Rise, I say…..RISE!!!

Bringing back Brown Bread Blows would be so much more symbolic if the holiday-around-the-corner was Easter instead of Thanksgiving.

Nevertheless, after endless harassment, BBB is back from the dead.

…and since the upcoming holiday is a time for giving thanks, I am sharing my list of the things I am thankful for (in no particular order):

1.  The 80’s station on Sirius Radio

2.  The Starbucks app on my iPhone

3.  Dog the Bounty Hunter re-runs

4.  Gravy

5.  Scrabble on Facebook

6.  Target’s jewelry section

7.  The power of  TIVO

8.  The heated seats in my car

9.  My keen ability at Fantasy Football

10.  El Quatro

11.  Our lady of Guadalupe

12.  ….and of course, my wonderful, wonderful family that I would be nothing without.  Plus, my “army” of friends that make me “be all that I can be”.  I’m thankful for each and every one of you.

13.  Lip gloss.

Happy Thanksgiving to all !

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The things I do for my family…

Don’t get all excited, people. Brown Bread Blows is not back in session….yet!

I just had a post a pix of my mother-in-law on the web so my brother-in-law could use it as his Fantasy Football logo (Mama’s Boy!).

Here you go, Matt:

The Original Milli Vanilli

Has it truly been almost a month since my last post?  My apologies.  I’ve been occupied….

… like last Friday night I had the pleasure of checking out a play at our community theater.  Nancy G (my friend that introduced me to Spanish Dr Seuss) was starring in a production of “Nunsense” so a few of us gals attended to heckle her show her some support.  She was great!

Being in a hometown theater made me a little nostalgic. When I was young, my mother enrolled me in children’s theater workshops during summer vacations. From about eight years old until eleven, I spent all my June, July, & Augusts practicing lines, rehearsing songs and perfecting dance moves (we did mostly musicals).  Acting came very easy for me so it wasn’t a big surprise when I was asked to audition for parts in the theater’s regular season shows as well.

At nine years old I tried out for the role of  little Mary Morgan in a production called “Ten Nights in a Bar Room”.  I can still clearly recall standing by the mailbox awaiting the morning school bus when my grandma hollered out the front door to me announcing that the director had called and I GOT THE PART!

Cast photo 1979

I showed up to the first rehearsal with my chest all puffed out and feeling very confident.  I had made the cut and was now standing as an equal to the adults on the stage! I would have a bio printed in the program! I was a star!

 Now here is where this story takes somewhat of a nosedive. At this first rehearsal I am informed that while I hit the reading out of the park for little Mary’s part, my singing voice was more like a foul ball.  The director felt that I was just too good of an actress to pass up and creatively came up with a solution to my crooning.

I would lip-synch.

That’s right. For the play’s three-week-run, one of the chorus girls sang from the wings as I lip-synched my way around the stage. 

And just like Milli Vanilli, it must have been genius because I was nominated AND WON a grammy the Best Supporting Actress award for that season’s run of productions. 

As I look back now though, I’m horribly emberassed that I didn’t share the glory with my “voice-over”.  It’s been 20 years, but I’m almost willing to bet that I remember her name: Kimberly Cade.  I contemplated looking for her via the world-wide-web and expressing my gratitude and giving her the kudos she deserved for my award, but I couldn’t quite word my approach email in a way that didn’t make me seem like I’ve been dwelling on this since I was nine.

So, Kimberly Cade if you’re out there, thanks for being my wind from within the wings.

My way of thinking

I was thinking yesterday… and this is how it went:

*  My friend  Ann, and I were talking about musical tastes and she said she listens to bluegrass (Don’t judge her. I think it’s by proxy).

* Which made me think of the movie Deliverance.

* Then I remembered this:

Ned Beatty and the blond Me

* I recalled too, as I posed for this picture having to bite my tongue not to whisper “Squeal like a pig” in his ear.

* My head then thought “pig = bacon”

* My 3 year old daughter, Maris, greeted me at the door after work last week with “Mommy, did you bring home the bacon?”

* Maris LOVES American Idol nights at our house because Maselli’s kids come over. She’s finally dropped her insistance of moving in with them.

* American Idol then made me think of my pal Jonice’s comment about Blind Guy:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She said “Everytime he looks in the camera, I think he’s trying to hypnotize me!”   I seriously laughed for five minutes.

* That made me think about how my friend Megan thinks she can control traffic with her mind.  She also voted for Obama, which explains a lot.

* I then was very grateful that I live in a city that has no traffic issues.  My longest time ever idling in a car is in the Starbuck’s line.

* Which reminded me that yet another friend, Lauren, walks to get her coffee, sometimes calling me on the way. That’s probably why she’s skinnier than me… although at least I have the bulk not to end up in a leg brace for a month just from serving a volleyball.

* Then I started contemplating rounding up some friends to play volleyball in a city league again. I’d definately have to recruit all my tall chums, like Bread & Phin. 

* I wonder if there’s something I can do to make myself taller? Maybe I could use one of those contraptions that allows you to hang upside down in doorways.

