Festival Folk

Emerging from the woods after a weekend long camping excursion can be a truly gratifying experience. Unplugging from all forms of electronic devices and taking in all that nature has to offer proves to be an eye opening practice. After venturing to the music festival known as Shakori Hills last weekend, I will say that while the wonderful sounds and smell of nature were quite enjoyable, there is something to be said for the visual side of things. Let’s begin with the basics, at any given music festival it is pretty well understood that you will run into a few certain kinds of folks. To start, there are the avid campers who come fully loaded with every Coleman and various REI product known to man. There are the semi-serious nature enthusiasts who really like to get out there but are also fine enjoying the comforts of indoor life. Scattered amongst the crowd you will find a spectrum of ages and races but I personally find the most interesting group to be the hippies. Yes, I know that the term hippie can be rather broad and cover a lot of various aspects of nature-loving people but the particular clan I am referring to seem to be in a league of their own. Take for example last Saturday afternoon- I am sitting by the camp site enjoying a nice meal when this barefoot and somewhat confused individual comes meandering along. Not really seeming to notice us sitting there, or the dozens of other campsites for that matter, this young man approaches and starts to pet a nearby tree. This continues for about five awkward minutes until he suddenly seems to have gained all necessary non-verbal communication and wanders off to another grassy area. To be honest, this was not extremely unusual considering the above disclaimer revolving around festivals but it still rather amusing. This same man showed up again about thirty minutes later with what appeared to be a large boulder in his arms and proceeded to do some sort of squat-prayer routine which I would imagine is unaffiliated with any sort of organized practice. Needless to say, musical gatherings tend to bring a rather eclectic crowd and provide almost as much entertainment and yes, joy as the performers themselves.

Commercial Presentation

While I have gotten used to paying an exorbitant amount to see a movie in theatres, there is part of me that will never truly accept the amount of commercial bombardment that goes along with it. After paying four dollars for candy and selling one’s soul for a jumbo soda is it really necessary that a moviegoer sit through an advertisement for the latest spinning toothbrush? I am pretty sure that dental hygiene falls low on the list of interest when someone steps into the movie theatre. Furthermore, if I have to see that clip about Rosa Salazar and her Facebook friends one more time I might just boycott social networking sites all together. The bottom line is, I venture to the theatres to enjoy the MOVIE, not to feel like a captured case study for the world’s worst commercials. Many of us can remember a simpler time when the safety announcements for the nearest exit were the only thing between the viewer and the start to the much anticipated previews. Then came the rather obvious no smoking messages and reminders to silence your cell phones, pagers and noise making devices. The rest is just a downhill slope into a world of commercial overload. It seems we should all just do ourselves a favor and take the movie show times as strictly suggestions and arrive a good twenty minutes after the printed start time. Personally, I know that the desire to see a movie on the big screen will never fade so I’ll see you all out there- just don’t worry about making it on time!

The Life of Warren

Similar to growing older in people years, the lifespan of a car can be directly linked with its corresponding quirks. Take for example my ten year old car Warren. Named for the county in which this speedy Toyota Camry gained two tickets, this car is starting to show its age. First there was the trunk that mysteriously stopped opening and can now be accessed exclusively by the lever on driver’s side floor. Then came the check engine light that has a mind of its own and despite the investigation of several mechanics, has decided to add its own special glow to my dashboard on a permanent basis. Add in a door handle that snapped off in the dead of winter and you have a car that is in need of some assistance. Yes, I am lucky to have a automobile and one that performs so well however, there’s nothing like getting sketchy glances in a parking lot as you try to jimmy your way into your own vehicle’s door or trunk. This car was handed down to me by my father who as everyone in my family is well aware, keeps his cars in “excellent condition.” You will not find a shred of tissue or even a straw wrapper in his current car and while Warren may have encountered some growing pains since he was handed over to me, I will say that this knack for cleanliness was also passed down. Despite the mentioned battle wounds, I have been known to surprise people with the spotless interior of this vehicle. Yes this car may be ten years old but in some ways, he does not look a day over four. Lights and lock ups aside, Warren has been a reliable transport and I am hoping that the speedometer has many more ticks before this ride is retired. See you on the road- but please be advised that if you are driving behind me in Warren County – do not expect to cruise higher than five miles over the speed limit.

Guitar Dreaming

Since my Washburn and I have been involved in a steady relationship since 1994, the thought of throwing myself into guitar shopping seemed more then foreign. I am not quite sure why this thought did not occur sooner, but nonetheless- I have started guitar dreaming. Some magical passageway has been opened and I find myself suddenly thinking of new gadgets and wondering, I would like to know what this does. Actually practicing this instrument would be helpful as I do not wish to sound like one of those ridiculous Creed-bashing videos but still, the interest has returned. This inspired thinking reaches past my currently quiet experience with acoustic guitar playing. Thoughts of my electric guitar currently residing in Baltimore make me think of my early days of musical exploration. I was given a bright red Fender Strat for Christmas one year - complete with a practice amp, and to my delight- a whammy bar. For the weeks to come, the sounds being attempted in my room seemed to mimic those of a low budget 70’s film production. My parents, who also were the gift givers of this awesome piece of craftsmanship, were more than patient. It was interesting though how quickly a pair of huge headphones were placed on my bed as a subtle hint. Hey, you have to start somewhere even if that means playing Tuesday’s Gone like it was going out of style. May have missed the boat on that one but in my mind, I was ROCKING. In the years to come, I had a guitar teacher with obscenely long finger nails and I performed at our high school Friday night Coffee House. A few can recall noise complaints surrounding loud versions of select Weezer and Radiohead jams in college dorm rooms. The ice blackout freshman year was the perfect time for an impromptu serenade and my performance was greeted with loud noises against wall next door- obviously out of appreciation. I do realize that I need to break through the comfortable set of chords that I have regurgitated over the years and branch out into more challenging assignments but rest assured, I am always available for a spur of the moment crooning.

Never Ending Teeth

It is my belief that there are few things more frightening and fascinating than the adaptable creature known as the shark. Throughout history this beast of an animal has morphed and adjusted to fit the changing oceans without losing status as one of the most lethal killing machines out there. What other several ton organism has an endless supply of dagger sharp teeth? How about having a protective layer over your eyes in the rare but dangerous occurrence of having an attacker aim at them? Let’s not forget about the brute strength of the muscles comprising of a sharks dorsal fin alone. It is probably in everyone’s best interest that I now mention I took a severe liking to Shark Week. Mind you this was not the first airing, this was via Netflix but within several says I had gained enough knowledge to live and breathe shark. Growing up, I was obsessed with The Little Mermaid but still had nightmares about the creatures that lurked beneath the waters. I then made the foolish decision to watch the movie Open Water one night at a friend’s house in Asheville several years ago. Queue the flashbacks of a dull nausea every time an underwater movie or deep ocean scene came on TV. Always having an active imagination, I decided that rather than let my thoughts of fanged companions get the best of my summer swims, I would face this demon head on. Enter Shark Week. In several hours, I had overcome my intense fear of these underwater giants and had formed a somewhat strange appreciation and admiration for sharks. It was as if through understanding the way they functioned, they somehow seemed a LITTLE less terrifying. While I do intend on swimming some laps this summer and perhaps venturing to the beach, you will not find me darting around in reefs littered with caution signs. Have a nice swim everyone.

