Best Voicemail Ever

From my brother:
"I'm stuck in traffic. It's about 6:30. And there's a man behind me in a suit and tie in a Mercedes Benz. Twice now he's stuck his finger in his nose - up to the second knuckle - and then placed the findings in his mouth. And chewed. It's absolutely horrifically disgusting. Oh! Oh! Oh! He's in it again! He is! He is! He found it! And he put it in his mouth! Ugh!! And he's back again - for a fourth time! Omigod. That's disgusting. Love you. Bye."

The Blog Where Men Fear to Tread

I scare men. Over the course of the last two months, only three of the comments on the blog have been attributed to the male persuasion. I'm wondering why this is. Are you all drowning in estrogen? I try to avoid the discussion of feminine hygiene products and shaving my legs. I have been guilty of posting about shoes. And hair. And maybe a little too much about John Mayer. I try not to start any of my posts with words that I know might strike fear in the heart of men like "We need to talk" or "Do I look fat in this?".

Are my male readers (if indeed you're out there) the strong, silent type? I see comments from various males on other blogs...and maybe those readers aren't carrying over to my blog. I'm sure that there are any number of people who stop by here and prefer to read and not speak. But the lack of testosterone here in the jungle is perplexing...I'll probably go into complete histrionics before long, suffer a bout of severe PMS, cut my hair and eat a whole carton of ice cream. I hope you're happy.

Uncovered!

Thanks to Susan, I learned first thing this morning that the Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows cover art has been released. I'm posting the full unfolded cover for the full dramatic effect.

In the U.S. version, we're clearly looking at the showdown between Harry and Voldemort. But where are they? It appears, as Susan and I discussed, that they are in some sort of coliseum with spectators. And how creepy does Voldemort look? Looks like there's already some damage done to the battlegrounds. There's a lot of tension here - an eerie sky, Voldemort looking like he's attacking from the shadows (is that the veil there?) and Harry looks calm but focused. Very intriguing. If we go by the clues of other cover art, we can assume this is probably the climactic scene. An end scene has been featured on books 2, 3, 5 and 6.


And here's the U.K. version. I posted it because it offers the dust jacket copy - although, don't get excited. It doesn't reveal anything you hadn't already guessed but does confirm that Harry will be at Privet Drive at the beginning of the book (duh) and will be retrieved once again by the Order of the Phoenix. The cover art also features a stag, which leads me to believe Harry's patronus will be invoked once again. The hole that the characters are spilling out of is reminiscent of the passageways in the Chamber of Secrets. And while I though Ron was holding the sword of Gryffindor, it actually (as a very clever Susan pointed out) is a house elf, possibly Dobby. Let's hope it's not K reacher. The U.K. also puts out an "adult" cover, which features the locket of Salazaar Slytherin rumored to be hidden at Grimauld Place.


Although we had all guessed it, these little clues are tantalizing reminders that the 7th book will be a round up of the who's who and what's what of the Potter universe. Susan will confirm that I literally clapped my hands with glee.

All Good Things

* Lunch today on the veranda of Bluewater overlooking the Intracoastal with A., who makes me very proud

* Seeing porpoises in the Intracoastal - two or three of them bumping above the surface with their shiny fins and bottle noses and then tipping under again

* The bright, bright yellow forsythia blooming in the front yard

* The "gas leak" (a.k.a. afternoon loopiness) at the office that lead to me singing "Fathoms Below" from Little Mermaid to a coworker and my inability to put together a coherent sentence (and we only needed the one sentence)

* Kudzu asleep on a throw pillow next to me, making sleeping kitty noises

* A very long good conversation with my mom in which she said all the things I needed to hear

* Windows down, crossing the Memorial Bridge, listening to "Blew Away" by the Smashing Pumpkins

Dear John Letter (Part 2)

Dear John,
I know we've had our ups and downs in the past few months. First there was your sudden metamorphosis into Marc Anthony's double. And then you started dating Jessica Simpson. I'm still not quite over that. Just ask the folks at work - it is not an approved topic for lunch conversation. But in the end, I guess if you're happy, that's good. Just please, please, for the love of music, do not record a duet with her.

Anyway, I just wanted to let you know, Sunday, August 5, Philips Arena, Atlanta, GA...I'll be there. I'll be in the back, screaming my head off, acting like I'm 15 instead of almost twice that. And I'll still love you, John. Just one request - "Stop This Train", will ya? Thanks so much.

