Recently I had a phone conversation with someone I think of as both a friend and colleague.

In what has become fairly commonplace, I first “met” him via Facebook, as a “friend of a friend,” meaning that we’d never actually met, but we had a (presumably) “real” friend in common.

This man used to live in the Phoenix area and had since relocated to Los Angeles to study acting.

There are no accidents.

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The Wages of Sin

Recently, at my gym, I was accosted in the locker room by a fellow member whom I must assume was a fundamentalist. He either recognized me from my business cards which are displayed on a wall along with many other local business’ cards, or perhaps by word of mouth.

He began speaking loudly, above the din of the crowd (there were about 8 other men present at the time). “Fortune tellers are the agents of the devil, my friend,” he said. And he began getting rather impatient as he realized everyone was staring at him, but no one was nodding their head in agreement with him.

Perhaps they were simply stunned, as was I.

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Voices Through The Floor: I Encounter Los Desperacidos

We recently returned from a wonderful cruise vacation of South America. While the trip culminated in the multiple-evening festivities in Rio known as Carnaval, it was our first port of call, Buenos Aires, which I am unlikely to ever forget.

First, a little back-story. My personal interest in Buenos Aires was fueled by my love of the musical, Evita, which had been released as a “concept album” in 1976, one year before I began studying music theory and composition in college. Eventually I would be defending my analysis of the score. During that time I also learned a bit about the subject of the work, Eva Peron, Argentina and in particular, Buenos Aires.

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When a Friend Passes

Today was a mixed bag. It started out nicely and ended on a dark note.

This morning we were hosted for breakfast by two of our close friends, a wonderful couple of guys. We ate, chatted, laughed, and caught-up with each other on all the changes going on in both my life and my husband’s. (I left the corporate world in November and my husband retired in December.)

During our breakfast visit, unbeknownst to us, we received a message from another close friend, whose husband was in the ICU at a local hospital. With what I’m sure was a heavy heart, he had decided to remove his husband from life support systems and let nature take its course.

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