Friend Request Accepted

While on a trip to Atlanta this past weekend, a good friend made a silly but somewhat accurate statement: If it’s not on Facebook, it didn’t happen. Sure, this was said in jest in regards to the whole Facebook phenomenon where casual stalking turns into an everyday occurrence but where else can you find out about engagements, children, new jobs or even just random and probably useless facts about people you were once close to? That’s right, for those of you inclined to scroll through the various faces of your former stages of life, enter the Facebook postings. Just the other day I learned that a childhood pal had passed the BAR and that another acquaintance is allergic to peanuts and had to be rushed to the E.R. I could have picked up the phone or composed an email, but finding out these day to day activities of those you hold close – or as far away as possible- from your heart works best online. In fact, as a test of this theory- I am going to start a little experiment. If you are friends with me on various online sites and start seeing outrageous posts of swimming with sharks (my extreme terror regarding this subject will be discussed later) or a sudden urge to acquire body art, think twice. We will see just how many people believe that if it is on Facebook, it DID happen. Happy stalking!

Game On

While I once basked in the happy oblivion to anything related to organized sports during lunch, I will say that I have since reformed my opinion. Originally, spending my lunch hour getting super competitive around coworkers seemed like my personal idea of hell. I mean think of every stereotype of work associate you could find and mix in score keeping and a strong drive to win- no thank you. After laying low on the structured sports radar, I took the plunge last week during a game of ultimate frisbee. Interestingly enough, I have to say that my ideas were extremely skewed. My fears of having my office mates shoving my face in the mud for missing a catch were nonexistent. In fact, everyone involved in the game had nothing but positive things to say- at least when aimed towards this newcomer. Sure there was the occasional trash talk but it was usually in good fun and was seldom laced with four letter obscenities. No one broke into a fist fight in the middle of the field of swept someone with a tackle after the play was over. All in all, I enjoyed the abundance of high fives and the congratulatory commentary. While I do enjoy the solitude of my midday runs where I can churn over my own thoughts, I have to say that I will definitely be responding to the next email involving an ultimate game. Count me in!

Voices Only

For those unimpressed with groups capable of creating music without instruments, let me just ask- WHY? Sure I can see how some of you uneducated in the world of acappella singing may think only of old fashioned barber shop quartets and nerdy collegiate groups in monogrammed sweaters. I will let you in on a little secret- those ideas of this growing phenomenon are both outdated and incorrect. Sure, there are those stereotypical groups out there but there really is nothing uncool about being able to create music with simply voices. This sudden ranting over the world of acappella is prompted by an upcoming reunion with some fellow singers once involved in Elon’s Sweet Signatures. While there will probably be something musically driven thrown in the mix, there will certainly not be a shortage of entertainment. I mean what can you expect when twelve to sixteen girls hold practices three times a week and take their music on the road to other colleges around the area? These ladies know how to sing and how to entertain the idea of mischief along with the best of them. Impromptu beatbox sessions and freestyle sing-alongs? Check. The best part is, with the ability to arrange and perform these songs acappella, the show can really be put on when and wherever we choose. Whether we find ourselves amplified or simply rocking out in someone’s car, this weekend is sure to be a good time. But please, voices only.

Running Machine

Well friends, I am proud to announce that I participated in – and survived – my first 10K race! While I would be lying if I said that every minute of it looked like a scene out of the most esteemed runner’s magazine, I did run the whole way and avoided a dramatic meltdown upon crossing the finish line. I suppose in some ways I had an advantage since I ran this same course for the 5K I participated in this past November. That seemed fine and dandy at first until I forced myself to settle with the fact that I would be facing those same hills twice. Nothing like passing through the finish line for the 5K and getting geared up for another go. I will admit that on some of those inclines I found myself gazing longingly at passing cars wondering just how sketchy it would be if I asked the driver to covertly drop me at the next mile mark. I did not know anyone involved in this race so when we started out there were lots of conversations to help distract me from the run itself. As those folks who bolted out of the gates started falling back, the chatter began to die down and towards the end there were many people running alone. Personally, this is not something that bothers me and in many ways it is quite peaceful but man, running for over an hour really gives you some time to think. On downhill slopes I was thinking of happier times such as the BBQ I will be attending later today or the lovely weather. During those almost never-ending hills my thoughts did begin to shift. To make myself feel better about the task at hand, I thought back to some footage I had seen of marathon runners and some poor souls who had a hard time keeping it together. I then thought about a dramatic finish line moment involving a frantic collapse onto a few lucky bystanders. Throwing a large amount of drool in there never hurt. I will say that this was a positive experience and I did beat my set time, finishing at 1:06:10. Not too shabby. A friend of mine planted the seed of training for a half marathon this December but for today, it’s time to kick back and relax. Happy Saturday!

The Almost Pampered Chef

Let it be known that I give the utmost praise to the individual behind the concept of product parties because tonight not only marked my first encounter with The Pampered Chef, but it awoke my desire to become a cooking enthusiast. Apparently with the mention of food choppers, bamboo serving bowls and non-stick cookware, this evening displaced me into a magical alternate universe of entertaining. Forget the bags of chips and the half eaten jar of salsa - with the gorgeous catalog of Pampered Chef merchandise, I found myself flooded with visions of hosting parties where the appetizers were pastry based and there were special plates and utensils for each specific menu item. Is this a hidden love for domestication manifesting itself in the form of a credit card purchase for an egg slicer and a jar of asian spices? Perhaps my home cooking just needs a bit of a kick and this is the exact way to make the packed lunches and self prepared dinners a bit more manageable and exciting. Whatever prompted this sudden shift was definitely sparked by the pages of this previously mentioned - and very delightful - product magazine. I mean the concept really is flawless. With the gathering of friends in a safe and comfortable location, everyone is free to eat, drink and SPEND. It is almost as if in some cases, the purchases of others prompt you to keep adding items to your own list. Not to fear, no financial damage was done this evening but I have planted the seed for future spending. In the meantime, look for precisely chopped vegetables and meals whipped up in hopefully next to no time at all. Bon appétit!

