Sing Me Home, Mat Kearney.

Breathe in, breathe out.

I just got back from a fabulous little road trip to Utah. Some of the girls and I went for a concert (Mat Kearney and Keane).

I adore Mat Kearney. He sings the songs that "doctors make out to" - an obvious Grey's Anatomy reference for anyone who is a huge fan of the show. He posted a video blog from his stop in Salt Lake City. Check it:

We were standing on those very steps! In that very hall! It was only years ago when he put his arm around me and told me that he loved me and that if it weren't for the tour, he would stay with me forever.

Except for that didn't happen and he didn't say that. I love him still and am so glad I got to see him in concert again!

Good Book in the Left Hand and a Rollin Pin in the Right.

Oh the silly things we do when we are young. Third grade young. For grandparents day, we always did some sort of talent show at school. For my special moment, I chose to sing a little number - a ridiculously age-inappropriate Vince Gill song.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HeMrn_NWoc4

I know. Mom, where were you when I was picking out songs? At any rate...the moment lives on in glory, even now. I was on the phone with my aunt in California. Her daughter lives here and whilst said daughter was having her nails done, she overheard a couple women say they were from Garden Valley (the location of my debut). Cousin asked the ladies if they knew of my family. They said "Yes, specifically the little girl (me). She performed in a talent show a long time ago and when she was getting ready to start, she said 'hit it!' We've been waiting for her to pop up on the big screen or something."

Hit it? I said hit it. The best part of that is that I was running the cassett player. Note to self: Self, not cool to say 'hit it' if you're your own maiestro.

At any rate, I need not search any further for fame - it has already come. They're talking about me in nail salons all over Ada and Boise County.

Now THIS is Customer Service.

The stylist and I opted for some coffee and...some knitting (nothing says cool like crafting in public) this evening.

We sent our lattes back once because...well...they were sugar free. No - thank you for the kind, subtle suggestion, but no. I'll take the sugar and make it a large. Mmmmk, pumpkin?

ANYWAY. Our dear barista - we'll call him Martha - came out with our round-two coffees, he noticed our knitting endeavor and said, "Whatcha workin' on?" "Uhhh, just nothing," was my reply and the Stylist informed him, "I'm just learning." He observed her casting technique and said, "You know, there is an easier way to do that." He then took the needles out of her hands and showed her a new (way more complicated...we didn't let on that we thought so...but for your information) method. She watched and "mmhmm"ed.

I captured the moment with my phone. I feel as though he served as an example of customer service at it's finest. "Sure, send back the latte you ordered. We'll make you another for free, bring it out to you and, shoot, is that a so-and-so stitch? Here's a better way. Thanks for choosing Starbucks."

"Never...

...underestimate the power of your presence." - Rob Bell.

When you have no words left to say and there are no actions left to be taken - don't underestimate the power

Darned Paparazzi

If I were ever a celebrity, the slow-for-news press would have a hay day following me around. I'm a giant ball of embarrassing photo ops. I've talked with the Producer about this - she intends to chew funny when she becomes famous, just to give people something to talk about. I feel like some celebrities are just looking to throw the paparazzi a bone. Like LeAnn:

Or (to protect his legacy - I will anono-mize his name) _ono of _2:

While I'm still on this side of the camera, I've decided to practice my own paparazzo skills. Just yesterday, I caught the Diva (Sheddy McShedsAlot) in the most unflattering of angles and am consequently publishing her moment for the world (all three of you ((HIGH FIVE))) to see:

So concerned with her personal hygiene, she paid no matter to vanity. "Doh!"

It IS A Broken Road Ain't It, Mama's Boy?

Mama's Boy ruined Rascal Flatts for me for the rest of my days. The same one that kind of ruined the word wife. Brief recap: Ex comes out of the five year old woodwork about a month ago and says, "I think about you a lot - thinkin you're everything I'd want in a wife." Say WHAT? All said over a text message, mind you. We broke up via text message. Come on.

It obviously didn't go anywhere. I'm lookin' for a love that would last even if I lost both my thumbs.

However. The boy bounces back fast. Found himself a new squeeze (/"serious relationship") two weeks later. Hope she has unlimited text messaging.

Warning. Vent. Cuss. Cuss (Not really).

My mind is a kaleidescope at the moment. The last two and a half hours were bizarre. Recap? Ok, but only because you asked.

I went to the grocery store. Bizarre enough. Gross. I was really into it tonight - thinking that if I knocked it out tonight I wouldn't have to go for another month. Done with my twelve bags of groceries. Loaded up in the back of the truck and zipped home.

The drive was fun and even included truck dancing when "Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy" played on the radio. Happy as a clam pre-bake, parked in a comfortable spot right outside my apartment. I had the rest of the evening planned: cheese nips, painting project and my Elvis pandora station.

Fast forward one minute - twelve bags of groceries on my arms (I'm a one-trip Trixie - can't HANDLE going back and forth to the truck) when I realize that when I was at my parents earlier today, I had grabbed THEIR keys that has my spare and NOT my house keys on it before I hit the grocery store. Cuss.

Drive back to Ma and Pa's - switch keys, walk out the front door and there is a fluffy white puppy on the doorstep followed by a curly, equally fluffy, little dog. What do you do with two strange dogs at 10:30 at night? You INSIST they stay in your parent's backyard until the morning and construct a "Found" yard sign.

Finally wind up back in my neck of the woods and there was not a normal parking spot to be found - drove about the block twice and settled for across the street parking. Cuss. Whatever. Load up twelve bags of groceries for the second time and loaf up to my apartment.

Get to my door, cat tries to escape. Cat scratches my arm whilst trying to get her out of the way. Try to open my kitchen cabinet - it's stuck shut. Won't open. Cuss. Cuss. Cuuuuuuuussss. Unpack the groceries (as best I could minus one of my cabinets) and grab the new globe for the ceiling fan. Doesn't fit. Cuss.

My conclusion at the end of the evening? It's a man's fault. All of it. I don't even have a specific one to blame - but even so, nameless man of the future, tonight I am MAD at you for not being here. I assume that the evening would have gone as planned if you were here. I'm TIRED of lugging my own groceries, guessing at how big the stupid globe is for the ceiling fan, sticky cabinets, etc., etc., ETC.

Hmmmph.