This. This is what we should all be doing right now. We don’t do enough of this.
Go do this this week. You’ll thank me later.
This. This is what we should all be doing right now. We don’t do enough of this.
Go do this this week. You’ll thank me later.
Me (driving ): So that that is definitely the best buffet around here. What do you think?
Clifford (staring mindlessly at his phone): It was ok.
Me (driving): It was actually really pretty great. You didn’t think it was pretty great?
Clifford (looks at me): It was good.
Me (side-eyeing while driving): Just “okay”? Just “good”? But it’s the best. Don’t you think it’s the best one?
Clifford (sighing, rolling eyes, and looking at his phone again): Why are you asking my opinion if you’re telling me what to think? You’re asking a subjective question on one hand and then telling me your opinion is what I should share.
Me (exasperated): I’m not telling you to share my opinion. I’m stating facts. It is in fact the best buffet in the area.
Clifford (looking confused): So then why ask me my opinion?
Me (matter-of-factly): I’m trying to test your intelligence. Because it’s a fact this is the best buffet, I’m determining if you can assess that this is the best on your own, or if you need me to tell you what to think. Clearly the latter. It always seems like the latter …
It was … a while ago. My future sister-in-law was graduating high school. The one thing I was quickly learning as I became more attached to the Geiselmayr Clan was they knew how to throw a party. With a family composed of South Africans, an Austrian and a Pole, how could they not know how to throw a party?
Their big thing? A good old brai (or barbecue). But not in the sweet-tea-on-the-side-Southern-BBQ kind of way. A South African brai is essentially a meat roast of epic proportions and the preferred protein for this family for this event was lamb.
I had never had lamb. Yes, they have the Lamb Barn at the county fair where they sell lamb burgers and the like, but I don’t eat burgers, and lamb never stuck out as a must -have meat moment in my book.
In preparation of my future sister-in-law’s big day, I was tasked with assisting my future mother in-law and her in picking up the animal to be sacrificed for the sake of celebration (…and nourishment of our bodies???). Now mind you, I was maybe 19 or 20 years old at best. My experience in grocery shopping was very limited at this point in time. So when we showed up at Harry’s Farmer’s Market to get the lamb, I hadn’t really wrapped my brain around the idea that it was a whole lamb. Why not? I don’t know. I mean I’d been to hog roasts in my youth, but for some reason as the butcher brought forth the deceased swathed in white paper, I was a bit jarred. The lamb was easily the size of a small child. With its legs bound, sticking out forward and in back, I remember thinking, “this is how those movies start.”
After many stares from passersby and making it through the check-out line without incident, we headed to my future sister-in-law’s silver Volvo. We struggled with where to put the not so little guy. It wasn’t going to sit in the back seat with me – that was for damn sure. We had no rope or string or anything that could secure him to the roof (do people actually secure dead meat to the roof?), so the only real option was the trunk.
However, he didn’t quite fit in the trunk. So we carefully tried to make him fit.
But ultimately carefully lost to violently.
And then we were off. Making the twenty minute trek back home.
I remember laughing and chatting about the party. What we needed to do, how heavy the lamb was, would the homemade rotisserie hold it … we talked about guests arriving and then the next few moments were a blur. My future sister-in-law took a left turn onto the highway. I don’t know that it was the sharpest turn I’ve ever taken, but it was enough to shift the beast sitting in back from its (in hindsight) rather precariously stowed position to another … on the highway.
It looked like a dead body had just dropped from the back of her boot. Cars began swerving, yet they kept going. No one stopped. Now if I was behind a Volvo, or any motorized anything for that matter, that looked like it just tossed a corpse from its trunk, I’d like to think I’d pull over and I don’t know, investigate the situation further. Perhaps call the cops? But that must just be me because these drivers kept on trucking.
My future sister-in-law hastened her way to the next available u-turn allowing us to circle back and retrieve the cadaver from the road. She pulled over, but traffic wouldn’t stop. What is wrong with these people? Wrapped in the paper with its legs sticking out, the lamb LOOKED LIKE A DEAD BODY!!!??!!!
