What ever will we do on our date this weekend?
Will we succumb to the easier, often more delightful, and certainly more refreshing staying at home on the couch in our pajamas? Or, the non-date, as it were?
Will we shower? Should we simply set that as a goal?
Since my husband needs to go into work at some point this weekend, should we pretend it is not the weekend? That's one way to bypass any guilt that could come from not spending much time together.
Will we figure that next week's long road trip to see a comedian will suffice as our weekly date?
I suggest a compromise. Something active but not that active.
Fall is here and the weather is lovely. A funny messaging conversation with a friend of a friend turned to bike rides this week. We don't own bikes. It is a nice thought, one that is far away and lofty, like winning the lottery. It sounds hard. Too productive. I'm already doing so well eating more salads (I HATE LETTUCE IN ALL ITS FORMS). Don't push my brain to even think about balance mixed with speed and a side of perspiration.
One of the husband's friends is an avid marathon runner and travels extensively to participate in different races throughout the country WITH his wife. They seem like really normal, fun, funny people aside from that. Can we all pretend not to notice my hanging my head in shame? I won't even walk at an increased pace with my hubby. Unless we have ice cream or something. Wouldn't want that to melt. Anyway, that is beside the point. The marathon runner came down with a nasty cold. It took all my might not to not say, "Maybe it's all that exercising!" I am pretty sure I'm the only one who finds that a hilarious comment. A knee-slapper. But seriously, all that running... Has to have some ill effects, am I right? Yes?
Stupid productive people with their healthy lifestyles and their enjoyment of vegetables.
Thinking about how much I do not enjoy activity and how there are lots of fun, reasonably athletic things we could do together on a date this time of year caused me to think about what I really do enjoy.
Sittin'. I enjoy sittin'.
No, no, to be fair... I don't enjoy it. I love it. I love sittin'.
Sittin' on the couch, watching television. Sittin' and eating our meals at home or in a restaurant. Or in the car. Or on our elusive picnic. That would also involve sitting.
Sittin' in front of my computer in the office. Sittin' at my craft table.
Sittin' anywhere with a kitty on my lap. Sittin' in the car, driving or being driven around.
At the movies, at a theater, at a game.
In an Adirondack chair, at the dining room table from my childhood, in a recliner, on the floor in front of a fireplace.
We have a push mower but I remember the days of a riding lawn mower. Sittin' is way more enjoyable. Plus, there's MORE POWER, ala Tim from Home Improvement... Wow, I just aged myself there. How old am I again? 60?
The dentist would be intolerable if he didn't let me sit the whole time. Actually, just about anywhere frustrating or scary or downright annoying is practically pleasant due to sitting, if sitting is available. DMV. Customer service line at any store. At the laundromat. In a classroom. On a bus. At weddings. at funerals. Waiting for your car to be repaired.
Going through the mail, watching anything on PowerPoint, sewing back on a button, filing papers, having bloodwork drawn, and anything that has to do with airplanes. As much as I hate flying, at least there's sittin' on airplanes.
Sitting also is instrumental to reading a good book, painting a masterpiece (sorry I just laughed myself into an even more impressive seated position there), and playing card or board games.
Sittin' at the beauty salon. Sittin' on a park bench. A beach. On a horse. On rides at an amusement park. Watching fireworks and parades. Making fireworks (there's your splash of romance! Boo-yah!) and being in parades.
Thanks, Middle America. I've been on more elementary and junior high floats in small town parades than I can count. Seriously. I've been in the bed of a pick up, on an actual float, and riding a horse. Good memories! All sittin'!
If I could get away with it, and if the grocery store wasn't my idea of a very awesome obstacle course or game show only I'm starring it, I'd ride in the carts you can drive. Sure.
In the bathtub, with bubbles. Lightbulb! Showering sucks because it's all standing! Which leads me to... As a lady, I'm always seated in the bathroom. How do men stand? It's kind of sad when I think about how awesome all things sittin' are.
Oh wait... I've told my husband that women don't actually use restrooms in the traditional sense, because we're all rainbows and butterflies and flowers. So of course I mean I sit in there to apply my make up. And style my hair. And put lotion on all sexy-like (for the purpose of this post, I do not just glob it on and go). Bonus information I haven't told my husband... Did you know that when ladies put on lotion, they always do it in slow motion and even if there is no music-playing device around, a Barry White song plays at the most appropriate volume possible. There, now he knows. One more female mystery revealed! Oh, will our love survive?
The more I thought about it... Obviously the list just never ends. Oh, sittin'. How you and I go way back and have a long future ahead of us. I love you, Sittin'.
Unfortunately, I am also somewhat ashamed of this love. I wish I was all "I love track and field" and "I love jogging!" but I don't. Zumba sounds like something Madonna would name her newest adopted African baby. Actually, don't Brad and Angelina have a baby Zumba? Yeah, I'm pretty sure they do, too. *Nods in agreement with you*
All right. Our date this weekend cannot solely consist of a sitting activity. I say we play our Wii, which we haven't played in months. Plus, the past handful of times we've played, we played games where we got to sit. We got Family Feud and Whammy for Christmas last year and played those a couple times, but they aren't active games. So, not only are we to play the Wii, we have to play some games on it where we actually move. Fun!
And getting out of our pjs will still be optional. :) I'm trying to plan for success! Success that doesn't involve 100% sitting.
Until then, I think I'm going to sit here. And enjoy it.
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Monday, October 25, 2010
Celtic Thunder Inspires!
My husband, my folks, my brother, and I had a pretty good time at the Celtic Thunder concert. It was a bonding family experience to say the least. It has also proven inspirational!
Celtic Thunder has provided a new outlet for my brother and for me. We have decided to start a band. It is called...
Drum roll...
Guitar solo...
Another drum roll...
Wicked keytar solo...
More drums! And...
Spotlight, disco ball, seizure-inducing flashing lights...
Norwegian Wind!
Oh yeah. I know. Sent shivers down your spine, didn't it?
Well, careful, because I'm not even close to done rockin' your world.
I own a 50 year old organ AND a tiny 15 year old keyboard. (Note and then forget that I did not say that I can play either, just that I own them). I did take piano lessons for a time. Once as a child and once as an adult. That counts for something, right? Of course, I do not own a piano.
My brother owns a guitar and can play the drums. I believe he also played the saxophone and the cornet for a time. The cornet was a family thing that basically translated to "It's close enough to a trumpet! We found it at a garage sale! You'll play it and you'll like it!"
Neither of us grew up to be professional cornet players. Sadly, sadly.
Back to business here. I do own a lot of cats, so we're considering having each one play an instrument. One lady in Celtic Thunder played the harp. I bet at least one of the cats could attack a harp and have something not entirely dissonant happen. Obviously, my brother and I will be the brains behind the group. I mean, how could Norwegian Wind not sell out the Fox?
Right?
Right?
Get ready!
We cannot deny the world our musical gifts!
Our future fans!
Think of our future fans.
That is what will keep us going on the long, long roads leading us to musical greatness.
Norwegian Wind. Gosh, I hope the kitties don't get hooked on drugs and hoes. I don't want them living the rock and roll lifestyle. I guess we'll just cross that bridge when it comes. I wonder where I can get little Norwegian Wind tee shirts made for them... And they'll need hair gel... Lots of little kitty hair gel... We'll do some covers, too, of course. I really was waiting for Celtic Thunder to bust out Extreme's More Than Words but it didn't happen, so that b*tch is ours!
Picture kitties playing instruments, wearing little band tee shirts, and meowing More Than Words. If you are not blown away right now, I'm pretty sure you have no soul.
So, that is the sexy, sexy new band I am in. A band consisting of siblings and cats. Still, though, that would make my husband married to a lady in a band! That's cool for a relationship! Sorry, groupies, I am married!
Everything I do, I do it for you, Honey!
Celtic Thunder has provided a new outlet for my brother and for me. We have decided to start a band. It is called...
Drum roll...
Guitar solo...
Another drum roll...
Wicked keytar solo...
More drums! And...
Spotlight, disco ball, seizure-inducing flashing lights...
Norwegian Wind!
Oh yeah. I know. Sent shivers down your spine, didn't it?
Well, careful, because I'm not even close to done rockin' your world.
I own a 50 year old organ AND a tiny 15 year old keyboard. (Note and then forget that I did not say that I can play either, just that I own them). I did take piano lessons for a time. Once as a child and once as an adult. That counts for something, right? Of course, I do not own a piano.
My brother owns a guitar and can play the drums. I believe he also played the saxophone and the cornet for a time. The cornet was a family thing that basically translated to "It's close enough to a trumpet! We found it at a garage sale! You'll play it and you'll like it!"
Neither of us grew up to be professional cornet players. Sadly, sadly.
Back to business here. I do own a lot of cats, so we're considering having each one play an instrument. One lady in Celtic Thunder played the harp. I bet at least one of the cats could attack a harp and have something not entirely dissonant happen. Obviously, my brother and I will be the brains behind the group. I mean, how could Norwegian Wind not sell out the Fox?
