It's Gettin Hot In Here!

I'm in south Florida and, naturally, there's a moderate to severe monsoon in full effect right now. My teeth are throbbing because I was finally granted my wisdom tooth cleansing syringe, so though I can sort of gum down solid food, it gets lodged in my wisdom tooth cavities and causes extreme pain. Need more ice cream (and cowbell). The topic of this evening's blog is the Miami Heat/Orlando Magic game we just attended. It was quite the evening.

We were able to go because my new friend Megan (my parents' trainer) got 4 tickets from one of her clients. The seats were pretty awesome, but so was the company. To my right, old college pal and long-time n'er do well, Jona. To my left, my sister Ashley and Megan.

I can't tell you the last time I attended a Heat game-maybe never?? I know next to nothing about basketball because I, myself, cannot play. I harbor disdain for the things I cannot do, so I refuse to acknowledge their existence. Kidding. Still, I really know nothing. I know different points are awarded for various shots on the court. I know there's a center and a forward and a point guard, and the point guard is usually the little guy/quarterback. I know most basketball players are not regulation height; they are descents of Jack and/or Jack's Beanstalk. And, that's about it. Someone asked me to name the Miami Heat players and my response? "Yao Ming, not Tony Parker, Jamal Walker, Magic Johnson, Larry Bird, and Scotty Pippen." I threw in "Darryl Strawberry" to be cute, but really...I didn't even know Dwayne Wade. For shame, Jaimie. For shame.

(Note to readers: I know now.)

When we found our seats, I immediately began snapping photos (because it's what I do best). We decided on pretzels and beer, so I tasked the group with this while I sat and people watched. Here's what I observed: Miami Heat basketball fans love Affliction t-shirts (shocker), bedazzled designer jeans, bump-its (http://www.bighappiehair.com/), and everything is freezer packed to them. What I mean by this is: it appears as if someone dressed themselves, made an air-tight seal with their fabric, and commissioned a friend to suck any excess particles that existed between themselves and the clothing. Their sartorial splendor is what us Texas folk call "Tyeeeee-t". No bueno. They are all ages, colors, and sizes, and (as I also learned this evening), all levels of class.

Exhibit A) The lady in front of us had a pretty cute toddler, but he became less cute when his bum was bared for all fans to peruse as his mother CHANGED HIS DIAPER in the row in front of us. I don't want to know what she did with the dirty diaper. All I know is that my group emitted a few dry heaves.

Exhibit B) We found an orphaned, dismantled cell phone in the row above us, so I took it upon myself to Humpty Dumpty it and make a plan. I decided I would conduct some research on their call history, see who was most often called and texted, and then text that person informing them that I have a cell phone for ransom. The problem was this: Most of the texts were in Spanish. They don't call Miami "Little Cuba" for nothing. I did my best and opted on "Pilon". I began a new text to Pilon identifying myself and indicating that the owner was MIA. I sent it and waited. Wonder of wonders-Pilon texted back! "Where r u?" Just as I was about to respond, this well-dressed organized crime boss saunters in behind us, settled in his seat, picks up his beer, extends his pinky ring, and takes a sip. We determined this fine Razor had to belong to him. Lo and behold! I probably should have held out for the ransom, but I suppose (in some ways), I got it. Freedom. La liberdad.

By far, my favorite part of the game was the between-play entertainment. There was a martial arts school of children performing their sequences (awww) and a group of adults kickboxing to ACDC's "T.N.T." (awkward). They had a Benihana's flip the shrimp competition where one contestant, dressed in an apron, had to flick stuffed crustaceans into a giant chef's hat (awkward). There were the critically acclaimed Miami Heat dancers (ranked the #1 dance team for 4 consecutive years, mind you-

http://www.nba.com/heat/dance/dancers_aud_010403.html)! They were fun!

Finally, they promotion team selected 3 little boys (age 4, approx) and they were dressed in Miami Heat basketball shorts, but the size would fit a 6'7 man. They looped the drawstring over their heads, fitted them in their GIANT sneakers, and lined them up. Poor kids could barely stand as it was. To boot, the kids had to run about 10 feet, toss on the final touch on the uniform (a regulation sized jersey). Then, they had to race 5 more feet, grab a mini basketball, and dunk on a hoop about as tall as the toddlers. Man, that was awesome. I cheered louder for them than I did for Yao Ming. Or whomever.

