Sounds For The Soul

Music is an interesting thing for me. It has to hit my heart and my soul in a very specific way. The list that makes it there is a select one. And no one enters without the proper handshake for me. I have to understand the beat combined with the tune combined with the syncopation combined with the melody combined with the harmony combined with the lyrics combined with the..... It all has to fall together just right and be "me".

Like friends - Once you make it onto the A list, you're on for good. But the A list is hard to get on.

A few just soar there instantly. Eva Cassidy is one that made it almost instantly. I first heard her in a cute, antique-y, kitch-y shop in Seattle with friend, B. B fell in love instantly and bought the CD. It took a bit longer from me.

A few months later, was in the car with Bro and same artist was in his CD player. Bro told me the story:

Eva Cassidy died in 1996 at the age of 33 of melanoma before gaining widespread popularity. While almost all of her works were released posthumously, today her soul-stirring voice is reaching people all over the world. Remakes include: Fields Of Gold (Sting), Wade In The Water, Autumn Leaves, Songbird, Time Is A Healer, People Get Ready (Rod Steward and others), Over The Rainbow, Drowning In The Sea Of Love, True Colors, The Water Is Wide, God Bless The Child, Yesterday, and on and on and on and on and on.

NPR has covered her extensively and probably gives the most interesting perspective on her life, death, and repretoire.

Take a listen. She sang just to fill her own heart. She's deep and soulful and introspective and singing just to sing.

Some is stuff you can sing with. Other is just stuff you want to listen to over and over to give your soul a calmness you weren't sure existed in this world. Music, like childrens' laughter, is good proof and a reminder to me that the calm I'm looking for is always there...If I remember to look.

I needed that today. It is a gift for me to be reminded that things like Eva Cassidy and H's laughs will always be there. Long beyond corporate hierarchies, and spreadsheets, and bills, and to do lists, and mortgages.

This is the stuff life is about.

Is This What Has Become Of It?

Went to dinner at a local pizza joint this evening. On the way to the loo, passed a table full of Girl Scouts. Long table. 8 girls (ages 8-10 I'd say) all decked out in their uniforms. Two mothers at one end of the table. And one male (father-ish looking, but can't be sure) at the other end.

As I pass, I hear the man talking to the group about "insurance" and "property tax".

Is this REALLY what Girl Scouts has become?? Badges in my day were something like "fire making" and "needle point". Now? Looks like we've moved on to "investment banking" and "smart real estate".

Please tell me I was just passing a Dad with a really bad idea of what entertains children.

Is there no such thing as childhood anymore?

Pattygal's G-Ma's Washing Machine

So, I got my washing machine from Pattygal a few years back when she moved to Honolulu. It was a lovely goldenrod color from the 70s and had belonged to her grandmother. It worked splendidly for several years although it did threaten to shimmy-shake all over the place now and then.

So, a few weeks back it started to skip cycles. Like - Would wash but not rinse. Or would spin but not wash. For a few weeks I could force a wash cycle, turn/turn/turn the dial to a rinse cycles, and turn/turn/turn the dial to a spin cycle. Then those cycles started shorting out electrically. I kept forcing, and got a few more good cycles. Finally, there was no more forcing and I was left with a big, ol' washing machine full of water.

After a few days, a washing machine full of water beings to smell like ass when you get close. Then, it begins to smell like ass even when not close. Then, it starts to smell like ass crack. Then, 3 day old ass crack. Then, you start smelling 5 day old dirty ass crack when you walk in the door. Finally, you come home to 8 day old, unwashed, stinky, ass crack. THEN, when you being to bail the water out of the washing machine? Rotten egg shoved up an 8 day old, unwashed, stinky, ass crack.

Groooooooooosssssssssss. But - Pattygal's G-Ma's washing machine is now emtpy and stinkless and ready to go to washing machine heaven. Whereever that may be.

I will be running around destinkifying the place. And hope for no ass crack whatsoever.

SEXY - I know!