Right?
Right?
Get ready!
We cannot deny the world our musical gifts!
Our future fans!
Think of our future fans.
That is what will keep us going on the long, long roads leading us to musical greatness.
Norwegian Wind. Gosh, I hope the kitties don't get hooked on drugs and hoes. I don't want them living the rock and roll lifestyle. I guess we'll just cross that bridge when it comes. I wonder where I can get little Norwegian Wind tee shirts made for them... And they'll need hair gel... Lots of little kitty hair gel... We'll do some covers, too, of course. I really was waiting for Celtic Thunder to bust out Extreme's More Than Words but it didn't happen, so that b*tch is ours!
Picture kitties playing instruments, wearing little band tee shirts, and meowing More Than Words. If you are not blown away right now, I'm pretty sure you have no soul.
So, that is the sexy, sexy new band I am in. A band consisting of siblings and cats. Still, though, that would make my husband married to a lady in a band! That's cool for a relationship! Sorry, groupies, I am married!
Everything I do, I do it for you, Honey!
Celtic Thunder Date (AKA I Owe The Husband Big Time)
My husband and I have spent 3 months deliberating and painstakingly not thinking about the date we had this past weekend. Especially after we got the tickets and realized that we had never been to a concert together before. And that our date would be what I called a double date and a half, in that we were going with my parents and my brother.
Add to that, this was going to be the first time everyone was staying in our house. We were really looking forward to it, but with a sort of cautious, don't get our hopes up too high kind of way. What if a cat vomits on them? Or worse, marks them! Oh Jesus. My dad and brother are both way over 6 feet tall. They're going to see all the dust in the high places that I don't even know are dirty.
Normal people would buy mums and pumpkins for a welcoming, warm look. Sure, I wanted to do that, but there were more important things to do. Our version of rolling out the red carpet was buying a new toilet seat (one that doesn't have random blue stains and a tear!) and investing in a couple more towels, since although we've lived here 4 years, it turns out we only have towels enough for 2 people, if you are not including the dog towels. WHICH WE WEREN'T.
My mother loves Celtic Thunder. When she first started talking about them, I thought of the long red haired, Lilith Fair-looking ladies. Which we had also never actually heard sing. But, no, Celtic Thunder is a group of guys. Most look like they are 40 years old, except for the baby of the group, who looks like he's around 8. The ladies are Celtic something or other. Not the same thing.
Anyway, I guess Celtic Thunder has specials on PBS, which is a channel we never watch. That ended up being icing on the cake, since PBS sponsored their concert and in order to get decent tickets, we had to become Uber-Super-Royalty-Level members of PBS. I have a gold speciality PBS card now. Ooooooh. Ahhhhhh. We still don't know what channel PBS is even on.
My husband, who is not one to have broad musical tastes, or really musical tastes in any sort of quantity, handled the whole thing beautifully. You have to think that he's all Rage Against the Machine from 10 years ago and Bach. Not a lot else goin' on there. He's not really a music guy. He did play the violin for years and years, which I find completely adorable and although I've never seen or heard him play, I imagine him all The Red Violin via Joshua Bell, of course.
He spent oodles of time with my family. He didn't hide once! He taught my dad how to use the DVR that my dad just got a month or two ago (since my folks live 7 hours away from us). He chatted with my brother while my mom and I walked the dog around the neighborhood. He didn't complain once about anything. He is such a good husband. The visit went well, and the highlight of it was the concert. He drove through the traffic like a pro. My parents were so thrilled that he drove. It was almost silly how much we all like to be driven around.
Now, I like music. I have a lot of guilty pleasures. I like just about everything. Still, I did not listen to anything by Celtic Thunder on purpose. What if they are my Lawrence Welk? My mom grew up listening to Lawrence Welk because her dad loved them. So, she hates them with a ferocious passion. I figured the hubby and I could sit through anything once. Especially when we all somehow ended up in the the middle of the 5th row behind the orchestra pit. Thanks, PBS.
Traffic almost made us late. Parking ended up okay but almost was a disaster. Finally having an extra pair of hands to use the camera didn't come in handy at all. We took zero pictures mostly due to time not being on our side.
Showing my family the Fox Theater in St. Louis was great. I've written before about this theater. We saw several musicals there. It is stunning. My dad said it was the most ornate theater he'd ever seen.
My husband sat between my mom and me for the first half of the show (then he and I switched).
The lights went down and the guys came out. There were a lot of boy band type screams from the females in attendance. In fact, every single time one of the guys MOVED, as in rose from a seated position or walked across the stage, someone let out the 16 year old girl inside of them. A LOT of these guttural, girlie sounds came from women who definitely had to work to tap into that 16 year old, since she had been out of sight for about 35 years. And I am being very generous there.
I had some kind of uncontrollable giggle fest for the first two songs. Probably because the sound quality could have been better and I was praying that these songs were not in English, because I could not make out one single word. And the screaming, of course. Wow. I think it was bouncing off the 4 tons of hair gel the guys were wearing and flying right back at the audience.
I also think it may have something to do with how my father liked to try to sell Celtic Thunder to us these past couple months.
"They are nothing like a boy band!"
"They're all straight!"
"They're just 4 soloists who decided to sing together! Again, nothing about them says boy band! They are professional singers!"
I would, for the record, not call them a boy band. A man band, yes, but not a boy band. Sure, they could be straight. I mean, miracles happen, right?
My mom said the one was engaged to the conductor's daughter. The one who kept suggestively touching the baby of the group. I swear I almost peed my pants laughing.
My husband sat there kind of in shock. I kept rubbing his hand and he kind of chuckled at all the things I was giggling at. The hormone fueled screams from the audience did not help my giggles. They just didn't stop. Not for the whole show.
I also giggled at one of the 3 lovely Celtic ladies that played a violin in the background. Holy crap. It was more of a stunned laugh actually. Every five seconds, she whipped out another instrument and went to town playing on that. My husband and I started dramatically gesturing to each other, as if under a table, keeping count on our fingers every time she grabbed a piccolo, accordion, clarinet... I sort of thought maybe she needed her own show. Blowin'. My. Mind. I'm not saying Celtic Thunder wasn't a talented group. I'm just saying our eyes were glued to her for a lot of the show. Who can play a 300 different instruments? That lady can.
The actual members of Celtic thunder sang a few songs together. Then, they all sang individual songs. Every time a new guy came out, every time he would move, the little girl screams would happen. Even if the sound quality had been pristine, it would have still been hard to catch a lot of the words. One of the guys was not in Celtic Thunder but sang as many songs as the other group members... So I don't really understand why he wasn't a member of the group. He didn't get to change outfits and he played guitar, so I guess those distinct differences were what made him ineligible. He looked like Jason from True Blood. So in my head, I kind of thought he might be hooked on v and have a southern accent.
The first half of the concert was all old Celtic songs, or so my brother said. Some songs were not in English (like the first 2, so good for me there! It wasn't just me! It was actually another language!).
My brother looks like a Metallica fan versus a Celtic Thunder fan. I think that is because he listens to Metallica and I can guarantee you he doesn't own any songs by Celtic Thunder. We were all there as a family event. I asked him if he had a favorite Celtic Thunder member during intermission and he answered me with a single, solitary look. That would be translated as NO, I DO NOT. YOU ARE NOT FUNNY, SISTER OF MINE.
Unfortunately, or fortunately, the giggle fest didn't stop for me, but I did try very hard. We had a good time. I asked my husband during intermission what he thought. He said, "It's okay." Which was pretty big praise considering.
I tried to ask my parents if they had a favorite group member, which they did. Since the guys were so similar, they were unable to describe the right person for me. Each one had worn a vest at one point during the first half. So the whole, "you know the one in the brown vest?" did not help me. They were all, hey my jacket is unbuttoned, and now, it's buttoned! And now my jacket is black instead of grey! Ooooo! Look, I have a vest! Look, I have a vest, too! They just kept changing dressy separates like they were in an ad for Men's Warehouse. One guy even gave me a new lifelong dream, when he came out in the world's most cream colored ensemble ever. Oh, Honey. One day. I will dress my husband like a giant ice cream cone.
As I mentioned, all the songs had been old Celtic songs so far. Still trying to figure out who was who's favorite, I asked questions like, "Was he the one who sang about the sailing?"
"How about the one who sang about the water? The river or something?"
Since this could describe all the songs so far, this did not help.
My dad then did a dramatic gesture like he was flagging down a cab and said when his favorite guy sings next after intermission, he'd give me the gesture. My mom also decided to do this. Which of course, made me giggle during the second part of the concert. One guy would start his solo and a parent would suddenly be gesturing wildly at me. Too. Awesome.
After intermission, the lights came down, and the first song was a song that I sang with my class in the fifth grade school concert. They went from old Celtic songs straight into EVERYTHING I DO, I DO IT FOR YOU by Bryan Adams.
