fingerprints

I was lying in bed last night thinking about the people that had a hand in shaping the woman I am. I'm writing about these people on this blog as a personal reminder. The stories may be boring, but they're important to me. I never want to forget them, even though they're no longer in my life. ~~~~~

My Uncle Bill owned Oak Cliff Music Company for over fifty years. He knew music, loved music, and put food on the table because of music. He was small in stature, but a larger than life character. When I was v. small I thought he was Groucho Marx. I'd watched one of the old Marx Brothers films on t.v. - it was sometime around Christmas, and I remember that he came to our house with my Aunt Ella to visit later that night.

"Are you Groucho?", I asked.

I remember him laughing, and doing a dead-on impression, and from that day forward he became my favorite childhood Uncle. (Technically/ironically he was a "Great" Uncle.)

A couple of Christmas' later they came to the house, and he'd brought along a stack of records. A couple of those records were Sinatra, and I remember the familiar frown on my Mother's face when she was filing through the stack.

"I don't care for him," she said. I think she went on to call him a "gangster", and I know she didn't care for his liberal leanings, although that's something I didn't figure out until much later.

My Uncle Bill ignored her, put on a record, and whispered in my ear ~

"He's a genius, kiddo."

Now you know part of the reason I love Frank.

Uncle Bill was especially fond of Sinatra's collaborations with Billy May and Nelson Riddle. He once told me "the best songs are the one's by Sammy Cahn and Johnny Mercer. If they've had a hand in a song, and Sinatra interprets it - then it's gold."

If you put a gun to my head, and made me choose ten of my favorite Sinatra recordings, at least half of those would be Cahn and/or Mercer tunes.

"All The Way", "Guess I'll Hang My Tears Out To Dry", "High Hopes", "One For My Baby", and "Time After Time" are some of the songs I'll never, ever get tired of.

I've got a compilation c.d. called "Sinatra Sings The Select Sammy
Cahn". I bought it a couple of years ago, and it's ended up being one of my favorites.

Cahn frequently praised Sinatra's innate understanding of songs in general and his in particular. "He has an intuitive sense of how they should be done. If you hear me do one of my songs, I know where the words should go, what the words mean, where they fall, and all that. And so does he, I mean exactly. We just look at each other." As Sammy often liked to say, he put more words in Sinatra's mouth than any other songwriter.

Out of all the gifts my Uncle Bill gave me, I think my appreciation for the Chairman is one of the most dear. He taught me to enjoy things just because. He taught me my opinion mattered. He gave me a touch of bravery, and that's deeper than just "Sinatra", really.

Ironically enough, one of the things they said when they asked if I'd be interested in heading up Entertainment and Ceremonies for next years Relay was that I'd bring a "young, hip, and fresh approach" to the job.

My Uncle Bill would get a kick out of that.

So - who touched your life in some seemingly small way?

p.s. As sad as it may seem, this is good news for sports fans around these parts. Trust me. This is one of the goofiest areas for sports fans I've ever experienced.

familiar tune

It's a passion that has no boundaries.

A part of me is pulling for Canada, but it's silly to claim that the fans in Tampa Bay don't deserve the Cup.

It frustrates me that people in general aren't as passionate about the game as I am. Is it a "Sunbelt" thing? A Southern thing? It certainly doesn't help when everyone around you loves NASCAR and college hoops (no offense to NASCAR and college hoops fans.)

The team that wins the Cup deserves the Cup. Period. It's the most difficult championship to win in the world of Sport. If you understand that - understand the game, and - yeah - all of the nuances - then you'll appreciate it. It has nothing to do with Geography and/or Nationality.

(btw - I adore Darryl Sydor, which is the part of me that's pulling for Tampa Bay. I also remember chatting with Brad Lukowich a couple of times. He was a real nice guy, too.)

Speaking of sports ~

I finally got the chance to listen to Dev's Hot Corner radio show thing this morning. If you guys enjoy talk about Texas baseball, then you should give it a listen.

