no power

Well.... here we are again. No power. Our house is somehow tangentially hooked to another source for power. Literally our tiny section of Rutland will loose power over and over again and no one else will. We waited forever during "The Ice Storm." It is obviously back on now... or I wouldn't be typing this. Still we were out for about 24 hours. In a way it was nice.... in a way. I really liked the silence that it brought with it. I like not being able to hear the refrigerator. I like having the kids here and involved with me. They kind of lost it a bit, if I am to be honest. During the storm, Henry and Nora were manically running around the house and I asked them to sit for a bit because they were going crazy. They literally couldn't sit still. Nora was sliding all over the couch and onto the floor repeatedly and Henry started freaking out about not being able to draw these cards he wanted to draw. At one point both kids were in tears. I just wanted them to settle. Sit. Relax a tiny bit. But they had needs. So, I lit two tapers on the kitchen table and set Henry up with some drawing stuff and took Nora to get a drink of water from the reserve water Jenny had thought to put into one of our coolers.

I got out my guitar. Nora got on the piano. She pounded random keys and I played for a while. She actually is starting to be able to carry a tune. The power outage lasted one full day. It was enough though. I can like all the candles I want, but with the risk of losing the stuff in our freezer and fridge as well as the not knowing how long it was going to be out for... I could do without the romance of candle light.

I have heard a couple of weather guys say that we are in for this kind of weather for the next seven or so years. I might just break down and buy a back up generator.

on a rainy day...

So very good....

Halloween

We got our pumpkins today. We went to Flo's Farm stand and picked out four pumpkins. I must have acquired some sort of skill at pumpkin carving at some point because I find the whole thing so much easier than I remember. I think that everything is like this though... when you are little everything seems to take years to get through. I remember being elbow deep in pumpkin guts, semi-grossed out and beat. Now it is just like fifteen minutes until jack-o-lantern.

We roast the seeds too. God I love those. They came out extra good this year for some reason.
pumpkin seeds
butter
salt

Don't clean the pumpkin seeds off... just take out the big chunks of innards. Leave the seeds slimy with the remnant of the thready stuff still on them. Then coat in a bit of butter and salt... spread them on a couple of tinfoil lined baking sheets and roast at 350 for 45 minutes. Take them out a few times to turn them over and mix the seeds. That's it. So good!!! The kids are psyched for Halloween... I am too.

Nora's Last Soccer Day

Nora had her last soccer day. It was a nice day. She did really great. She has some real strengths that are going to serve her so well when she gets a bit older. It might be a bit hard to deal with when she wields them against me for a while in her teens though. She is strong. That is the best word that I can find for her. She seems to possess this self-strength that is kind of amazing for such a little girl. And she's smart. Strong and Smart... and pretty darn good at soccer.

breathe in breathe out

So.... I have to get surgery. It isn't open heart surgery or anything that dramatic... its an ablation. My surgeon is going to thread a wire through big veins in my legs up to my heart, test which nerves are feeding back incorrectly, and sever the bad, or extra ones. I have had this done before. It didn't go so well. I was there double the expected length of time and they had to call the procedure unsuccessful. It did actually sever the extra nerve in the long run though... through scarring, after about six months. I appears now though, that I have another... yes, another, nerve.

The worst thing about this is how fast the turn over is. Bad heart thing on Sunday: Surgery in two Tuesdays. And that was from a week ago. So....... surgery in a week. I am flipping out. I am literally splitting my mind in half... well not literally. I am ok... no I am not ok. And then I am ok again. And... honestly, I am not ok.

Here is what's killing me. The risk. I want to not die because of a heart procedure. I would much rather die by driving off of a bridge while being chased be the CIA. You know, while I am in control. I am afraid of going to sleep and waking up with a pacemaker (one of the possibilities) or not waking up at all. I am afraid of not being in control of myself. That is the big deal. That is why I freak out. I am kind of freaking out right now in fact even just admitting that. I go in for a pre-surgery pep talk and testing on Friday.... Freaking out about that. I try to imagine the whole thing happening. I have been through this once before. I think of the stupid Johnny thing... freak out about it. I think of getting the IV... freaking out about that. The last time I nearly passed out when I got that IV. I think of looking up at the face of the nurse in the surgery room. Freaking out. I think of being wheeled everywhere on that bed thing. Freaking out. And then, if I can imagine waking up from this procedure and having them tell me it was successful and the freedom that that will offer me, I start to calm down. There are risks with all surgeries. I know that. I just want to be ok. That's it. OK and with my kids and done with this stupid whole ordeal.

