Purple Tinted Glasses

And so ends my four day free for all. It sure doesn’t feel like I should have to go to work tomorrow. I sure am tired of being a grown up. Today without a hangover would have been nice too.

For some reason on Thanksgiving day, Will couldn’t drive us to my mothers in the most direct path to save his life. I was accused of being contagious, what with all my absent mindedness floating about. I think I really am starting to rub off on my particularly smart and logical boyfriend (your face!).

I don’t know what all the fuss is about with the Friday after thanksgiving shopping either. We unintentionally wound up in a couple of different stores after buying our first full size, real Christmas tree for the house. Linens and Things, Pier One, Wold Market… all places I thought might be a little crazy were almost dead. Maybe we were there too late. It was, after all 10am. Most door buster deals are at 5am, so I hear.

Anyway, then the Molly Ringwalds played at Southport. Anyone who knows me well knows that even on a Tuesday night I don’t ever get home until after midnight. I strolled in Sunday morning in the wee hour of almost 5am. The show was fun. Everyone did a costume change at some point in the night. It made it interesting. Not that I need anything else to hold my interest… I just had to focus really hard on not slipping on the alcohol soaked floor in my three inch red heels.

So, 4:45ish isn’t a terrible time to roll in to bed, unless of course you HAVE to go to practice at 8am because you’re running it. No I didn’t choose this practice. I’m a TT captain and it was a TT practice, therefore… bleh. I warned the people in charge that I would be there, but I would be hung over. I totally held up my end of the deal. The alcohol didn’t start seeping out of my poors until about halfway through the practice when I started running around (off skates) to keep up with the skaters and offer feedback. I basically kicked the asses of the 15 or so people who actually showed up to practice today.

Anyway, then the Molly Ringwalds played at Southport. No I’m not repeating myself. There were no big crowds and sloshy floors. They were filming a new video and I think I got conned into being there earlier this week before I remembered that I’d be dealing with a day long hangover. It was open to anyone who wanted to come. In the end, there were more people on stage than in the crowd for the “crowd shots”. My waving and clapping hands are gonna be famous. Now if only I can find my hand twin… we’d make millions.

There was also an LSU game and a Saints game in there somewhere. Both were loses and I didn’t watch either game in its entirety anyway.

And this is where I begin to fade. I’m tired, but I thought of a clever blog title and even though I couldn’t come up with anything else clever or more meaningful to say except recounting this weekend’s schedule, I’m writing something anyway.

Now I’m going to get myself back on track with my piano practice, so nite-nite.

P.S. Completely random: I luv my puppy :) Even though I hate walking him first thing in the morning… and the sound of him licking himself grosses me out. He’s just being a dog. That’s what Will keeps saying.

I’m on Day 7 since I cracked open Alfred’s Basic Piano Library - Basic Adult Piano Course Book Level One, and put a full new set of batteries in the Yamaha PSR-2 (No, I swear there’s not a number missing from he model#… it’s just -2. I can’t even find a page to link to it, but there’s currently a PSR-3 on ebay for 25 bucks).

I have done at least 15 minutes a day for 6 of those (I think I skipped Sunday). I can warm up both my left and right hands, I can clap my beats and I know where the E is on the treble clef… I know, amazing, right?

How far is that in the book? Well, page 14. I dabbled with intervals tonight. The hardest part is that I know how to play some of these songs in the book (from when I’d sound out single notes as a kid), so forcing myself to learn the notes and where they are on the brace is my biggest challenge. (Look at me using fancy music words!)

I’ve been using online flash cards to help recognize notes and that has been like trying to get a 12 year old Sherri to practice spelling because I already knew it all (This turned out to be my first C ever and my only one until I got to college — it only got worse when in high school, I once again thought I could learn French without studying and brought home a midterm report card with a big fat “F” (and no, that’s not ‘F’ for French)).

I kind of understand enough to know that I have a lot to learn.

These days, I have my eye on this one. I’m pretty sure I’m not allowed to even THINK about it until I’ve made it to my 21 days and then some (according to some work “listening” seminar, it takes 21 days to form a habit). Oh, and when I have the bank account for it too.

Dog walking has become the first thing I do in the morning instead of the last thing I do before I leave the house. It holds me accountable for the number of times I press the snooze button instead of getting mad at the dog for making me late out the door. Well, I was still getting annoyed this morning because it was cold… and Boz wouldn’t just do his business.

