Chicken Fried Therapy

Sitting On Sushi and Cloud Nine

2008-04-20T10:48:00.018-05:00

Thank heavens I didn’t remove my eye makeup when I went to bed at 3 am this morning. With this leftover eye shadow, certainly I am looking better than I feel today. I mean, no need to waste perfectly good eye makeup, right? So with my sultry, smoky eyes I just ventured out for some scrambled eggs and refried beans – or as I’m calling it, a Helping of Hope.

I had a big time last night.

First of all the Women and Their Work party was a roaring success. We had a thick crowd of people with great attitudes and the energy was fabulous. Everyone embraced the performance art, the silent auction caused a row which drove the bidding higher, and despite the fact this was a non-profit event, we had plenty of booze. It was a hell of a party.

For me, the most fun was celebrating with two of my nearest & dearest friends who are on the board of Women and Their Work. These are the birds who got me involved in this event and it was a real treat to collaborate with them on all the party planning. I love our portrait on the sushi stools.

My good friends KK and SalGal of The Midlife Gals were a riotous addition to the scene. They set up camp in this funky niche replete with chain link curtains and a mod white leather mattress. They lured unsuspecting souls into their little padded cell to interview them and overlay their irreverent editorial. It was a hoot. I’m sure we’re all going to regret our on-camera antics when the footage hits you tube.

But of course I’ll share the link with you the moment I have it.

After the party I hopped over to the Saxon Pub because I had my heart set on hearing Seth Walker. You may recall from my report on Springfest, Seth Walker was a highlight of that festival for me. I’ve been spinning his tunes round the clock for the past two weeks and am keen to see him play just as often as I can.

So imagine my delight when I sauntered up to the Saxon Pub in my party clothes and Seth Walker was standing right outside! Oh my heavens, oh my heavens, oh my heavens.

Now we all know I have a long history of going shy when seeing musicians up close & personal. Over the years I’ve had run-ins with Charlie Robison, Cody Canada, Cory Morrow and Jim Lauderdale – just to name a few. But inevitably when given the face-to-face opportunity to speak with them, I totally freeze up. I just panic like a schoolgirl and flee.

But last night I broke my curse. Granted I was flustered and breathless and babbling like a fool, but hey, I had a little exchange with Seth Walker. And I even pulled myself together to ask for a picture.

Hee hee hee.

He was just as down-to-earth and sweet as he could be. I wouldn’t have expected such a smokin’ hot electric bluesman to be so sweet. Mrs. Walker clearly raised a very polite son. Then of course he and his band cranked things up on stage and I was putty for the rest of the night. Hot damn! That boy was pouring on the blues and he was pouring it on thick.

Just between you and me I think he was singing ‘Steady’ right to me.

I know, I know. They say musicians can’t see a thing up there under those lights. But I’m just saying…right to me.

The whole night was such a gas. My feet are killing me from dancing in these evil heels, I’m wearing eye makeup that I first put on about 5.30 pm yesterday, and I have to switch into mommy mode any minute. But I’m on cloud nine. The art party was sparkly and fun. I got to boogie down to some delicious blues tunes. And I chatted with Seth Walker.

Kick that around for awhile.

Come See Me Get My Butt Kicked in Ping Pong

2008-04-17T08:48:00.010-05:00

Women and Their Work is a non-profit organization in Austin, TX that promotes women artists. The heartbeat of their operation is their centrally-located art gallery, which has won ‘Best Gallery’ in Austin at least five times in recent years.

Since launching in 1978, Women and Their Work has promoted 1,787 artists in 248 exhibitions, organized 109 music, theater and dance events, 19 literary readings, 13 film festivals, and 328 workshops.

These birds are busy. And they are damn good at what they do.

Which why I am deeply privileged to be involved with their 30th Anniversary Celebration. This Saturday April 19th, Women and Their Work is hosting a bash that is not to be missed:

Saturday April 19th from 7 until 10 pm
Be a part of the year’s most entertaining and unpredictable party

Click Here To Get Your Tickets Online

There will be a silent auction with wonderful art by Kate Breakey, Candace Briceno, Diana Dopson, Joey Fauerso, Malou Flato, Martha Gannon, Emily Tracy-Haas, Jan Heaton, Lance Letscher, Bonnie Lynch, and Denise Prince Martin.

There will be all sorts of InterActivities such as playing ping pong with national champs. That's right, you heard me. Ping Pong. Now I don't think I'm very good at ping pong -- but then again I've never played in heels. Could be my magic weapon. Don't you want to come see how this plays out?

And you don't want to miss the other InterActivities such as wii, xbox, guitar hero, Atari, performance dance, disco dancing, quick draw portraits, and comedic video interviews with our good friends from The Midlife Gals.

Don’t you want to show your support for the women of Texas who keep putting the ART in PARTY? Here are some easy ways to help:

1. But a ticket and come drink and dance this Saturday night
2. Email this post to anyone and everyone
3. If you can’t make the party, then consider becoming a friend of Women and Their Work

Women. Art. Parties. Libations. It’s a good combination – help us keep it going for another 30 years….

Jumpin Like a Hothouse Georgia Juke Joint

2008-04-16T11:45:00.007-05:00

Last weekend I was in Atlanta, Georgia to celebrate my cousin’s wedding. I should probably go ahead and take this opportunity to issue a formal apology for my unabashed, feverish, relentless, revival-style, reckless abandon on the dance floor.

Damnation they had some good music at this wedding!

My cousin works in the music industry so it’s understandable that the music was a top priority – and they nailed it. I can’t remember the last time I had such a good time at a wedding. And it started with the rehearsal dinner. I polished off my delightful piece of Elvis cake – red velvet of course – and we danced to the band until they scraped me off the dance floor and forced me onto a bus to head home.

But no worries because we got to do it all over again the next night. Bigger and better.

The Breeze Kings played at the reception. An Atlanta-based blues band with a hipster sound and spicy little edge. When was the last time you showed up at a wedding reception and the lead musician was pulling out a collection of a dozen different harmonicas?

I can’t tell you the names of the songs they played, but it was all so good that I danced like my life depended on it. We’re not talking socially polite dancing that you do when your priest and grandparents are nearby watching. I’m talking full-tilt, shake-it-til-you-break-it, boogie-til-you-just-can’t-boogie-no-more.

I’m pretty sure I shamed the entire family name. I’d love to blame it on too much liquor, but I only had a couple of glasses of wine. I’m telling you it was The Breeze Kings. The Breeze Kings and their live, hoppin’, swingin’, grab-you-by-gut-and spin-you-round-and-round live music.

A fabulous female blues singer named Sweet Betty joined the band for a few numbers and blew everyone away. Now I am no stranger to the powers of a great southern songstress, but good night nurse this lady could sing! Everyone had goose bumps. I’m pretty sure she saved my soul.

Whew. Thank heavens I can cross that off my to do list.

I loved it all. Of all the gamillions of weddings I’ve been to, I’m not sure I have ever seen a bride and groom bring so much of their own personality to the whole affair. And they looked ridiculously happy and totally in love.

So just when I thought it was time to retire my very high-heeled dancing shoes…

As every wedding party seems programmed to do, we made our way back to the hotel bar like a flock of sweaty homing pigeons. We arrived at the very large bar area to find another live band, the remains of two other wedding groups, and civilians in street clothes. With badges.

