3 Lonely Months Later...

When you were a kid did you treat your stuffed animals like they had feelings? Not all the time, of course, but every once in a while did you catch a glimpse of some forgotten doll with its head smashed underneath a box of legos or your favorite oversized white tiger carelessly tangled in a set of dress-up beads with one sad little paw poking up above the rim of the toy box, and you swear you heard a faint "help me..." that made you focus on it just a few seconds longer? No? Oh, ahem. Well, how very mentally developed you were as a child then.

I did.

And I know you did too, don't be a twit.

Ha, twit. That's a funny word.

On those occasions when I saw my toys in a state of neglect or distress, particularly and probably exclusively the ones that had faces...I don't think I was so concerned with the emotional well being of my Lincoln Logs, I would TRY to ignore the impulse to soothe their feelings and put them in a more comfortable position, but I just couldn't. Maybe it was the first inclining of a maternal instinct, maybe it was mere delusion, maybe a childlike insistence to hang on to the last vestige of belief that my toys were not just stuffing and fiber, but something real. But really, I think it had more to do with not wanting to ignore something that I had given a piece of myself to.

So, in a round about way, all this is to say, I miss my blog. And I just got a glimpse of it, crumpled in the corner under the weight of work and facebook and wedding planning (oh yeah, did I mention I got engaged?) and this post is an effort to gently pick it up out of the toy bin, pet its head a few times, maybe even whisper an apology if I think no one is looking, and place it gently on the top of the stack, even though that means something else will now be slightly disfigured at the bottom.

Music to My Ears...and, er, Eyes too I guess.

I know it's been a while since last I posted, and that huge gap in time growing ever larger has been like a insurmountable hurdle in getting back into the posting groove. I've opened new posts only to ramble on and on trying to catch up on months of unwritten thoughts, only to delete the whole thing because I sound quite like stream-of-consciousness on crack. So there will be no catching up. I will not tell of all the things that have happened lo these long months. You will not get to hear about my trip to Kentucky or Europe, and just forget about a comprehensive Christmas list or rundown of how many servings of stuffing I was wont to imbibe. New Years came and past, but far be it for me to detail the drinky night. I could have written a thousand posts by now, but I haven't, so I'm getting over it. I'm sure I'm the only one affected by my own laze.

And yes, laze is a word. I looked it up.

I've got the Grammy's on now and I could not be more entertained. I'm not much of a music person myself, but big events like this enthral me and I love seeing the odd matchups they force on the presenters. Like Kesha with her arms crossed tightly across her chest and her weight shifted sassily on her left leg rolling her eyes with self important bitchiness while her much younger and completely unknown (to me) co-presenter fumbled a line. I can just imagine she would much have preferred herself hanging off the arm of...anyone else. Then Mos Def and some Latin Classical singer did the most awkward bit of banter imaginable and Stephen Colbert got one laugh. From his daughter. Who I'm sure was in on the act.

For the most part the performances have been captivating- my favorite so far was the beautiful ballad Pink sang called Glitter in the Air, which has much more soul than the title would imply. Lady Gaga opened with Elton John, which was brilliant and I think I'll be catching that again on YouTube. Beyonce sang "If I Were a Boy," which feels sad and haunting at the same time...but maybe that's me...and then mixed it with, of all things, You Oughta Know by Alanis Morissette. I kept waiting for Alanis to walk on stage to riotous applause, but it never happened. Enter, dismay. Disapointingly Mary J Blige, who I usually like, totally squawked all over Andrea Bocelli, and I think their duet of "Bridge Over Troubled Water" would have been much improved had Andrea just sang both parts himself. No trouble, right? I imagine anyone with Bocelli will somewhat pale in comparison. There were a few others too- Jamie Foxx pretending he knows what hes doing with "Blame it on the Alcohol," which just proves that money will buy you just about anything, to include a singing career, Dave Matthews Band singing the same song that they've been singing since 1994, but with different lyrics, and Taylor Swift's and Stevie Nicks' independently beautiful voices clashing over a medley of both artists songs. Bad flow.

Since I've been writing this there was another performance, which I've already forgotten completely and a tribute song to Les Paul where the camera man(s) focused more on the strikingly interesting looking female singer with her funny hair warbling a 1940's sounding tune and less on the magnificent guitar playing by some guy who is probably famous but whom I've not met. Considering Les Paul was a guitar legend of some importance, it seems quite unfortunate the camera couldn't be bothered to pan over a bit to the twisting and contorting musician sweating riffs mere feet to the left of the warbling singer. Putting in a real honest effort, he was. I think they've missed the point somewhere.

Ah, well, it seems Comcast is having trouble keeping the sound up and running during the GRAMMYS. Le sigh.