Airport Watching

People watching at its best:

• Two young guys checking in just in front of me. Dressed kind of funky, but nothing really to draw attention. I hear the agent say "You had an afro??" One guy smiles shyly and gives a "Yeah". I notice they have guitar cases. Now the gate agent informs them the flight to Atlanta is late, and may cause them to miss their connection to Pensacola. They ask their options and realize there are none but to go onto Atlanta and hope for the best. I take a closer look at the guitar cases and see a black-and-white promotional sticker of one of the guys with a HUGE afro. I could SWEAR it said "Pantera". Although they could have been Pantera's grandchildren.......(Note - I've Googled every version of Pantera in Pensacola or "Pantenera" as my brain remembers it on the sticker...To no avail. Feel free to help me out here.)
• At security: Tall, dark haired woman in white pants and brown jacket. I notice her tip-toeing. And tip-toeing. In fact, she never STOPS tip-toeing. Tip-toes as she takes off her stilleto heels and puts them in the bin to send through security. Tip-toes through the body check in front of me. Tip-toes as she gets her things off the belt. And tip-toes all the way to a chair to put her stilettos back on. By now I've determined she's done permanent damage to her Achilles Tendons and is destined to forever walk like a Barbie Doll. (NOTE -- Getting off the plane in Atlanta I hear. "Oooooooooh! My legs hurt just WATCHING her walk, girl!" Me -- "Barbie Doll Girl???" She "Giiiiiirl! YES!!"
• 50ish looking woman standing at the checkin gate. She reminded me of Dr. Evil's girlfriend (from Austin Powers) in a frightening way. Her appearance: a) a short, brown, straight bob with straight across bangs; b) tiny, John Denver, silver framed glasses; c) a green, long, silky, patterned kimono type thing; d) a short, black, fur jacket; e) a green and white, plaid skirt peeking out of the left side slit of the kimono (??); and f) black, patent leather, lace up combat boots. Like a kindergartner who got to dress herself on a Saturday. A sight to behold.
• I always look for possible Mr Trixies in the boarding area. Who knows when he may sit next to me. The only possible suspect is the man with no wedding ring in black jeans, black sweater with a blue button-up underneath, and smart black shoes. I sit in 2a and he sits in 1c. I take a closer look at the smart shoes and realize they are too smart. Then I realize the black jeans are pressed. Then I realize he has that slight lilt in his voice. Sigh....Mr Trixie is gay.
• I'm originally assigned 2b - The aisle. As I am about to sit down, a man tells me he has the window seat, 2a. I realize immediately he's very tall (I'm not) and ask if he'd like the aisle. He eagerly accepts it. As I am getting settled in, I start to notice just how large this man is. Yes - He is very tall, and very broad, but beyond that - he's very, very overweight. He's obviously purchased a first class ticket because he may not fit in coach. I can automatically sense he is trying very hard to be invisible and unobtrusive. He hates that he has to be here, in front of all these people. I suddenly feel somehow guilty for being small. I do my best to help him out. He asks for water and it is placed on the banquette inbetween the seats. I ask for coffee and go to reach for the little extender under the banquette. His leg is so big, it blocks the extender. I look the other way and he moves his leg. I get it in place and say "Is that ok?" He barely smiles and says yes. When we're up, the attendants make their first round for drinks. He opts for nothing; I go for coffe again...This time with Bailey's. They bring around the snacks. He again opts for nothing. I piggishly take TWO packs of those yummy buttery, cinnamon cookies. Again around for drinks. Him nothing - Me another coffee and Bailey's. By now I have to pee. And I know he doesn't want to get up. That would mean undoing his extension, getting up and showing everyone how large he is. I sneak by unobtrusively and get back comfortably in my seat. By now, I'm feeling like a schmuck for ever thinking my jeans were too tight, or butt too big, or about that slight roll over the top of my low riders. This poor man tries for the entire flight to be no one. At the end of the flight, he was so polite. He took my bags down and sincerely thanked me for being a good seat mate. I almost cried.

This was just a few hours. I swear. Airports. If I had taken notes every time I had been in one in my life? I could write the epic novel of the century!

Big Love

I've been waiting for this one on HBO for a while.

I'm fascinated by absurdities. Serial killers, cannibalaism, transgenderedness, hermaprodites, anorexia, bulimia, obesity, Guiness World Records (ick - those fingernails).....Seems anything extreme interests me. I don't quite get it. It isn't a turn on, just an interest and wondering and 'what goes on there' type of thing.

