Rock Therapy

Spent Friday night at a really cool music venue in Charlotte called The Visulite. Way too smoky, but that's the breaks in North Carolina where smoking is not only legal in public places - it's pretty much encouraged.

Earl Greyhound's the name of the band (The Parlor Mob opened and rocked, too.) This three-piece group out of Brooklyn oozes style and really loud music. How can you not love a band with a tubby black drummer in pimp shades, a guitarist who looks like Jesus and a bass-playing chick with an afro straight out of SoulTrain?

After the week I had, thank goodness for loud music.

Cap and Gown Time

Would you skip your college graduation to make a political statement? That's what some students and about 30 faculty at Furman University in South Carolina are doing tomorrow because President Bush will be their commencement speaker. Others plan to stand and display "We Object" t-shirts as he speaks. I'll be there watching it all. Which is funny because I actually did skip my own graduation. It wasn't for a political statement. It was because I was lazy and have never been big on pomp and circumstance. I think I've sat through enough graduation speeches since then to make up for it. Tomorrow I'll add another notch to my belt.

Incidentally, it amuses me to think of all the English language and grammar grads at Furman who will have to listen to President Bush earnestly slaughter the language at their graduation. I suppose when the Leader of the Free World offers to give a speech, people say "Yes, thank you!". . . even if speaking isn't exactly his forte.

Wired

This is my new guilty pleasure.

SunDrop's a southern soda. At least I never saw it out West. Tastes like the lovechild of Mountain Dew and Sprite - citrusy and refreshing. I was already to start drinking it daily until I did a quick Internet search on it this morning and discovered why I became such a quick fan: Diet SunDrop has more caffeine than any other soda on the market - including the infamous Diet MtDew. It has a whopping 23 milligrams more than Diet Coke.

Late this afternoon I was still feeling the effects of the one I drank for breakfast. Southerners make potent stuff. . . just imagine what their moonshine must be like.

I Love My Church Assignment!

Tonight with the girls from church, we used games based around the 13 Articles of Faith as an excuse to get them all hopped up on sugar. I pity their parents who will surely struggle getting them settled down for bed tonight. But we had such fun!

And I was reminded how helpful the Articles of Faith can be in answering that question "What do Mormons believe, anyway?"

Tricky as that question may feel at times, it's nothing compared to the story of a woman I met recently who was raised in the Unification Church (aka the Moon Cult that holds mass weddings in Madison Square Gardens) and later converted to Mormonism. Now that's a story.

Sunshine Pie

This is my contribution to a Memorial Day barbecue I'm headed off to in a few minutes. It's my famous lemon meringue recipe and I hope it tastes as perfect as it looks!

I figured it would be the perfect addition to a party on a summer holiday when the sun won't quit shining. And the best part is the sun is still shining now as I leave work! I'm off to enjoy it for the last few hours of the day with a barbecue at a friend's house. Or rather a cook out. Down South barbecuing is what you do to seasoned meat over just the right heat. Getting together to eat the barbecue is "cooking out."

It's a whole new lexicon for me here in Charlotte - and with just the right accent, it may as well be a different language entirely.

Happy 35th!

Thirty-five years ago today my parents wed in the LDS Temple in Los Angeles. A year and a few months later, I was born (see photo). Within eight years, Frank and Dee Dee had themselves a passel of five, a mortgage on a starter home, grad student loans piling up and some pretty hefty responsibilities at church.

Now I'm not privy to the inner details of their marriage, but I can say that as a kid closely watching their every move, I knew without a doubt they loved each other. And I knew that when they did have disagreements, they wouldn't yell or stomp out of the room. They would close themselves off in their bedroom and speak in low, yet urgent, tones until they had resolved the dispute. That's just one of life's lessons I learned by watching my parents.

For thirty-five years, they've been selfless with each other - and with us. Even the way they celebrate their anniversary proves my point. They've never even called it an anniversary. Rather it's "our family birthday." They never asked for presents or applause from us kids. Instead, they would include us in the anniversary celebration - a family picnic, dinner at a restaurant, a rented movie and cheese popcorn.

