Nothing gets a party started quite like the smell of seared flesh, so it was a given that I'd fall prey to the mass hypnosis that was BBQ on the River over the weekend. First item on the agenda Friday night was a stop at Jeremy's office where he and wife Sue Ellen had arranged a little pre-pork action. The conference room table was chock full of all manner of sushi and various and sundry other delectible appetizers. Brad and I sampled the food, and Sue Ellen proceeded to mix it up by serving up some pomegranate cosmopolitans. Then it was on to tent city en masse.

The throng of people was incredible, and everybody who's anybody was sidled up somewhere near a smoky pit. While the Cruisers played on, we managed to make our way through the crowd after about an hour to the beer jail. The beer jail was double fenced and dark which kicked up the creepy factor quite a bit. The only light was that of the beer trailers, and I kept thinking that (all things considered) it would be quite easy for anyone to pick up my purse and take off with my identity but more importantly with my camera. After about an hour the cosmos kicked in full-force, and I decided that it would be best for all involved if I made my way out of the jail and headed home.


The next day I suffered a mild case of the cocktail flu but pressed on to kick it up with some karaoke at the Talibarn. Jeremy and Sue Ellen grilled up some tasty dogs and brats and even pulled out some brand new karaoke CDs to add to their already sizeable collection. While Brad and Estrelia got friendly, the rest of us sang every single song ever recorded during the 1970s...my favorite decade for music. We had to pack it in a little early but not before Brad sang for his supper.


Namaste

I have been such a poor correspondent lately (again). In my own defense, yoga has been kicking my down dog lately, and I have been simply too exhausted to move. Note the lovely pose in the photo. It's not my own, of course. You can tell by the way her heels touch the ground. Mine usually look like I'm wearing some kind of weird Wonder Woman invisible boots. I can't get my heels even close to the mat. Plus, this yogi has a real live matching yoga ensemble. Not my style...or more to the point...not in my budget.

Before I started doing yoga for the first time, I thought it was probably a lot like bowling...a fringe sport, something anyone could pick up within a couple of practice frames. Little did I know that there is form involved (which could possibly apply to real bowlers), as well as lots and lots of sore muscles and practice. Yoga is a mind/body experience. Bringing focus to each pose is part of the practice itself. Tim is always telling us to "be aware" during our practice and to bring awareness to the parts of our bodies with the most resistance. This, for me, is not difficult as each pose feels excruciatingly painful to two or more muscle groups. Drishdi is impossible with the likes of me around groaning and giggling and talking in my outside voice about being a yoga flunky. Yogis are by nature very tolerant people, however, so they keep letting me come back regardless.

To all you wonderful, beautiful, patient, accepting yogis in my Monday/Thursday classes...this Namaste is for you!

It's 5:45 a.m. on Saturday, and I'm listening to the soundtrack from La Vie en Rose. Brad and I took the movie in last Sunday at the Maiden Alley Cinema. I loved the film and became infected by Edith Piaf. The depth of her voice is amazing. It reminds me a lot of Judy Garland's due in part to her musical style. Edith's story is tragic, and I never even tired of reading the subtitles (rare for me) or watching Marion Cotillard's brilliant performance.

On Monday I went to see Robin at Pauley's and got most all of my hair cut off. It's so funny to see people's reactions when you go for a big change. Most people are really nice about it. Many of those who don't like it simply ignore it or act like they didn't notice that half of your hair is gone. One person went so far as to say, "Wow. You got your hair cut. You look like William Sledd. Ha ha." An odd comparison, but I can think of worse things she could have said, I guess.

I recently started going back to yoga class thanks to a very Bizzy friend of mine. The first class went fairly well, and although I was a little sore in my upper body the next day, I vigorously patted myself on the back imagining beautiful twisted triangles and headstands within 7 days. Then this past Thursday Tim got hold of me. All during class I lamented being a yoga flunky remembering my former flexibility. I had no idea how much I would pay for being a yoga dropout. Today is Saturday, and so many muscles still hurt that I feel like I have the flu.

