bear

On Election Night, I went out to pick up groceries and ate an ice cream sandwich (cardamom ice cream with chocolate cookies) for dinner and then ignored the outside world as best I could. hyounpark was in San Diego for work; Elana invited me over to her friend's house, and I just couldn't with the world. I basically hibernated until Wednesday night, when I had to drag myself out for tech week for Carmina Burana.

I wore my What a Cluster! t-shirt; appreciative comments all around. Our director opened things up by leading us in Lean On Me a cappella. Reminded us that we, as artists, as musicians, were going to be called upon as "first responders to the soul." Read An Artist's Response to Violence aloud:

We loved [John F. Kennedy] for the honor in which he held art, in which he held every creative impulse of the human mind, whether it was expressed in words, or notes, or paints, or mathematical symbols. This reverence for the life of the mind was apparent even in his last speech, which he was to have made a few hours after his death. He was to have said: “America’s leadership must be guided by learning and reason.” ...Learning and Reason: the motto we here tonight must continue to uphold with redoubled tenacity, and must continue, at any price, to make the basis of all our actions. ... Our music will never again be quite the same. This will be our reply to violence: to make music more intensely, more beautifully, more devotedly than ever before.

And then we made music.

Afterwards, hyounpark and I walked towards the BART station, and at the light, a sedan with the windows down, passengers hanging out the windows, pulled up next to us, absolutely buh-last-ing FDT. Had a little defiant dance party on the sidewalk, a moment of community, and as the light turned green and they drove away, I felt a little better.

Lather, rinse, repeat for Thursday (honestly, tech week couldn't have been better timed for all of us in need of something to focus on and not doom-spiral over), and then Friday night concert. Someone on TikTok posted the first movement of our performance of Carmina Burana; their first time at the symphony. And they got to see a professional symphony conducted by somebody like them; see a chorus conducted by somebody like them. The classical music world has the potential to be a hell of a lot more inclusive; this is proof the efforts are worth it.

Since then, it's been reassuring to see people, commiserate, talk about next steps, what was getting us through the current moment. Even so, as I put things to try to look forward to on the calendar, it all feels so tenuous. But I've also been reminded of the value of being "900% me," as Kat put it. Showing friends the ridiculous platter of pastries we've been working our way through all week (thank you Paris Bakery, Alta Bakery, Ad Astra Bread Company, and Krispy Kreme); noghri remarking on the presence of donuts from that last iconic bakery with "you still like those?" Me: "I blame my Southern husband for continued exposure, but yes!" He, smiling, "I still remember how we met all that time ago." Me: "Yeah, my reaction made quite the impression, hahaha." So then I had to tell the other friends present the story of how I introduced myself to noghri, which is basically (seriously, I didn't manage to LJ this back then?! ugh, past self, why so coy!):

Setting: elemmire7's going away party, July 2003
Me: *perusing the snacks table, wondering what to munch on next*
*the doorbell rings*
noghri: *enters, bearing a box of Krispy Kremes, which were so new to Boston at that point they'd only recently opened up their Wellington location*
Me: *spies cute guy entering with said box of Krispy Kremes, promptly vaults across the room and lands firmly in front of him* "You brought Krispy Kremes! You're cool!"
noghri: *stares at me, a total stranger, at a loss for words*

Everybody hearing this story for the first time: "... yep, we can visualize *and* auralize exactly how this went down!"

So, yeah. Being 900% me in the topics I've posted about to Bluesky, since that seems to be where people are migrating for shorter-form conversation and staying in touch with each other at least one step further removed from the control of billionaires; so far I have talked about indie bookstores and transportation cycling and choral music. Being 900% me in digging into Thanksgiving menu planning - eyeing this pumpkin basque cheesecake, but also considering a persimmon custard tart with hojicha meringue? Kristina Cho mentioned it in her Instagram stories earlier this week; the recipe hasn't been posted yet, but it sounds right up my alley. Being 900% me in pondering, as Jackie asked us at coffee ride this week, what is my actual role in my communities now and in the future.

Because all I really have control over in the big picture is being true to myself, so.