* Should I ask for one of those for my birthday?

* Which fondly reminds me of my birthday last year when Dr. Marc had a few drinks at a charity event and bought a birdhouse. Good thing it’s a great birdhouse or I’d never hear the end of it.

* And I got to live out my dream of singing kareoke at the worst dive bar in town that same night. Proof:

 

 

 

 

 

 

   

 

 

 Huge thanks to Phin for sharing the stage with me and agreeing to sing Bon Jovi. 

*  Then I thought if I bought Ann a Bon Jovi cd,  would she stop listening to bluegrass?

The Easter Bunny? Oh, you mean that child-eating vermin whose whiskers will poke your eye out?!

Easter’s right around the corner; time for dying the eggs, devouring all the Marshmallow Peeps, weaving your way through all the potted lilies at the grocery store, and for me to get out of town to escape the chaos.

I’ve never been a big fan of the Easter holiday. For one thing, it always lands on a Sunday which cheats me the opportunity to have a free day off of work. Plus, there were those atrocious dresses my mother used to make me wear for that one day a year. The tons of floor-length lace and fluff  always impeded me from gathering the most eggs during family hunts and the day would always end in tears and potato salad. Who looks forward to that?!

Then there’s all the pressure of decorating Easter eggs.  Now that I have children, I have the burden of boiling cartons and cartons of eggs and spending weeks cleaning food coloring out of my grout. Again…who looks forward to that?!

I was flipping through some old pictures and came across one that just might truly be the root of all my Easter issues. Let me present, ladies and gentlemen, Exhibit A:

This is me (the toddler) and my mother God-knows-where.  I know the first thing that probably strikes you is my clashing outfit of horizontal and vertical stripes, but give me a break.  I couldn’t dress myself  back then!

… But did you notice the HUGE HARE to my right?  His ears look like tentacles and he’s wearing a bib!

I don’t recall taking this photo. I’m sure the event has been blocked from my memory due to trauma.

Therefore, due to my childhood-borne phobia of Easter, I am hitting the road and heading to San Diego for spring break;  basking in the sun, taking the kids to the zoo & Legoland, splashing at the waterpark…. I can look forward to that!

I’m a bookie…There, I said it!

I’m a bookie, a bibliophile, a bookworm, a reader.

I’ve been on some sort of reading roll for the last 4 years or so. Of course  I read in high school, but once I graduated and it wasn’t required, I put a halt to anything bound. My reading was then limited to the newspaper and an occasional Rolling Stone.

But now I’m a proud member of two book clubs (The Spinecrackers and The LitWits),  Swaptree, and yes even the library! Seriously, friends, I have the card to prove it.

The great thing is is that books are a cheap, cheap form of relaxation and entertainment. The library doesn’t cost a thing (unless you’re like my friend Maselli and don’t return the books on time and would need to take out a second mortgage to pay your overdue fines) and if you use sites like Swaptree you can trade books for just the cost of postage.  Reading as a hobby is very cost-efficient for me… until now.

This love of books I have has turned me obsessive over a silly gadget. I shouldn’t label it silly.  It’s ingenious, really. It’s also sleek, lovely, handy, revolutionary, and super cool.  May I present to you… The Kindle 2

The Kindle 2 is basically an Ipod for books.  Ever since Amazon introduced her predecessor, I’ve been like a child drooling outside the window of an ice cream shop.  The concept is nifty, the design is attractive, but the price is steep… $350 steep!

I’m considering a Kindle 2 carwash to raise the funds because I know my husband would keel over with a heart attack if I bought one (even though we always have to keep up on the latest Nintendo-this and XBox-that for him).  I’m tempted to sit with the bums at the Taco Bell parking lot with a sign that says “Will work for a Kindle”, but I’m a little nervous there might be some sort of hobo territory I may infringe upon and get shanked. 

So for now I can only dream… dream with my fingers crossed that the book fairy will hook me up.  YOU HEAR ME, FAIRY?!

Promises, promises…

Five days.

Just five days.

That’s how long my lenten coffee deprivation promise lasted.  Pathetic, I know.

I could blame my demise on a lot of things, but the finger always points back to me anyway.  I should have endured, persevered, fought through the yearnings and the aroma coming from my work’s break room… but I didn’t.  I found myself in the  Starbucks drive-thru on my way to work, suddenly regretful as I pulled to the speaker, but a van pulled up behind me and I took it as a sign that God just wanted me to go ahead and get my coffee. 

So on the fifth day I drank coffee…. and it was good.

A few of you have also been asking what happened to my verbal promise to write on this blog every other day.  I love to write, but sometimes nothing comes to mind worth sharing.  I mean, do you really want to hear about kindergarten yard duty, my neighbor’s barking dogs, my noisy dryer, the daily cold lunch vs hot lunch battle, or my anxiety over my income tax return?