As an adult I now realize how selfless that was. The one day my parents had every excuse to get a sitter and call the time their own, was the day they made a point of gathering us around and planning something fun for the whole family. Remarkable.

Happy Family Birthday Mom and Dad.

Campus Life

University of North Carolina-Chapel Hill was founded in 1789, when Revolutionary War types were still walking around in their coattails and three-pointed hats. I've been here the last 48 hours for meetings, and my is it a lovely campus with its restored buildings and red-brick walkways.

I'm tempted to drop by the admissions office and see about graduate school. But then I remember how that would mean tuition, homework, group projects. . . and I think I'll settle for the occasional campus visit.

Diamond Does It

If you're even just a minor fan of Neil Diamond, I recommend you take a listen to his new album "Home Before Dark." It's got everything you love in his classic tunes - melodic, easy to sing along with, slightly cheesy, often anthemic. I jogged to it this morning.

And how great is it that after all these years of touring and having other people cover his music, he's finally got a #1 album on the charts?

David v. David

American Idol is a contrived piece of television trash that has nothing to do with quality music. And yet I've seen nearly every episode this season - please don't ask me why because I'm at a loss to explain. I gripe and groan and roll my eyes through every show. I mock the judges. I stomp around the house in anger when America inevitably chooses another loser to survive the cut.

But you know how you can only take a person's complaining so long before you just want to punch her in the stomach and tell her to get a grip or do something about it already? I hit that point tonight and for the first time EVER, I actually voted in American Idol. Or rather, for the first time every, I actually attempted to vote for an entire hour but the lines were busy.

I wasn't voting because I like either of the Davids. I'll never buy the albums they're bound to record on the heels of Idol fame.

Still, given the chance to vote for a vanilla rocker over a cheesy, falsetto-voiced kid who reminds me of the Sunshine Generation (it's a Utah thing), I felt I had to do my part for the world of rock.

Besides, rocker boy ended with a Collective Soul tune and can actually play an the guitar. Even if I had gotten through on the phone, I imagine my votes would have been in vain - treacly pop is bound to win in the end.

The best outcome would be if both Davids lost and we stopped wasting our time with this overwrought musical nonsense.

Where's Wooster?

Does anyone remember when this guy was just the goofy, trust fund buffoon of the British comedy Wooster and Jeeves? It was my favorite series on PBS growing up and even prompted me to read scores other British humorists.

Now I'm a huge fan of HOUSE, but I do miss the days when Hugh Laurie played nice guys.

They're Hugging!

When my younger sister was little, she got all excited on a family vacation when she spied a couple of cows in a pasture by the freeway "hugging." None of us who knew better bothered to correct her. Later when my sister learned about the birds and bees, she figured out what those cows had really been up to.

Nowadays whenever we see animals in amorous embrace, we elbow each other and call out for everyone to "Look at those animals hugging!"

It's juvenile and probably inappropriate for a family-friendly blog. But it's the first thing I thought when I nearly stepped on these two lizards in the middle of the sidewalk at the trailhead on Saturday. If there hadn't been kids everywhere, I probably would have drawn more attention to them. As it was, I think I embarrassed my hiking companion by insisting on a photo.

Call me crass, but Sis, these hugging lizards are for you!

Hiking

I've been missing the mountains something fierce - and mostly it's the easy access to hiking. Something about trekking up a hill puts things in place for me. But good hiking spots are so easy to find around here. Finally yesterday a friend took me to a place about 30 miles away with a nice two mile climb up to this overlook. We sat on some craggy rocks on a little bump of a hill in a sea of trees and ate trail mix. I expected to be able to see roads, buildings and other landmarks I recognized. We couldn't see anything but trees - not even the trail we came up on or the main road leading to the trail head. It was really disorienting and makes me wonder how birds ever manage to find their nests around here.

It also makes me think I should take up tree climbing rather than hiking. Then I could just amuse myself with the monster of a tree right in my own front yard.

Quintuplets!

Say hello to my new additions!

Basil (x2), Parsley, Rosemary and Mint.
Expecting Cilantro any day now.

If you're thinking of sending gifts for the little ones, better do it quick because my track record keeping plants alive isn't great. But this is my first attempt at an herb garden in a climate that's not bone dry, so maybe I'll find my green thumb in the humid South.

