Friday, September 7
So, here I am, 40. It's been good so far. I had hoped to post a picture here with a black belt and an oiled six-pack, but oh well. I did, however, start my 40s well, standing up on a sweet Gidget-era Hansen/Cardiff longboard for a precious millisecond. Ok, it was actually more like a low crouch, but my knees and hands were off the board and I was moving, so I'm counting it as surfing, dammit. There were about a dozen dolphins swimming and playing in the vicinity, too; it was magic.
After that it was meat, meat and more meat as B and I scouted out locations for the big dinner. We tried a couple churrascarias (B investigated the veggie options; I went straight for the men with the swords) and settled on Brasilia in Newark's Ironbound section. I hope everybody had a good time. I don't think anybody left hungry. I'm glad I had the ballast in my stomach to keep me from getting silly in the drinking afterward. Ahem. I didn't want any presents, but I got some, and they were thoughtful and wonderful and I feel very lucky.
I read on a uke bulletin board that the NY Uke Ensemble was going to be marching in the Soho Art Parade and invited hangers-on to come join them. So I emailed the guy, got the list of songs to learn, talked a friend into going, and we went to the rehearsal last night. And there they dropped one song, added two others, transposed one into a totally new key, added a new section to one song and a segue into something else, and rearranged the other ones. So it involved a little more thinking on my feet than I'd anticipated, and I loved it, once the initial panic subsided. Now I'm in the woodshed for another day and this time tomorrow I'll be marching, in a loud shirt and apparently some sort of headwear that will be issued to me.
3:44 PM
