And all that Jazz

Berklee faculty member Esperanza Spalding led her group in a set opening for the McCoy Tyner Septet at the Beehive last Thursday night to kick-off the Beantown Jazz Festival. The Beehive was an ideal hub for chowing down on savory veggie burgers (who would've thought that was a possible descriptive for such a food) and finding yourself mesmerized by the long hyperactive (and probably incredibly calloused) fingers of the cello player. The festival continued through the weekend, at which point one of the twins I nanny for made her spotlight debut in the Boston Herald trying her hand at the xylophone. Not to steal all the credit, but I'd just like to add that the girls and I have had some pretty rigorous practices to Charlie Brown's album lately and, well, if I was in attendance Saturday, that front page would've looked a shade different. I'm just saying.

The Red Sox clinched the American League Division Series Friday night coinciding with the arrival of our Chicago visitor, Chris Huff, whose team also sealed the deal that very evening. Amidst the Kenmore square chaos, cousin Katie McCabe was hosting her send-off party on Lansdowne St. The (naked) human keg cups were amusing, as were the sporadic champagne showers. But the ridiculously long lines had to be the highlight of my evening. Good thing Katie's flight departed safely on Sunday so there won't be a need for a repeat party for a while. Katie has shared her online journal site with us so that we may track her adventures through Fiji, Australia and New Zealand here.

My former Maine roomie was in town for a boat show this weekend, which happened to be in close proximity to the Harpoon fest, a 2 for 1 for some of us. The most notable random run-in at the brewery had to be a retired member of the "three muskateers", as they were known by Scott and his buddies in H.S., Jeff Oster. After assembling the jumbled (slurred) pieces, I think Oster was trying to send his greetings Scottie. And then a distant second would be cousin Garrett, who I was under the impression had turned 21 years ago, but in fact it was merely days ago. Peculiar. Following the Harpoon festival, 142 Pearl St had a pre-housewarming (we were down a roomie so we're still waiting for the real deal). It was a solid end to a long 24 hours and an excellent warm-up for the Ball Busters blow-out the following day at softball. Here's to team unison guys. I think a pasta party wouldn't be a bad idea next time though.

September 25

Forgive the de ja vu of this entry if you will. When you have 2 brothers with birthdays 2 days apart things start to blend together all too well. It's all about Scott McCabe today though people. Another San Francisco-er, big brotha Scott made his mark (in MA, let's remember our roots now) twenty-some-odd years to the T. I think it's only appropriate that everyone swing by AG's site (soon to be relocated under his own master-mind domain!) and plant (post) a wet one under the comments section or a simple birthday shout out would do the trick.

I'm hoping there will be a sufficient intake of meatballs and chocolate chip cookies on your end today Scottie, be them simultaneously or independently, and I'll do my best to contribute my part of course.

And, 142 Pearl St would like to extend its short and sweet birthday wishes to"Mr Scottie Boy". We were envisioning Eddie and we heard Garth. A blasphemy yes, but maybe the birthday boy will be swayed... what do you think folks?

Just for piece of mind: the image is shot but the idea is there!

September 23

Well James Matthew is the lucky fellow who was able to celebrate his birthday on both coasts today (physically) and essentially across the entire midwest region, a rare occassion indeed. J flew home this weekend with Liana and Marley to attend a "barn wedding" in western MA. Having the superpowers to be in 10 places at once as he does, J made the rounds before jetting back to San Fran this morning. Unfortunately, little sis failed to be in the right place at the right time (go figure). Instead, she honored the era of Jamie, at an 80's party sporting his letterman jacket, over which all the attendees and T riders gawked. Thanks Jame, it was an honor.

On behalf of me and my roommate (and 2004 travel companion to SF) Brian G, we'd like to wish Jamie a HAPPY spankin BIRTHDAY! Here we go Wildcats!

On a side note, earlier tonight, I attended Cambridge's River Sing on the water to join the crowd in giving summer a swift boot and welcoming the beautiful fall season, the best time of year to be in San Francisco if I might add. Apparently, River Sing is a new tradition that is supposed to bridge Boston and Cambridge via music. Not my particular choice of melodies but a lovely and enjoyable evening nonetheless. Happy Fall ladies and gents!

Did you hear?

Just a few announcements for folks. First and foremost, Scott has wowed us again. Big bro's latest publication has just been released. You can find his short story, Cheese and Crackers in this month's issue of the Summerset Review. If anyone's familiar with the McCabe side of the fam and/or hanging at the Green Harbor pad, you may want to prepare yourself for some tugging on the old heartstrings. Beautiful work Scottie!

