Happy Valentine's Day, Bubba

I've had some interesting experiences in my day. It's not really that surprising that I have a bit of a dark side. Here's a vintage one that never seems to lose its shock-value.

When I was an 18 year-old freshman at BYU (this is '81-'82), one of my dorm floormates was taking a Psych class. The professor asked the girls to recruit other female students to attend a dance at the Utah State Prison with the convicted sex offenders in an effort to "provide them with positve social interactions." Go ahead--take time to reread that line and we'll go on. Ready? So of course, we were all horrified, disgusted, and no-way-in-hell-will-you-ever-get-me-to-do-that(ed). But she was so desperate to get extra credit or something that she would not let it rest. Finally, we decided (as only stupid 18 year-old BYU girls could do) that there was safety in numbers and we would do this, with the assurance that there were guards everywhere and we would be perfectly safe. I know that the picture I had in my head was of a well-lit open room, a couple of songs, then we could go home. Never assume that the penal system thinks the same way you do.

Somewhere around 20 of us (there was a shockingly low average IQ that year, I think) drove in through the gates, and they closed tight behind us. There were armed guards watching us from the towers as we drove around the side to an entrance in a dark parking lot. Wouldn't you think that lighting is one thing prisons wouldn't scrimp on? We all wanted to turn back at that point, but instead we walked up the steps and through the door.

Okay, growing up in the military we had places called "Teen Clubs", which were supposed to be places where kids could dance, play pool, and stay out of trouble. What our Teen Club really was was a place where kids could make out, smoke pot, and meet up before sneaking off to get drunk. This had the same feel. The room was dim with a disco ball hanging from the ceiling. I kid you not. And there surrounding the perimeter were the scariest looking group of men you can imagine. Then the door shut behind us and we were stuck for the night. We were told that if we tried to leave we would be shot. Maybe that was a sick joke, but I certainly believed it. There were non-prisoners there, but I'm pretty sure they were just a bunch of therapists. I thought there was a chance I could beat them up, let alone what a 300 pound convicted felon could do if he were so inclined.

At the time I was a little bitty thing, about 125 pounds of nothing. So when Bubba, which was actually his name, pointed at me from across the room and said "I wants to dance wid choo!" at the top of his lungs, there wasn't a whole lot I could do about it. So I became Bubba's "date" for the evening. Nothing like being held close by a large, sweating, scary man who had already done things my teenage brain couldn't even imagine. Bubba turned out to be quite the Fred Astaire, at least in his mind. He flipped me all over that room. At one point I ended up on the floor, but he had me back on my feet in no time. He had eyes for no one but me. What a lucky girl.

This seriously lasted for about two hours. Like it was a real date! We finally got to leave and I shook all the way home. Then I took a hot shower. Then another one. Not everyone felt that way, though. Some of the other girls danced with inmates that looked like any other normal guy. They were so charmed they gave them their real names and phone numbers. Did you know that prisoners can call the dorms collect? They can.

Apparently, we were not the first group of girls to do this. I believe that BYU participated in this for several semesters, if not years. Eventually, it was determined that these "evenings" really weren't all that helpful in reducing the recidivism rate of the offenders, and it was discontinued.

Ya think? Eventually the dreams slowed and I no longer screamed in my sleep. I'm kind of kidding about that, but kind of not. But shame on that BYU professor. I doubt he would have ever asked his own daughters to do that. Fortunately, Elvira is much smarter than her mother and would (hopefully) never do such a stupid thing.

So when I post my dark little ditties on the playlist, just know that much darker ones are playing in my head.

Playlist, Pt. 2

Duffy

To me, my playlist is full of happy, danceable songs. Elvira has brought it to my attention that they are really rather dark, angsty, and slightly angry. I see her point. But they are happy songs to me! I was raised on "Mack the Knife" which is really just a song about a serial killer. I knew all the words by the time I could talk, I think. I don't like skulls, horror movies, or blood. But I love my music.

Case in point: The Smiths. Oh Morrissey. In another life, it would have been me that was your muse. No one can make depression and tragedy sound more appealing. And those eyes! He's a looker, that's for sure. Those of you who saw "New York Doll" (and if you haven't, please do) will remember him as one of the primary contributors. After my doctor's visit last week I listened to "Girlfriend In a Coma" all the way home. It calmed me down and made me smile. That's a little twisted, I guess. And there's nothing like hearing the sweet sounds of a children's choir singing "Hang the DJ" on the song "Panic." They grow up so fast. But I don't even come close to my sister Caroline as far as my devotion is concerned. Nothing like a woman in love...

