This month our sweet Daisy turns 18 years old. You wouldn't know it. She looks and acts like she always has. She's weird. Cats are weird, but Daisy is REAL weird. In the nearly 13 years that we have lived in this house she has been out of the bedroom maybe, maybe three times. Maybe. I know, you're thinking "Of course she doesn't leave the room! There is a gang of dogs out there waiting to pounce!" But that's not it, I swear! One: she was like this when Tom and I had a little house in Austin and no dogs. The difference: she lived in the guest bedroom there. Two: at night she lays on the bed with the dogs, even rubs up against them. Weird. Also weird, she won't drink out of a water bowl. She has a glass on the dresser and if it's gets even slightly low she sits and screams until we fill it. And even if her water glass is full she would still prefer to drink out of the water I bring to bed at night. We go through the same routine every. single. night. She hears me set my glass down and she comes running, jumps on the bed, leans onto the night stand, and sticks her paw right into my glass. eww. She's a character and we adore her.
My brain has been going a million miles an hour since Friday night. Well, maybe since the Saturday before. I thought this was all just about me getting to see my hero, but it's turned into this whole thought process on "what the hell is going on?" Let me recap:
This picture was right before we left the house for the show and I was giddy with excitement and nerves and anxiety. I've probably had a similar look since last Saturday when I found out that Bob Geldof was playing SXSW. I flipped out in the biggest way. He is my hero. But I'll get to all that in a minute. I began this frenzied, panicked attempt to ensure that I would get to see him. I mean, it's Bob freakin' Geldof, I couldn't just see where he was playing and plan to waltz up to the door. I needed a game plan. Tom started emailing the organizers of the event. I even hit up my friend who is a well known musician and has connections. I never hit her up for tickets, I just don't like to, but this was different. But here's the thing I haven't mentioned. The show was FREE, first-come-first-served. After begging my friend to get me in to this show she texted me back to tell me that her manager probably can't do better than "free." My point in telling all of this is to explain how desperate I was to ensure I got into this show. He was to play at 6:15 so I planned to get there at around noon. Hopefully that would do it. Another part of my plan: don't tell a soul that this was happening. I didn't want any more competition. Tom started to post it on Facebook before the shrill "Nooooooooo!" escaped my lips.
So, here's how the day DID go down. We arrived at Jovitas - did I mention that the show was at a fairly small mexican food restaurant? Anyway, we arrived at 11:45 to an empty parking lot, empty restaurant. All I was thinking was, okay, I can breathe. I'm in. What happened between now and 7:45 when he actually went on was a large amount of drama over whether this was even going to happen due to some code violations regarding the makeshift parking lot stage, the restaurant, exit plans, and more. But that did all work itself out while Tom eavesdropped and I tried to hold my shit together. But regardless of that, where were the people? No one was really showing up. I did find out that there was a small bit in the paper about the show being cancelled due to all these violations, but it was small, and who reads the paper? Was it that? Was it the apparent crappy event organizer (I had it on good authority that he was an idiot)? Or was it that now, in 2011, no one knows who he is? I've been thinking about that so much the last two days. How can this man who I have adored and admired and been inspired by for 25 years be non existant to this generation? HOW, how can that be?
