Okay, so Sweety Babboo accepts that I'd have a hard time choosing between him and Stephen Sondheim (or John Goodman or Aaron Sorkin), if pressed. I accept that he'd pause over a decision between me and Jeannine Garafolo or Noomi Rapace. We live comfortably with these, our celebrities, between us. (Notice, the celebs weren't given any choice in the matter.)
Ahhh, but Sondheim. He's an ex-academic trucker-grrrl's hummable philosopher-companion.
Choice. Now there's a theme ~ the thing that can galvanize us and paralyze us. To quote Marie, of Sondheim's gorgeous play, Sunday in the Park with George:
"Stop worrying where you're going. Move on.
If you can know where you're going, you've gone.
Just keep moving on.
...I chose and my life was shaken. So what?
The choice may have been mistaken. The choosing was not.
You have to move on.
...Stop worrying if your vision is new.
Let others make that decision. They usually do.
You keep moving on."
Indeed.
To me, the grrrl who belts out Sondheim and gets to enjoy the glorious context of all his musical numbers as I drive through some of the most beautiful country on the planet ... well, damn, ... what a beautiful world.
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