And then I'll make some tasty salads!

Appreciating Nature

Nature Appreciation was the theme of our activity night with the girls from church. We talked about photosynthesis and capillary action. I showed them the white carnations I turned pink, blue and green after a few days in water dyed with food coloring.

Yes, we could have simply taken a walk around the building to examine the trees and shrubs but (a) 8-11 year old girls are very energetic and I was sure we'd lose one of the thirteen the minute we left the building, and (b) I wanted to play Mr. Science with the dyed carnations and stuff. So we geeked out, instead.

Then we made lovely little bookmarks with leaves and flowers I got from the park and pressed in a book under my bed.

Lessons from Today's News

Today started with a parking structure collapsing near a ritzy shopping mall in Charlotte. The photos were dramatic, so the TV stations went to nonstop breaking coverage - even after they discovered to their great dismay that NO ONE had been injured, nor had any vehicles been damaged. It's just not nearly as fun for those drama-queen TV-types if there's no blood and wreckage.

Then comes this dreadful news: Two women in a Honda cut off a cement truck on the freeway. The truck can't slow down fast enough and plows into the car; then starts to dump cement onto the wreck. It takes 20 rescuers with shovels to dig the women out. They died. Never, ever cut off a cement truck.

And finally this. A postal worker in a town a few hours away has been doing some serious slacking. A nosy meter-reader alerted officials when he saw piles of undelivered mail on the guy's deck. I just wonder what was so important the mailman opted out of a big part of his delivery route each day. Maybe he just got tired of making that last loop around the block and preferred to stop at the grocery store for some candy. That's why my younger sisters started tossing the last of their newspapers in the dumpster. Granted, it was the free nickel paper in town, so they probably figured nobody would miss it. And those papers were awfully heavy in those grimy sacks slung over their tiny shoulders. And with the money they were earning on the daily route, they could buy an awful lot of candy. They were smarter than the mailman though, cause the never got caught.

Incidentally, right now is the perfect time to start claiming you sent me a killer care package in the mail, since you've got the perfect alibi when it doesn't arrive.

And finally, in local bargain news. I went to the thrift store looking for a 60s style macrame plant hanger, which I didn't find. But I got these fabulous vintage playing card sets that still have the scent of cigarettes and peanuts from that final bridge game before their owner died and the girls stopped getting together afternoons at two.

Eaten Alive

I haven't seen what's eating me yet, so I can't say for certain what it is. Mosquitoes, I presume? I woke up this morning to a half dozen itchy bumps which I've now converted into welts with a full day of aggravated scratching. I know, I know. Scratching only releases the poison and makes it itch more. And then the skin breaks and a scab forms and that's how you end up covered in tiny scars. Scratchy habits die hard.

I just think it's strange that I'm getting eaten by mosquitoes and I have yet to see one. I didn't spend any time outdoors yesterday. And I didn't have the bites when I went to bed. Which leads me to believe the buggers are either getting through the window screens, living in my house invisibly or NOT MOSQUITOES AT ALL.

Could I have bed bugs? I just barely changed the sheets, so I really want to believe it isn't so. And yet, of all the creepy crawlies that might plague me here in the South, I'll take mosquitoes in the closet, earwigs in the sink, silverfish in the tub - even the occasional cockroach in the kitchen. I WILL NOT TOLERATE BED BUGS.

Pray there are no more bites tomorrow morning, or there will be blood.

To the Mothers I Love

When I was a kid, mothers used to wear corsages at church on Mother’s Day. You don’t see that much anymore, it seems. But man, was that the thing in our house. Since I’m the oldest and bossiest, I was in charge of pooling our pennies and leading our little band over to the grocery store where they had a whole booth of cheap corsages for Mother’s Day. In a rare show of solidarity, I can’t remember us ever arguing over which one to pick. There really weren’t many choices, though. All had big single blooms of orchid or iris resting on a bed of pastel netting with a starchy little bow. We figured the bigger and gaudier the better. Purple was best, since that was Mom’s favorite color. Actually, I’m not sure it was, but it seems like we believed it at the time. And she wore that corsage proudly all through the meeting. The little old ladies would come up and pinch our cheeks, telling us what a lovely flower we’d given our mom and aren’t we lucky to have her. “Yep,” we’d say, squirming away from their wrinkled fingers and stale scent.

