll open my bottle of white wine from Christmas. I was tempted to invite G over for dinner, but I don't want to make this too easy for him. We've been e-mailing again, and I have thawed somewhat where he's concerned. Even still, I need to learn to let myself, my company, and my good graces be sought after, etc. So it's me, John Coletrane, and maybe a good book later.

Last night Sarah and I went shopping for new handbags. I got this beautiful 70s-style leather purse with butterflies all over it, a new pair of thin, but large silver hoop earrings, and a shocking red velvet newsboy cap. As a gift Sarah got me a lovely new silver ring (it's replaced my pitifully worn spoon ring that I recently threw away).

'If you ever get close to a human...'


[ human behaviour ] - but, oh, to get
involved in the exchange of human emotions is
ever so satisfying. Life can be
interesting. You understand its ups and downs
and mostly just try to live through them. enjoy
the things that are good and learn from
mistakes. your curiosity is always at an
amazing level and exploring all that you can
makes you happy.


What Bjork Song Are You Most Like? w/ Pictures
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'The rain is in love with you darling; it's kissing you everywhere.'


Rain: You are the sound of rain. You have two
important sides. There is your strong, powerful
side and your calm, gentle side. Both are very
important. Rain also reflects a bit of darkness
in your personality. It isn't bad, just shows
that along with the good, you also can see bad,
which can come in handy. (please rate my quiz)


What Sound Are You?(now w/ pics)
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I don't even know any Bon Jovi Albums after 'Slippery When Wet'...


You're Stranger In This Town!
You're very soulful. You do things you believe in.
You sometimes do things without thinking but in
the end they turn out okay.


Which Bon Jovi Album Are You?
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Open Letter

since i last heard your voice i have started wearing new gloves (i thought i lost the old ones, but as it turns out, i had not) and thrown my spoon ring, yellowing and bent, away. i wear my other ring on the opposing thumb, and my watch battery died. these are things you would have noticed one by one, as they happened, but all at once, will appear imperceptible to you when you next see my face. you will only perceive that something has changed. these are the threads that tightly tethered your understanding of my heart to your spirit, but you can never understand what you will not observe with devoted diligence. i am fading from the lexicon of things you know like the back of your hand.

Duty and Loyalty: You serve your purpose and do
what you must do. People would consider you
someone to rely on, and one who keeps his/her
word when he/she gives it.


Which Characteristic From the Samurai Code Matches You Best? (You may find out your best trait)
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New Year's Eve with Coletrane

My new year's eve was eventful. I could go into the valet parking heist at the Watergate Hotel, but I won't. I will instead tell you that in spite of efforts to get an early start, everything about last night involved traffic and decidedly late starts. Mardina, my good friend from highschool, was about 45 minutes late to get me because of the snarl of vehicles on 95. It put our entire evening back so far, and given that she still needed to run an errand, and we needed to eat, we did not leave her apartment until 8:15. We had resigned ourselves to missing our show time at the Kennedy Center. We figured we would just go to the party that was being held there. I hated that she'd wasted her money (the ticket was a christmas present to me from her), but at the same time I felt uncharacteristically unstressed about this time warp in which we seemed to be trapped.

When we arrived at the theatre, the garage was full--which led to the Watergate scandal, but that's a story for a different time. Anyway, I felt resigned at that point. I thought 'Well, we should just try to hang out someplace else. This isn't happening.' But through a series of events, we ended up getting inside the Center just in time for the 9:30 show (which had been sold out when she tried to get tickets for that slot originally). We explained our parking woes to the head usher and not only ended up being able to be seated in the sold out auditorium but in Trustees' seats, since no trustees were coming to the show that night.

Cedar Walton and the Timeless All Stars came out and announced that we would all be partaking of the "wizardry" of John Coletrane's "Bluetrain." There was a ripple of awe that swept, audibly, through the audience. When those opening strains were pushed through the trombone, tenor sax, and alto sax, I felt that I was at home in the world. Those notes all bumping up against each other and swirling around together are like a favourite pair of jeans or shoes to me.

The second half of the evening was Lizz Wright and her trio. Her vocal range (contralto), depth, and timbre arrested me, and I was filled with awe. Fortunately, I was able to get her cd after the show (another gift from Mardina).

I ended up getting home a lot later than I wanted to today, but God really blessed me through my time with my old friend. The ringing in of 2004 at the Kennedy Center after a night of Jazz just felt like God talking to my soul, letting me know that all kinds of beauty is mine for the taking.