Anyway, my future in-laws exited the car while I sat staring in my pajamas in the back seat being pretty useless and contributing nothing. Did I forget to mention I was in my pajamas? This was supposed to be a quick early AM trip, and remember, I was a college student. Casual was the order of the day.
A truck finally pulled over behind us. A man hopped out, willing to help retrieve the carcass from the middle of the bustling roadway. You know, the carcass that actually looked like a dead human being haphazardly wrapped in torn butcher paper while getting plowed by cars and trucks left, right, and center.
After the lamb was retrieved from the highway, the man was kind enough to help toss it back in the trunk. For some reason, maybe because of the unexpected vehicular tenderization, he fit in the trunk a lot better this time around.
Oh, and yes, it totally looked like we were shoving a dead body into the back of her car once again. This time, not in the privacy of Harry’s parking lot, but in the great wide open for all the world to see. Nobody blinked an eye. Wow.
We got back to the house and unloaded that night’s dinner. I remember Clifford emerging from the garage to come and grab the lamb to prep it for the brai. He took a look at the mangled mass lying in the trunk and then looked at us as if we’d each grown three heads. We played it cool at first, like the butcher just sold it to us like that and nothing was out of the norm. Then Clifford saw the skid marks. The skid marks sold us out. Clifford was went from this …
To this …
To this …
We tried to explain what happened. Then we tried to add the positive spin that, you know, the meat might have a little more earthy goodness to its flavor, it was definitely tender now … and we assured him the heat would cook off the skid marks eventually. This was his response …
He didn’t buy it. I don’t blame him. He jerry-rigged the ribs back in place so it could rotate on the spit properly. But for what it’s worth, 12 hours later, that was some of the tastiest roadkill I think one could ever have.
For those of you who attended that party, you know what I’m saying.
It’s Stanley Cup time, folks! If you aren’t a hockey fan, you may not know what that is. The NHL equivalent of the Super Bowl is probably the best way to explain it. And if you don’t know what the Super Bowl is, I can’t help you. Likely nobody can.
Growing up in an area where the winter weather can often be likened to arctic tundra conditions, you’d think hockey would be a bigger deal. However, in my small little corner of the world, it wasn’t. There were fans, sure, but I lived in the Hoosier state. Basketball and Bobby Knight is what we knew, with a little football sprinkled in for good measure.
I always adored hockey. It’s like the best of every sport I love, but on ice. I would go to Komets games in Fort Wayne (that’s the city’s minor league team). And as much as I consider Notre Dame like a personal nemesis, I did follow their hockey team and attended games – maybe even pulled for them like once (out of sympathy of course). Now I can’t say I was so into hockey I had a definitive team (was always a Blackhawks AND a Penguins girl) or that I was a die-hard fan ready to beat the competition with a stick in the parking lot after a loss. Hockey’s just a sport I really enjoy watching, and watching live is way better than watching it on TV.
Anyone who knows me usually knows two things when it comes to sports– I prefer college leagues and my favorite team is whoever is playing Notre Dame. What they may not know is that my second favorite team is the Michigan Wolverines. Rewind to my senior year of high school. Michigan was coming off of winning the football National Championship. It was a beautiful thing. Spirits were high. The Wolverines were having a great year for most of their athletic teams if memory serves and the men’s hockey team was no exception.
My older sister was attending UM(I think she was maybe a junior at the time?). She had invited me up for a visit that spring. Guess who got lucky visiting the night of the NCAA Men’s Ice Hockey National Championship? That’s right. This girl. (not like I got lucky … I meant I was lucky by being there – get your minds out of the gutter!)
She took me to some friend’s house. I think it was a friend’s house. Could have been a frat house. Even though I was 18 and still in high school, the hockey game on the television occupied my mind more than the college campus location where we were about to watch the evening’s big event unfold.