Done and better.

ghosts

Tomorrow I go to the doctors and find out my fate. I have this thing with fate, its a love hate relationship. Sometimes I think its on my side, sometimes not so much. Sometimes I think I see little pieces of the plan and start to freak out. "Oh, Dave is going to die because of heart surgery, so better let him start this photo a day blog so he records the last moments of his life for posterity." Sounds dumb? This is the way my mind works.

I am a bit afraid of going tomorrow and having the Dr. say that I am up for surgery, or as Jenny says... "a procedure." I am weighing the balance between getting the thing done and having to go through it. I have pretty much written it in stone that the doc is going to say that I am having it. One side of me says "One day worth of suffering and I am done (if it is successful this time) with WPW. For good. For ever." and the other side is saying "needles, being completely out of control of your own life, having little burning wires laced through me up into my heart, yeah... I can do without it." Bounce, bounce, bounce, back and forth, back and forth... in my sleep, while I work. Bad. These ghosts of bad experiences, of past worrying, way back to being tiny in the doctor's office, have been haunting me nonstop since Sunday. My family doctor when I was little, Doctor Miller, used to call me a worry wort. I used to cry when he wanted to put the tongue depressor in my mouth. When I got a shot... watch out, the world was ending. I just want to be left alone I guess.... let me walk off into the woods and die by some rock or something... just don't poke and prod me.

And yet, to be free of WPW and not have to worry about my heart flying out of control in any given situation might be worth it.... just by a little bit. Just keep me safe.

db

two kids to go

Henry and Nora are really getting used to life on the go. Today they were very... maybe too very... comfortable at play practice. Nora has found a friend, and potential babysitter (Yes!!) to help her with her homework and Henry is now comfortable enough there to roam around and discover what the stage area is like. (Never beyond eyesight though.)

It is a serious decision to take on something like directing the play when I have two small kids. Actually, the money becomes somewhat negligible when the time required is so much. For me it has become a decision of experience. Is this a good thing to submit my kids to. That is what pushed me over the edge this year. I love the kids that are part of the play. I love the atmosphere (most of the time). I especially love the little communal group that can sometimes grow out of doing this. I have seen hints of it here and there this year, but not a serious bonding like my first year yet.

Johanna has them dancing before I get there: contra dancing. I love walking into that. I love that all of these kids, that can sometimes be loners, are all involved and unafraid to touch each other. I know that sounds kinda sketchy, but I do mean it. It is a big thing for me. In the beginning, I wanted Henry involved with dance. I still do really, but he is not really going that way. I want him unafraid to be close, to know that he is OK and that people don't shun him for any reason and for him to spread that kind of acceptance to other people. This is what I find at play practice, a bunch of teenagers that transcend the awful barriers that sometimes they put up. That actually reach out in spite of class brackets and those cliche' and impossibly stratifying cliques at high school. I think that that was my most powerful discovery at my first experience with theater: these kids were selected by me, they didn't choose this group, and they became a group of close friends. Watching that process was more than beautiful.

This cast is big. The play is somewhat isolating in its portrayal of characters (If it isn't your scene, you aren't on stage). The big crunch hasn't really hit yet either, so there is time for stress and bonding to come. I want Henry and Nora to see this blend of people. Its the only thing that I think "Glee" got right. That ragtag "breakfast club" assortment of kids becoming a little closer does really exist. It is my privilege to see it and be a part of it. That is what I want my kids to see and why I directed the play this year. And I guess that makes it ok that the kids didn't step foot in our house until 7:45 that night and that we had to swing my Mcdonalds for supper? Well... I hope it does any way.

248

Your heart is as big as one fist. I remember learning that in A&P in college. Its one of those interesting facts that seem to mysteriously tie one part of your body to the rest. Like that whole arm length thing: your complete armspan is as long as you are tall. There are many little mysteries riddled throughout our bodies.