After a quick game of Telephone, we decided to leave a quarter early. Jona's never played Telephone (probably because he's never attended a 5th grade girls' sleepover party), so he kept inappropriately using the "Operator" tool.

All in all, our early departure turned out to be a phenomenal decision because we beat the rain by seconds. On our way back to the car, a bum lunged at Ashley and Jona. We were gifted car flags on the way in to the game, but Ashley was unarmed because she bequeathed it to a homeless man. With the leftover flags, we wanted to decorate Jona's car for the ride home. We think our mom is going to have an excellent surprise when she returns from her cruise--she's a Heat fan! We screamed Counting Crows songs in Hurricane Florida on the way home and I used my various pill bottles for maracas. The Ibprofen was most useful; the Synthroid was the least.

Goooo Heat!

Chomper removal

Well, all of the anticipation and anxiety has run it's course. I now have an informed understanding of surgical procedures and what should have been generating the MOST fear: RECOVERY. I had all four wisdom teeth removed (three were impacted) on Friday, 12/11 at 10 am. I was incredibly nervous as I was traveling to the dentist's office, but it helped that the surgery was at my regular dentist's office and there seemed to be nothing special about the experience as I entered the office. When they took me back to the chair, it all looked fairly benign. There were no giant knives or needles that I observed, which was a great sign. When I was seated in the surgical chair, my oral surgeon began to ask me questions about my academic program. I was shaking the entire time and probably not offering the most articulate rationale for my research. This would be good practice for dissertation defense.

As they were placing the IV in my arm, the doctor commented on the level of oxygenation in my blood. He said it was impressive and I was hoping that my oxygenation might some how give me an edge in the surgery and/or recovery. Doubtful, but maybe... I told him that I was, in fact, terrified and he replied, "Why, you have the easy part? I have the hard part." Okay, that didn't help any!!

My biggest fear during surgery was that I would be paralyzed from the anesthesia, but I could feel every stick, drill, tractor...whatever they were doing to my poor teeth. I did feel the incredibly painful Novicane shots (ALL FOUR) and I did hear the doctors speaking throughout the surgery. I don't remember the actual surgery or waking up, though I did remember asking to see my teeth. He said they were already in their final resting place (the biohazard bin), and after doing some of my own research, I would imagine they are in tiny little fragmented pieces.

May I take this opportunity to address my former teeth? Dear Teeth, I HATE YOU. I hate you for being in my mouth and causing me to miss out on eating for days. Thanks for that. I hate you even more for allowing the duration of this entry to take place.

So, my mom and friend Nancy came with me so they could drive me back from the surgery and look after me in the immediate hours after the removal. I can't really remember much about those hours, but I was feeling mostly okay. I slept a little, walked around aimlessly a little. My friend Katie came over and joined us, and this is when the fun began. Katie brought over a bunch of food-like items and assorted goodies to keep me occupied. I was only prescribed one Vicodin every 4 hours and it turned out that was one Vicodin too few. I wasn't able to form the blood clots, so I kept having to replace the gauze and was essentially producing mouthfuls of bloody drool every 10 minutes. It was delicious and I bet I never looked better. By not forming those clots, I left my nerve endings fully exposed in their vacant little oral beds and I could feel every little sip of water and vanilla frosty. The pain caused me to shake uncontrollably and my teeth to chatter. It was awesome. Katie called my surgeon and the pharmacist, who both agreed to let me up my dosage by another pill. I also replaced the gauze with moisturized tea bags. This contained me for a few hours. I still couldn't talk, but I was able to write everything on a notepad. This provided my guests with lots of entertainment because I sometimes deferred to charades to communicate. At one point, my friend and I were calling someone a name that rhymes with "Crass-mole". Jaimie Krause, class all the way.

The evening before surgery, my friend Danielle delivered a bunch of non-solid food items so I wouldn't starve on my new mush diet. The evening after the surgery, Bobby came over and we watched episodes of the Office because I couldn't sleep. By Friday night and into Saturday morning, I was feeling better again. So much so that I decided to go shopping with my mom on Saturday and invite our several awesome friends who brought me even more great stuff (Phil, John, and Susan-thank youuu!). So many nurses!! We attended a Chanukah party on Saturday night, and I was doing okay for about 15 minutes there. I tried to gum down some matzo ball soup and I accidentally relied on my back teeth at one point. Big mistake. I had to excuse myself from the party (which was right down the street) to pop a few more pain pills. Perhaps I should have attempted some other food, since I had very little in my stomach at this point. At about 11:30 pm, I began to feel a little queasy. By 12:00 am, it was full-blown nausea. I will save you the details, but let's just say the "experience" lasted until 5:00 am. Bobby tried to call my doctor several times from the hours of 3:00-5:00 am to no avail. Finally, he had to take a trip to Walgreens to get me some anti-nausea medication. After he returned and I downed the meds, I rushed to the restroom 3 minutes later. I was a mess and there was nothing that could help me.