Before all of this, we were in New York the week before last, with the classic Northeastern fall temperatures to match. The weather was utterly glorious - brisk sweater weather in the morning admonishing me for not wanting to drag the bulk of a jacket cross-country (and feeling unwarrantedly smug that I still had some Northeastern weather tolerance cred as other people scuttled around me in full-length puffers, come on, you're behaving like Bay Area kids ;) ), warming up to shirtsleeves weather perfect for a late lunch in the sun, and then gently cooling off for cozy patio dinners. Not quite fall yet by foliage standards - the trees in the city were only just starting to turn, still in that late-summer slightly yellowing green phase, but I did spot at least a couple of patches of crimson in my rambles.

( Tuesday: in transit, bookstores for breakfast, KBBQ dinner )

( Wednesday: cold temperatures = personal best speeds?! The Whitney with Andrew, meandering along the Hudson, Julia Turshen )

( Thursday: Roosevelt Island, ferry to and then biking through Brooklyn, the Ripped Bodice and community, Olmsted and autumn on a plate )

And then Friday morning, squeezed in one more record-breaking jog - a similar set of laps around the park, and then down Broadway to Union Square. Replaced my Strand tote that had succumbed to time, and then tucked in some apple and pear cider donuts, tiny TSA-safe tipples of whiskey from the farmers' market; finally made it to Li-Lac Chocolates as well per the insistence of another friend. Final stop: grabbing a proper bagel from Bagels & Schmear near my hotel on our way out of the city; I love you, New York, there's never enough time.

I think I am pretty much doomed to never catch up.

( a few days in Boston )

And then I get back Sunday afternoon and hyounpark greets me with "I said yes to performing at the Opera House this week, but I don't know if you've been checking your email, but I think they're assuming you're performing too because that's what happens when a married couple joins a choir?" Me: "A who in the what are we doing now?"

I'd thought our season was over. But our choral director got a last-minute call for us to close out a symposium on gun violence prevention and the role the arts can play in community healing, being done in conjunction with one of the operas San Francisco Opera is doing this season (Innocence) about the aftermath of a school shooting. So I went to Boston to recover from tech week and then came back into a surprise tech week, heh. Still very glad I did it, though. Afterwards, us singing in the stairwell of the Opera House, even more ethereal and better acoustics.

In the middle of that tech week, though, we had tickets for Sarah McLachlan at the Greek, and damn, I hope I still have those kind of pipes when I'm her age. I'd been expecting she was just going to do the songs off Fumbling Towards Ecstasy, but she began with a full set before that.

( Feist opened: )

( Sarah McLachlan setlist )

Somehow, this has become the month of shows - on top of our long-extant plans for SML, we saw The Lehman Trilogy last Saturday with CJ and Elana; for our part in singing in the symposium, we have tickets to go see Innocence next week; I have tickets for Iron and Wine at the Fox at the end of the month. And then my freshman year roommate messaged me a few days ago and was like, "Do you like Vampire Weekend? I've got an extra ticket for their show at the Greek." So definitely keeping busy!

So while I was riding over the Park Street Bridge on my way to Coffee Cultures (FOR AFFOGATO (not enough people out here understand the power of ice cream in your coffee before about 1 pm, let alone the power of ice cream when it's about 40F out) and an excellent salmon toast) this morning, apparently, there was an earthquake in New Jersey. Predictably, my heavily Northeastern-occupied friends feeds are exploding with talk about it.

(The more things change, the more they stay the same: I wrote this poem about a New York earthquake in 2002, and aside from 2024's commentary being mostly on Facebook and 2002's commentary being mostly via IM and LiveJournal? Yep :) )

Almost into February, I should try to post about the first half of December before it's all out of my head.

* My birthday overlapped with Chanukah this year, so after starting off the morning with a ride to Kinfolx and breakfast on the patio, we headed over to Masse's to pick up my birthday cake (a chocolate ruffle torte), and they also had sufganiyot, twist my arm. Saul's had their giant latke frying stage set up outside, ready for the dinner crowds. And of course, walking right by Books Inc, we stopped in and walked out with an armload of books. On our way out, luck was on our side - the line at Cheeseboard was stunningly short, so we grabbed a half-baked mushroom pizza from them, and that and cake and candles accompanied our Friday zoom with faraway friends.

