Comin’ up Lord…
In the past two years, I’ve gone to bed before midnight fewer times than I have fingers on one hand (I have five fingers on each hand, in case you were wondering. Food Bloggers: They’re Just Like You). Very, very rarely, though, I’m so exhausted by a day’s events that I find myself under the covers at the whopping is-the-apocalypse-coming hour of 11:30pm.
Prior to yesterday, the last time this happened was in Melbourne in December. I’d spent the day walking around Melbourne with the BFF (eating a delicious lunch halfway through that I promise to tell you about soon), and had then gone out to dinner with said BFF, Maria, their menfolk, and my brother.
We went to The Abyssinian, an Ethiopian restaurant, where we ordered two mixed platters between the seven of us (I still dream about the spicy pumpkin, which is at the bottom right of the photo above). Throughout the night, I saw every other table in the [packed] restaurant send back their banquet platters with at least half the food left uneaten.
We seven intrepid eaters? Well, we ate every single morsel. Even the lettuce leaves (the rest of them have me to thank for that. Woot lettuce! We would’ve failed in our quest to finish every bite had I not taken the lettuce for the team). Translation: food bloggers and our compadres rock.
Then, as if the exhaustingness of hours of walking and two restaurant extravaganzas in one day weren’t enough, I returned to my brother’s house that night to experience:
a) a mini-meltdown over a huntsman and her just-hatched nest of baby spiders in the room I was to sleep in, and
b) a Jam Doughnut.
In this case, a Jam Doughnut turned out to be a cocktail comprised of Bailey’s Irish Cream and Chambord. I was so tired I almost couldn’t lift the shot-glass to my lips, but I drew on my reserves and gulped that bad boy down.
It was delicious.
Wait, what was the point of this story?
Oh, yes. It was meant to function as a brief introduction to yesterday.
Yesterday was the second time in the past six months that I found myself exhausted by a day’s events. And just like that glorious Melbourne adventure, the tiredness was absolute welcomed for it arose from utter, utter happiness.
(Who would’ve thought, when I texted the fantasticful Conor on Wednesday asking her to distract me so that I wouldn’t burst into tears on the bus, that I could feel so joyful three days later?)
Yesterday, I spent seven straight hours at a gospel workshop led by Eric Dozier. That man’s passion for music as intertwined with social change, for history as imaged in lyrics, and for laughter and triumph as enveloped by harmonies, made me remember how uplifting music can be, and how exhilarated I can feel when I’m a part of it.
I was also relieved that Eric encouraged – nay, ordered – us to move to the music, as singing for hours at higher registers than I’m used to caused an over-oxygenated dizziness that, in turn, led to me swaying very rhythmically… quite unintentionally.
Add a delicious morning and afternoon tea to the gorgeous music, the laughter, the friendly members of the Strange Weather Gospel Choir, and the awe I felt for Eric’s talent, and I found myself thrumming through one of the best days I’ve had in a long time.
There’s only one more thing I have to say to you…
Gonna lay down my burdens
Down by the riverside
Down by the riverside
Down by the riverside…