24 Hours: Montreal via Boston via Phoenix

So, I wake up in Scottsdale, AZ at the Double Tree Paradise Valley and head to the Sky Harbor Airport in Phoenix and catch my 8:09 AM flight back to Boston via Denver.

While in Phoenix, I ate at a fun, trendy restaurant called AZ 88 (Check it out!). Fun cocktails, great burger and an attractive wait staff. If you get to Scottsdale, check it out. It's near the library, city hall and the arts center. Even at night, it was a nice area to walk around since there are all these great fountains.


And, here's some of the boys at BS West that I DID NOT get to meet! I wanted to go there since it was near the hotel, but I was too dogged tired on Thursday evening and needed to get a good night's rest before my cross country flight to Boston to then drive up to Montreal. Maybe next time . . .





So, I get to Boston's Logan airport at 6:09 PM on Friday evening and my buddy picks me up shortly after 7:00 PM so that we can begin the five hour drive to Montreal.


The ride went quickly and we arrive at the Loews Hotel Vogue just after midnight.

The hotel

Our bathroom


And, an example of the bedroom (ours had two full size beds)














Of course, we decided to go out. Montreal, unlike Boston, is one of those cities where the bars and clubs stay open till 3:00 or 4:00 in the morning.





Refreshing!





And, Saturday night we dined at a restaurant called "Le Saloon". Fun! The wait staff all look alike. They're all thin, dark Animé-coifed 20-somethings. AND, they're friendly and polite. Refreshing! Oh, yeah, and the cocktails, food and wine were good, too.



During the day we went to the museum and saw several great exhibitions.

My favorite was by an artist named Vik Muniz. He 'builds' images from manipulating caviar, peanut butter, jelly, string, wire and diamonds on solid backgrounds (floors, table tops, etc.). My favorite is this photograph of diamonds formed to copy a photograph of Elizabeth Taylor. You have to see it close up to realize its comprised entirely of diamonds on a flat, black background; here, it looks just like a photograph, but it's not. His work is amazing.


And, before we left Montreal on Sunday afternoon, we popped into this great T-shirt shop called "Bang-On".



I'd wanted to get a Montreal T-shirt, but ended up getting two custom T-shirts instead. Though this isn't the image on my T-shirt, it is still a stunning one of "Chip and Dale". Mine has a big glittery gold star behind Chip and Dale facing one another and having an (apparently) animated conversation. And, the second one is another retro image. It's of an green AMC Hornet. It was the car I drove in high school. I thought it would be fun to wear to T-dance next summer in P-town at the Boatslip. I'm sure the Chip and Dale T-shirt will turn a few heads, too. But, what the hell! You only live once. I finally get it.



So, for someone who's never been to Montreal, I thoroughly enjoyed it. And, I will go back. All-in-all, my week of travel was a wonderful and rewarding one. I lead a good life. And, I'm grateful for all the opportunities presented to me. I'm also glad that I'm smart enough to take advantage of them all and to experience them to the fullest! I'm blessed. We all are . . . enjoy and savor every moment, please. =;-)

Mom

It truly is the simple things in life that are the most rewarding.

Whether it's a special dinner made for you by a friend, apple butter made by your Mom, apple sauce made by a co-worker, a hug from a trusted friend or the opportunity to meet up with friends and co-workers you both admire and love, it truly is the simple things that make the difference.

And, this past weekend I had the opportunity to play host to my mom for a couple of days at my place in Provincetown.

It was wonder-filled.

The older I get, the older my parents get, the more I learn about the experiences others have with their parents, the more I cherish the times I have with my own parents.

I got lucky. My parents wanted kids regardless of who they became. They got the whole "unconditional love" thing before it was in vogue.

Yeah, they had their disagreements. I'll never forget my dad telling my brother and I, just a couple of years ago, that he had a vasectomy because he didn't want any more children. I guess he wanted two or three and my mom wanted four or so.

And, I find it fascinating that he shared that with us. That's tough stuff.

I mean, how does a couple negotiate something like the 'size' of their family? It must be fulfilling and heart-wrenching at times. BUT, at least they negotiated it.

Anyway, back to my main point . . . my parents wanted to be parents. They loved raising children and I know they love their children.

I guess my childhood experience was atypical in the sense that my parents truly wanted to be parents and were willing -- once the reality sunk in -- to devote themselves to the art and science of parenting.

I am not just grateful, but blessed, that this was their aim.

So, mom made a 'Windfall' cake from a recipe she found in one of my 'home' books. (It is AWESOME!)

And, we got a chance to do some window shopping in town on Saturday before we had lunch at Fanizzi's in the East End. It's on the water, so we got these awesome views of the bay under a typically gray autumn sky.