Polygamy is another one. Which is why I've been waiting on above mentioned television show. Also interesting that it morphed into a religion. Or is part of a religion. Or something.

This show makes it real. Real women. With a real, average man. Who has nothing much more to give than they do...There's nothing all THAT amazing about him. But shows it just can't quite work. They all want validation and respect and adoration. And with two other spouses in the picture...That can't quite happen. They give up so much to be with this bland Home Depot Executive. Their selves, their souls, their pride.

I'm sure there are plenty who would disagree with me. And I'm open to those. Because I'd like to know the opposite viewpoint. I'm not so prudish that I think monogamy is THE only answer. Not sure what THE only answer is though. But I just don't see polygamy working.

I'm looking forward to the rest of the season of Big Love. I have big hopes for it. Hope it lives up to Sex In The City, and Six Feet Under, and the Sopranos. Guess we shall see.

(Bill Paxton is kinda cute.)

Family

You know how crazy I am about mine. And if you read the last comment on my last posting....You'll get a good idea of why I love Bro so much.

I like that he didn't correct my memories (they might not be just right, but they're mine) and I LOVE that he added to mine. And remembered little things about me and Dad that I didn't know he remembered...Like the steak incidents. (I don't think I ate steak again until was in my mid-twenties.) I'm sure most of you know, but this sibling thing is a bond that can't be replicated.

I was scared that my family was part of the midwest tornadoes this weekend. Talked to mom and niece last night and this morning. They're fine. Almost puked when I read that the entire town of Springfield was effected and knew Bro was there.....Until I realized they meant Springfield, IL and not Springfield, MO. (Shoddy reporting, I say. Bastards.)

I'm going back this weekend to see my two nieces. Can't think of a better way to spend a weekend. GMa is watching them while their mom and dad are on a week long vacation doing things like swimming with dolphins. To which H vehemently states: "NOT FAIR!"

I promised we'd have our own special vacation. I hear I have a list waiting for me that consists of:

- Build-A-Bear
- Movies
- Sonic Cherry LimeAdes
- The Park, The Park, The Park (Alas...forecast says rain)
- And I'm not sure what else..........

I hear The Short One (S) is still walking around with her coat on her head and running into furniture. (I guess they call that fun at one.) Can't wait to kiss on her some more! She's the physical one. Nothing's stopping her! She likes to wrestle. My pecs and biceps hurt last time I went.

Aunt Trix may come back broke and sore. But it will definitely be worth it!

Remembering - Something I Don't Do So Well

Things I remember about my Dad:

- I loved to sit in his lap and be tickled.
- He smoked Kool Menthols most of his life.
- Switched to Trident to give up the Kools.
- He always smelled like smoke and coffee...Which just smelled like Dad to me.
- He like fried egg sandwiches on toast with ketchup.
- He liked crafts like painting Christmas ornaments and making candles.
- He liked Nat King Cole and Herb Alpert And The Tijuana Brass.
- He liked breakfast for dinner.
- He slept late on the weekends.
- He wore PJ pants and wifebeaters to bed.
- He liked to swim.
- He peeled oranges like a pro. And got annoyed when I begged for slice after slice. (I haaate peeling oranges to this day!)
- He ate STACKS of chocolate chip cookies at a time.
- He would have been a dork by today's standards.
- He taught me to fish.
- His printing was impeccable.
- He was a math whiz.
- His calculator scared the shit outta me.
- He had an electric eraser we weren't supposed to play with. But I really wanted to.
- He had a short temper.
- He didn't cuss much but I can remember "Bastard" and "Son Of A Bitch".
- He drank very rarely. Maybe one beer after a hot day mowing the yard.
- He got me a Dr Doolittle See-And-Say at the hardware store once.
- He taught me to tie my shoes with some story about a bunny running around a tree and through the hole. (Which made the loops and the tie.)
- He worked away from home during the week when I was very small.
- And once brought us a puppy home after one of his weeks away. Her name was Cookie.
- He loved to drive.
- He changed his own oil.
- He let me pump the gas once in a while. (Loved that for some reason.)
- He and my Mom never, ever fought.
- He hated it when I pushed food onto my fork with my left index finger.
- He whistled a lot.
- He could talk like Donald Duck.
- He insisted on a wall full of pictures of us in the nursing home. And, after he could no longer speak, would point to us to show people how much he loved us.