The show was indescribable. It was everything. I know there was a real chance of disappointment. When you love someone for that long you run the real risk of being let down. But I wasn't. If anything it made me love him more. He sounded amazing, the band was incredible, he was passionate - he was even passionate while sining "I Don't Like Mondays." I always feel sad for bands/singers who have to sing that one song that they are known for over and over. But he sang it like it was the first time. It was gut wrenchingly beautiful. So the good thing about finding out that no one knows who your hero is anymore, is that you get a front row seat. I was literally leaning on the stage. My hands were inches from his feet. It was the best possible experience I could have had seeing him. When I was 13-14 years old I discovered Bob Geldof. It was around that time that the whole Band Aid thing happened and then Live Aid. Here was this man who saw one of those starving-children-in-Africa commercials over dinner and decided to actually do something. In his words "I refused to watch one more child die in my living room." I was 14, I was easily influenced and impressionable and he made an impression that stuck. I followed his career, bought his music, read his book, felt sad for his personal drama, dreamed of seeing him but never ever thought I would. Back in 2005 I was in Canada while Live 8 was going on. We were on the opposite side of the Canada show and I still thought I was as close to Bob as I would ever be. And now I've seen him. I am left with the warm fuzzies of it all, but also with the shock that there were probably less than 200 people at this show and I guarantee that a good part of those had no idea who he was. How does the lead singer of the Boomtown Rats, the founder of Band Aid, writer of "Do They Know it's Christmas", the organizer of Live Aid, and then Live 8, the man knighted by the Queen become forgotten? And in this tabloid obsessed nation there's the over-the-top drama of his personal life surrounding his ex Paula Yates and Michael Hutchence. Which brings up my added admiration of him for fighting to gain custody of his ex wife's love child with Hutchence so that she could grow up with her half sisters. But I digress. How has he disappeared from our minds? It makes me so, so very sad.
So people, do me a favor. #1. Play good music for your kids. Shoot, just have music on in the house. Turn off the tv and turn on the stereo. #2. go buy "How to Compose Popular Songs that Will Sell". It's Bob's new CD and it is wonderfully romantic. "Dazzled by You" is painfully beautiful. #3. Grab your computer and watch some old Live Aid clips (here, here, or here), watch the Band Aid video - it was such an incredible moment in time, both musically and as a socially conscience people and then consider that this all happened because of this man. #4 check out this little interview with Bob from just a few days ago during SXSW. I think it's a pretty good snippet into who he is.
It's taken me two days to write this post. I felt this huge weight to "get it right" and say it in a way that didn't sound like some star struck teenager. I don't get star struck. I've been lucky enough to get to see some great artists over the years but I'm never like the nutty Beatles fan screaming like a banshee. So I really hope this doesn't come off that way. More than anything I don't want this profound life to be lost in the hustle and bustle of it all.
"If you don't set out to make your own future
If you don't set out to create your own world
Then you're just there at the behest of everyone else
Just being whacked around in the flotsam and jetsam of history"
It's been an utterly nutty few weeks. Shortly after my bout with the flu I got strep throat with a virus chaser. I feel like I have spent the majority of 2011 either sick or getting over being sick. I am done. I am just now getting back to normal and I never knew normal felt so good! I even went to get my hair cut and colored (thank you Lisa!) and it felt like my own mini version of Spring!
Anyways, I have a question for everyone. Do any of you have a "People I want to see before I die" list? Like musicians? 'Cause I have a had a list like that for years and have been slowly chipping away at it. Well, I am down to one person on my list. And he was probably the one I would most want to see of my whole list, but also the most inaccessible. He rarely plays, certainly never in the states. I just resigned myself to it not happening. WELL. He is here in Austin for SXSW. The thing about South by is that it's new bands mainly. It's not like your big week end festivals that are cram packed with big name bands. This is a week of getting to see new, up-and-coming music, a chance to say "I saw them when" kind of thing, a way to discover and be discovered. So it's not the place to cross names off of your "before I die" list. And the way I found out that this person (who I have loved since I was 14) would be at South by was totally random, happenstance. Just last Saturday I heard one of his songs playing behind a commercial for an upcoming episode of a tv show. I said to Tom, "I don't know that song. He doesn't have anything new out does he?" Tom says, "I don't know, let me look" and he pulls up the computer and a couple of minutes later says, "He is going to be playing here on Friday" to which I said "Shut Up, you're lying" to which he said, "Seriously, he's playing South by". It was surreal. Like if I hadn't seen that commercial I might not have know he was in town and I would have heard later "Did you see so-n-so when he was here?" and I would have said "NO!, I didn't know he was here!" and I would have fallen over and died. Anyway, I did find out and he is playing tomorrow and I am getting there like six hours early just in case. And no, I am not telling you who it is until it's over because I am being ridiculously superstitious and I don't want to jinx anything. I'm still scared it's not real. I know I sound like a complete nut job. I really am not normally like this. I don't get all worked up about famous people at all. But like I said, I have loved this man, his music, for 25 years. When it's all said and done I will happily report back and if I am really lucky I will have photos.
