The Grand Finale February 16, 2009

Saturday evening marked what would be the final GIRLS!GIRLS!GIRLS! performance – at least in its current incarnation. For those of you unfamiliar with this strange phenomenon that I inadvertently started a little more than a year ago, it can be breifly summarized as this: four female musicians from various (and varying) bands come together a few times a year to perform an ecelctic mix of both original music and old standards – frequently in four-part harmony, eliciting both Vaudeville and Andrews Sisters comparisons.

Valentine’s Day was our fifth and final show together, and what a way to quit while we were on top. With our biggest turnout to date, we packed The Thirsty Ear wall to wall for most of the evening. The crowd was rambunctious and game for what we were dishing, and by the time we wrapped the set with a fiery little rendition of “Fever,” even the air in that room was on fire.

But let me rewind – to approximately 6 hours before the show. To where I’m just waking up (for the second time that day) and having trouble doing so. Hanging on my closet door is a red dress. It was once floor-length with a little rhinestone pin attached at the waste, but is now stripped of any ornamentation and cut jaggedly to nearly half its former length. You see, about a week before, I’d had grandiose ideas about revamping my dress from Christmas into a saucy little number for Valentine’s Day. But here we were, day of the show, with an unwearable garment hanging limply before me and little hope.

Procrastination becomes me. What can I say?

Anyway – at this point, my roommate and fellow GIRL! shows up in the form of salvation. She was a former costume design major in college, and although she didn’t complete the program, she did pick up a trick or two, and we now had about an hour and a half to put said tricks to use. I did what little I could, evening out the cut we’d made and pinning up a rough hem, the she took over, and something miraculous occurred: a little sewing machine action and a few darts later, we had an LRD that was not just wearable but quite the stunner. I threw a short, black petticoat underneath, pinned on a black rose where the rhinestones had been, pulled on some black tights and 4-inch ankle boots and…. voila! Out the door with time to spare, AND that dress got more compliments than anything else I’ve ever worn to ANY show. In short: my roommate is amazing, and may have a place on the next Project Runway.

But I’ll quit boring you tales of small fashion miracles.

What I’m really getting at is that these shows have been so fun, so challenging, so musically educational, and have given me the best excuse to work with three women I would’nt otherwise have much opportunity to and to sing songs I would have no other reason to sing. It started out one thing, and became something so completely novel and endearing, and the audiences at these have been some of the most moving I’ve ever had the pleasure of performing for. I’ll write rock forever, but it’s priceless to know the other possibilities and to have tasted them.

Now – a brief photo-essay of my experience as one of the GIRLS!:

I Wasn’t Looking for Love… January 30, 2009

This time last year, I was trying my damnedest not to be a Valentine’s Day Grinch, when along came the Girls!Girls!Girls! Valentine’s Day Edition to spare me the trouble. It was difficult for anyone (single, coupled, lonely, jaded) to not feel loved that evening as the whole night turned out to be a giant, singing, dancing (yes dancing) valentine from me and the girls to everyone in the audience.

We were unsure a year ago how many people would want to spend their Valentine’s Day at The Thirsty Ear (notably lively and energetic, but maybe not the first place to come to mind when seeking romance). But out of the cold and into the warm, candle-lit club they came in droves. So, this year it’s on again. For anyone who’s never attended a Girls! show, the quartet is made up of three ladies from other musical groups and myself. Our own projects run the gamut from rock to bluegrass, but we come together a few times a year to revive old standards (and a few not-so-old) in three- and four-part harmony.

So Columbians… or Columbusites… or those of you living in Columbus: If your plans for the 14th are looking a little, well, vague, allow me to clarify. No matter what you do earlier in the day or evening, arrive alone or with your date at The Thirsty Ear at 9pm and we’ll take care of the rest. We’ve never played a show that didn’t get a little out of hand (in the best sense of the phrase) at some point or another, so a good time is guaranteed.

See you there!

