Do this and win free Birkenstocks

This may be the coolest thing that happened to me this week. I follow Bree on Work Clothes I Suppose and this past week she was talking about how she and her fiance recently purchased Birkenstocks.

Now, to be fair, they live in Seattle and Birkenstocks are practically formal wear up there. Nonetheless, I was reminded of the Birkenstocks I had in the early days of high school (junior high?) that I used to wear with socks. Yep. Socks. So I went online to see if I could find myself a pair of discounted Birkenstocks. Um. Well, Birkenstocks apparently don't go on discount. Unwilling to relive my high school days at an $80 or up price tag, I gave up on the hippie sandals.

The very next day, I was out at a volunteering event and the woman coordinating the event was wearing blue, rhinestone Birkenstocks. Playing the fool, I asked her if by any chance her shoes were the famed leather sandals. Of course they were. I gushed over them and told her that I had been looking just the day before and was dejected that I couldn't find a pair at the right price. "Oh," she said,"I have a pair in my car right now that I can't wear because they gave me a blister."

Now I was nervous. I never say no to someone's castoffs, but the ones she was wearing were flashy/fancy, which is not my current fashion preference. She went on to tell me that she had like nine pairs and could totally unload the ones in her car. I just had to remember at the end of the afternoon to ask her.

So I had an internal conflict. Was she just being nice and I was supposed to forget? Well, I wasn't that conflicted. We were, after all, talking about free shoes. At the end of our shift, I "remembered" our conversation from earlier. And, look! I got free shoes.

Seattle vacation celebrates Sarah's birthday

As these things happen, Mom posted a lot of pictures over the weekend. She was in Seattle with Sarah, celebrating Sarah's birthday, so there were a lot of photo opps.

After seeing a new crop, Todd asked me, "Why is our sister so beautiful?" I have no answer.

Sarah has always been extremely photogenic. I think it's because she has an honest smile. Whereas I've oft been accused of having a fake/forced smile, Sarah is always very present in her pictures. But beauty is just the beginning. Sarah is also passionate and knowledgeable and she has a heart for service. She bridges the outdoorsy - indoorsy thing with astute skill. She is a person with friends from way back that she keeps in touch with and that says something. Hold close people who can tell you about the friend they've had since they were little. These are the people that will grow with you in life and invest in knowing your deep down inner guts. Sarah is one of these people.

Happy birthday, Sarah.

Anniversary vacation to Homer, Alaska

Mom and Dad just celebrated their anniversary in Homer, Alaska. It's become a bit of a vacation destination for Mom and Dad. A few years ago, Sarah and I were lucky enough to be up in Alaska for a trip to homer and were able to take the ferry, The Danny J, to Halibut Cove and eat at The Saltry. The ferry picks passengers up in Homer and carries them over to Halibut Cove around dinner time. Correct me if I'm wrong, Mom and Dad, but I'm pretty sure the ferry and The Saltry are only open during select times of the year, but there are a few residents who call Halibut Cove year-round.

Vintage Ralph Lauren holds a place in Sarah's heart

Sarah's red shirtSarah posted a new profile picture today of herself wearing a vintage Ralph Lauren plaid button down that she's had for years. Family, it reminded me of "This Shirt is Old and Faded" by Mary Chapon Carpenter. Anyway, sort of in jest, I pulled all of the photos I could locate of Sarah wearing this shirt off of Facebook. They span many years. It's remarkable this shirt has lasted this long considering that Sarah purges her closet, like, every two weeks or something. This shirt has made it through many slashings. And it still looks good. Rock that hot hippie look, Sarah. That shirt has become part of your skin.

Dearest Dad - Happy Birthday

Dearest Dad,

Today is your birthday. Today you are 61 years young. Today I want to tell you how grateful I am to have you as my father.

I know you may read this and roll your eyes. But after you roll your eyes I hope you smile because you have one of the most infectious smiles around and on your birthday you should smile. When I think of your smile I envision that picture of you Mom has in her old Pi Beta Phi frame where you are grinning from ear to ear. It is one of my favorite pictures of you.

There are so many aspects of my life that are a reflection of you. From my endless love for the outdoors and adventure to my affinity for singer/songwriter music you have contributed to all of it. Even my inability to tell a joke comes from you. Yeah, Dad, you may think your jokes are super funny but I’ve found that most people give nothing but a blank response after I attempt one of your jokes.