248. That was how fast my heart was beating this Sunday morning. 248 beats a minute. I have Wolff Parkinson White Syndrome. It hit when I was in my teens and I was running around the gym at school. These fast heratbeat episodes have happened so many times now that I have given up counting. I will be sitting playing cards, playing drums, digging in the garden, shoveling the driveway, about to get up and play guitar, or even while I am sleeping, and my heart will whir up to hyper speed. "It doesn't hurt." I tell who ever is around me, and they look on in amazement. I always have to try to get to the hospital. Nine times out of ten it ends way before I get there. Actually, it has only lasted until I got to the hospital three times. The first it stopped right as they were about to give me some sort of medicine, I don't remember which. The second time I was with my dad and I made it to the hospital in Gardner They hit me with one of the worst experiences I have had... Adenosine. They shot it into the IV and I felt like I was going to explode... massive pressure in my limbs built over ten seconds till I felt like I was going to literally pop. Then it dissapated as quickly as it built.

This Sunday I was ready to start playing guitar in church when I felt that whir in my chest again. It had been a while. It had only happened once since I had my operation six years or so ago. I kinda thought I might have been cured. I think that may be the worst thing about having this last attack. I am meeting with the cardiologist that performed my first surgery this Thursday afternoon. Oddly, that is the same day that Jenny is going in for a small surgery. This episode was one of the longest I have ever had. It lasted a full two hours. I immediately went outside... something I always have the impulse to do. When I got out there, my friend, who happens to be a doctor, was just coming into the church. He pretty much told me he was taking me to the hospital. I got to UMASS and went straight into the ER. One of the things that I hate the most about making it to the hospital is the gawking. My room, at times, was completely packed with doctors. They all want to see my heart monitor. I even heard a couple gasp... 248 is a pretty fast heartbeat. Its not my whole heart that is going that fast, just the top part... I was told that if it ever caught the bottom of my heart up in the rhythm I might be a gonner....They tried three times with Adenosine... three horrible times. Each time, nothing happened. My heart just kept right on going. Finally, it came down on its own  just after they had started a new type of medicine that was supposed to take it down gradually.

I have this awful feeling that Dr. Rosenthall, my heart surgeon, is going to offer to practice his trade on me again. My last operation took double the time that they thought it would, about six hours. My nerve is nicely located in the back of my heart, making it very difficult to snip... or burn as it is.  They didn't get it. They were frustrated when they told me. Not super happy about these prospects. I am... nervous... (bad pun I know).

Having WPW is not the best either. I have no idea when it will hit. Driving with the kids? Teaching? On vacation? Now?  As I am writing this a commercial from St. Judes Children's Hospital is on TV. I know that what I have doesn't hold a candle to some of these other diseases. I am not terminal by any means. It is just not pleasant, and I wish it was gone....... without having to face another surgery.

db

radio-active

Today is the inception of a specific time in our house. A ritual of family obligation and appreciation. A time devoted, intensely, to the fulfillment of dreams. Today, I have begun the kids Halloween costumes. And already I have been thrown off of my proverbial horse.

This year's big hill to climb: Henry's jellyfish costume. Nora wants to be a fairy, no problem, I already had the wings (don't ask). But Henry always wants to be some sort of off the wall thing. Something that no person in god's good earth would have thought about shoving into a prepackaged thing sold at walmart. Last year was a Nordic warrior. I went and bought tons of fur lined things and glued them strategically onto a sweatshirt... fur in every crevice of my basement. To this day there is still fur floating around down there. Throw an axe into his hand and away we go. The year before, he wanted to be the guy from that black and white video game that came out on XBOX that year... LIMBO. No problem black outfit... bunch of cotton shreds and a seriously big spider. This one though... this one is taking some effort. A jelly fish. Not just any jelly fish... a moon jelly.

I went down to the laboratory, I mean basement, today and gathered material.
1. Clear Bubble Umbrella
2. 25 blue glow sticks (more about these later)
3. Those bendy balloons that magicians use
4. Bubble wrap (big bubbles only please)
5. Strips of white cloth
6. Various utensils for cutting
7. The ubiquitous hot glue gun

Missing materials:
1. some sort of harness to attach the thing to Henry so he can devote both hands to shoveling in the candy load.
2. Medical attention....... (Again, we'll talk about this later)

I was ready. I even invited Henry down into the depths to watch the beginnings of the transformation.Thank god he got bored at some point and went back upstairs... I opened the umbrella, perfect, just the way Amazon described it. Very bubbly, very moon jellyfish. Oh, I should include a picture of a moon jelly for reference. So you get the idea. Today I started experimenting with the four circles (Henry has informed me that they are stomachs) in the center of the thing. My idea was good. I will take the magician balloons, find four blue ones and shove a glow stick inside of them, bend the things into circles and tie them off. Then, I will suspend them from the inside of the umbrella with tape or glue stick or what have you. The problem was that no matter how hard I tried, I could not get the glow stick inside the balloon. (Lets all think eighth grade health class here). It kept ripping and well.. just not very successful.

