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Okay, so last Tuesday night I finally went to see Duran Duran in concert. Let me say this...TOTALLY WORTH THE WAIT!
No lie, this was quite possibly the greatest show I had ever seen. And believe me, for guys who have been doing this for 30 years and well in to their 50's, this show just could not have been any better.
No, wait. I'm lying. The opening act was some weird chick. I had never heard of her but it was her and a glorified Karaoke machine on the stage that CLEARLY no one bothered to do a sound check on. It was the loudest, most offensive noise I had ever heard. All I kept thinking was that if this lone person is THIS loud, how much worse is the band going to be.
Luckily it was just her and her annoying box because when the FIVE PIECE band came on, with an additional saxophonist and backup vocalist, the sound was amazing.
Here's a cool observation about going to a concert as an older adult: the crowds are nicer and much more well organized. Now granted, the DPAC is not a huge venue (approx. 3,000 seats) but we never felt crowded or that we were caught up in the throngs of people. Honestly, from the parking of the car to leaving after a wildly impressive show, everything was really well organized.
Our seats were good and next time I will invest in spending a little more and getting as close to the stage as possible because they really interacted with the crowd down front. They played all of their classics and some of the new stuff and played a solid two hours. GREAT, GREAT night. I was extra blessed because my girlfriend Krista was just as huge of a fan as I am and so we were extra giddy and silly and just had an amazing night.
Getting up for work the next day, however, was no easy task. As I told my bosses as I dragged myself to my desk, I wasn't so much Hungry Like the Wolf as I was tired like the dog.
Thank you, Duran Duran, for making the 30 year wait to see you well worth it. Rock on!
When I was growing up, I only knew one friend who was an only child. We spent a lot of time together; I practically lived in her house over the summer. She was a little self-centered and selfish, kind of mean at times but for the most part, I didn't overly concern myself with those traits because she was my friend.
As an adult when you know someone who grew up as an only child, those traits are BLAZINGLY obvious to the point of being painful.
Case in point, we (Frank and I) are friends with a couple where the husband is an only child. The man dominates every conversation, he'll cut off whatever is being talked about for the sake of being heard. He is loud, offensive and basically, when he does not get his way he will go in to a major pout and then threaten to leave.
A pouting, whining 50 year old man is not something anyone should have to see and really, he should be ashamed of himself. He is married and he and his wife have only one child.
She is the devil.
She is the reason that I refuse to go their home anymore. She is the reason I do not invite them to my home anymore. At age 6 I have watched her have her parents jumping through hoops at midnight because she wants something to eat, drink, etc. or because she wants to watch TV RIGHTNOW! And these idiots do it!
I understand that clearly this type of child-rearing is all this guy knows; he was a spoiled brat so obviously, his child is going to be one, too. I can only imagine what it's like in that house for his poor wife when these two want something at the same time!
There's another adult only child in my life and while I love this person to pieces, I have to limit the time I spend with her otherwise I get mean. I've reacted badly to some of her behavior and while I know I was justified, the pouting that went on and the snit that followed were just ridiculous.
How do you make someone who grew up as the center of attention everywhere they went and who was taught that they are the only people in the world that matters see that as an adult, it's not all about them? These people make lousy friends, neighbors, co-workers - you name it! And yet I seem to be surrounded by them.
Makes for a pretty miserable day sometimes...
This show on HGTV has become one of my new favorites. Each episode features a family/house where the spouse's are divided on whether or not they are going to stay in the house or sell it. It's actually pretty funny hearing what divides people on this decision and why some people want to actually STAY in a house that clearly isn't working for their family.
The "hosts" of the show are a riot. Hillary is an interior designer and it is her job to do the make-over on the house using the budged that the couple provides and actually give them all of the must-haves that the spouse who wants to sell gives them - thus making them "love" the house again.
David is a realtor whose job is to find the couple a new home with all of the must haves that the spouse who doesn't want to sell gives him and make it work in the budget that the couple gives them.
You would not believe the issues that come up each week. It's a little predictable. Inevitably, Hillary is going to dig in to a very ambitious home renovation (walls will be knocked down, rooms will be stripped down to the studs) and then BAM! Something happens that stalls the entire project and some of those must-haves will get crossed off of the list due to no money in the budget.
Then there's the new house hunt. David will look in the "wrong" area and the couple won't consider it or the spouse who doesn't want to sell will be so obnoxious about knit-picking every aspect of the houses they're shown that you want to smack them.
Predictable and yet I can't turn away! Monday night, 9 p.m. on HGTV. If nothing else, you'll probably relate the these couples and try and figure out in the end if you'll love it or list it!