My life is more beautiful because of you. It was my memory of your love for Colorado that brought me here 4 years ago. Every day I appreciate this beautiful state because you taught me to revel in natural beauty for all it has to offer as one day it may be gone.   Really though, there is nothing like hanging off the side of a cliff with the Rockies stretched out before you or finishing a class III rapid boat in tack to make you appreciate life.

I am a stronger person because of you. Growing up you always encouraged us to try new things and even if we weren’t the best at them to keep trying.  You never hesitated to offer tough advice even if we didn’t want to hear it. These are just some of the things that have made me stronger.

In no way is this an exhaustive list of how you have influenced me throughout my life.  All I hope to accomplish by writing this is to begin to demonstrate how grateful I am to be your daughter.

I would not be who I am today without you.

I love you.

Sarah

Everything is Awesome (Weekend Update)

Good Tuesday, family! J and I were about town (though finally stayed in town) this past week.

The start of the week was odd as I missed Monday because of my trip to Atlanta for Mary's wedding. I have an assistant that just started working on my project and her first day was Monday...oops.

Well, her second day was just as strange because instead of going to the office, we went to The Galleria for the company's Users Group. It a big annual conference that we hold each year for our customers. It started with, like, 14 attendees and has grown large enough to fill a ballroom. That's pretty cool. Employees were invited top attend the keynote.

Wednesday at the office, we invited our customers to tour the office. Mom, Dad and J have had the pleasure, so they know that it's a real treat. Everyone loves the ping pong room. Also, this meant during-working-hours-drinking. That's pretty cool. Because of my winning personality, I was chosen as an elevator greeter. My coworker Josh captured this picture of me in action.

Wednesday evening, J and I went to Papasitos with Jason, Emily and some other friends for two-for-one fajita night. Since we had a big party, we were placed in a room with other big parties...which were birthday parties. So we heard the Papasitos birthday song several times. Do to copyright issues and it being a Spanish restaurant, it's not the real birthday song. Not even close.

Friday, I went to CVS Pharmacy to pick up some drugs. While there, I also picked up some nail polish. So, because I'm strange and not patient, I started painting my nails while in line. It started by painting my thumb then went from there. I finished one hand in the pharmacy line, then had wait in another line to buy some stamps. So, I started on the other hand.

There was this kind older woman that was my cashier and she needed to take a swig on her Arizona Tea, so I had time to paint. Anyway, with fresh and wet nails, I could really maneuver the checkout process. So my kind checkout lady took my card out of my wallet, put my stamps into my bag, helped me sign my receipt and then put the $20 I took out into my wallet. All the while, she was kind and said she "understood" that sometimes a girl just needs to "pretty up."

Sunday was church as usual in the morning. Though this week the band was all new. That was pretty cool. Since J has been back, he's had the opportunity to play quite a bit, but this week he chose to sit it out.

We finished out Sunday with a trip to Little Woodrow's in Rice Village to watch the USA World Cup Game. Here's a picture from a happier moment before that final goal.

Sarah's 6 Picks for Colorado Summer Playlists

Temperatures are rising making it the perfect time to pick tunes that will get you through this 'cruel, cruel summer'. Below are a few songs that make me think of riding bikes, evenings in the park, mountain exploring and brewery hoping with friends. Essentially all things that populate a Colorado summer.

Go Outside - The Cults

With Colorado's 300 sum odd days of sunshine it is hard not to want to 'Go Outside' every day of the week and this cheery little tune provides the perfect inspiration that will have you running to the nearest exit.

Young Blood - The Naked and The Famous

This song started on my skiing mix this last winter but with the warming weather it has become a staple in my anything outdoor playlist. When I hear this song I am instantly transported to running full speed through winding dirt trails along Colorado's front range with the city to my left and the Rockies to my right.

Closer to Fine - Indigo Girls

Indigo Girls will always have a special place in my heart. This song in particular I associate with summer fun in the sun. In fact on my first camping trip this summer my friend Mckenzie and I were driving back and this song came on the radio and we both starting belting it out. That is when I knew we would be close friends. Even if it was an entirely cliche moment, it was still summer-tastic.

Old Pine - Ben Howard

Dreamy and whimsical music often feels my heart when I find myself enjoying everything Colorado has to offer. For me, this song inspires thoughts of silent mountain vistas and friends hanging around a campfire laughing.  Life really can't get any better than laughter, love, and mountains.