~a

The GHP Part II January 19, 2009

….And so, after surviving an evening of teetering on the brink of embarrassment, I made it home by midnight – just in time to get a a decent night’s sleep before work the next day. J, however, was not so lucky; having procrastinated (a man after my own heart) he needed to be up by 4 a.m. to go home, pack and make the drive to North Carolina where he’d then be catching a red-eye to London, where his parents live. He looked like misery personified as he tucked the covers back over me and said, “good-bye.” It would be a week until I met him back in North Carolina. We are admittedly pathetic.

Myself, I had a few more days of work left before I could embark on my 11 days of vacation. But when Wednesday afternoon rolled around, the boss wrote us an e-mail saying, “Let’s all get out of here early and get to our families,” we rapidly obliged, and madness ensued.

First there was the annual Christmas Eve gathering at my grandmother’s house about an hour out of the city. Evil Twin was already there when my brother and I pulled in. Two years ago, Evil Twin drank a bit much at this little soiree. (Pomegranate martinis were the drink of the evening, I believe. I drank my first, and my Aunt refilled the glass. For the rest of the night, unbeknownst to anyone, Evil Twin downed both my refills and hers.) She ended up belligerently swearing at everyone in the car on the drive home, and we had to lock her in the garage with the dog until she was ready to pass out finally. So she expects to hear about it every year, and we never let her down. (Turns out that year was a fluke – no incidents since, but we still like to give her a hard time about it).

Christmas itself was a beautiful thing as always. No snow, sadly, but we awoke as usual, climbed the stairs, waited for Dad to come out and tell us (as he has every year since we were tiny), “Well, kids, I’m afraid it looks like Santa didn’t make it this year…” At this point everyone groans at this lame attempt, gives him a punch or two in the kidney, pushes past him to get to kitchen for some coffee and begins the unwrapping process. (What? This isn’t what happens in every American household on Christmas morning??)

This leg of the vacation went by quickly, and soon it was time for me to chuck my bags into Evil Twin’s car, which was so overloaded with their suitcases, gifts and dog that I had to cram myself into one-fourth of the back seat and insist that it was really fine and I was comfortable and ready to hit the road. She and her husband had offered to drive me back down to North Carolina to meet up with J at his family home there. It was a good deal; I couldn’t really complain.

But it was a long, claustrophobic haul down to North Carolina, with a few stops along the way (but if you ever have to stop for food in Charleston, WV, I have two words for you: Bluegrass Kitchen. Do it.). There was traffic and carsickness and FINALLY, at 8:00 p.m., at a little gas station outside of Winston-Salem, there was J.

I parted ways with Evil Twin and the In-Law, thanked them for the ride and invited them to come back to J’s for the New Year’s Eve party. Then it was time to get back on the road – we had 45 minutes of driving left, and a 9 o’clock reservation for dinner with J’s dad and sister. Time to meet the family…

(TBC)

~a

Hello, 2009 January 4, 2009

Ending a long vacation is always painful (or should be, and maybe is indicative of the quality of said vacation), but this one – the first extensive time off I’ve had in a two years?? – will be particularly difficult to conclude. Met J’s family for the first time, along with many friends of his I’d heard about but never met in person, and it went as well – if not better – than I could’ve hoped. His little sister (18 and still finishing up high school in London) and I got along a little too well (we’re totally going rogue – whatever that means), and his big brother flew up from Florida and we cooked tacos for everyone together one night and breakfast the next morning. His dad took note of how much I liked the wine at dinner one night, and gave me a bottle to take home with me. (He was also so worried that I would starve due to my wheat allergy and not eating red meat that he made a special trip to the store and stocked the fridge with fruit and veggies some kind of tofu thing that was also very sweet:) There was beer pong in “The Club.” There was champagne, mulled wine, cheap beer, expensive beer. There was more food than I even want to think about right now. There was Rock Band into the wee hours. There will be an entire entry devoted to all this soon, but I’m still attempting to digest everything that’s occurred in the last two weeks so I can relate it to you in some kind of meaningful way. More to come when I get back to Ohio (that’s another story – we’re stuck here an extra unexpected evening….. not that I’m complaining).

Happy 2009!!!