Meat Free

Delicious, juicy hamburgers. Mouth watering chicken cutlets. Steak. Why on earth would a former meat eater want to give such delicacies up? I can tell you that while I appreciate other’s desires for such culinary delights, the intense fear of self-inflicted food poisoning combined with the lack of enthusiasm over meat dishes as a whole turned me vegetarian. Oh, that and the fact that one fateful afternoon I decided to watch a video on meat processing. So, that pretty much sums up why I stick to consuming creatures of the sea. This may seem confusing to some as yes, they are still considered animals but let me just say that while I loved the movie The Little Mermaid as a child, I have no qualms about eating flounder or a crustacean treat. This may seem like selective carnivorous behavior but I admit I am pretty set in my ways. I never liked meat enough to consume something I could snuggle with. Can you share a tender embrace with a piece of pre-sushi whitefish? Not exactly. While choosing to forgo the popular menu items of today’s world such as Big Macs has been a rather easy decision, it has not gone without some backlash. Take for example the pictures of raw meat that mysteriously appear around my work cubicle when I return from vacation. Or perhaps the endless jokes from my roommate about leaving hamburger meat “accidentally” on top of my vegetables and other perishables in the fridge. While yes, all harmless and in good fun, vegetarians of today must be equipped with a thick skin and the daily craving for greens. Let me also add that if anyone is ever looking for a companion for sushi by all means, count me IN.

The Colonial Life

Either through school trips, family vacations, or historical curiosity, a few of you may be familiar with the enchanting place known as Colonial Williamsburg. For a certain age bracket, this world can be seen as boring and extremely old fashioned but once one reaches a certain maturity, this alternative America transports you back…way back. I realize some of you may be aware of this already, but did you know that the size of a man’s calf muscle was a gauge of his wealth and importance in society? This particular body part may go unnoticed in this day and age but back in the colonial times, it was not uncommon for men to go around strutting their stuff and flexing their calf muscles for all- particularly the ladies- to see. For those working on reenactments and representing silversmiths and the working force behind a running stable, this is total immersion. You cannot roll up to the job site in a CAR blasting music from THIS century out of your new high tech speakers. The thought of wearing anything showing a brand name as part of the work attire would be simply unheard of and the smallest details, even down to the phrasing of sentences and the word choice reflect a certain antique air. If you are a gentleman dealing with the traditional working world and do not wish to sheer your long locks, this could be the place for you. Well, if you possess a vast knowledge of your craft and have mastered studies in American history. Minor details aside, this place moves even the most skeptic history lover to an extremely interesting phase in our nation’s past. So while you may not be jumping to plan your next vacation in this mainly pedestrian-only destination, look around for a Colonial Williamsburg junky- they are out there!

Time Warping

For me, it is always the most unexpected of moments when I stumble across an old photo or note from that special time known as 1994. It was a time so unique that the one photo I found tonight made me do multiple YouTube searches of my favorite flannel-clad musical inspirations. To help transport you back to this particular snapshot, I must first explain that brown lip gloss with flavors such as Dr. Pepper and Mr. Pibb were hot to trot and any hairstyle consisting of scrunchies or a clip fell under a category known as THE BOMB. Chucks were the preferred footwear and while a younger generation currently resides in my closet, many wore them like they were going out of style. I’m fairly confident most girls my age had a huge crush on Jared Leto as Jordan Catalano - the persona in this unearthed photograph was certainly channeling Claire Danes. Troll dolls were considered a mere thing of the past and slap bracelets had long since been banned from Middle School. It’s so interesting how one photo or really any song from that year can take me back. Perhaps some Buffalo Tom on the way to work tomorrow?

No Signal

While drivers from the North can be classified as aggressive, cutthroat and bold, some strong stereotypes can be placed on drivers from the South. This is a question based on generalizations, but why do different sets of driving rules take over once one crosses the Mason Dixon? Apparently the critical turn signal is a courtesy when you start navigating through North Carolina. When the rare snow occurs, it’s extremely common for everyone who owns a truck to flock out onto the ice and snow covered streets to prove that THEY CAN DO IT. In the same unsafe fashion, why do drivers in the South feel that going 45 miles an hour on the highway is the most practical move? In fact, I believe it has been debated that slow drivers are involved in as many- if not more- accidents than motorists driving at high speeds. Yes, I may have looked that up. Putting aside these common examples, location plays no part in some nationwide mistakes. For instance, the application of a whole face of makeup while driving at 50 miles per hour. Or my personal favorite, the rare and extremely dangerous en route reader. That’s right; some individuals feel that operating a two ton machine while diving into the latest Dan Brown novel is the best notion of multi-tasking ever invented. While we all do our best – at least most of the time- to avoid falling under these unfortunate categories, please do not let me spot you even attempting a crossword or Sudoku puzzle while on the road. Safe and geographically accurate driving everyone!

The Madness

In March, sports fanatics and casual viewers alike sense a dramatic change in the enthusiasm surrounding college sports. Specifically, I am speaking of basketball which causes the college t-shirts to be resurrected from storage in time for the NCAA tournament. Being a novice to the world of sports brackets in general, I went in based purely on the numbers and without warning I was hooked. To the point where I would find myself searching the web on my phone for the latest scores and upsets. It is during this month that you can tell by the mood immediately after a big game who just lost a friendly wager and who was putting money on the line. Players’ names are used in casual conversations like we are all personally involved in the lives and actions of these athletes. Addicting, you bet. The squeaks of shoes on the court and whistles become background noise echoed by loud cheers or groans of disapproval. Without following the games of the season, it is quick to discover which teams have hotheaded coaches heading for their next technical foul or coronary emergency. While it can be bit overwhelming at times, I have thoroughly enjoyed the games so far- bring on the madness!

I Hate Dummies

Who knew that childhood toys could suddenly be so terrifying once adulthood hit. A lone china doll is fine but group a bunch of them together in one room and there you have it- creepy. Maybe I blame Stephen King but I find clowns extremely uncomfortable and would not want to be caught alone with a clown doll, let alone an actual human in costume. As if I had a love for them in the first place, I was reminded yesterday of another nightmare educing childhood plaything. I am referring to the forever strange and disturbing ventriloquist doll. Why would this suddenly spring to mind one might ask? Well, a friend and coworker traveled to his childhood home over the weekend and returned with this once favored ventriloquist doll complete with monocle and blood red lips. We all had a good laugh and conversation at work discussing how spooky these sorts of dolls were and at the time, I figured this was the end of it. When I returned from the gym yesterday I wheeled my desk chair around to come face to face with this unsettling child size creature. As if that was not bad enough, at the end of the workday I ventured out to my car and found this indestructible doll in the backseat of my car strapped in with a seatbelt. Thank goodness for daylights savings time because if I had come into contact with that thing without the sun’s rays I may have had to check myself into some serious counseling. Apparently this year’s April Fools pranks are beginning a few weeks early so I will embrace the joking whole heartily but please, no more dolls!