Journey through the past (Neil Young cover) - James Mercer

When I hear this song it reminds me of sitting around a dying campfire with good friends. Each of us is silent in smoldering reflection as the smoke rises and the embers crack and spit.

Rocky Mountain High - John Denver

Last but certainly not least this classic Colorado summer song. It doesn't matter who I am with, when this song comes on everyone in ear shot takes pause as if it were some sort of anthem. It is in these moments that I am grateful that life has brought me to this spectacular place and that I am lucky enough to call it home. In reality who could be unhappy with great beer, delectable food and mountain vistas.

Cheers! May your summer be filled with good company, grand adventures, and unbounded love.

He asked for her hand. You won't believe what happened next...

This weekend, J and I went to Atlanta (Hot-lanta, Wedding-lanta) for my dear friend Mary Nevaire's wedding. Mary and I met in college through Kappa Delta and bonded over Piggy Wiggly and collared greens. Mary is Southern through and through and I think found comfort in my 1-drop Sourthern-ness that I claim from having family immediate family from below the Mason-Dixon.

Mary and Austin's Wedding Story

Mary is a close friend that I could tell many stories about...like that time...well the Internet doesn't need to know about any of that. Seeing Mary and Austin get married was a long time coming. When I met Mary in school, she was "single." She and Austin made the decision together before they left for college that when they were not in the same state, that they were able to see other people at their choosing. Austin was going to Georgia Tech. I think that for a lot of people that would spell disaster, jealousy, whatever, but for Mary and Austin it worked. And Mary did date other people, but throughout college Austin remained a constant.

After school, Mary moved back to the South and was able to finally live near Austin and really give dating a-go. They lived in Nashville a while, and I think it was sometime around then that Mary started to think more seriously about getting married. Then, as life happens, her grandmother and grandfather who she was very close with, passed. And something about that BIG LIFE MOMENT propelled the pair toward marriage. It may have also had something to do with Austin getting assigned to Hong Kong for work, but you never can tell, right?

So during their engagement, Mary moved back home to Atlanta to plan her wedding and prepare for the big move across the world and Austin went on to Hong Kong. Six months later, on a warm summer day in June, Mary and Austin got married in a beautiful ceremony in her parents' backyard.

I should also add that Mary is a fantastic writer. You might even call her a feminist, locavore blogger. Her writing can be found at nevairethevagabond.com.

Other Pictures of Our Atlanta Adventures

In which Emily Pontificates about Pet Ownership

I think I finally get it, Mom and Dad. I understand your reticence to acquiring more pet animals, despite the pleading of your adorable children.

Over the weekend, my friend’s 19-year-old daughter posted pictures of kitten that she found. They live in a somewhat rural area in Texas, so it’s not unheard for animals to get dumped or for cats and dogs to run amuck and just, you know, answer nature’s call and willy-nilly reproduce.

The kitten looks like if you took a cute baby cat and put it in the garbage disposal. Homecat looks a bit worse for the wear, if you know what I’m saying.

So I see this cat on Facebook, and see her plea to have someone find a good, loving home for the “adorable” cat and ALL I CAN SEE IS DOLLAR SIGNS.

You see, my friend’s family is already caring for one cat her 12-year-old daughter found earlier this year. It was one of those, “it adopted us” stories. Yea, you mean, you put out food and the cat kept coming back? Hm. That’s a real thinker. Wonder how that happened?

After her daughter, “became too attached to let it go.” My friend captured the cat and brought it into her home. Well, I’m sure to no surprise to you, Mom and Dad, that cat came with some invisible price tags.

When it started to rip up the leather furniture just doing its cat thing, my friend paid to get it declawed – which she was told by some well wishers that declawing is inhumane…I would imagine it’s more inhumane to beat the cat with a frying pan after it rips up a several thousand dollar couch…just saying.

THEN, after a routine checkup, followed by a special test (caching, caching) the cat was diagnosed with cat HIV. Apparently, FIV is pretty common, but it is like the number one or two killer of cats and even cats living with it and being treated for it will die at a much younger age than their non FIV counter-cats.

…But her daughters were so attached!

