Up Late

Wow. It's 3:06 AM and I show no signs of fading. It all started with Guy Reed's email and link to this article about my most dependable creative hero who, at 80 years of age, is about to publish what he says will be his last book of poetry which makes me weak. Go here to read about Jack Gilbert. It inspired me.... and maybe, you too.

I've been musing about things and things, drinking Jameson & ginger (ale) and resisting sleep because I just don't want this night to end. It's a painful, blistering, blissful night. The candles on the dining room table have burned out and I wrote lyrics to some music I've been working on and the whole song just took on a life of its own. I don't know if I'll be wrestling with it in the coming days or weeks, but it has asserted itself tonight.

Brent went to bed early, possibly coming down with another cold or flu in his weakened state from the last cold or flu he contracted. I can hear him coughing upstairs. I should probably take some vitamin C and go to bed too.

It's A New Year

Ah, the ceremonious holiday table summoning hungry hearts, brains and bodies. Each participant brings with them the compilation of days creating the year they've lived to this table along with a bottle of wine or two and some food to flesh out the menu. We come elated, deflated, disappointed, inspired, lost and most often, found. Each holiday gathering cooks up its own swirling cosmic soup, and this one was no exception. We celebrate all of it; the darkness and light that comprises each real life being lived. The beauty is, we are all in this crazy world together and every year I stand at the head of the holiday table, I am overwhelmed with profound gratefulness for my family and friends.

On our dinner plates was beef tenderloin with a red wine/shallot reduction and bleu cheese crumbles, a salad of greens and baked yam with a balsamic/mustard vinaigrette, gingered carrots, mashers, gravy, cranberry orange puree, and crusty bread. For dessert, there was pumpkin and apple pie and a superb gingerbread.


Christmas morning looked something like this....





The Holiday Portrait of the Year was Brent modeling his new bathrobe. Fetching!


A close runner up was Hannah busting elf moves.


Immediately following the seemingly endless days of myriad celebrations here, there and everywhere, we sent Hannah off to London, where she'll be attending Central St. Martin's College of Art and Design until mid-April. That was a feat of epic proportions which I never want to revisit. Try persuading a 20 year old fashion queen moving to London to pack light!


But, she made it safely and from what we hear so far, all is well. I'll post fotos if she sends some. Franz has been in London with Hannah for two weeks but will leave tomorrow for a job he landed with an NGO in New Dehli. He'll be gone for a full year. We'll miss him but are as excited for him as we are for Hannah waving goodbye as they head out into the world seeking adventure. And like Rita and I have always said, "Just remember who you are and who your people are!"

New Year's Eve was spent as we did last year but with a different crew. Buggy and Miss Vickie were our guests at The Nicollet Island Inn and we were joined by Mark Dalton, his friend Jen, nephew Mike, later GR Anderson and Princess Sweetheart, and the built-in host of cretins, mutants, beautiful urbanites and delicious neighborhood derelicts of Nye's Polonaise Room. This year we spent more time in the polka bar .......but ended up at the piano bar where Mark and Brent sang (hollered?) Billy Joel's "Piano Man" and GR sang a heartbreaking rendition of "Rhinestone Cowboy". Princess Sweetheart was stunning in her faux jungle coat, which she had fashioned with her own, lovely hands. Wish I had a picture. Instead, I give you this....

Since then, we are all in blissful recovery mode.
HAPPY NEW YEAR, EVERYONE!