Green For All

It is a simple fact that you do not have to be Irish to enjoy the festivities of St. Patrick’s Day. While some consider this day a free for all involving copious amounts of alcohol and dyed beer, this year I took to wearing green and faking a somewhat sketchy sounding Irish accent. Traveling to the mall tonight after work, I was surprised by how many people were wearing some variation of the shade of the day. I spotted a few red haired children with kelly green shamrock earrings and headbands proudly proclaiming their heritage and a few grumpy old men in the food court wearing “Kiss Me I’m Irish” shirts. Not sure that whole approach was working for them, but then again that could have explained the sour facial expressions. During work, I received a few festive email chains and even a mass text to my cell phone revealing a leprechaun popping out of a pot of gold and showcasing a shamrock tattoo on an area usually covered by clothing. There seems to always be some sort of mischief involved with this day but hey, it’s a fun way to spice up a Wednesday. So cheers to all of you enjoying a nice Guinness or Murphy’s Irish Stout, I look forward to seeing another sea of green this time next year.

Brainstorming Fools

It is unfortunate that as we grow older, some people feel that an increase in age means a decrease in practical jokes. Take for example the lovely tradition of April Fools. The first of April marks the hopeful transition into shorts and skirts but for me, it has always been a monumental day of pranks. In high school I was always one of the ring leaders surrounding these hoaxes and could be seen orchestrating private meetings and top secret dispatches. Going back even further, I was the usual culprit when a teachers chair was tied to their desk legs or there was a whoopee cushion accidentally misplaced under the seat of a person of authority. Dangerous? No. Harmless and extremely fun to carry out? Of course! Why should the occasional shenanigans cease when one enters the workplace environment? This just seems like a grueling and painful way to an early grave. Personally, while April Fools is an excellent excuse for debauchery, there is no reason why some fun cannot be part of every day. Take for example my current job. There is an unspoken rule that if someone leaves their computer unlocked then one has free reign over their instant messages, email and basically anything on the desktop. My personal favorite would be the computer background changeup. Who expects to come back to their computer to find a blown up picture of David Bowie circa the Ziggy Stardust era? A little joking is good for soul so let the pranks begin!

Opposite Attraction

While some people tend to attract friends that could be carbon copies of themselves, relationships formed in childhood will remind you that you can attend different colleges and determine drastically alternate hobbies without drifting apart. Take for example one of my best friends who happens to be celebrating a birthday today. When it came to guys, she preferred jocks while I tended to gravitate more towards artists and performers…well, I guess some things never change. I would break into a cold sweat when she demanded I don Lily Pulitzer at her future wedding while I threatened her with organic cottons and earth tones. We swapped clothes throughout middle and high school but when college rolled around, we found each other admiring each others styles with a polite and sincere “that looks like you.” While I can be more of a homebody, I turn to her for the exciting nightlife plans and happening places to spend my time home in Baltimore. In times of conflict, she comes to me for a calm and usually brutally honest dose of advice. While a stranger may not pick us out in a crowd as being close, I advise you to not let her contrasting love for polka dots and pink throw you off for childhood friends maintain some of the strongest bonds out there. So while I will not be clearing off my Ipod for any of her country music, I do hold this friendship in high regards and hope that everyone out there takes a moment or two to think of their old time buddies. Here’s to seeing eye to eye on the important aspects of life, and a cheers to many more years to come.

Farewell Chills

There’s something almost magical about that first day of spring. Today marked the first break in the chill where you debated wearing gloves and felt comfortable if not obgliged to drive with the windows down. There is this unspoken wave of relief and hope that sweeps over fellow office mates, postal workers and strangers on the street when you realize that the jackets can potentially be placed on their winter hangers for hibernation. The work day is still a full eight hours and the daily tasks remain unchanged however there is just an unexplanable something that lingers with the arrival of warmer weather. Maybe it is that extra hello in the hall, or a door held for a few prolonged seconds but it seems that even the coldest hearts feel the warmth and liberation of spring. Personally, I find that spring renews the sense of self worth and importance. For some, this could take form in the traditional spring cleaning where the cobwebs and lazy dustballs from the artic months are finally swept away. This welcome season could bring about shifts in diet and exercise regimes as the warmer – and bathing suit clad – months grow closer. In many, myself included, this time of year brings about a new wave of optimism. With the frigid weather hopefully becoming a mere memory, I find myself tossing aside those excuses once reserved for colder days. This covers such sentiments such as staying in due to the chilly temperature or watching movie after movie to avoid the necessary layering for outdoor adventures. When the temperature in North Carolina hits the average sixty degrees, these answers simply don’t cut it. So, here’s hoping we all wave goodbye to those chunky fleece jackets for another year and enjoy our natural outdoor surroundings!

Clear For Takeoff

Tomorrow evening I will be venturing to the relatively tame Raleigh-Durham International airport. Flying with my transport of choice, Southwest airlines will be transporting me northwest to the exciting - and hopefully not too cold- city of Chicago. While visiting the windy city is obviously an eventful jaunt in itself, I am never quite sure what I will experience in those terminal waiting areas. My last trip home to Baltimore was greeted with an hour delay so needless to say, the natives at gate 26 were rather restless. Throw a bunch of tired travelers into a small confined space and you have a recipe for hostility. Things were going pretty smoothly until we heard a piercing bark. Once, twice…three times. I began to see everyone looking around; some even growing frantic trying to figure out where this awful sound was coming from. It was as if everyone zoned in on their target at the same time and realized that a fellow vacationer had a dog under seven pounds crammed into what can only be referred to as a dog purse. As this small creature kept barking, people's faces began to change from looks of slight amusement to fear. This dog better not be on my flight. I even saw an elderly, and might I add very annoyed gentleman seek assistance from security in determining how one could possibly transport such an abomination. Let’s just say I was not envious of the looks being shot that woman's way as this dog, apparently excited by his new found popularity kept treating us to his best variety of vocal exultations. Apparently it is legal to carry on a laptop, purse, small suitcase or canine. Now being socially acceptable is quite another issue. Not to fear readers, tomorrow evening Tilla will remain at my apartment and the only things I will be carrying on are Ipod and some heavy reading material.