Animals, even domesticated ones, once free, want to get away from you. If you can catch them, they’re likely quite ill and unable to stir up the energy to run – or, in the case of The Little Dog, too pregnant.

I’m starting to think that a pet purchase is a lot like buying a car. You can buy a used one, but the less reputable the source the more likely it is you get a lemon. And, buying a used car, you go in knowing that in order to get it to run for any period of time, you’re likely to have to put in some money for repairs sooner than later. Dogs, like cars, need regular maintenance, to run for years to come. Unfortunately, cars come with insurance and dogs just come with Big Vet Bills. #DanteAteABall #AggieHeartWorms

I guess what I’m coming to realize is that there is a difference between, “that animal can be saved” and “I can save that animal.”

Lake Tahoe Trip with the Girls

I'm typing this up on my lunch break, so how much I'll be able to write is really dependent on how long before officemate returns to his desk.

This past weekend, I went on a trip with my sorority sisters to Lake Tahoe in Incline Village, Nevada.

We try to take this trip annually and this time marked our fourth year. Past years we've gone to New Orleans, some-river-in-Texas and Kansas City. So far, we've been blessed to have the same girls be able to attend. It's always a good time getting catch up on what's-been-going-ons for the past year, because really, who uses the phone anymore?

This year was a BIG ONE because our friend Brittany is about to leave for Peru for two years in the Peace Corps. We're planning on Girlfriend Getaway-ing to Peru one of those two years but have no solid plans yet. Another BIG DEAL was that my dear friend Chelsea announced to the group that she was engaged! Chelsea and her fiance James have come to visit me a couple of time in Houston recently and so I'd say I can confidently say that they're now "couple friends" with us. (You know, friends that you can go out with as a couple where no one wants to secretly kill a member of the quad.) I've known Chelsea for several years, and I've seen her entire relationship with James, so it's really cool to get to see them (nothing works here but a cliche) 'take it to the next level' or 'seal the deal' or 'smash the plate' (is that something people say? Opa!).

On the trip, we were able to book two adjoining rooms with a passage way between the two so we could move back and forth as we wanted to. Friday we went into the village and did a little bit of shopping, though there wasn't much shopping to be done...Incline Village isn't super touristy which is nice unless you're looking for a souvenir tee-shirt. Also, since when are all souvenirs Made in China? Doesn't that defeat the point? There was one shop selling locally made crafts, but the woman working at the shop - it was a quilting shop - had a total attitude. She was so rude!

The seven of us were admiring the crafts in her shop and I saw that she made some smaller quilted items. I said, "oh, you should consider quilting dog collars." She balked and said, "I could never do that, I think people who dress there dogs up are disgusting."

Um, well, oops.

I was really irritated because I totally was turned off by this woman but it was the ONLY shop that we could find that sold local stuff. So because of her bad attitude I did not patronize her shop.

Saturday was the day we’d set aside for hiking. Chelsea was just returning from a walking tour of Spain, so she pitched to us that we walk a 8ish mile round-trip hike. All of the girls agreed, though I’m sure that many were suppressing an urge to say, “no” as to not be the only one who would rain on Chelsea’s long-hike parade.

It was a really nice day for a hike, the snow and rains from the previous week were gone as were the clouds from the day before. So we set out on our hike, maps in hand. Along the way we me some British women who tried to rent us property in Austin. Before we knew it, we very clearly not on our intended path. Somewhere around mile seven we stopped for peanut butter sandwiches and hotel-stolen jam. At this point, half of our party split to go home. But four of us braved on – and on – and on. Yea, don’t trust bikers when they say that the lake is “just around the corner.” By that time we had figured out where the hell we were and knew that there would be a pond that would serve as a logical end point to our hike. We made it.

When we got home, my pedometer said that we’d hiked 18 miles…just a small amount off from the original eight that Chelsea said…and 40,000 steps. Later that evening, Sarah Michelle and I went to the consierge to ask about a recommendation for a spa that was cheaper than the one the hotel offered. Yea, classy, right? Well, so we got to talking about our day and about our hike and next thing we knew, one or the women hands us complimentary vouchers for use of the amenities at the hotel spa. So it was only the steam room, sauna, relaxation station and showers that we could use, but that’s more spa than I’ve ever had and yea, it was totally free. Awesome.

