I'm baaaaaack!

Get ready, buns, because I'm back to blogging!

I did try to check in, but it just wasn't gonna happen the way I wanted to. Of course now that I'm itching to resume my blogging rhythm, I've lost my camera's USB cord and can't upload my recent photos. Obligatory recap will have to suffice.

It was a grueling past few weeks, as you already know. While I'm glad that the days of 4 am wake ups (only to be in bed by 2 am the next day) are no more... I think the frenzy isn't going to leave my body easily. I had been used to a wacky schedule before shooting started, but my body has become addicted to this internal clock. It's a bit past midnight right now, and after all I've wanted the past few days has been to sleep and only to sleep, all I can think of doing is blogging, reading, shouting, sharing, expressing, eating this chocolate that my temp French roomie left behind, listen to new music...

I met so many amazing people on this project, really special people that I hope to see and work with in the future. I didn't realize how much of an impact everyone would have on me, but I grew close to many of them and very fast. I met all sorts of fascinating new friends from all over. Crabby people. Cheerful people. Inspirational, insanely talented people from our crew to the consultants to the Brooklyn Parkinson Group to the bow makers to local dancers. Brilliant musicians who helped me find a new form of music to fall in love with. I discovered new favorites like honey pretzel sticks from Trader Joes and the gentlemen from Brooklyn Rider, who I absolutely cannot wait to see at Alice Tully on March 9. I tapped into a very special world, and the context in which I did so couldn't be more appropriate. In a year where I've examined, wrestled with and redefined what relationship means to me, it was a most appropriate lens to explore some of the deepest, most beautiful sounds I've ever heard.

I learned 6:50 am is not so bad... even when it's the time you're coming home.

I learned that this isn't how you hold a cello bow...

This is:

And I learned to hang in there!

Green and Purple Green and Purple Green and Purple Green and Purple

Here I am at Blue Stove blogging about green and purple... Had a delightful "day off" discussing Scientology with DT and prancing around Chelsea while taking breaks every 5 minutes to do work over the phone. I read, in this article posted by the brilliant Miss Whiss that Jennifer Lawrence orders the eggs Benedict without looking at the menu. For some reason when I first read this, in my head, I imagined this person orders the eggs Benedict at every restaurant she goes to as a test or experiment or something so I decided today I would order French toast at every restaurant for more convenient and adventurous brunching experiences.

I just reskimmed the article though, and I think it was just during this particular interview that she ordered the eggs Benedict- that's it. All in all, who cares... I just really like French toast and think it'll make ordering breakfast much easier if I embark on a search for the best French toast makers in the city. This idea will probably expire in about a week FYI. The breakfast place underneath the Maritime Hotel has this fantastic one with blackberries and pecans on top of a raisin French toast served with some vanilla marscapone and powdered sugar.

Also posting a beautiful purse I want, a Snickero pic and a non green or purple, yet fascinating violin case with a leopard interior. Greenandpurplegreenandpurplegreenandpurplegreenandpurple.

Brrrrrrrrr

I went to a horse farm on the coldest day ever known.

A New Haven

Ost Cafe was such a breath of fresh air last week. I zipped around New York City trying to find a place to settle down, preferably with Internet and caffeine. Lo and behold... I spent a lot of time here.

Mejor Tarde Que Nunca

This was the most magical day my lemur eyes have seen in recent memory. I was staying in the West Village to be closer to our shooting locations last week and during my walk to work, I thought to myself that I couldn't remember a more beautiful morning. The closer I arrived, the brighter the sun shone... While crossing 7th St. on the north side of Tompkins Square Park, I raced against the snowy branches that were dropping clumps of icy snow behind me action movie style. Coupled with a cappuccino from Ost - it was all bliss!

Casals at Santiago de Compostela

Yet another sign pointing me toward Compostela.

Eighteen months went by, and Pablo, now seventeen years old, was fully formed as a virtuoso cellist. In the fall of 1894 he played some concerts in the provinces with a chamber ensemble. In Santiago de Compostela, one review praised to the moon "a violoncellist of such extraordinary merit that, hearing him play, one wants to examine his instrument to see if there exists inside some nest of spirits entrusted with producing such outpouring of art."

(Siblin 40, The Cello Suites)

Google searching more about Casals in Santiago de Compostela directed me to a discovery of Manuel Quiroga Losada (same first name and initials as my father!), Casals' contemporary, violinist, composer and artist.