I mean, we did nothing (yet everything) extraordinary.

Later, she went to mass. I went to the hardware store to buy a cap for a pipe that houses the shut off valve for the gas or water pipe of my neighbors that sits in my patio.

I picked mom up after mass and we went to the beach and each had a beer as we watched the sun begin to set.

I then went home and cooked an AWESOME dinner of pork medallions (on the grill), green beans, red potatoes with rosemary and garlic and this wonderful apple sauce made by a co-worker of mine.

Well, I'm repeating myself. But, it was a great weekend.

And, I just want to let you all know how grateful I am for my parents.

I've been struck by less than stellar experiences of friends of mine with their parents, so much so that I wanted to be sure to celebrate my wonder-filled experiences with mine.

And, I keep seeing Barbara's mom as the Monarch butterfly. It's October! They're usually long gone by now, but there she was to greet me at Herring Cove this weekend.

Wonderful . . .

Red Geraniums

Bird Mancini are a multi-talented, gifted and wonder-filled wife and husband team of singer/songwriter musician-ambition who graciously contributed to a track on my CD. Specifically, Ruby Bird played accordion on a track of mine called "Surrender".

Well, tonight I decided to "Google" myself. Surprisingly, I found several references to me as a singer/songwriter and country/folk singer. Who knew?!

Anyway, and more importantly, when I discovered this Bird Mancini video of "Red Geraniums" on YouTube, I just had to share.

Red Geraniums by Bird Mancini



I love this song so much, I had included it on a compilation CD called "All The Love In The World" as the disc's closer. Who knew it had a video?!

Enjoy!

The J Sessions - Wishin' CD and a 'Chick Flick'

Well, the CD, "The J Sessions - Wishin'", is well on its way to completion. I found out today that The Gamble Mansion (where the primary photos for the CD packaging were taken) is closing at the end of the year. It's been sold. I have no idea what it's fate is, but I feel blessed and fortunate to have been able to rent the space for the photo shoot for the CD images. Who knows? It may not be available to the public after the sale.



And, I got my first 'proof' today. It's the CD spine label complete with my own bar code. It's official. I'm now a commodity!




Additionally, I registered my 12 original songs with BMI today. I remember as a kid looking at album track lists and reading the songwriter and publishing credits and seeing ASCAP and BMI after the songwriter's credits and publisher's names. I was SO-O-O envious! I always wanted to be registered with one or the other. Now, I am! So, should someone want to record my songs, I've got BMI to track the royalties. Who knows? It could happen. If not, I like the way it looks in the CD booklet. So there!

But, the best part about today? Well, I enjoyed (another spontaneous) evening with a good friend of mine, Carolyn. She'd rented the DVD of "The Notebook" from Netflix and we'd agreed to watch it together.

I'm such a girl! I LOVE it! Well, it was sort of a 'guy' night, too. Instead of eating a pint of Ben & Jerry's ice cream, we ate pizza (with meat toppings, of course) and drank beers.

Anyway, "The Notebook" was a joy to watch. It varied a little too much from the book, for my taste. And, I guess to make it more 'marketable' to today's audiences, Nick Cassavettes, the director, changes the tone considerably. So, the overall intimacy and introspective tone of the book was 'amped' up with these almost neurotic performances by the actors; however, the 'true' essence of the story was not lost.

So, Carolyn and I sat there under quilts with a box of Kleenex between us.

The most touching sequences were often the scenes between James Garner as the elder 'Noah' and Gena Rowlands as the Alzheimer-stricken 'Ally'.


At one point, their children come to visit them at the nursing home. Ally doesn't recognize them and leaves for a nap shortly after their arrival. Once she's gone, their adult children plead with their father, Noah, to come home. BUT, he states something to the effect of: "I can't. My sweetheart's here. I can't leave her." Kleenex please!!!

Anyway, it was touching and reminds me of how I hope to have a love like that in this lifetime that will last. But, if not, I've had a taste of it. And, that's more than many have had.

Also, though a deviation from the book, the fact that the elderly Noah crawls into the nursing home bed of Ally (after he's returned from a hospitial stay recovering from his third heart attack in two years) and she remembers him and they kiss, hold hands and fall into eternal sleep together was a amazing. I cried when they each said "Goodnight" to one another. I miss a goodnight kiss and those simple words most, I guess.

It's funny. I never really think about it, but the recreation in the film of those tender, yet simple moments, struck me like a bolt of lightening: a 'kiss' and then: "Goodnight."

When He Kissed Me

The "Kiss Me" Company
(BTW . . . Great 'company'!)

Ahh . . . what a night! Thanks to you all who showed up to see "When He Kissed Me", a fund raiser for GLBT youth. It was amazing, memorable and will apparently live on in at least two more upcoming 'gigs' as a result.