XO,
Ash

In Sheep's Clothing

Now that I've declared my independence, announced my plans to depart, and given my notice at work, I'm a mere month away from being an unemployed waif. I've sent out a couple of resumes, but I admit that my heart hasn't been in it. It's not because I don't want a job or because I don't think that jobs are out there. It's more a sudden inescapable feeling that I am...well, a fraud. I know on some rational level that it would be silly to think I could've kept my job for almost six years without having some skill. But it's one thing to succeed in the known arena, and another thing entirely to go back out into the marketplace to peddle your wares.

Yesterday, I interviewed someone who might replace me. Someone more than 15 years more senior than I am, and I felt a bit foolish asking her to describe her work experience. As if, at 27, I could possibly compete with her body of work, much less question her competence for the position. I actually confessed to her on the phone that I wasn't quite qualified for the position I hold. I just blurted it out before I had time to consider the context and the inappropriateness of telling an interview candidate that I have very little business conducting the interview.

She asked me if I felt like I had a good portfolio as I head out into the world to find another job. And I said yes. Yes, because I am proud of what I've accomplished. And I think that my work is good. But what if what I think doesn't hold water in the outside world? I can make all the pronouncements I want about my pride in my job and how I think it's good...but at this point, it's ultimately someone else's opinion that's going to matter. And I do know enough about this industry to know that it has the potential to be cutthroat and catty and condescending.

I keep imagining myself across from some unbearably hip executive who is making dismissive noises paging through my portfolio. I see the doors closing behind me; feel the impending sense of failure knowing that I will not get a call back. It all reminds me of a one-act play called The Actor's Nightmare. In it, a bewildered actor bounces from scene to scene, not knowing the words or the context and inevitably muddling everything. I feel quite like that now, like I've fallen into a performance where I should know the words because I've studied the script, but in the end, that great big hook is going to come out from behind the curtain and yank my incompetent self off the stage.

Idiot Royale?

I just finished watching the latest installment from everyone's favorite British agent. And I have to tell you - I thought Daniel Craig was great, but I have no idea what the movie is about.

We watched a lot of James Bond movies growing up. My mom is a big fan, which, thinking about it is kind of strange because if you knew my mother you would never guess she would love 007. But I always tend to have the feeling about halfway through these movies, that, while entertained, I've lost the thread of the movie. Or maybe I never had it to begin with.

I confess Casino Royale had me baffled from the get go. Despite the stellar opening action sequence on the scaffolding of a half-built building outside an embassy in Madagascar, I wasn't able to grab hold of why Bond was chasing this guy. And then, the bad guy seemed to shift about 100 different times in the movie. There was a lot of poker playing. A lot of text messaging. The romantic plot, dropped quite unbelievable from the sky three-quarters of the way through (following the literal ball-busting scene that was so torturous, I had to cover my face).

Shortly after that, the credits were rolling, and, while I was quite sure that Bond had saved us all, I wasn't sure from what.

I Am Adult Contemporary Radio

I stayed home from work today to work on the I-Robot software system, whose full functionality still seems to be just out of our grasp. Since I didn't need to factor in time to get my hair coiffed and my clothes ironed, I slept in rather late. And when the alarm went off, it was oddly on the radio. I usually set it to the horrible screeching sound because it's the only thing that will wake me. But this morning, I was woken by the sounds of WIL FM - and in particular "Rock On" by Michael Damian. You may not recall "Rock On" or Michael Damian, as it was the only hit by a veteran of The Young & the Restless back in 1989. But I was a big fan and got the tape in my Easter basket that year. "Rock On" was followed by "Closer to Free" by The Rembrandts, of the "Friends" theme song fame.

And so I continued listening to WIL FM, who played 9 at 9 today from the year 1988. That included
* "Desire" by U2
* "Cherry Bomb" by John (Cougar at the time) Mellencamp
*"Is This Love?" by Whitesnake
* "Shattered Dreams" by Johnny Hates Jazz (which, for the record, I actually remembered and did not have to look up)
*"What's On Your Mind" by Information Society (which I did have to look up)
*"Every Rose Has Its Thorn" by Poison"
* "Roll With It" by Steve Winwood
* "Never Gonna Give You Up" by Rick Astley
* "One of My Kind" by INXS

Now, I know Meg complained about this station, but I found myself falling in love with WIL a little bit as the morning wore into afternoon with more U2 and Edie Brickel and Pearl Jam's "Betterman." And then I realized...that this is the new adult contemporary. That I am quickly moving into the thirties crowd, that coveted demographic with disposable income that advertisers crave and that whole stations are built around - the kind that play the b-side tracks from the 80s and the vintage rock from the 90s. It's awash with nostalgia with its Toad the Wet Sprocket and Talking Heads and R.E.M. And there are a few of today's hits thrown in there just so you don't feel too old - The Fray and Snow Patrol. But in the end it's "1979" that keeps you there, thinking about how this song reminds you of middle school, high school, college. I guess I am getting old.