It's never advisable to tackle a home improvement project without a good soundtrack. The opening CD to our painting project at Em's was Duffy's "Rockferry", which did the trick admirably. I love her voice. She's like a cross between Dusty Springfield and Petula Clark. "Mercy" is a great R&B track, and "Delayed Devotion" is the sort of anthem I want my daughters to memorize before they start dating. Boys, you've been forewarned. It reminds me of one of the few times that I did and said the right thing in a particular relationship (not Sweetie, obviously).

I first heard the Beautiful South when I popped in to visit Em at the music store she worked at many years ago. They were playing a used CD over the speakers and I had them take it out and sell it to me on the spot. I never grow tired of them, and love every track. "Song For Whoever" is what I like to think of as making lemonade out of lemons. My apologies to those of you who have dated girls with those names. I recently pulled off "Les Yeux Ouverts" because Elvira got tired of it. That's just a french cover of "Dream A Little Dream" from the film "French Kiss." I'm sure it will make another appearance in a few months. This particular version of "Song For Whoever" is not the one on my CD. It's an extended version that gets really boring at the end. Feel free to skip about the last two minutes of it.

There's your music lesson for today. Now everyone go do their homework.

Playlist, Pt. 1

I owe much of my playlist to Elvira and Pandora. For those of you who haven't visited Pandora.com, you are really missing out. Just type in the name of any song you like, and they will "create" a commercial-free radio station for you that you can listen to whenever you log on. It's amazing, and we've heard artists from all over the place that were completely unknown to us.

I had heard Imogen Heap's name, but had no idea who she was. Then I heard "Spooky" from the movie "Just Like Heaven" and "Can't Take It In" during the end credits of "The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe." I was hooked. The four tracks I have on my playlist are probably my favorites by her, but she's incredible on everything. If you really love her, she was in a duo called "Frou Frou" that had some great CDs out.

Jem is a find from Pandora. Her CDs are some of the few that I've actually bought, rather than downloaded. I listen to her nearly every day when I walk to work. "Wish I" and "They" are not always my most favorite (though I love them), but they are pretty catchy.

"40'" by Franz Ferdinand is one of Elvira's current favorites. I dare anyone to listen to it while they're unloading the dishwasher and not start dancing. Not physically possible.

Last, but not least, the Talking Heads. I'm one of the few people you'll ever meet that saw "Stop Making Sense" and "True Stories" for full price, in the theater, more than once each. Though I never got to see them live, I dearly love them. "Naive Melody (This Must Be the Place)" is the sweetest song about home that I know. It makes me happy to be part of my original family and the mom of my new one every time I listen to it.

So there's part one. I change the songs on my list nearly daily as I find new ones and get tired of old ones. I'd love any suggestions for new ones!

Paging Dr. House

So I said I would tell how the whole ENT thing went, but it's actually been "going" for a month now. I wouldn't normally go into great detail on here, but maybe someone reading has an idea that hasn't been thought of before and that I like better than the one I got today.

Okay, so last fall I mentioned the whole CT scan thing, but I failed to mention that it followed a month of nightly fevers with no explanation. Every night around 10:00 my fever would spike to somewhere between 101-103. Weird. No reason why, no other symptoms. A few little things going on, but nothing showed up on the CT scan.

Then, about three weeks after the fevers ended, my voice got really hoarse, which would be over two months ago now. A month later, I finally went to the doctor and lo and behold, stroke-level high blood pressure appeared out of nowhere. Still no voice. So the ENT did a laryngoscopy, which involves running a long, flexible scope with a fiber-optic camera through the nose and down the throat. I did get to see my vocal chords on a big screen, but then I had to shut my eyes. Too creepy. A month of blood pressure meds and Prilosec for non-existent heartburn that could theoretically cause the vocal chord thing, then back to the ENT, which brings us to today.

Apparently, one vocal chord is shorter than the other, which indicates a nerve problem. So I'm scheduled for a video stroboscopy, where they put a rigid scope down your throat and use a strobe light to visually isolate each vocal chord and study it. I'll be wide awake and expected to make sounds and not throw up all over them. Fat chance. Then more than likely an MRI to trace the nerves up to my head and see if there is a tumor at the base of my skull.

This brings us to the potential diagnosis that I'm not really too crazy about. I just got my hair to a length I really like, and am not too keen on shaving it off. So, since Gregory House is not available to take my case, any of you Junior Detectives are more than welcome to take a whack at it. Any ideas?

