Post-Thanksgiving Brunch for Two:

Potato Pancakes with Hot Sauce Gravy


2 1/2 - 3 cups leftover mashed potatoes
2 eggs
salt to taste
dash chili powder
butter or non-hydrogenated margarine

For the gravy:

1 cup leftover gravy
dash hot sauce

Heat a stainless steel or cast-iron skillet over medium heat. Season the potatoes to taste with the salt and the chili powder. Mix in the eggs. Drop the mixture by spoonfuls into the preheated skillet. You will need to flip the pancakes several times, starting when the bottoms start to hold together. Flip and reshape until you have nicely golden brown cohesive pancakes. Remove to a plate. Warm the gravy however you choose and throw in a dash of hot sauce.

Makes about 8 crispy, delicious pancakes, with enough gravy left over to secretly guzzle.

Thankful.

I am thankful for:


my beautiful home

my amazing daughter

being a teacher

my piano, my guitars

my giving mom

the blessing of my immediate and extended family

delicious and nourishing food to eat

my professional successes

my incredible support network

kisses and hugs


N. is thankful for:


princesses

my momma

my nan

my dada


happy Thanksgiving, everyone...

LOVE that top.

I love the appeal to ignorance! Now that's hot. Like the air in the Shenzhen sweatshop that cute top came from.

There are quite a many known nasty facts about high-fructose corn syrup, but the main reason I avoid it is because it is a hallmark of foods that have been processed to within an inch of the definition of "food." Picture the little pulverized "whole-grain" cereal puffs, rolling down the factory belt, getting sprayed with flavor coating, tumbling in the blast dryer...

My Acceptance Speech

Radar Online has a Mad Libs game where you can make your own acceptance speech for your party's presidential nomination.

Here's mine.

My Darling Babies, it is with profound humility and great mild appreciation that I accept your nomination for the presidency of the United States. [Pause for applause.]

Growing up as a young boy in Greenwich Village, where I spent my days studying boxing so that I could one day go to college, and my nights doing needlepoint so that I could put some food on the table for my 5 brothers and sisters, I never thought I'd be standing here today. I never thought I'd be standing here after facing no toilet paper in the Upper East Side while serving my country as a proud member of the Chess Club, or when standing up against delayed mail while a United States senator, either. But my fellow Americans, I am standing before you today, and for that, I am eternally grateful. [Pause for applause.]

I didn't get here alone, of course. Far from it. Where would I be without my beautiful wife, Chicken Head, who is the smartest person I know? Or my 6 lovely daughters? You mean the world to me. I'm so proud of you.

But tonight isn't about what I've accomplished in the past. It's about what we're going to accomplish going forward. Together. You see, we stand here today at a crossroads. The issues we face—an iffy war abroad, a flabby economy at home, and an uphill battle against sustainable bamboo harvesting—aren't Yellow or Red issues. They're America's issues. Dealing with them is going to take a united front.

It's also going to take hard work. Being willing to answer the phone at 3 a.m. Dedication to the task at hand. Which is why, my fellow Americans, I've enlisted the help of the wonderful, talented, Governor Binky Townhouse to be my vice president—your vice president—to help get this country back on track. Her years of legislative experience, willingness to confront the complacent Washington elite head on, and an upstanding reputation for being a damn fool are of vital importance to this ticket. I could not be happier.

America, we still have a lot of work to do, but I'm confident that we'll make it through these turbulent times and turn back the Screamies. God bless! And God save America.

Bedtime for Momma.

I have 62 great ideas for intelligent essays about parenting and early childhood development and politics and other stuff too, and not one iota of energy with which to string the words together.

One of them is going to be about how I really hate it when random strangers in the grocery store tell my daughter she is beautiful, "just like a little doll!"

One of them is going to be about how to praise people's work, no matter what age they are.

One of them is going to be a how-to about moving overseas, possibly set to music. ("Hello...Scandinavia! Your healthcare sure is keen!" (jazz hands)).

This post is going to be about how it's the beginning of the first full week of teaching and I'm already tired, but my record is live on amazon.com. You can listen to some tracks for free on each of my websites, and you can preview little snippets, and of course buy songs, by clicking on that big ol' picture.



"Amalfi" is my favorite song, if you're only going to buy one.

That is all.

