School Performances and Festival Goodness

In keeping with my overwhelming urge to see live musical performances, I had the pleasure of attending two such music filled events last week. The first one was my 7 year old daughter's elementary school Earth Day Musical Extravaganza. We were of course running around trying to get ready, and unfortunately (or maybe fortunately on second thought) my daughter's pre-teen girly girl gene has not fully kicked in yet. She is rather unpredictable because sometimes she wants curls in her hair and she must wear that certain pair of jeans, but other times she seemingly doesn't care much about her appearance. For instance brushing her teeth has become a exercise in trickery. I must now check the toothbrush for wetness and the sink for blobs of toothpaste in order to fully ensure that her teeth have been properly brushed.

But anyway, when inspecting her face for the impending musical performance that would require my daughter to stand on a stage with parents and other miscellaneous onlookers judging each parent based on their child's hygeine and talent, I felt it important that the gunk and dirt be removed from her face. She wanted to know why I was always so concerned with that. Trust me, I told myself that I never wanted to be the mom that licked her finger to clean the gunk off her kid's face and though I have broken some unspoken "I would never do that as a parent" promises I made to myself, this is one I still hold strong on. I told her, rather impatiently, that I didn't want her to look like dirty white trash. To which she responded(and which incidentally caused me to chill out), that it would be appropriate because their performance was about trash- after all. You see in celebration of Earth Day, the music teacher-who by the way would have fit in nicely with any drum circle at a Grateful Dead concert-organized the musical entertainment around Earth Day.

So the kindergarteners sang "The Chi-Chi Bird", a song from Jamaica. The third graders sang a song from Liberia. And you know the expression "He marches to the beat of a different drummer"? Well, that saying was particulary appropriate for the boy in the green shirt who went left when everyone else went right and went right when everyone else went left during the dance number. Unless of course he was dead on and all the other kids were the ones that were off. At least that's what his mother was probably thinking. The fifth graders played songs on the recorder and one of their parents must have been seated behind me. I kept hearing utterances of sheer delight and pleasure during When the Saints Coming Marching Home and Amazing Grace. And honestly, the kids weren't that bad, but didn't rise to the occassion of a vocal orgasm that was occurring behind me. My daughter's class played rhythms with instruments they had made out of trash. So there were plastic drain pipes that were scraped with sticks. Big water bottles and pots and pans served as drums. My daughter played the coffee can shaker and let me tell you she can shake that thing better than any shaker I've ever seen, so I guess I understood the woman behind me who was beside herself with the oohing and aahing during the recorder performance. The look of concentration, determination and trepidation on my daughter's face was priceless, and I even got a little teary eyed-but I'll blame it on hormones not on unexplainable motherly pride.

To shift gears somewhat, I also attended the Grassroots Festival at Shakori Hills this past Friday. Despite the threat of rain, the weather cooperated and my husband and I escaped parenthood temporarily to enjoy all the festival goodness. We were going mainly to see Jim Lauderdale perform who played his set with Donna the Buffalo as his backing band. Let me tell you I got to shake my mojo loose during that set. Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! It was awesome, but I must admit that my festival preparation was rather amiss. I forgot lawn chairs, bug spray, and the all important beverage cup to hide the al-kee-hol. Being a family event there was to be no public display of alchoholic beverages. We somehow managed to break that rule without getting reprimanded or accosted, so all in all it was a success. We also saw a set by Sonny Landreth who is from Louisana and is kick ass guitarist-not mutually exclusive qualities mind you. Well, maybe you can be a kick ass guitarist and not be from Louisiana, but if you're from Louisiana you must kick ass on the guitar. It's some kind of residency requirement or maybe something in the (black) water, I don't know. I can't fully explain all phenomenon. Then we caught Oteil and the Peacemakers which was a lot like Aquarium Rescue Unit (ARU) minus Col. Bruce and Apt Q258, being that Oteil played bass for ARU. Funky, bluesy rock and roll with the same singer ARU used after the Colonel left the band. Perfect rolling green hills, kind people, and a perfect night. It's times like these that I'm reminded why life is worth living. It's not about the bull shit, it really is all about the good times. May there be many more festies to enjoy!

So, even though my musical exposure this past week may have initially seemed to be a study in contrasts let it be known that they be more similar that you might think. Afterall, most of the musicians I appreciate march to their own beat. And future festival musicians could very well have been on that elementary school stage. And with the gusto and pride that some of those kids exuded, it wouldn't surprise me to see that kid in the green shirt jamming at some festival one day. I'm sure his mother will still be beaming with pride.