Today (Sunday), has been a little better. My friend Russ dropped off some soup, which has helped a bit. I am in pain, but I am forcing myself to also eat ice cream and mashed potatoes. I discovered two incisions in each of my cheeks, which seem to be complicating my recovery. I don't understand why they are there and they seem to be aching more than my actual empty sockets. I have Bobby on dry socket duty. He is armed with flashlights and has to inspect the area every few hours. I am sure it's a lot of fun for him (and also smells like roses), but he's taken it like a trooper.

Thank you to all of my nurses who have supported my recovery (in order of arrival): Mom, Danielle, Nancy, Katie, Meaghan, Bobby, John, Susan, Phil, and Russ. Although I am mostly still uncomfortable, I would not be where I am in this process without you. :)

Need More Christmas?

It is a well-known fact that I am not good at organized religion. I would never begrudge someone for practicing a religion or a personal form of spirituality (provided no one is being hurt in the process). Far be it from me to judge, mandate, or damn anyone based on their belief system. In fact, one of my favorite quotes is from Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi, a 13th century Sufi poet and philosopher--you might know him as simply "Rumi". In his poem Spring Giddiness, he wrote: "There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground." I love this, but I found some folks who may not.

On the retail website Stand For Christmas (http://www.standforchristmas.com/), shoppers have the opportunity to rate popular stores like Bed, Bath, & Beyond, Nordstrom, and the GAP on customer service and Christmas spirit. Retailers receive ratings such as "Christmas-friendly, Christmas-negligent, and Christmas-offensive". As you might imagine, Christmas spirit is not simply defined by volume of snowflakes present in displays, the quality of the life-sized galloping Ruldoph, or the size of those chestnuts roasting on an open fire. No, my friends...take a gander at a few of the *warnings* shoppers issue fellow Spirit Seekers:

Comment Date: Dec 1 2009 11:41 AM
Rating: Christmas-Offensive
Comment: First thing I notice [at the GAP] is that they are only playing non-Christian Christmas songs (Jingle Bells, etc.). Unacceptable. I ask a clerk, "What is the reason for the season?" and I get back "What?". I buy a shirt and when they ask me what kind of wrapping paper, I reply that I want nativity paper or something showing the baby Jesus. They say they only have snowflakes and snowmen and green/red paper. What does green and red have to do with JESUS?

Comment Date: Nov 28 2009 9:49 AM
Rating: Christmas-Negligent
Comment: I actually walked into the store, [Home Depot]. Saw "holiday" poinsettas, "holiday" trees. Spoke directly to manager who advised, it's store policy from corporate. I politely told him I'd be going to Lowes.

Comment Date: Nov 29 2009 5:36 PM
Rating: Christmas-Offensive
Comment: Went to [the Barnes and Noble] Web Site and not one featured book was about Christmas. Even the Children"s book feature was Green Eggs and Ham not the Grinch Who Stole Christmas.

Here's the irony, I love Christmas! I love the smells, the songs, the cheer, the decorations, the food...bring it! If someone said Merry Christmas to me, I would absolutely wish them a Merry Christmas back. To me, this demonstrates part of my issue with what Christmas has become. Shoppers, if you want to celebrate Jesus, go to an institution designated to do so. Have a Christmas party! Decorate your lawn with a nativity scene. Christmas isn't really about presents, is it? I thought, according to Christianity, Christmas is actually the celebration of the birth of Jesus. Why then would the GAP, a public entity which serves all kinds of people, dress a mannequin as Jesus Christ? Why should Bed, Bath, & Beyond choose to house a Santa riding their day bed and his reindeer pulling it down the aisle? Why should any of the stores care if the some of us in this world honor this holiday? To me, that seems really inappropriate. I don't really know what you're looking for these stores to do for you, dear shoppers. Would you like to be doused with red and green glitter as you enter, with little Happy Birthday Jesus confetti pieces interspersed? I mean no disrespect to anyone, as I understand (especially after visiting Spain this summer) the magnitude with which Jesus is revered on this planet. All I'm asking is that those needing a little Christmas respect those of us who need a little Kwnazaa or a little Hanukkah or a little Bodhi Day or a little Dong zhi or a little Diwali-the list goes on...