I was fussing something at him like, “If you’re not gonna go, then we’re gonna go.” (I enjoy speaking to the dog as though he’s a small child that might one day understand and respond to all the complicated phrases that I ‘bark’ at him on a daily basis.) Anyway, as I’m walking down Dauphine, my eyes and mind concentrated on the dog doing doo-dooties, I look up and what do I see? Well, THE Oscar Meyer Weinermobile of course…

How random… in a historic neighborhood with stoops and wooden windows. My eyes lit up like a kid last Christmas morning (this year Santa’s mutual funds ate the big one and even though coal is much more affordable than last year, you won’t even get that in your stocking). I just laughed at myself because my crabby morning mood was crushed by a big yellow and red weenie! It’s definitely much more stimulating than the occasional faint sweet smell that drifts down from the Hubig’s Pie factory, but hey, that’s become the norm.

So maybe by my title, I found my muse… but for writing not painting. Here’s a short poem for those of you who are into that kind of stuff.

Primer

The prep work has started
the canvas sits blank
set up on it’s pedestal
anxious for the tickle of the tools.

The mediums are arranged
in their garden-like rows
sitting placidly dormant
preparing themselves for reincarnation.

A visual feast
is set to emerge
but the mind sits vacant
waiting for her muse to arrive.

The message below was sent to me which has sparked my interest in reviving my bloggy-blog thing. I can honestly say that I have not been happy with the things I have posted and the drafts that sit unpublished. I often times feel like I am forcing words on to the page just to have something to say. I guess that’s why I haven’t said much lately.

So much has been happening and I haven’t had the time or wherewithal to mention any of it. So here we go. Grab a shovel and dig in.

Accomplishments/Mentionings:

• I did the MS 150 last month. That was exciting. With hardly any training (see reason here) and on an alien blue bike, I made it through all 149 miles! Yes, I got SAG-ged for 1 mile because of a series of flat tires that nearly drove me off my rocker. I think I have finally regained all feeling that I lost in unmentionable places from that ride too. Special thanks to Will for sticking with me.

• I’ve played my first home game with my new team at our new venue, and we won.  I don’t particularly care for the new venue. It reminds me of a high school gym and smells like one too. I miss our flashy lights and being surrounded by quintessential New Orleans (Mardi Gras). We outgrew our home that all of our fans came to love. Now we just need to finish working out the kinks to get this one just as fabulous. Ibeatya painted banners, one for each home team and they are just amazing - as is she! We also need to sell tickets. They’re cheaper than they’ve ever been - $10. So, for those of you looking to do something this Sunday, Nov 9, you should come out and see the Big Easy Rollergirls’ Crescent Wenches and Story Villains duke it out. Centerpunch will be playing at half time and I have a feeling this is going to be one hell of a game.

• The house is CLEAN! It’s 30% my doing and 70% Will’s. I’m hosting some team meetings this week and next, which as Will says lit a fire under my ass to get some stuff put away.  We have company coming at the end of November anyway, but this just got me to focus on it sooner.

• I painted the back porch… all by myself! I’d like my gold star and my cookie now.

• I entered my late 20’s. This was #3 in a string of good birthdays. It felt really special this year and I have my other half to thank for the most of it. I also went to the DMV and officially became a New Orleanian. Bye bye Jefferson Parish.

• My house is rented… finally. The rent doesn’t cover the note, but I won’t be eating Ramen and mooching off friends for drinks… at least not as much as I was a month ago. The renter has also assured me that she is interested in purchasing in an undetermined amount of time. I guess I’ll save my official good riddance until then.

• I’ve been to an addition 2 or 3 Molly Ringwalds shows and have enjoyed all of them. One of them was even a festival down in… um… Well, I cant remember right now, but it was crazy and they were like rock stars out there. It was kind of weird. I had sworn off festivals because it just never is the same, but Sally and I made the trip for the sake of others’ sanity (sanities? saniti?)

• The rollergirls participated in the Voodoo Music Festival parade. We were officially “artists” for the day. Free drinks and back stage access is something that’s hard not to abuse.

• My best friend is having a BABY! I’ve been knowing forever and I’ve already been through the stages of denial: WHAT?! My friends can’t start having babies! No one can have babies! Babies are scary… but at least it’s you, not me. Ok, fine. You can have your baby, but you know the rule… Auntie Sherri doesn’t take them until they’re potty trained.

Ok, bored with me yet? Until next time… hopefully sooner than later.

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