How I Spent My Summer Vacation

Since I have just noticed that it now gets dark before N.'s bedtime (which makes things much easier), I thought now would be a good time to do some kind of Summer Wrap-Up. As all three of you may remember, at the begininng of this summer I was feeling "plateau-y;" for the less erudite reader, that implies a blockage of creativity. Thankfully, I got over it. And so, without futher wordbutchery, I offer you Our Concrete Accomplishments of Summer '08:

1. We turned this garden

into these (and other) tasty vegetables:

2. We turned this

and this:


into this record, which will be out in a minute, but forget I told you, because I'm not doing any advance:

3. We made this dress for Giselle. And a matching one for N., who makes me wear the dress I wore to my mom's wedding (also purple) and dance around with her - this is called "Going to the Ball."


Sheesh. What else did we do? Made lots of pizzas,


went on the boat ride I vowed to go on when we moved here (and LOVED it),

went to like thirty-two beaches and playgrounds, and made next to no progress on the quilt. Ah well. Anycomplishment, this was one of the best summers ever. Seriously. Outranking several awesome summers I remember from my own childhood. Sigh. Thank you, summer. Love you.

Briefly

At this very moment, I am making the possibly terrible mistake of eating jalapeno-cheddar ramen noodles that I bought because they were steeply discounted.

I couldn't resist.

Previously, the weirdest flavor of ramen noodles that I had eaten was "shrimp," during the blizzard of '96.

This is also the first time I have eaten ramen noodles in about four years.

In case the internet wanted to know.

Back to the Future, part a billion.

I re-re-discovered a letter I wrote to myself in 1999, that I wasn't supposed to open until August of next year, but have periodically anyway. I really needed to find it again, too.



I bought N.'s lunchbox today.

I Love You, Johnny Kelly

Oh, Hooray for This!

Sometimes things on YouTube inexplicably fill me with joy. Like this:

Chugga Chugga.

Oh, I think I can. I think I can. I think I can! I think I can! Eat a jar of mayonnaise. Oh, wait.

No. I think I can...buy a single pair of doll shoes off the internet to match the outfit we've been working on all summer.



For 75 cents (plus $6.50 shipping), you can too. Now, we can hold the doll with the dress and the shoes while we wear the matching dress that momma made us while we're watching the climactic ballroom scene from the movie that we love with rapt attention for the 87 gazillionth time. Woe betide interrupters. Seriously, woe.

What else? I think I can finish this @#$@ record before school starts. I have one song left to torture. I mean torture. I mean, produce. For a change of pace today I started working on the cover art.


That may or may not have anything to do with what it ends up looking like.


I think I can...make delicious rotisserie chicken tacos with fresh tomato corn salsa. Excellent 10 minute dinner, AND, the non-trans-fat taco shells were on closeout for $1.49. Of course, the chicken cost $100. N. said to me, just to clarify, "Chicken the food, momma. Not a chicken animal." She calls the skin "peel." I'm leaving that one alone for now.

Ok, ok. I think I can eat a tub of chive cream cheese. I mean eat a tub of - I mean, get back to work.

A Woman of Independent Means

Well, sort of. I was extremely proud of myself this week, as I had a rash (ew!) of minor misfortunes that I dealt with All By Myself, like the Strong Single Mother that I am, um, emulating.

Firstly, I got a nasty clot of paperwork in the mail from my life insurance company, informing me that my policy had lapsed. Hillariously, two weeks before that, I had called to pay the bill over the phone, and secured the promise of the lady to call me if the transaction didn't go through. Which, of course, she did not do, however, thankfully I had written down her name and the date. Take THAT! Tropical Storm Edouard. Which had apparently hit the policy services department the previous day. Sigh.

Anysurance, it only took about 4 hours of calling, pleading, repeatedly getting disconnected and mashing buttons on the keypad of my phone to sort that one out.

THEN, my microphone broke, RIGHT in the middle of recording a track for the release I am planning for next week, so I cried about it to my mother, and she gave me $40.

THEN, I got a flat tire! My first ever (awwww). Thankfully, I was in the parking garage where I pay by the month for work, and I know the guy. He had a very neat little pump that you plug right into the lighter, and it pumps the tire up quickly, and incredibly loudly. We drove to the gas station and it was holding, so we came all the way home. This morning it was about half flat, so we drove to the gas station down the street and spent the $40 on a patch and a half-tank of gas. Ah, well.

THEN, the garbage men didn't take my garbage! What the heck?! They took my recycling, and left my trash can neatly where it was on the curb. I looked up the solid waste department of my town on the internet, and found that if they have done this for a reason, they will leave an orange sticker on your trash. No sticker. Total mystery. So today, I called the dump, and inquired as to their policies, and the lady said just bring my drivers' license. Of course, when I got there, the, hmm, procedurally oriented gentleman at the window asked for my town pass, but again - I had gotten the woman's name on the phone. "Heather said my drivers' license would be fine!" And so it was. Except that I had worn crocs. Eww.