Aha. A convention.

Turns out a group of Developmental Biologists were in town and hired a band for their convention. I couldn’t shake the feeling I needed to be a little closer to that music. So I saddled up to some of those Developmental Biologists, but sadly they wanted nothing to do with the likes of me. I, however, was undeterred. I found some friendlier Developmental Biologists, who frankly seemed infinitely more in charge of things, and they graciously invited me to come listen to the band.

The BooHoo Ramblers are a roots/country/blues/bluegrass band from Decatur Georgia, and they are fabulous. A mix of original songs like “Outta Here” – which I instantly loved – and some well-chosen cover tunes. Patrick, who is from Ireland and utterly adorable, played the fiddle like he had placed his own bet with Johnny and The Devil.

I'm here to tell ya that hell did break loose in Georgia and Patrick went home with the shiny fiddle made of gold.

Meanwhile the lead dude Clark Ashton sings and plays guitar while tapping his foot on a tambourine on the ground. I was mesmerized. I spent half the time trying to figure out if he had it on some sort spring action. But no, he’s just that good. The BooHoo Ramblers were electrifying, soothing and haunting all at the same time.

It was loads of fun. So much good music in one little ole evening I could barely process it all. And the dancing! I may never walk again. I’ll be sore for weeks to come. If I’d known there was going to be so much dancing I would have prepared so much differently. I would have stretched. And hydrated. And worn comfortable shoes.

Oh hell, that’s a lie. The shoes were fabulous.

So if you’re in the Atlanta area…

The Breeze Kings

The Breeze Kings on MySpace

See The Breeze Kings this Thursday April 17^th at The Northside Tavern in Atlanta GA

The BooHoo Ramblers

The BooHoo Ramblers on Myspace

See The BooHoo Ramblers Thursday May 1^st at Twains in Decatur GA

The Spirit of the Suwannee

2008-04-01T20:54:00.008-05:00

My eyes are just now coming into focus and my motor skills starting to click back into action. I’ve just returned from a trippy little trip to Florida for ‘Springfest’ – a three day music festival held at The Spirit of the Suwannee campgrounds.

I suppose the best way to describe the music at Springfest is folksy, jammin’ bluegrass. But like a newly branded and re-launched Oldsmobile, this is not your father’s bluegrass. These musicians rocked the sap from the trees and rattled the fillings in your teeth.

Hot Buttered Rum earned their title leaving me feeling giddy and full like I’d had a big country breakfast and too many hot toddies. They were adorable and had the crowd hoppin’. The Infamous Stringdusters were a great afternoon toe-tapping show. And you could feel the energy shift when David Grisman came out. The fun got serious with this living legend. He took his mandolin to war (friendly fire of course) with a teenage mandolin prodigy and together they made some magic.

We saw Donna The Buffalo the first afternoon, but we were wilting in the sun a bit, and truth be told we were more consumed with rating the dancing hippie girls and their hula hoops. I am so getting a hula hoop. I don’t care how long it takes I am going to learn to dance with a hula hoop. Check back with me, I may have to set up a unique website just to chart my progress.

But we saw Donna The Buffalo the next night and loved them. The crowd was lit-up and the musicians really delivered. It’s always a good time when the accordions and the washboards come out to play.

Of course I came to the festival with my natural draw toward Texas and Tennesee tunes, and my bands represented well. I’ve been listening to Guy Clark since I was about five years old but have never seen him play. So it was damn cool to hear him croon Texas 1947 and LA Freeway right before my very own eyes.

Jim Lauderdale wins my Hillbilly Sex Symbol award for the festival. He had this kind of 70s-style pompadour hair, royal blue tuxedo pants, and the cuffs on his shirt were open – not rolled up mind you – just the pearl snaps were undone and the sleeves hanging loose at his wrists. Ooh la la.

Oh yeah, and his music was great.

I saw him by the merchandise table that night, and he totally busted me ogling him. He came my way and I probably could have shared a little repartee, but I got shy, panicked like a schoolgirl, and turned the other way.

Amy LaVere was out of sight. She’s a pocket sized little beauty who plays the standup bass and bounces between a super-sweet baby voice and belting out southern-fried ballads with the power of Ethel Merman. Boys’ hearts fluttered her way, while I was dreamy for her guitar player.

Now Seth Walker plays his fresh style of electric blues in my Austin neighborhood on a weekly basis. But after two airplane rides and five-hours in the car, I felt so incredibly lucky to see him in this setting. A rustic, woodsy amphitheater surrounded by tall live oaks that were covered in Spanish moss.

There was so much Spanish moss dripping from the trees that everything began to look like a Salvador Dali painting. (Admittedly, the exorbitant volumes of Sweetwater beer may have played a hand in this.) I love Spanish moss, and it was a badass backdrop for all this delicious music. I’ve always said I could never be a spy because if caught, all they’d have to do is dangle some Spanish moss in front of me and I’d sing like a drunk dizzy bird.

Speaking of being a drunk dizzy bird…I know we loved loved loved Railroad Earth, but I can’t tell you why. They played late on Friday and that show is a bit hazy.

Of course the music was sublime, but it was the people that made the trip so special for me. Lounging around our campfire, we laughed at our own recycled stories until our cheeks hurt. And out among the crowds, tie-dyed hospitality was everywhere. It was all peace love & brotherhood. Everyone was warm and open and just so grateful to be there.

As we followed the breadcrumbs back to our tents each night, we made a point of walking up to visit random campsites – you know just to introduce ourselves, check out their fire, see what bands they’d enjoyed. In the real world our drunken pop-ins might not have been well received, but in this hippie utopia we were greeted with genuine enthusiasm -- and quite often a beer.

It was a magical weekend and I can honestly say that the Spirit of the Suwannee is highly contagious. I just hope they never find a cure.

Make an on-line slideshow at www.OneTrueMedia.com

Whole Lotta Love for London

2008-03-24T21:51:00.008-05:00

We knew Paris was going to be tough to beat. But like the new season of the Bachelor, London was calling.

Seven Highlights of Our Time in London:

1. My Old House. When I was just about the same age as Little Chick we moved to London for two years. Showing her the house where we lived was surreal.

2. The London Eye. I will admit I was a touch cynical about The London Eye. Why would I want to go to England and ride a ferris wheel? But it was pretty spectacular. The design is amazing and the view of the city sublime.

3. Changing of the Guards at Whitehall Palace. I wandered into a covered tunnel to take a picture of one of the standing guards – you know the ones that won’t crack a smile, wince or even blink for a tourist? In order to get his picture I had to step backward up on a step. He pounded his foot on the ground like a horse. I couldn’t believe it! I got him to move! I was so excited I stepped backwards up a few more steps to get more pics. Well he grunted and pulled his sword on me. Yeah....turns out I was backing into an entrance to Whitehall Palace. Understandably a no-no.

So apparently you can get them to move and make noise if you accidentally storm the palace.

4. Taxi Battle. It’s never an easy task to land a taxi at night when an entire theatre of people pour onto the streets at the same time. We angled and positioned. Spread out on separate corners. Finally I eyed one coming from far far away. I raced and ran and flailed and waved. The driver gave me a nod and pointed to the place he could pull over. I shouted at my mom and Little Chick to join me as I ran to the taxi. Looking for holes like Emmitt Smith, I was dodging pedestrians, spinning around rubbish bins and leaping the sidewalk railings.