The look on my husband's face was priceless. I could have died happy right there. It was one of the funniest things I have ever seen.
The covers just kept on coming. The entire second half. Even U2 was not spared. Or the frickin' Beach Boys. Every time a few notes of the next song hit my husband's ears, his face just contorted into "This cannot be what I am hearing. This cannot be happening."
I later asked my mom about the surfing songs, because I'm no geographical genius, but I was pretty damn sure there was not a lot of surfing going on in Ireland or Scotland or Celtic-land or wherever these guys were from. Turns out that partiuclar singer's family owns the only surfing shop in Ireland (supposedly). As my mom tried to make sure I was talking about the right member of the group, I described him as, "The one who is pretty, like a lady." Yep, that was the one.
Oh, my goodness. I have never been so tickled. It's not like anyone was suffering through the show. I do think we all handled it very well. The group had lovely voices and the crowd was very happy to be there. It was a full house for sure. The hubby and I could have seen worse for our first concert together.
My mom loved it, my dad enjoyed it, and my husband and brother were just kind of shocked into a Celtic world against their will. I heard my dad got to listen to Celtic Thunder CDs the entire drive back home. We're all meeting up again in a couple weeks to see a comedian we all like. This time, the hubby and I will be traveling to meet them closer to the family's neck of the woods. I will definitely tease the husband and tell him we're going to listen to Celtic Thunder in the car. Don't tell him I'm bluffing and that I don't own any Celtic Thunder songs yet!
Add to that, this was going to be the first time everyone was staying in our house. We were really looking forward to it, but with a sort of cautious, don't get our hopes up too high kind of way. What if a cat vomits on them? Or worse, marks them! Oh Jesus. My dad and brother are both way over 6 feet tall. They're going to see all the dust in the high places that I don't even know are dirty.
Normal people would buy mums and pumpkins for a welcoming, warm look. Sure, I wanted to do that, but there were more important things to do. Our version of rolling out the red carpet was buying a new toilet seat (one that doesn't have random blue stains and a tear!) and investing in a couple more towels, since although we've lived here 4 years, it turns out we only have towels enough for 2 people, if you are not including the dog towels. WHICH WE WEREN'T.
My mother loves Celtic Thunder. When she first started talking about them, I thought of the long red haired, Lilith Fair-looking ladies. Which we had also never actually heard sing. But, no, Celtic Thunder is a group of guys. Most look like they are 40 years old, except for the baby of the group, who looks like he's around 8. The ladies are Celtic something or other. Not the same thing.
Anyway, I guess Celtic Thunder has specials on PBS, which is a channel we never watch. That ended up being icing on the cake, since PBS sponsored their concert and in order to get decent tickets, we had to become Uber-Super-Royalty-Level members of PBS. I have a gold speciality PBS card now. Ooooooh. Ahhhhhh. We still don't know what channel PBS is even on.
My husband, who is not one to have broad musical tastes, or really musical tastes in any sort of quantity, handled the whole thing beautifully. You have to think that he's all Rage Against the Machine from 10 years ago and Bach. Not a lot else goin' on there. He's not really a music guy. He did play the violin for years and years, which I find completely adorable and although I've never seen or heard him play, I imagine him all The Red Violin via Joshua Bell, of course.
He spent oodles of time with my family. He didn't hide once! He taught my dad how to use the DVR that my dad just got a month or two ago (since my folks live 7 hours away from us). He chatted with my brother while my mom and I walked the dog around the neighborhood. He didn't complain once about anything. He is such a good husband. The visit went well, and the highlight of it was the concert. He drove through the traffic like a pro. My parents were so thrilled that he drove. It was almost silly how much we all like to be driven around.
Now, I like music. I have a lot of guilty pleasures. I like just about everything. Still, I did not listen to anything by Celtic Thunder on purpose. What if they are my Lawrence Welk? My mom grew up listening to Lawrence Welk because her dad loved them. So, she hates them with a ferocious passion. I figured the hubby and I could sit through anything once. Especially when we all somehow ended up in the the middle of the 5th row behind the orchestra pit. Thanks, PBS.
Traffic almost made us late. Parking ended up okay but almost was a disaster. Finally having an extra pair of hands to use the camera didn't come in handy at all. We took zero pictures mostly due to time not being on our side.
Showing my family the Fox Theater in St. Louis was great. I've written before about this theater. We saw several musicals there. It is stunning. My dad said it was the most ornate theater he'd ever seen.
My husband sat between my mom and me for the first half of the show (then he and I switched).
The lights went down and the guys came out. There were a lot of boy band type screams from the females in attendance. In fact, every single time one of the guys MOVED, as in rose from a seated position or walked across the stage, someone let out the 16 year old girl inside of them. A LOT of these guttural, girlie sounds came from women who definitely had to work to tap into that 16 year old, since she had been out of sight for about 35 years. And I am being very generous there.
I had some kind of uncontrollable giggle fest for the first two songs. Probably because the sound quality could have been better and I was praying that these songs were not in English, because I could not make out one single word. And the screaming, of course. Wow. I think it was bouncing off the 4 tons of hair gel the guys were wearing and flying right back at the audience.
I also think it may have something to do with how my father liked to try to sell Celtic Thunder to us these past couple months.
"They are nothing like a boy band!"
"They're all straight!"
"They're just 4 soloists who decided to sing together! Again, nothing about them says boy band! They are professional singers!"
I would, for the record, not call them a boy band. A man band, yes, but not a boy band. Sure, they could be straight. I mean, miracles happen, right?
My mom said the one was engaged to the conductor's daughter. The one who kept suggestively touching the baby of the group. I swear I almost peed my pants laughing.
My husband sat there kind of in shock. I kept rubbing his hand and he kind of chuckled at all the things I was giggling at. The hormone fueled screams from the audience did not help my giggles. They just didn't stop. Not for the whole show.
I also giggled at one of the 3 lovely Celtic ladies that played a violin in the background. Holy crap. It was more of a stunned laugh actually. Every five seconds, she whipped out another instrument and went to town playing on that. My husband and I started dramatically gesturing to each other, as if under a table, keeping count on our fingers every time she grabbed a piccolo, accordion, clarinet... I sort of thought maybe she needed her own show. Blowin'. My. Mind. I'm not saying Celtic Thunder wasn't a talented group. I'm just saying our eyes were glued to her for a lot of the show. Who can play a 300 different instruments? That lady can.
The actual members of Celtic thunder sang a few songs together. Then, they all sang individual songs. Every time a new guy came out, every time he would move, the little girl screams would happen. Even if the sound quality had been pristine, it would have still been hard to catch a lot of the words. One of the guys was not in Celtic Thunder but sang as many songs as the other group members... So I don't really understand why he wasn't a member of the group. He didn't get to change outfits and he played guitar, so I guess those distinct differences were what made him ineligible. He looked like Jason from True Blood. So in my head, I kind of thought he might be hooked on v and have a southern accent.
The first half of the concert was all old Celtic songs, or so my brother said. Some songs were not in English (like the first 2, so good for me there! It wasn't just me! It was actually another language!).
My brother looks like a Metallica fan versus a Celtic Thunder fan. I think that is because he listens to Metallica and I can guarantee you he doesn't own any songs by Celtic Thunder. We were all there as a family event. I asked him if he had a favorite Celtic Thunder member during intermission and he answered me with a single, solitary look. That would be translated as NO, I DO NOT. YOU ARE NOT FUNNY, SISTER OF MINE.
Unfortunately, or fortunately, the giggle fest didn't stop for me, but I did try very hard. We had a good time. I asked my husband during intermission what he thought. He said, "It's okay." Which was pretty big praise considering.
I tried to ask my parents if they had a favorite group member, which they did. Since the guys were so similar, they were unable to describe the right person for me. Each one had worn a vest at one point during the first half. So the whole, "you know the one in the brown vest?" did not help me. They were all, hey my jacket is unbuttoned, and now, it's buttoned! And now my jacket is black instead of grey! Ooooo! Look, I have a vest! Look, I have a vest, too! They just kept changing dressy separates like they were in an ad for Men's Warehouse. One guy even gave me a new lifelong dream, when he came out in the world's most cream colored ensemble ever. Oh, Honey. One day. I will dress my husband like a giant ice cream cone.
As I mentioned, all the songs had been old Celtic songs so far. Still trying to figure out who was who's favorite, I asked questions like, "Was he the one who sang about the sailing?"
"How about the one who sang about the water? The river or something?"
Since this could describe all the songs so far, this did not help.
My dad then did a dramatic gesture like he was flagging down a cab and said when his favorite guy sings next after intermission, he'd give me the gesture. My mom also decided to do this. Which of course, made me giggle during the second part of the concert. One guy would start his solo and a parent would suddenly be gesturing wildly at me. Too. Awesome.
After intermission, the lights came down, and the first song was a song that I sang with my class in the fifth grade school concert. They went from old Celtic songs straight into EVERYTHING I DO, I DO IT FOR YOU by Bryan Adams.
