Grutz says, "Don't pick your nose, or you'll get rhabdo." or "Ma! Call the boys! We're getting the band back together!"

..it's just an old wife's tale. (Or is it?)
Remember back in the day, when you did something stupid silly, you might get warned with a reference to getting carted off by gypsies?  Ah, those were the days.  Now it's rhabdomyolysis*.  Now some of you, okay, all of you might be asking yourself, "Rhabdomyolysis?".  Anyone following the Hawkeyes knows.  Don't cross your eyes, you might get rhabdo.  Break a mirror, 7 years rhabdomyolysis.  Or my new fav, step on a crack, give your mom rhabdo.

*Rhabdomyolysis is a terrible condition to endure, and in rare cases, can lead to death.  And I personally would NOT like to pee brown, end of story.  I am not making light of it.  I AM making light of the copious amount of coverage it and the Hawkeyes received when the story broke.

Out with the old, in with the new.  And a big thanks.
As Carleen posted earlier, we had a little surprise (late) birthday party Saturday evening.  Alas, after the birthday manifesto, I scrambled to make my lady super happy for her birthday (golly, the dinner, cake, a new bag and ME wasn't enough?!?).  The crew that loves Carleen the most came through in perfect fashion.  I thank all the wonderful people that braved that dire trek down to Pilsen on Saturday.  You are the ones that made that night so special for Carleen.  I only wish I had a photo of you all "hiding" at the back of the Honky Tonk BBQ.  My memory of  the sight was Matt, surrounded by a bunch of people hiding their faces in coats, just staring at me.  All of you that made make up the core of Carleen's most important people in the city and she was shaking with emotions.  And thanks for getting such great bbq carryout!  As the husband of a vegetarian, nary do I get to sample such divine meats.  Bacon candy?!?!  Game over.  And a big thanks to MarySue for making the infamous pistachio cake.  (You may remember MarySue and Matt from a previous post, long before our adventure out west.)  My hat goes off to you, my dear.

Party hard, or don't...party.....at....all?  Enjoying the Carleen (Late) Surprise Birthday Party Supreme '11!

MarySue with the boss cake.  I do not hate cake. 

Trekkers to the land of Lincoln from the land of Tall Corn(?).
Mother Theresa and Aunt Peggy made it in for the weekend and they, too, were instrumental in pulling off the party, thanks.  It was super fun venturing around Pilsen and Chinatown this past weekend.  And also transporting a ridiculous number of plants and other possessions hanging out in Mom's basement back in Iowa.  Selfishly, I asked for one of my guitars.  Sure, I have my tele, casino, lap-steel and dano (that's a 1963 Danelectric to non-musicians), but I was lacking a certain something................

Yes, THE gold Firebird.  It's got that sumthin-sumthin'.  A very unique kind of swagger.

Woo-hoo!  I got my baby (second only to Carleen, of course!).  Sure, I have better sounding guitars, smoother and easier to play guitars, and more expensive guitars, but there's just something about the firebird.  And when I plugged it in..........well, the selector needs some work, and so does the bridge volume, and the necks a wee bit off, BUT, when we got groovin', she was all that and a bag of chips an extra side of hummus.  Good times.

Brain times.  

March 23 birthdays.

Carl Gottfried Wilhelm Taubert (born Berlin, 23 March 1811 – died Berlin, 7 January 1891) was a German pianist, conductor, and composer.

Taubert studied under Ludwig Berger (piano) and Bernhard Klein (composition). In 1831 he became assistant conductor and accompanist for Berlin court concerts. Between 1845 and 1848 he was music director of the Berlin Royal Opera, and was also court conductor in Berlin from 1845 to 1869. From 1865, he taught music at the Royal Academy of the Arts: Theodor Kullak was one of his pupils.

 Roger Martin du Gard (23 March 1881 – 22 August 1958) was a French author and winner of the 1937 Nobel Prize for Literature.  Trained as a paleographer and archivist, Martin du Gard brought to his works a spirit of objectivity and a scrupulous regard for details. For his concern with documentation and with the relationship of social reality to individual development, he has been linked with the realist and naturalist traditions of the 19th century. His major work was Les Thibault, a roman fleuve about the Thibault family, originally published as a series of eight novels.

Birthday Manifesto (with addendum)

Birthday Manifesto

Despite the tumult of the last few days/weeks/months there are some things that are moving towards clear.  These things I know to be true.

1. I am in love with dancing.  In dance, there is a truth and beauty that doesn’t happen at any other time in my life.  It’s something akin to sitting in the middle of a mountain range and looking up at the stars and feeling a warm breeze, that is how I feel when I’m dancing.  Connected to my physicality, my beauty, my mind, and emotions.  Completely full.  Completely complete. 

1. At this juncture, I don’t want to move to Alaska or New Orleans or North Carolina.  Last May, June, July, August I was fully invested in finding a teaching job anywhere.  I had the zeal of a new graduate, aching to test out my skills and I researched ad nauseam teaching opportunities in parts of the country and world that fit with my desire to be immersed in mind expanding nature and to be working in a needy community.  Today I get prospective emails from these places and I don’t get the adrenaline burn in my veins that I did a year ago.  Instead I think about the possible dance and teaching chances that I might have here, and look forward to engaging in that way. 

1. Seven months ago, I willingly, of my own volition, left Chicago with the intention to be open to the possibility of not living here.  I chose to explore, to consider, to try out other options in my head and in my body.  A lot of these alternate choices still leave me with a quick step, but not enough to warrant another departure.  

1. Chicago is not a place that I want to live when I am 70.  But Chicago is a place that I want to be now, as a new 31 year old, a bicyclist, a dancer, a teacher, a friend (and a wife :). 

1. It’s no secret that Chicago wears on the spirit but the wearing is countered with love that emanates from people here in my life, which more than compensates and is like a tethered buoy that bobs with abandon but never floats away. 

It’s true, for me each year birthdays get a little less exciting than from when I was 6 going on 7.  Maybe it’s because I’m not with my family, and I’m secretly missing the pistachio cake, a delightful boxed yellow cake made with pistachio pudding and pistachio whipped cream frosting that Mom always made for me, or because the mystery of birthdays dissipates with time.  This morning, with my hot tea and before the sun came up, I opened the patchwork package that Mom and Dad sent and in it were an assortment of little things, clearly chosen by Mom with thoughtfulness but for no particular reason.  She sent me a thick bangle polka dot bracelet, a pink clothespin with a gel decoration on one side, a fancy glass topped egg, and a sunglasses clip for our car.  It’s like a still life painting, the combination is so random, but I know the care from which it comes is huge.  I’ll take a picture when I get home.  Of course the tear inducing item was a letter, with 31 dollars, inscribed with green ink, that carries on the tradition that Grammy started.  Every year Grammy sends us dollars in the amount of our birthday, this stopped a few years ago when she started to get a little forgetful, but that part doesn’t matter.  Grammy died in May, and this year, I somewhat inadvertently sent my sister Julia $21 and a birthday card written in green ink.  I don’t know if she felt Grammy’s birthday blessing with my card, but I sure did this morning when I got the card from Mom and Dad. 


Addendum:  Sometimes I don't mention how lucky and thrilled I am to have a partner in life and love.  Nick is holding my hand and heart through adventure, upset, and joy.  He is intrinsically rooted to my whole belief system.