Mitch is right in the thick of things with school, so I see him often at home, but mostly from the back, as he’s generally toiling away on the computer. This has driven me into the kitchen, where I stay busy baking bread, granola, cupcakes and vast quantities of cookies (snickerdoodles, gingersnaps, macaroons, earl grey tea cookies, chocolate chip, chocolate chocolate chip, triple chocolate chip and these amazing “chocolate wonder” cookies that are almost to rich to even eat), as well as soups, enormous pots of spaghetti sauce, curry and pilaf, most of which are now frozen–for the first time since we’ve been married I seem to have actually figured out the the freezer is for.
Also, I’ve been playing shows pretty regularly, the most memorable of which was the show at Tweek’s: I was late, having spent the afternoon in the ER after a weird allergic reaction caused me to puff up and turn bright pink (we still don’t know what caused the reaction), and when I finally arrived I was jittery from the epinephrine injection–though no longer puffy or pink. All things considered, the show was great fun, and Boris Budd was great–very charming and angry, if you can picture that.
Mitch just found out Thursday that the software company he interviewed with last week does, in fact, want to give him a summer internship. This comes as an enormous relief to both of us–though mostly to Mitch, because he’s the one getting to start the super-cool job.
The cats are still crazy, but entertaining.
I spent a few hours yesterday recording in the Murder Mountain studio, which was amazingly (aMAZingly!) fun. We just worked on one song, but Bug Jerome has an ear for the unusual, which makes me very, very excited to hear how the rest of the album turns out: yesterday’s session saw me drumming on my guitar, Bug stomping up and down the stairs and drumming on the floor with forks and brooms and drumsticks, coming up with all kinds of strange but perfect sounds. A whole week of this in April? Heck yeah.
(I posted what we did yesterday on Myspace, so you can listen if you’re intrigued: the song is called “Knock on Your Door.” It’s not finished by any means–there’s still much to be done–but at least you can hear what we have so far.)
Am I forgetting anything?
In the last few weeks there have been some lovely dinner parties, hosted by friends and ourselves–including one we called “Temple Bar Night,” because all of us secretly wanted to go to the Temple Bar but all secretly cannot afford to right now, so we pooled our funds and had a lovely evening of cheap wine, cheese, bread, olives and chocolate tart. I lit candles and put Feist on the iPod and it was pretty much just like being at the Temple Bar (but not quite the same, somehow), except that we had fresh pineapple and the Temple Bar does not.
There. Now I don’t feel so guilty about not posting in a long time.
the little bird 