Secondly, our good pal, Chris Burke and his band Staff Johnson have just been invited to make their debut at the Paradise Lounge next Friday, the 21st. Lyrics Born and Hot Hot Heat have got some fierce competition my friends. And, it just so happens that Staff Johnson will be opening up for the Alternate Routes, led by Tim Warren, a fellow Fairfield stag, not to mention my first crush back in the day. Here's one of their singles entitled Time is a Runaway. Bet you couldn't guess the name from the song... And, just for good measure, I should add that Jenny Lewis, a personal favorite (note the ripped-off song title serving as my blog identity), and her band Rilo Kiley will also be playing on the 21st at Avalon. We have a big night ahead of us people. Let's be sure we bring our A-game, ya?

Thirdly, lil Mars celebrated turning 7 months old this weekend, which us east-coasters can appreciate thanks to Jamo and his punctual picture taking (and posting) skills. If you haven't checked out his smugmug site, you better have one hell of a reason and then you better make an immediate visit and comment on how wonderfully talented my big big bro is and how f'n adorable my neice is. Thanks.

And lastly, while we're talking rights of passage, Alayna, a classmate and good friend of mine, nailed the booty-shake this weekend. Naturally. What better accomplishment could you ask for on your birthday? I mean, JLo has a lot of tail to work with but it is what it is. The bar was set and Alayna, with a little help from some skinny white girls and whoever was within arm's (or booty's) length, stepped up to the plate like a pro. Happy 2-8 lady!

Oh baby! Oh boy!

Friday was baptism by fire day as some would call it. My first clinical on a labor and delivery floor and guess what I saw?? Yup. I got the works first-hand. I was assigned to a lovely happy-go-lucky couple who was having its 2nd C-section after mom and child number 1 battled through the first one 5 years earlier. Although it was a scheduled event, I was not fully prepared for the dissection that took place.

Perched atop a stool hovering over the resident and the attending, yet keeping my distance from any loose flying liquids, it became clear that I wasn't going to miss any part of this invasive surgery. (Fortunately the mother was shielded by a hanging drape in front of her face). Not long after the physicians had reached their destination, did a forceful spray of amniotic fluid and blood cascade onto the resident. Ding, ding, ding. It was just about time to heave-ho at the baby's head. The newbie, weighing in close to 10 pounds, put up a fair stink about having to squeeze through the underestimated abdominal incision, let alone leave his warm and familiar sleeping quarters. After much stretching and tearing with metal tools that resembled shovels and with the aid of a vacuum, a healthy boy was safely excavated. It was something like you'd see in a science fiction film really - a slimy, not quite human-looking creature molding it's way out of the belly of a woman with a non-visible head.

Clearly not my sport

I think this little incident warrants another glimpse at the scene from a player and (later) a daughter's perspective. But thanks for deciphering and relaying the situation at the wee hours of the night Scottie.

If we're going to do this right, we're going to have to back it up a bit. I'm talking senior year at M.H.S. During one of our friendly lacrosse scrimmages, I assumed my usual position on D and paired up against a chatty cathy playing attack wing. Stick on the ball, where I like to keep it (as opposed to my face), I sense some tension from my opponent (who is also my teammate mind you). Next comes a "shot" from in front of a rather contorted and frustrated face. Little did I know her "goal" that day was actually my face. A multiple-fractured cheekbone and an embarrassing prom later, one would think that I would have retired the stick for good.

Well here we are again with renewed confidence and pent up aggression aimed at anyone in the vicinity of the goal I'm guarding. Turns out that didn't work to my advantage. After catching a stick in the eye, I returned to the hospital ER accompanied by pops of course. I think we ended up making at least 4 enemies that night and increasing our wait time 10 fold. The tech at the front desk ended up in tears, the plastic surgeon never showed, and Frank was banned from our town hospital. I did, however, receive my stitches before 1am.

Note: Don't go to a community hospital if you're not willing to clear your day's schedule and if you do go, don't piss off the hospital staff.

raise up with stix

this is my face on lacrosse.

fearlessly risking my future in modeling to win a women's league lacrosse game tonight, r.u.w.f. met the business end of a lax stick tonight. six big ones (sutures, that is) through the eyebrow later and i've pioneered a new kind of piercing. wait two weeks and all the hipster teens will be lining up at the emergency room doors for a stitching. (they call this trendsetting, if i'm not mistaken.)

to be filed under: who says girls aren't tough?

or: go ahead and try me, chip, and i'll come at you like a spider monkey. grrrrr.

142 Pearl St

I've done the leg work for you guys - procured an apartment with a legit roofdeck, scrubbed away the grime and google mapped the addy- so there's no time like the present to come hang in Central Square with the gang: myself, Brian and Dones.

Today is my last official day of freedom but don't worry guys, my unemployment reign continues. I'll just be stationed in a classroom in Charlestown instead of finding silly, yet deliberately enjoyable time-fillers. I guess it's about time to get those brain cells fired up again, eh? I've been assigned to an OB floor at MGH too so I'll be getting a taste of women's health, (which is the track that I chose before I was accepted to school based on the fact that I am a woman). I can only guess that I won't be giving gyn exams just yet. Might have to make a return visit to Maine.