It was an absolutely unbelievable game! Michigan vs. Boston College. Blue won in overtime. I remember everyone we were watching with jumping and screaming and tipping over the couch, spilling drinks and food as we fell on top of one another in celebration. The excitement didn’t stop there. We marched on the President’s House. I followed my sister and her friends’ leads. We walked from wherever we were on campus, through the streets to the quad, students emerging left right and center, screaming and cheering and singing Hail To The Victors. People were climbing light poles and swinging flags. It was like the largest impromptu block party I’ve ever seen. It was probably the coolest little sister moment I’ve ever had with my older sis. I remember thinking – why the hell do I want to go to art school when I could be a part of something like this?
I’ve forgotten over the years how much I love football, baseball and hockey. I’ve gotten away from just sitting back for a couple of hours and enjoying a game. It’s time to get back to those roots. I’ve watched every game of the Stanley Cup I could this year and am prouder than ever the Hawks are about to win it all (like tonight, because I have total faith it’s only going to be a six game stretch). However, I will never have a sports fan moment that beats being in Michigan on that fateful day in 1998 when my team won that championship.
Watch the Hawks take the cup tonight! The Bolts won’t know what hit them. It will be well worth it, I promise!
I was never one to really spend money on music growing up. I enjoyed music and still do, but I was never a groupie or a follower of a particular singer, song writer or band (other than Aerosmith and The Beatles). My love of music stopped at purchasing a cassette single or eventually a CD here or there. I spent my money on movies and doing stupid stuff. Not necessarily money wiser spent, but that’s life.
I’m also a person who would attend a concert for entertainment. I want to see an incredible performance. I’m about showmanship. I want an experience. Say what you will about her, but Madonna is a performer not a singer in my book. A concert she produces would be worth my time and money. As much as I love a musician unplugging here or there, I do not want to pay well upwards of $75-$100 to watch someone sit on a stool for two hours knocking out acoustic versions of their top hits. I mean, I’m watching them sit on a stool for two hours… Not my cup of tea and a waste of money in my book. And you can totally forget it if it’s a concert filled with nothing but new music. I paid to hear what I already know, not some experiment you’re running on an unsuspecting crowd to test your creative juices which in a lot of cases pale in comparison to your earlier career successes.
Over the years though, I have made it to a few concerts and when I hear one of the musicians’ songs on the radio, it takes me back to those moments.
Adding to The Music Challenge, songs from all of the concerts I ever attended:
My first concert ever was in the Grand Stands at the Elkhart County Fair. My grandparents listened to Ray Stevens. My mother listened to Ray Stevens. His music played often throughout my house and when he came to the county fair, we were all over that like white on rice. The man and his music are witty, funny, and totally entertaining.
70. Ray Stevens, The Streak (1974)
My first concert with friends was an Audio Adrenaline concert at Epworth Forest in Indiana. Remember them? Youth group teens everywhere flocked to this one. I remember I bought my first concert shirt there. It was orange.
71. Audio Adrenaline, Big House (1993)
Most people know by now that Dave Mathews was originally from South Africa. This is why I think my husband and sister-in-law were such big fans. They went to the Dave Mathews concert at the Lakewood Amphitheater every year. When Clifford and I started dating, a ticket was bestowed upon me as well. Other than Ants Marching, I had no clue what the hell he was playing. It was all new music and it sounded terrible, not like the Dave Mathews music people had paid to hear played. It was my least favorite concert experience.
72. Dave Mathews Band, Ants Marching (1993)
I was SO psyched to see Art Garfunkel in concert! He played at the SCAD Theater in Savannah. He was wonderful and I am just so happy I can say I saw him live. It was beyond what I thought it would be.
73. Art Garfunkel, Bridge Over Troubled Waters (1970)
SCAD started this free New Alumni concert in Forsyth Park in Savannah the year Clifford was graduating. They chose George Clinton as their inaugural musician. Of all of the concerts I have ever been to, this was the surprise. I LOVED it! I never considered myself a fan of funk, but boy can George Clinton and his peeps Turn. It. Out. I have a whole new appreciation for the genre. Now a funk song is always included on my top ten jams list.
