Can I Get Your Autograph?

I’ve never been one of those girls who attends concerts on a regular basis.  One concert every year or two has been my norm.  This summer, however, has been the exception.    

Artists amaze me.  All artists.  Painters, photographers, designers.  There’s just something about singers and musicians, though, that leaves me in a state of awe.  Maybe it’s the fact that part of their talent is an innate ability they were born with.  That they sound like heaven, roasted duck, and all things wonderful wrapped together yet have had little or no formal training.  All I know is I was not blessed with such talent, so I appreciate it in others. 

The cool thing is these artists are just like you and me.  Yes, they may be famous now, but they grew up running around in mismatched outfits like you and me.  They ate the nasty chicken nuggets at school, just like us.  They’ve had similar doubts, problems, heartaches.   Which is why I don’t understand people that fret over getting their autograph. 

I just want to start off by saying that I don’t dislike people who stand in line to get someone’s autograph.  I just simply don’t understand it entirely. 

 An autograph is often used as proof that you have, in fact, “met” this famous person.   When I meet someone new I try to get to know a bit about them.  Ask them a few questions, answer theirs.  Then, if I were to see that person again someday, I’d at least have some recollection of having met them.  And I would guess they’d recognize me as well.    

I don’t feel that standing in line and answering the one question an award winning singer might ask (How do you spell your name?) is “meeting” someone.  I know they would never recognize me again, and having their autograph isn’t going to change how great their music already is.  I still got to see them in concert, and if someone doesn’t believe that I got to witness their breathtaking performance because I have no autograph to shove in their face, then I say let it be.  Let it be, and know that while their criticisms and verbal attacks are approaches they use to feel better about their life, you were actually out living yours. 

C. Jam and the Mystery Man

If you’re a country fan, I admit that Wisconsin is the place to be.   With more than 4 big time festivals, you’re bound to spot at least one of your favorite country artists, without fail, every year.   You’re also bound to spot at least 4 dozen drunken hooligans wearing cut off jean short shorts and t-shirts that say “I’m in the mood”.  And hey, you might even be lucky enough to spot the 50 year old beer-bellied man wearing nothing but a grin and basketball shorts. 

I was lucky. 

I absolutely LOVE country music, so aside from all of the shenanigans caused by loud, obnoxious girls attempting to sing all the words to songs but fade out because they realize they don’t, it was pretty amazing.  I could do without those beach balls they hit around, though. 

Usually when I think of live singers, I picture okay performances with unpleasant acoustics and slightly off key singers.  Country Jam 2012 was anything but.  Honestly, I have not heard that many fantastic performers in a row before.  Chris Young, Trace Adkins, Luke Bryan, and Jason Aldean were absolutely phenomenal.  Really.  It takes a lot for me to say that.  But never once were there pitchy notes sung.  In fact, all of them hit more notes than I imagined.  The best part of the whole weekend was when Luke Bryan sat down and played and sung Adele’s “Someone Like You”.  If a person could actually melt, I would have been on the floor. 

I did run across more than my fair share of lunatics, but I also met a very nice man.  It’s one of the things I love about Wisconsin.  You can strike up a conversation with just about anyone and you have more than a 60% chance of receiving a friendly reply.  That’s exactly how it was with him.  Maybe we hit it off so well at first because we knew we would probably never see each other again and telling our life stories seemed harmless.  Regardless, we talked about topics that I normally wouldn’t talk about with someone unless I knew them for at least 2 months.  It was great, and at the end of the night we wished each other luck and parted ways. 

Attending my first Country Jam concert was quite the experience.  Many good and interesting encounters.  For those of you who have attended one, you know what I mean.  And for those of you who haven’t, I’d say go.  If just for the experience.  

And to the Mystery Man that I met, I send you my support and hope that your situation plays itself out for the best. 

The Woman Behind the Lemon Drop Cocktail

I hope everyone had a joyous fourth of July.  While the 4^th is far from my favorite holiday, I was definitely entertained. 