Look at all of these alternatives to Christmas that other people observe. Amazing, isn't it? There's a whole world out there and I think it's a little self-righteous that only one belief should be displayed at Macy's.

My favorite HOLIDAY ad:

Thanksgiving Lessons Learned

So it's no secret that I don't really "cook", but when I found myself in Austin to celebrate this holiday, I knew I had to take action. I decided to host the dinner and worry about the cooking part later. In earnest, I was hoping someone else would make the turkey, and I could fumble with some side dishes. This IS Austin, after all. We could have had turkey and Lucky Charms, Special K, and Frosted Flakes and no one would be the wiser. Here is my Thanksgiving tale.

It all started on the Monday evening before Thanksgiving. I started to panic because I had zero ingredients and 7 people coming. I thought to myself, "I better run to the store before all of the turkeys are gone!!" So...I did! While at the store, I weighed my turkey options: 1) this bird is already cooked, but I don't know of I should get it because it's rubbed with some cajun spices and that could be weird with sweet potatoes; 2) this other bird is very small and it's plastic wrapping makes it nearly indistinguishable as a bird carcass--What?!?! I am just being honest!! These are MY thoughts!; 3) this other label says the turkey is young (I immediately grieve his abbreviated life), but it does weigh a lot and someone may have told me to get 2 lbs of turkey for every guest, so it might be a winner. The con is that I have to pick it up and it's transparent wrapping allows me to see exactly what it is! Gross! I tried to stand in front of the turkey freezer looking helpless for a while so that someone would make the choice for me, but the grocery store had another plan in mind for my visit. It gave me an idea!

I suddenly had an idea-I will steal a plastic bag from the check-out line and use that to transport this thing. No big d...wait! 15.75 pounds is heavy, especially when you have elongated your arms so as to accommodate the turkey transfer, that they are barely in their sockets anymore. My only goal was that the bird doesn't really touch me. "Easy, Jaimie. That's a good girl...just lift him up and...ohhh nooo. FUMBLE! He TOUCHED MY STOMACH." Okay, so it was only the frost from the freezer, but that was enough. I sprinted, with cart, out of the aisle and never looked back. I gained composure somewhere in aisle 7, canned goods. Whew. That was a close one. I took great pleasure looking out into the sea of tin, and selecting the cans that would morph into my green bean casserole, sweet potato casserole, and cranberry sauce. That was cake!! Onward!

So, it's the night before the big day and Bobby comes over after work. We sit and watch the food network show Man VS. Food for a while, cracking jokes about our upcoming meal. We still don't have several ingredients and time is ticking, so I coax Bobby off the couch and we make a 11 pm food run. We decided to use Alton Brown's recipe: http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/alton-brown/good-eats-roast-turkey-recipe/index.html, but it called for several weird additions (Allspice berries?), so we were led on a wild turkey chase all over Walmart trying to find out what he really means by sage leaves. "Oh, are you referring to these BAY leaves? I thought so." After we completely redefined said recipe, we were ready to head home and start a'cookin. Or, Bobby was ready to. I was ready to sort of watch, but not for the gross parts.

Alton told us to create a brine, so I scampered around the house to find said items. A 5 gallon bucket? Oh, you mean this orange paint canister from Home Depot?? Bobby suffered a minor tennis court rib injury last weekend (he was trying to escape me and did a face/torso plant into the court, as we all know--You can run from Jaimie Krause, but you cannot hide). In any event, he couldn't really lift heavy things, so I had to help. Yuck. We purchased hemp in lieu of twine for the legs, so our bird was very Rastafari. Like this, but a turkey instead.

The turkey was finally settled into his cool briny bath on my porch. Because it was 35 degrees outside, I used my porch for a makeshift fridge. Thanks, Mother Nature. I was slightly worried that an animal would try to claw it's way into the tin-foiled cover that was the brine sealant. I think I checked it several times in my sleep. Good night, world. It's 2 am.

Now, it's the morning of Thanksgiving and I force myself out of my cozy bed at 11 am. I start to get nervous because I have heard that people cook turkeys for hours and hours, and ours is still hanging out on my porch in a bath of allspice berries. Bobby assures me that Alton assured him we only needed 2.5 hours to cook it. Still, I secretly don't believe him and try to start the feast on my own. I take out many of the ingredients I purchased and make piles. I finally figure out what else to do...