I arrived and was chatting with the driver through the window when out of the blue some crazy British woman whacked me with her umbrella and began squawking that she was taking that cab. Unbelievable. I’ll spare you the condescending martyr speech I gave her as I allowed her to take the taxi but suffice to say it made her look so stupid that even her husband shook his head in shame and apologized to me.

5. Eating at the Old Hot Spots. It was so fun to take Little Chick to all our favorite places to eat. The same head waiter is still at the Brompton Brasserie. Tootsie’s has had an extreme makeover but it’s still there and it’s still delish. We finished the trip with a gluttonous trip to Fortnum & Mason.

6. Brass Rubbings and Making Friends. Little Chick had her heart set on doing the unicorn. I spend ten minutes trying to talk her out of the unicorn and convince her to do something cool like a knight or a queen or a gargoyle. She wanted the unicorn. As she went to grab it, a little two-year old girl was about to take the unicorn and immediately became upset. So Little Chick let her have the unicorn. I was so proud. We made friends with the little girl and her brother, who was about the same age as Little Chick. It was a very sweet spin on the traditional art of brass rubbings.

7. Meeting Jimmy Page. Ok, so that’s a stretch. But our favorite cab driver, Mike, had picked up Jimmy Page just one week before us, and Mike swears Jimmy Page was seated in the exact same seat that I was in. As the new British bachelor would say, I fancy the pants off Led Zeppelin. So that was fun.

And London rocked.

Make video montages at www.OneTrueMedia.com

Oh La Vache!

2008-03-21T16:37:00.022-05:00

I am so very sorry that things have been quiet here at Chicken Fried Therapy. I’ve just returned from a fabulous whirlwind trip to Paris & London with my mother and daughter, and re-entry has been brutal.

The last time I was in Paris it was 1999 I was ginormously pregnant. So it was beyond surreal to be back with Little Chick in tow. This trip was so fantastic I can’t possibly condense it into one post, so pardon my reckless literary abandon as I ramble over the next few days. I’ll start with Paris…

Seven Unforgettable Highlights of our time in Paris:

1. Seeing the look on Little Chick’s face when she first saw the Eiffel Tower. We landed in Paris around 2 pm, checked into the hotel, unpacked for 45 minutes, and grabbed the Metro straight to see the Eiffel tower. We were on the train when it popped into view. Her smile was priceless.

2. Eating at Chez Andre. My parents ate there in 1972. I ate there on my very first trip to Paris in 1980 at the age of ten. I tried escargot and fell in love. We had high hopes that picky picky picky Little Chickie would expand her horizons and do the same for nostalgia’s sake. And technically, she did, eventually, try a miniscule crumb of escargot. But not without drama and tears and hemming and hawing.

To be clear, she received zero pressure from us! She really wanted to do it. But was upset with herself when she chickened out. So I wrapped a teeny speck of escargot in gobs of butter and bread. She closed her eyes and choked it down. Literally, she started choking. I had to jump up and stick my hand in her mouth and extract the half eaten snail-bread-butter mass.

With a restaurant full of French eyes glaring at me.

She snuck another small snail crumblette in a teeny piece of bread, we paid the bill and quickly hauled ass. Hopefully if we wait another decade or so we can go back to Chez Andre and keep the family tradition alive. But it may take awhile for the waitstaff to forget the little scene we caused.

3. Little Chick desperately wants to be a fashion designer and lives and breathes for Coco Chanel. Her whole life is about researching Coco Chanel. She even dressed as Chanel last Halloween. So we made a wonderful pilgrimage to the original boutique on the Rue Cambon. The sales associates were quite smitten with Little Chick and spent an inordinate amount of time showing her around while she asked them pressing questions about why Chanel loved tweed and camellias and was buried in Switzerland instead of France.

4. Seeing the Mona Lisa. And singing Nat King Cole’s “Mona Lisa….Mona Lisa…” in the crowd until Little Chick became so embarrassed she wouldn’t stand near me any longer.

5. Climbing the dome at Sacre Couer with Little Chick. I’ll tell you what…I’m glad I’ve been working out! Sheesh, those were some steep and winding steps. Little Chick was a little frightened as we neared the top. She kept saying, “Ooh, we’re going to die! Ooh, we’re going to die!”

Imagine our alarm when we started to actually hear the angels sing.

Inside the church the nuns choir began to sing acapella and it was amplified in the stairwell near the top of the dome. It really did feel like we were ascending to heaven with angels greeting us.

6. Crepes. Crepes. Nutella Crepes. I actually had convinced myself that Nutella wasn’t chocolate so much as a valuable source of protein. It has the word ‘nut’ in the title. It has to be good for you, right?

Hell I practically had myself believing it counted as a leafy green vegetable. Damn that stuff is so good. And what is it about those simple crepes that are so delish?

7. The only phrase I remember from 10th grade French class is “Oh La Vache!” I’m not sure but I think it’s meant to be used kinda like Oh My Heavens or Holy Cow. But quite literally it translates to Oh The Cow.

Which I think is hysterical.

I’ve been waiting and waiting for decades, but lo these many years the situation just hasn’t presented itself. Until one day near the Tuileries. Little Chick was picking through trinkets in a very cramped little souvenir shop. Some woman accidentally knocked over an entire display of miniature Eiffel Tower key chains (thank the Lord it wasn’t one of us) and they went crashing all over the floor. I looked at the shopkeeper, pressed my hands to my cheeks with wide eyes, and exclaimed “Oh La Vache!” Ooh, it felt so good.

Then we helped pick them up.

The trip was sublime, but oh la vache I am happy to be home and connect with all of you! Oh la vache. Enjoy the slideshow and stay tuned. The next post will be London. Oh la vache.

Make video montages at www.OneTrueMedia.com

Leap of faith Friday #5

2008-02-29T11:08:00.007-06:00

Here we are. Leap Year Day and the final Leap of Faith Friday. It’s been such a fun campaign so before announcing this week’s LEAP, I thought I’d take a look back at my four previous LEAPS…

#1 -- Launching my new blog Fly Fish Chick

What a fun adventure. The new blog is going gangbusters, although I had no idea how hard it would be to juggle two blogs – along with motherhood and everyday life. But I am undeterred. I’m determined to increase my posting frequency on both blogs, because each are proving to be deeply rewarding in very unique ways.

#2 -- Emailing my college writing professor

Well, I haven’t heard back from her. But it’s no matter because all of your comments were so personal and so thoughtful. I couldn’t ask for anything more. Thank you!

#3 – Eliminating caffeine

Whoa. Who forgot to tell me about this unique brand of hell? I can’t tell you how many times I almost cheated. I can, however, tell you how many times I did cheat: three times. I made it six days without a Diet Coke or Diet Dr Pepper, and it was pretty brutal. A week ago Thursday I had one diet coke at a texmex restaurant. It was either that or 18 margaritas. Then I buckled and had two diet cokes this week to mitigate a vicious migraine.

I probably would have cheated more but I imagined some CFT reader with a hidden camera spying on me at 7-11. Kept me on the straight and narrow.

The good news is that I am SLEEPING again! I really believe the obscene amounts of Diet Dr Pepper were the culprit. So since I’ve started sleeping better, I’ve decided to stick with the no caffeine program.