So my loooooong story was leading to this: who is on your "before I die" list? I would love to know who other people hold dear, musically speaking. Share your list with me and I will throw your names in a hat and send you a surprise bit of jewelry. How's that for fun?? Don't forget to add your email address so I can let you know if you won. Have fun.
This is my post office. Awesome, huh? I'm not a big fan of change, can't stand it in fact. I usually don't think that newer is better - every time "they" update my email or Facebook I mourn the old version. That's how I feel about my post office. This precious little building is actually a genuine, real-deal general store. It's in the town of McNeil Texas, population zero. The only thing in McNeil is this building and a plant where they excavate white lime. The store primarily serves the employees of the white lime plant. The employees even carry lines of credit! I'm telling you, it's the real-deal. The post office is just a tiny corner of the store with just one post-person. It even has the old brass post office boxes. The one employee loves her job there so we are never met with the surly post office employee, but a cheerful face who knows our names, asks about the family, the whole nine. It's like Cheers in a post office. "They" recently threatened to close the place down but after an uproar from the patrons of this little throw-back the word on the street is we get to keep our little gem. Whew! A brand-spankin'-new post office might do me in!
...to this brownstone on West 11th. Is that too specific? When Tom and I do our unrealistic dreaming of owning a place in the city it is always, always in the West Village. And truthfully I am even more picky than that, I want to be between 8th and Greenwich Ave. and between Horatio and Perry. It's a tiny pocket but I loooooove it so much. Anyway, I saw this place on our last trip so when I dream this is what I see in my imagination. Isn't it the cutest!?!? I guess it's not a typical brownstone with the wide steps up the front, but it'll do in a pinch!
The last couple of weeks have been off. I had a mean case of the flu which always messes me up for a good long while. I am a dreadful sick person. I am whiney and needy - I know, two qualities everyone loves! But this particular flu came with an extra helping of emotional ickies. There is the typical flu with the sore throat, head, body aches, nausea - but I swear this strain was accompanied by a heaping dose of depression. I would think it was just me but I had two friends that experienced the same thing! Weird, I know. But major bleck!
So, I have gotten behind on everything, blogging being fairly low on my urgency list. But at the same time I am missing it so I have a quick list of topics that have been running through my head that may or may not become full fledged posts in the near future...probably mostly NOT since they were conceived by a bogged down flu brain.
how do you begin to catch up on 430 emails?
the flu sucks.
how do my dogs know when I am sick and there fore wake up a half hour early?
my husband deserves a medal for putting up with me
On a completely unrelated note, go see The King's Speech. Tom and I went on my first day of beginning to feel normal again and it was soooooooo good! Go see it.
oh, and the photo has nothing to do with this post. It's just that my dogs are adorable and I can't help it.
It's official, I received my first really negative comment on my blog. My first instinct was to delete it. But then I thought, you know, I put it out there, I post personal stuff and people are bound to have their opinions. I can't really get mad about it and if I do maybe I shouldn't have this blog. Sometimes I read negative comments on other people's blogs and think "wow, that person was ballsy to say that", but think it goes with the territory of having a blog. But, with that said, just because I have a blog, just because anyone has a blog, does that give people the right to be super judgmental based on a relatively small amount of information?
OMG - you treated yourself to a vacation and left all those poor dogs at home to fend for themselves with your "assistant" only dropping in instead of having someone live with the dogs. How could you leave the Great Dane that is recovering from cancer. Shameful. I'm glad there are good dog owners around who care enough about their pets to sacrifice vacations to spend with their pets. Wow. I cried when I read about him on the floor unable to get up. He must have been so scared until he was found.
