It’s Friday, which means that I spend some time sending my iPod into shuffle mode to see what comes out. I then post the first ten songs here, no exceptions, no deletions, no excuses. Let’s see what the pod spits out today…

1. Blue, Lucinda Willians (Essence)
2. Mary, Sarah McLachlan (Fumbling Towards Ecstacy)
3. Ted’s Waltz, Beth Orton (Daybreaker)
4. Julia, Chocolate Genius (I Am Sam)
5. Message in a Bottle, John Mayer (Any Given Thursday)
6. Charleston, Django Reinhardt (Django)
7. Linger, Jonatha Brook (Steady Pull)
8. The Rhyme Intervention featuring 4th Pyramid, C-Rayz Walz (Paste Sampler)
9. Hold On, Sarah McLachlan (Fumbling Towards Ecstacy)
10. Tender Mercies, Eliza Gilkyson (Mississippi Studios Live)

and the bonus track, because in the world of random shuffle, it isn’t nearly random enough…

11. Entertainment is My Business, Country Joe McDonald (Mississippi Studios Live)

Favorite Song: Hold On by Sarah McLachlan. I’m a girl, and so I love this woman. I think it’s part of the code. I’ve seen her in concert a couple of times. The first time was back in 1998 at the Lilith Fair kick off that year, which happened to be in Portland, OR (at Civic Stadium, which is now called PGE Park. I hate corporate sponsorship renaming). That was a fun day. I had bought a ticket for my sister, but the week before she had gotten a job at boy scout camp (I have pictures of her in that boyscout uniform, they are hilarious) and had to work, so I ended up going with a bunch of friends instead. Other performers there that year were The Indigo Girls, Erika Badu, Natalie Merchant and Sinead O’Connor. I would have gladly traded Erika and Sinead for Emmy Lou Harris and Bonnie Raitt. Unfortunately, it was not to be.

Spookiest Song: The Rhyme Intervention featuring 4th Pyramid, C-Rayz Walz, because this was on the list last week, and I said then that was going to delete it from the pod. I may need to rethink that, as I believe it’s trying to tell me something!

Best Album: The I Am Sam soundtrack. An entire album of really well done Beatles covers. I love it. I had a phase, from ages 9 to 13, where I was completely, totally and utterly obsessed with the Beatles.

Other weird shit in this Random Friday: Two albums make two appearances. That’s pretty impressive, considering we’re dealing with 4779 songs. The Mississippi Studios Live album is one from a recording studio where my sister (my lovely, talented sister) works. It’s a pretty neat assortment.

If you need more Random Friday than I can give you, check out some of the usual players:
Howard
Luna
Andrea
Ben
Josh
Mac
Ameena
Mark

Tonight, on the phone with my mom, we started talking about my sister. My mother had just commented about the fact that Raina is kind of dirty (dirt from the yard, crumbs in the car, used Q-tips in the bathroom dirty. What were you thinking I meant?). My mom continued with, “it really doesn’t matter if she’s dirty, though, because she has me.”

You see, for once in her life, my sister isn’t bucking the trends of her generation, and at the age of 23 (almost 24) is living with the parents. She is making no signs that she is considering moving on. When she first moved back, she said that it was just for three months. That was a year and a half ago.

I tried to explain to my mother why she may never leave. The list went something like this, “You clean, you cook, you do her laundry, you take care of her cat. You grocery shop, you repair holes in her clothes and you wash her sheets. You make her tea, you clean her water bottles and you let her take over the living room. Why on earth would she leave?”

My mother thought about it for awhile, and even over the phone, I could see the gleeful grin spread across her face. Then the mother said, “She pays for those services with her sanity, because you see, I have the joy and responsibility of making her a little crazy. When she’s out late, I call her cell phone to see if she’s okay. I yell after her as she leaves, telling her to drive safely. I tease her about sex and make her blush. See, she doesn’t have it as good as you think, because I still get to mother her, whether she likes it or not.”