#4 My first podcast

Goodness. I don’t know what to say about last Friday’s podcast. Your comments were so flattering – I had no idea I had such an interesting voice. Ooh la la. Guess it’s a good thing I used to smoke after all.

(Just kidding. It’s a horrible, vile, filthy habit. Never do it. Blah blah blah.)

This past Tuesday I was ordering donut holes at a Shipley’s counter and the gentlemen next to me interrupted and asked if anyone had ever told me I sounded exactly like Demi Moore. With a straight face I turned to him and replied, “Actually about twenty-two people told me that just the other day.”

Poor guy was a little confused and proceeded to spill his coffee all over the counter.

#5 – This one is up to you...

Here’s the deal. I no longer smoke. I have given up caffeinated soft drinks. Apparently I’m wired like a game of Wack-a-mole, because everytime I beat down once vice, another one pops up in its place.

Lately, it’s eating. Copious amounts of food, namely sweets. I am happy that my lungs are getting a break. And I’m thrilled to be sleeping again. But we are marching the wrong way up the scales, kids.

For heavens sakes, I only made two New Years Resolutions: 1) start drunk dialing friends and 2) get so skinny that friends and family start to worry about me.

How in the world am I going to accomplish this if I’m replacing smokes and cokes with cupcakes and queso? Not to mention complete abandonment of my regular exercise routine.

So my final LEAP OF FAITH is in your hands. Here are some things I am considering to kickstart the weight loss campaign. Which do you think I should do:

A) South Beach Diet
B) Kickboxing lessons
C) Start running on the treadmill instead of just walking
D) Weight training program with trainer
E) Meet with a nutritionist
F) Take up NIA classes again

Thanks for following along with Leap of Faith Friday. Don’t forget to visit The Busy Dad Blog and Bliss in Bloom to see their final leaps. If you did a final LEAP on your blog please shout about it in a comment so we can hop over and cheer for you. Finally, some bloggers have asked if we can keep this campaign going. Hell yeah! Take the picture, make your leaps and keep it alive. More power to you.

Happy Leap Year everybody.

Leap of Faith Friday #4

2008-02-22T08:37:00.013-06:00

Welcome to our fourth week in the Leap of Faith Friday series. Spoiler alert: I'm introducing audio. You may want to lower the volume, locate some earplugs and proceed with caution...

I am increasingly intrigued with the idea of how much a mom gets done in her car. Multi-tasking, changing kids' clothes, delivering children, grabbing dinner through a window somewhere, catching up on phone calls with friends, enjoying some silence, talking to herself, responding to herself, running late, keeping others on time, singing as loud as she'll ever sing.

A lot happens in the car.

So despite the unabashed humiliation this brings me, I am going to offer you a glimpse of my life in the car via the first ever Chicken Fried Therapy Podcast. Take a little ride on my insanity train as I babble about cotillion, homeless people, and breakfast tacos.

I'm cringing because the following Utterz Podcast is a huge Leap of Faith for me. It's the real me...unplugged, unedited and slightly unhinged. Although I did refrain from using any expletives -- and that's tough for me. Push PLAY to listen:

Here a few gratuitous pictures in case the podcast was too painful for you...

It was delish....

Leap of Faith Friday #3

2008-02-15T09:15:00.008-06:00

Okay, so it’s the third week in our Leap of Faith Friday series. This seemed like such a great idea when we started.

I had big plans to entertain you this week with some sort of humiliating singing adventure – karaoke in some form. I thought it would be good for a round of laughs. But my last few days have been wrecked by a gruesome combination of the flu, bronchitis and insomnia.

I can’t sleep. I can’t sing. And I’ve taken to mainlining Diet Dr Pepper. I’ve been wracking my brain trying to think of a LEAP of Faith that I could actually pull off this week.

And trust me I’ve had plenty of time to think about it since I’ve been awake since 2.15 am. I got all caught up on my Ryan’s Hope re-runs. Apparently when they moved Mary’s childhood dresser out of the Ryan basement, they discovered the beloved bag of alphabet blocks that they all played with as children. Everyone had to share a memory about the damn blocks.

Ryan’s Hope wrapped up about 5 am and I really just wanted someone to whack me in the head with the freaking bag of blocks. But instead, I was hit with something else. My LEAP for this week: I am going to try to give up caffeine.

Now as recently as yesterday I was very much on record saying I would never give up caffeine. But one more night subjected to watching the Ryan family and my next LEAP of faith might be off a cliff that’s not-at-all metaphorical. So I am going to give it a try and see if it helps.

A good night’s sleep is pretty much all the inspiration I need to quit drinking diet sodas. But as we can see from the disturbing video below, caffeine can develop into a bigger problem. First it’s Diet Dr Pepper, then it’s the caffeine pills. Next thing you know you’re starring in a sleazy stripper movie that busts at the box office and ends your career.

So it’s no caffeine for me. Because like Jessie, I Have to Sing! And the thought of sleep? I'm So Excited! I'm So Excited!

I Bet The Ryan Family Never Had Insomnia

2008-02-13T11:20:00.025-06:00

Those of you who suffer from insomnia might recognize this picture of infomercial celebrity Klee Irwin -- you know, the guy who wants to clean your colon? If you're awake in the middle of the night, then you know what I'm talking about. The rest of you narcoleptics have probably already nodded off by now, so I will just proceed with my sleep-deprived rant.

Lately, every night is the same…I fall asleep easily, but awake somewhere between 2am and 4am and simply cannot go back to sleep. My mind starts buzzing with all the things on my to-do list that I’ve yet to conquer.

If you’ve ever had a bout of stress-induced insomnia – or frankly if you’ve ever had a newborn baby – you know how little there is to watch on television during this timeslot. I’m embarrassed to say how many times I’ve seen Klee's infomercial about the Dual Action Cleanse. When I realized I had it memorized, I decided it was time to find something new to watch.

Apparently SOAP NET shows old, old re-runs of the 70s soap opera Ryan’s Hope. Perfect! I never watched the show when it originally aired but it’s a soap opera for heavens sake – how hard can it be to follow along?

After all, soap operas are meant to lift you out of your own humdrum worries, while you temporarily get caught-up in these ridiculous characters and their wildly exaggerated problems. Right?

So I tuned into Ryan’s Hope to see what bizarre scenarios and desperate crises had befallen the Ryan clan. Here’s what I found:

• Newlyweds Mary and Jack are struggling to find enough drawer space in their small apartment.

• Faith has finished her 'psychotherapy' and is so completely over her unrequited love for Pat, that she can counsel him for hours about his love life.

• The Ryans are against divorce so Frank and Delia have just decided to be separated in secret, but will continue to live as a family with Da and Ma above the restaurant.

• Jill has two handsome men in love with her. As far as I can tell they seem to drop by her apartment unannounced, and quite often at the same time. Lite-as-a-breeze she greets them in her kaftan and let’s them know she won’t be ‘controlled’. They agree.

• Frank’s campaign for Congress was almost derailed by one negative article. But luckily his brother-in-law is a journalist, so he just asked his fellow writer to cancel the story. That was the end of that.

• Closing credits reveal that all of their wardrobes are provided by BARNEY’S NEW YORK

Are you freakin’ kidding me? These are the problems that are supposed to make me feel less-stressed about my life? Screw this, I’m going back to E! News. I need Jamie Lynn pregnant at sixteen; I need Amy Winehouse with a crackpipe; I need Liza Manelli beating her freaky husband. These are the people that make me feel better about my life. Because up against these knuckleheads I'm practically Doris Day.