The look on my husband's face was priceless. I could have died happy right there. It was one of the funniest things I have ever seen.
The covers just kept on coming. The entire second half. Even U2 was not spared. Or the frickin' Beach Boys. Every time a few notes of the next song hit my husband's ears, his face just contorted into "This cannot be what I am hearing. This cannot be happening."
I later asked my mom about the surfing songs, because I'm no geographical genius, but I was pretty damn sure there was not a lot of surfing going on in Ireland or Scotland or Celtic-land or wherever these guys were from. Turns out that partiuclar singer's family owns the only surfing shop in Ireland (supposedly). As my mom tried to make sure I was talking about the right member of the group, I described him as, "The one who is pretty, like a lady." Yep, that was the one.
Oh, my goodness. I have never been so tickled. It's not like anyone was suffering through the show. I do think we all handled it very well. The group had lovely voices and the crowd was very happy to be there. It was a full house for sure. The hubby and I could have seen worse for our first concert together.
My mom loved it, my dad enjoyed it, and my husband and brother were just kind of shocked into a Celtic world against their will. I heard my dad got to listen to Celtic Thunder CDs the entire drive back home. We're all meeting up again in a couple weeks to see a comedian we all like. This time, the hubby and I will be traveling to meet them closer to the family's neck of the woods. I will definitely tease the husband and tell him we're going to listen to Celtic Thunder in the car. Don't tell him I'm bluffing and that I don't own any Celtic Thunder songs yet!
Friday, October 22, 2010
Elk Park Date, Take 1
Last weekend, the hubby took me to Elk Park. I made hot chocolate with marshmallows for the drive through the animal areas. The leaves were changing! Sun shining! Breeze blowing! I was DETERMINED ALL THINGS WOULD BE FESTIVE. It wasn't going to be a date! It was going to be an experience!
Sigh.
Around the time we pulled out of our little neighborhood, I got car sick. I didn't say anything. Because, you know... FESTIVE!
We took the big city road (highway? interstate? Stop judging me! I don't claim to be king of maps and geography!). Then we hit the smaller winding, hilly, roller-coaster-y mess that is the journey into and through the park.
We drove and drove and drove. Up and down and here and there. Not only did I not see any animals, I wanted to crawl into a ball and possibly pass out. But, FESTIVE! FIGHT IT! I AM IN CHARGE HERE, SAYS MY BRAIN TO MY BODY.
My body just laughed like a group of teenage girls. All annoying like.
The hubby and I finally saw several cars pulled over. The park was pretty crowded with hikers and families walking/chasing their children around, but we hadn't seen any animals yet. This time, people were out of their cars, standing on top of picnic tables, looking down into a ravine. Translation: Something to see!
We got back into the car, and although the fresh air and little walk had helped, my husband wasn't having it. He'd figured out I wasn't feeling so hot due to my weird breathing patterns and all the fidgeting I'd been trying to pass off as just really dramatic gesturing. How sick was I feeling? So sick. Ug! Why! FESTIVE! This was supposed to be our quintessential fall date! Exponentially FESTIVE!
The husband drove us towards the exit, where we passed two elk resting very close to the road. I felt a little bad for them, obviously 2 males, no ladies, lonely...
Then I got on some roll about how, hey, maybe it's a lifestyle choice and they aren't lonely! Maybe they are in loves. You go, Elk! You be your own herd! Follow your hearts! Be proud, Elks!
My husband drove as fast as he thought he could in order to get us home as soon as possible, away from the one-woman-elk-gay-pride-parade I was throwing in the passenger seat. Despite how annoying I was being, he was still trying to drive carefully in order to not to make my motion sickness any worse, which was very sweet. Especially considering I was about 3 seconds away from losing my fight with the filter keeping my favorite Cher song in my head and not in the air all around us.
"Baby, it's all or nothing now! Don't want to run and I can't walk out. You're breaking my heart if you leave me now! Don't wanna wait foreeeveeer-"
Sorry. Sometimes I can't stop the Cher. I was able to hold it in inside the car so I guess it's been waiting to escape since then. On our drive home, I just sort of rested my head against the armrest between my hubby and me. While still in a fully upright seated position. No, it wan't comfy. But, it did help to stop the nausea. So, victory!
The park was beautiful despite our less than stellar time there. The lake, the trees, the sky, the colors. I wish I had been able to enjoy it more.
Sigh.
Around the time we pulled out of our little neighborhood, I got car sick. I didn't say anything. Because, you know... FESTIVE!
We took the big city road (highway? interstate? Stop judging me! I don't claim to be king of maps and geography!). Then we hit the smaller winding, hilly, roller-coaster-y mess that is the journey into and through the park.
We drove and drove and drove. Up and down and here and there. Not only did I not see any animals, I wanted to crawl into a ball and possibly pass out. But, FESTIVE! FIGHT IT! I AM IN CHARGE HERE, SAYS MY BRAIN TO MY BODY.
My body just laughed like a group of teenage girls. All annoying like.
The hubby and I finally saw several cars pulled over. The park was pretty crowded with hikers and families walking/chasing their children around, but we hadn't seen any animals yet. This time, people were out of their cars, standing on top of picnic tables, looking down into a ravine. Translation: Something to see!
A large herd of elk! We walked down a little ways to them and watched them for a little while. There were very small calves and a GIANT male with antlers. He was very handsome, sitting in a patch of sunshine.
We got back into the car, and although the fresh air and little walk had helped, my husband wasn't having it. He'd figured out I wasn't feeling so hot due to my weird breathing patterns and all the fidgeting I'd been trying to pass off as just really dramatic gesturing. How sick was I feeling? So sick. Ug! Why! FESTIVE! This was supposed to be our quintessential fall date! Exponentially FESTIVE!
The husband drove us towards the exit, where we passed two elk resting very close to the road. I felt a little bad for them, obviously 2 males, no ladies, lonely...
Then I got on some roll about how, hey, maybe it's a lifestyle choice and they aren't lonely! Maybe they are in loves. You go, Elk! You be your own herd! Follow your hearts! Be proud, Elks!
My husband drove as fast as he thought he could in order to get us home as soon as possible, away from the one-woman-elk-gay-pride-parade I was throwing in the passenger seat. Despite how annoying I was being, he was still trying to drive carefully in order to not to make my motion sickness any worse, which was very sweet. Especially considering I was about 3 seconds away from losing my fight with the filter keeping my favorite Cher song in my head and not in the air all around us.
"Baby, it's all or nothing now! Don't want to run and I can't walk out. You're breaking my heart if you leave me now! Don't wanna wait foreeeveeer-"
Sorry. Sometimes I can't stop the Cher. I was able to hold it in inside the car so I guess it's been waiting to escape since then. On our drive home, I just sort of rested my head against the armrest between my hubby and me. While still in a fully upright seated position. No, it wan't comfy. But, it did help to stop the nausea. So, victory!
The park was beautiful despite our less than stellar time there. The lake, the trees, the sky, the colors. I wish I had been able to enjoy it more.
Next time, Elk Park, next time.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Fall Leaves, If It Ever Arrives!
The hubby has PROMISED to take me to Elk Park either after work this week or this weekend. When we went to see Daniel Tosh, there wasn't one damn tree on the drive that was changing color. And I was looking. I. Was. Looking.
My husband, not making a joke, said, "Hey, I think it's going to be one of those years where we don't have a fall. I saw some trees near work that were losing their leaves. Their green leaves."
So... Then I fought some kind of violent reaction since this is not my husband's fault, although he is the one that made us live here, here I guess being somewhere without my favorite season.
A couple days ago he said, "I can't believe it. I swear September used to be cold! And definitely by October, it always is!" His car had said it was 93 degrees on his drive home.
Oh, shall I clutch my gut and laugh a hearty laugh? So amused, am I? NO. NOT AMUSED.
And then, I took Mav the dog out in the middle of the night, and in my shorts and tank top, thought that it was actually chilly. I took the garbage out yesterday and there were leaves under my feet. Crunch, crunch. They were starting to pile up on the sides of the street. Yellows, browns. Oh my stars! Am I going to be able to turn off the air conditioning?
Checked out my backyard. Still green, green, green. But other backyards, the colors were changing fast. FALL!
So, soon, our next date will be surrounded by all things autumn. Makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside knowing there is a chill in the air. Cider for everyone!
I also found this. And it cemented my fall feelings. I may have shed a tear, so moved I was by this article.
Hey Mom and Dad, don't judge me for this link. Warning: Adult Vocabulary.
I have light up pumpkins. Leaf shaped tableware. A singing plush candy corn. I took out all my grandmother's china from the china cupboard and put in fall themed decor. I'm with you, article! Fall is here finally! And so another date is on the horizon! I can barely sit still. I'm ready to go now! Oh, yeah, I forgot. The hubby has this whole job thing going on and can't just drop that to take me to look at leaves. But he better do it soon, because if fall leaves before I even get to see it arrive, I will be cranky until the Christmas lights come out.