Yeeps. I am a little edgy and knocking on wood all over the place, because I really want this record release to be, uh, divinely perfect. Perhaps I should manage my expectations. Perhaps I should make another backup disc.

;)

Where have you been?

...you ask?

Why, here, of course.

;)

I promise a real post either later or tomorrow.

I have a CD of pictures from the past 2 days in the car, but I'm slightly concerned about going out to get it, as the neighbors saw a coyote in their driveway last week.

Still.

In the meantime, I am so down to do this!

Oh, whither, internets.

MyHeritage: Family tree - Genealogy - Celebrity

God Bless YouTube.

We did lots of strenuous things today, and I am too tired to blog about them. Instead, I offer you this jewel of the internet. Enjoy it in good health.

P.S. - Don't touch that! It's not the stereo.

what IS this blog about?

I'm sure I don't know. Thus follows a series of photos, related only in that they were all taken by me, recently.


I got a free phone, in a shameless attempt by AT&T to trick us into signing another two-year contract. Which we, uh, did. So I crocheted my new phone a phat cozy. Yes, phat!

Then the little lady wanted one.

That phone came with her play kitchen. I adore it. ("2 Calls Today!")

**Non-existent Segueway**

For the first time, this week, I mustered up the courage to buy a can of chipotle peppers in adobo sauce. This is after years of wistfully musing in the Goya section, picking up the can, quietly admitting, "not today," and putting it back next to the mango nectar.

So far I have made several chipotle-flavored dips, chipotle pizza, and the pasta salad featured above. A warning - given the fairly bland nature of most commercial "chipotle" sauces (good evening, Subway), I totally did not expect actual chipotle peppers to be that spicy. In fact, I was mistaken. They are not vindaloo-spicy, or even San-Loco-suicide-standing-on-the-corner-of-2nd-avenue-pouring-
a-quart-of-milk-from-the-deli-into-your-face spicy, but they do pack quite a zing.

What else could I blog about, you ask? Why, this tomato, of course.
It was our first. It took superhuman effort for N. not to eat it for the length of time it took me to take the picture. I am very proud.

First Fruits

Well, not completely - we have been grazing on the occasional peapod. But the first serious Product of Our Garden was picked today. We turned that cucumber and those basils into these delicious:

Princess Tea Sandwiches.

1 small cucumber
several leaves fresh basil
cream cheese
four slices whole-wheat ciabatta
sprinkle curry powder
salt to taste.

Oh indeed, summer. Well played.

Hee hee hee.

This is very sweet and funny. Takes a minute to warm up, but then it's giggles all the way...

The Frugal Stylist

So, the kid has been after one of these for months:

Her best friend has one, and it is apparently a constant source of torture to her. Alas, they are running $40-50 on the ol' ebay (NMIB!! VERY RARE!!) So today, we went to W*m**t, bought $2 worth of purple "satin" and some $1.79 silver chain ribbon, and made this:


with the indispensable help of my very crafty mother - she made the pattern and did all the tailor-y preparation stuff, and I hemmed all the edges and sewed on the silver trim. We also had to give Giselle a little trim, because the hair on the other doll is shorter, um, cleaner, and not ratty and full of debris from being dragged around everywhere. Yeah.

So. Success - I feared a meltdown due to some missed detail or other, but it was more than acceptable to the client. I guess I'll carve the prince out of soap.

Variety Pack One

1. I filled a four-hour gig all by myself tonight, which surprised me. I reached all the way into the bottom of my song-bag, however, and eventually had to sing "Brown-Eyed Girl" in desperation. I also sang stuff by Taj Mahal and Duke Ellington though, so that's ok. Possibly. And of course, lots of songs by ME (now available at a digital retailer near you. "Ever get sick of my relentless plugging? Sure, we all do...")

2. I transplanted two tomato plants today, and am really hoping they don't die. My quilt progress is somewhat stalled. I need to do laundry, and other domestic news items.

3. Yesterday's Dialogue Between Me and My Child:

Child: Momma?

Me: Hmm?

Child: Momma?

Me: Yeah?

Child: Momma, could we get a time machine?

Me: What would you want to use it for?

Child: To make time go back and forth.

Me: We'll have to see.

Update: ARGH, TOO CUTE!