Later~

Go Flames

small world

A couple of days ago I spoke with the folks at the ACS office about my role with The Relay, and I got some encouraging news. Evidently they were impressed enough with me to offer up not only leadership/tech training in D.C., but an additional (larger) job. I've been asked to chair Ceremonies and Entertainment. What does this mean? I'll be booking the bands, lining up speakers, etc.

Awwyeah. Me. In control of Entertainment, Speakers, etc. How do you keep 20,000 people happy and entertained for two days? I've got ideas.

One of the great things about the leadership training is that it will be the same week a v. good friend from Dallas will be in D.C. with Belo. (insert Mr. Burns voice) Excellent.

Saturday night I went to a "work" party for D. The second person I happen to see is this guy that completely creeps me out. He's this odd little version of Steve Buscemi, right down to the pencil-thin mustache. He's shifty. Shady. Slimy.

He looked me up-and-down and said, "We were just talking about you. I'm so glad you were able to make it."

Not long ago he'd sent me an e-mail asking if I wanted to go to dinner. I made sure I informed D. I told him that this guy disturbs me, and he said he should because he'd "fuck me in a heartbeat." This is not the kind of stuff I want to discuss with D.

I was dressed up for the shindig in a little red and hot pink sundress with spaghetti straps. (Sidenote: One of the brilliant/maddening things about warm weather are the cute skin-baring things a woman can wear.) I was standing in the kitchen, and the creepy guy came in to "get a beer". He bent down to "tie his shoe", and I'm pretty sure he was trying to look up my dress. I'm a pretty nice person, but I made sure he got the point that I do. not. like. him.

I did, however, end up loving a new girlfriend that I picked up at the party. She came with her friend that works with D. She was putting away her bottle of wine, and overheard me talking about moving from Texas. She said that she moved here about a year ago, and that she was a Texas girl. Before you know it we're chatting about the things we miss, like The Ticket, The Gingerman (mmmmmm - draft Boddington's), sports, etc. We had a lot in common. We all ended up going to some trendy overpriced tapas-martini-bar place around the corner, and I think I remember dancing, getting complimented on my dancing (which, if you knew me in real life would make you laugh), and a few hands on my bottom. (Sidenote: Why do certain guys think it's o.k. to put their hands on a strangers ass when she's trying to make her way through a crowd? Is it the alcohol? The hour?) Before you could say "one more round, barkeep", it was nearly 2:00 a.m., and I was far too tipsy.

Yesterday I was hung over. Bad. Enough to make me swear off the hooch again. It's such a vicious little circle - you have a drink at a party to loosen up, you loosen up and make a new "best friend" that you find out you have too many things in common with. You decide it would be a super idea to go get martini's. Etcetera. I don't like going to clubs, and this is a reminder of why. I don't enjoy wondering "Did I really do this? Did I really say that?" I am not that girl.

It is a new day.

p.s. I don't know why, but I've got the theme song from "Davy Crockett" stuck in my head today.

a sure sign this blog needs to take a break from itself

This guy just spent the last two days installing the new kitchen/family room floor.

O.K. So it wasn't really John Stamos, but, I swear-to-goodness, he couldn't possibly have looked any more like him. It was freaky.

A while back I asked the girl that does my hair if she knew any good "handymen". She said, "Yeah - he's a great guy, and a real perfectionist." I think she casually mentioned ".... and he's somewhat cute."

I answered the door yesterday afternoon, and the next thing I know I'm trying to figure out how I can casually take a picture of him so that I can post one of those side-by-side picture things on the blog.

That's sad.

Anyway - we've started to do all the wrap-up work on the big event I'm not talking about anymore. (Committee evaluations, the next newsletter, planning for next year, etc.) I'm feeling a little bit of an emotional let-down, but I'm ready for the next challenge with the Komen Foundation.