My husband, not making a joke, said, "Hey, I think it's going to be one of those years where we don't have a fall. I saw some trees near work that were losing their leaves. Their green leaves."
So... Then I fought some kind of violent reaction since this is not my husband's fault, although he is the one that made us live here, here I guess being somewhere without my favorite season.
A couple days ago he said, "I can't believe it. I swear September used to be cold! And definitely by October, it always is!" His car had said it was 93 degrees on his drive home.
Oh, shall I clutch my gut and laugh a hearty laugh? So amused, am I? NO. NOT AMUSED.
And then, I took Mav the dog out in the middle of the night, and in my shorts and tank top, thought that it was actually chilly. I took the garbage out yesterday and there were leaves under my feet. Crunch, crunch. They were starting to pile up on the sides of the street. Yellows, browns. Oh my stars! Am I going to be able to turn off the air conditioning?
Checked out my backyard. Still green, green, green. But other backyards, the colors were changing fast. FALL!
So, soon, our next date will be surrounded by all things autumn. Makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside knowing there is a chill in the air. Cider for everyone!
I also found this. And it cemented my fall feelings. I may have shed a tear, so moved I was by this article.
Hey Mom and Dad, don't judge me for this link. Warning: Adult Vocabulary.
I have light up pumpkins. Leaf shaped tableware. A singing plush candy corn. I took out all my grandmother's china from the china cupboard and put in fall themed decor. I'm with you, article! Fall is here finally! And so another date is on the horizon! I can barely sit still. I'm ready to go now! Oh, yeah, I forgot. The hubby has this whole job thing going on and can't just drop that to take me to look at leaves. But he better do it soon, because if fall leaves before I even get to see it arrive, I will be cranky until the Christmas lights come out.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Daniel Tosh Date
Well, I wasn't in the best mood heading over to the Pageant. We'd never been there. What would it be like? Where would we park if everywhere we looked was full? What if I had to pee (I did drink 8 glasses of iced tea prior, because I am a moron)? Would I be able to find the restrooms? AHHHHHH!
Why do I worry about that stuff? I don't know. I just do. The husband calmly and coolly drove us through the Loop and parked in a free, large, public lot behind the Pageant with no problems whatsoever. The only thing concerning was...
I may have gently petted Laura the Aura as I shut her passenger side door, saying my goodbyes. Since I was sure she'd either be violated or disappear altogether by the time we returned. The photo does not give the parking lot the creepy, crime-y vibe it had down so well.
Not wanting to take a picture because of my mood, the hubby finally talked me into one before we got out of the car. I did a smiley happy one and an angry, this-is-the-real-mood-I'm-in, Roar! Roar! one. I don't know why that one turned out kind of like I was trying to be sexy, which I was not. Although I think if I did try, it would also turn out comparable to this. Keep your clothes on, everybody. I know it's a lot of look coming right at cha there. I know, I know, giant foreheads are so hot right now!
Just another reminder about how lucky I am that the husband looks at this every day and hasn't run off yet.
I watched a lot of hippie dippie, arty farty people walking around. I felt older and out of place. But that's okay. I was with the hubby and I like him enough to deal with the crowd (I may sound harsh there, but he was the one who referred to them as a sea of douches, so see? I was being nice!).
Even though he did leave me in the middle of the less-than-comforting parking lot to go back to the car to put his jacket back.
We walked past sketchy looking scalpers (so weird) and were at the venue in a couple minutes. We passed the big black bus that we assumed was Daniel Tosh's ride. The hubby told me to take a picture but there were a lot of employees there and it seemed weird. So I did not. I did take a pic of the Pageant. When you see the pic of the place and stage later, maybe you'll understand why picturing a Disturbed show in that venue kind of blew my mind all over the place.
The second we walked through the doors, a woman had us step out of line and thoroughly padded us down.
She squeezed my butt checks. With a lot of... vigor.
I may have inadvertently dated a girl in college, but that was only because I didn't know it and thought we were friends. A personal visit at my apartment with a bouquet of flowers after I had my wisdom teeth out alerted me to a relationship I did not know I was in. My mother, having driven 4 hours to take care of me for a week, got to be enlightened at the same time as me. Yay. Oh, college. How I don't miss you.
Anyway, I had nothing in my pockets but I guess best be on the safe side. It was still very strange. I've never been overly (or underly, or exactly moderately, whatever that would mean, for the record) padded down before. I wondered if this person was that involved with foreplay in her own life, because wow. Took a lot of time, energy, and effort there, Lady. Then, she did the same thing to my husband, or so he told me, since at that point I was onto dealing with a ticket lady who was less handsy.
My husband said he had never been padded down like that either. Which I found surprising. Hooray for cultural tolerance at airports and other establishments other than the Pageant... Which I think was also tolerant because everyone WAS being treated the same. So it's fine. Just strange.
We got the letter G stamped on our hands because we were over 21. Later that night, at home, I told the hubby he better start mentally telling himself how sexy it is, since mine is going to be on there for the next 2 years. I wondered why G. Because "God damn, we're over 21!" Because it's "great" to be of age? Then I started singing Semisonic's DND in my head because it sound like G and G, and my brain kind of stopped working. Here's my hand now, after many a good scrubbing.
The husband's answer was a lot more logical. He said they must pick a letter randomly at night so that no one knows and therefore can't fake it. Ooooh. That makes sense.
Although, I have to say, thank you, Guy-Who-Demanded-To-See-My-ID-All-Seriously and then inspected it too long with a flashlight up close, all CSI and sh*t. Thank you for acting like I may be 10 years younger than I am. It's like the anti-ma'am. Awwwww. Kisses. I kept them inside, but wanted to do the one cheek, then other cheek, European/Tim Gunn style gesture. Which I don't think the bouncer-hard rock-type guy checking the IDs would have appreciated in the manner it was meant.
The Pageant was pretty interesting. A lot smaller and more intimate than I had anticipated. Lots of chairs were set up and we had help finding our seats. 4 or 5 high school boys were seated directly behind us and gave me violent fantasies...
As in, fantasies of me violently killing them. They did not take a breath the entire 45 minutes before the show started. And although I guess they were "friends", all they did was bash each other and talk and talk and talk and it was infuriating. I know they were high schoolers (spell check just tried to make that SCHOLARS! Whoa, spell check, you are MISTAKEN) from all their talk about high school, homecoming, teachers, Facebook, girls, boasts, brags, put downs, REALLY ANNOYING HIGH PITCHED FAKE LAUGHING, and just really awesome zingers. Yes, that was sarcasm. I almost had the husband get me something alcoholic. But then I was afraid I might actually punch a group of 11th graders and I don't see how the judge is going to understand how necessary it was. And the hubby would have had to come to my rescue and we would not have gotten to see Daniel Tosh.
The only redeeming audience quality was the couple next to us. The guy chit chatted with me while his wife was away for a couple minutes. He was super bald by choice as evidenced by the bandaid on the back of his head and he was a big, muscle-y guy who could have easily been an intimidating Mr. Clean. Once he turned to me and spoke, his eyes got all crinkly LIKE SANTA. He was so nice and genuinely seemed to be just a friendly, kind, happy-go-lucky guy. That helped settle me down. He said his wife had gotten these tickets for their anniversary and he was really happy about it. They looked really happy together. Awww. He asked if we were big fans of Daniel Tosh and I answered, "A little bit" because I don't get out much and I'm stupid. Why didn't I say, "Yes! We love him!" or something equally true? I don't know. My social interaction practice happens... Now. Lucky guy.
There were 2 opening comics, both pretty good, both doing short sets. Daniel Tosh came out looking basically like he does on his Comedy Central show. Deep V! But over a tee. He admitted right away to being under the weather but he got right into his act and was hilarious. He did over an hour of material and it was great.
The husband and I laughed a lot. I kept covering my face with my hands. He's that kind of funny - you're laughing because it's horrible and you shouldn't be laughing but it's funny because of either it being really wrong or really true or a lot of the time, both... He did material about the kid who died when he was decapitated by the roller coaster earlier this year - the one who jumped not one but 2 heavily labeled security fences to get his hat that had fallen off when he had ridden the coaster... That should not have been funny but he made it impossible not to laugh so hard that it hurt. Decapitation is not funny. I should know - my uncle died in that horrific way when he was in his twenties in a gruesome on-the-job in the line of duty incident as a state trooper. But watching Daniel Tosh, I laughed at decapitation. Yeah. Maybe I'm going to hell, but laughter feels so heavenly!
After the show, the crowd poured out and it was impossible to get in front, or in the middle. We filtered out at the end and walked quickly to the parking lot. Where our car still waited for us, unmolested! We got to enjoy sitting in that lot for about 20 minutes, as my earlier stress transferred to my husband as he lost his patience with what can only be described as the worst drivers in Missouri or possibly America attempted to all leave the parking lot at once. There was A LOT of honking. Once we made it onto the street, we were good. Home we went, exhausted, remembering too well why so many of our dates happen before 10 at night.