Games People Play

I have always been a game player. I think it must have started with my very first board game-Candyland which mushroomed into a collection of assorted board games: Sorry, Trouble, Chutes & Ladders, Payday, Monopoly, The Game of Life (which by the way turned out to be a big boring disappointment after the novelty of the wheel of fortune spinner, the hills and shrubs and little pink and blue cars with little stick pegs that were supposed to represent people wore off),Go to the Head of the Class, Scrabble, and my all time favorite Clue are some of the earliest board games I remember having or playing. I was a checkers freak for a while and got real competitve with the nerdy kid across the street. I love sporting games. I love brain games. I love Video games-but mostly the classics like Pac-Man, Centipede and Frogger. I even love drinking games-I know it's a stretch, can you believe it?

If I analyze why I love playing games the best I can come up with is because they're fun. Others may answer that same question in other ways, like for instance they play games because of the challenge of competition and to kick the asses of all of their unworthy opponents. The truth is that I'm really not that competitive of a person. Yes, I'm a first born sibling, so I do have overachiever tendencies when I'm not being too lazy, which is an interesting paradox-I know. But honestly when playing games I sometimes cheat, but not the way you might think. Like for instance, I won't play a particular card in Uno because I don't want to stick it to my opponent. And those of you who are parents probably engage in this practice occasionally so your children will get a taste of winning, unless of course you're a hard ass parent who believes that the best way to teach your kids in the school of hard knocks is to knock them down because they have to learn eventually how tough and unfair life really is.

This all makes me wonder why some people are so downright competitive and others not so much. I really think that I must attract competitive people. In elementary school I recall the 1980 presidential election and sparring with my best friend over who would win. My candidate won, but we all really lost in that election when looking back in hindsight. What can I say, I hadn't taken the "What is your political party affiliation quiz?" yet which would finally solidify my liberal leanings in 11th grade. I dated a boy in high school who hated playing computer Jeopardy! with me because he could never answer the questions as rapidly as I could. So I found myself dumbing it down a peg and letting him ring in every once in awhile. Afterall, it's just a game and he deserves to feel a little superior because he answered " Who is Samuel Taylor Coleridge?" when asked the author of the Rime of the Ancient Mariner-even though you only know that answer to that question because of Iron Maiden and not because of a true appreciation for Romantic British Literature. And my husband when we were first dating used to have temper tantrums when we played tennis. With all due respect, he has evolved from that immature behavior and now only throws the tennis racket across court instead of directly at me when he loses.

I really don't understand why this is. I mean I don't rub it in when I'm winning. I don't taunt and brag. In fact I try really hard to be a good sport and gracious winner, and loser for that matter. Life is too short to get upset by things like that. And what's the purpose of a game but to entertain and have fun with family and friends after all? When things get too wicked and competitive then the fun is drained out of the experience and it's not as enjoyable. Don't get me wrong a little gentle teasing and taunting is tolerable but that should not overshadow the fun of game playing.

So, I will keep playing my games and enjoying them while I do it. I'm just really glad I'm not playing the Dating Game these days.

To quote a wise and insightful man, Homer Simpson: "U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A! IN YOUR FACE FLANDERS!"

Time for me to rant

Ugh! Have you ever had one of those days where you wish you could crawl under the covers and shut out the world? I'm sure you have. We all have. And because the source of my annoyance is none other than my job where I spend 8 hours of my 16 waking hours a day it's really hard to escape from it. My bad mood can also be blamed on Uncle Sam and his greedy son otherwise know as the IRS. Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining about having to pay my fair share of taxes. It's just that I expected a much better outcome because everyone told me once you buy a house the tax breaks are beneficial. But what they fail to mention is that only happens when your itemized deductions exceed your standard deduction. And since we don't fall into that category we're stuck with a wopping income tax bill. Also because my husband's employer took no federal tax out we underpaid. So you can understand how that started the week off just lovely.

Another reason I may be so perturbed is that I now have to drive in my car in silence. Yep, my stereo system no longer wants to turn on. It was working just fine this morning as I was heading into work listening to the Larry Keel Experience throw down some Clinch Mountain music. I had to stop for gas, which by the way is another annoyance. $2.82 a gallon! Geez! Anyway, when I start the car back up and turn the stereo back on I get nothing! I was right by the dealership so I stopped in but it was going to take at least 1 1/2 hours to look at it and I had, joy of joys, a staff meeting to faciliate so I couldn't wait.