Que sera sera. Hopefully this insomnia will pass -- along with my odd addiction to Ryan’s Hope re-runs. But if not, I’ll be sure to fill you in on the drama with Mary’s childhood dresser. Da was worried it wouldn’t fit in her apartment and was adamant she should measure first. Jack was furious that she brought the dresser into the apartment without asking his permission.

It’s a cliffhanger…

Leap of Faith Friday #2

2008-02-08T15:09:00.000-06:00

Today is the second installment in our 5-part series, LEAP OF FAITH FRIDAY. If you haven’t already done so, be sure to visit BD at the Busy Dad Blog and Piper of Bliss in Bloom who both posted their LEAPS in a much more timely manner than I have today. But without coordination there seems to be a common theme in all three of our posts… a look back at the past.

My leap of faith this week was to contact my writing professor from college.

When I was a freshman at UNC-Chapel Hill I had grandiose ideas about becoming a writer. Really, I had decided to become a writer in the 4th grade, so the idea of college seemed to bring this plan some much needed energy. It was finally time to get started. I was so clueless, I have no idea how I managed to land a coveted spot in a creative writing class with Doris Betts, but somehow I did. Doris Betts was a distinguished southern writer, and a professor of celebrity-like status on campus.

I remember what I wore to class the first day. A white Ralph Lauren polo collared shirt with navy stripes, and its inverse navy Ralph Lauren skirt with white stripes. Here’s a leap within a leap when I also share the painful memory of some cream-colored buck shoes. In my defense I’d attended an all-girls’ school with a uniform for seven years, so clearly I didn’t know how to dress myself for going out in public.

Immediately I fell in love with the creative writing program. My writing classes were among the few that I would actually attend with regularity. There were only about 12 students in each class so my absence was conspicuous. Not to mention I couldn’t miss the opportunity to hear what Doris Betts was going to say.

As far as I was concerned she was as cool as a woman could be. Always just a moment late to class, juggling a pile of notebooks and papers, and clutching a fistful of pens. She always had ink on her fingers and a sparkle in her eye. She had energy and backbone and wit and humanity. And a great laugh!

During my four years at Carolina she was working on a novel – her first one in almost a decade – and every so often she would share gritty details about gruesome medical research she was up to. We felt so special any time she would give us a nugget from the book, although once I read it years later I realized how little she gave away. Doris Betts can write Southern as well as anyone. Her delicious tales of macabre spirituality leave you feeling as thought you were draped in Spanish moss.

She once told me that my stories surprised her. That my writing was much darker than I seemed to be as a person on first impression. I swooned.

Although given my hideous preppy Ralph Lauren outfit, I’m sure that wasn’t too hard to pull off. But I carried it with me as a compliment nonetheless.

I had Doris Betts as a professor for three out of my four years at Carolina. I can still hear her feedback:

-- “Show Don’t Tell.”

-- “We’re only together for 90 minutes. So if there’s something good in your story, let’s just assume you put it there on purpose. Our job is to tell you what’s not working.”

-- “Please don’t have your characters hand each other pretty little packages of dialogue, like they are just passing them back and forth, tied up with a pretty little bow.”

-- “Sometimes reality is just too complicated to be believable in a fiction class.”

When I left Carolina, I said goodbye to Doris Betts and my plans to become a writer. Instead I became an Assistant Buyer at Neiman Marcus. And then an Account Executive at an ad agency. Eventually Managing Director of a consulting firm. A wife, a mother, an ex-wife. A freelancer.

When I list it all out like that, it seems like such a long, long trip. Sometimes I feel like I went so far off-track, but other days I feel like it was a complete circle. Because this morning I decided to send Doris Betts an email with links to a few Chicken Fried Therapy posts. Here I am fifteen years later, once again wondering what Doris Betts thinks of my writing.

We’ll see if she responds! I think the spirit of these LEAPS is more in the “doing” than in the “outcome”, but I will let you know regardless. In the meantime I will confess that I chickened out on one part of the LEAP.

All these years I’ve had a question about her novel ‘Souls Raised From the Dead’. This is the book she was writing when I was her student. It was published a year or so after I graduated and the antagonist is named ‘Christine’.

I’ve always been a teeny bit curious where she got the idea for that name…

But I just like thinking it was me. So, Doris, if you do read this, can we just pretend that it’s true?

…………………………………….

Please check out the other blogs who participated in LEAP OF FAITH FRIDAY. If you did a LEAP and it's not listed, please mention it in a comment here so we can all make sure to read it.

bliss in bloom
busy dad blog
bizzylizzie
keep believing

Don't Cut Off My Air Supply

2008-02-05T17:59:00.000-06:00

A brilliant friend of mine – who happens to be a former singer/songwriter, current rockstar political consultant, and all-around badass -- started a grassroots e-newsletter called the Music Caucus. He recently came across a list of the “wussiest songs of all time” and decided to share the top 50 with the Cauci. Of course I’ve shamelessly decided to lift the list from him and post it here.

Now be careful, because when I first read the list I think I threw up in my mouth a little. Most of the songs are so saccharine they should come with a shot of insulin. Others are just plain bad.

But before I share the list... a does of chicken-fried honesty: There are four songs on the list that I actually don’t hate. Okay, okay, I even kinda like them.

1 – All Outta Love by Air Supply. What can I say? My musical tastes weren’t so discerning in the 5th grade and I’ve never lost my appetite for this one. I get such a kick out of the live version on iTunes. There’s overly dramatic drum solo and some fanned applause that extend the tune to 6:12 playing time.

2 – More Than Words by Extreme. Ah, the summer of ’92. I studied abroad in Italy and they played this song every night when the discos closed at 5am.

3 – Sometimes When We Touch by Dan Hill. I guess I’ve just always been intrigued by a pop song that can pull off the word “subsides”. Seems like someone had a Thesaurus nearby.

4 – You Light Up My Life by Debbie Boone. Because as a kid I covered this song nightly, with a hairbrush as my mic and a full-length mirror as my audience. I could do sultry better than any of the other 7-year old torch singers on my block.

Those are my four true confessions. Now here’s the list of the Top 50 Wussiest Songs of all time. If you are the original author, raise your hand so we can give you some credit. As for the rest of you, don’t be a wussy. Tell us which ones you secretly like…

THE LIST:

50. 'I'm in You'

Peter Frampton (1977)
... You're in me? Whatever sort of love affair was going on here, Frampton charted higher with this dainty single (No. 2) than any of the blockbuster hits off his previous breakthrough album, 'Frampton Comes Alive.'

49. 'Hero'

Mariah Carey (1993)
Even the recording academy thought this hit was too sugary for its own good. Despite the song's presence at telethons, tributes and kiddie concerts, the '95 Grammy for Pop Female Vocalist went to Sheryl Crow's 'All I Wanna Do.' Proof that fun in the sun trumps multi-octive soul-searching.

48. 'Just the Way You Are'

Billy Joel (1977)
An instant cocktail-hour classic that featured a sax solo as creamy as a chocolate mousse, this definitive adult contemporary hit made Joel the envy of all sensitive males. "Don't go changing," he sang. Then he divorced his first wife and married Christie Brinkley.

