Art Acquisition!

A few weeks ago we were visiting the Roq la Rue Gallery and saw this excellent collection of pop surreal art. Now those of you who have seen my Wolpertinger know I like this kind of weird art, but this stuff was a little beyond what we had hanging on our walls.
I took a liking to several artists' works, but one in particular I decided to check out when I got home. Turned out to be a lucky break - the framed prints at the gallery were going for thousands, but I was able to get my hands on a delightful little Travis Louie print for a song.
The one I bought is titled Naven Overcomes his Phobia. I love it, and can't wait to find the perfect little oval frame to hang it on the walls here. Looks like one of those creepy ancestor photos, doesn't it??

NPR Homework at Mike's Wedding

Sunday when we were driving home from Portland (and Mike Rabby's wedding), I heard a request on All Things Considered. Their Homework segment is an opportunity for listeners to speak up about something, and in this week's segment they asked folks to write in about a song that meant something to them. The timing couldn't have been better - I was thinking about this all weekend. I was compelled to write.

Here's what I sent them:

A few weeks before his wedding, my high school friend Mike told me he had put a song in the dance mix to remember Dawn, a friend of ours who had died. He wouldn't tell me what the song was, but he expected me to know. There was only one song for Dawn, and the memory of it playing still makes me laugh and cry.

Twenty years ago we were all high school seniors, finishing our last semester of school, writing for our school newspaper and getting ready for prom, graduation, and college. One day during a particularly intense deadline run, we all stopped, put on some music and just danced. I remember Dawn, full of life, on a desk with her bra swinging overhead to Erasure's A Little Respect. The joy was palpable, the future ahead of us. Nothing could stop us.

A few days after graduation, Dawn learned she had a brain tumor. That fall when we all left for school, Dawn stayed behind, resentful and hurt. She died before Christmas.

Two days ago I stood in the sweltering heat dressed to the nines, watching Mike dance with his new bride, still wondering if that would be the song. It was. When it came on, there was a dizzying moment that felt like I'd jumped off a building - and I ran to the dance floor, hugged him, and we laughed and cried the rest of the song.

Postscript:
Two days after I submitted this, I got a call from NPR. They recorded my story for the coming weekend's Homework selection, and I'm now waiting to see if it got selected for the on-air spot.

What's next in the JIP?

I think yoga again over the winter, and continued walks when we can.
And I also think I'll take a class through UW on Memoir writing. It's about time.