I tried for nearly an hour, using things to wedge the thing open. Nothing. So, a great idea: split the glow stick, pour the glowy, radioactive looking fluid into the balloon, inflate the balloon, tie it off and tada!! Glowing circles! Well, I learned that the glowing, radio active looking fluid inside a glow stick is actually two fluids, one being held in a tiny, very breakable, glass vial within the light stick. That's why the stick has to be bent to become actively glowy. So, I sheered off the top of the glow stick with a knife, success; expanded the end of the balloon around the end of a small funnel without tearing it, success; poured the glowey, dangerous looking fluid into the balloon thus finding the little shards of glass vial, success; (this is where the warning sirens should have started whistling in my head... but no), remove the shards with needle nose pliers and dispose of them in a waiting trash bin, success; take the balloon and inflate it with a pump used for inflating pool floaties, thus avoiding touching the nasty smelling, glowing, radioactive looking fluid to my lips, success; bend the balloon into a semi-circular shape and tie off the end to the left over, uninflated portion at the end of the balloon; YES! Success; Shake said balloon out of pure joy and to coat the nicely glowing balloon completely, thus nearly perfectly replicating a moon jelly stomach and allowing your son to experience true jellyfish happiness during Halloween, well that wasn't so successful. The balloon completely popped and sent the nasty smelling, radioactive looking, glowey, combined chemical substance shooting outward in a spray that found its way into every open orifice in my face, as well as over everything in my workshop. Click the picture below to get a good look at how completely this thing exploded over everything in my shop and just imagine my excited, open-mouthed face roughly 1 foot from the chemical bomb) Fortunately, the stuff is non toxic. But it stings like heck when it gets in your eyes, let me tell you. Also, ten minutes of holding your eye under a running faucet didn't feel very nice either. Also, Also, glow stick fluid tastes like nuclear fallout, just in case you were wondering.

burnt

Tonight I made Chicken Parm, from scratch.... bread the chicken myself,  I don't even need a recipe. It's all upstairs, in my head. I understand chicken Parmesan. I can make one hell of a seafood chowder from memory. I cook nearly everything from scratch because as a rule, we don't by prepared anything here. Its good. Its the way I like it. I have learned how to cook and can really hold my own.... except for a couple of areas. Chief among these areas is garlic bread..........garlic bread.   Bread with garlic on it. Not even garlic really, I use garlic salt. Just cut a store bought loaf of Italian bread open and butter it, sprinkle on some garlic salt and throw it under the broiler.

I cannot tell you how many times I have burned the freaking garlic bread. For a while it was every time.  I mean, broiling happens fast for sure, but man... smoke everywhere, fire alarm going off, acrid smell settling into the furniture. Stupid garlic bread.

Also, sometimes I forget how to boil certain items, like rice... and potatoes.

db

alone

No one is here.  Jenny and both kids are gone to cub scouts. It is such an indulgent thing to be alone. The ultimate in selfishness... no one here to take care of or consider. Just me and what I want to do. I shut down everything, television, stereo, lights, and start to let my mind consider itself.

I ride in silence in the car. No music. No talk radio. Nothing. All day long I have voices wanting me for something, getting my attention for some thing or another. Needing my help to work on or fix or just to listen. This is one of the reasons I think teachers need that big nasty vacation time. The amount of things that I deal with in one day could equal what another person deals with in a month. I need the silence. Even music on the radio seems glaring, rude... pulling me forcefully into it: pop stars selling everything for an audience.

Alone.  The clock ticks in the living room. It's a new clock. The refrigerator hums to life and shuts down. Chaucer stretches and rights himself at my feet. This house is fairly quiet. No old creaking here. We live on a very quiet street, the kind that, when someone does eventually pass by, we look to see who it is, and nine times out of ten, we know them. Our house is sparse... still looks like it is waiting to be decorated. I guess it is still waiting to be decorated. Lack of money, and skill keep it that way. It is getting dark . 6:05. I could bathe in this silence... let it wash around me.