Silly Humans

While I do understand cats sleep for oh, about a zillion hours a day it boggles my mind why these tranquil moments cannot fall between midnight and five a.m. Living in Asheville, I did not run into too many nocturnal issues but for some reason the transition from hardwood to carpeted floors set off some sort of switch in my young feline’s brain. It started with soft, gentle meows wanting to involve me in playtime every night around ten thirty. This was quickly shot down with the obvious solution of closing Tilla out of my bedroom. Yes, this would in most people’s minds equate to a signal saying hey, I am sleeping please leave me alone. Nope. It was as if I initiated some sort of unspoken World War III and by no means was this something Tilla was going to take lightly. The scratching at the door turned into the total annihilation of any carpet resembling an obstacle to my wearing affection. Starting out somewhat like a run in ones pantyhose, they kept spreading. It got to the point where I had to seek guidance from my apartment complex over the fees involved if something were to hypothetically happen to the carpeting by my bedroom door. This lovely side effect of being shut out was now being combined with full on body slamming against my door. Not just a little nudge, I am talking linebacker strength force. If you were not aware there was a cat on the other side, some might even venture to call for help or brace themselves with makeshift weapons for an intrusion. After several seemingly endless nights of this, the war was truly waged. I tried everything. Large pieces of cardboard propped up against the door to stifle the noise were found ripped to shreds in the morning. Old pillows were tied tightly, and not at all attractively, on the outside of the door only to be nudged and to have the strings mangled and bitten. Every night began a countdown to the ritual known as “Tilla proofing” my sleeping quarters. Since the addition of Loki, my roommate’s kitten, things have drastically improved as long as some sort of feeding is involved. And sadly, some nights I still curse the ways of this small life force that keeps me from my precious REM cycles. After these trials and failed efforts, I have learned several things. Apparently, cats sleep when and where they want, and humans cannot possibly think that they will ever change this. Here’s hoping for a calm and restful evening.

Wired Neatness

Some people’s brains are wired to make them operate in a disorganized fashion. Others prefer neatness. Then, there is me. Since I was young, I have always felt best having my things lined up in a very precise way. You will not find me with a tape measure counting the exact centimeters between each book on the bookshelf but I do enjoy a sense of order. There is a place and function for everything even if that means just an aesthetic happiness. I get an odd satisfaction out of organizing spaces, in fact I have been known to solicit friends as clients and perform a makeover on any said space or work area. Some find this a tedious chore but I function much more happily if the space around me is both neat and makes sense. It is more than safe to say that I inherited this from my father. This is a man who as a young child, could tell if one of his brothers had borrowed a writing utensil from his desk simply by judging the ratio of desk to pencil space. I guess there are times where I fall into similar habits. I cannot fully enjoy the space around me unless it is meticulously structured. I find myself constantly tweaking and rearranging my living area to make things just so. Some are creatures of habit, but I do understand that some people simply do not care about putting the effort into this sort of thing. Friends and strangers alike, if anyone needs assistance in this field please feel free to make contact!

Napping Nostalgia

It’s hard to believe a time existed where I tried to avoid the afternoon nap. Growing up as a child filled with energy, I was constantly trying to learn and investigate. Taking time to shut one’s eyes was really just an obstacle in acquiring knowledge of all things. Take for example naptime in Kindergarden. Sure this was probably more for the teacher’s sanity but personally, when we were all told to get our mats out and observe the naptime rules of silence, I found this extremely difficult. I mean what kind of teacher would want to make us stop having fun? Going to slumber parties years later proved to be no different. Yes, it may have been annoying to hear laughter at all hours of the night but hey, I was having a grand old time. Who needed sleep? It seemed that when the pressures of life increased, so did that desire to slumber. I knew a few friends in college who tried, unsuccessfully, to master sleeping with their eyes open during classes. Needless to say this was quite the amusing failure. If only we could somehow transport these once dreaded afternoon naps of childhood into the daily adult life. If there were suddenly a rule among corporations worldwide requiring that their employees partake in an afternoon snooze, I’m willing to bet there would not be protest lines and picketers crowding local politicians. Business meetings would run more smoothly, late afternoon vending machine binges would be avoided and everyone could reunite with their loved ones after a long day feeling refreshed and exhilarated. You would no longer find yourself snapping at coworkers for no real reason, muttering under your breath at fellow drivers or shooting subconscious evil glares while fueling your car at a gas station. Some countries have already taken this brilliant idea and implemented it into daily life. Until this wonderful shift is made, I will stick to the lovely, and highly anticipated Sunday afternoon shuteye.

Junky, Fitness Junky

Nearly four years ago I thought the idea of a successful fitness plan was walking to class rather than begging desperately to borrow my roommate’s car at the last minute. In that same mindset, a successful meal was really anything between classes or late at night. The key word there being anything. It was almost as if someone had started a vicious rumor that the beloved Bojangles, Steak-N-Shake and Cook Out were suddenly going to vanish off of Elon’s campus and we HAD to get there right away. Now, I will admit, there sometimes is nothing better than a delicious cookout milkshake- my personal choice being Cherry Cheesecake- but it’s funny how magically the daily sugar cravings and lusting after fried food have been replaced with the desire for whole grains, lean protein and VEGETABLES. I will be the first to admit that the Filet-O-Fish from McDonalds is quite delicious but this has turned into the rare treat rather than the dietary staple. And it’s not just me. Friends from home have reformed their ways, hopped on the exercise bandwagon and really started taking control of the items their bodies process. It’s as if all those studies about the food pyramids back in elementary school were just lurking quietly in our memory banks for that AHAH moment. Or, maybe we all just got sedentary jobs behind desks where we had to either face these changes or become borderline diabetics. The fact is, it has been more fun than torture. More easy shifts rather than late night meltdowns over a frozen treat in the freezer. In the world of a twenty something person, there are an extreme number of unknowns and this is just one way of saying YES I can control this. I mean, really why not? So please feel free to join me sometime for that scrumptious Filet-O-Fish but be ready to put in a few miles afterwards!

Dating Show Frenzy

Can someone please tell me what it is about dating shows that seem to suck away all common sense and solid decision making ability? I mean really, I forget tasks for the evening and find myself engrossed in marathon showings of these highly predictable, scripted train wrecks. Growing up with about four or occasionally five TV stations, I got used to the stellar UPN lineup consisting old favorites like Blind Date and Elimidate. Let’s be honest, you have probably seen these at least once. And even if you acted like you hated it the whole time- you know who you are- there is just a natural human sense of curiosity that takes over. Dating can be pretty daunting so why not just watch other people flounder around trying? There is always some sort of scandal, some outrageous single willing to say or do pretty much about anything so while most of the guesswork is out of the equation, we all still end up tuning in. Take The Bachelor. It’s a pretty bold move to block off a two hour chunk every week but as there have been at least ten seasons and counting, it’s obvious that someone is watching. I'm as guilty as the next person- I mean I form opinions, pick favorites and defend individuals like I have known them a whole lifetime. As if being kicked off one of these shows is not enough, they have a reunion of all the rejected ladies so they can sit around and relive painful memories. Is this supposed to make us feel better about the hard times in life? Well, it does secretly make me feel grateful that I’m not out embarrassing myself and my family in hopes of awkwardly gaining some stranger’s approval. I know this making my Mom proud but I will continue to tune in because let’s face it- we want to know who Jake chooses.