I miss him.

Karma Flyin' All Over That Plane

One bene I get at work is standby travel (for the next few months at least). What that means is: I pay a very small surcharge, and hang out...Seeing if there are one or two seats left that I can put my butt in. If not? I try tne next flight. Has worked really well for the last 15 years. Can't complain.

So a couple of weekends ago, I make it on the flight to home. Just barely miss first class, but we don't care so much....Coach aisle seat is fine. I'm seated in 13D. So about 4 rows back into coach on the aisle. Reading Delta Sky. And my book. Settling in. Plane pushes back and I buckle up. And we're going up. And - I realize. I have my sweater on inside-out. Black sweater with white tag sticking out the back. Not really anything else obvious to point out the inside-out-ness. So, I do some practices. See if I can pull my sweater up far enough to my neck and hang my hair down far enough to hide it all.

Do a mental assessment of the plane. Best choice seems to be to go for the front lavatory. Fewest observers possible. So - DING! Bell goes off. Scruffy guy in Nascar cap, multiple piercings and tattoos, and red, sticky outty beard makes it to the front lav before me. I'm next in line and making my way toward the front. When flitty, black, male flight attendant stops me and says "OH NO!". Me with puzzled look on my face. "OH NO!" ????? "You can't go up THERE! Our first class guests would complain!!" Through gritted teeth I say "Do I HAVE To??" (Hoping he'll think it is some dire emergency...Which it IS.) "OH NO. You Must Go To The Back!"

OOOOOOOkkkkkkkkkk. Stompy footed me says. On the way to the back lav, I realize: This is really the better option. Everyone sees my front, which pretty much looks normal. No back with the obvious white tag. Get to back lav, turn shirt right-side-out and head back to seat. Still a little pissed that Flitty didn't let me in the front lav.

I let the drink and snack carts go ahead of me...Thinking they'll start at the first coach row (ahead of me) and go back. But oooooooooh nooooooooo. They start at Row 14. ONE behind me. Meaning I have to scootch past them in and out of aisles, them being ever so annoyed. AND it means Flitty will be serving First Class AND the first 4 rows of coach. MEANING - I get my ONE glass of wine (my one luxury when flying) LAST. DEAD LAST. So I wait. And wait. And wait. And Flitty thinks he's ever so clever. Not the normal two drinks delivered for him. NOOOOOOO. He must take about SIX drink orders and then deliver them on a tray. I'm watching him doing this up in First Class. He waits on his laaaaaaaaaast First Class passenger with about 3 drinks on his tray. And YEP! Dumps them all over said passenger. ALL OVER HIM. Luckily - He had on a leather coat. So he can just kind of wipe it off. But, I swear. No formal apologies. No offers for dry cleaning. Maybe two towels out of the lavatory. But NOTHING overly formal or offeratory. THERE'S KARMA FOR YA FLITTY! Let me pee in First Class next time!

So -- On with the Karma thing. Now I feel bad that I've felt good about Flitty's mistake. So, I decide to take it all back mentally. I don't feel good. His disaster isnt' my joy. But I'm STILL waiting for that glass of wine. Which comes. And it is a FULL, FULL glass. One of those plastic cups filled up to the top. Flit says: "We didn't have any of those little bottles in first. I had to pour out of the full bottle. So I can't charge you for it. It's free." KARMA right back at me!

The Karma Rocket was just flying all over that plane. And kept landing at me. Kind of a Pay It Forward moment..........

Green Tingleberry

So L and I met a guy at a bar last night who happens to work for a foods distributor and happened to have loads of samples in his car. He loaded us UP with Now & Laters...One of our favorite Kids' Candies.

One of the new flavors is Green Tingleberry. Which sounds waaaay too close to Dingleberry. Which might not be the BEST marketing ploy ever.

I did just put one in my mouth though. Pretty tasty. But it didn't make me tingle at all.