Why do I worry about that stuff? I don't know. I just do. The husband calmly and coolly drove us through the Loop and parked in a free, large, public lot behind the Pageant with no problems whatsoever. The only thing concerning was...
I may have gently petted Laura the Aura as I shut her passenger side door, saying my goodbyes. Since I was sure she'd either be violated or disappear altogether by the time we returned. The photo does not give the parking lot the creepy, crime-y vibe it had down so well.
Just another reminder about how lucky I am that the husband looks at this every day and hasn't run off yet.
I watched a lot of hippie dippie, arty farty people walking around. I felt older and out of place. But that's okay. I was with the hubby and I like him enough to deal with the crowd (I may sound harsh there, but he was the one who referred to them as a sea of douches, so see? I was being nice!).
Even though he did leave me in the middle of the less-than-comforting parking lot to go back to the car to put his jacket back.
I assured him when he returned that I had not been robbed or beaten or anything. Lucked out there, Buddy! I would have been so mad at him!
We walked past sketchy looking scalpers (so weird) and were at the venue in a couple minutes. We passed the big black bus that we assumed was Daniel Tosh's ride. The hubby told me to take a picture but there were a lot of employees there and it seemed weird. So I did not. I did take a pic of the Pageant. When you see the pic of the place and stage later, maybe you'll understand why picturing a Disturbed show in that venue kind of blew my mind all over the place.
The second we walked through the doors, a woman had us step out of line and thoroughly padded us down.
She squeezed my butt checks. With a lot of... vigor.
I may have inadvertently dated a girl in college, but that was only because I didn't know it and thought we were friends. A personal visit at my apartment with a bouquet of flowers after I had my wisdom teeth out alerted me to a relationship I did not know I was in. My mother, having driven 4 hours to take care of me for a week, got to be enlightened at the same time as me. Yay. Oh, college. How I don't miss you.
Anyway, I had nothing in my pockets but I guess best be on the safe side. It was still very strange. I've never been overly (or underly, or exactly moderately, whatever that would mean, for the record) padded down before. I wondered if this person was that involved with foreplay in her own life, because wow. Took a lot of time, energy, and effort there, Lady. Then, she did the same thing to my husband, or so he told me, since at that point I was onto dealing with a ticket lady who was less handsy.
My husband said he had never been padded down like that either. Which I found surprising. Hooray for cultural tolerance at airports and other establishments other than the Pageant... Which I think was also tolerant because everyone WAS being treated the same. So it's fine. Just strange.
We got the letter G stamped on our hands because we were over 21. Later that night, at home, I told the hubby he better start mentally telling himself how sexy it is, since mine is going to be on there for the next 2 years. I wondered why G. Because "God damn, we're over 21!" Because it's "great" to be of age? Then I started singing Semisonic's DND in my head because it sound like G and G, and my brain kind of stopped working. Here's my hand now, after many a good scrubbing.
Ooo! Ooo! *Squirms and bounces in seat. I know, I know!
It must stand for "giggles" because it was a comedy show!
The husband's answer was a lot more logical. He said they must pick a letter randomly at night so that no one knows and therefore can't fake it. Ooooh. That makes sense.
Although, I have to say, thank you, Guy-Who-Demanded-To-See-My-ID-All-Seriously and then inspected it too long with a flashlight up close, all CSI and sh*t. Thank you for acting like I may be 10 years younger than I am. It's like the anti-ma'am. Awwwww. Kisses. I kept them inside, but wanted to do the one cheek, then other cheek, European/Tim Gunn style gesture. Which I don't think the bouncer-hard rock-type guy checking the IDs would have appreciated in the manner it was meant.
The Pageant was pretty interesting. A lot smaller and more intimate than I had anticipated. Lots of chairs were set up and we had help finding our seats. 4 or 5 high school boys were seated directly behind us and gave me violent fantasies...
As in, fantasies of me violently killing them. They did not take a breath the entire 45 minutes before the show started. And although I guess they were "friends", all they did was bash each other and talk and talk and talk and it was infuriating. I know they were high schoolers (spell check just tried to make that SCHOLARS! Whoa, spell check, you are MISTAKEN) from all their talk about high school, homecoming, teachers, Facebook, girls, boasts, brags, put downs, REALLY ANNOYING HIGH PITCHED FAKE LAUGHING, and just really awesome zingers. Yes, that was sarcasm. I almost had the husband get me something alcoholic. But then I was afraid I might actually punch a group of 11th graders and I don't see how the judge is going to understand how necessary it was. And the hubby would have had to come to my rescue and we would not have gotten to see Daniel Tosh.
The only redeeming audience quality was the couple next to us. The guy chit chatted with me while his wife was away for a couple minutes. He was super bald by choice as evidenced by the bandaid on the back of his head and he was a big, muscle-y guy who could have easily been an intimidating Mr. Clean. Once he turned to me and spoke, his eyes got all crinkly LIKE SANTA. He was so nice and genuinely seemed to be just a friendly, kind, happy-go-lucky guy. That helped settle me down. He said his wife had gotten these tickets for their anniversary and he was really happy about it. They looked really happy together. Awww. He asked if we were big fans of Daniel Tosh and I answered, "A little bit" because I don't get out much and I'm stupid. Why didn't I say, "Yes! We love him!" or something equally true? I don't know. My social interaction practice happens... Now. Lucky guy.
There were 2 opening comics, both pretty good, both doing short sets. Daniel Tosh came out looking basically like he does on his Comedy Central show. Deep V! But over a tee. He admitted right away to being under the weather but he got right into his act and was hilarious. He did over an hour of material and it was great.
The stage! Nice! Not a bad view in the place, I think.
After the show, the crowd poured out and it was impossible to get in front, or in the middle. We filtered out at the end and walked quickly to the parking lot. Where our car still waited for us, unmolested! We got to enjoy sitting in that lot for about 20 minutes, as my earlier stress transferred to my husband as he lost his patience with what can only be described as the worst drivers in Missouri or possibly America attempted to all leave the parking lot at once. There was A LOT of honking. Once we made it onto the street, we were good. Home we went, exhausted, remembering too well why so many of our dates happen before 10 at night.
And like the elderly couple that we are, we fell into bed quickly and with lots of sighs and cracking joints, and we talked about how nice our bed feels. Then the sound of his snoring floated softly into the air and my insomnia took a much deserved break. I love blankets, pillows, warm kitties, the feel of my dog sleeping against my legs, and the sound of my husband's snoring. Last night, there was nothing in the entire world that I ever have loved or could ever love more.
A Deer, A Bear, A Horse, A Pegasus?
I had grand illusions of possibly being productive today. Might do a little of this, scratch a little of that off of the to-do list... Was gonna take my time to get ready for our date tonight. Ooooo. Ahhhh.
Of course, I also had a very full DVR. And all day Monday and Tuesday, I may not have super cleaned, but it was pretty close. The only things I didn't do were things like move the furniture around to clean under everything and swiffer the ceilings. Which I did last week. So, all in all, I had a nice, clean house.
You know how I was a nurse? In long term care. Long. Term. Care. In not the nicest places. I also have had pets my whole life, although not as many at one time as the hubby and I have had these past couple years. And, once, as a girl, my folks boarded a horse for me at a cattle farm for about 2 years (don't get the wrong idea there - it was an old, cheap horse, but I was so happy!). I also had a childhood friend who lived on a pig farm long before that. My point is, I have smelled smells my whole life. I am not unfamiliar with sh*tty smells. Literally and figuratively.
Yeah. Foreshadowing is a little too subtle a word for what I just did there, I know.
I let Mav, our Weimaraner, out into the backyard. I always go out with her and walk around, making sure she isn't barking at kids and bothering people in general. Making sure she's happy and not getting into anything. Watching for any thrown beer bottles on the ground from the neighbors. Protecting the squirrels. Not that they need it - the world's most mentally and/or physically disabled squirrel could still elude good ole Mav. Making sure there isn't a new lake hiding in our lawn from the other neighbor drowning his above ground pool under the fence just so. Creating a swampy, muddy mess in a large section of our backyard. Not today, thankfully.
Well, this morning, I came back to the house fairly quickly after watching Mav and picking up her business. I was calling Mav. Enticing her with the words "num nums" a few times. Usually she has pretty good recall with that promise of treats.
I came up the stairs, opened the door, and came inside. I went to grab her a treat. Usually she is already on my heels by this point and at the door... Hmm...
I turned to see her still out in the yard, far out in the yard, and she was doing something not out of character for her. She was smelling, then pawing, then shoving her head whole hog into the ground. The front of her followed, down she went, roll, roll, roll in whatever smell she had fallen so in love with. It's happened plenty of times. I always go to check it out. It's never anything I have been able to see, or smell. Once I think it was possibly one tiny, solitary mushroom. Other than that, it's always been invisible, non-human smellable smells. And I have a very delicate sniffer. Smells. I smell them.
