We’ll just call this a Friday round up since I don’t really have anything to say.  I just want to make sure I continue being a Tiny Pepper and post for Nano Poblano.  It’s the 20th today, and I’ve almost made it through the entire month; I’d hate to break the streak now.

I also want to note that this week marked the birthday of one of my dear, dear friends from high school, whom I recently reconnected with on Facebook.  Like so many of the people I spent those wonderfulconfusingexcitingdesperate years with, we lost touch.  She got married, had kids, moved up to NorCal. . . all the usual stuff.  The only reason I joined Facebook was to get back into touch in some small way with people like her, and I’m so glad I did.  This is just a little shout out to her, because knowing she (and all the other old friends I found) are out there is such a nice thing.

It’s an appropriate song, in spite of the fact that Adele is singing about such heartbreak in it.  I’m not heartbroken (one of the eternally pleasant byproducts of swearing off romance) about anything, and certainly not finding friends.  But this is just an awesome song by an awesome artist.  You might think that I’m a little behind since this has been making the rounds on the interwebs for a couple of weeks now, but the album just dropped today and I picked up a copy when I was at Target today; call it an early Christmas gift to myself.  I’m very much looking forward to listening to the rest.

I have to go now, because the kettle is starting to whistle and I really want my cuppa.


“Victims of the Darkness”


Today is the birthday of one of my lovely blogging and Facebook friends, Sandee Harris.  She is fierce and beautiful and funky, so join me in wishing her many happy returns.

Please note that the choice of song today has nothing to do with Sandee personally.  In reality, the darkness would probably be a victim of hers.  I selected this Allen Toussaint number because it is as funky as she is, and I’m still missing his great musical voice a little bit.

Belated Birthday Wishes


It was the birthday of a dear friend of mine just a couple of days ago—let’s call him Kilgore Trout since he’s a huge Vonnegut fan.  I usually forget his birthday because it falls in June, and I’ve functioned on the school calendar for much of my adult life.  We worked together for a number of years, and while he was a year-long employee, I only worked the school year.  Even though we don’t work together anymore, we still get together occasionally.  It’s not as much as I’d like (and hopefully not as much as he and his lovely wife, also my friend, would like either).

Anywho, I ran into Kilgore unexpectedly a couple of weeks ago, and since we both said we should be in touch more, I thought a nice way to do this would be to send him some belated birthday wishes.  Since I’m pretty sure I can’t do this telepathically, I’ll do it with a slightly more conventional blog post and a song from a mutual favorite of ours: the late great Warren Zevon.  I thought this clip was pretty awesome, even though the end of the song is bleeped (hey, it was network television).

Happy birthday, Kilgore.  You know who to call if you need any lawyers, guns, or money.

Anyone besides me. 🙂



So I was going to do a semi-obligatory post commemorating the 50th anniversary of Marilyn Monroe’s death (good-bye, Norma Jean).  But I’ve never really liked “Candle in the Wind” that much.  I listened to “Our Little Angel,” an Elvis Costello song suggested by my BFF that she reads as being about Marilyn, but I didn’t interpret it that way.  Besides, I just posted an Elvis Costello song yesterday.  I hate being too repetitive.

I spent the afternoon with my BFF, her husband Mr. BFF, and their amazing daughter.  It was nice.  We walked around 4th St. in Long Beach, had lunch together, and talked about the upcoming season of Doctor Who (it looks pretty awesome, in spite of the fact that we’ll be losing Rory and Amy as the companions).  It was, all in all, a nice day.  We’ve been friends since we were sophomores in high school, so you could say we know each other pretty well by now.  We think alike in almost all ways, although we disagree here and there (wouldn’t want things to get boring after all).  I can’t imagine my life without her.

So when I get home and begin to contemplate tonight’s post, this comes on. . .

I love Rickie Lee Jones.  She’s best known for her charming and jazzy hit “Chuck E’s in Love” (written about former boyfriend Chuck E. Weiss), but she’s had a long career of wonderful, sweet, and quirky music.  In 1989, she released Flying Cowboys which is my favorite all-around album by her.  It’s full of graceful, ethereal music full of almost surreal images and characters.  But it’s all a poetic cover for songs about family and friendships, about the people who power our lives and help us find our way.

I’ve always associated “Satellites” with my BFF.  There’s no special relationship or incident connecting her to the song.  It just sounds like us.  “Well, we were born forever, we are twinned in a fugitive mind.  Friends should stay together, light the world with the fugitive kind.”  Right from the beginning, we banded together, two misfits trapped in suburbia, trying to figure out where we fit in the world.  We both always cared more about books and music than hair and makeup.  Justice was more important to us than ambition.  Goodness knows we’ve got our faults, but we’ve always been able to look past them to see what really matters.  There are always others that come in and out of both of our lives, but we’ve managed to hang together for nearly thirty years.  We went from crushes and adolescent angst, to money woes and aging parents.  Here’s to the next thirty years, and complaining about our aching knees and dentures.