~a

Make Room in Your Heart for The Steamroller** December 24, 2008

I love the way this guy’s mind works. (And no one draws a more emotive stick figure. No one). Anyway, in the timeless words of Jimmy Stewart (running through the snow-covered streets, elated to be alive), “Hey – Merry Christmas Everybody! MERRY CHRISTMAS!”

**I-Chat discussion, December 24th, 2008, 9:45am:

(S is playing Christmas music on the office speakers)

a: Not gonna lie, S. There will always be a special place in my little, jaded heart for A Manheim Steamroller Christmas.

S: a, I would hope that everyone makes a little room in their heart for The Steamroller.

(Song changes to something awful by Michael Bolton)

a: Ahem. This no talent a## clown on the other hand……

S: Oh come on….

a: No way. G can have him.

(At the office Christmas party, I picked out a signed headshot of  Michael Bolton – with two Subway gift cards attached – in the White Elephant exchange, which was immediately stolen from me by a coworker)

S: Do I sense some bitterness?

(Long Pause….)

a: It hurts.

S: But it’s Christmas. Now’s the time to find it in your heart to forgive him.

a: Yeah, I know. These things just take time to heal.

THE END

Animals? Lights? Animals AND Lights?!?! December 19, 2008

Things We Learned From This Year’s Wildlights (our local zoo’s annual light display) Experience:

1) Wildlights = Good (but EFFING FREEZING) Times

2) I heart manatees. (And, apparently,  faux, light-up flamingos as well.)

3) Animals do not heart the cold. (Most were asleep in their indoor shelters, so – more lights than animals.)

4) Tights, cords, thick socks, fur-lined snow boots, t-shirt, sweater, fleece, fur-collared coat, hat and gloves = still not enough clothing for 2 hours of Wildlights.

5) There is a reptile called a skink. J hearts skinks.

6) Definitely something to do on an off night. I heard the lines for this thing on the weekends had reached up to two-hour waits. (Oh HELL no – I don’t wait two hours for much of anything). We went on a chilly, weekday evening and had the run of the place. In fact, there were plenty of moments when we found ourselves completely. alone. (muah-ah-ah…)

7) The hot chocolate is at THE FRONT OF THE PARK. (Halfway through our tour of the zoo, we were jonesing badly for something toasty to drink; little did we know we’d passed the hot cocoa when we went left instead of right at the entrance. Granted, its discovery at the tail end of our trip made for a grand finale. Drinking hot chocolate with REAL whipped cream by a fire whilst watching the animated light show around the pond = priceless.)

** I hereby solemnly swear, from this moment to eternity, to never again use the word “heart” as a verb.**

~a

Raindrops on Mondays and Charming Stray Kittens December 15, 2008

Question for you on this dreary Monday morning (an adequate barometric representation of my feelings this morning, coming down from a festive weekend of holiday revelry): What has become of the once-ubiquitous Theme Party? If you ask me, we don’t hold or attend them nearly enough. Seems to me every gathering can benefit from a little labeling and a clever dress code.

Case in point: Saturday evening was our friend’s now-annual “Christmas Luxury” party – which sounds swank and stuffy, unless you know that we’re a group of late-twenty somethings living somewhat Bohemian lives that, while exciting and satisfying, are not what one might call “luxurious.” So it was essentially a bunch of people satirizing the upper classes, playing flip-cup and random improvisational games and singing carols (and the Christmas Luxury Theme Song – yes, there’s even a theme song) in fur stoles and bow ties and really bad Christmas sweaters and the occasional silk pajamas.

The results: A girl who normally can’t keep her heavy eyelids afloat beyond midnight found herself grabbing breakfast at 4am (Eggs! This place has THE BEST post-party grub on Earth. ON EARTH!) and not falling into bed until 5. Needless to say, good times were had. So – any of you planning a holiday or New Year’s Eve feast…. Tag on a theme, sit back and see how effortlessly the fun just happens. You couldn’t stop it if you tried. (A word to the wise, however – should, at one of this parties, a jubilant South African offer you a Springbok, be clear on this point: He is not hooking you up with his handsome, professional rugby-playing cousin, but instead a creamy, green and gold shot that tastes startlingly like Mylanta and has something of the opposite effect.)