I have often thought that I would have liked to have been some sort of skilled artisan. Someone who goes into his work place, singly, and works out his paycheck with his hands... making violins, or canoes, or something. Teaching is the opposite of this. It is crazed and manic surrounded by kids that vie for your attention. It is nice in its way, it really is, but quiet self-reflection, in my life, is about as foreign as anything could be. Sometimes I feel like some deep-sea whale... diving deep in all the pressure and only surfacing once every couple of months for a breath.

The play

OK... it is hard to spend this much time out. I cannot deny it. I think I forgot just how much effort that this play was actually going to be. Still though, I love it. I really love working with these talented, hard-working kids. It is such a blast to be a part of something where a bunch of minds get together and all work for the same goal. You know, that rarely happens in school. Teaching is such an individual sport. Very rarely am I working with someone else to achieve anything at all. It all comes from me. Maybe that is one of the reasons that I enjoy the play so much.

I work with Dave Plante, the technical director, Johanna Ottino is co-directing with me this year, I work with Mary Kay Fox who is producing, and tons and tons of kids who all lend their effort and minds to this task of making this a complete production. It is rewarding, if it doesn't kill you first.

too big

Nora is growing so fast. She is so smart. Her memory is truly amazing. She is starting to have friends over now, actually, a couple of days ago she got off of the bus with her friend "E" at our house. It sounds great and all, except we had no idea she was going to have a friend over. Just showed up here... They ran happily off of the bus exclaiming that they were going to have a sleepover. "Um...OK?  Jenny immediately called the girls mom and they were here actually before she was off of the phone. They were already on their way. It was pretty funny. They are planners... I wouldn't go so far as saying they are schemers just yet, but I bet the day will come. Nora is growing in all the right ways too. She is becoming thoughtful and smart. I love who she is.

green

If you were to open my ebooks menu on my ipad, you would see three lonely books. One of those is a guide to growing moss. I swear to you, a 250 page guide to growing moss. I am that boring. Even if you are reading this and are mocking me from a distance, you have to admit, sometimes moss can be kind of .... cute? Alright, maybe not cute. But nice though. Its like a little carpet out in the woods.

The green is going away. It does go out in a flash of color... and  I do love fall, but that green, the green of sunlight filtered through leaves, the green of moss creeping up a fallen tree in the middle of the woods, I love that green. I tend to have a hard time in the winter. I am an outdoor kind of guy, and the winter doesn't really bode well for me. Plus, I hate getting sick. As a teacher of disease prone, sneezing,  non-handwashing eighth graders, I do get sick in the winter. My plan this winter is to force myself to get out more. I am going to try skiing again. Take Chauc out for walks as often as possible. Still, its the huddling up, that mental packing it in that happens in preparation for the winter that kind of panics me. We could almost afford a fireplace this year. We are shooting for next winter. That might just be enough to turn around my feelings about the winter... snuggling up with a mulled cider. Yeah. It would be a whole different place.

breakfast

And this is why I love Country Mischief: Fire, home made corn beef hash, Fire, Hot Chocolate with whipped cream, Fire, homemade herbed bread toast, Fire, Fire, Fire.

hiking in the rain

Today was Henry's cubscbout campout night. We camp in Rutland State Park at a campground that is off limits to everyone else. I still do not know how that worked out, but it is awesome. There are plenty of campsites and a nice wooden roofed pavilion... its pretty great. We camped here once before, last year, and I woke at about 2:30 in the morning to hear a pack of coyotes running past our tents howling like there was no tomorrow. Its a really cool place. 

This year I was asked to take the cubscouts on a hike to the prison camps. I did it, we did it, but not without casualties. Most of the cubscouts that were present for the hike were tiger scouts. Tiny little guys, and the hike was a little over 2 and half miles there and the same back... a little over a five mile hike. This is plausible, but the little guys tire out pretty quick. I warned everyone before we set out about the length, but they still opted to go. We got to the prisoncamps in about an hour, and then it started raining. It wasn't a downpour, just a couple of light showers, but I could feel everyones' eyes slowling boiling me alive. I think that they thought I was in charge or some such thing. I don't know... I do know that they hated me. I couldn't think of a thing to say back. This is what I was asked to do... I warned them of the length... We all knew that it was probably going to rain. 

