Sweet Baby James

Have I perhaps mentioned, once or twice, that I'm a James Taylor fan?

A few years ago a TV program, can't remember which one, played "Something in the Way She Moves", my all-time favorite JT song, as the credits started to roll.

Emily looked at me reproachfully as I listened gleefully to the first verse, hushing everyone around.

"THIS is your favorite song? This is BORING. It doesn't even have DRUMS." At the time, Emily was listening exclusively to TI.

"It doesn't need drums! Listen to the lyrics! He wrote it to Joni Mitchell when he was addicted to heroine! This is pure musical magic!" At the time, I was listening exclusively to Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young.

In fairness to Em, the lyrics aren't even that great. They're simple, as all of his are, but I like to think that's because he was 19 and strung out on both drugs and first love. Together, they have the power to bring down civilization, but he ended up finding beauty somewhere deep inside what had to have been a psychedelic clusterf*ck of emotions and withdrawals. S is for Sweet Baby James, because he wrote that song too, and I already wrote my J entry.

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To that deluxe apartment in the sky

For all the thought and Craigslist stalking that went into finding the perfect apartment, there was very little fanfare once we actually landed one. A quick email from the landlord, a PDF of the lease, and a ‘see ya July 1’ signoff.

With all due respect sir, you’re putting a damper on what is possibly the most freeing day of my life. Would a banner in the sky announcing my acceptable credit have killed you?

Of all the things I’m most excited about, I think returning to a city with a walking culture tops the list. I really miss strolling for a coffee, or to a grocery store. I miss walking to bars, I miss walking to absolutely nowhere. No one walks anywhere in the ‘burbs unless they are wearing $90 yoga pants and trailing behind a fluffy white dog in a princess collar (Daisy, my family’s live-in diva, would fit this mold if she didn’t sit down in the middle of the street after one block).

I wish I could make you all jealous with my apartment’s awesome location but just know that it’s in _______ (hip young neighborhood) near _________ (specific body of water) that allows me to run a perfect 5k from my door around the _________ (body of water) back to my door. The ability to exercise so easily will come in handy once I have my first taste of ________ (baked good) from __________ (famous local bakery that will soon be the reason for my 15-lb weight gain).

Hello, lover

“Do you know this is going to be the best week of my LIFE?!” I asked BF seven times last night as I then repeatedly ticked off all my planned events. Apartment lease, the JAMES TAYLOR/CAROLE KING concert tonight with my parents, a Twins/Yankees night game on Thursday, digging deep into a sweet freelancing gig on my downtime. I haven’t seen this much action or good news in... Ever.

You can’t see me but I’m simultaneously knocking on wood and fist pumping right now. It’s the superstitious adult version of rubbing your stomach and patting your head.

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Smile upon your face, welcome to the human race

Things I love today:

1. This website that tells you if it's time to drink iced coffee yet.

2. The new Jeremy Messersmith album which you can download at your own price here.

iTunes informs me that I've listened to each of the songs on this album 15-55 times in the 2 weeks since I purchased it. The obsession is in full force and I wish I had self-control because soon I'll hit the moment where I shelve it for a year because I'm so sick of it I could die.

3. Outdoor professional baseball at Target Field. The game on Friday night was EPIC. The hot dogs were, too.

4. It's finally sundress season. I feel approximately 95% cuter during sundress season.

5. In the 5 hours I hung out with my excessively demonstrative extended family today, I was told I was loved at least 15 times. Sometimes you just need to be hugged until you can barely breathe.

6. In approximately 40 hours I will be attending James Taylor and Carole King in concert with my parents. My excitement level is somewhere between Election Night '08 and the Christmas where I got the Barbie Dreamhouse with a working dumbwaiter. Prepare yourselves for the most enthusiastic post of all time on Tuesday evening.

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We were ring around the rosy children

In a fairly innocuous episode of Sex and the City, our fearless stiletto-ed leader leaves us with one of her trademark deep thoughts:

"I will never be the woman with the perfect hair, who can wear white and not spill on it."

Viewers everywhere nodded in solidarity, as we took note that even Carrie (who can and does whatever she wants) wasn't infallible.

Yesterday on my way to a date with the BF that was to include salmon burgers and watching Damages, I had to turn around 5 miles into my 20 mile trek because I realized I’d forgotten... Damages. And the salmon burgers.

When I got to his house I tripped up the (very steep!) stairs and he heard me mutter an expletive before he could see me. Then I almost cut my finger off while I was slicing tomatoes.

This morning as I was heading out of his house, I was mostly just grateful to be alive. And to still have a boyfriend. Then...

“Uh, G?” I heard as I turned to walk out the front door. His voice was a mix of amusement and slight concern.

“Yes??”

“Do you want me to take the tag off your sweater?”

I shuffled back in shame, and he gently held one corner of the fabric tag while tugging the plastic one off my new cardigan.

One of the perks of dating your best friend whom you have known since you had a spiral perm and baby teeth, is that they’ve probably seen you looking and doing worse than anything you can manage as an adult. I’m dating that person. It’s a blessing, because he knows I’m a disaster and likes me anyway. It's a curse because I can’t prove otherwise no matter how hard I try. There’s nearly 20 years of precedent leading into this relationship. Even if I successfully wore an all-white outfit while milking a herd of cattle in a windstorm, I’d still be the girl who faceplanted twice in one recess period.

And that's probably okay. As long as I'm living a life where a gasoline spray to the eye is just a typical Wednesday, I might as well live it alongside someone who finds my stories endearing. And par for the course.

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Music poll

Found this online...

Two minute music poll

Favorite childhood song: "Always be my baby", Mariah Carey
Made you want to try drugs: "Burn one down", Ben Harper (actually, this song made me want to become a full blown stoner)
Made you want to never try drugs: "Needle and the damage done", Neil Young
Still makes you believe in love: "Something in the way she moves", James Taylor
Reminds you of your parents: "She's gone", Hall and Oates
Best break up song: "Don't think twice it's alright", Bob Dylan
Best ever classic rock song: "Beast of burden", Rolling Stones, "Dirty work", Steely Dan
Current favorite song: "If I am a stranger", Ryan Adams

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Oh, Mexico... it sounds so sweet with the sun sinkin low

Today, the governor of New York was busted for being involved in a "high-class prostitution ring". In addition to wondering what would have happened if it had been a low-class prostitution ring, I found myself staring at the picture of he and his wife at the press conference announcing his immoral actions.

In every single account I heard of the press conference, the main details were that he a) fessed up, and b) had his wife of 21 years standing next to him. This led several friends and me to begin discussing the anatomy of a politician's wife. When saying their vows, do they say "for richer for poorer" while internally knowing it means "in scandal and in glory"?

While I can never know the inner workings of the Spitzer marriage, or any marriage, I can say with some authority that the press conference podium would be the last place on Earth I'd be as my husband announced his infidelity. Especially if that infidelity included a sex worker and a $5000 hit on our personal bank account.

Alternate places include:

1. Jenna's car, fleeing for the border
2. my trusted divorce lawyer
3. paying a visit to MY high-class male prostitute
3. Sak's, stocking up on all the things I won't be able to afford once I flee for the border, get a divorce, and the government discovers that my no-good, now-ex-husband is also a money launderer who owes our entire fortune to the IRS and several branches of the mafia

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