Also this weekend: My roommate had her singing, dancing holiday extravaganza and it was insane. We showed up a little late after checking out a play, and the bar was standing room only. But it was lively and goofy, and we danced under misteltoe and cheered her on and had a grand time, all said.

OH – and one more notable piece of news…. that cute little guy who’s made himself at home in J’s house (see below)? He’s missing some pretty important bits and pieces. Seems J didn’t look very closely in his initial examination (can you blame him, really?).

That’s right. Our little guy is a girl.

Sophie, to be exact.

(And once you’ve named them, there’s no turning back.)

~a

(Below: The hangers-on at Christmas Luxury ((at this point, we’d lost a few, and people had dumped their costumes, but you get the idea)))

Trading Up December 8, 2008

Today, I post with a purpose, mes amis: to sing the praises of my favorite jungle of healthy sustenance, Trader Joe’s.

First, for those of you who do not live in one of the 23 states graced with these bastions of affordable organic wonders, allow me to paint a picture. Trader Joes’ (Trader Joe’ses??) are fashioned to appear as massive trade ships of exotic culinary treasures. Although relatively small compared to Whole Foods, Joe’s is packed with hard-to-find products, unusual produce and a staff that doesn’t look at you like you’re from another planet if you don’t smell like patchouli, make your own clothes and/or wear your hair in dreadlocks. Joe’s also has its own store brand that, in general, is EXTREMELY affordable (read: dirt cheap) and boast no artificial colors or flavorings.

For anyone who thinks they can’t afford such luxuries as organic or whole foods, you should know that on the whole, Trader Joe’s is even more affordable than my neighborhood grocery store (the only drawback being their size and specialty means I have to make a second trip to the regular store for certain items). Ok, I lied. There is a second drawback, and that is that there are only TWO Trader Joe’s in my city.

Seriously? You guys are always packed every time I take the trip out there; people love you; we would certainly love you even more if you were closer to home. (Pst…just by the way, Trader Joe’s, there is a really great furniture store that closed down and would make an exquisite location for something in the way of, say… a health food store?? Just a thought).

Perhaps, however, it’s not so bad that these stores require a mini-voyage. It makes the experience feel special, rather than mundane errand-running, and I definitely give myself the extra time to explore. (As a person with a wheat sensitivity, Joe’s has become a treasure hunt, with new gluten/wheat-free products showing up on every return visit: bagels, waffles, pumpkin bread, gnocchi… brownies!!) And, should you need any other reason to make the trip yourself, I have two:

1) A CNN study just rated Trader Joe’s fourth among “healthy” national grocery store chains (see full story here: http://www.cnn.com/2008/HEALTH/diet.fitness/11/11/Healthmag.healthiest.grocery.stores/

2) A recent Facebook status thread reveals the secret behind Joe’s popularity with the female demographic:

So, there you have it. Set aside an afternoon or even a Friday night (the store stays open ’til 10pm), and go explore the mounds of wild produce or foggy freezer aisles (and perhaps grab a bottle of well-priced organic wine, or experiment with a six-pack of an unknown import).

Enough with the plugs, though. Two and a half weeks until Christmas break (the company I work for gives us a mandatory 11 days off – we couldn’t come to work even if we wanted to – which we don’t, but still, a nice gesture). I’ll be out to my parents place for a few days, then down to North Carolina for New Year’s with J. Can’t wait to have the whole family together for Christmas, though. The Evil Twin will be coming up for the occasion, and little Bro will inevitably hitch a ride with me out to my parent’s place. The Gabe monster will get to go, too, and everything will be as it should be for a few days. And I feel lucky to say (because I’ve heard many a dysfunctional family holiday story from friends and coworkers) that this, for me, is what Christmas is about.

The only possible tiff I can see is that I bought the Evil Twin a present that I , myself, covet dearly, and I may, out of desperation, be forced to hide her gift (after she opens it of course), so that she will “accidentally” leave it behind, at which point I will have to make use of it until she returns so that it does not go to waste in the meantime.

(Kidding, of course! I would never!)

(Or would I?)

(Muah ah ah…).