So Michael's taking a class this semester called Exploring Career Decisions and they do all kinds of things in it and not all of them are about career's. They are doing the Red Cross babysitting course and they are learning about responsibility by making a flour baby.
Yes, a flour baby.
We are transforming a five pound bag of flour in to a baby. I had to buy a sleeper, some material and poly-filler (?) to make it's head and fill out its body. This was NOT an inexpensive project. Besides those objects we needed safety pins, rubber bands, a Sharpee, masking tape...I mean, all of this for a baby that he's going to carry around for a week.
Seriously, couldn't I just buy a doll?
I'll post pictures when it's complete.
It was either this or carrying around an egg for a week. He felt safer with the five pound bag of flour dressed as a faceless baby. Go figure.
So on Saturday Frank and I were trying to decide what we wanted for lunch. Michael was out and it was just the two of us and we decided that we really wanted some sandwiches.
I make FANTASTIC sandwiches.
It comes from growing up int he deli business.
So I send him to Harris Teeter to get some Boars Head rare roast beef, some fresh Kaiser rolls and some provolone. I write it all down including the instructions that the roast beef be sliced THIN. I'm a freak about that. For some reason, stores down here feel the need to slice their meat in slabs.
I do NOT enjoy that.
He goes to the store, comes back and I head to the kitchen to create sandwich masterpieces. The first issue? NOT sliced thin. I commented on this to him and he was like "It IS thin! The guy gave me a slice to taste." Okay, fine. Clearly we have different ideas on what is thin and what's not. Fine. I make his sandwich - and it was beautiful - and bring it out and present it to him.
It just continued down hill from there.
I go back to make MY sandwich and I go in to the roast beef and it's really NOT rare and after taking off of the second slice, it was all fat! It was disgusting. I was beyond pissed. So I told Frank that I would pick through and get what I could but then I am going back to the Teeter and complaining and getting my money back. He thought I was crazy.
I am.
But 2 hours later I stood at the customer service desk with my bag o beef and got DOUBLE my money back! At $13 a pound, that was a wonderful surprise. I'm not going to lie, I did feel a little petty when she handed me that money back but then I did a major food shopping (NOT in the deli department!) and more than made up for returning the beef.
I don't do stuff like this often but I believe in getting what you pay for and if you let places get away with overcharging you for something that isn't edible, their service will never improve.
I'll get down from my soap box now.
Today Frank and I celebrate 21 years of marriage. We've been together a total of 23 years and I can honestly say that we are still in love after all this time.
Marriage is hard work. There have been many, many fights, many tears and many times that I just thought it was too hard. But when emotions simmer down and you take some time to truly think about what's important, you realize that having someone to love who loves you for who you are - no matter how big of a brat you are being - well, that's just about the greatest thing in the world.
I know that I probably say it every year on our anniversary and so I will say it again; God did not bless me with great wealth or a successful dream career but He blessed me with a great marriage to a man who makes me laugh and smile every day and who gave me two amazing children.
That makes me a truly blessed woman.
Thank you, Frank, for an amazing 21 years of marriage. You are my greatest love, my knight in shining armor and I don't know where I'd be without all of the love and laughter you have brought in to my life. Thank you for loving me unconditionally and helping me realize that no matter what other people may think of me, that I am okay. Your acceptance of me means more that you will ever know; I never knew such a relationship could exist. I love you and I am excited to face many more anniversaries with you!
No, not foot danger for everyone, just for me. Honestly, if something is going to happen to me, it's going to happen to my foot first. And you know what's weird about that? I don't have obnoxiously big feet! Seriously, I'm a size 8; fairly average, and yet, things happen to my feet all the time.
Back when Nick was a baby, boiling water spilled while I was draining pasta. Where? My foot. Fell on the ice as a teen, broke my ankle. Don't even get me started on why Frank is no longer allowed to push the shopping cart while we're food shopping!
So we go to the mall and we get out of the car and we're walking across the parking lot and Frank steps on my heel (ouch!) and I walk right out of my flip flop and almost fall on my face. So I yell, I scream, I remind him that my feet are NOT ginormous as I slip my foot back in to the shoe and I think, okay, we're good.
An hour later I am in Bath & Body Works and I've got a 16 oz. bottle of Coke in my purse that I hadn't finished from lunch. Not paying too much attention to it, I bend over to look at some yummy smelling sugar scrubs and BAM! Coke bottle falls out of my purse, cap first and lands on the top of my foot. It was about 3/4 of the way full. I refrained from crying out but within a minute I have a large lump that is quickly turning purple.
Lovely.
So here I sit, back at home, ice pack on my foot.
This is just ONE of the reasons I don't go to the mall more often...
