Mad house concert last night. It was a great night, albeit raucous -- many people who have never been to a house concert don't know the protocol, so they have to get used to the idea that there's going to be someone in front of them singing about eighteen songs and they should shut up. There was one particularly drunken lady who obviously loved us, and was as effusive as she could possibly be without being exactly articulate. It was very sweet. The night went far too late though, and I got to my bed at 3am.
Some vague dream recollection about kissing a guy... gone now.
I got my grocery shopping in early (how did I get up at 9:00?!) before the snow started again and, having cancelled tomorrow's birthday party because of impending snow dumpage, I proceeded to go on a grammar book spree at amazon.com, plus the new Tom Robbins which I can't wait to read. Here are today's spelling and word usage peeves:
Definitely, NOT definately
Its as a possessive, NOT it's (which is a contraction of IT IS)
A Lot, NOT alot (but you knew that)
"Everyday" is an adjective, NOT an adverb (i.e., "my everyday shoes" is correct, but "shop here everyday" is not - put a space in between "every" and "day" for the latter)
Sesquipedalian, NOT sesquepedalian (har, just kidding)
I don't know where all this comes from, except that most of the few memories I have of gradeschool involve learning to spell and write. I always loved it. While growing up in the military, my mom would take us to the PX when she had to go shopping, and I'd wander over to the office supply section, and stare at the shelves of blank notepads and pens full of ink and greedily imagine all the things I could write with them. I still love stationery stores and handmade paper (which I made for a time -- it's fun) and I SO still hear my mother's voice saying, "not different than, different from." It's simply that words are everything, especially written ones.
Every year at my birthday I'm amazed that I made it this far. I have one really good friend who hates any mention to be made of his birthday. I've tried to pinpoint why, and maybe it's simply a mortality issue, but I think one should make as much of oneself on this day as possible, because it's important. Have Birthday Week, in fact. I'm in mine and so far, what have I done? Took a long bath while listening to Peter Schickele's "Schickele Mix" on NPR, watched 4 versions of "A Christmas Carol," made some rather exquisite broiled chicken with a seat of the pants marinade (and found brussels sprouts at Stop & Shop still on the stalk -- ooh, excites the farmer in me), fed the birds on the balcony, played 2 gigs, put up more Christmas lights in the living room, opened a great bottle of wine... and Tuesday my sister is taking me out to dinner. So far so good. And more to come, I'm sure.
If only the "more" included kissing some hot guy on the couch. I don't foresee that, but then, I'm no Nostradamus.