~a

Highjinks at HighBall November 6, 2008

Well. Apologies for the wait, first off, but I’ve been in recovery since Sunday, and I feel like I may finally be rousing from my sugar/post-weekend coma. So it’s time for a tale….

Friday would not end – the work that is. Not to say there was much to do. That may, in fact, have contributed to the never-ending nature of the afternoon. I sat at my laptop counting down the minutes until the evening was mine. A bit of an Indian Summer had arrived the night before, and I itched to feel air on my skin again after the couple week’s winter preview we’d been having.

At 5 (not a minute sooner or later) I was off, racing home to transform myself for the festivities ahead. Our plan for the night: the City’s latest attempt (a brilliant one, for once!) to become the hip, youthful, vibrant metropolis we claim to be…. The Halloween HighBall.

The original plan, costume-wise, was to go as a Smelly Pirate Hooker (referencing Anchorman, not condoning unhygienic promiscuous plundering) with J going as the Dread Pirate Roberts from The Princess Bride. As plans typically do, however, this one fell through when J’s boss kept him late and he arrived home only to find he no longer had the costume pieces around the house that he needed. SO – Plan B: we’d dress him as a castaway and I’d tie him up and drag him around as my prisoner.

Yes. Well. I liked the idea anyway

Without further ado, off we went, me dressed in Jolly Roger glory, J looking a bit more Matthew McConaughey than Tom Hanks, but whatever.

When we arrived on High Street, the party was in full swing. The building faces swam with colored light projections, the street itself teeming with schools of masquerade masks, painted faces, plunging necklines and micro-skirts.

We arrived just in time to catch the costume contest, hosted, as one would expect, by a bawdy drag queen who managed a clever quip for nearly every entrant. Winners included a group dressed as the cereal characters of our childhood (Tony the Tiger, Count Chocula, Frankenberry, etc.), several girls portraying a male mariachi band (dubbed “Nasty Sanchez” by our emcee) and an enormous sock puppet monkey.

Anyway, I’ll let the photos speak (mostly) for themselves. In this case, I think they say it best. HighBall was a hit (granted, thanks largely to the amazing and unusual weather – I worry what will become of this event if it’s too cold or damp next year), and I think everyone who was there with me is already plotting ways to make a greater statement next year. I know I’m going to aim for the stage, myself Nights like this make me wonder why people don’t think more highly of this town. Look what we’re capable of! Your young and hip are desirous of such things! If you build it, we will come. And we did….. in droves. Let this be an example to those who have the resources to put together events like HighBall, and to those who think our city is too stuffy to ever support such artsy vibrance.

~a

VOTEVOTEVOTEVOTE November 4, 2008

For those of you filling out ballots by hand....

Right, so I think you may have an inkling what I’m getting at here. From what I hear already, the numbers are staggering – the percentage of registered voters ACTUALLY VOTING is blowing all previous presidential elections to the wall, and, for the first time in a while, I suddenly feel proud to be an American. I know our country is capable of amazing things…. but I feel like, as a whole, we’ve been sitting at home in our La-Z-Boy with a bowl of EZ Mac watching reruns of The Price Is Right because we can’t reach the remote.

Know what I mean?

So it warms my sarcastic, jaded little heart to hear that we are exercising our rights en masse.

I love you guys. (tear!)

No, but seriously, thank you. And let’s make this more than a ripple in the pond, shall we? Let’s make this the beginning of a veritable tsunami of involvement and action among the citizens of our country, yes?

And, while I’m at it, I’d like to mention that I’ve had not one, but three separate conversation regarding the United States’ Election Day traditions. Can anyone tell me WHY THE EFF this isn’t a NATIONAL HOLIDAY??? The early voting turnouts alone should tell us that if we give people the time they need, they will vote. Why shouldn’t we make it as easy as humanly possible? Our government talks a good deal about the importance of the democratic process…. I say we get some legislation rolling on this, shall we?

Just waiting on a few more pics from the weekend, and then I’ll post the Halloween entry (should be tonight or tomorrow).

Everyone have a great night.

Tomorrow, history will be made.

~a