In spite of my recent commitment failures,  I’m going to get back on the saddle and pinky swear again.  This time (in writing) I’m going to promise to blog every 5th day in honor of my ultimate coffee fast.  Satisfied?  On the occasion that I write even more often then consider it a bonus…. and if you want to encourage me in my stick-to-it-ivness, THEN COMMENT.  Everyone loves a critic… even me.

Til Tuesday then…

American Idol Round #2 & my Lenten promise

I’m so embarrassed.  Casey Carlson was not AT ALL the racehorse I predicted in last week’s American Idol sing-off.  I guess the hair bands were in fact all she had going for her.

So tonight is a new night of Idol-ness; 12 new contestants squaring off.  I’m hesitant to even predict who’ll be thumbs up vs thumbs down, but I think Matt Giraud will probably be a shoe-in.  We’re having some friends over to watch the show under shades of libations,  so it’s completely possible I’ll be thinking the performances are better than they are anyway.

Today is the first day of Lent and I gave up coffee.  For the next 40 days I hope to handle my mocha-fix withdrawal without violence nor breakdown. I’ve already bitten my nails to the quick and have drank more diet soda today than ever before, but it’s all in the name of God, right? 

I can’t be held responsible for the bitter posts and writings coming out of this blog for the next 40 days.  Pray for me, people.

Succotash!

Who watched American Idol last night?

I did and I’m super baffled.

Jamar Rogers has been my pick since the initial auditions and somehow, someway he got the boot last night. Huh?

I won’t even begin to analyze the judges’ thoughts behind their final picks. I understand they need a well rounded group of 36 to hit the TV spotlight and I get the need to “entertain” at the same time (ie: Nick Mitchell & Tatiana), but I still thought Jamar deserved a spot.  Succotash!

So now what do I have to look forward to next week?  Since my pony is out of the race, I have to choose a new darling. But the choices….

Of course, Danny Gokey comes to mind, although I can’t figure out if I like him for him or for his story.  Everyone I know can’t get enough of Matt Giraud and yeah, I like him too, but I don’t want to bandwagon jumper.  None of the females have me under their spell, but I’m gonna go out on a limb and pick a wallflower (since it’s always the people that fly under the radar that win anyway).

Ok, my revised choice for American Idol Season 8 is….

…. Casey Carlson.

I can’t remember what she sounds like, but I like her hair bands and that’s gotta count for something, right?

Thinking & Counting

I’ve been counting my blessings for the last few days and I’ve come to a self-surprising calculation.

I’m REALLY frickin’ lucky.

Normalcy is to go about my days stressing about my job, my schedule, my kids’ runny noses, the dinner menu, deadlines, my kindergartner’s classroom behavior, my constant empty gas tank, shopping for birthdays, reading the book for book club, my mouth’s attraction to my fingernails, the extra pounds I gained over the holidays.

Basically, I never stop to smell the roses and it makes me so sorry that it took a tragedy for me to see that.

One of my dearest friends passed away over the weekend. Something sudden, shocking, took her from us and it’s still hard to get our heads around it all. I’ve been aching for God to say, “Psyche” and give her back . I’ve been praying that the doctors got it all wrong and she’s gonna call and invite me to the movies, that she’ll show up to bunko just like normal. I’ve been hoping it’s just a big, big mistake … but I know it’s not.

There are so many things that I need to thank this friend for: she revived my schoolgirl crush on Rick Springfield, she made me more compassionate to animals, she shared my love of county fair fried foods, she was a great Wii competitor, she actually listened when I vented, she prodded me to be more community involved, she made my children Halloween bags although she had no children of her own, she’d send me thank-you notes for the silliest things, she supported all my hairbrained endeavors, she let me in her life, and she’s made me count my blessings.

Saying the casual “I love you” to my husband as we go our separate ways to work or at bedtime seems so trivial now. Kissing my children and reminding them to “Be good” when I drop them off is insufficient. Telling my friends “See you later” as we part just doesn’t seem enough because now I have worries that those lazy habitual phrases may be the last we share.  I need my family and friends to know that they matter to me, that the things they do with and for me make me fortunate. Everywhere I turn right now there’s a shoulder to lean on or a hand to hold to give me some comfort through this loss and it marvels me that I take all these friends for granted every single day. It’s not intentional, of course. I adore my friends and make a lot of time for them, but through the laughter of fun times and memory making I’ve never been struck to say, “I am so blessed to have you in my life” or “You really matter to me”. Most of them would probably think I was off my rocker to blurt out such a thing or think these compliments came with certain obligations (ie: guilting them into helping me with yet another one of my upcoming projects).

But I’m saying  to you all now, with no fear of puzzled expressions nor expectations of favors in return, that I love you all for being part of “me”. I love that you’ve encouraged me, laughed with me, shared with me, and have reached out to me. I feel so very prosperous in my circle of friends and family and appreciate you all in my life. I’m sorry that I’ve never confirmed that you knew what you each mean to me. I won’t be caught off gaurd again, wondering as I am now if she knew how much better I was for knowing her.

Like I said, I’ve been counting my blessings and want you to know you are one of them.