Below is the 'script' of my reading. I hope you enjoy it! Thanks again all. You mean more to me than you may ever know . . .

The Moment True Love Arrived
(November 23rd, 2001)

A small bird flits around my shoulders then circles around my head. I turn and look up as he flies higher away from me, before swinging downward and darting back behind me. Suddenly, gently, he lands on my right shoulder, nuzzles up to my neck then quietly falls asleep . . . While the little bird rests there, I feel at peace.

How else can I describe him: “The Love of My Lives”? As he’s always done – in all of the lifetimes we’ve shared throughout the centuries – he flits, like a bird, in and out of my life. I try to grasp hold of him . . . to keep him close . . . But – like a little bird – he keeps moving. And, even when together, I can’t keep up with him. He flits so quickly from place to place. I try to keep up . . .

After nine months of playing cat and bird, he flies away, but never far from my heart or mind. The morning we part, we hug one another. My arms – around his waist – hold him close. He rests his chin on my right shoulder and wraps his arms tightly around my neck. For the first time – a rare time – he cries. I wonder if the kiss that preceded his tears would be our last one. This, our first and five-week long separation (my idea) lasts two days (when I phone him).

Two weeks later, in mid-June 2001, we reconnect and then spend a wonderful, if sometimes tense, summer together. Yet, four months later, on Thursday, October 25, we break up again. Our relationship collapses under the weight of emotional upheavals we cannot negotiate around the death of my last partner’s father.

I want space and support. He turns and flies away . . .

A month later, Thanksgiving arrives and I miss him still. I wonder with whom he now spends his time. Mostly, I feel lonely and melancholy.

A couple of weeks earlier, we’d agreed to meet up Thanksgiving weekend and continue a tradition we’d begun the year before: collecting pinecones, cedar boughs and winterberry for decorating our Christmas wreaths.

He arrives at my place in Provincetown around 8:30 AM. Bright, crisp and cool, this Friday after Thanksgiving, I watch from my living room as he walks past my window. Seeing him, my heart – as always – skips at least a beat or two, then stops for a moment.

He lets himself in. We banter back and forth. He jokingly says something sarcastic about something I’ve said a moment before. Once again, he catches me off guard. He creates a safe distance – physical, but more importantly, emotional – from me.

We leave the house and walk to his vehicle. I place a blue plastic bin, (for holding the branches and boughs), and two pairs of pruning clippers, into the back before we both climb into the cab and drive off.

At our first stop, we gather branches of scrub pine, loaded with beige clusters of wide-opened, ball-shaped pinecones. Our hands get sticky from the sap seeping from the freshly cut ends of the branches. The smell of pine is intoxicating. We smell Christmas in the air.

Driving on, we locate a stand of winterberry bushes along the road bordering Pilgrim Lake. We pull up onto the roadside and grab our pruning clippers.

We wander into the brush and navigate our way around the muddied bases of the shrubs. We reach high inside them and clip small branches boasting the finest, fullest bunches of red-orange berries.

We carry them back to his vehicle. Carefully, I separate each branch from the others and then place each atop our other finds. Then I turn and take his branches from him and put each of those into the bin, too.

We chat about nothing and everything. I take the last branch from him and turn, then lean over the tailgate through the opened window. I hear myself say something, anything in response to him, and then – suddenly – I feel it.

At the nape of my neck, I feel the pressure of something land: . . . small, light, soft and warm. Almost immediately, I realize he’s kissed me. I lose it.

Uncontrollably, I feel my eyes close and my face scrunch up. I realize I’m trying to hold back tears. I freeze in place. For a second, I discover I can’t move. Then, as quickly as I’d lost my composure, I recover.

I can’t let him see the tears that had welled up in my eyes a moment before. I have to turn around and face him. I have to go on.

So, I turn toward him. We each catch the other’s gaze. He’s beaming. He has a wonderful smile.

And then, I see it all. I ‘get it’ . . . all. Finally, I understand.

Even though we’re no longer a couple, though we may never be physically intimate again, and though we may never spend another lifetime together, I understand that he still loves me. I know now he loves me unconditionally, forever and for always.

We discover ‘true’ love.

The moment changes us forever. And, I now know – always – it is “The Moment ‘True’ Love Arrived”.

Kiss . . .

Oh! What the hell! In anticipation of "When He Kissed Me". Here's someone's homage to Marilyn's "Kiss" from the film "Niagara". (My favorite? The 'rewinds/replays and rewinds/replays".) If you've never seen the film. See it! It's fun film noir nearing the end of its 'hey-day'. Click on "Kiss" to view the video.