I thought about it for a minute and had nothing. She was right. It seems to be a fair exchange of services.

Saturday night, I dreamt I met a man who was a French chef (he was actually a chef, from France, not just a chef of French food. Why I remember this distinction from the dream, I can not say). He was writing a cookbook and introduced me to his editor while we were standing in the foyer of his restaurant. After names were exchanged (although I don’t actually remember any names), I said to the editor, “I want to write a book about potlucks.” He flapped his hand at me dismissively, “Everyone wants to write a book.” Not at all defensively, but just to clarify I stated, “No, I’ve actually been working on it.” His facial expression changed, “When you have 100 pages, send it to me.” With that he walked out the door, and the left dream me excited and in a tizzy. Of course then I woke up. I guess I need to get cracking on that book, so that I can meet the French chef and get introduced to his editor.

*I know I promised a good story for today, but I’ve been fighting a cold and haven’t had the energy to tap my brain for anything creative. Instead of I’ve been reading Nora Roberts novels (formulaic, yet entertaining), solving Sudoku puzzles (I’m totally hooked) and talking to my mom on the phone. Tonight I called (for the fourth time today) just as the three of them were sitting down to dinner, and my sister yelled loud enough so that I could hear that it really was a family dinner, now that I was on the phone. I miss them.

I’m off, to nurse my cold. Wish me perfect health.

As I walked across campus today to pick up the mail, I called my mom to tell her how the mishap from yesterday resolved itself this morning around 11:30 am. There had been a moment, when I was sitting at my desk, my head in my hands, because it felt like there was nothing I could do to rectify the situation. Everyone I called verbally shrugged at me and hung up the phone. It didn’t matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t find a solution. At that moment, when I had done everything I could do, when I didn’t know what else to do, I gave up. Of course then the phone rang, and all the pieces fell into place and it was done.

I finished recounting the moment to her, stopped short and said, “Oh shit, there’s quite the lesson in that.” I’ve learned this one before, I’d really like to make it stick this time. It’s just that I have a really hard time letting go, trusting that no matter how much I want to make it work, sometimes I just can’t. Oh, the “I can’t.” We have such a love/hate relationship.

Just as I finished recounting my story of revelation, the doorbell rang on my mom’s end of the phone. It was a photographer, coming to the house to take pictures of my sister. Raina got back to Portland from her last tour just a couple of weeks ago, and is already planning the next one (she’ll be on the east coast in the early spring, don’t think I won’t be screaming it from the rooftops when I get more information) and these pictures are part of her promotion plan. My mom was mid-sentence when she broke off to say, “Whoa, sexy.” It seems Raina had come upstairs in a tight dress with a plunging neckline and very (VERY) big hair (but not in a Texas sort of way, more like a very blond Jew-fro). Evidently the plan was to roll around the on the bed in the dress and look sexy. I hear there was also some climbing out on the roof. My mom expressed concern that she couldn’t fit out the window, and Raina’s response was, “If the cat can do it, so can I.” Uh-huh, go on thinking that, Rainy. She also posed with just the guitar, no dress required. Those are going to be some interesting pictures.

That’s all the news for now, I’ve got a good story in the works for tomorrow.

I left work today feeling really cruddy. Something I had been responsible for at work did not go well. It isn’t exactly my fault, more a product of my ignorance about how certain processes work, I’m feeling crappy about it. I left my desk today feeling like I was a royal screw up, like there was nothing in the world that I could do right, and that it might just be the end of the world.

I’m still feeling a little tender when I think about it, but I’ve spent the evening trying to remind myself that I should never let something so little make me feel like such a complete failure. Is my self-esteem and confidence so fragile as to be threatened or shaken by a wayward box of branded lanyards? I don’t like to think that it is, but for some reason today, it almost was just that tenuous.