Twenty Six Going on Eighty

In case there was any confusion on the matter, I would like to clarify that I am not in college anymore. While this may seem like a rather obvious fact, I was reminded of this during a recent journey to visit some old friends. Pulling an all nighter in college seemed to be both a frequent and effortless endeavor. Fast forward a mere three and a half years and this same feat is met with fatigue, crankiness and general discomfort. That’s right everyone…we are all getting older. Some function perfectly on just a few hours of sleep but when I try to pull this kind of prank, my body revolts and decides to greet me with some sort of cold, sinus infection or in the worst cases - the flu. Apparently, the same goes for not properly hydrating, eating irregular and strange meals and consuming more than one glass of wine. Those crazy college kids may be able to eat a whole pizza at two in the morning but I’m pretty sure my arsenal of home remedies including Tums, Pepto Bismol and Rolaids would argue that this is in fact not the best plan of action. I suppose I should step into the elderly mindset of this post and use the phrase “back in the day” to refer to the exploratory time known as college. The late nights, heavy meals and constant on-the-go attitude never seemed to catch up with any of us. Let's just say that nostalgically trying to replicate the good old days would be ill advised. So, let us all set our early morning alarm clocks, take a daily multi-vitamin and gear up our bodies for the work week. Emergen-C packets are my personal recommendation…oh, and not acting like a nineteen year old. Hope everyone survives the week!

Goodbye Sweets

For those of you who are practicing Catholics, today marks the first day of the Lenten season. It also marks the start to the period where many give up their favorite food, habit or vice for the next forty days. In past experience, this has started out well. The goals are set, and the pantry is raided of all sweets, unhealthy food and post-its are left around the home and workplace with friendly reminders. “No Soda” or perhaps “No Smoking” notes of inspiration are found scattered with exclamation marks and enthusiastic smiley faces. The best of intentions are set out early on, but for some this can be a real testament to boundaries more than that of faith. Take for example a coworker I had a few years back who gave up caffeine. Keep in mind this is a person who seemed to shoot lasers through you if your morning greeting did not include a nice hot cup of java. The Lenten season started out smoothly, with talks of switching to hot tea and making long-term, health conscious life changes. Then, somewhat like Jekyll and Hyde things took a sudden and rather unfortunate turn for the worst. Like any addict, there were warning signs. It started with the late arrival for work. Then throw in the haggard appearance and the inability to focus on things that once seemed to derive such joy and excitement. While this downhill spiral only occurred on day five, it is a truth that this season can be hard for both the devout and inactive religious follower. Personally, I am giving up deserts. That means cookies and candies including my personal favorite: dark chocolate. I will clarify that my daily morning snack of Greek yogurt, blueberries and almonds does NOT fall into this category. Balancing personal goals with the ability to keep close friends around could be challenging but is by no means impossible. Good luck everyone- I hope to hear back from you in forty.

Oh Canada

Maybe it’s just me, but does it seem like the summer Olympics get a boatload more coverage than the winter games? It could be that I seem to be busier in the winter, or maybe I just don’t have the same stalker-like tendencies when Baltimore’s own Michael Phelps is not sweeping up the Gold medals. For whatever reason, there seems to be a greater opening ceremony countdown when the warmer months roll around. Over the past few years, I have noticed that the location of these games seems to be directly linked to the public’s excitement level. When I think of Canada, my initial thoughts are of Celine Dion and the smog that graced the East Coast more than a decade ago. Without sounding like I am carrying some sort of strange grudge, let me state that I have nothing against this beautiful place and will simply say that my knowledge of Canada is limited. I do know that they have more liberal rules on same-sex marriage, the legal drinking age, and the fashion guidelines of a policeman on horseback. Not to downplay any of this, or the breathtaking scenery but there just seems to be something missing. I don’t think I’m alone in my age group when I say that the details of the Olympics this year fell pretty low on everyone’s radar. I will say that with the exception of a few guilty pleasure shows, I do not consider myself a television addict. I am however an avid reader of various online news sites and in previous years it seemed that there was some sort of elaborate Olympic preview getting everyone geared up for the competition. The bottom line is, I hope this is just a case of me being tuned out to the latest sporting news and that these athletes are getting the recognition and praise they deserve. Canada, my non home and native land, I am sure you are being a fine host. However, it is obvious that this viewer will need a bit more warning for the next few televised lineups.

I Heart Avalons

My hatred for the Toyota Avalon goes back so far I'm even sure my Learner’s Permit was something on the horizon. It all started the evening my family went to look at a new car for Dad. Going to the Toyota dealership was in general, pretty exciting. Then add in a young teenager and the access to sit in pretty much any car in the showroom and it equates to a really fun evening. After arriving, I gravitated over to the showroom’s brand new Avalon and slipped in the driver’s seat. I am sure I had these awesome visions of myself zooming down the road, picking up some friends, and just being generally cool. There were even some pretend revving of the engine sound effects manufactured by yours truly, and some pretend swerving and off roading. The fun and games ended when it was time to exit this wonderful sedan. For whatever reason, this Avalon had decided to automatically lock me in like there was some possibility that I would steal the keys, drive this car through the glass window and out of the showroom. While a somewhat epic scene mirroring Ferris Bueller’s Day Off did come to mind, there was no way someone under the age of sixteen would even come close to pulling this off. So, you could imagine my surprise when I was suddenly unable to get out of the car. I did the usual trouble shooting, tried the automatic lock button and finally resorted to manually unlocking my door. This seemed like the right move at the time. WRONG. Not three seconds after I had switched the lock, the whole showroom erupted in ear piercing siren noises. Keep in mind we are indoors. At night. With not too many other people trying to break into, or out of the display vehicles. At this time, my parents were trying to conduct some actual business and as I searched frantically for them, I glazed over a few annoyed and somewhat amused faces of the dealership employees. It took them what seemed like twenty minutes to locate the “special” key that stopped this alarm. Personally, I do not think enough haste was made in helping this embarrassed young girl flee the scene. While I eventually dated a guy in High School who drove an Avalon, and have a friend who used to own one, I still have a special and rather comical hatred in my heart for that vehicle. And to anyone out there going to test drive this car, I advise you to use caution- and the automatic locks at all times.