So you can begin to see how this day was shaping up. But, wait, it get's better. And while the explanation of my frustration cannot be fully comprehended without really knowing about our staffing structure I will try to put it in a nutshell-which by the way is very difficult for me. I am the Project Manager and oversee a staff of 6 people. I report to a Vice President of my division. And while in my performance appraisal I was told that I needed to work on exerting my authority with staff, you would think I would get some support with that. And maybe it was just my perception today, but I felt that my boss really undermined me in the meeting. But that was that and frankly I'm kind of used to that around here anyway. And though I don't want rush to judgement and told myself that this was not her intention, it still pisses me off.

Then the kicker today is related to a social event planned for tomorrow-and as I put this on paper it seems silly to be so annoyed. But annoyance on top of annoyance breeds discontent and grumpiness-so it was inevitable. Anyway, every once in a while we schedule a potluck lunch at work. The purpose of this lunch is first and foremost to eat yummy food. But it also a chance to socialize with co-workers in a more relaxed and social atmosphere. This event involves not only my staff, but several other teams within our division.

Well one of my staff members made a comment during the meeting about the taco salad she signed up to bring and how she couldn't even cook dinner for her family (i.e. herself and her husband) much less something for the potluck. Ok, I know people are busy and I am not assuming because she does not have children that her time isn't as precious as mine, but c'mon. YOU decided to sign up for taco salad. So she switched to salsa, but no that wasn't good enough either. She had to go and try to rally support from a limited number of my staff-mind you without consulting with ME, her supervisor (if you know me,this statement is certatinly no power trip). So through the grapevine I hear about this and how plans are being made to reschedule. HOLD THE PHONE MABEL! When does the desires on one employee outweigh the desires of all others-unless of course you're the BIG BOSS. So I politely and calmly indicated by email that potlucks are voluntary and if someone has changed their mind please let us know because the potluck was still going on. Some people had already bought the food they were going to bring and many of us look forward to this one ray of sunshine in our otherwise dreary work week.

So after putting this all down in all of it's bloggy splendor, I guess it's not that bad after all. I am rejoicing now that after tomorrow I will have a 4 day weekend. Then I won't be able to wait to come back to the grind so I have more material to blog about. Funny how that works.

The Part Where Child Protective Services Determines Me to be an Unfit Parent

Ok, it has been well established (at least on my blog-and many others for that matter) that parenting is hard work. What with the feeding and the clothing and the disciplining and the supervising that goes into parenting, it's a wonder we ever get anything done. And furthermore it's a wonder we can keep our sanity in check while we're doing it. I'm also a firm believer that parents are allowed to...strike that....parents are destined to make mistakes. The problem lies when those mistakes result in bodily or pyschological injury.

Case in point: Do not leave your child unattended in the house while baking a rack a baby back ribs when you have a dramatic child and a really concerned neighbor whose husband is a firefighter.

Now I know the suspense must be killing you after that set up. But as my daughter is prone to exaggerated dramatics, I too may be guilty of making this story to be much more intriguing than it really is. So to allay your fears my child was not left unattended (technically) and there was not a fire, in fact the ribs were quite tender and delicious. But it appears that there may be a case of BAD PARENTING to deal with. And the guilt is eating me up.

Now to explain myself. My daughter was playing down the street with her friend and while her usual time to come home was 5:00, she asked if she could stay an extra hour. Since we have longer daylight, I gave her permssion but told her that we were going to run to the store. Her instructions were to come home in about an hour and use her key to get in if we're not home yet. I assured her that we would be right back and not to worry if she beat us home. So I head out to the store and get what I need and head home.

As I pull into my driveway, about 15 minutes later than my daugher, I see my concerned neighbor entering my house. Of course all bad scenarios cross my mind-what will she think about the 12 beer bottles lined up on my counter because the recycling bin is full? Did my husband leave dirty underwear and socks on the living room floor? Or maybe, what happened to my child that the neighbor had to be called over into my house? I think she was just as panicked as I was when she realized that we were home and she had entered our house. She said that my daughter had been in the front yard "screaming" so she came to see what was wrong. And my daughter told her that her parents weren't home and something about the oven being on which led the neighbor to reach the conclusion that there was huge fireball in our kitchen, especially with the way my daughter was carrying on.

So now not only does it appear that we left a 7 year old unattended-which I'm pretty sure is an arrestable offense or at least begs reason to be interviewed and evaluated by child protective services. But we also leave her unattended with a rack of baby back ribs cooking in a 300 degree oven. Which is not a crime, but certainly a safety risk. I'm proud to say that my daughter's diligence about cooking safety is testament to my wonderful parenting. You see, recently, she has been worried about the house catching on fire. She had a bad dream about a fire, and probably can't avoid hearing about house fires every once in awhile when they are reported on the news. Although I'm not sure exactly where the fear came from, I have tried to calm her fear. I told her that fires only occur when someone is careless. Like when they leave food cooking unattended-maybe? So that was why she was so frantic in the front yard. She was only reacting to a lesson that was taught by her mother who certainly didn't want to get into faulty wiring or lightning strikes which have also been known to spark house fires.