Before I jump in, I have to preface.  My Godmother is the most respected and remarkable woman I know, and she amazes me more and more every time I see her.   She’s one of those women little girls cherish and look up to.  When you think back to your childhood, your most vivid memories are of her.  Strong-willed, animated, independent, opinionated (but in the most valued and appreciated way), and anything but boring.  I’ve always thought this of my Godmother. 

It isn’t until your 20’s that you start seeing your family members in a different light.  I knew LeaAnn enjoyed unappealing, involuntary face deforming drinks (she’d let me taste sips of her Manhattans and Old Fashions when I was little), but I didn’t know at that time that she is the most knowledgeable bartender out there!  No, she’s not an actual bartender and can’t throw bottles through the air before pouring two drinks at once, but I’m guessing it’s because she can’t stand the idiots that down liquor for the sole purpose of getting drunk.  That, and bartenders’ sloppiness.  Never would she EVER waste good liqueur.  (In fact, my family gasps when someone spills their drink not because it gets all over the expensive laptop, but because it’s a waste of good alcohol).

Anyway, she’s done her homework.  You can put various alcohols in front of her and she will whip you up the most fantastic concoction you will ever drink. 

Like her Lemon Drop Cocktail. 

I loved it so much that I had to watch/ help her make her second batch. My mom loved it, too.  My little 9 year old cousin got her to jump on the large trampoline with him.  I could never get her to do that!  I was so shocked and astonished, I took the opportunity and joined them.  

I learned a few things about myself that day.  I don’t know all there is to know about each of my family members, and I want to continue talking with and learning about their personalities.  That, and I pee a little when I jump on large tramplines.  The alcohol, my unstoppable laughing.  Probably a combination of the two.  Whatever.  I’m not about to hide it. 

I hope you are given a chance to share a drink and a good convo with your family members.  Seek it out if you have to.  But really, if you get the opportunity, take it. 

LeaAnn’s Lemon Drop Cocktail

-Rim a large glass using a lemon wedge and raw sugar.  Fill with ice.

- Add:

 2 oz. limoncello

1 ½ oz. Absolut Citron Vodka

2 oz. Cointreau

2 oz. Sweet n Sour

-Garnish with a slice of lemon

The Pap

I am a big supporter of checkups, physicals, self-breast exams- the whole gamut.  They’re important.  The MD’s are doing their part to keep us healthy, and our stats help us stay accountable year after year.  But just because I support them, doesn’t mean I have to like them. 

I’ll do shots (I’m talking about the ones in the arm, not the ones at the bar.  Though I’ll do those, too).  Giving blood?  Piece of cake.  But there is one exam that I absolutely despise.  Ladies, you all know the one. 

…the Pap Smear (Dun dun dunn)! 

Seriously, though.  I really hate them.  Not because of the obvious embarrassment that comes with a random doctors face in your crotch, but because IT’S OUTRIGHT PAINFUL!  I don’t care who you talk to, no one can honestly tell me that that exam is nothing to worry about.  The exam where the doctor uses a speculum that looks like it belongs in a garage.  Don’t wave your hand at me and say, “Oh. It’s no big deal”.  I beg to differ.

It’s so bad I think we need to start warning the girls in middle school so they have ample time to prepare for the whole ordeal.  We spend years talking about and preparing them for menstrual periods, and those involve little to no pain.  Pap Smears- that’s what we really should be teaching them about. 

My doctor today was great, really.  She was easy to talk to, respectful, and had quite a few years under her belt .  I thought to myself, “Ok, she’s done this thousands of times.  Maybe she’ll be better than my last doctor”. 

NOPE!

I bled for 3 hours after my appointment.  Pretty sure that’s not supposed to happen.  I’m scarred now.  Literally and figuratively. 

But, like everything else that’s good for you, you bite the bullet and deal.  Nothing is as painful as finding out you have cancer or some other incurable disease once it’s too late. 

