Now Playing -
Springsteen in concert on CBS, and on tape.
Now Eating -
Now Feeling -
Now Tweeting
- Melanie
Musical "notes" from My Dinner with Parents:
~Mom asked if we saw the Grammys (nope), and what did we think of "that Nora Jones?" She was disappointed when I told her that yes, I'd bought the album because of exposure to her on 'FUV, but that after listening I now think of her as so much background music. She's not terribly interesting. She's good dinner party music.
~And did we see "that Bruce Springsteen? I like him, but he yells so much!" Yeah, Mom, he's right up there with Natalie Cole, another "screamer," in her words. (And don't get her started on Mel Torm� or Miles Davis. Apparently, Mom had some bad jazz experiences in her formative years.) But she only watches Bruce for Steve Van Zandt, her honey. I asked, "Do you like him with his Sopranos bouf, or with the do-rag?" The do-rag. I actually got my mother to say "do-rag." She kills me sometimes, the Mom does.
~And we heard at least 8 of the Sinatra songs from my show during dinner. Occupational hazard when you're dining in an Italian restaurant. Mom asked whether we should tell the staff about my show...umm, probably not since only a fraction of them are actually Italian. She means well.
Oy. I've had a tension/sinus headache since yesterday. And a weird taste in my mouth. Probably just a brain tumor. Good thing I have that check-up Thursday. I have to remember to ask the doctor all those little nit-picky questions that fall by the wayside whenever I'm there for something more serious. I have to fast, so I guess they'll take a mess o' blood. Hopefully I won't bruise, since my dresses for the show are both short-sleeved.
I did a show in college that included a number that was an "Apache tango." The choreographer stole bits of it from Twyla Tharp's Nine Sinatra Songs (again with the Sinatra, Mel!), and one of the moves involved me jumping into his arms and him throwing me across his body. He then would pitch me around the other way, I'd link arms with him behind his back and he'd spin me down to the floor. The first time we worked it, well, we must have done it 50 times, trying to get the timing right. When we finished, I had bruises the size of fists on my inner arms. They were pretty spectacular. The next day, I had an appointment at the health center, to see the GYN. I went right after class, and it was a dance class and I was wearing a sleeveless leotard. You can imagine the look my doctor gave me. It took much protestation on my part to convince him I was not being beaten. "No, really! We were just dancing!"
Ach, to bed with me.
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a very fine cat indeed - Friday, Jan. 17, 2014
happy new year! - Thursday, Jan. 24, 2013
this is where i am - Saturday, Jun. 30, 2012
this is how it is - Friday, Feb. 24, 2012
a very late last year's wrap-up - Wednesday, Jan. 18, 2012
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