In the meantime I'm working out like a madwoman again, and I'm doing the best that I can to be happy in the midst of chaos. I know I've only got one shot at this life gig.

Have a great weekend. Better blogging "material" promised in the future. Maybe more skivvie talk. (At least some pictures, I promise. Of the event. Not the skivvies.)

btw - It wouldn't surprise me to see Shrek 2 tampons. What's up with all the marketing for this movie? I want to see it, o.k.?

Later~

Congratulations to David, The Largehearted Boy, who loves to share the music he loves with the world. (This is much better news than the passing of Tony Randall.)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(insert Twilight Zone music here)

I couldn't make this stuff up.

Yesterday I had the theme from The Odd Couple stuck in my head all day.

Today, this. Sad, and kind of creepy.

It's probably not the best time to write a blog post.

I'm still very tired (reasons not entirely to blame on the Relay), but I'll focus on the positive things going on.

We're reporting that we've raised 2.7 million so far (nearly 1 million more than the internal goal, which is less than what's reported to the media). I'm sick of writing about this on this blog, and you guys are probably a little tired of reading about it, but I've got to say - in all honesty - this was one of the best things I've ever done in my life. Seeing all those survivors take the first lap (Sidenote: the leaders of the first lap carried the banner "12 and Under". This was the first time I had to wipe away tears.), and applauding them all was both humbling and inspirational. I did a little bit of everything. I served 75 Middle School volunteers dinner, I registered teams, I handed out t-shirts, I took pictures (I'll post some soon), I passed out luminarias, I changed clothes in a POD building, and I hugged a lot of people.

I know I've been tired before, but this was different. The kind of exhausted where you gaze off into the distance, and you think about stuff like your shoe, or the heat, or the freckle on your right leg. This felt good. This made me happy.

Another thing that made me happy was getting a copy of the new Diana Krall c.d. in the mail, along with a "bonus". I wanted the Diana Krall c.d., but I've ended up becoming v. smitten with the Chip Taylor and Carrie Rodriguez c.d. (Another big thank you to some of the nicest people I've never met.) The song Memphis, Texas makes me cry, and gave me goosebumps the first time I heard it. Why have I not heard of them before?

Saturday night I drank an entire bottle of good wine. I made more friends. I unwound. I found out I'm not alone.

First of all, to the persons (who shall remain anonymous) that sent me the Blue Bell Ice Cream for my birthday, you made me cry in a good way. Thank you from the bottom of my ice cream lovin' heart. You rock.

I've been abstaining from cocktails, and trying to get to bed early the past couple of nights. It helps, especially after chaos-filled days. I haven't fit exercise into my schedule as much as I should, so I got up extra early for some Pilates. My back and hamstrings were really tight, but at least I got through it. My back is still a little wonky from loading 100 cases of water, wheelchairs, etc. to the PODS that will be taken to the sites tomorrow.

I've got my shorts, and even though there's not as many pockets as I was hoping for, they are cute, and they don't hit me about the knee, or expose delicate areas of my bottom that are reserved for special eyes only. (Sidenote: I realize the really short shorts are the "in" thing, but I just can't go about my business in public with my cheeks (cute as they may be) exposed.) Speaking of bottoms, I got sidetracked on my shoe purchase when I went into Victoria's Secret to pick up my free perfume, and found myself looking through the underwear. I don't need it, but I can't help wanting it. Some women like shoes - I like lingerie. I made a cursory glance at the sneakers at Lady Footlocker, but didn't buy anything. tsk tsk. I've got more work to do, but my personal duties have been fulfilled (for the moment.) I'm helping the other committees now.

I'm going to try to fit a camera somewhere in my gear for pics of the upcoming event. I've got a girl-party-celebration-thing Saturday night, and I've been advised there will be plenty of wine and Heinekens. You can go ahead and color me tickled-pink.

*Footnote: The best thing about keeping insanely busy is staying away from bad news. I don't want to be a head-in-the-sand sort of person, but there's times the bits and pieces I see are just too painful to watch.

