Stacy Horn

It’s almost as delicious as a day off. Before I start working today I’m planning my day off tomorrow. Such fun. Even though I didn’t go to any movies last year, I can’t wait for the Oscars. I just find the whole thing so entertaining, the red carpet, the clothes, everything. I don’t know why! But when I’m finished working for the day I will go out and get myself a selection of healthy and not-so-healthy treats to snack on while watching, I’ll clean up the apartment and then exercise so I can be a complete and total slug tomorrow. I will be blogging my day and the Oscars.

Last night I went out to dinner with my friend Chris. We’ve know each other since we were 13! She still looks fabulous. Even though we’re not spring chickens anymore (what does that even mean? why do I use expressions I don’t really understand?) she’s managing to still look great. I can see the 13 year old in her face still. I can even still see the mischief. (She was a very mischievous young lady. As was I.)

Someone walking their dogs when we came out of the restaurant.

Although it’s rare, sometimes I forget to grab my camera before heading out the door. When this happens I’m miserable for the rest of the day. I’m sure I’m going to miss the best photographs of my life. I went to the library yesterday, and of course that’s when I saw all these shots I could have had. Like the people crowded at the door of the ice skating rink behind the library, waiting for it to open.

I had to wait a long time for the Victoria biography I ordered to be brought up from the basement. It wasn’t a problem, I went nuts on Proquest, my favorite thing. I was looking for stories about choral societies around the country. When the biography finally came it was in Spanish. “Hola Isabel, como esta? Estoy bien gracias, e tu? Bien gracias.” <——The extent of my Spanish. Finney and Buddy's post-breakfast conk-out.

Someone posted this on Echo. Why isn’t this being reported non-stop?? A group anti-immigrant vigilantes murder a nine-year-old begging for her life? Jesus Christ. This should be all over the news all the time.

WASHINGTON — Shawna Forde, whom a jury convicted last week of murdering nine-year-old Brisenia Flores and her father, Raul Flores, was sentenced to death by an Arizona jury on Tuesday. The unanimous jury ruling is binding. The court found that Forde led a group of anti-immigrant vigilantes in a March 2009 raid on the Flores home, where they posed as immigration agents and pushed their way through the door.

She and her accomplices, Albert Robert Gaxiola and Jason Eugene Bush, allegedly shot Raul Flores before turning their guns on Brisenia, who begged not to be shot. Gina Gonzalez, Brisenia’s mother, played dead and survived the attack.

The case was not designated as a hate crime, despite Forde’s long history with anti-immigrant organizations. She once maintained a Tea Party blog, was a member of Minuteman Civil Defense Corps and has presented herself as a representative of Federation for American Immigration Reform. (All three have since distanced themselves from her.) After being cast out from the Minuteman group due to erratic behavior, she formed her own vigilante group, called Minutemen American Defense, which also patrolled the United States-Mexico border trying to detect illegal immigration.

A sad, lonely violin in the window of a pawnshop. Other items inside: a couple sets of dominos and a DVD player.

I hate when this happens. I think I even posted about trying to think of all the people I should try to talk to before they die. Most of the composers I’m writing about are already dead. LONG dead. Yesterday it occurred to me—and it’s amazing that this is only just occurring to me—that I should find some living composers to ask them to answer the questions I’ve been pondering. (I’m pretty sure that’s the first time I’ve ever used the word “pondering” in a sentence.)

I made a short list and started looking for them and within seconds found out one of them, the polish composer Henryk Górecki, died just three months ago on November 12. I was that close. If only I had thought of this sooner. Although, it’s not like any of these people are going to agree to answer my questions, but you never know.

My choir performed Gorecki’s Totus Tuus and I just loved it. I see he wrote something called the Symphony of Sorrowful Songs. A man after my own heart. Sigh. Doesn’t he look like a wonderful person? And now my chance to speak to him is lost forever. Damnit. Well, here’s the rest of my short list. Please don’t die composers. (And please agree to speak to me.)

Morten Johannes Lauridsen
Jan Sandstrom
Steven Sametz
Eric Whitacre
John Tavener

This is Buddy’s favorite resting position. He’ll curl up on my lap and then he wraps his neck and head around my arm and puts his head down, making me have to type with as little movement as possible so as not to disturb his tiny, furry, purring head. Come on, look at him. Plus he has cancer. What choice do I have??

Today is my last day at my temp job. Gotta go. Gotta get ready and out of here. I like to walk there and it’s a 40 minute walk if I don’t hit all red lights and get behind too many people sauntering along while texting. (I got mad just typing that! I just hate how they abdicate all responsibility for looking where they’re going making everyone else have to look out for them.)