June 13, 2006

1:52 p.m.

Trouble in River City, and a New Bra

I got a big surprise last Sunday. Dar was supposed to meet me at Rose and Mike's house, after I'd driven back up from New Jersey, to have dinner. He called in the afternoon and said his car was smoking and he had to get it looked at before he took any more trips. We were both very disappointed, but said we'd reschedule soon. That wasn't the surprise, though.

I went to Rose's anyway, and her boss Josh came over, too, and we all had a lovely dinner out in the recently built sunroom, listening to the recently installed waterfall outside and scanning the pond for recently arrived frogs. Mike wasn't himself, though. He seemed very quiet and preoccupied much of the time, not hearing things that were said to him, and making a lot of noise whacking up potatoes with a big knife. I asked him, in a private moment before we all ate, if everything was okay. He said, "Of course! Why?" as though everything... was okay, which is what we do when it isn't. He seemed a tiny bit better for a while, then. But after Josh had left and Mike went upstairs to bed, Rose and I had a long talk in the lodge, and it turns out that things are troubled in their house. Very troubled, indeed.

Apparently things have been rocky for a few months, and I had no idea. It's the kind of situation that brings out the worst in both parties, and things are rather hanging on a string at this point. I think they both want to repair it, and if Mike will agree to counselling with her they stand a chance. (So far he's been reluctant.) But meanwhile the atmosphere is pretty testy. They're scheduled to leave for a strenuous 12 days in Peru this Friday. I think if they can make it there, events will prove illuminating. The whole tour is based on rebirth and renewal rituals, sacred sites, and powerful, mystical meditations. Rose is hoping for clarity. I'm hoping for grace, and wise choices.

I told Dar; he's the only one I've spoken with about it. It's a little too confidential to tell the band unless it becomes apparent that there will be a split. It's stressful enough for me, but Dar said he hardly slept last night for thinking about it. It feels unreal; how did we get shuttled into this parallel universe, where Rose and Mike are having trouble? That's not supposed to happen here! They're the backbone of my existence, my only blood family. They have to be all right. The stars stay on their courses because of them. Should they break up, the oceans will turn upside down and the trees will hang with fishes.

(I think I just quoted Tom Stoppard.)

*Sigh.*

In other, equally momentous news, I found a new bra that makes my boobs look positively fabulous, without padding or push-ups. Who knew that simply rearranging the position of my breast molecules could turn me from saggy to sensational? Suddenly I want to wear clingy tank tops all the time. Who cares if it's the bra's attitude and not mine? It's still me... it's just... like I'm holding them up with my hands all the time. You know. How you do that. Just to see what it would be like if there were no gravity. You do that, right? And it's so comfy, I can wear it all day with no regrets. Barely There, Style #4104, in case you're interested. This from a woman who has hated contemporary, pre-formed bra styles ever since they came aggressively into fashion a few years ago.

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We saw Fairport Convention last weekend. What a delightful, inspiring, fun evening. Simon was very gracious, and seemed to be hopeful that we'd get chosen for the festival next year, although of course he has to say it's a committee decision so no promises. He could be just being polite, I guess, but he did it very sincerely and it made us feel good. I think we have to book some other things around it soon. It seems like different venues might pool together to cover airfare, and I'm sure Fairport couldn't fly the three of us over, themselves. Anyway they were a three-person, acoustic version of the band, and it was a big sound. Those Brits have such charm onstage. All solid players, great arrangements, very personable guys. Next year will be the band's 40th anniversary, although Simon might be one of maybe two of the original members. The other two we saw have been with the band 10 and 20 years respectively.

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I'm a little stuck on the dream journal because I haven't found a connection to the Arthur Rackham Estate in the UK, from whom I'm trying to get permission to use one of his illustrations. Can't seem to find it online, though I've searched in different ways. I did make nine new travel journal covers this week, two of which used hand-batiked fabric Rose got in Ghana. They'll be the journals for her and another person going back this August.

And we have a full weekend of gigs coming up. We're a little rusty all the time now. But I did write a new song last week, so I'm getting my hands on the guitar.

It's hot today at last. I should call the egg man and go for a walk, although I have a lot to do and there is no such thing as a short conversation with him. Maybe I'll try for tomorrow if it doesn't rain. I'm starting to find scary dust bunnies (were-bunnies!) all over the apartment now, too, which tells me that I haven't vacuumed in weeks AND the long kitchen floor needs badly to be scrubbed. I'm rather shocked at what an uninterested housekeeper I've become.

I also have to call for a haircut appointment, and make a couple of other calls. Then there are the inside papers that need gluing into the book covers. And the post office run. Before all these things descend upon me and compromise my ability to do any one of them, let me get started.