My child just grabbed my face, kissed both cheeks, and said:

"I'm European, and you're MY-OPEAN!"

How to Make a Something Something

I am piecing together various Terribly Significant scraps of fabric that have been bouncing around my life for the past several years into a...lazy-person's quilt? I don't know what you would call it. I'm not actually making little quilt squares, just using big whole squares of cloth. And a couple of quilt squares, but very lazy ones. And maybe some applique stuff later.

Anyquilt, there are scraps from when we made N.'s snowsuit, tablecloths from our wedding, pieces of the soft bed-railing we made and slept on for two years (that was the background of my album cover)...flannel that was going be boxers for D., but we split up before I finished them, so I made it into pillows for school...

I need to start and finish a large, physically realized creative project to give myself a concrete sense of progress, because I am feeling a little plateau-y at the moment. Which is, of course, better than a screaming zero-g dive; nevertheless.

What else, you ask? Well. I'm trying to make a solo guitar record in my spare time. Yale hired me to play on a street corner on Friday, and it poured rain for part of it, so they tucked me into a neat little bookstore and asked me to play quietly. So I went through a bunch of my instrumental noodles that have developed themselves into songs-ish, and they were well received. By a cute guy. Who came up and spoke to me after, but alas, didn't give his name. So. Solo guitar record. Hoping for many startlingly lucrative licensing opps.

In other news, it is so DAMP in my house I could PLOTZ. Now, if you'll excuse me, I am urgently needed in my capacity as a Polly Pocket shoe-positioner.

Seriously -

This is the tremendous. Just breathtaking, especially the end. It's the work of the Japanese artists collective Rinpa Eshidhan.

little nudges

My dad's best friend from high school was named Kevin, and he was an excellent musician - the kind of person who would get a three part harmony going with you, him, and an outboard motor. Although he didn't play music for a living, I think he really would have loved to be able to. We used to play together all the time, just sit around with acoustics and sing Neil Young songs until it got dark. He died almost ten years ago, and I was very sad, and I missed him a great deal.

Thankfully, his ghost keeps track of me, via: two songs I hear on the radio when I need them ("Old Man" and "Ain't No Sunshine," in case you were wondering); dreams I have from time to time; a spooky recording of him singing with my mom and dad turning up just when I was getting started in New York, you know, etc. My brother and I went to record at my uncle's studio yesterday, and I looked up and saw this:


Kevin's is the middle signature - my uncle likes to have people sign the walls when they come to record.

Whenever I need a little boost; a little encouragement not to give up on my biggest music dreams; whenever I think, "Oh, I'll just start my own popsicle company instead" - Kevin gently smacks me from beyond the grave.

Pizzas we have loved...

"The Puttanesca"

As the title suggests, these are some pizzas we have eaten and loved recently...

"The midnight"

The secrets are: use the tiniest amount of very good sauce possible; make sure your oven is really hot (500 F); use many different toppings but not too large a quantity of any one; use a little less cheese than you think you should. Make sure your crust has a little edge, or the cheese will run off the sides of the pizza and burn up on the pan.

In other news, both versions of the song you heard here the other day are now available for download. One third of the proceeds will be donated to Mercy Corps, a really well organized and effective charity. If the little song widget in the upper right of the blog isn't working, you can download the songs over here.

It's Not Really a Dichotomy.

This morning, we weeded our lovely little garden plot.


Then we walked into town, had chicken salad sandwiches, and whiled away the hottest hours of the day at the childrens' library, populating and destroying building-block towns.

This afternoon, I uploaded this broken stereo remix of the trading nothing song:

Anglo American Blues - BrokenS by Sarah LeMieux and Peter Adamso

Fandalism Free MP3 Hosting

Now we're going to the grocery store to buy garbage bags and flour. It's more of a continuum, really.

Fruit of the interwebs.

So, if this lil' java app works, here's the song (you remember, I wanted the painting that the guy who was trading nothing was trying to trade, so I wrote an instrumental and whipped it overseas to the guy who wrote the words and sang the vocal and so on...)

I believe we will be attempting to sell downloads at some point. Check your pockets.

In any case. "The Anglo-American and World Recession Blues," music, all instrumentation, production and backing vocals by yours truly; lyrics, lead vocal and melody by Peter Adamson of England. Licensing inquiries welcome. Composition registered with ASCAP, June 2008.