It kind of bugs me that I want to defend myself. I wish I was the type who could blow it off, think "this person doesn't know me", but I can't. So here goes. Yes, we went out of town and stayed with a friend's dog while she was on vacation. What I didn't put in my blog was how much I agonized over leaving, should we go, should we not. Will Preacher be okay? Is he too old for us to travel? I AGONIZED! In order to be okay with leaving town I had to have a plan. I knew by being in New York I had access to a flight home at nearly any time of day. That was comforting. I didn't hire a pet sitter who would come in for 30 minutes three times a day...it had to be people who the dogs know and are familiar with. There was a strict schedule of people in and out of the house, morning, noon, and night, so the dogs would not have to be alone for more that three hours at a time. I didn't mention all of this because truthfully, most people think I am nuts about how overboard I go with my dogs. But since it did come up, did you know...
that I call my vet to personally let him know that we are out of town and to make sure they have alternate phone numbers for emergencies? that my parents live a little over a mile from me and come over several times a day? that my mom came over and stayed for hours on her days off and worked in my studio so the dogs could hang out like any normal day? that Brittany (my assistant) sat in the middle of the bed with the dogs while doing her homework and watching the Food Network in between her classes each day? that my mom and dad watched American Idol with the dogs while having a a glass of wine? that my dad made videos of the dogs cuddled up in my mom's lap and videos of Preacher walking around the house? that I have my vet's personal cell phone number and I called him from New York to make sure everything was being done for Preacher? that I had two extra people on call in case anything went wrong? that I have a notebook with a photo of each dog, where they eat, sleep, their likes, dislikes, medications, nick names, etc?
I don't put all of that stuff in my blog because it's boring, it makes for the longest blog post ever, and it makes me sound like a nut!
I said the dogs had a rough week, I did say that. And I suppose it was rough compared to me being at home with them everyday, but they by no means were deprived or left to fend for themselves.
The fact that Preacher fell while we were gone was awful. Tom and I were sick with worry and both cried, stressed, vacillated between leaving and staying from minute to minute. As I type this I am more annoyed with myself than when I started. I shouldn't let this get to me. I think the only reason that it does is because my dogs are my life. You could insult just about anything about me, but insinuating that I am a bad dog parent is something I can't brush off.
I guess my point is this, think before you write. Do you really know enough about someone from a blog post to judge them?
We're home. It was a rough week on the poor dogs. Pasqual might not have had a relaxed moment the entire time we were gone. But as you can see he has made himself comfortable with his head on the pillow making up for a weeks worth of stress. I love the look on Daisy's face. I'm not sure she could look more annoyed. I think at 17 1/2 years old she thinks she's earned the right to not share the pillows.
It actually was a rough week for them. Only a couple of days after we'd left Preacher slipped getting off the couch. When Brittany (my assistant) got here to let them out he was on the ground and couldn't get up. After trying for over half an hour to get him off the floor she called us. Of course I went into a panic and started thinking one, if not both, of us would have to fly home immediately. But my wonderful parents saved the day. My dad came over and hoisted Preacher off the floor. And after a couple of days of some pain meds and pampering he was pretty much back to normal. By the time we got home he was completely normal. But my poor parents need a vacation! As my mom said, "your dogs are too old and I am too old!" I think we might have used up our dog sitting favors for a good long while. New York, it looks like it's gonna be awhile before I see you again. Of course, I guess I could always leave Tom with the dogs! :)
Just yesterday morning the snow that blanketed the city when we arrived was melting away, but around 8am it began to fall again. It snowed for a good three hours and left 3 or 4 inches on the ground. Tom and I set out for lunch and made a pit stop in Washington Square Park, which is just about two blocks from where we are staying. It was so lovely, everything sparkled, the trees looked like some kind of Dr. Seuss - Ansel Adams combo. I promptly fell straight back into the snow flapping my arms and legs to make the first snow angel I've made in probably 30 years!