I put on my apron...

I re-arrange the piles...

I set the table. The End. Not really, but that is almost my finale!

Danielle comes over (thank God for her) and we really get started! Or, they do. I "supervise".

As I said on Facebook, you can't see me, but I am singing to Bobby in the background (to the tune of Meatloaf's ballad), "I will do anything for love, but I won't do that. Oh no, no, I won't touch dead animals and stuff them with veggies. I won't rub their raw skin with spices or tie their legs together. I won't even send them off to their final cooking place. And I won't even collect it's temperature. Oh no, no I won't do that..."

Lesson one: One thing we learned from this experience is the right way to cook a turkey. We sort of cooked it upside down. Oops.

Lesson two: Also, it's a good idea not to carve a turkey with a butter knife, because no matter how delicious it tastes, it still looks like this:

And takes 3 boys and 4 dogs to carve it

But when all is said and done

...a feast emerges!!

Lesson three: Do not schedule your Thanksgiving

meal at the exact same time at the UT football

game because everyone will secretly want to watch

the game instead

Lesson four: DO invite over your most kitchen-savvy friend

and thank her profusely for her ability to cook.

Lesson five: DO take a Thanksgiving prom photo to remember it always

Lesson six: DO take a Thanksgiving nap

Lesson seven: DO have awesome friends!

Flagrant Fouls!

As some of you know, I played soccer at the college level. We began at the NAIA division and improved to DII when I graduated, so it was nothing like the Division I soccer I've seen since my move to Texas. I recently attended a UT-Austin Lady Longhorn match again Texas Tech because one of my students is the starting goalkeeper (as a freshman, I might add)!! Still, I've never seen anything THIS bad in all of my years of playing soccer. Okay, maybe I've seen a little; girls are pret-ty aggressive in the athletic arena. A few tales are in order.

During a U-17 club match, I did see a full-blown battle between two teams. One of the girls on my team started it, if I recall correctly. The last image burned into my young, impressionable mind is that inciting player, screaming, while being pulled to the ground by her long wavy brown ponytail. I knew I kept my hair short for a reason!

One time, a girl on the opposing team ripped my one leg of my shorts in half. Another time, I broke a girl's nose with my elbow. I still have a faint scar where her tooth sunk into my arm and snaked down it, creating a jagged cut, with her colossal crash to the ground. I did feel pretty bad for that because I grew up playing with this girl and it was purely an accident. Mostly.

Take a peek at these cheap moves:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k52QWFeP7

OY

Here's the ESPN report in response to the reprimand: http://sports.espn.go.com/ncaa/news/story?id=4629837

Here's an article from Psychology Today on moral character as it is depicted in this context: http://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/moral-landscapes/200911/is-in-no-way-indicative-my-character-soccer-player-says-after-tripping-

Lambert, you are WAY out of line, my friend. Compared to you, I think I now feel better about all of the cheap tackles I've made in my career. I think my name just got crossed off a list somewhere. Hello, heaven.

I'm all grown up!

Presenting the LASSI Instrument with Dr. Taylor Acee

This week I attended my very first academic conference: the 2009 College Learning and Reading Association (CRLA) annual conference in Richmond, VA. This week I presented my very first collaborative graduate student paper and research at a conference; I did this once in undergrad, but it was much less relevant to my current professional interests. This week I matured as a contributor in the field of Educational Psychology; I am officially en route to my goal of becoming an Educational Psychologist. Arguably, I am already that person because I conduct research and analyses, AND write papers (though none of these are on my own accord-yet), but this is a milestone. You see, I am no longer simply a person in serious debt; no, friends....this week, I am a Presenter in serious debt! The difference is that before I was a member of the CCLR (Community College Longitudinal Retention Study) research group and now my name is associated with my faculty mentor and her work.

I always suspected that Dr. Claire Ellen Weinstein was a pretty big deal in my field, and I now have confirmation. I met Claire Ellen's good friend Russ Hodges (another Ed Psych force with which to be reckoned) at a dinner party a month ago, and formed our own friendship. Though Claire Ellen couldn't attend the conference, Russ generously threw me in front of various organizational presidents and heavy hitters in the field over the 4 action-packed days. I met so many wonderful people during this journey, and once they learned about my UT-Austin affiliation, they would grin and say, "Oh, you're one of Claire Ellen's, aren't you?" I could tell that the various insights I offered during other presentations and lectures suddenly became more interesting and better informed; I developed a certain "street cred" (if you will) through my associations with Russ and Claire Ellen.