The Anglo American and World R by Sarah LeMieux and Peter Adamso

Fandalism Free MP3 Hosting

Beach Week

Wednesday and Thursday of this past week (before I remembered that my family was renting a beach house in the town I grew up in for Friday, Saturday and Sunday) we spent all day at the beach in our town. It's almost eerily idyllic - all healthy, pleasant children racing after fat puppies; silver-haired ladies gracefully doing the breaststroke; middle-aged men laughing heartily in canoes. My town is like a postcard for a turn of the century (19th, not this last one) family resort. But not ritzy and irritating - just the barest whiff of Sag Harbor, not even. We don't even have a bar and grill. Just two delis, a playground, a beach, four art galleries and the library.

Anyways. Friday and Saturday we went down to the town I grew up in - another weathered, Connecticut beach town, although this one has been ruined by fanciness and commuters and the humongous Victoria's Secret display on the corner. My mother's whole family was there - her six brothers, plus their wives, girlfriends and children. A wonderful, vibrant, casual, funny, mildly tipsy collection of excellent people. My little lady had a total blast playing with all her cousins, especially the big girls. And I got some nice mental space and adult socializing time, thank God. I also got to revisit the scene of my youth, which brings up a nice melange of contrasting feelings.

The recital I was telling you about...

I really enjoyed doing this with Noah. He wrote the song, and worked out the arrangement in garageband, and then asked me to accompany him on it for his senior voice recital. During the rest of which I was totally holding back the tears - Noah managed to choose all excellent songs from shows I did in my misspent youth (Godspell, I'm talking about you) and performed them with great skill and feeling. Thankfully he had the foresight to bring boxes of tissues, which he distributed about midway through.

I also really enjoyed the hummus, five kinds of fancy cheese, chocolate cake, crudites, Prosecco, cheesecake, rugelach and coffee that they had at the reception following :)

Metapizza.

Yesterday we had an absolute jewel of a summer vacation day.

We spent the entire morning at the beach in our town, which is absolutely gorgeous, not taking any pictures (of course). There are granite steps leading down from the seawall into the water, a la Venice, which I find very unsettling for some deep-seated psychological reason. Of course the little one loved them and we sat on them for about 20 minutes with our feet in the water. Then some local baby hooligans came running up like fury and threw themselves off the seawall like lemmings. Ah, youth.

After that we made this castle:
And then we turned this dough (from this recipe):

Into this pizza.
While reading this book:

Oh yes, indeed.

Hopefully today when dad comes for his visit I can little red hen it and finish the six career things I have flying around in the air like racquetballs.

So, this is a problem

My friend Julia forwarded this to me this morning.

Decathaday.

This is a post I wrote last Thursday and never had time to publish...


Morning:

Woke up, had yogurt, gardened. Ate the first sweet, crunchy, fresh peas from our garden. Laundry folded, baths taken, domesticity everywhere.

Afternoon:

Very [challenging, rewarding, professionally satisfying, neat] recording session with this guy, who works with my friend and is really quite good -

Afternoon (2):

Out the window, I notice uniformed men randomly spraying chemicals on my spinach and cilantro. I say, "hey, not the garden!" and etc., and find out it's herbicides and pesticides. They say if the cilantro isn't dead by tomorrow, it's still safe to eat, and they'll watch out for the rest of our food. I call my landlord. I say, "heads up next time, please?" and etc.

Afternoon (3):

We continue our recording sess-

Afternoon (4):

I slather the little lady with sunscreen and send her out for her visit with Dad, bearing extra clothes, sand toys, three specific dolls and a pocket full of kisses.

Afternoon (5):

-ion.

I am really looking forward to hearing how it turned out. And cashing the check. But mostly the music part, of course. Of course.

Afternoon (6):

The little lady and her dad return, loudly. We decide to call the session.

Evening:

I drive the little lady to see her Dad play country blues at a Mexican restaurant. I idly wonder if the tomatoes on our nachos are riddled with salmonella.

Evening (2):

I return seven phone calls. We go and spend a gift card at the drugstore. Woozy, I buy some almonds and a vitamin water and some kind of women's magazine to revive myself.

Evening (3): In progress. The little lady is doing some kind of water experiment in the bathroom while I blog.

Perhaps I should go investigate that.

Update: She was washing her tummy.

:)

Communication

My Darling Child: "Momma? Where did you get the soft, golden toilet paper?"

Me: ::thinking?::

MDC: "When you made me?"

Me: ::?::

MDC (thinks, "my poor, foolish mother"): "Where did you get the soft gol-den toi-let pa-per that you made me from?"

Me: ::lightbulb:: "Tissue. Your body has soft tissues. Not like toilet paper. Like skin."