* The next day, one of my favorite popup bakeries was having a popup an easy bike ride away, so of course I popped down and picked up some croissants. (My favorite, her urfa snails, croissant dough studded with urfa pepper and rolled into a spiral, then topped with garlic labneh and an herby salad I could happily eat on its own.) Heading up the street, I passed the Christmas tree lot and realized they had tabletop-size trees. Ten minutes later, a burly guy was attaching one of said trees to the back rack of my bike with a spiderweb of twine. Baby's first ever Tree By Bike, hashtag, what, I've only been biking for transportation for how many years now?

* The day after that, we survived the very long day for the winter concert, leaving the house at 9 am for 10 am call time and not getting home until 8 pm, BeReal chimes and all. I loved singing Ešenvalds' Stars, but it was really hard to tell what the audience was hearing of it, especially the wineglasses, in the relative cavern of the Paramount. But the audience was there for the Tina Turner tribute songs and the holiday songs, and also many proud parents watching their babies performing with the grown-up choirs (and teenagers trying to pretend they were jaded and worldly but bursting with excitement at being on the big stage with the adults). And more importantly, despite adding choreo to the African Noel, nobody fell off the risers!

* The day after *that*, the Al Gore Rhythms told me Sarah McLachlan was going to perform at the Greek in May, and I snagged tickets; I guess this is becoming an annual tradition, shelling out for a big concert of someone I've never seen live but been meaning to. She's going to be performing everything off Fumbling Towards Ecstasy, so this is clearly a 30-years-belated present to my teenage self the way the DCFC/TPS concert was a 20-years-belated present to my mid-twenties self. I wonder who will be performing at the Greek in 2025 that would be a present to my elementary school self. Raffi?

(Also, I was joking with a friend that she was going to partner with the local humane society at each stop, perform Angel as an encore (I know, it was on Surfacing, not FTE), and get everyone in the audience to take home a shelter pet.)

* Later that week, we had our choir potluck banquet to celebrate making it through the first half of the season. I screwed up making orange blossom chocolate crinkles, they emphatically did not crinkle. But one of the new recruit choir aunties (literally, one of the tenors brought his aunt, and she's an alto, and we're in recruiting mode) LOVED them, so I packed her home with a box of the last half dozen. You compliment my baking, I am putty in your hands!

* And then we STAYED THE FUCK HOME because oh my god low social battery, knowing H's family was coming to town for Christmas ten days later.

Biker on the Bay Trail; me in the car on the Eastshore Freeway, wishing I was there instead. (Original post.)

It took a lot longer to return to Boston for another visit than planned.

When we last hugged everyone "until next time," it was a chilly, slushy late December week in 2019; we stayed with bitty and arfur and baked up a storm, prepping for Jewmas on our last night in town. Made it to Burdicks and Harvard Books; managed to grab bellinis and tapas with Ingrid the night we flew in and the night before she flew out; admired danamae's adorable and fast-growing kids; checked out the fancy new French joint with mrieser. Bemused the BC crowd walking into chez noghri and Cris with a bewildering amount of home-baked cookies (chocolate toffee classics, (passionfruit) meringue swirls, (fivespice) chocolate hazelnut baklava, (raspberry) chocolate chip cookies, and Baby Yodas based on BA's black-and-white-and-green cookies), safely maintaining my reputation of being ~juuust~ a bit extra. Hugged Bitty and Arthur goodbye Christmas morning as it began to snow, blithely declaring that of course we'd be back soon and could paint our hands on their closet then. Missed jpallan and crschmidt due to illness, but weren't too concerned; we'd catch them next time, right?

( my heart, my heart; you don't have to go home in a straight line )

post-tags: instagram, crosspost Left work sick midday, but our snowpack is now below waist level! #30daysofbiking #everydayonabike

Cookie Number One. #cookieride

post-tags: instagram, crosspost Hey @mbta, why is every single bike in the Alewife cages ticketed for removal? My bike is not abandoned; it's been here 6 hours.