Long Time, No Blog

I gave myself a five-day weekend. It was wonderful. For some reason, I chose to take an unpaid five-day weekend. Not so wonderful. But the government will soon send me a cheque that covers the lost income over my lovely time away from the computer. Tax season is sometimes okay. Like this year. In so many ways.

Let me catch you up [Tues-Sun]:

• Brothers (+ girlfriend of Brother 2) arrive by Greyhound
• We eat Easter chocolate
• And blow up the air mattress
  
• We go to dinner
• We see Eugene Mirman at the mall
  
• We see Flight of the Conchords
• We laugh
  
• I wear plaid
  
• We visit a 24-hour grocery store and buy frozen pizza and chocolate milk
• Midnight pizza at my place
• Indoor camping at my place
• The next morning is Brother 1's birthday, so we go out for breakfast
• Breakfast is across the street, beside the under-construction cocktail lounge
• We head to the bus station and say goodbye to Bro 2 + girlfriend
• Bro 1 and I meet up with Vancouver friend and old Guelph friend
• Bro 1 gets on the bus
• He should have boarded a train
• Vancouver friend and I end up in a coffee shop
• We chat, just like old times - but better
  
• We part ways
• I go home and write and write and write
• I sleep
• I go to the gym
• I think about skill sets and career goals
• And ponder the great unknown
  
• And then I try to tell a stranger about said skills and goals
  
• I embed a YouTube video and subsequently embark on a new adventure -- maybe
  
• I fire off invoices
• I do laundry
• I write about Salma Hayek
  
• I wake up super-early
• I read The Great Gatsby on the subway
• I read The Great Gatsby in Tim Hortons
• The parents arrive
• I get in the van, and later notice it's a new van
• It's moving day at Emmanuel Bible College
• I carry Bro 2's CD racks and shoes and watch everyone else move him out
  
• Lunch with grandparents in Kitchener
• So we order pizza
• And eat chocolate cake
• Happy 55th anniversary, Grandma and Grandpa
• Happy birthday, Dad
• We play games
• We watch the sky darken
• And watch the thunderstorm
• I'm dropped off in Toronto
• I prepare for KidMax
• I wake up early
• I go to church in the rain
• I teach kids about the Great Commission
• And build microphones out of cardboard and tinfoil
• Microphones double as weapons
• I go home and nap for two hours
• I make Monday's breakfast and lunch
• I catch up on emails
• I go to 4worship in Newmarket
  
• And sing
• And sing
• And sing
• Jack Astor's for salad and conversation
• Finally home, with this perfect song in my head:

Brooke Fraser is tied with the Conchord boys for favorite New Zealander. But this song doesn't need her. It stands alone.

I feel like I'm forgetting something. But I've been writing all evening and nothing makes sense anymore. I need sleep. So good night.


P.S. Dev Patel and Freida Pinto are dating. So are a lot of other people, I'm sure. But I can only write about one couple at a time. Sheesh.

It Happened Last Night: Brooke Fraser. Again.

She belongs in a another era, no?

I saw Brooke Fraser last night. I'm pretty sure that twice in three months is a record for me. And it's one I'd have no problem breaking, as I'm pretty much an addict now. Love her. As should you. But I don't love her in the way a crazy fan in line professed to, sheepishly admitting that he announced to his friends he was going to marry her before discovering she was, in fact, already married. A real fan would have done his research. Sheesh.

(No, the glasses aren't real. She threw on over-sized plastic frames to distract us from the fact that she wasn't wearing makeup. And then told us all that she wasn't wearing any makeup. 'Cause that's the way she rolls.)

I think I prefer her live. Her album is amazing, but she has a rather oddball sense of humor and inspiring musical proficiency that makes her even better on stage. And her voice is clearer and gutsier and all-around more remarkable when she's in the same room as you. Except when she's cracking up during the first verse of "The Sounds of Silence." Or trying to sing "O Canada." But that's all part of her charm.

Highlight? "Love is Waiting." I love the verses. So much so that every time I hear it, I wish I had written it. Or at least plagiarized a couple lyrics in a conversation I had not all that long ago. I believe this is the first tour with that song on the set list. Mostly because she doesn't know what to do with her hands. (It's the only song that doesn't have her playing the piano or guitar.) So she improvised:

It's my caution, not the cold....

Okay, I'm done gushing now.
I need to learn to play the guitar.

The end.

Desert Song

There are no words.

Bring The Rain is one of my favorite blogs. Because it breaks me daily. It's raw. It's vulnerable. It's honest. And it brings me to my knees.

I've never lost a child. But lately, I've been learning a lot from those who have. Learning what it is to be broken without being defeated. Learning what it is to just be real. To scream at God and worship Him at the same time. Because He can take it.

It Happened Last Night: The Encore

It Happened Last Night: Brooke Fraser

She makes the kind of music that sounds like a pop marshmallow has dropped into a folk hot chocolate and become a warm, spicy chocolatey broth.

BrookeFraser.com

She was spectacular. As was expected. And instead of inarticulate gushiness, I shall leave it at that.

Love her.