I attended various sessions and learned a few things, but the best experience I had (in addition to presenting our own research) was the "Lunch with a Mentor" function. Claire Ellen suggested that I sign up for this and I read through the various mentors' bios two months ago to determine which individual might be the best choice in terms of my interests. During the very first day of this conference, I was introduced to an older woman named Dr. Rita Smilkstein and she was wearing a feather boa. Russ indicated that she was one of three "Dendrite Divas" who focus on this concept of Brain-based Learning. These three ladies are well-established contributors to the field and present in conferences all over the world. After I met her, I overheard multiple conversations marveling about Dr. Smilkstein's ideas. She researches and have developed interventions for empowering developmental education students (and other students facing academic challenges). She accomplishes this through providing explanations about the brain anatomy's evolution when learning occurs.

Here it is, in a nutshell: You generate dendrite growth through active encoding of information, so when you use learning strategies to study, you are encouraging more connections in your brain! Her research lends itself really well to test anxiety, too, and I can't wait to share it with my own students. When cortisol floods your brain, you experience the "Fight or Flight" mechanism and you enter survival mode. You are no longer able to utilize your brain to reason through complex information. In essence, you allow this trigger to sabotage your abilities. The trick is that, if you have studied (and only truly effectively studied, prepared, rehearsed, etc), you will be able to recall that information. You have grown those dendrites and they don't disappear! If you are able to isolate your anxiety and practice relaxation exercises, your brain will fill with seratonin and other helpful chemicals, which will trigger confidence and positive feelings about yourself. We already know most of this, but I don't think students are aware of the actual change that occurs in their brains when they learn. If they knew, with complete confidence, that information was absolutely stored somewhere securely, it might be easier to combat the overwhelming anxiety that so many individuals experience when assessed. I digress...

So, wouldn't you know that I chose Dr. Smilkstein as my Mentor during the "Lunch with a Mentor" activity? Ah, I love when the stars align! I had the opportunity to sit down with her, practically one-on-one and discuss her ideas and application of her ideas to MY ideas. It was thrilling and I couldn't wipe this ridiculously wide smile off my face if someone paid me to do it throughout the entire luncheon! Emotions affect learning, and the emotional associations we make with learning experiences effect our performance! We glean emotional connections through peer interaction. Then, infusing a college classroom with a sense of community (assuming that experience is positive) will have a strong impact on your feelings about learning and about your capabilities as a learner. I can't believe that I am almost excited to begin my dissertation.

Check Dr. Smilkstein out here

So, it's Saturday morning and I have been up since 6:30 am. I went to bed at 2:00 am last night/this morning, and this was an earlier night for me, if you can believe it. Due to Claire Ellen's unanticipated conference absence, we had to present everything ourselves. We spent hours preparing the handout and presentation during the three conference evenings. Good grief! Thankfully, our own presentation went very well and we received all "Excellent" marks! Attendees left comments such as "Great presentation style" and "Very personable and confident", so I am reeling with residual adrenaline and excitement. I am sitting in the airport, still buzzing from the foreign caffeine in my body in the form of a Starbucks Vanilla Latte that I was forced to consume this morning so I would appear alert and chipper. I kind of wish I could make it stop because, though I am traveling in a suit, I just want to curl up on my jacket, kick off my heels, and take a big girl nap!

I love live music because I can't sing

U2 concert, Chicago 2009 with my brother
and my sister

This blog serves duel purposes; it’s both an exercise to pass the one hour until I depart for Austin from Chicago and it helps me remember where I’ve been, musically.

Live music is becoming increasingly more interesting and eventful to experience as I get older. My first concert was The Rolling Stones in Miami and I certainly was not familiar with any of their music. I went with one of my cool girlfriends and her family. We took her father’s Porche and had a feeling (even at an age where introspection and self-awareness is limited, at best) that I better enjoy this, because it might be the last time I would ride in a Porche and see the Stones. So far, I’m right on both accounts!

