It's shaping up to be an Arvo Pärt birthday. I became fascinated with Pärt's work when I first heard his ethereal "Cantus in Memory of Benjamin Britten" at an otherwise unremarkable Hubbard Street Dance Chicago performance a couple weeks ago. I mentioned him in my blog, and Arno -- ever the proud Estonian -- promptly sent me a bunch of information on Estonia's most famous composer.
My parents got me Pärt's Sanctuary last weekend for my birthday, and I came home one night this week to find a box with three other Pärt CDs waiting for me courtesy of Arno. Who knew I'd go from never having heard of this guy to owning what is most likely his entire oeuvre in less than a month? (And how fun is it to repeatedly type a word with an umlaut in it? I hope it's coming through OK for you poor unfortunate souls reduced to reading my blog on a PC.)
Other birthday weekend plans are shaping up well: Tomorrow night is a joint celebration with Bill. We've been working out together for almost a year, and we just discovered we have the same birthday, so Bill invited the whole office to a shindig tomorrow at some bar near here that he likes. Saturday night is an Easter-drag-mandatory celebration with 12 of my most not-afraid-to-wear-a-dress-in-public friends at Pepper Lounge. I found a $10 waffle-knit shift in '60s-mod shades of orange and yellow, and I'm going to try to find some fake daisies or huge buttons to sew on it and make it even more hideous. Top it off with a not-quite-the-same-shade-of-orange sun hat and a scarf I stole from my mom when I was home for Easter, and I should be the prettiest large-boned, gym-built birthday girl in the room. Then Sunday -- the day I actually bid my early 30s goodbye -- I have a Who's That Girl? rehearsal with Brent (aka Truly Scrumptious). I'm gonna be a backup dancer (as a boy this year) to his (aka her) big "Xanadu" number. And I can't think of a better way to turn 36 than shaking my honey-baked ham with Olivia Newton-John and ELO in a place where nobody dared to go, the love that we came to know. They call it Xanadu.