"I have been but little in," said Ninian hastily...

A friend invited me recently to go to a piano concert at the Strathmore music hall. It was quite a new experience for me: I'd not been to the Strathmore before, and whenever the last time was that I went to a classical concert, it was a long time ago. I did not disgrace myself by dozing off (my usual unfortunate reaction to sitting still in a warm room--why I don't often go to live theatre). I quite enjoyed the programme, which was Prokofiev, Stravinsky, a Russian jazz composer named Kapustin, and several pieces by Chopin. I didn't reach the depth of analysis of the Post's reporter, but I thought the performance, by a young woman named Yujia Wang, was fantastic, very accomplished and, yes, very distant from the audience, but filled with emotion. The Strathmore's hall is quite remarkable, very beautiful in a spare, almost Art Deco style of pale wood. But it seems as if it must feel like rather a bear pit, especially if you are a soloist on its flat expanse of stage.

Last night we went to the other end of the concert hall spectrum, Jammin Java, the bar/coffee house and stage in Vienna. Richard Shindell was performing, and I love seeing him, the smaller the space the better. He was in fine form (apart from an early problem with the micing of a guitar) and played a number of pieces from his next album as well as several old favourites. He did two sets, and while I can't recall everything, they included Reunion Hill (which chokes me up), Deer on the Parkway (a new piece, which he remarked he had been planning to call Deer on the Sawmill until he realized that for those not from New York it might conjure up an horrible image), Are You Happy Now (perfect for just-after-Halloween), Somewhere Near Patterson, Clara (which I adore, I'm not sure why), Mariana's Table, Kenworth of My Dreams, Next Best Western, another new song mocking Objectivism, Wysteria (which makes me misty-eyed for family reasons), and There Goes Mavis (which always makes me cry--thankfully it had the same effect on my friend). Really, a great concert, and I can't wait or his next album!

And next weekend I have charming songster Al Stewart to look forward to, a concert I'm going to the Birchmere for with my dear buddy redactrice. A musical time I'm having!

"There are always people in graveyards, no matter the time of night." Lord Peter Wimsey, sounding a bit like Neil Gaiman

But why does DC United not have any defenders who can mark? With Silva, we seem to have found an attacking player who can attack, but ...

Ate lunch, got groceries. Came home, put away everyone's wheelie bins, carried groceries upstairs to put away. Now soaked in sweat. September is clearly on repeat until the NWS opens again.

There are many markers of summer, but for me, one of the strongest in this area is the arrival of the catbirds. They've been here for several weeks now, filling out the ranks of the usual suspects, starlings and grackles, robins and sparrows, blue jays and cardinals, crows and morning doves.

I'm sitting outside enjoying the evening air, and there are a pair of red bellied woodpeckers sporting around in the tree on the corner. They seem to be having fun, and it's a pleasure to watch them.

ETA: Another marker of summer is the arrival of fireflies. I noticed ours a couple of nights ago, when I was out walking in the rain. There were several, high up in the trees. I was sitting out on the porch just now, watching the day fade (it's only just gone fully dark), and a few flew past. Lovely. :-)

Well, I finally stirred my stumps to get out and about. I went and returned a catbox I had bought (one look at it with one of my cats in the same room show edit was too small for my hulking brutes :-).

Then I went Ikea and bought far more than I had meant to, but nothing ridiculous (despite severe temptation). I don't know what principals their design and marketing people work on, but they work on me. Some day I would like to furnish a whole apartment from Ikea (though maybe not a whole house). I rewarded myself with a tasty frozen yoghurt cone, because they were only $1!

I like the beginning and end of Love Actually, where the narrator talks about how happy people are, picking up their friends and relatives at the airport, how open and unaffected. I find that it's often like that at Ikea--people who are shopping there are so often people with their minds on the future, and a happy one. Young couples, buying things for their new life together--cutlery, china, bed linens. Or slightly older couples getting furnishings for the room their new baby will live in. Or older parents, helping their kids pick out shelves and lamps for their dorm room.

Where I live, the population of Ikea is rather like the population of Heathrow, too: lots of Anglo people, of course, but plenty of Africans, of both the American and Western varieties (it's not uncommon for some Americans to wear traditional clothing, but I know the sonorous, orotund accents of Nigeria when I hear them). Lots of young hipsters, some of them in flip flops and cut-offs, some of them in Bermuda shorts my uncles would have worn in the 50s, some of them in the latest styles from The Village (or wherever is cool these days), some of them in hijab (I love the concept of hipster hijab).

And, of course, more than a few South Asian families, with mum and dad in perfectly correct leisurewear just like the Smiths next door, a granny or two in saris, several adorable little kids, and at least one teenager in jeans and t-shirt, trailing behind and wishing the ground would open up and swallow him or her whole so that no one could see them being FORCED to consort with their parents and grandparents.

Then it was on to Trader Joe's for groceries. I meant to just get paper products and milk, but I ended up buying the week's groceries because, well, I was there, and otherwise I'd just have to stop some other night. I brought those home in a downpour and unloaded them between cloudbursts. I'm sitting on the front porch with a few beers, enjoying the cooler air and the rain. I've always loved rain, but I find lately I've acquired a visceral thrill at the sight and sound of rain sheeting down. I trust this will prove very useful in Scotland. :-) the rain's let up a bit, but I think I need to wait a bit longer to get the Ikea bag from the car. Perhaps another beer, while I watch the jays and grackles fly about complaining of the wet? And where did I put that cheese I got?

Just drifting off to sleep after a late and pleasant night with the ex at Wolftrap seeing The Mikado. Cat makes an odd noise and projectile vomits half a can of semi digested cat food off the edge of the bed. Silver lining: it was off, not on the bed. Was thinking of going to Ikea his weekend any way--I think this may be the last strike for this carpet...

New crush: Merritt Wever

In a thread in The Other Place on a topic I'll get to in a moment, one of the usual Tea Party shower said, "if you want to get money out of politics, get government out of our lives."

I replied:

"Yes, get the government out of our lives! I hate having police, firefighters, teachers, sanitation workers, roads, bridges, street lights, libraries, science research, armed forces, crossing guards at schools, low-cost student loans, traffic lights and road signs, safe and discrimination-free workplaces, food that is safe to eat and drugs that do what they say on the label, clean air and clean water, safe skies and airports.

Let's get government out of our lives.

Not."

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Water restored around 2.30 am. Yay!

Cats so unsettled by all the lights and trucks and noise that they were up all night after, making it hard to sleep.

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