Last night I spent some time with my friends Sue Ellen and Jeremy. Sue Ellen fixed a delicious low-cal pizza, and we sat around catching up.

Today I am headed to Carlisle County to enjoy yet another delicious dinner with my family. I am looking forward to getting out of the city and spending time with my parents. Sorry about the short, boring post, but I think I need to take some Tylenol and lie back down. Anyone have any chicken soup?

Namaste

Oh, and one more thing...

Be sure to check out my friend Brad's feature on the iList.

Mary is right...he is cute, cute, cute. But he's also hilarious and intelligent and big fun to be around in general. He often plays a prominent role in this very blog.

So, Brad, where's your blog? We're waiting....

Namaste

Your Presidential Match

A friend from work sent me this little gem of a web link that tests how your own personal views match up with some of the hottest issues facing the presidential candidates. Talk about your Presidential Love Connection. I am on fire with John Edwards, but I must admit that Hillary ranked up there as a relatively close second.

The internet is a beautiful thing.

Namaste

Kid Pebble

As usual, I am the last to know...

I nearly busted my spleen laughing when I read this little news tidbit.




United Press International

Tommy Lee says he was just minding his own business watching Alicia Keys perform at the MTV Video Music Awards in Las Vegas when Kid Rock came up and punched him the face, TMZ.com said.

In a posting on his Web site, TommyLee.tv, the rocker said he was in the front row of the show hanging out with magician Criss Angel when his ex-wife, Pamela Anderson, "who I love and adore," approached and sat on his lap.

"I get a tap on the shoulder from Kid Pebble," he said of Anderson's other ex-husband. "I stand up and embrace him with a semi-hug and say: 'Hey, dude. What up?' He punches me in the face... Well, if you wanna call it that! More like a b**** slap!"

Lee said that before he could knock "this jealous, no-career-havin' country bumpkin out," security guards for the Palms casino and hotel separated them.
"So, I'm fine and, of course, leave to my room with police and owner George Maloof. The rest is paper work and (crap.) Anyway, I would like to apologize to Alicia (Keys) and George and MTV for the disrespectful (crap) caused by a piece of (crap) called Kid Pebble."

Namaste (or something)

First, let me start by saying Vote for William Sledd to win the Rachael Ray YouTube Stars competition. Come on, people...who in their right mind would want to make a purse out of some old boxer shorts anyway? Who has time to sit around bedazzling old t-shirts or to go skulking around Goodwill for grab bag items to glue on their tennis shoes? William deserves your vote! William is concerned about the American public. He is the Superhero of the Mall, spending his invaluable superhero time fighting fashion crimes and exposing fashion villains for their mockery of good taste. He cares about the American shopper. He cares that crocs look absolutely ridiculous. He cares about the possibility of bloodborne pathogens lurking in the fibers of the surgical scrubs that people dare to shop in. He is the only person brave enough to take up arms against windsuits and carpenter jeans! He cares about me, the fashionista wanna-but-nevergonnahavethecashto-be. William cares!

So VOTE NOW!

Namaste

I couldn't wait to see Tim's show last night. When questioned today at work about what made it different than the others, I paused to ponder. Tim and his crew provide a much more positive, respectful attitude toward the subjects, and it's greatly appreciated and felt by the viewers. I for one am exhausted by the negativity found in other makeover shows. I'm tired of snooty stylists making fashion scapegoats out of fans and viewers. It's refreshing to see someone who actually wants you "to succeed."

Thank you, Tim, for not perpetuating the fashion divide between those who wish to be stylish and those who are. So far, so good!

Namaste

A friend of mine told me about Miss Denise Hewitt and her YouTube posts the other day, and I've spent the last two nights trying to figure out how to get her added to my blog. After hours of researching, I realized that posting the video is much easier than I'd ever imagined. Anyway, I wanted to say that I believe that Denise may be one of the bravest people I've ever seen. Denise reports for work daily as a man but in her off time performs beautiful piano pieces while dressed as a woman, videotapes the performances and uploads them to YouTube here.