My boss was disappointed in how things worked out, and I’m prepared to be on the receiving end of a little more of her disappointment, but I’m trying to pull myself together and prepare to let it roll off of me when it comes my way tomorrow, as opposed to taking more of it in. At least I’m going to do my best at it.

I just went online to take a look at my blog (as I’m wont to do) and it isn’t there. I’m not exactly sure what’s going on, and I’m more than a little concerned. I’m posting this, to see if it won’t help me find my blog.

Friday night I got home from work tired, in a bit of a funk, and not really looking forward to the amount of out of the apartment time that I had scheduled for myself over the weekend. But there was absolutely no way to bow out of the weekend’s activities, because they were all scheduled in honor of Ingrid’s upcoming 30th birthday. I adore Ingrid, there was no chance in hell I was going to miss even a minute of a party celebrating her. Also, I knew that if I just got out of the house, and shook off the week a little, I would be able to settle into a fun time mood.

Ingrid and I have been friends for just over three years now. We met at the Unitarian church here in Philly a couple weeks after she moved here, from Texas. I’d been in the city for about 9 months, and while I had found friends, I hadn’t found a soulmate, until I met Ingrid. We started talking and within five minutes, we were friends. With some people, it takes stages to become close, but Ingrid and I went from strangers to dear friends in one pump of the heart.

Friday night we went to the Standard Tap in Northern Liberties and were joined by about fifteen people, although our crowd came and went a bit. After many rounds of drinks, much hilarity and the emptying of Ingrid’s purse by Lara (in pursuit of the perfect lipgloss), the remaining five of us headed for the Silk City Diner to gorge on delicious, empty, greasy calories. I think Lara won the price for most disgustingly wonderful order, she got wet (gravy) fries with a side of cheese. It would never occur to me to get both cheese and gravy, but Lara now has me convinced as to their combined (artery clogging) virtues. A very drunk Cindy got a cheesesteak, and there were multiple moments where the only sounds at the tables were her moans of pleasure on each bite. Those moans of delight were punctuated with Ingrid’s frequent comments about just how good her pancakes were. I got eggs (over easy, hold the wiggle), homefries and rye toast, which I had to perch on my water glass, because there was no more room at the inn. Una rounded us out with chocolate bread pudding. Oh, the gluttony!

Saturday was thriftstore tour, Reading Terminal lunch and shopping and sushi making at Cindy’s. My day got off to a rocky start, because when they brought my car down from the garage Saturday morning, it had been in an accident, without me. I live in a building with a valet garage, which to some my sound wonderful, but mostly it’s just a pain in the neck. You never know how long it will take to get your car, or in what condition it will come. There was a huge bang in the front, passenger side panel, over the wheel. I had to wait for 45 minutes to file a complaint, take pictures and start the process to get them to pay up to fix it. I felt a little stupid filing anything, because my almost 14 year old is already pretty dented, but at least with all the other wounds, I either inflicted them myself, or bought the car with them. I feel like I shouldn’t have to grin and bear the results of someone else’s distraction (at least not when I have avenues of recourse), when I live with enough of the results of my own.

Saturday afternoon I got over to Cindy’s around 4 pm, to make an apple crisp and start the sushi making process. I brought my own knives (I am a pain in the ass when it comes to cooking utensils, I like my knives sharp) and made a really terrific, lemony apple crisp, beautifully sliced cucumber for sushi and spicy sushi sauce (I am very versatile). Making sushi was really fun, although there were a couple of tense moments in the beginning, when the number of strong, take charge women in the kitchen were ready to grab those sharp kitchen knives of mine and kill each other (I admit it, I was one of them). Once we got over that, it was smooth sailing. The sushi was terrific and was coupled with the sense of accomplishment that comes with making it yourself. We played Celebrity, welcomed a couple more people to the party, sang Happy Birthday to Ingrid and had a great night.