After an afternoon tromping around the West Village we headed home...and then the snow started to fall again. and it snowed, and it snowed, and it snowed. Since Tom has never seen any significant snow fall we decided to get out in it... ...this is after about 15 minutes in the snow... ...and this is after about a half an hour in the snow. I know I look like I have been rolling around in it, but this is just what fell on me!! It was nutty! The city was dead quiet, the streets were empty, it was bizarre. This is the city that never sleeps, you can never go anywhere at anytime without seeing people in every direction. But there it was, quiet and stark white. It was stunning.
We went back out to Washington Square Park which was apparently the destination for all of the NYU students. They were having massive snow ball fights, building snow men - and did I mention that this was all at about 1:30 in the morning?!? It was pure, magical fun. I felt like I was eight years old. We ran through it, hopped into the tallest dunes, climbed on the play scape, and threw our own snowballs.
It continued to snow until around 6 or 7am. When the final count was in it had snowed twice what had been predicted. Apparently it was the 9th worst storm in NYC history! Mayor Bloomberg declared it an official snow day and school was canceled. Tom and I headed for Central Park knowing it would be a sight to see. The kids were out in force and the majority were on Pilgram Hill sledding. It was so precious, and so, so different from a childhood in Texas. I took this photo a little further into Central Park. As we rounded the corner to this view you could also hear someone playing a saxophone deep into the park. Did I already use the word magical? Only in New York.
It snowed today for about 3 hours. It was lovely. It's supposed to snow again tomorrow night, in the words of the NY1 weather man, "we should receive 6 inches of heavy, wet snow." Yippee!! And you can see by the above photo that we hurried out to get the appropriate rations!
Yes. It's true. We got to see Martha. We were in the same room with Martha. I am not typically the star struck type at all. But seriously, it's Martha freakin' Stewart!! It was kind of surreal. We had to be at the studio at 8:30am. When we left the apartment at around 7:50 it was six, yes 6, degrees outside! But when we rounded the corner after getting off the train and I saw her name on the building I started getting giddy with excitement!! This is my dorky-ness as we stood in line outside of the studio. Once we were inside the entire experience was so worth braving the cold!! The holding room was lovely, the wait was long but I didn't care, I was too excited. There was a funny warm up guy - if you watch the show you know who Joey is and he is more hilarious in person. They don't have a very large studio audience so we were very close to all the action.
I've got to back up a bit and explain the getting-on-the-show process. Tom applied for me and we heard back after about a week that we got the green light. When we accepted we received the "instructions". There was a pretty serious and lengthy dress code: a short list of dos: bright colors preferred, Martha likes a cheerful looking audience; and a loooong list of don'ts: don't wear black or gray, don't wear t-shirts, don't wear any patterns or prints, and more. Tom and I followed the directions to the T, I did not want to get kicked out of Martha for God's sake! The studio was SO impressive. It was quite large, bigger than it seems on tv, unlike Letterman which was like a postage stamp in reality! She had a kitchen space, a craft space, and a gardening space, in addition to a HUGE test kitchen where several people were working like little elves throughout the show. There are about a bajillion lights and a bajillion and one people scurrying around the set the whole time. During the commercial people descend on Martha like ants on a dropped bit of sugar cookie! She gets lint rolled, lip glossed, hair placed, and powder puffed! And then they disappear only to swoop back in during the next break. It's nutty. I'm not sure how any lint happened to land on her while she sat discussing a Cleopatra biography with the author, but she gets the lint roller any way. It's crazy fascinating!! So, here we are in our Martha approved ensemble. Tom sporting lovely lime green wool sweater and me in a peony pink cardy and hat (that I made!!!). It really was very fun. If you are a Martha fan I highly recommend visiting the crafty, culinary queen if you are ever in the city.
