Monday, February 11, 2008

Grammy no see.

First off, I am besides myself for not having seen the Grammy Awards. I truly have no idea how it played out, and in spite of my frustration with America's obession with rehab starlets, I was morbidly curious to see Amy Winehouse. Damnit.

That said, I wont be complaining too much as I had a love fest over the Pacific ocean. One might consider my journey to seem exhausting. My 2 year old, husband, 5 bags ( I cant pack light) and myself boarding a plane to Hawaii. Right at the climactic moment of take off, I heard an alarm go off in the cock pit. Did I panic with fear? No. I panicked at the thought that we would be grounded on the tarmack. I hate my intuition. We sat for three hours staring down an eight hour and eighteen minute flight.

Behind me was a couple who had been married for 59 years . MARRIED. I don't know anybody who has done anything other than BREATHE consecutively for 59 years. Let alone, be attached. It was amazing. The Lesbian couple to my side, and the stinky, overly drunk dude fuming of onions and taxi cab in my kitty corner. So it goes. About the love fest...

My daughter was a dream. Not the kind of well-behaved scale of she didnt throw anything or scream at the top of her lungs...I mean we snuggled. We talked, we laid together we watched Dora, we dined and drank. It was unbelievable. Almost as if she knew we were heading to something better ( the tempeture change including windchills was about an 80 degree difference). Maybe there is something about a voyage, maybe Bill Murray was right in "Lost in Translation" when he said: "One day..they learn to walk and talk and they become the most delightful people you will ever meet." She had been up since 6:am Chicago time, and didn't get a chance to sleep until 1:00am the next morning ( which was 9pm here). My little trooper.

I have no great review of an award show, I have nothing funny or insightful to say about today's commercialzed quota-filling for music, or Kanye's wins, Joni Mitchell's instrumental nod, or brag about the fact that I saw Herbie Hancock live in a small venue in Sydney....All I can say is:

Mahalo. The greatest journey, the stuff people write and sing songs that win awards about can be on going, but its fruiation will pop up (like on an airplane) and remind you how far you have come. Mine, was a little girl who happens to be an extension of myself returning my love-investments in spades!

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