The thought of someone like Denise, with the guts to go the distance both creatively and personally makes me feel like a total phony with my rinky-dink fluff and fold posts. I hope that one day I can become half the woman that Denise is. Here's to you, Denise!

Namaste

According to the Urban Dictionary:

murse
A man-purse. Very fashion-forward right now, seen on many hipster guys. The line between a messenger bag and murse is very fluid - typically a murse is a bit smaller than a traditional messenger and may have a slightly more stylized look to it. A murse can also be used to carry a laptop computer - one of the reasons it is so popular right now.

"Wow, Mark's new laptop fits perfectly into that small bag he carries"

"Yeah, that's a great murse. It matches his american apparel shirt."

I am fascinated by the murse. I carry a purse every single day of the year. It is both a curse and a godsend. Most women have collections of purses stacked high inside their closets. They pull different ones out to match their shoes or their ensemble or their mood. I am of the other variety. I am one of those women who carries the exact same purse with every outfit until its seams begin to rip or an essential strap breaks. I despise changing purses. The thought of pulling everything out of my purse to place into another purse serving the exact same purpose is enough to send me 'round the bend. Plus, inevitably when I do change purses, I lose either my keys or my lipstick. In any one of my old purses you will likely find old receipts, at least one pink hue of lipstick, an ink pen that no longer works, a stray earring, a tattered tampon and countless pennies and nickels.

So, I've been thinking about the murse. Exactly what would a man carry around in one? Thanks to a very dear and clever friend of mine, now we know...

Namaste

Where do I begin? The weekend has been chock full. You are looking at a mother-in-law. My daughter and her boyfriend were joined in matrimony on Friday during a very small private ceremony. When I'm in the middle of some really big thing, an important event like my daughter getting married, I tend to think about this quote by Andy Warhol that sorta explains how I feel:

"People sometimes say that the way things happen in the movies is unreal, but actually it's the way things happen to you in life that's unreal. The movies make emotions look so strong and real, whereas when things really do happen to you, it's like watching television."

I don't know how to explain it except for that. It's like whatever it is that's happening is so big that my brain can't process it. It gets suspended until I get some private time to really consider it. I'm not one of those people that generally cries at funerals or weddings. I can only cry when something sad catches me totally off-guard...like seeing my daughter try on a wedding gown. Either that or I save up my crying for some incredibly stupid and inappropriate thing like a Lifetime movie.

So, after the matrimonial exchange I kept the baby most of the evening. Nothing makes you more nostalgiac than babysitting your granddaughter. Kids grow up way too fast. It's funny, because they are babies and toddlers for just a little while, then they're age 9 and 10 forever and then they're teenagers for a couple of seconds and they're gone. I'm not sure why that is.

Saturday I spent most of the day cleaning my house. I got the Nick Drake CD Pink Moon from Amazon, so I listened to it about 19 times while I cleaned. Music is the only thing that seems to motivate me to housework. Actually, I guess it's more like a resignation, and I need music to help me forget about the resentment of cleaning's necessity. On Sunday I met up with my friend Brad and we ventured down to the MAC to see To Kill a Mockingbird. It was so fun seeing it on the big screen. All of the characters in the movie said "churren" for the word children which cracked me up. Then afterward Brad accompanied me to Bizzy and Tom's for pad thai. I cannot impress upon you, dear readers, of the magnitude of the dinner's deliciousness. I have had pad thai before and have always been somewhat underwhelmed. This changed my whole attitude. To top it all off, there was a gorgeous strawberry pie for dessert!

By the way, at some point during the weekend, I watched The Painted Veil. There were a couple of predictable points in the movie, but all in all it was quite good. More importantly, Ed Norton was incredibly hot...much hotter than Liev Schreiber who also starred.

Namaste