Or maybe it's what Penelope blogged about not so long ago, that need to hang on to all the knowns in the music realm. This music is like comfort food - you know all the words and how these songs fit in the framework of your life. Besides, you gotta love a station that puts "Stacey's Mom" in the line up right next to "Beast of Burden."

784!

784 equals the number of pages in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, as announced today by Scholastic. And 12 million equals the number of copies printed in the initial run. For those environmentalists among you, rest easy that J.K. Rowling has requested the U.S. edition be printed green and certified by the Forest Stewardship Council.

At 784 pages, the final Potter installment will be longer than Goblet of Fire and shorter than Order of the Phoenix. I think she knew that delivering less than 600 pages was going to disappoint fans. And with nearly 800 pages of Potter goodness to look forward to, who can really complain?

Let the conjecture begin about what those pages contain!

Kingpen

Although not a huge Stephen King fan myself because I simply can't handle the horror genre, I have mad respect for him. He's a prolific, genre-crossing icon. So it's no wonder that his son has been writing under a pen name for some time in order to try to make it as a writer aside from his father's legendary reputation. I'm intrigued that Joe Hill (born Joseph Hillstrom King) kept the secret so long - not only from the public, but from his editor, too. Sounds like the web has been rife with speculation, and his cover has officially been blown at this point. Plus he's starting to look like King. Or Garth Brooks in the "Thunder Rolls" video. I'm not sure which. At any rate, meet the sequel to The Shining.

Bright Eyes & Bath Time

Favorite photos from the weekend's visit.

Naughty by Nature?

How much can a person change? Not to get into the whole nature versus nurture debate, but how much about a person is ingrained - is the very code in his or her brain that is essential to identity? A person's nature seems to be made up of a series of reactions and interactions and personal habits that are a constant. It is the proverbial tree in the forest that no one hears falling - it is that state that you are in when you are unaffected by all other things. The default setting, if you will. When circumstances requires a person to override the default setting, does it go that the default setting will come back? How many times does it take before the new setting is the default? Or can it?

I seem to have an ongoing mental tug-of-war going on between whether or not I should expect a person to change a consistent behavior. The kind of behavior that when you mention it to other people usually elicits a response like, "Oh, that's just the way she is." And if that is so, that it's just the way someone is, is that an appropriate excuse for bad behavior? Are we allowed to write off inappropriate behavior by declaring it part of our default setting? For example, I am chronically late - as many of you will attest. Can I be excused from being late when it's inconvenient and inconsiderate to other people because it's just the way I am?

And that's a rather benign example. I'm talking more about day-t0-day relations with people. Ongoing behaviors that gnaw at you, make you feel like you're going to explode if you have to interact with a person in such a manner one more time. And I'm not talking about inherently bad people. I'm talking about people whose normal human flaws just happen to be the kind that manifest in relationships with other people. Flaws of self-absorption and condescension and greed and lack of empathy. In some cases, these are people who think to treat everyone else as they imagine they would want to be treated in the same situation - never taking into account that the people on the receiving end are vastly different. People motivated, inspired, nourished, comforted by completely different things.

Thinking that this ongoing behavior can be modified is feeling like a lost cause these days. In these cases, it seems that human nature has taken root, grown and flourished, and is not to be pruned in any manner. Reasonable requests and subtle hints fall on deaf ears. The default setting returns again and again - and with great pride at times. These behaviors I find abhorrent seem to be a source of pride in some people. And I find myself exhausted by the push and pull, the desire I feel to set things right and the disappointment I feel when I fail.

Perhaps it is time for me to just let go in the tug -of-war and see what happens when we all fall down.

Dear Lowe's Food:

I was going to say thank you for taking the giant bags of Skittles off the two-for-five-dollars sale. When I noticed the absence of the yellow sales tag, I thought for sure I'd be saved from myself. My need to taste the rainbow has recently spiraled out of control. Unfortunately, your non-sale price is only five cents more. I bought two bags anyway. Please, for the love of my pants, increase the price to something I can't justify - like $10 a bag.