It was cold too. I was dying by the time we got back to camp. I hadn't taken a jacket... just a t-shirt. Henry loved it of course. He loves the rain. I have to beg him to stay in when it starts raining. Many times I just let him out in it. He played "War against the Germans" with his friend Nicholas the whole way there and back. They fell down sniper style and cleared the way for everyone... cute.... and slightly scary. 

db

Broken

Sometimes it is hard being a father. Not because of the responsibilities, although there are certainly those, but because of the expectations. I was wrestling with Chaucer on the floor tonight and I knelt down on one of Henry's Bakugons. It snapped under my knee, cut right through my pants and into my kneecap. Henry saw it happen, and lets say, it wasn't a good scene... for hours afterward. I felt like such a heel. I know its only a little toy, but it was very meaningful to him and I couldn't fix it. I told him I would buy him another, but Henry gets really attached to things. I do too. I remember crying for days because my parents switched out my bureau for another one. I understand the attachment thing.

I went out the next day to buy some superglue and fixed it in about thirty seconds. I told him and he casually said "OK." Like it was no big deal... like I hadn't tried to comfort him about it for two hours the night before. Like I hadn't swam in guilt all night and rushed out the next day to make everything better. "OK."  It is the expectations that get me. He values me as the person that can make things right. If I do so, it is his expectations that are met and everything is simply the way it should be. It isn't an amazing act of self deprivation... it is the expectation. And it is the way that I want it to be as well. I want to be that person... but I can feel the foreshadowing. When I can't run out and glue it back together. When I do something that really disappoints in a very real and harming way. I know that I am capable of that.  I am dreading those days.

Until then, perhaps it is in these little things that he learns I am human...fallible... able to mess things up. Maybe it is what he needs to be learning so when I do step into it in a big way, he is able to see through the circumstance and into my humanity.

db

minority

I live my life as such the majority that it comes as a complete shock sometimes when I am not. I look basically like everyone else around me... you know, minus the ridiculously handsome beard... No one really pays me a second glance. And I am used to that. I remember a long time ago when my family was on vacation somewhere.... I actually don't remember where, but somewhere when I was in my teens and I had big long hair. ( see the pic to the right just to help the mental image. I am the one on the far right) and we stopped somewhere for lunch. People were looking at me like had just got naked and was waving a bloody flag around. Literally parents were shooing their kids away from me as I walked down the sidewalk. It felt a bit powerful.. and I remember laughing. But it also felt wrong. I was a pretty decent guy. I didn't kill people for a living, and these guys had no right assuming anything like that about me.

I was a minority again today. I went to my friend Asima's daughter's wedding. They are Indian and Muslim and I am neither of those things. We have been friends a long time and feel no awkwardness at all regarding our differences. In fact, I love them. I love going over their house for food... trust me, the food is very very good. And I love going over their for birthdays and the like. There are rules there that I don't have, big rules, and I really do find it interesting to see them played out. So this was my first Indian wedding. I think we were the only non-Indian, non-Muslims there. We were the only ones that I saw anyway. I didn't know what I was going to think of it. It is so rare that I am thrown into a place that has such a different set of rules and culture. It was beautiful. One thing that I love about Indian culture is the color. Beautiful silks and gold flashing everywhere. I also love the singing of the Quran. I have been to a couple different things where the holy book is sung. Judaism for sure, and Islam... and in some places, Christianity. I wonder where Christianity veered from the singing of the Bible. In many Orthodox churches it is still sung. Most protestant churches it isn't. It is a beautiful thing to hear those words sung out.

In most other ways the service was very similar to any other religious event that I have been to. The Imam (I believe that's the right name) gave a message that could have been spoken in any church that I have been a part of. Love, for everyone, is central to God's desire. Yes, completely agree. People gave speeches in regard of the married couple. There was food and people mingled. It wasn't completely common day, I had to ask if it was OK to take pictures, and it was. But I wasn't sure. They prayed. I have seen Muslim prayer a few times before, and it beautiful to watch. I especially love the hand position that some people take, open hands facing their face. Some motion, what looks to me like a washing hand motion over their face after prayer. The symbolism in this, from my observation at least, was beautiful.

It was a nice night. I am happy to have been out of my comfort zone and safely in the hands of another culture.

db

boheminora

Fleece Beret................................................................................ √
Matching sweater dress ...............................................................√
Black tights..................................................................................√
Black sparkly sequin shoes..........................................................√
Tri-color beads slung asymetrically over one shoulder.................√
Mandolin in backpack case strung loosely across back................√
Extra guitar leaning against wall...................................................√
Psuedo-hipster half smile..............................................................√
Devlish glint in eye.......................................................................√