Childcare in Training

I like to believe that having a pet is like putting the on training wheels for having a child. That is, unless you have my cat Tilla. In that case, it feels that on some days I am raising twins. I had heard that cats were weird, but I did not fully grasp this until I adopted one. Almost three years ago, I was doing my volunteer training hours at the Asheville Humane Society when I stumbled upon the face that I now refer to as my furry child. I made my apartment “cat friendly” and completed the adoption process, all the while very excited to add this small creature to my home. Tilla and I spent the next few days staring at each other as she got used to her new living space and I got used to the strange tendencies of a feline. To start, I had to adjust to falling asleep with a ferocious hunter on the loose. For the first few nights I would stretch out completely still in anticipation of her attacking my feet in the middle of the night. After a few days I think my exhaustion got the best of me and I learned to simply get used to this (now) twelve pound weight jumping on me in the wee hours of the morning. Let’s go back to that cat-proofing I attempted for my apartment. Somewhat like toddlers, I am not really quite sure what to expect when I leave Tilla by herself. One afternoon I went to take the trash out- please keep in mind this activity takes a whole oh, I don’t know, five minutes. I left Tilla up in the apartment peacefully minding her own business, which in this particular case meant sleeping. When I returned expecting the same tranquil scene, I was greeting with what looked like a small tornado landing site. In those few minutes, Tilla had knocked her food plate all over the floor, completely toppled her water bowl, knocked all the magazines and flowers off the dining room table and had somehow managed to get her front claw stuck in the blinds. Yup, I came back to a war zone with Tilla looking at me sheepishly as she awkwardly hung there by one paw. Helping a small one get out of a potentially distressing situation and cleaning up a large mess? Check. While this may not fully equate to having a child, I’m pretty sure that one thing is the same; caring for someone or something is nothing short of eventful.

Make It Or Break It

Word on the street is that it takes two weeks to make or break a habit. I forced myself into believing this when I started training for a 5K this summer. The race was in November and while I had these initial images of paramedics following me closely over those 3.4 miles, I ended up not only finishing the race, but running the whole way. The next challenge on the horizon is the 10K. For those of you who are not familiar or simply don’t care about the world of running, this equates to a little over six miles. For me, this would currently clock me at roughly sixty five minutes of straight forward motion. While some runners focus on beating their best time, I am focusing on simply finishing. The race is in April so I have a little over two months to prepare myself. In more optimistic terms, I am giving myself two weeks to make a new habit – running four miles. After that, the ante will be upped to five and well, you see the trend. It is a fact that I now get rather disgruntled if I go more than a day without hitting the pavement, or in the months of December thru March, the treadmill. It is also a fact that a mere eight years ago I never thought I would find myself running- gasp- for FUN. During High School I ran cross country to train for the upcoming and might I add, tough basketball season. My Cross Country coach was a woman named Janice who had a strong New York accent and wore a clip-on hair extension. Basically, I learned to expect all sass all the time. There were race days where she would encourage us to yell obscenities at her and show her some colorful hand gestures under one condition, we keep running. While there were times when I happily took her up on these suggestions, I have to say they did work. Oh Janice, wherever you are, I know you would be proud. Turns out several weeks may not be enough to mold someone into a fitness junky but it certainly plants the seed. Please note this current enthusiasm because there is a strong possibility there will be a future post completely derailing my running progress. However, I will say to anyone who thought they could never be a runner; I am proof that you can become one. Just plan on taking things (two) weeks at a time.

Love, Everything But the Decorations

While retail stores like to go crazy around the holidays, it seems that this year the shopping frenzy is extending all the way into the middle of February. The exact date can be pinpointed to, that’s right, Sunday February 14th. I should have prepared myself when I started seeing commercials in January for shiny necklaces and bracelets promising to be that perfect gift to show your loved one you really care. Has anyone else noticed that expensive gifts can also be directly linked to colossal mistakes or apologies deeming jeweled items from a catalog? Let me interject with what some of you may be thinking. No, I am not a single twenty-something woman angry about not having a Valentine. I am however, someone who is sick of the commercialization of every single excuse to dress up or buy stuff. First there was Halloween where let’s face it, is reserved for children and women who feel for one night, they are allowed to wear anything that remotely resembles a costume. Before the cobwebs are brushed down, you breeze through a few turkeys and pilgrims and then BOOM you are hit with the phenomenon that comprises Christmas decorations. After the New Year rolls around, I can become exhausted watching commercials in the privacy of my own apartment- never mind going out and actually doing some shopping. I enjoy sending Valentines and going out for a bite to eat but for some, it seems to be a slippery slope into a manic purchasing spree. Let’s just all relax, put down the credit cards and enjoy our loved ones- without decorations- all year round!

There's a Game Tonight?

Let’s be honest, I am only interested in the Superbowl if the Ravens are involved. Since they fell out of the running a while back, I temporarily forgot that the Superbowl was this weekend. Sadly, I was reminded of this when I made the foolish decision to venture out to the local grocery store. My first clue should have been the parking lot. This was a casual trip for me as I was simply stocking up on a few items I had neglected to get while at the store earlier this week. For the other ninety-eight percent of the drivers in that parking lot, this was an extreme mission. Heaven forbid that the meatiest and grossest snacks be purchased less than five hours prior to kickoff! While circling the parking lot and beginning to feel like a cutthroat vulture narrowing in on its prey, I decided to tone it down a notch and park over in the Walgreens parking lot. This did involve a longer, more dangerous path through this pavement-made gauntlet but I finally managed to enter the store in one piece. Once I passed a few weathered looking employees and made my way into the produce section I decided it best to map out my plan of attack. Amidst the occasional sports jersey for one of the two teams playing tonight, I realized that this could perhaps be an even worse scene than the pre-snowfall frenzy mentioned a few posts back. There were some people who had assembled lists and seemed to be splitting off various members of their entourage with assigned tasks and items to gather. There were also a few men who had obviously decided they could handle things without the help of a shopping cart and were dangerously trying to juggle cases of beer with frozen wings and various dipping sauces. Thankfully, the items on my list did not seem to overlap with the general consensus of must have purchases and I managed to swing by the olive bar and gather my Smart Balance vegetable spread unscathed. Note to self, next year do not attempt to do any sort of serious shopping hours before the Superbowl. On second thought, maybe avoiding any grocery establishment the day of this sporting event is best. Maybe next year Ravens?