47. 'Puppy Love'

Donny Osmond (1972)
If only he'd waited to hit puberty before branching out from the family act: Donny's first solo hit sounds like it was sung by Marie.

Listen to 'Puppy Love'

46. 'Hip to Be Square'

Huey Lewis (1986)
Huey Lewis, an Ivy Leaguer as a graduate of Cornell University, put his pocket protector on his sleeve and tried to convince the rest of us that it's actually cool to be a goody-goody. T'yeah! It's a darn shame this song never found its way to an after-school special.

45. 'Don't Give Up On Us'

David Soul (1976)
Before this singer-turned-actor became famous as Starsky's Hutch, he was a regular on 'The Merv Griffin Show.' Appearing as the Covered Man, he performed folk songs in a ski mask. We kid you not.

44. 'Invisible'

Clay Aiken (2003)
After belting out power ballads with MeatLoaf-like intensity on the show, the 'American Idol' salutatorian released this bashful, watered-down single about being too timid (and, apparently, transparent) to approach his heart's true desire. Maybe this is why Clay turned to online dating.

43. 'Annie's Song'

John Denver (1974)
This John Denver classic will fill up your senses -- and exercise your gag reflexes. It's the perfect song for swaying back and forth 'round a campfire. So, anyone up for a sing-along? We didn't think so.

42. 'When I'm 64'

The Beatles (1967)
No less icky now that Sir Paul has in fact turned 64, this song is a prime example of McCartney's affection for "the old rooty-tooty music" (as producer George Martin once called it) of his father's generation. Any Beatles fanatics out there whose grandkids are actually called Vera, Chuck and Dave?

41. 'You've Got a Friend'

James Taylor (1971)
Putting capital 'L' in Lite FM, this '70s folk rocker made us all feel cuddly, safe and warm inside with this super-sappy Carole King snoozer about cheering up the lonely, sad and pathetic. This is the 'Had a Bad Day' of the '70s.

40. 'God Must Have Spent a Little More Time on You'

*NSYNC (1998)
Guys dig this song because they think chicks dig it. Chicks dig this song because they think guys actually mean it when they say they dig this song. God digs it because of the shout-out.

39. 'With Arms Wide Open'

Creed (2000)
Scott Stapp celebrated the birth of his son by proclaiming in his Eddie Vedder-wannabe growl, "We stand in awe, we've created life." Thankfully, he also had the self-awareness to admit, "If I had just one wish...I hope he's not like me."'

38. 'Alone Again (Naturally)'

Gilbert O' Sullivan (1972)
The guy's been stood up at the altar, his folks both dropped dead, even his God has deserted him. Now he's going to "treat" himself by jumping off a nearby tower. Oh, the humanity!

37. 'So Sick'

Ne-Yo (2006)
We've all been there. Post breakup, you find yourself sleeping in the T-shirt he left behind or refusing to wash the scent of her perfume from your pillow. Luckily, R&B's newest star put these emotions into words and gave us all the courage to finally move on.

36. 'Beth'

Kiss (1976)
Like Ringo, drummer Peter Criss got a token song on each Kiss album. How this henpecked apology got past uber-misogynist Gene Simmons, we may never know. Just imagine the razzing Criss must have taken whenever the missus phoned the studio and nagged him to come home.

35. 'She's Like the Wind'

Patrick Swayze (1987)
Just as we applauded Swayze as the dirty dancing man's man who refused to let Baby be put in a corner, the actor released this flimsy ballad. Though his singing isn't half-bad, the cheese factor caused the tune to dissipate as quickly as the air itself.

34. 'I'll Be Missing You'

Puff Daddy and The Family (1997)
Further confusing those who thought the Police's 'Every Breath You Take' was a love song, Puffy turned it into this sappy hip-hop tribute to his fallen friend B.I.G. Awkward moment of the year: Sting singing backup at the 1997 MTV VMAs.

33. 'My Heart Will Go On'

Celine Dion (1997)
After 'Titanic' broke every box-office record imaginable, Celine Dion's "love theme" from the film was inescapable to all but those under jury sequester. The bright side of the nauseating phenomenon? Years of sketch comedy material to come.

32. 'Think of Laura'

Christopher Cross (1982)
We are terribly sorry for the loss of Christopher's friend, Laura. And we do think she would laugh, not cry, if she heard the high-pitched vocals on this cheesy tribute. Did Christopher skip puberty?

31. 'Let Her In'

John Travolta (1976)
Vinnie Barbarino wouldn't be caught dead singing this, and Danny Zuko would probably sucker-punch its love-struck songwriter. "I'm different today," the aspiring singer-actor sang. Different from the characters that made his career, maybe: Here he plays a doormat.

30. 'Walking on Sunshine'

Katrina and the Waves (1983)
The title alone could qualify this hopelessly fizzy ditty. Optimism is for suckers!

29. 'Muskrat Love'

America (1976)
Yep, even semi-aquatic rodents got it on in the '70s. In addition to jitterbugging and tangoing, Muskrat Suzie and Sam enjoyed "doing it right" by candlelight. British lightweights America failed to crack the Top 40 with this ditty, but, unfortunately, the Captain & Tennille tried again three years later . . . and squirmed their way to No. 4.

28. 'Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go'

Wham (1984)
Maybe it was the way George Michael rhymed "go-go" with "yo-yo." Perhaps it's because he compared the sun to Doris Day. Whatever the reason, listen between the lines and you'll hear why the Whammer was left sleeping while his partner went out to boogie.

27. 'More Than Words'

Extreme (1991)
After this long-haired Boston foursome failed to hit big with heavy metal, they went straight for the sell-out ballad, complete with the requisite acoustic-guitars-on-stools video. More common at '90s high school dances than spiked punch.

26. 'Precious and Few'

Climax (1972)
With their shaggy hair and hip threads, these L.A. boys looked like rockers, but fructose -- not feedback -- poured out of their amps. This, their lone top 10 hit, was so sweet that it would be come a staple for TV commercials...alongside kiddies and puppies.

24. 'All Outta Love'

Air Supply (1980)
Robbed! That's what these Aussie wussies must feel about the indignity of seeing 23 titles above theirs. And they did everything right: woe-inducing string arrangements, insipid heartsick lyrics, a chorus that repeats itself 9,000 times -- with more and more emotion. Damn, this competition is tough.

23. 'Your Body Is a Wonderland'

John Mayer (2001)
We know, we know -- he's like, a respected blues guitarist now, right? But let's not forget that this boyish singer-songwriter once broke hearts with breathy, sugar soaked songs. God knows how he pulled off lyrics like "candy lips and bubblegum toes" without getting a beatdown by boyfriends everywhere.

22. 'You Light Up My Life'

Debbie Boone (1977)
Hey, it's not her fault -- Pat Boone's her dad. With a whopping 10 weeks spent at No. 1, this song falls squarely (and we do mean squarely) in the great tradition of spiritual treacle disguised as secular love songs.

21. 'True'

Spandau Ballet (1983)
Any band with the word "ballet" in its name is predestined to score high on the wuss meter. Add a lead signer who belts his lyrics with the overcooked, show-tune enthusiasm of Tony Hadley and the deal is sealed.

20. 'Such Great Heights'

Iron and Wine (2003)
The Postal Service originally delivered this love song with poppy synthesizers and sickeningly optimistic lyrics, so it has a level of wussness baked in. But have Iron and Wine cover it, put it on the 'Garden State' soundtrack and use it in an M&M's commercial, and you have yourself a wussy homerun.