I did, however, inhale a brand new odor during that show, as security was clearly a little more lax during the early 90’s. I remember thinking it resembled burnt evergreens mixed with something else I couldn’t put my finger on. So, at the tender age of 11, I began feeling slightly dizzy and kind of like I was floating. I turned around to witness the leather-clad, silver spiked jewelry donning middle-aged women exhaling a rather large puff of smoke and giggling to each other. “Wow” I thought to myself, “getting older is weird.” Turns out, that profound thought would provide the backdrop against which my ever-growing understanding of the world around me and the integration of this knowledge defined by my subsequent maturity (or lack thereof) would be tested. It also turns out that I still incorporate known run-on sentences in my writing. My 7^th grade language arts teacher would kill me for such a transgression. I digress…

My second concert, Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, yielded slightly more awareness of the live music scene and I instantly liked his music. The Stones, to me, felt like an acquired taste but Petty’s tunes appealed to the masses.

I would go on to see... Green Day, Rage Against the Machine Rancid, Third Eye Blind, Coldplay, Beastie Boys, Barenaked Ladies, Jack Johnson, Iron & Wine, Arctic Monkeys, G Love and Special Sauce, Blues Traveler, Devotchka, Indigo Girls, The Airborne Toxic Event, the Black Crowes, Pearl Jam, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Keane, Augustana, Gavin DeGraw, Franz Ferdinand, Snow Patrol, Silversun Pickups, Matisyahu, Cold War Kids, Nick Drake, Beck, Modest Mouse, The Magic Numbers, The Scotland Yardsale (!), Foo Fighters, The Bravery, Dixie Chicks, Pete Yorn, Death Cab for Cutie, Damien Rice, The Raconteurs, Snoop Dogg, Tonic, Spoon, Vampire Weekend, Usher, Bob Dylan, Gomez, Goo Goo Dolls, Guster, Dave Matthews, Regina Spektor, Thievery Corporation, The Shins, Ghostland Observatory, Elton John, Phoenix, Dashboard Confessional, The Swell Season, Matchbox 20, Ben Harper, The Killers, The Wallflowers, Weezer, Our Lady Peace, John Mayer (ew), Counting Crows (!!) and now U2 (!!!)! I think I have seen Aerosmith but I am not certain; same goes for Okerville River. I have also seen a bunch of country bands that I have blocked out of my memory for various reasons. J I know I am leaving out so many bands and this list might grow as I recall more stories.

Bands and musicians I want to see before I die (or they die): Paul Simon, Madonna, Britney Spears, Radiohead or Thom Yorke solo, Tracy Chapman, Beyonce, The Cars, 311, David Gray (accomplished 3/2010), The Cure, Eric Clapton, James Taylor

Now that I’ve met bassist Kevin Baldes (on the left), I want to see his band, Lit. He was so sweet and down to earth. I realize they were not as huge as they could have been or likely wanted to be, but they were fairly well known once upon a time and it looks like they’re getting back together! I may have my chance!!

Musicians I wish I could have seen: Michael Jackson, the Beatles, Elvis Presley, Frank Sinatra, Miles Davis, Bob Marley, Sublime, Johnny Cash, Nirvana

Bands I will see one million times: Counting Crows, U2, Coldplay

Number of times a random dude has exposed himself during a performance: 2

Number of times I have finagled my way to a front row location: 2 (U2 and Third Eye Blind)

Spotted! The baby backpack wearing, dog walking and pooping in my front lawn neighbor!

Yes, friends, this is the official Google Maps image of my home. I suspected this photograph was captured somewhere after 2005 and before 2009 because my sister's car is parked in the driveway. I had forgotten the hilarity of this picture, as my prospective visitors are always directed to my house this way: "You know, it's the brick one, with the dog poop in the lawn."

Last week I went running during one weekday afternoon and almost fell on the concrete sidewalk with laughter. I saw this very man, with this very knapsack (perhaps with a NEW baby), walking this very dog, in these very shorts. I wanted to tell him that he both ruined and enriched my Google Maps image. I wanted to tell him that he was busted, for the world to see! Do you see a small poop baggie in this hand because I sure don't! I could report this man to our Home Owner's Association because he probably set the precedent for discreetly ignoring our dogs' collective excrement on the green belt behind our houses and around the neighborhood.

But, mainly, I wanted to invite Google Maps back our to my neighborhood. Just give me a few hours notice. There are a few prunes I wish to feed my dog first.

She's better!!!

I am so incredibly thrilled to report that Sky seems one million times better! She is keeping down all of her food, her permanent head tilt has down-shifted to a minor 15 degree slant, and she kicked my butt for 75% of our run around the trails behind my house! Yay for healthy dogs! Now, if we could only get Sky's cousins, Ashes and Jazzy, to align with this new health kick, all pups (and owners) will be delighted!