We just wrapped up our first full day back in the city and I am pooped. I am headed to bed but thought I'd share a couple of photos of the goings on... This first photo is the view from the apartment we are staying in - Thank You Julie! It's pretty fantastic, yeh? We are dog sitting for a former foster dog, which is utterly cool and I'll post more on that soon. Here's Finnegan, said dog that we are sitting for. He is beyond precious and is making this trip even more fun. And he is a trooper for sweaters and peeing in the snow! Chilequilies for brunch at Bobby Flay's restaurant, Mesa Grill. Ummm, Yum! And they came with a side of grits that were the best grits I've ever had. It was crazy good. Okay, this was so cool - we were walking through the Union Square Green Market, which is mostly food and is always one of my very favorite things to do in the city. It's always one of our first stops and we go back several times each trip - but this was the fist time I have seen this vendor. I wish I could remember the name and I'd give them a little plug here...but it's a sheep farm and they sell everything from the meat to the wool to hats made from the wool. It was really cool. Needless to say I bought some yarn! And last, Tom with all the snow in Union Square Park, my favorite park in the city. There is about four inches or so of snow on the ground. It fell the night before we arrived so it's still here and still beautiful. Everything just glistens. It even looks pretty on the trash bags on the curb...although on our walk tonight Finnegan turned some of it yellow. Oops!
We're off to Manhattan in just a couple of days. I know, it seems like we were just there. I wonder if we'll ever travel any place else again...in my dreams we'll have an apartment there one day...one day... So! Who can tell me how in the hell to stay warm when it's 10 degrees outside? I'm thinking my Chia hat will be in order. Layers, layers, layers. Any advice?
He's 12. He's slow. He barks a lot. That's my big update! :) No really, I just don't have a lot of new info but I know people want to know how the big guy is doing. He's funny - for 10 years we barely heard a peep out of him and now it's like he has found his voice. I think we have finally figured out that it usually means he wants food. Which is fine by me - my thinking is if he is eating he must feel okay. Right? But it's hilarious because being deaf he kinda has a deaf sounding bark, it's more of a honk than a bark...so there I am, sound asleep in bed, 7am, and it sounds like there is a goose in my living room. Tom took him to the vet a couple of weeks ago for a check up and it was pretty much status quo. He has a very weak back end, sometimes has a hard time getting up and down, so the vet suggested short walks to keep up that muscle memory. So I took him out front with me just to check the mail. I thought, I don't need a leash, what's he gonna do, run off? Well, that little stinker went out the front door like his heels were on fire! And when I got my hands on his collar he steered me off around the corner like we were going for a big ole walk. Well, at midnight and 32 degrees and misting I was not quite prepared. A few days ago when he was having kind of an off day I decided to google "longest living Great Dane". Turns out it's 16 years. The website said that eight years is average but that once in a blue moon they may live to be 12. You know that I know we are lucky, but that really struck me. 12 years old, nearly 19 months past a cancer diagnosis - it's crazy. so I will thank you all again for all of the good thoughts that you send his way all the time. I know, I really, really know that it helps. He is one lucky, lucky boy.
This month our sweet Daisy turns 18 years old. You wouldn't know it. She looks and acts like she always has. She's weird. Cats are weird, but Daisy is REAL weird. In the nearly 13 years that we have lived in this house she has been out of the bedroom maybe, maybe three times. Maybe. I know, you're thinking "Of course she doesn't leave the room! There is a gang of dogs out there waiting to pounce!" But that's not it, I swear! One: she was like this when Tom and I had a little house in Austin and no dogs. The difference: she lived in the guest bedroom there. Two: at night she lays on the bed with the dogs, even rubs up against them. Weird. Also weird, she won't drink out of a water bowl. She has a glass on the dresser and if it's gets even slightly low she sits and screams until we fill it. And even if her water glass is full she would still prefer to drink out of the water I bring to bed at night. We go through the same routine every. single. night. She hears me set my glass down and she comes running, jumps on the bed, leans onto the night stand, and sticks her paw right into my glass. eww. She's a character and we adore her.
Posts