Welcome to Dell

Some people know how to fix cars, others know a great deal about the wonders of installing cable television. Over the past few weeks, I have learned how to dismantle, and unsuccessfully repair my poor Dell laptop. My beloved Inspiron 1720 was carefully placed into a box yesterday as it awaited its departure to the Dell factory where it would be “fixed.” I used this term lightly as over the past two weeks my veteran computer of oh, a year and four months of life has had a new hard drive, memory and motherboard. That’s right, motherboard. For you unfamiliar, I was told by the Dell technician that came to my apartment Tuesday evening that the motherboard is basically the brain of the computer and that an issue with it was usually the last thing that could go wrong. Well, that was certainly a knee-slapper when after replacing all the parts that go onto the motherboard, my computer decided to grace us with yet another blue screen of death. After what seemed like eight or nine lengthy phone calls to report these latest problems, my new and extremely patient friend explained my options. They could send out all new parts and have me block another two to three hours of my evening off to possibly fix my computer or, I could mail it off to the factory for ten to twelve days. From the start, I was avoiding the factory for several reasons. One, I do not love the idea of having my computer shipped all over the place and manhandled by a million technicians. Secondly, at this point I was quite fond of the idea of accidentally dropping my laptop off the balcony and ending this whole process myself. No more parts, no more technicians, just a million little pieces miraculously protected by my accidental coverage warranty. Let us all hope that when another brown box from Dell arrives, it is my computer working like a brand new machine. Or, I could always go for an actual brand new machine. Those are the only options before things go south and as my sister says, things get “real.” Thank goodness for Paul’s Inspiron 5100 and the good sense to have me back up my files. Day one in the shop everyone, get well wishes encouraged.

That Crazy White Stuff

As someone who grew up in Baltimore, it was understood that I would encounter the occasional snow storm. Moving down to North Carolina, I was shocked and somewhat astonished to find that those in the South do not tend to handle this concept as smoothly. Take for example the gallons of salt that are poured onto the highway three days before a predicated snow storm. Some would consider this a necessary safety precaution but to many of those dwelling in the Raleigh area, this equates to three whole days to prepare for doomsday. The usual trip to the grocery store is met with panicked faces jabbing with elbows and polite smiles as we all make our way over to the bread section- which, at this time is usually almost completely empty. Events for the week after any dreaded snowfall are put on hold “just in case,” and many admit to stocking up like they are preparing for a nuclear meltdown. Personally, I prefer to just sit back with some movies and delicious toasty beverages. My feelings during the snowfall last weekend were that canceling any plans in lieu of an all day pajama lounge-fest ended up being a nice turn of events. Now that we have survived our first 2010 snowfall, I find myself more annoyed than anything when I see those flakes on the pages of weather.com. Sadly, this weekend could be Asheville-free and another point for Mother Nature. Toasty beverages anyone?

Blast From the Past

It’s funny how when you work with a few people around the same age, you look back on certain shows, individuals and songs with a similar nostalgic glow. It is also amusing how that same harbored fondness can quickly turn to sounds of disbelief and exclamations of what were we thinking? It seems that on some days, one can be lucky enough to encounter a combination of both these feelings. Let’s take things back to earlier this afternoon. I am not sure how it all started but eventually, there was talk of Corey and Topanga, the trio of brothers known as Brad, Randy and Mark and the epic music video surrounding the Guns N’ Roses single November Rain. It is true that some things just never get old. After all, some of the same stars who graced the pages of Tiger Beat magazine now have a somewhat odd, grown-up appeal. These characters all had such a relatable familiarity. If I had to deal with the awkwardness of adolescence, so did they. I was learning about some of life’s trials alongside Urkel from Family Matters and Corky from Life Goes On. Now when things get tough, it is nice to know that the beat goes on and that some things, like my secret love for Rick Astley’s dancing just never fade.

LOST

I know, I know...a few days in and I got sidetracked. I do blame the three hours that marked the start of LOST: The Finale Season and DELL. More writing soon!

Asheville, Land of the Free

As a firm believer in always having a string of plans lined up, I have decided that this coming weekend shall mark a retreat to my former mountain home. That’s right, Asheville. For those who have not ventured there, I must tell you that it is hard to find a place as comfortable. I first traveled there for an Interpol concert back in college and it was from that moment that I knew I would eventually become a transplant resident. While it is impossible to avoid any town’s occasional jerky individual, I have to say that the percentage in Asheville seemed to be alarmingly, and might I add pleasantly small. It is not uncommon to start a random conversation on the street or to just see someone really just feeling free and in the moment. In fact, the blistering hot weekend my family helped me move down south will forever house a fond and extremely special memory for my parents and sister. I had gone into a job fair for The Biltmore Estate and as it was really too hot to sit around, my family decided to stroll around Pack Square while waiting for me to finish up. I can only imagine that they saw folks of many different shapes, sizes and attitudes enjoying the toasty summer sun. As the story goes, they were soon greeted by a middle aged woman strolling up the sidewalk in a beautiful flowing skirt. It was also at that time that a strong breeze crept up on her and to avoid vivid detail; my family was thrown into the “free spirited” world that surrounds many of Asheville’s finest. I cannot say that I was extremely upset about missing out on this encounter but you have to love it- never a dull moment. While the weather will be much chillier, I do promise to report back on any visual gems I stumble upon this weekend.

What Would The Grammys Do Without Auto-tune?

While I admit to not always knowing every artist and song on the Top 40, this year’s Grammy awards really got me riled up. Perhaps this goes back to my love of all things vintage, but whatever happened to musicians simply playing to their adoring tune-loving fans? I just watched a confusing mash up of November Rain featuring Slash, some spastic rapping and enough bright lights to send even the most stable person into a seizure. While these artists are crowd pleasers, I can’t help but wonder if they would last without the technical wonders of auto-tune. What are these risqué outfits and pyrotechnics really doing besides distracting us from the music itself? It is true that the performers have to adjust themselves to cater to the trends of the listeners but it is just upsetting to me what most Pop music and these awards shows have succumbed to. True, I could have been born in the wrong decade but I know that my fellow A Cappella lovers would agree with me on some of my tirades…thoughts welcome.

The Beginning

It seems that the hip and happening thing these days is to start a blog. As I consider myself somewhat with it – at least on a good day, I decided to take the plunge. It’s funny how writing something that anyone has access to makes you just sit and stare at the computer screen like you are taking your drivers exam for the second or maybe third (don’t lie) time. Luckily, I am now the skillful operator of my trusty Toyota Camry so I am hoping that this fear of public posts will soon be a thing of the past. The goal is to write something every day and while it may not be the top news story or even anything you would remotely care about, it is all part of the creative process. So, happy reading!