Thanks ever so much.
Skittleholics Anonymous

Threesdays (Plus One): Albums for Spring

1. Our Lady Peace, Spiritual Machines
Standout Spring Track: "The Wonderful Future"

2. Pete Droge, Necktie Second
Standout Spring Track: "Northern Bound Train"

3. Moby, Play
Standout Spring Track: "Porcelain"

Plus One. David Gray, Lost Songs
Standout Spring Track: "Tidal Wave"

Shine - Track Listing

The track listing for the David Gray early years album is finally up on Amazon and set for release on April 3. Unfortunately for me, there's no new material. It's a pretty good who's who of his work from early albums Flesh, A Century Ends and Sell, Sell, Sell. If you don't have those albums and are hungry for some new David Gray between albums, pick it up. 1. Shine

2. Late Night Radio

3. Coming Down

4. Birds Without Wings

5. The Light

6. Everytime

7. A Century Ends

8. Lullaby

9. Faster, Sooner, Now

10. Wisdom

11. Falling Free

12. Sell, Sell, Sell

13. Debauchery

14. Flesh

15. Hold On To Nothing UPDATE: Posting this reminded me how much I love David Gray. And that I had an as-yet unused iPod laying around. I just loaded all my David Gray into iTunes and finally got the iPod going. Now I will have plenty of David Gray to keep me company on the plane this weekend!

Oh, Baby!

Eva sent me some new photos of Dillon today. He's been making the rounds with the family, and I'll get to see him this weekend when I fly into town. I can't get over how utterly adorable he is! I hear he's smiling now, so here's hoping I get a good photo of his grin while I'm there.

Old Blue Eyes

Everybody needs a nap.

Bright & alert for Nana.

Playtime with Papa
(who is very anxious for him to be big enough to wrestle with)

Georgia on My Mind

Other arms reach out to me. Other eyes smile tenderly. Still in peaceful dreams I see, the road leads back to you....Some sweet day when the blossoms fall and all the world's a song, I'll go back to Georgia cause that's where I belong. -- Stuart Gorrell and Hoagy Carmichael, "Georgia on My Mind"

About six years ago, I sat in a dorm room and wondered what would happen after graduation. I'd applied to five grad schools, received nice and less-than-nice rejection letters from four and clung to the single hope that my place on the waiting list of the fifth would give way to an actual spot in the M.F.A. program. And two months later, it did.

I made my way to the Carolina coast and started grad school - and at barely 22, I was about as tender and green and unprepared as I could be. But after about a semester, I had managed to find a few friends and a job. I had cried a lot and felt lonely more. And I wondered if I would ever feel at ease in this town. And two years later, I did.

When I arrived, I never imagined that I would stay so long. That grad school would run its course - rife with good friends, good memories and bad workshops. That my part-time job would turn into a full-time career. That I'd start to think of the big yellow house with the red roof as home. That unexpected relationships would be unexpectedly important.

But in the past year, I've started to tire of the long way home. It's six hours at best - and I've seen a few speeding tickets trying to make it less. I long to be closer to family and to put my roots down in the Georgia red clay. I suddenly noticed how flat it is here and found myself wanting hills. Smelled the salt and wished for pine.

And so I've decided to head back to Georgia. It's long been on my mind to do it, and I finally decided that the longing wouldn't go away, no matter how hard I tried to make it. I'm still getting my plans in order, but suffice it to say, I'll be weathering my last spring in Wilmywood. It's been a difficult decision to make - to pack up and say goodbye after so many years. To leave behind friends who have been my family away from family for so long now.

I won't be going back the same person I was when I left. I depended on my family for everything then - I'd hardly ever stepped out of the nest without someone holding my hand. Now I've grown so independent they hardly know what to do with me. I'm so proud of what I've accomplished while I was here and who I've become. And I will miss Wilmywood and the house on Grace Street and the river and the downtown streets. And more than that I will miss friends and faces and morning coffee across the desk from S. and girls' nights with Pen and Mel and gatherings at the bar with my old grad school comrades and dinners at Circa with Justin. I will miss the part of my heart that I will leave here.

And then I will find out if it's true that you can't ever go home again.

Sprung

Spring has sprung as evidenced by this little gathering of daffodils photographed through the fence that separates my drive from Neighbor Man's yard. And a little daffodil hanging out in my own yard just in front of the first azaleas. The day, happy to have an extra hour, held all the promise of the spring to come.

