Dear Ira Glass,

Just wanted to write and wish you luck on David Letterman tonight! Since I don't have Showtime, I haven't been able to watch the televised version of This American Life so I will have to be content with that small sighting, you sandwiched between Jessica Biel (Tufts alum, by the way) and Regina Spektor. (And come on, let's be honest, Dave is going to extend his chat with Jessica so you might consider having your very funniest material at the ready up top, just in case you're cut short.)
I also wanted to confess that your job is one of those dream jobs of mine, where in a different time and place I might give you a run for your money in the NPR radio talent contest. Rest assured, though, that I am content and ensconced in my own little life.
Your faithful listener,
A.

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If, like me, you've ever thought it would be a great gig to host a public radio show like This American Life, you can find out more here (hint, hint, Matt). If you live in the Boston area, you're in luck! They're holding an open house to help you record your 2-minute audition. To vote, go here and they will randomly choose an entry for you to rate.

Hearing the music

Now and then I have to remind myself to slow down and enjoy the moment, to Be Here Now rather than in a million other places mentally. I forget and essentially disconnect my senses, depriving myself of the joy of hearing*feeling*touching*seeing whatever is right in front of me.

So I commiserate with the 1,097 people who, on January 12th this year did the same thing. Thanks to Ali's blog for pointing out a fascinating article (and, in a way, research study) by the Washington Post. They set up violinist Joshua Bell (disguised) to play music (or "busk" as they say in England) in the L'Enfant Plaza metro station to see what happened. It's an illuminating read and more than a little painful to watch the video footage and identify with all those people rushing right past, missing the beauty right there in front of them. Ouch.

Reminded me of these lines from Gwendolyn Brooks:
Exhaust the little moment
Soon it dies
And be it gash or gold it will not come
Again in this identical disguise.

Please bear with me...

I'm messing around with the layout and title for the blog. Change is good, right?
(And can anyone tell me how to get the image in the header to be wider? Please?)
[Edited to add: Here's the link to the program I used to create the card in the header.]

Play that funky music, white boy

S has been aching for a mix cd of his own. I guess he's watched his two sisters with their iTunes/pods, heard the music seeping (or booming) from their rooms. Finally, he decided it was his turn. Enough Carrie Underwood (M) and Shania Twain (L)--he was ready to follow his own musical hankerings. I finally got some more blank cds this week and today he presented me with the list of songs he wants. Here's what my 8-year-old has chosen, all on his own:
-Upside Down (Jack Johnson)
-Bad Day (Daniel Powter)
-Axel F (Crazy Frog)
-You're Beautiful (James Blunt)
-The Sun (They Might Be Giants)
-Particle Man (They Might Be Giants)
-Photograph (Nickelback)
-Play That Funky Music White Boy (Wild Cherry)
-I'm a Believer (Smashmouth)
-How to Save a Life (The Fray)
-What a Wonderful World (Louis Armstrong)
-Wanted Dead or Alive (Daughtry)
-I'm Going Home (Daughtry)
-If I had a Million Dollars (Barenaked Ladies)
-It's Not Over (Daughtry)

Except for Wild Cherry and Daniel Powter, he even knew the artists and their spellings. I love these little windows into his world.

Folding down corners

Every time I look through a magazine or catalog, I fold down the corner of the pages where I like things, sometimes even circling the item to remember later. Maybe everyone does this...do you? It's silly how happy it makes me to tag something that might-maybe-somehow-perhaps-someday be mine, to identify that *this* appeals to me, *that* doesn't.

(Memory: When I was around 10, my friend Shelly and I used to go through the JCPenney catalog and pick something on each page as ours. There were many close-call tiffs when we each wanted the same thing. For some reason it was Against The Rules to choose the same thing, as if there were just one available and as if we were going to get anything at all. My kids used to do that with movie characters. While watching the movie, M would say "I'm Cinderella" and then L would say "No! I'M Cinderella...I'm older and I have blond hair" and back and forth. They ignored my suggestion that they could actually both be Cinderella since they weren't actually going to morph into her so it didn't matter anyway. That "calling" thing is powerful )

Anyway. This week I'm sorting through everything (in anticipation of our move on May 31!) and tossing the ridiculously many outdated magazines I currently own. I can't resist sneaking peeks at the folded down pages, though, just to see what I thought was cool and wantable in 1998. (Yes, I moved these magazines TWICE. This is the insanity that is me.) Suffice it to say I won't be needing those pages anymore.

The folded corner habit did work out well for me, though. One year for Christmas, everything G got me was so spot on, so perfectly matched to my unspoken wishlist that I was stunned. How did you know? I asked. I'm sure you've guessed by now. He took my pile of catalogs/magazines, opened to the folded corners, and ordered. I know, I know...he's a keeper, isn't he?