There was this group of women in the spa with us, you know, the LOUD, RICH and ANNOYING type? They asked our group which package we had gotten (all which started around $400) and I felt shammmme, shame, shame, shame. The free one. All of the women thought this was quite hilarious, and then, to my surprise, admitted that they snuck in their own champagne so they didn’t have to buy it from the hotel. That was pretty funny.

Sunday’s highlight was a chartered boat ride around Lake Tahoe, just for us girls. It was Beautiful (with an intentional capital B) but, as I told Mom and Dad, was no Alaska. The boat ride was so cool, the weather was so perfect, the tide was so right, the captain was so creepy. That happened. It was his second chartered boat ride of his liffffe, but still, really man? He asked one of our girls if he could shoot a photo of just her on the boat, because her “sailing outfit was so perfect.” It was a short dress.

We got off the boat alive and really no worse for the wear. After all, it is that shit that happens on vacations that we will talk about for years to come. Like that time that they accidentally didn’t have our booking in New Orleans and instead gave use the pent house suite? Or that time the firefighters in the firehouse across from our hotel (same trip) invited us to stay the night. The fire wasn’t the only thing that was smoking, if-you-know-what-I’m-sayin’. I mean they were hot, not that anything was actually on fire.

Anyway…anyway, maybe the oddest thing coming out of the trip was just how many times we were asked if we were visiting for a bachelorette party. No. I guess we’re just that age. I guess it’s not that often you see a group of seven single women traveling together, getting along.

So, I know I’m lucky. And I’m so appreciative I have these women in my life.

Friends, Food and Satisfaction

Good day family,

I meant to write up this tale and recipe last week but quickly became distracted by other life happenings. So without further ado I present: Friends, Food and Satisfaction.

Thursday, 5:30 p.m.

My friend Mckenzie arrives at my apartment for our weekly run. Quickly she changes and we set out towards city park. With Dante trotting gaily beside me she and I chat as we lightly jog the 3 blocks that stand between my place and the park. Once we arrive at the entrance to the park each of us open our gaits, lengthen our strides and breathe deep the cool spring air. “Today is the perfect day for a run” I think to myself as we make the first turn onto the path that borders the edge of the park. Quickly Mckenzie, who is a few inches taller than me, bounds ahead of me. I struggle to keep up feeling each foot fall against the gravel is not quite enough to propel me far enough forward in order to catch up. But I try. Within moments she is a good 50 feet in front of me as I huff and puff attempting to minimize the distance between us. I should also mention here that we were running uphill. As the terrain flattens I gain on her and feel my body relax into a rhythm.

Growing up Dad would often coax us kids into running or biking with him when he went on his weekend runs. At the time I remember feeling reluctance towards early morning exercise, but now, as an adult I am thankful for those moments and the exercise wisdom Dad passed on during those early morning sessions. As my body relaxes into the rhythm of running I can hear Dad’s breathing lesson echoing through my mind, “In, two, three, four…out, two, three, four”. As my feet land against the loose gravel my breathing begins to match my cadence. This is the space in which running becomes “easy” or as some people call it “the runner’s high”. Before long I am only 10 feet behind Mckenzie at which point she slows down to run alongside Dante and I. Towards the end of our run we crest one final hill and the city of Denver with the Rocky Mountains as a back drop lays before us in its entire spring glory.

After picking up a few items at one of the many grocery stores in close proximity to my place Mckenzie and I return to my place to make dinner. For this evening we have selected broiled brussel sprouts with salmon. When I chose this recipe I honestly didn’t think I would be as easy or delicious as it turned out to be. Below are the ingredients and directions needed to replicate this tasty dish:

Ingredients: - 14 cloves of garlic (I didn’t use this much but if you really like garlic this is a great recipe for you) - ¼ c of olive oil - 2 tbl sp of fresh herbs (oregano, basil, rosemary) - 1 tsp of salt - ¾ tsp of ground pepper - 6 c of Brussels sprouts, trimmed and sliced (I just did enough to feed the two of us plus a little leftover) - ¾ c of white wine - 3 lbs of salmon fillet (I just picked up 1 lb for the two of us and I still had leftovers) - Lemon wedges

Directions: (as always this is a guide not strict directions) 1. Preheat oven to 450°F. 2. Mince 2 garlic cloves and combine in a small bowl with oil, 1 tablespoon oregano, 1/2 teaspoon salt and 1/4 teaspoon pepper. Halve the remaining garlic and toss with Brussels sprouts and 3 tablespoons of the seasoned oil in a large roasting pan. Roast, stirring once, for 15 minutes. 3. Add wine to the remaining oil mixture. Remove the pan from oven, stir the vegetables and place salmon on top. Drizzle with the wine mixture. Sprinkle with the remaining 1 tablespoon oregano and 1/2 teaspoon each salt and pepper. Bake until the salmon is just cooked through, 5 to 10 minutes more. Serve with lemon wedges.