Loose Lips Sink Ships

I've never been able to keep my mouth shut. It's a rather famous family story that when my brother made the eighth grade basketball team, he left me home alone to go celebrate with his best friend Andrew and admonished me not to tell my mother when she arrived home. But when the time came, try as I might, I couldn't lie, my lips quirking up on both sides as I tried to sound miserable and say that he hadn't made the team. I don' remember what Justin said when he found at I'd told - I guess he knew better the next time.

If I were in Harry Potter, I'd never be anyone's secret-keeper. Not because I'm not loyal. On the contrary: I'm loyal to a fault, more willing than most to sacrifice myself for the comfort of others. But what I know and - possibly more intensely - what I feel, I must tell. And even when I have the best intentions of not telling, the words come tumbling out of my mouth before I even know what's happening.

Perhaps all the secretiveness was taken up by my sister, who is classically trained in evasion tactics. If she has no interest in telling you something, she is not easily tricked into doing so. I, on other hand, will tell my life's secrets with only the slightest provocation. I find myself telling people things all the time that I will think only later that I should've kept to myself.

I wish I were more secretive and mysterious, but I am the proverbial open book. I seem to have no control over the emotions that play across my face, and when I try to exert control, it's so unnatural that people can easily discern that I'm trying to hide something. And when one word would do, I overcompensate with ten. I'm like Bridget Jones with my chronic verbal diarrhea.

Even when I admonish myself again and again and again that I will not say something aloud, I will inevitably end up scolding myself inwardly when I'm mid-story with someone. And not a lover of conflict, I often find myself telling the wrong things to the wrong people. In order to exorcise myself of what I'm feeling, I tell Person A when I should really be addressing things with Person B. Some people suffer in silence, but I find that I must suffer aloud. And one of these days, my runaway tongue is going to get me in trouble.

While some may find this sort of open-facedness charming, I find it often comes along with a fair measure of regret when I realize that I've said too much. And there is something to be said for reservation when it's appropriate, as it keeps one from being altogether inappropriate. My loose tongue instead seems to plague me. It's rather a character flaw, I find, to need to tell my story all the time. Even now, I'm wondering if I've said too much.

Bringing Spears Back?

Famed producer Timbaland has revealed in a recent interview that he wants to team up with Justin Timberlake to save Britney. He says Timberlake is up for the challenge, and that he would take Spears out of the country to get her back on track. As the Musical Midas, he might have a shot at resurrecting Spears' tattered career. I kind of hope he rides to the rescue. It would make a nice story, and everybody like a happy ending. Even for a girl who goes in gas station bathrooms with no shoes on.

Separated by Impeachment

Hello, Pot. Meet the Kettle. You're both black. It seems that while Newt Gingrich was heading up the morality charge and focusing the whole nation's attention on former President Bill Clinton's oval office indiscretion with Monica Lewinsky, he was involved in his very own extramarital affair. He now admits to this "weakness" but says that it wasn't judgment on Clinton's immoral behavior that spurred him onward back then but his concern that the president perjured himself. Uh huh. Yeah. Tell yourself that if it makes you feel better, Newt.

Dear Sitemeter,

I noticed yesterday morning that you said 6,893. And then at the end of the day, you said 6,893. When I logged in, you told me that no one - not one single person - had visited the humble little blog all day. I felt sad that no one had stopped by to see if anything was new.

This morning, I noticed that you said 6,893. And that I had comments! Comments mean that someone is reading the humble little blog. I felt happy again.

But still you say 6,893. Here's a little confession. I like to know how many visitors I have each day. And how long they stayed. And how they found the humble little blog. Sitemeter confesses on its blog that problems have been occurring with a server and that your data is not lost. And I don't like to be pushy, but if you could hurry up and get that fixed so I can continue stalking my readers, that would be great. I'm trying to be patient, but I need you.

Bloggerly,
Ash

On My Way to Winning the War

Me: (On the phone making a case for what I want to do. Feeling like it's going to be one of those situations where I concede a point.)

Mama: Well, you just let us know what you want to do. And we'll do it.

Me: (Silence. Maybe a little lump in my throat.) Thanks. And I love you.

Declaration of Independence

You may recall that my New Year's resolution had something to do with being happy with myself. Simple enough. And yet, I find that upon close examination, I've spent a great deal of my life being unhappy with myself. Whether because of poor choices I'd made at any given time or guilt over feeling that I didn't measure up to some unrealistic expectations I'd set for myself, I've let too many days pass in self-loathing.

