Lord, to be thirty-three forever.

So,  Monday was my 33rd birthday.  I spent it doing laundry.  I know, exciting.  The thing about birthdays after thirty is they seem a little less like a celebration and a little more like an acceptance of the ageing process.  Doesn’t exactly make you want to eat cake.

Truth be told, I went to see a new band, The Dexateens, Thursday night and had dinner with my husband and sister and an old friend.  It was nice to see Thomas, who was always my favorite college friend, and the show was killer.  So laundry was not the only thing I did to celebrate 33.

I have also been reading a lot to prepare to NaNoWriMo.  I have purposely been trying new authors and straying from my usual genres to try and expand my ideas.  No clue what I’ll be writing yet though.  I’m thinking fantasy, although that could change about a hundred times between now and the first of November.

Oh, and the big tree at the end of my street is beginning to change color!  Fall is here!  Hurray!

NaNoWriMo…

So, I have signed up for insanity month, also known as National Novel Writing Month.  Every November, people who are clearly gluttons for punishment, sign up to spend a month attempting to write a 50,ooo word novel.  No kidding, November.  In the midst of Thanksgiving and Christmas shopping and family obligations they agree to write a novel, from scratch, on-line.  And now I am one of them.

The thing is, I enjoy writing but I have never once finished anything I’ve ever started.  I’m terrible about outlines and planning.  What I am good with are ideas, I just can’t seem to make myself sit down and think them through.

Hell, I can’t even finish a blog post…

Next Weekend

I’ll be watching football.

Me at 13, musically speaking that is.

I drove to work this morning like me from 1989.  No, not driving like an idiot 13 year-old, everyone knows I drive like an old lady.  I mean listening to a mix of pre-Losing My Religion REM.  My first love, musically speaking.  My parents raised me on a combination of sixties power-pop (mom) and classic country (dad) but REM was my first self-expression of musical interest.  I loved them the way my fellow thirteen-year-old girlfriends loved New Kids On The Block (some still do, Kris, you know I’m talking about you).  I never covered my walls in their posters, maybe because you couldn’t exactly find photos of Michael Stipe in Tiger Beat, but I knew every lyric of every song long before “It’s The End Of The World” hit MTV.

Looking back, I’m sure that R.E.M. was my personal gateway drug into the world of underground/indie/alt/whatever music.  It led to some more main-stream stuff, Counting Crows and Bare Naked Ladies, but it also led me early on to They Might Be Giants and The Smiths.  Maybe I wasn’t introduced to Uncle Tupelo until I met my husband almost nine years ago, but I had a good foundation already.

I Hate Tuesdays

Just in case anyone was wondering…

You Shoulda Been Rockin’!

Two weeks ago we went to see Vulture Whale play up in Fayetteville and then at White Water the next night.  They brought the rock.  Some friend’s of Murray’s from his music-geek list traveled from Iowa and Georgia to see the show and I was struck once again at how nice all the people who listen and play indie-underground-alt rock are.

The thing is, I have friends who pay $60 and $80 for a ticket to see a band, say Jimmy Buffett or (insert name of random popular country music artist here) to sit 50 rows back and barely be able to see the stage.  At White Water I payed $5, stood right up at the stage, and got to hang out and chat with the members of one of my favorite bands after the show.

So this weekend we are going to Fayetteville to see the Drive-By Truckers and then next Tuesday it’s back to White Water for Glossary/Slobberbone.  You keep your so-called popular music, I’m quite happy supporting real music.

Short post…

Okay, add these bands to your list of bands you most likely are not cool enough to ever have heard of but should listen to anyway:

Vulture Whale

Centro-matic

The Dexateens

Go on, Google them and listen.

While you were away I chewed your shoes and used all of your toothpaste.

Some days I wonder if anyone else had as random thoughts as I tend to have.  It’s more than just my general lack of any sort of an attention span.  For instance, there is ALWAYS music running through my head.  This morning, in the shower, it was “How Much Is That Doggie In The Window” and now it’s “Reconstruction Site”.  There is absolutely no rhyme or reason to what gets stuck in my head.

Then there are the random thoughts.  My mind wanders continuously.  I think thing like, “Hmm, I wonder if Willy Wonka’s elevator ever landed” or “Exactly how does the internet find my iphone?”  I think about baseball and somehow end up pondering the fuel efficiency on my 1976 Buick Regal I drove in high school.

Heat Madness

Anyone who lives in the South knows it.  Each summer it strikes with the onset of hot and humid days.  When the heat index creeps over 105 people start to lose their minds.  Tempers flare, insanity takes over the public conscience, and the only remedy is a trip to the lake or a cold front.

Southerners are renowned for their manners and friendliness, but I suppose that is mostly because Northers don’t visit during July and August.  The higher the mercury climbs the ruder the population gets.

This is my ninth summer in the medical clinic I work for and every year we see the onset of the heat bring temper-tantrums and general hysteria.  Even in the super-chilled air of the clinic patients are rude and whiny and angry.  Less actual illness, more irritability.

I’m always happy when September comes.

Hello world

Haven’t blogged in days. Just can’t find anything interesting to say, I guess. Wrapped up in College World Series.