Skylar is also happy to report that, after 2 years, she finally got a new collar. She is quite the prepster with this pink and green argyle piece, and she now trots in style, sans felt roses! Those were so 2007.

Strange Tunes

So, I have been encountering some fairly strange tunage lately. Yes, tunage. If you are unfamiliar with this slang, check out:

http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=tunage

I came across each of the first two entries on our NPR host station, KUT 90.5. The popular morning hour radio show Eklektikos, hosted by John Aielli, generated this first ballad. You may learn more about this program at: http://kut.org/music/show/12. Read the lyrics and scroll down for my commentary.

An Okie from Mukogee by Merle Haggard

We don't smoke marijuana in Muskogee;
We don't take our trips on LSD.

We don't burn our draft cards down on Main Street;
We like livin' right, and bein' free.

I'm proud to be an Okie from Muskogee,
A place where even squares can have a ball
We still wave Old Glory down at the courthouse,
And white lightnin's still the biggest thrill of all
We don't make a party out of lovin';
We like holdin' hands and pitchin' woo;
We don't let our hair grow long and shaggy,
Like the hippies out in San Francisco do.

And I'm proud to be an Okie from Muskogee,
A place where even squares can have a ball.
We still wave Old Glory down at the courthouse,
And white lightnin's still the biggest thrill of all.
Leather boots are still in style for manly footwear;
Beads and Roman sandals won't be seen.
Football's still the roughest thing on campus,
And the kids here still respect the college dean.

We still wave Old Glory down at the courthouse,
In Muskogee, Oklahoma, USA.

Honestly, what the shit is this? I realize Merle Haggard is a well-respected 1960's country/folk artist who claims this song is the product of a joke, but then how in God's name (and a better question-WHY??) did it surface? I think this song identifies the part of me that discards my new southwestern roots. Onward!

The next ditty is Charlie Parker's Romance Without Finance from his album Bird on the Side. I heard this on Larry Monroe's program Blue Monday: http://kut.org/music/show/11.

Blue, indeed! Though I cannot locate the lyrics at this time, I will offer you my interpretation of this song. In my mind, it could go one of two ways: first, romance without finance is ill-advised because women don't want a man without an appropriate credit score; or, second, if one is not willing to invest themselves *emotionally* in a romantic endeavor, the effort is a waste of time. I choose to subscribe to the second interpretation, though based on the complete set of lyrics, it appears Mr. Parker is speaking to the former interpretation.

As a south Florida native, it is my opinion that many folks from my hometown would agree with this sentiment. Clearly, this is a global statement generalizing a collective, unpolled opinion, but it's one I have observed time and time again. Of course, this is not isolated to south Florida, as I have witnessed this in various parts of the country. I think the state of the economy is exacerbating this romanticized notion of securing a fiscally-sound relationship. I recall a statement made at a family function where one young woman exclaimed that she would only date doctors. I have seen individuals scan rooms with dollar signs on their mind. Look, I will be the first to say that dating a homeless person will introduce its own set of issues and I do not recommend it to my dear readers. However, if two individuals present themselves and one offers summers in Tuscany, while the other offers better companionship (year round), choose wisely. I can say from personal experience that, regardless of geographic location, if you aren't spending time with someone who makes you happy, you could be orbiting into space with your prince and it won't be as exciting as spending some local time with your better-suited pauper. Now, I will step down from my soap box to present my third and final song.

Don't Trust Me by 3OH!3 exceeds strange. In fact, though catchy, the lyrics are pretty disgusting.

She wants to touch me woah

She wants to love me woah
She’ll never leave me woah, woah oh oh
Don’t trust a ho
Never trust a ho
Won’t trust a ho, won’t trust me!

Shush girl
Shut your lips
Do the Helen Keller and talk with your hips
I said shush girl
Shut your lips
Do the Helen Keller and talk with your hips

Yes, this is simply an excerpt from this more recent pop strain, but honestly?? I think the group has violated the cardinal code of appropriateness. Where will we draw the line? These two fools just look like emotionless idiots.

Okay, I am done with my rant now. Thanks for listening. Jaimie, out!

*And yes, if you were wondering, I am totally avoiding my research work right now. This blog is the product of my procrastination. This should probably be the subtitle of it's title.