Recall, for a moment, the most foreign Asian-sounding music you can imagine... unrecognizable rhythms and chord progressions... the kind where you just don't think that music is REALLY an international language at all... that makes you feel a little ignorant when you wonder "Is this it, or are they just warming up?"

Ok. Now put it together with everything that you know about the sound of another person learning to play any bowed intstrument... and then put it on a subway platform. I was ASTOUNDED that so many tired Bostonians were so patient with something so irritating. This Asian man was sitting on a special cushion with an empty tissue box beside him for donations and just wailing away on the thing, staring into space, his cheeks reddening occasionally... from exertion, perhaps? From embarrassment? The oppressive underground heat and humidity? After at least 15 minutes the teenage next to me moaned quietly "Oh my god." and took off his coat.

When one puts off blogging...

One is stumped to find something worthwhile enough to say that makes it ok that you haven't written. .. this is a vicious cycle, as we all know.

In my silence, I've found a job (at a wonderful childcare) and we've found an apartment (that I feel great about) and I've found myself very happy to have moved.  I no longer feel confused that I might be still on vacation, and things are comfortable and easy here.

Next time I write, I ASSURE you, it'll be clever and fascinating and sooner than an entire month.

Oh, and thank you to those who encouraged me to blog again.