19. 'Right Here Waiting'

Richard Marx (1989)
Richard Marx owes the public two apologies: One for the mullet and another for this mopey ballad, which still pops up just when we think it's safe to get our teeth cleaned.

18. 'I Believe I Can Fly'

R. Kelly (1996)
When Kenny G. covers your song, it's official -- your testosterone is waning. Backed by a full orchestra and choir, Kells' growing self-esteem left him poised in a cornfield ready for take-off. Now facing a child pornography trial, he probably wishes he really did have wings.

17. 'Close To You'

Carpenters (1970)
The Carpenter siblings laid the groundwork for an unparalleled career in low self esteem with their first big hit, a No. 1 tune written by Burt Bacharach and Hal David. Why do birds suddenly appear? Depends what kind. Vultures? Chicken hawks?

16. 'All By Myself'

Eric Carmen (1976)
Carmen's Raspberries were one of the power-pop firecrackers of the '70s. Going solo evidently sucked all the spark out of the poor shlub. This one gets the nod over 'Never Gonna Fall in Love Again,' another all-time pity party: It came first and charted higher.

15. 'Cry'

Johnny Ray (1951)
Poor 'ol Johnny Ray indeed. This pretty-boy '50s crooner didn't just sing about crying -- he practically cried about it. This gushy hit made teenage girls want to take this sad sack home and mother him. Their boyfriends just wanted to give him a real reason to cry.

14. 'Dear Mama'

Tupac (1995)
Code of the streets No. 1: Show love to no woman. Yet when 'Pac rapped, "Even as a crack fiend mama, you always was a black queen mama," he proved the rule's exception and caused thugs everywhere to wipe their eyes. One tear only, though. Any more than that, and you'd be a buster.

13. 'You Don't Bring Me Flowers'

Neil Diamond & Barbra Streisand (1978)
It's the merging of guilty pleasures. Neil meets Babs in a violin-ridden tale of love that's expired like their careers. "You don't bring me flowers; you don't sing me love songs..." Sounds like an episode of 'Dr. Phil.'

12. 'I Want It That Way'

Backstreet Boys (1999)
"Tell me why" every Backstreet Boys song didn't make its way to this list? A sonic assault of sappy that stuck in your head like a bullet, this song's cloying chorus and the Boys' accompanying choreography were just screaming for a playground beatdown.

11. 'Hello'

Lionel Richie (1984)
Over a spare piano melody, the R&B romantic -- and daddy to Nicole -- sings of unrequited love. The woman he loves has no idea he exists, but that's not the point. He really cares for her. After all, isn't that why we all stalk people?

10. 'Fix You'

Coldplay (2005)
These British softies apparently didn't get the memo that 'Dawson's Creek' had been cancelled when they wrote this weeper. Luckily, the producers of 'The O.C.' love syrupy ballads, and frontman Chris Martin managed to outwhine the show's mighty Cohen.

9. 'If'

Bread (1971)
The uncontested champions of wuss, these hair-parted-in-the-middle, slacks-wearing California boys have forgotten more classic whimperings than James Blunt will ever write. Nothing showed off sensitivity to the ladies like a 'Best of Bread' 8-track. By comparison, the Eagles were Slayer.

8. 'Do You Really Want to Hurt Me'

Culture Club (1983)
While most '80s icons were out scoring with models, Boy George spent his free time weeping in his studio. Torn apart by his turbulent love affair with his Club's closeted drummer, the cross-dressing pop queen poured his heart out on this mid-tempo tearjerker. Listen closely and you can almost hear his mascara running.

7. 'What's Left of Me'

Nick Lachey (2006)
Newly-divorced Nick got his heart broken by mean ol' Jessica, and it spawned this syrupy serenade. He may be "half the man," but getting half the money can't be all that bad, can it?

6. 'Longer'

Dan Fogelberg (1979)
Of the lawsuits holding musicians responsible for violent lyrics, comedian Denis Leary once quipped, "Does that mean I can sue Dan Fogelberg for making me into a pussy in the mid-'70s." After citing a couple of this song's Hallmark-card metaphors, the prosecution could rest.

5. 'Every Rose Has Its Thorn'

Poison (1988)
Poison's rampant hedonism was just a cry for help from the band's secret, inner wuss. If the lipgloss didn't give it away, lyrics like "instead of makin' love, we both made our separate ways" exposed the guys as a bunch of softies. Any real metalhead would know that roses are only cool when paired with guns or tattoos.

4. 'You're Beautiful'

James Blunt (2005)
It's the classic, tragic love story: Stoned man sees pretty girl on subway, girl exits with boyfriend, man loses will to live...all set to a bitchin' Spanish guitar riff menacing enough to evoke Wham's 'Careless Whisper.'

3. 'Ben'

Michael Jackson (1972)
Long before he was accused of anything unsavory, Michael Jackson's mind was in the gutter -- singing this screechy love song to a rat. Yep, Ben, the protagonist of the movie of the same name, was a heckuva guy, but he ate garbage. We wish we could say that rodent love songs stopped here, but see also 'Muskrat Love.'

2. 'Sometimes When We Touch'

Dan Hill (1997)
It doesn't get much softer than this soft-rock classic from a Torontonian who barely got it up for one more Top 40 hit a decade later. He wants to cuddle his beloved "til the fear in me subsides." By the sound of things, that could be awhile.

1. 'Shiny Happy People'

R.E.M. (1991)
Disowned by the band on its 2003 greatest-hits album despite being one of the critically adored "college rock" group's biggest chart successes, 'Shiny Happy People' is a case in point that irony doesn't always translate.(That's why they created emoticons ;-) Supposedly written in response to the horrific Tiananmen Square massacre in Beijing in 1989, the song finds poetic lyricist Michael Stipe borrowing from a bit of Chinese propaganda roughly interpreted as "shiny happy people holding hands." But the finished product was no trenchant political statement from a human-rights warrior exercising the power of his celebrity. Instead, it was an anthemic lobotomy, precisely the kind of pop puffery the band meant to skewer.

Time To Keep Up With the Earth’s Rotation

2008-02-01T15:38:00.000-06:00

I have always been fascinated by the concept of a Leap Year. It boggles my mind Julius Caesar’s people, who must have been fairly swamped with their complicated plots to murder him, still had time to figure out that the 365 day calendar wasn’t matching up with the Earth’s rotation, actually 365 days….and ¼.

How in the hell did they figure that out? Are we sure they got it right, because it’s a pretty nutty concept, frankly. If I think about it too hard my head starts to ache and I think I can actually feel the Earth start to spin faster. Ooh, none of that, we may end up with extra extra days. So eventually I just decide to give Caesar and his buddies the benefit of the doubt. A leap of faith.

And so here we are. Another Leap Year has cycled our way. In 2008 we get to insert that extra day we’ve all dutifully accrued over the past three years. A veritable windfall! How are you going to spend all this extra time? I’ve teamed up with BD at The Busy Dad Blog and Piper from Bliss in Bloom to tackle this very question. We’ve decided, in the spirit of Leap Year, to launch TAKE A LEAP OF FAITH 08, a month-long campaign to shake things up.

Spoiler Alert: It’s highly likely we will embarrass ourselves.