So at the end of the day either I'm a really bad parent because I left my child in an potentially unsafe situation

or

I'm a fairly good parent because my fire saftey lesson has been taken quite seriously by my child.

Now if I can get her to listen to me when it comes to sex, drugs, and rock and roll then maybe I'm not doing so bad afterall.

Odds and Sods

Random weekend events.....

Deep in the Heart of Texas
Have you ever eaten at a Texas Roadhouse? I had not until this past weekend. I had to travel to Asheville, NC for work this weekend and ate at the restaurant closest to the hotel. I take that back. The restaurant closest to the hotel was actually in the hotel and was called Chatts. My traveling companion, who incidentally is a state lobbyist for issues that the nonprofit agency that I work for supports, wanted to eat at the hotel. But I convinced her to branch out and we traversed the parking lot of another hotel and a gas station to arrive at the Texas Roadhouse. Being the only restaurant, except for Chatts, close to the hotel complex it was rather busy. We decided to eat at the bar so we wouldn't have to wait. We got two seats, not at the main bar, but in the bar area which had a ledge and faced out to the main dining area. We enjoyed our dinner and the country music playing. But then the gears shifted somewhat and some dance pop music started playing. Before we knew it we had a front row seat to a line dancing performance. I guess the restaurant encourages (requires) the waitresses to partcipate in this dancing spectacle right in front of the bar ledge we were seated. Truthfully, I wasn't looking forward to this trip all that much. First it was a 3 1/2 hour drive one way and I had to go overnight and stay in a hotel with a person I don't know very well and who can be somewhat of a pain. Nonetheless I survived and got to hear many sordid and juicy stories about our state representatives. But I won't spread them here.

Mistaken Identity
We have a delightful little business operating in the town where I work called Cherry Pie. It is housed in a neat and tidy yellow building with Colonial type architecture and french doors. The sign nor the building give no clues at to what type of business this is. Many of you will recogize the reference as this post proceeds, however many do not. One of my co-workers thought that it was a bakery. I can see the logic behind that assumption. When I was returning from my work trip this weekend we had to pass this establishment. We stopped at the light in front of it and the woman I was traveling with notices it.

TC (Traveling companion): "Cherry Pie? Is that some kind of restaurant?"
Me: Not exactly. (smirking)
TC: What is it then?
Me: Well, it's...um....an adult type store. (chuckling)
TC: Oh! I never would have guessed. Doesn't look like they're doing much business.
Me: My husband's old boss' wife has a girl's night out with the neighborhood women and one time they went there. His wife didn't go in the store though and sat in the car and waited.
TC: Why on earth would women want to go there???
Me: Well, they do have some things for women. Like lingerie and....toys and aides, you know.
TC: Ohhhh....I thought you meant it was strip club.

Bad Teenage Mustaches
Totally random, but Adam Morrison, the Gonzaga basketball player, looks eerily similar to one of my junior high boyfriends. Especially the hairstyle and the moustache. Sorry to say though, that you can get away with a bad teenage moustache and feathered hair when you're 13 years old and it is circa 1982. No cracks on his basketball playing abilities, but that kid needs a stylist.

Lawn Care
I must live next door to Hank Hill. I'm sure of it after this weekend. For the past two weekends our next door neighbors have had a large noisy beeping dump truck dumping loads of what I first thought was mulch but actually may be soil on their front lawn. They then spread it and surrounded the spread out dirt with wooden trim. The dirt patch is in a decorative shape, almost like a kidney shaped swimming pool. Too bad they weren't getting a pool. Instead, I think they must be planting some kind of garden area. Then they spent the weekend racing ATVs around their yard and down the street. Also our neighbor wears overalls. I'm waiting to see what they eventually do with the dirt patch....stay tuned.

Put Away the Broom
How does the number one NCAA baseball team lose 2 of 3 of their last games- which is almost more than what they have lost the entire season so far??? The mighty Florida State Seminoles came to town to play the UNC Tarheels this weekend for a three game series. My husband attended the Friday night game of the series and UNC won convincingly. We missed the Saturday game, but evidently the Noles lost in the last inning due to errors. Fortunately, though, they finally won on Sunday. We attended and got really sunburnt. In case you were wondering, baseball fans can be just as rude and obnoxious as football fans. A group of drunk frat boys decided to verbally abuse the Seminoles first base coach, insulting his manhood and using foul language. Now, I'm not a prude by any means, but let's have a little decorum here.