Something told me to go out to her. Perhaps it was God. He had my back today, I spose. As I approached, I started to smell it. At first, I thought my brain was playing tricks on me. Then, I saw it.
Had a deer gotten into our backyard?
A bear?
A horse?
Wait, it is unlikely a horse since everything is so well fenced in...
So... A pegasus? Holy sh*t. Exclamation curse AND actual crap.
Mav was rolling in the largest, foulest, blackest pile of tar-consistency sh*t that I had ever seen. Or smelled. I have never smelled anything like this. Ever. And. She. Was. Covered. Even the underside of her collar was covered in sh*t. Not that I figured that out until later (after dragging her straight inside, through the house, and into the tub by her collar).
Ewwwwwwwwwww. Never. In. My. Life.
I hosed her off, then me, then Clorox wiped any surface and doorknob I may or may not have touched on our straight shot to the tub. Am still doing the mountain of laundry of towels. The shower curtain in case she touched it while I grabbed her shampoo.
Later, I get to try to pretty myself up for our date tonight. Yay. Ug. There is no way to make this girl presentable today. Had to wash my hair too early to take any care with it, blah blah blah, 8 glasses of iced tea, blah blah blah, sloppy joes for supper, blah blah blah. Did I brush my teeth today? Better do that.
Oh, I mean, candlelight and poetry and soft loving whispers. Spanx. Lipstick. Okay, lip gloss. Okay, okay, Chapstick. Gettin' in the dating zone...
IS IMPOSSIBLE!
I say presentable tonight will be wearing a bra out of the house. Wha-la. Fit for a social evening in public. Daniel Tosh, here we come, ready or not (him or us).
Of course, I also had a very full DVR. And all day Monday and Tuesday, I may not have super cleaned, but it was pretty close. The only things I didn't do were things like move the furniture around to clean under everything and swiffer the ceilings. Which I did last week. So, all in all, I had a nice, clean house.
You know how I was a nurse? In long term care. Long. Term. Care. In not the nicest places. I also have had pets my whole life, although not as many at one time as the hubby and I have had these past couple years. And, once, as a girl, my folks boarded a horse for me at a cattle farm for about 2 years (don't get the wrong idea there - it was an old, cheap horse, but I was so happy!). I also had a childhood friend who lived on a pig farm long before that. My point is, I have smelled smells my whole life. I am not unfamiliar with sh*tty smells. Literally and figuratively.
Yeah. Foreshadowing is a little too subtle a word for what I just did there, I know.
I let Mav, our Weimaraner, out into the backyard. I always go out with her and walk around, making sure she isn't barking at kids and bothering people in general. Making sure she's happy and not getting into anything. Watching for any thrown beer bottles on the ground from the neighbors. Protecting the squirrels. Not that they need it - the world's most mentally and/or physically disabled squirrel could still elude good ole Mav. Making sure there isn't a new lake hiding in our lawn from the other neighbor drowning his above ground pool under the fence just so. Creating a swampy, muddy mess in a large section of our backyard. Not today, thankfully.
Well, this morning, I came back to the house fairly quickly after watching Mav and picking up her business. I was calling Mav. Enticing her with the words "num nums" a few times. Usually she has pretty good recall with that promise of treats.
I came up the stairs, opened the door, and came inside. I went to grab her a treat. Usually she is already on my heels by this point and at the door... Hmm...
I turned to see her still out in the yard, far out in the yard, and she was doing something not out of character for her. She was smelling, then pawing, then shoving her head whole hog into the ground. The front of her followed, down she went, roll, roll, roll in whatever smell she had fallen so in love with. It's happened plenty of times. I always go to check it out. It's never anything I have been able to see, or smell. Once I think it was possibly one tiny, solitary mushroom. Other than that, it's always been invisible, non-human smellable smells. And I have a very delicate sniffer. Smells. I smell them.
Something told me to go out to her. Perhaps it was God. He had my back today, I spose. As I approached, I started to smell it. At first, I thought my brain was playing tricks on me. Then, I saw it.
Had a deer gotten into our backyard?
A bear?
A horse?
Wait, it is unlikely a horse since everything is so well fenced in...
So... A pegasus? Holy sh*t. Exclamation curse AND actual crap.
Mav was rolling in the largest, foulest, blackest pile of tar-consistency sh*t that I had ever seen. Or smelled. I have never smelled anything like this. Ever. And. She. Was. Covered. Even the underside of her collar was covered in sh*t. Not that I figured that out until later (after dragging her straight inside, through the house, and into the tub by her collar).
Ewwwwwwwwwww. Never. In. My. Life.
I hosed her off, then me, then Clorox wiped any surface and doorknob I may or may not have touched on our straight shot to the tub. Am still doing the mountain of laundry of towels. The shower curtain in case she touched it while I grabbed her shampoo.
Later, I get to try to pretty myself up for our date tonight. Yay. Ug. There is no way to make this girl presentable today. Had to wash my hair too early to take any care with it, blah blah blah, 8 glasses of iced tea, blah blah blah, sloppy joes for supper, blah blah blah. Did I brush my teeth today? Better do that.
Oh, I mean, candlelight and poetry and soft loving whispers. Spanx. Lipstick. Okay, lip gloss. Okay, okay, Chapstick. Gettin' in the dating zone...
IS IMPOSSIBLE!
I say presentable tonight will be wearing a bra out of the house. Wha-la. Fit for a social evening in public. Daniel Tosh, here we come, ready or not (him or us).
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Daniel Tosh and Parkour
I am really nervous about the Daniel Tosh show this week. Will we find a parking space? Will he make me laugh so hard I blow snot on the person in front of me? Will we be able to blend in enough so that he doesn't see us and feels the need to make fun of us and possibly make me cry?
I have also decided I am no longer clumsy. Although my busted up left toe, 3 deep wounds on the side of my right foot, scratches on the back of my left shoulder, and colorful kaleidoscope of bruises on all my limbs would still have the good foundations of a solid argument. Too bad none of those injuries were caused at the same time (midnight walking into something large and painful, cat getting under my feet while I was walking, various, various, various).
I mean, from now on, I am not clumsy. Next time I try to step over the coffee table after getting up from the couch, trying to bypass my husband's feet up on one side of me and my giant dog taking up space on the other side of me, I will yell "Parkour!" as I land all haphazard and score new bruises. Bruises that are just bright reminders of my new Parkour hobby. Parkour!
Will I yell "Parkour!" in front of Daniel Tosh?
Stay tuned for the answers to this and so many other mind numbingly... numbing questions!
And if you are wondering what Parkour! is go here and then here!
I have also decided I am no longer clumsy. Although my busted up left toe, 3 deep wounds on the side of my right foot, scratches on the back of my left shoulder, and colorful kaleidoscope of bruises on all my limbs would still have the good foundations of a solid argument. Too bad none of those injuries were caused at the same time (midnight walking into something large and painful, cat getting under my feet while I was walking, various, various, various).
I mean, from now on, I am not clumsy. Next time I try to step over the coffee table after getting up from the couch, trying to bypass my husband's feet up on one side of me and my giant dog taking up space on the other side of me, I will yell "Parkour!" as I land all haphazard and score new bruises. Bruises that are just bright reminders of my new Parkour hobby. Parkour!
Will I yell "Parkour!" in front of Daniel Tosh?
Stay tuned for the answers to this and so many other mind numbingly... numbing questions!
And if you are wondering what Parkour! is go here and then here!
Monday, October 4, 2010
C.U. Day
The husband's cough and congestion are officially back. *Bangs head on desk 3 times.
Invictus has sat on our tv from Netflix for 3 weeks. We watched it yesterday. Contrary to (my) popular belief, it is not about soccer. Excellent movie. Even with all the rugby. I think Nelson Mandela may be a really lovely alien, or at least have some sort of disease that we would all be lucky to get because it gives him so much more humanity than I think is possible.
The weekend passed without our leaving the house. This will definitely need to change in the future. It is way too easy to push "start" on the dishwasher and then claim to have had a productive, fun weekend.
In reality, I don't think we brushed our teeth enough or ate regular meals (jelly stuffed Japanese marshmallows are gone now *sad face). We should have at least changed from our pajamas into other pajamas. Sigh.
We're starting a busy month. This week alone, there's a cat getting 3 stitches removed, an appointment in the early morning hours with an exterminator, and Daniel Tosh. Daniel Tosh is definitely a date, but we're still a the point where it feels a little like work right now. It's at a place with a thing and a set time and we have to be there, all adult and conscious and dressed and parked correctly and on time... Yeah. I'm sure once we get there, in our seats, we'll be happy. Until then, it's a scheduled appointment like all the others.
Sexy Monday time. Today is cat urinalysis day. Yes, you did read that correctly. Have to go in a minute and find and crate a kitty for his urinalysis. Oh joy.
I also need to clean, and do laundry, and go to the grocery store...