After consuming a wonderful meal in the warmly lit courtyard of my apartment building Mckenzie and I sat chatting and laughing at life, love and the pursuit of happiness. It is these simple moments that make up a life worth living. If anybody ever tells you differently they are probably trying to sell something.

Travel and BIG Life Moments Update

Let’s start with the most exciting news. Mr. Sanders graduated from LSU this weekend with a degree in Construction Management and is employed!

Todd and Nick welcomed several of Nick’s family members into their home this weekend to celebrate the occasion. Nick’s father even flew in from Alaska.

After the ceremony, Nick, Todd and family drove up to New Orleans for dinner at WINO (second time mentioned on the blog..remember Christmas?) and then some gambling. There was a fancy dinner thrown in there somewhere in which Todd ate ox tail and some sort of liver.

The next day, they were off to Pensacola where I believe they are right now. They’re likely sitting on a beach and drinking something delightful.

Dad is overseas this week in The Hague. I have no idea what he’s doing over there but I do know that it’s pretty because he sent us this nice picture:

I also know that Dad forgot how to tell time because he called mom at 1:30 a.m. one morning thinking that it was 10:30 p.m. and that Mom was in Alaska. Both Dad and I got an earful about that one. Remember, family, Mom does not like to be woken up by phone calls in the middle of the night.

Dad returns at the end of this week, so we wish him a safe and worry free flight. This coming weekend, according to the Mom report, she and Dad are going to a dinner at an important political figure’s house. The gallery is impressed.

Meanwhile, Mom and I drove up to the Underwood ranch this weekend for Kaitlyn’s birthday celebration. It was a BIG moment because Mom has never met the Underwoods, well any of them other than Jarrod. Though odd sidenote, she met one set of his grandparents on a random trip to Houston a while back.

Anyway, we arrived Saturday midafternoon. Mom swears that I “almost rolled the car” when driving into the ranch. I admit that I was driving a bit on the fast side and I was coming up a gravel road. I totally forgot that the road splits (I admit that I forget every time) and, with gusto, yanked my wheel to turn the car to take the other road. Well, now I know, when on gravel, don’t yank the wheel. We skidded a bit, though I believe that we were never in terrible danger. I directed the car into some rougher terrain and it quickly came to a halt. Just wanted to put that all out there on the Internet before Mom goes spreading rumors that I almost killed her in the Matrix.

Per Kaitlyn’s birthday request, we had an evening crawfish boil. Mom, to my surprise, went along with my plan to rescue one of the crawfish and walked with me down to the pond to let it free. Though she has told me several times since then that the crawfish is likely dead, drowned in the mud. I’d like to think that he’s happily scuttling along somewhere doing his lil’ crawfish thing, thanking his lucky stars for the big, white rescuer.

I saw Mom off in her rental car, Sunday afternoon and quite honestly have been chilling like a villain since then. I had grand designs to wash my car and laundry yesterday afternoon, but ended up taking a long nap on the couch with the little dog and the going to the grocery. But hey, it can always wait until today, right?

A Night with Evita (and Mom and Carol)

Last night, Mom, our friend Carol and I got to see a traveling Broadway show, “Evita.” It was one of those nights in Houston that makes me think I could stay here forever. It was a cool 70ish degrees with a nice breeze, result of a front that blew in earlier this week.

After nailing a piece of garbage to my pantry wall (a disgarded piece of metal that I pull out of my neighbors trashcan that morning) (It’s a shelf), I walked to the couple of blocks over to Carol’s converted duplex.

Mom and Carol were on the porch enjoying some wine. In a way that I feel I can never be a natural at, Carol had done the cool hostess thing and laid out a feast of olives, cheeses, sausage and crackers. You might even call it charcuterie.