So each Friday in the month of February, we are going to share one LEAP OF FAITH that we’ve taken each week. A goal we’ve shelved for way too long. An idea that’s just been nagging away. Something that wrestles us out of our cozy comfort zone. You’ll have to tune in each Friday to learn the LEAP of the week. It could be singing in public. Trying a new sport. Taking a big stand with the boss. We’ll see how it unfolds. Send us your ideas. Share some of your great leaps. Take one with us.

In the meantime I can unveil my first LEAP OF FAITH for the month. I am here to announce the launch of my second blog, Fly Fish Chick. Fly fishing is my truest passion, and I’ve kept my eye on all the boys’ fishing blogs for quite awhile now, secretly wanting my own. Well, with the urging and support of TC at The Trout Underground, I’ve got one. The idea of authoring a second blog is daunting enough. But putting myself out there in this extremely male dominated sport is - to say the least - a bit of a leap.

So we’re off and running. Enjoy the series and by all means, if you want to join the campaign, come on along. Just think, at the end of the month it will be Friday February 29th and we can say Veni Vidi Vici!

Hopefully we won’t be taken down by any traitors in the process.

Buffalo! Buffalo!

2008-01-30T09:52:00.000-06:00

We went to Yellowstone a few years ago and Little Chick was determined to be the very first one to spot a buffalo. Armed with some fancy Zeiss binoculars she kept a keen watch...

This Deal Doesn't Pass The Sniff Test

2008-01-28T09:36:00.000-06:00

Little Chick is obsessed with Webkinz and Neopets. If you don't have a child who's into these online "pet" worlds, I will spare you the detailed explanation. But trust me, they're huge. It's a big deal for the kids to log on and earn points they can spend on digital toys & treats for their virtual pets. Yesterday Little Chick came screaming down the hallway completely thrilled and shouting that she had the greatest news ever.

“Mommy mommy mommy!! I was just on Neopets and I was racing against all these other people to get free specials from the Money Tree and I got one! I got one! I got one! I got a Rainbow Doug!”

“A Rainbow Duck? That sounds cute…” I replied without paying attention.

“No. Rainbow Duuuuug.” As she corrected me I could see she was beginning to realize she had no clue what she was saying.

“Spell it for me, baby” I asked.

And she did very clearly, “D-U-N-G.”

DUNG? I went to the computer to see what amazing deal she had just procured on behalf of her online pet and this is what I found:

With this caption:

“IF IT WASN'T SO SMELLY, EVERYONE WOULD WANT IT”

This is when I had to pull out some old power point presentations from my consulting days and explain to Little Chick the concept of “perceived value”. It may be rainbow colored and completely free, but when no one else wanted it, she should have researched this 'great deal' a little more closely.

But not too closely because after all, it is a steaming pile of manure.

Angels Don't Work For Nothin'

2008-01-22T20:53:00.000-06:00

Unfortunately musicians sometimes do.

Which is precisely why I must take this opportunity to evangelize about my current obsession, Will Hoge. I first learned about Will Hoge last September when I was getting ready for the Austin City Limits Music Festival. Each day for about two weeks I would work on my ACL strategy, reviewing the band schedules and stage locations. I would highlight my open timeslots and engage in expansive research to determine which band would make the cut for one of my precious openings. That’s how I found Will Hoge. I downloaded some of his early songs from Bird On A Wire and listened to them everyday. In my car, on the treadmill. I was totally hooked. By the time the festival arrived, Will Hoge was no longer a placeholder. He was highlighted on my personal ACL schedule as a MUST SEE.

Unfortunately there was a fire at ACL that day and it took several hours to get inside. I missed him.

I’ve tried to stalk him on his tour for the past few months but my real life persona as a homeroom mom and marketing consultant has utterly squelched my time on the road as a band groupie. So you can imagine my delight when I saw the listing: Will Hoge / Austin Texas / at Antone’s / Saturday January 19th.

I’ve had my eye on that show for weeks.

Somehow I thought I could squeeze in a little fishing adventure before the show. I woke up Saturday about 5 am, pulled my gear together and drove an hour south of Austin to fish on the Guadalupe. Amazing day. Great day. Cold cold cold day. I was chilled and completely wiped out by the time I got home. And in no mood to venture out for some live music. No possible way. I was in for the night, bundled-up under a comforter on the couch.

But something called to me. Some sadistic rock-n-roll angel spoke to me and said, “Go to Antone’s. Go see Will Hoge.” Oh no no no. Who was this annoying voice from beyond? Are you kidding me? I’m soooo cozy, and it’s soooo cold outside.

The voice prevailed and I pulled myself together. I knew I had about five nanoseconds to get the hell out of my house before I changed my mind. No time for a shower. Don’t tell, but I wore the same turtleneck and sweater I’d worn fishing all day. I know, I know, so gross. But I balanced it out with some smokin’ hot jeans & boots and gobs of lip gloss. Good Lord I was headed to Antone’s after all. I’m too old for this.

I navigated parking downtown. Found an ATM. And waited in line. Waited and waited and waited in line. I started reading flyers on the wall next to me. Hmmm, what was this picture of Janis Joplin? Whoa! A flyer that said “HAPPY 65th BIRTHDAY JANIS!! BORN JAN 19th 1943.”

Holy shit it was Janis Joplin’s Birthday.

What a cool Austin moment. Standing outside of Antone’s, on Janis’ birthday. Clearly she was the angel that kicked my ass into gear. And thank heavens she did…

Will Hoge far exceeded my bizarrely high expectations. He literally exploded onto the stage, putting a whole new spin on southern rock. The melodies were crisp. The lyrics haunting and poetic.

On the wild songs he would devour that guitar to the point of sublime. Like Otis Redding all jacked-up, he was kicking, sweating, spitting, and spewing out the passion. At times he seemed possessed. I couldn’t tell if I was at a concert or a revival. He was mule-kicking and knocking the mic stand like…like…well frankly, like Janis. Ultimately the crescendo of these big numbers would come to an end. The sounds of the guitar and drums melting away. I was left beaming, and exhausted just from watching. It was hard to imagine he had an ounce of voice left in him. And just at the point I was convinced he must be completely hoarse, just at that very moment he would open his mouth and these beautiful slow songs would just float out effortlessly. Like butterflies. Like syrup. Flowing right along with a soft fiddle and a lovely harmony.

It was magic. I was in love.

I mean the guy has an anchor tattoo on his arm. An anchor! How classic is that.

Needless to say I am so glad I went. Thank you Janis. But heavens, what if I hadn’t gone? What if I’d been too tired and too cold? What if I missed hearing him sing 'Silver Or Gold':

angels don't work for nothin'
i ain't askin' for silver or gold
one day you'll wake up to find that i've left you behind
and it'll just be 'cause you were so cold

Obviously this is a love song. A love lost song. But I can’t shake the notion…what happens to a band like this if the fans grow cold? What if we are just too tired to show up for the show. These bands aren’t asking for silver or gold. Or platinum. They’re looking for gigs. And fans. But what if we don’t show up and one day we wake up to find our favorite band is just gone. We’ll be left with nothing but big labels and mega pop stars.

So do me a favor and check out Will Hoge. If you like what you hear, spread the Word. Then step out and see some of your own local live music. Support the musicians that are slugging it out on neighborhood stages night after night after night. Sing along…shake your tail feathers…

Oh, and don’t forget to tip your waitress.