MDC: ::?::

On Task

If I had photoshop for my current OS (oh, frabjous day!) I'd probably get even less songwriting done.

Text only.

Sorry. I usually like to dress up my posts with some zazzy pictures or video, but I got nothin'.

I drove about 5 hours round trip last night and got really entertainingly lost in Boston for probably about a half an hour - I saw Fenway! And I was like, "hey, Fenway! Crap! Fenway!" - and then I played about 20 minutes worth of music at the fairly subdued gala fundraiser for the Art Monastery.

Worth noting:

I wore my prom dress, which I bought in 1997, which looks better on me now, HA!

The Boston police give very good directions and were extremely courteous, and called me ma'am (possibly something to do with the prom dress).

Serious hors' d'oeuvres - marinated olives and goat cheese, asparagus and prosciutto, fancy things on skewers, m&m's in a dish...

Also, due to a strange convergence of life elements (my best friend from high school and her mother, my musician selfhood, the unfamiliarity of Boston, hors' d'oeuvres) I got the shaky-hands, sweaty-brow, paranoid stage fear for the first two or three minutes of my set. On the one hand, unpleasant; unusual for me - and on the other hand, pleasantly personal-growth inducing. I talked myself through it and played well in spite of it, or possibly because of it. Ever since I hid in the bathroom when it was my turn for karaoke the summer I was ten, it has been my mission in life to kick the jitters.

In other news, it was the last day of school today, and my last day being my kid's teacher (for the forseeable academic future, anyway). My feelings, in a nutshell: "Whew! Awww. Sheesh. Euuuoo. Whew! Hmmm...awww. Sigh, sniff. Whew!"

Still processing, really. Time has been passing awfully quickly lately.

Montastic!

photo courtesy the art monastery

Even though it is suddenly the last week of school before summer break, and even though tomorrow is actually the second to last day of school, and the second to last continuous day of one of the more intensive years of effort in my life, I'm driving 5 round-trip hours to Boston to sing 15 minutes worth of music at a fundraiser for this art monastery.

I'm hoping that as a result of the quantum inseparability principle, this will result in:

a) me and the child being generally showered with blessings (although actually, we really are. Awww. ) and/or

b) us getting to spend some lovely organic time eating delicious Italian things and lying down in hammocks in Umbria.

I'm gonna try and snag some video. I'm also gonna try and cram myself into a fancy dress. Get the crowbar.

Random red fizz

I don't recall submitting to this, but I'm featured on the front page of Red Fizz today. Some of the comments are nice, some are slightly...NSFW...still, overall, I'm getting good ratings.

Imagine.

So, I don't know if you knew this,

...but I've become involved with a fiendish plot to, um, get a lovely painting. And promote myself. I traded Andrew Henderson a song for the painting you see me snuggling above (it's now hanging on my bedroom wall). It's called "Lotus," by UK artist Evelyn Kharag, and the moment I saw its blurry, pixellated likeness on tradingnothing.com, I knew I had to have it. Because I like lotuses. Loti. Lotusi? Those flowers.

In any case, it is just breathtaking in real life, and completes my bedroom wall like Renee Zellwiger in Jerry Maguire. Andrew has now traded my instrumental blues track to the man on the left (Andrew is, deductively, the man on the right), in exchange for fancy rock memorabilia.


Peter (on the left) is going to sing on the track and send it back to me to mix in and fancy up. Behold the power of Web 2.whatever-it-is-now. Of course, I will let you all know how it goes down.

hello, stranger.

Well, internets, I'm back. I know you've desperately missed my content, what with the dire shortage of moderately funny creative part time working-mom bloggers. Oh. Well, anyway, I've missed you...

What's that? You don't even remember me? Sheesh. Ok, let me refresh you:

I'm Sarah. I'm a single mother to a three-year-old dervish - uh, daughter; a musician (blues and jazz), singer and songwriter (lots); a teacher (guitar and pre-school, not both at once) and general nerd hobbyist and artist/entrepeneuse. So, ah, this blog will be about that all. Yeah.

The title? The whole saying, in French, is "La vie est belle, et elle commence demain," meaning, "life is beautiful, and it starts tomorrow." I left out the end, because who's waiting till tomorrow? Certainly not me.

Ok, then. Nice seeing you again. Love your whole improved-media-functionality-and-networking vibe, it's really - oh, ok. Bye.

(::skulking away:: Man, Sarah, you really blew that one. What's up with the tone? Who are you trying to sound like, Dooce?)