I'm so busy, and frustrated, and tired, and hot, and confused that I think my head will explode.

It's all for a good cause, though.

Other pressing issues and thoughts include:

I need to get some good, comfy shoes for the Relay. Preferably something colorful and sneaker-ish. (Any suggestions?) I've also got to get some sort of cute, stylish khaki-cargo-ish-type shorts. Something I can tuck dollar bills for the boys in the "drag" contest, phone, comb, lipgloss, Altoids, and car keys in. (I can't shlepp a purse around, and I'll be damned if I'm wearing a fanny pack, yo.)

I've been told I'll be the "face" of the Relay for media-purposes, so now I'm fretting over the possibility of bad weather and bags under my eyes. I've got my media "script" ~ what to say to reporters, and what not to say. I've learned you never, under any circumstances, say "no comment".

I hate Microsoft Publisher. Hate hate hate it.

I'm really too old now to say stuff like "yo".

I'd like to give a special shout-out to Diet Coke with Lime. Thank you for helping me keep the fingers flying.

Can you tell that I'm really tired? Goofy-tired? My guess is yep.

p.s. Woohoo, Calgary! I really don't like San Jose.

This weekend we're going to party like it's our birthday.

Maybe.

I've got to go to another meeting now. I'm really tired, and I'm sad, and I'm wishing I could change certain things. I know that the meeting will get me jazzed, but right now all I want is some of this.

I miss it.

Much Later~

I feel like my fuse is getting shorter and shorter. This is stupid. I'm exhausted past the point of what's sane. I'm going back today for a few hours, then there's another meeting tonight. Counting money last night helps put things into perspective, I guess. I did that last night. There must've been over $100,000 in cash and checks in the room. So far there's been close to a million banked.

Right now I need coffee. I need to fold the clean laundry I've tossed on the sofa. I need to quit "winding down" with a couple glasses of wine.

Wait - there's one more thing I need.

I need ideas for songs for the opening ceremony. Something upbeat, positive, up-tempo. Perhaps instrumental - maybe something that rocks a bit. The theme from "Rocky" is just a little corny (to me, at least.) Think sporting event - Olympics - etc. Please give me some ideas - my brain is useless right now. Pretty please.

dear internet void,

I am a very persistent person. Determined. Strong-willed. Stubborn. Competitive. It's very difficult for me to give up. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, but it can be stressful. Give me a break sometimes, o.k.?

My needs are simple, and the things I enjoy are simple. For example: It's a rainy, cool day. If I could spend this day any way I wanted it would be as follows:
*Put on jeans, socks, long-sleeved t-shirt.
*Go in the kitchen and cook something bacon-y.
*Get my blanket, snack, drink, and love-of-my-life. Stretch out on the world's most comfortable couch to watch movies.
*Make out.
(btw - What I most definitely don't feel like doing is schlepping all this cancer stuff back to the office. I know I need to get it done. Have I ever mentioned that I can be a world-class procrastinator?)

I don't get people here. Yesterday we went to some friends for a b.b.q. I tried to chat with the ladies, but it was apparent that no one was going to be "real". I enjoy light, witty banter. I enjoy a good rant. I hate to harp on stuff like "well, my old friends back home were so much better because we could really talk" here, but, you know, that's just the way it is. Most of the people I've met seem to be very tightly wound. They don't know how to let their hair down. Loosen up. Appearances are everything to these people. Sometimes I feel like asking them, "when's the last time you had a really good romp in the hay? You know, have you been fucked well lately?" I could never say something like that, though.

I'm a sentimental, emotional person. A sucker. A sap. An idiot.

Laughter is the best medicine. Humor = sexy. People who tell corny jokes are the sort of people you should fall in love with. You think I'm kidding? I'm not.

Currently listening to music, dragging my feet, listening to the rain, and trying not to be depressed, which isn't easy, especially when you think you're not entitled.