Rules of Engagement

All right, Peanut Gallery. I have read your comments and reviewed your messages on Facebook. This is how it works.

1. This is my blog, and I'm going to write whatever I feel like at the time. I will then edit, tweak, rewrite, and delete to my heart's content. I can do that, because I'm the boss of it.

2. I am not the Philosophy professor in the family--Sweetie is. I've never taken a logic class in my life, and I'm sure it shows. I majored in Advertising, which is basically propaganda. That's the perspective I'm coming from. Maybe I'm trying to convince you of something, or maybe myself. This is my lab and you and I are the cute little rats. Don't be offended--I'll never try to sell you anything I'm not at least thinking of buying myself.

3. I don't have to defend my choices in music. I happen to think I have rockin' good taste in my tunes. There is a pause button on the playlist, so please feel free to use it if you don't agree with me. If you have some suggestions of things I might like, I'll listen to every one of them. And I will probably do a post explaining why some things are on there.

That's it. Not too tough. Keep reading and commenting--I love hearing all of it!

On a Dime

I love my life. I whine a bit too much, but I really do love my life. Sweetie is a great guy, and all four of the munchkins rock my world. My house is tiny, but it will be paid off in the forseeable future. Our garden is a lot of work, but Sweetie does a fabulous job with it. He gets more out of it than I know what to do with. I don't know what I'm going to grad school for, but I can take classes for free while I decide. My family lives far away, but I still have all of them. My in-laws are the sweetest people on the planet. I work hard, but I have work.

I'm sorry I've been so petulant lately. As soon as I started reflecting on my life, the more nitpicky I became. I just need to get even busier so my brain can take a well-needed (though not well-deserved) break.

25 Things

I got tagged by a couple of people on Facebook to compile a list of 25 random things about me. Here is my list. I probably shouldn't have put #21 on there, but it's the truth, so on it went.

1. I was born in Germany. Because of a paperwork mixup, I had to be naturalized as a U.S. citizen. My dad never told me I had dual citizenship because I was so obstinate he thought I would choose the German. Or so the story goes ...
2. I first arrived in the U.S. when I was nearly two, by boat. There was a storm at sea and I fell and got a black eye. Even my passport photo makes me look like a war refugee.
3. When I was 11 I ran into a chain-link fence, cut my face to the bone, broke my nose, nearly ripped off the tip of it, and bled all over the place. The Army plastic surgeons fixed me up and now you can barely tell. I still could use a nose job. And about 20 other "tweaks."
4. I fell in love with Chicago when I was 13 and decided then and there to move there when I graduated from college. And I did.
5. I can install light fixtures all by my little own self.
6. I went all the way to Paris with my sister and grandmother and only got to the first level of the Eiffel Tower. We split an omelette three ways and went back down. Someday I'm going back and going all the way to the top.
7. A Chicago cab driver told me I looked like a Greek goddess at dawn. I don't, but it is my absolutely favorite compliment. I tipped him very well.
8. I went to a San Antonio parade in 1979 where a sniper opened fire right in front of us and shot a bunch of people. My dad gave me his Combat Infantry Badge because I had seen my first enemy fire.
9. Seattle is my favorite U.S. city.
10. London is my favorite European city.
11. I spent two weeks on a lake in Switzerland with my grandmother, sister, and mom. There were dreamy Italian waiters, feather beds, hot chocolate ...
12. I would love to be a published author.
13. I worked for a top 5 Chicago advertising agency.
14. I would love to learn Italian and French. So I can flirt with dreamy waiters.
15. I was pretty easy-going until I was pregnant with my first kid. Now I'm the mom who says, "You'll shoot your eye out."
16. I have always wanted to be a jazz pianist. Oscar Peterson is my idol.
17. I was on our marching band flag corps in high school. My boyfriend said the shorts made my legs look sexy.
18. I can sew, quilt, cross-stitch, smock, needlepoint, and knit. I just choose not to. Except knitting.
19. I am a very good cook. Or so my sister tells me.
20. I make gorgeous currant jelly.
21. I swear like a sailor in my head. And when I'm driving.
22. I hate clowns--passionately.
23. I'm the only one of my siblings without a masters degree. It makes me crazy, but they tell me I'm being stupid. Stop saying that! I'm working on it!
24. I feel guilty for nearly everything.
25. Hearing my kids laugh is the happiest sound in the world.

#25 is a little cheesy, but that one is true, too.