I pass by Carol’s porch almost nightly, so it was quite the treat to get to swing on the swings that I’ve envied so many evenings. We sat and chatted with Carol until it was time to leave for the show (which, in review, I notice that I did not say that it was at TUTS.)

Of course, true to Macrander woman nature, we ended up running a few minutes late to the show. For time’s sake, we valeted the Matrix for a cool $20, which Mom insisted on paying. I’m sure wherever they parked the Trix, it felt fancy next to all the luxury vehicles.That was, of course, until the Trix saw its neighbor Astro Van, which was also valeted. Props to that owner.

After a short while in the holding space, we were lead to our seats, which offered a pleasant view at the Matinee level. It’s also worth mentioning that those seats were very comfortable, maybe too comfortable.

All three of us were newbies to this musical, which is about the life and rise to fame of Eva Paron, a noted – say reveared – actress and political figure in Argentina. I’d read the synopsis before going into the show, which proved to be helpful as much of the show is singing, singing, singing, with very little dialogue.

The dancing was amazing and left me awed by the physical prowess of the actors. Also, I hope at least one of them is wearing a Fitbit. I’d be very curious to know how many steps is in a show with so much movement.

I wished coming out of the show that I had more knowledge of Argentine history. The show ends with, “and then her body was gone for 17 years.” Mom, Carol and I were left kinda saying…”what??” as we walked out of the theater and into the crowd of people waiting for valeted cars.

We headed home back to the little neighborhood that was already sleeping for the night. I brought Mom up to see my piece of garbage nailed to the wall and to say goodnight to Agdog.

Then I went to bed, humming, “Don’t cry for me Argentina…”

Bird Brains

My temporary officemate just bought his 12-year-old daughter a parakeet for her birthday. He’s a blue baby and hand raised (the bird, not necessarily my coworker). No $15 Petco purchase for my officemate. Apparently his bird has pedigree.

Prior to the purchase, we talked quite a bit about bird ownership. I got to tell him all about our family adventures with mean Keeter and sweet Neon. How Keeter died from a brain hemorrhage after flying into a wall when we moved to the Katy house and how Neon died by lethal injection after a large mass was discovered in her main cavity.

His family settled on a bird after deciding that any other animal would be too messy and too much work. Both kids have kept a fish alive for more than a year, so it was time, by his estimation, to move to something more land-animal-like.

I did tell him that birds are not a care-free pet. I’ll never forget moving out of the Kingwood house and seeing all of the seeds, feathers and poop left behind from Keeter that had been hidden behind the dresser his cage lived on. I did also tell him that birds, like fish and dogs, can get ill and quickly need pricey vet intervention for life-saving measures. Because sometimes it’s better (read easier) to spend some money than have to teach your preteen child about the value of life. (Thanks Dad for forking over the cash to humanely end Neon’s journey here on Earth.)

My coworker asked me what he should be prepared for as a new bird parent. I told him that with Keeter and Neon, we had one nice, friendly bird that loved to chatter and run around on the ground and one mean bird that never learned to talk and bit everyone. Birds are like cats. Some are nice and some, for some reason, suck. There’s not much science to it. It’s just rolling the dice.

A benefit to owning a caged animal, I suppose, is that no one has to walk it ever. Now, I love walking Aggie, but if no one in my house wanted to do the walking, I could see how it would be an issue. I do think it is funny though that these smaller pets are used, it seems, as starter pets. They’re like Hooked on Phonics for dog ownership.

Having a bird won’t trick my colleague’s daughter into no longer wanting a dog. And truth be told, if he would’ve been the one to walk the dog, then he’ll likely also be the one scrubbing the poop out of the bird cage on the weekends.

All this being said, I think birds make great pets. I’ve occasionally thought about adding a bird to my happy family with Aggie, but for now come to the conclusion that there is just no room for a bird. Oh yea, and J hates pet birds. But he also was resistant to the idea of getting a dog…and we see how that turned out…

Curmudgeon Chronicles - Lost Youth

At least for guys, our minds tend to get stuck in the age range of about 18-25. No matter how old we get, or the changes that come into our lives, our mental image of ourselves is in that time when we were, “like a rock,” least bounded by responsibility and complication. The potential for our lives’ trajectories were still open to us and not determined by choices already made and realities realized. Though our horizons may expand as we gain experience, we largely cling to the cultural experiences that shaped us during this time. Maybe it is because, while these are the years of greatest potential, they are also the years when we are making the choices that will most shape our lives. There is always a special quickening, though, when we hear the music that formed the backdrop of our youth. So it always comes as a surprise when we catch a reflection of some paunchy gray-haired man in a window and realize that that strange old person is us. We ignore the realities when we stare straight on into the mirror in the morning only seeing ourselves from the familiar angle that has changed only incrementally over the years and benefits from the sucked in gut. It is those shocks of the odd angles that others see and sudden realizations or our inability to run, lift, play like we once did that catch us off guard and shock us with the truth.

