I was born on the same day as Ricky Martin, led a life parallel with that of Tori Amos, and last year married an imminently famous musical theater composer, so music is in my blood (and when one considers the other components of my bloodstream, the music seems relatively benign). But I have an ambivalent relationship with music, such as when it is blared from the rolled-down window of a car whose engine sounds like the space shuttle versus the jovial “Happy Birthday” sung to Rob on Friday night, or Saturday’s attendance of “Little Shop of Horrors,” starring our dear friend Jonathan. Today, after Quaker meeting, a gay and lesbian chorus came in and sang five songs from their repertoire. I am still deciding how I feel about that.

Also at Quaker meeting, I wrangled a test drive of a Toyota Prius, an environmentally responsible car I am considering buying, given my impending career. Stan, the owner, allowed me to drive it a total of fifty feet in a parking lot, so I should probably actually drive one on a road before I make a decision, but all indications are that it will be a winner. This is something I can focus on that will stop me from worrying about Goblin’s return visit to the veterinarianess tomorrow morning. Instead, I will picture myself driving down the highway of life in a Toyota Prius with Goblin in the passenger seat hanging her head out the rolled-down window as we leave a trail of happy music in our wake.

(Rob is in the back seat reading a “TV Guide”.)