Stacy Horn

This MBSR stuff I’m learning has made me stop and smell the roses, which is nice, although in my case that translates to getting down on the floor to smell the kittens. I took this a couple of hours ago while taking a break from writing.

Birthday week plans.

Getting my highlights done on Tuesday. The cut I’m leaving alone, I’m just going to grow it out. Other plans: movies. Knocked Up, Waitress, 28 Weeks Later, The Lives of Others. Shopping. I need new clothes for the gym. When I first started going I bought a lot of spandex-y like things because what did I know and that’s what they sell in the gym clothes section. Turns out, I hate those spandex-y things. I also need some summer tops, and dressy earrings to wear to this dinner for my brother who is Man of the Year for … a kidney foundation charity, but I can’t find the papers and I forgot the name!

I’ve also got an Apple Store credit that I’m going to use. I’ll be going to the gym, so I feel fit and healthy and ready to have 50 more birthdays, and giving myself a nice, home-spa-like day.

A bunch of friends are planning to do a group birthday party thing, but we haven’t been getting our act together on this.

Any good Memorial Day weekend TV?

I’m sorry for the sad picture. This is the grave of Christine Diefenbach. I wrote about her murder in my book about the NYPD’s Cold Case Squad. It was sent to me by the detective who took over her case when Tommy Wray (the detective who had it and who was in my book) retired. This is why I don’t want to write any more books about crime. It’s just too sad.

But of course you can’t escape sadness. I can’t believe I am once again writing about murdered children (the story of Bruce Kremen, the little boy who went missing in California in the sixties).

I’m still working furiously to get this book done by the end of June. It should be okay, but I am currently overwhelmed by the epilogue. Why is it kicking my ass so?? Speaking of the epilogue, I’m reading this book called The Canon. It’s an overview of science written for people like me, adults who really don’t know a lot about science. It’s pretty great so far. I wish I had this when I started this book.

My birthday is next week. Well, a week from Sunday. The whole week will be my birthday week. But I feel weird talking about that in the same post about Christine, it feels disrespectful. I will talk about that tomorrow.

Doesn’t this look like one of the living statues from Cocteau’s Beauty and the Beast? I love that movie. Time to watch it again. I found this on 10th Street, on the same block as the firehouse, I think it was. I notice it’s not just a face, but a flying, snake-head face. They just don’t make flying snake-head faces like they used to.

Meanwhile, my arm is killing me, and I haven’t worked on my arms for weeks, and probably won’t for weeks more. I’m going to have very built-up legs and weak arms. The opposite of Popeye.

Of all the people there, I wanted to be with these girls (and be them) the most. Seriously. I want to learn how to dance like that. Look at them!!

Here is my band! The big guy with the big drum who keeps holding up his stick is Anthony. I love Anthony. We used to stand next to each other when we played at SOB’s every week. I’m a leftie and he’s a rightie so we would be constantly wacking eachother with a drumstick in my case, a mallet in his. The girl in the hat at the end is the fabulous Ellen. You can hear me shout “you sound great!”

For contrast, here are some swing dancers. Love the swing dancers.

Here’s my band again, (Manhattan Samba) at Washington Square Park after the parade.

I loved these hats! They’re like that great hat whatsherface (Joanie?) always wore in Deadwood. These are like that. It’s the addition of a scarf that makes it. Must get a hat and tie a scarf around it.

Here are the drummers for the belly dancers …

And here are the belly dancers! What a great freaking idea this was. Thank you people who thought if it. I had the best time. I love people again. Thank God in addition to all that is bad there are people who think of things like this, execute it, people who learn how to dance, people who learn to play music, people who work for the city who help it happen, and help the parade run smoothly and happily, and the people who tidy up afterwards.

I’ve been reading about physics all day, so I took a break and filmed myself kissing Finney’s belly. I notice, seeing me hold him, that he’s a rather large cat. Jesus. Look at that guy. He’s a freaking monster. I call him “babycat.”