I want to make my family proud. I want to them to be happy with my life. Happy for my life. But sometimes, I realize that what I want and what they want are contrary. And that's okay. It doesn't make either party wrong or bad. It just means we've reached an impasse. The question is always who will give in - and it's usually me. I usually concede the point, at either the sacrifice of myself or, at the very least, at the expense of feeling like I'm a disappointment.

And so now, I'm making a declaration of independence from this endless cycle. In the spirit of my resolution, I'm forging onward with my determination to like myself - and stop obsessing over what I lack, where I fail, who I wish I was. Instead, I want to like me for who I am. To accept who I am...all the ways I am outside the box, rebelling against the group think, swimming against the status quo. Just like these guys.

What I Have to Put Up With

About two seconds after this, Kudzu put his cold nose on my eyelid to nudge it open and remind me that he had not been fed his breakfast. This tactic makes me a little nervous. I can't help but feel like he might one day try to eat my eyeball. Thanks, Mom, for taking this picture. I look lovely.

Gray Area

Because Justin thought that "Nightblindness" was a cover, and I was pretty certain it wasn't, I checked the good ol' Wikipedia entry for David Gray to prove myself right. Turns out that was a good move - how else would I have known that David Gray is releasing a Best of the Early Years compilation.

Unfortunately, I have no idea if he, like some artists, are including one or two new tracks on the disc, because the contents of said disc are something akin to an international secret. No mention of it on his official site. Amazon has it listed for release on April 3 but no track listing. And another search led me to his VH1 artist page, which was devoid of cover art and track listing, but had the release date for March 26.

Point is, if you like Gray and don't have his early stuff, you'll definitely want to pick this up. My guess is it'll have his acoustic masterpieces from Lost Songs and the like. Of course, you might have to give your social security number, PIN and mother's maiden name to be granted access to it.

Pretty Good Yell

When I was in college and minoring in theatre - yes, I was going to be the next Streep - I had a professor who constantly berated us for having Ted Nugent Neck. Ted Nugent Neck occurred when you failed to project properly from the diaphragm and ended up straining your neck trying to sound loud enough. I was particularly bad about this. And on Friday, on the way home, I was listening to Tori Amos' "Pretty Good Year" and giving my all to the "HEY" part when I full on experienced Ted Nugent Neck and then - ouch. I'm not sure what happened, but I definitely felt a pop and imagined that I could hear it, too. Now I'm taking Aleve every couple of of hours to alleviate my enthusiasm.

Before He Was House

My renewed love affair with Kate Winslet prompted me to pull out Ang Lee's Sense and Sensibility. As I started the movie, I anticipated the first appearance of one of my favorite characters - the acerbic, baby-hating Mr. Palmer. And then it occurred to me that Mr. Palmer is played by none other than Hugh Laurie! Pictured here with a slightly blonde Alan Rickman, who plays the endearing Colonel Brandon.

Confessions of a Former Theatre Freak

My boss is headed to New York tomorrow for an awards dinner honoring her sister. She mentioned to a coworker (and I overheard with my big, big ears) that she was going to see her first Broadway show on Saturday.

"What show?" I yelled.

"Les Mis," she called back.

"OH MY GOD I HATE YOU!!" I wailed before I could remember the following: she is my boss; I am 27; my intense love of Les Mis is a little embarrassing; my intense love of musical theatre could've remained secret; and she is my boss.

I bounded to her door and proceeded to further incriminate myself. "I looooove Les Mis. When I was in high school, my friends and I used to sit in my backyard and sing the songs. I was Valjean."

Full confession: The summer after my senior year of high school, we (the "we" outside of me shall remain nameless to save them from embarrassment) would reenact the show. As Valjean, I was required to have quite the vocal range (which I lacked). Nonetheless, we zealously proceeded with our productions. We might have recorded it a time or two.

We saw the touring production twice at the Fox Theatre in Atlanta that summer. The first time, I was so excited and emotional that I couldn't get out of my seat to stand for the ovation. And when I went to college, I had an 8 x 10 glossy of this photo on my wall. Colm Wilkinson, a somewhat aged Irish actor who really trademarked the Valjean role on stage. And I also had the color poster. And a key chain.

With my inner freak revealed, I went in whole hog. I looked up the current Broadway cast to see who's performing. And I let my boss know she'll be seeing Jenny Galloway, the Dreamcast's Madame Thenardier.

And now, I may or may not be reprising my role as Jean Valjean in the comfort of my own home.