It was just such a shock that I experienced the other night. We attended a concert by a guitar player, songwriter named David Bromberg. Until I left home in the late 70s to attend graduate school in Arizona, my music experience was largely dominated by what we called top 40s radio. FM radio with specialized stations, that carried broader musical spectrums, were only just emerging. For the most part, we had only heard the top 40 hits at any one point in time. I was only vaguely aware of genres like blues, bluegrass, and jazz. But the music scene was also exploding at this time. The divisions between rock and folk and country were disappearing. I also was discovering an entire awareness of music that people were tapped into that I had been previously unaware of. This was influential music and performers that were often shaping the music that the pop artists were distilling and presenting to the masses. Knowledge of these performers was a special badge of coolness, at least in my mind, and made you feel a special sense of superiority when people perused your record collection and asked, “who is David Bromberg, or Doc Watson, or The Leo Kotke.”

Bromberg was, is, an excellent guitar player who surrounds himself with other excellent musicians and plays a diverse palette of music from blues to bluegrass. Though I had never seen him in person, I had heard enough concert recordings to know that he peppered his performances with wise-cracks and mid-song despairing love-lost stories and been-done-wrong diatribes that leave the audience shouting "whoo" when he strikes a nerve of shared heartache or indignity that everyone has felt at one time or another. So when mom discovered that he would be playing at UAA, I was excited to re-immerse myself in the world of the hip insider and, yes, youthful righteousness that I had once associated with DB.

I first realized that I might be in trouble when miss iPad research (mom) asked me to estimate how old DB is. Knowing that I am close to 61 and he is older than me, I generously guessed 68, fully expecting him to be closer to my age and much more accomplished at a young age during the 1970s. “No,” she said, “he’s 75.” Still, I was hopeful of catching the spark and returning to what was. After all, the people who know about DB are the same people who now know about Nickel Creek and going to their concerts you see the entire spectrum.

I badgered mom and we got there early. I might admit to ridiculously early, but that is never really possible in my mind. As people filtered in, I realized that this was an entirely over the hill group of people. There were gray hair and paunches everywhere and even a bit of doddering going on. There were old men with pony tails, even bald pony tails, and women who had once been hippy chicks but were now gardeners and grandmothers. There were canes for Chrissakes. Wait, where are the cool people? Yes, people our age know about DB, but aren’t there a lot of youngsters that know about him too. I did spot one 30 something guy with a hot 20 something girl, but otherwise, if the hair wasn’t gray, it was dyed. Is that the extent of cool in Anchorage?

DB and his band came on stage and burned their telecasters into a blues song, but, the energy wasn’t there. He looked like an old man with baggy jeans pulled too high. Actually, the music was there technically. I could close my eyes and hear the mellow voice and bluesy runs of a tight band. As long as my eyes were closed, I could call up the years when this music was so dear. Several times he went into his mid-song asides and the audience and I enjoyed them, but there was a disconnect. When he did a soliloquy about losing the love of his life because of his wayward behavior, or, about how that b done him wrong, we all knew that these experiences were far in his past and far in ours. We are now a generation that would be more likely mourning the loss of long time friends and life partners to the big C than the hot passions of youthful intrigue. That is not to say that those experiences do not continue to burn in our hearts, but, that we have surrounded those yearnings with scar tissue, developed wisdom, and traded cool for connoisseur.

The musicianship was sublime, though there were missed licks that never would have happened 35 years ago. Almost fittingly, he did not perform the songs that he is known for, like “Mr. Blue” and “I Like to Sleep Late in the Morning.” Those were for a different time. The third encore and final song of the evening was performed quietly out in front of the microphones to a rapt and silent auditorium. Instead of a rousing sendoff, it was a sweet goodnight and subtle goodbye.

And, if you listened closely, you could just hear the early snores.