I have to be sure to stop when the hubby gets home so I give him a cuddle. So we can each regain some fraction of our sanity. I shouldn't complain. At least I didn't have to get up at four and then go into a job with actual people and actual work. With the interaction and the computers and the meetings... Wow, do I not miss meetings. I would not trade my day with his. Not even on cat urinalysis day.
Invictus has sat on our tv from Netflix for 3 weeks. We watched it yesterday. Contrary to (my) popular belief, it is not about soccer. Excellent movie. Even with all the rugby. I think Nelson Mandela may be a really lovely alien, or at least have some sort of disease that we would all be lucky to get because it gives him so much more humanity than I think is possible.
The weekend passed without our leaving the house. This will definitely need to change in the future. It is way too easy to push "start" on the dishwasher and then claim to have had a productive, fun weekend.
In reality, I don't think we brushed our teeth enough or ate regular meals (jelly stuffed Japanese marshmallows are gone now *sad face). We should have at least changed from our pajamas into other pajamas. Sigh.
We're starting a busy month. This week alone, there's a cat getting 3 stitches removed, an appointment in the early morning hours with an exterminator, and Daniel Tosh. Daniel Tosh is definitely a date, but we're still a the point where it feels a little like work right now. It's at a place with a thing and a set time and we have to be there, all adult and conscious and dressed and parked correctly and on time... Yeah. I'm sure once we get there, in our seats, we'll be happy. Until then, it's a scheduled appointment like all the others.
Sexy Monday time. Today is cat urinalysis day. Yes, you did read that correctly. Have to go in a minute and find and crate a kitty for his urinalysis. Oh joy.
I also need to clean, and do laundry, and go to the grocery store...
I have to be sure to stop when the hubby gets home so I give him a cuddle. So we can each regain some fraction of our sanity. I shouldn't complain. At least I didn't have to get up at four and then go into a job with actual people and actual work. With the interaction and the computers and the meetings... Wow, do I not miss meetings. I would not trade my day with his. Not even on cat urinalysis day.
Friday, October 1, 2010
Honeycombs
Holy sh-Nikes (sha-nike-ees), Batman. October. We've had like one, non-sweltering summer day and now we're expecting frost over the weekend. All the damn leaves are still green and non-fall-like. I haven't gotten to wear boots. Not. Once.
In a couple days, we're seeing Daniel Tosh. I keep forgetting that is happening SOON. It feels like in a second, it'll be all NOW and we'll accidentally be at home, in our pajamas. Watching Running Wilde because we're sure we're the only 2 people on the planet that find it funny and it'll be cancelled soon. And eating toast like it's a snack because we don't have anything snack-y at home and when we put cinnamon sugar on top of the butter, it seems like a viable option. If we squint our eyes real hard and try to get into a cough-syrup induced mental haze, then it's almost like we're eating a really crappy donut.
Or a really awesome piece of toast.
I wonder where I put the tickets to see him.
The hubby's cough and sinuses are acting up again. Will Daniel Tosh make us leave? Will our feelings hurt more than our sinuses? *Sad, horrified face.
And is my body trying to tell me something? My taste buds aren't working again. I got to open a new box of cereal this morning, and I opened my cupboard of waiting boxes...
Usually, I say something genius-y like "Wow. I really like all these!" in surprise. Which is stupid since I AM THE ONE WHO BOUGHT ALL THE CEREAL AND WHO EATS ALL THE CEREAL ON A DAILY BASIS.
This morning, the boxes all seemed blah except for the Honeycomb. Honeycomb goes fast around here. Even the hubby takes handfuls of it to snack on whenever he walks through the kitchen.
I had the thought MAYBE I SHOULD SAVE THE HONEYCOMB. I don't know why. For a rainy day? For the future was as far as my mind went. Like I needed to save it for a special occasion that was going to happen later.
As if maybe we'd never have more Honeycomb. But I like Honeycomb! See my dilemma?
Then, I thought, "What if I die?" I will have wished I'd had the Honeycomb. WHAT IF I DIE. SOON. Like after breakfast.
So I happily opened the Honeycomb, which still tastes like Honeycomb, although milk does not taste like milk. At first I was all, maybe the milk went bad, but by the end of the bowl, I deemed it organic and forgave it, thinking it was tasty. Gee, we've only been getting this brand and % of milk since last December. It is possible I would forget what it tastes like...
And I fought with all my might to push it back in my brain, gave myself a nice pile of excuses. You need caffeine! It's so early - ha ha! You didn't get any sleep again! You're a funny lady full of quirkiness, which makes you so awesome and lovable! You do really like cereal! You and the hubby are still somehow kind of, slightly, a little bit sick!
Still, really, Self? You're going to die and you want Honeycombs? That's the thing you think of? If this is your last hour or two on earth? HONEYCOMBS. Having Honeycombs is the big finale? Captain Crunch would have ruined your last meal?
My seize the day, triumphant-fist-pumping-last-lap IS HONEYCOMBS. Oh God.
Somehow this translated into action. I had a second bowl of Honeycombs. Like that would make me less stupid about this whole thing happening in here (*taps on forehead).
If I really thought I was about to die, wouldn't I eat like a tub of cake frosting from the cupboard? Or those Japanese marshmallow things I bought for my brother but ended up opening and eating yesterday?
In a couple days, we're seeing Daniel Tosh. I keep forgetting that is happening SOON. It feels like in a second, it'll be all NOW and we'll accidentally be at home, in our pajamas. Watching Running Wilde because we're sure we're the only 2 people on the planet that find it funny and it'll be cancelled soon. And eating toast like it's a snack because we don't have anything snack-y at home and when we put cinnamon sugar on top of the butter, it seems like a viable option. If we squint our eyes real hard and try to get into a cough-syrup induced mental haze, then it's almost like we're eating a really crappy donut.
Or a really awesome piece of toast.
I wonder where I put the tickets to see him.
The hubby's cough and sinuses are acting up again. Will Daniel Tosh make us leave? Will our feelings hurt more than our sinuses? *Sad, horrified face.
And is my body trying to tell me something? My taste buds aren't working again. I got to open a new box of cereal this morning, and I opened my cupboard of waiting boxes...
Usually, I say something genius-y like "Wow. I really like all these!" in surprise. Which is stupid since I AM THE ONE WHO BOUGHT ALL THE CEREAL AND WHO EATS ALL THE CEREAL ON A DAILY BASIS.
This morning, the boxes all seemed blah except for the Honeycomb. Honeycomb goes fast around here. Even the hubby takes handfuls of it to snack on whenever he walks through the kitchen.
I had the thought MAYBE I SHOULD SAVE THE HONEYCOMB. I don't know why. For a rainy day? For the future was as far as my mind went. Like I needed to save it for a special occasion that was going to happen later.
As if maybe we'd never have more Honeycomb. But I like Honeycomb! See my dilemma?
Then, I thought, "What if I die?" I will have wished I'd had the Honeycomb. WHAT IF I DIE. SOON. Like after breakfast.
So I happily opened the Honeycomb, which still tastes like Honeycomb, although milk does not taste like milk. At first I was all, maybe the milk went bad, but by the end of the bowl, I deemed it organic and forgave it, thinking it was tasty. Gee, we've only been getting this brand and % of milk since last December. It is possible I would forget what it tastes like...
And I fought with all my might to push it back in my brain, gave myself a nice pile of excuses. You need caffeine! It's so early - ha ha! You didn't get any sleep again! You're a funny lady full of quirkiness, which makes you so awesome and lovable! You do really like cereal! You and the hubby are still somehow kind of, slightly, a little bit sick!
Still, really, Self? You're going to die and you want Honeycombs? That's the thing you think of? If this is your last hour or two on earth? HONEYCOMBS. Having Honeycombs is the big finale? Captain Crunch would have ruined your last meal?
My seize the day, triumphant-fist-pumping-last-lap IS HONEYCOMBS. Oh God.
Somehow this translated into action. I had a second bowl of Honeycombs. Like that would make me less stupid about this whole thing happening in here (*taps on forehead).
If I really thought I was about to die, wouldn't I eat like a tub of cake frosting from the cupboard? Or those Japanese marshmallow things I bought for my brother but ended up opening and eating yesterday?
Even better than Honeycomb.
Sweet tiny bearded baby Jesus, this is some good sh*t. I opened the strawberry one yesterday. My brain goes, well this is what it would want for its last meal. It = me somehow emotionally removed by my own thought process.
Maybe the 2 bowls of cereal were in my best interest, since I have no room to open and devour this bag and then possibly die a Japanese Marshmallow Death. So the Honeycombs were really in the interest of self preservation.
And I also think my husband has a new cutsy nickname for the day. As in, when he walks through the door, I'm gonna be all "My honey comb! Ooo dodo do do." *Pets his hair. In the future, when he's home from work. Am I psychic? Man, I better not die today.
Watching Castle at 3 am where a medium possibily predicted her own murder = this kind of morning.
This is how my Friday started. For some reason, I do not have high hopes for our weekend.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