74. George Clinton and Parliament Funkadelic, Give Up the Funk (1977)
There is something about this man that draws me to him and his music. He’s been compared to Freddie Mercury, and maybe that’s the hook that always keeps me coming back for more. In 2007, my sister and I took one of our youth group girls to see him in concert at Center Stage (formerly Earthlink Live!) in Atlanta. You want to talk about showmanship? Performance? Yeah, and he’s sexy as hell? Everyone should take time to see Mika in concert at least once in their life.
75. Mika, Relax, Take It Easy (2006)
I’ve already posted about my Styx experience, I think, but essentially my dad had gotten Chelle and I track seats at the Elkhart County Fair to see them. It was fantastic! They were fun and light and just utterly sensational. Their energy was off the charts! I’d wanted to see Styx in concert for years, and it was sort of neat to be able to see them playing back near my hometown actually.
76. Styx, Come Sail Away (1977)
This was the concert that I won tickets to through the Mark Arum radio show in Atlanta. It was at the Verizon Amphitheater. I took my younger sister and it was such a beautiful night. Loved every minute of it.
77. Boston, More Than A Feeling (1976)
As I was watching the Stanley Cup last night while working on my laptop. Clifford sits down with a bowl of cereal and watches the screen. He sat quietly just eating his cereal for a moment and then switched from hockey to some A&E crime show.
After about 10 minutes, he suddenly turned to me and said, “I just want you to know that no matter when or how I go, I’ve designed it and put a plan in place where it looks like you killed me. I want the cops to think it was all you.” Then he turned back to his show and continued to eat his cereal.
I will be adding a few songs to The Music Challenge this week. All relating to senior year and graduation as a companion piece to Monday’s post.
Here we go …
65. The Senior Pep Rally that I may have mentioned before – a large group of us tried to learn the dance from the Will Smith video. We dressed in white button down shirts and black ties with sunglasses and the whole shebang. I remember rehearsing whenever we could squeeze in a few moments. I also remember flailing about and failing miserably. I am not only tone deaf, but I have no rhythm. I am the least musically inclined individual in the world. But hey, humiliating yourself in front of the entire student body for the good of the collective should be on everyone’s bucket list.
Will Smith, Men In Black (1997)
66. Sticking with the Will Smith train, this song takes me to our annual Spring Fling (a day of school spent in the great outdoors wherein 7th -12th grade classes competed against one another in a myriad of various silly and athletic contests. So basically a required day of attendance, but spent with friends goofing around on school grounds while tanning ourselves- and maybe winning at something). This Spring Fling was circa 1998. A small few represented our senior class in the good old Lip Sync Competition. I can’t remember if we won.
Will Smith, Miami (1997)
67. This makes me crack up every time I hear this song and it’s totally not a funny song. AT. ALL. It’s one of my favorite songs from back in the day, but it’s the context in which it was used that makes me laugh. Our video team, bless their hearts, used it as part of the soundtrack to our senior video (a VHS montage of various classmates grinning and doing stupid stuff to the melodramatic musical stylings of the 1990s). The reason this one cracks me up is because though on a shallow level listen, one might think the song is about reminiscing Freshman year and how fast times flies, etc. (which is likely why it was used in the video), but on closer inspection it’s actually about a dude remembering his girlfriend’s suicide with an implied abortion entered into the mix. Like I said – NOT. FUNNY. AT. ALL. Probably shouldn’t have been the background music to moments of mad antics, but alas, it is what it is and that is where this song takes me.
The Verve Pipe, The Freshmen (1996)
68. I love Green Day. I loved Green Day back when they were brand spanking new. I particularly love this song. It was sung by our senior choir at graduation and whenever it plays, I think about being on those risers in the gymnasium with my fellow classmates singing it to our friends and families all over again.
Green Day, Good Riddance (1997)
69. This song sums up the area in which I grew up. We kept religion in our little Podunk public school long past the point of political correctness. I’m pretty proud of that. It was sung by my classmates and me at the end of our graduation ceremony. It was actually a rather contrived cheesy moment, but it was put forth would good intentions, and again, defied the laws of the land in a public school setting.
Michael W. Smith, Friends (1987)