I broke my ankle hiking a month ago, but it feels like years have passed since I was able to move around with ease and run and jump without fear of breaking something. Has it only been a month? Limited mobility is a drag I wouldn't wish on anyone. OK, the Scotch has taken the edge off a little bit already, so this rant isn't going to be as animated as it would have been had I been writing twenty minutes ago from the parking lot that was 10th St. Allow me to explain. It snowed

This month is one long, unbroken chain of rehearsals and work and more rehearsals and concerts and other concerts and do not think I'm complaining because I am definitely not because I get to play glorious music all day long and for some reason I'm being paid to do it, so I rush from one event to the next subsisting on naught but water and KIND bars (the most effective diet is the one where you literally do not have time to eat real meals) but there's a spring in my step and

I'm back. After a two-month hiatus from this silly writing outlet in my little corner of the Internet, a time during which I experienced an unpleasant and frantic amount of elation, rejection, self-doubt, panic, hope, frustration, resignation, exhaustion, television, and carbs, I am now pleased to report that I have emerged on the other side, relatively unscathed and with renewed spirit*. April's busy schedule now safely in my rearview, I went home for a couple days this week