Stacy Horn

This morning, I read this article about Syria. Pretty much one of the most hopeless articles I’ve read in some time. What can I do? What can be done? (Not a rhetorical question, I’m open to suggestions.)

I had much more fun yesterday, following the story of Amy’s Baking Company. By the end of the day they claimed that they’d been hacked. Given that for years they’ve been responding in this way to criticism, that’s a little hard to swallow. An article from 2010, describes similar meltdowns when they received bad reviews on Yelp. You can go back and read what they wrote at the time and make up your own mind.

Meanwhile, just how big is Bleeck? I’m used to 20+ pound cats, so when someone recently told me he was big, I was flummoxed. I just weighed him. 11.9. Come on, that’s teeny, right?

I can’t take it. I love this show. Quit torturing us and give it another shot. It makes me happy, damnit. How many shows make me happy without boring me? Actually, I wonder how many. There’s Bones, Warehouse 13, So You Think You Can Dance, thinking … The Mindy Project! I was very “eh” at first but now I ADORE that show. Going on … New Girl, Project Runway.

Okay, there’s a lot of shows, but nothing like Bunheads. Bunheads gets me. It completes me. I’m grasping at straws here because I can’t put my finger on why I feel so strongly. There’s that Gilmore Girls/Northern Exposure magic, the smart dialogue, incredible and real dancing, hope. I love the mostly all-girl cast which ranges in age from the students to the ever-amazing Kelly Bishop. Kelly Bishop is my grow-older hero, by the way. I love Betty White, but it always feels like she’s doing shtick. Which is great, but that’s not me. I hope to follow the always sharp, smart, adult, dignified, imperious Kelly Bishop path. Oh WOW. Here is Kelly Bishop playing Sheila on A Chorus Line!!

But I love the girls, I love Sutton Foster. I love Bunheads. It’s sweet without being sugary, it’s light but dark, it’s enchanting and endearing, and I NEED IT. Gods of the tv universe, I’m begging you, throw me a bone. Renew Bunheads.

A couple of dances from the show: Istanbul and Paper or Plastic.

I took this in Union Square last weekend. There was a parade that I’d missed. The woman on the left was one of the people in the parade.

A singer and an astronaut! Where did he come from?? (Canada.) He is an international treasure!! His voice is beautiful. And here’s a link of him singing, while in space, with a bunch of children … sweet Jesus, none of the children were given space suits. For the love of god, they’re … someone save them!! (Kidding.)

Seriously, music and science, the best combination there is. Canada, I apologize in advance. Because we have to steal him.

An old friend of mine has co-written a book, The Big Divide: A Travel Guide to Historic and Civil War Sites in the Missouri-Kansas Border Region. According to their Amazon page, inside they cover “the African-American soldiers who were the first to die for their freedom (months before the 54th Massachusetts of Glory fame took up arms) and “how the Civil War shaped future outlaw Jesse James—and future president Harry Truman.”

Here they are, on public radio, to tell you about it themselves!

Actually, I’m mostly sad because I’m leaving for a wake soon. But I wanted to mention that after our concert last night, I passed by a sign on my way out of the church. It was a picture of Greg Niclas, a member of the choir who died on Christmas morning last year. I should have taken a picture, (I have no short term memory anymore, it seems) I just remember that along with his Greg’s handsome, smiling face were words that said something nice.

Greg’s family continues to blow my mind. Here they are, they’ve lost Greg, but while they grieve they also donated to our choir and encouraged others to do so, and for one of our rehearsals this semester they brought us wine (and also brownies I believe) and then came to hear us practice.

Where does such strength and heart come from? How are amazing people like this made? If I lost someone like Greg I probably wouldn’t be able to function for a long time. I’d lie down, curl up in a ball, and I wouldn’t get up for months. Here I am, feeling sad because our concert is over, but Greg’s family must be feeling so much worse. Greg will never get to sing anything ever again. His family will never get to go to one of his concerts ever again. One can only imagine what they must be feeling and yet they thought of us. In the midst of their grief they are also bursting with kindness, generosity and love to an extent I really can’t fathom. I can only hope for a fraction of this same strength for my oldest and dearest friend, who will be saying goodbye to her youngest son today.

Here are a couple of screenshots from the brief movies I shot at the end of our concert last night.