This morning was brunch at Day by Day, followed by a trip to the Cherry Hill Mall to make our pilgrimage to Sephora. I hadn’t been in a mall in about six months, so it was a little shocking and yet totally familiar. I used my well-honed skills at picking out just the right lip color for both Una and Georgia. I bought mascara that makes my eyelashes so long that it is hard to wear my glasses after I apply it. Cindy bought Hope in a Jar and Jen did her Christmas shopping.

And that was the weekend. Ingrid’s birthday celebrations aren’t quite done yet, there is also a dinner on Wednesday that she is making for all of us, because that is the actual day on which she turns 30. Don’t ever say that we don’t do big birthdays right!

For pictures of the weekend (including my beautifully chopped cucumber from Saturday night) check out this Flickr set.

I forgot to post a Random Friday set last week, because it was the holiday weekend, and so Friday didn’t feel like Friday. But I’m back in my regularly scheduled groove, and so here there are, my random ten for the week.

1. Higher Ground , Iris Dement (Infamous Angel)
2. Heartache for Everyone, Indigo Girls (All That We Let In)
3. The Rhyme Intervention Featuring 4th Pyramid, C-Rayz Walz (Paste Magazine Sampler)
4. Sympathy for the Devil, Natalie Merchant (Jealousy Single)
5. Too Late to Cry, Allison Krauss (Too Late to Cry)
6. Deja Vu, Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young (Deja Vu)
7. Just Because (1956), Elvis Presley (The Sun Sessions)
8. Midnight Rider, The Allman Brothers (World Cafe, Volume 18)
9. Cedar Tree, Indigo Girls (Rites of Passage)
10. Got a Feeling, The Mamas and the Papas (If You Can Believe Your Eyes and Ears

Favorite Song: Got a Feeling. I had such a thing for the Mamas and the Papas during my late high school, early college years. I don’t know why exactly, but I found the stories behind the band so interesting and I loved their music. I think favorite story is the one where Cass has been wanting into the band, but her voice wasn’t fitting into the harmonies quite right. Then something, I don’t remember what it was, a microphone stand maybe, fell on her head, and all of the sudden she could hit the notes she needed. Come on, how can you not love someone who’s voice gets magically better after blunt head trauma.

Least Favorite: The Rhyme Intervention Featuring 4th Pyramid. Mostly because I’ve never really listened to it. An iPod purge is coming soon, this may be one to go.

Seen in Concert: The Indigo Girls, of course. They were actually my first real concert experience (well, except for the time when I was 12 that my dad took me to see Barbra Mandrell and Kenny Rogers because he knew the bass player in KR’s band and got free tickets. That was actually a pretty cool night, we got to go backstage and meet Kenny. I got an autographed tamborine). I’ve now seen the Girls a good four or five times. The best was a couple of years ago at Radio City Music Hall. I had never been there and it was pretty amazing.

Looking for more Random Fridays? Check out Howard, Luna, Ben, Andrea, Josh, Mac and Ameena.

Today is the birthday of the remarkable girl behind the blog, Strolling Luna. She is a lover all things sweet, is always willing to bake yummy items to sneak into blogger meetups and can wax poetic about both cheesecake and brussel sprouts. She enthusiastically dresses up for Halloween. She claims not to be superstitious, but doesn’t like to sit at the corner of the table, just in case it might harm her chances of finding love. She is warm, generous and friendly, and I’m so happy to count her among my friends.

Go on over and wish her a happy birthday.

Sometimes I have to believe that the woman who stops me on the street and asks for $.85 or a bus token is really going to use the dollar I just gave her to get home. I can’t always refuse, to turn down what seem to be heartfelt requests for help. I like to think that my internal gauge leads me in the correct direction, allowing me to supply little bits of aid where they are needed. But I also know that my intuitive reaction to help or keep walking may not always be right, and that the seemingly honest-eyed woman who just walked away with my dollar could now have enough to make up the price of a bottle or a baggie, which will take her into another world.

But I can’t always say no, and so yesterday I said yes, and gave away a dollar. It seemed like a cheap price for a little hope.