So, everyone, after hearing a story that made you want to reconsider Reiki, I encourage you to schedule your overdue appointment today.  They suck, but they’re still good for you J

Office Space

I’m currently working a summer job that reminds me more and more of the movie “Office Space”.  Not in the sense that I’m so mad at my boss I could destroy the entire company, but in the sense that my job is so boring and monotonous that, from 8-4:30, I think about …

1)      Coffee, or any other source of caffeine that might keep me awake

2)      My low vitamin D status

3)      All the things I’d rather be doing with my time 

4)    If the stapler next to me is mine or my coworkers'

It’s been a slow process, but I’m learning the ropes.  In between the 6 digit entries and “ctrl C”ing, I’m gaining insight regarding office dynamics and personality.

For instance, if you don’t get along with someone in an office, you’re screwed.  You’re sharing an enclosed space with people for 8 hours a day.  You better learn to live with and tolerate your coworkers.  Learn to love their annoying laugh, their coffee breath, and their frantic pacing when things go wrong. 

I’ve been working in this particular office for about 4 weeks now, and there are some things that I still don’t understand.  If you want to complain to or tell someone about a problem you’re having, then just flat out tell them.  Talking to your computer using run-on, incoherent sentences and blurting out “Jiminy Cricket!” is not going to do you any good.  It’s clear that you are frustrated, but when you start verbally using Disney characters’ names in place of actually discussing the problem, we get nowhere.  Tell me what happened and what you need me to do!  You don’t hear me shouting “Mufasa!” or “Mrs. Potts!” whenever I get pissed at Excel. 

I guess what I’m getting at is this-  If you work in an office, or ever find yourself stuck in an elevator/enclosed space, be mindful of what you say and do.  Other people take notice, and your actions may cause them to consider relocating, or self-hypnosis.  Or both.   

So Call Me Maybe

I heard THE song today.  Yes, the one with that annoying girl singing about how she “just met you, and this is crazy.  Here’s my number, so call me maybe”.  

I still don’t know how I feel about it. 

Don’t lie, you’ve had the same thought.  It’s catchy!  Well, the first 2 times you hear it, anyway.  It’s got a good beat.  It’s a song that sort of grows on you, as long as you don’t hear it 4 times a day.  The lyrics, however, obviously need some help. 

She clearly just met this guy and wants to see him.  So, Carly Rae, don’t, two stanza’s later, start talking about how

“before he came into your life

You missed him so, so bad”. 

I don’t care how analytical or poetical you are, those lyrics make absolute no sense whatsoever.  You can’t miss someone you’ve NEVER met before. 

I do give her props for one thing, though.  I like that she is bold enough to stand up for herself and ask the guy out.  She makes the first move.  Not unheard of, but definitely not the norm in our society today.  Women need to stop being so scared/ shy/ timid/ (insert your insecurity here).  If you like the guy, ask him out!  Stop contemplating and fretting it.  Just do it, and then move on if it’s not meant to be. No regrets.

I’ll bet you he digs your confidence and daring personality regardless. 

Overwhelmed Much?!

Snapping  pictures in the local park.  Sipping a latte while reading a good book at the coffee shop down the street.   Hitting up area concerts in the evenings. 

This is how I envisioned the start of my summer a few weeks ago.  The entirety of my summer, actually.  I’m starting to realize that the reality of it all is completely the opposite.  Work, attempting to organize my life for my upcoming internship, weddings, and wedding planning (not for me, mind you) all while trying to maintain an appropriate budget is proving to be more trying and stressful than I had imagined.   Sad face. 

Growing up sucks as it is.  But it sucks even more when you become a full-fledged adult and have NO summer to look forward to.  Okay, that sounds a bit morbid, but there are no more free days to go to the pool.  No 5-6 days off, in a row.  Say goodbye to sleeping in or lounging around in shorts and flip flops all day long.  I mean yes, you can do some of these things on the weekends, but it’s still not the same.  Bah.

It’s true that the craziness of everyday life never ends.  I guess that’s why, I’m finding, it’s important to create your own little vacation or “escape”, even if it is the smallest of small things.  Lunch with a good friend.  Movie and popcorn night with the roommates.  Visits to the farmers market.  You get what I’m saying. 

I feel that we all need to find something that we can look forward to.  Maybe it will keep us sane, maybe it will just add to our never-ending “To-Do” lists.  Regardless, I think it’s worth a shot.  What else do we have to lose?