Save The Day

Up until a minute ago, my lead was “Dave Grohl saved the day.” But now it’s “Ethan saved the day.”

I’ve had a fairly shitty go of it today. Could be that I was working until midnight last night, running up and down the spiral staircase to answer IMs from work (it was the Movie Awards after all). Could be the weather. I’m way over summer already, and it’s not even summer. Could be allergies; my head feels like an anvil. Or it could be, heck, I dunno’, the general weight of life?

Whatever. It was the second morning (at least) where I woke up thinking, ‘How am I going to do all things I want to do? Two records? Two triathlons? The marathon? The tour?” It was the second morning (at least) where all I wanted to do was sit at home on the couch — in the AC! — and watch Regis. But, alas, no chance. What saved the day? Or rather, who?

First it was Dave Grohl, via Jonathan. I’ve been looking forward to the new Foo for weeks, months even. I need a little melodic, distorted pop now and again, and The Foos always deliver. This time they’re delivering times two: motivating the Areana Rocker in me with a rock record, and soothing the Sensitive Pony Tail guy in me with an acoustic disc. Double album! Nicely done, Foos. Goldner snagged an advance copy, I ripped it, and cranked it all afternoon. Sweetness follows.

But it wasn’t until I called over to Chris and Jen’s to wish Ethan a happy second birthday that I had a solid boost of the feel-good rocket fuel.

“Do you want to say hi to Uncle Benjamin?” Jen prompted.

“Hiiiii!”

“Tell Uncle Benjamin how old you are today.”

“Two.”

“Tell Uncle Benjamin ‘I love you.'”

“Wi lub woo.”

“Say by bye.”

“Bubye.”

Sigh, swoon, smile.

So, I’m due to go to the Aimee Mann show at Roseland here in a minute, and that’s cool. Truth is, I’d much rather stay here in my cool, dry bedroom and record some music (it’s been a while, don’t ya’ think?), but alas, my male crush Ron and his lovely wife Jodi will be there. Plus Ron promised that “all three of Jodi’s friends are cute, smart, and actually write.” Guy knows my sweet spot. So, apparently, does Ethan.