I don’t remember when we stopped getting her a corsage for Mother’s Day. Probably around the same time if fell out of style or we were earning enough money to realize a $4 corsage was a lame way to say “I Love You, Mom.”

These days we’re a family of mothers, excluding me. All of my sisters and my one sister-in-law have given birth and generously let me exercise my mother-muscles on their children when I’m in town. But being a doting aunt is so different from being a mother. I’ve watched in admiration as motherhood has changed them all. There’s a deepening, self-sacrificing, emotional and physical giving-over-of-self that comes with motherhood. My sisters are all different people now. They seem to have softer edges, clearer perspectives and stronger sentiments.

I’m awed and envious. And I’m just glad they let me tag along for their journey.

Happy Mother’s Day.

Radiohead

The music was amazing, thanks to a better-than-expected sound system and killer seats. Nifty cameras mounted on the microphones projected close-up shots of the band all night - I saw Arcade Fire use that trick, too. It gives a really intimate angle on the performance. Those pole things hanging down on the stage were some kind of LED lights probably available at IKEA, because Radiohead's cool like that.

I could actually see Thom York much better than you can in this picture I took. Shouldn't the "zoom" button make things appear closer than they are?

At any rate, it was absolutely worth the dreadful parking and hours sitting in traffic inching forward in a gravel lot.

Too Legit to Quit

The DMV lady snatched my Utah license before I could bid it proper farewell. Government bureaucrats aren't too sentimental, I guess. I've been putting off get an NC license because of the waiting in line and written test required. But now that my car registration is about to expire, I need an NC license to register it.

So the fire was lit and I dragged myself out of bed bright and early after a very late night working on the election. I even combed my hair, knowing the picture they were going to take would be with me for a good long time. I had to show 12 forms of ID and proof of residency - rather excessive, but whatever. And thanks to a very helpful blogger who posted a study guide of facts to remember, I passed the driving test handily.

Does this make me a North Carolinian, now? Hope so, because I don't think the DMV will give back my Utah license, no matter how sweetly I ask.

Hi Ho! Hi Ho! Off to the polls I go!

Headed down the street to vote in just a few minutes here. . . it's a full three months after the rest of the country had its say, and yet by some miracle of American indecision, we here in North Carolina actually matter today.

I'll admit, I had ballot envy on Super Tuesday back in February. Even wished briefly I hadn't left Utah - cause the Beehive State joined the Super Tuesday scrum. But karma's a funny thing. North Carolina shares its ridiculously late primary with only Indiana. Our makeup's starting to melt a bit from the glare of the spotlight. It's made for some pretty busy weeks at work and lots of requests coming in from national media outlets - for which I can't complain.

Best of all - I've now heard all three leading contenders to be the next White House inhabitant speak in person. That includes John McCain who was in Charlotte yesterday - even though he didn't really need to campaign here since he's got the GOP nomination wrapped up. I saw his flight suit and POW prison cell in Vietnam a few years back - so it was cool to see him. The man's a war hero, that's for certain. But I'm less certain that makes him a good presidential candidate. I will say that he's adopted the vocal cadence and phraseology eerily reminiscent of President Bush. I even detected a touch of Texas drawl. Strange.

I'm not one for loving the limelight, today North Carolina gets a red plate and if nothing else comes of the hoopla, it's the first time I've ever seen all of the leading candidates for President in-the-flesh. And that's darn cool.

I should have listened to Mom

The leaders of the children's organization at the church in Charlotte threw a Princess Party for the girls yesterday. I put my ballgown on and tagged along.

I've been putting off this post all day because my hands are torn and sore and I thought typing would hurt. It hurts less than I expected, so I'll explain quickly.

When I run, I have all the grace of a turkey. I distinctly remember Mom telling me once in high school as she waited in the car for us to hustle over after school and I ran across the front field so as not to keep her waiting, "Don't run Julie. You look silly."

I do it anyway sometimes for exercise. And I try to pretend that I don't look silly. But I know with the shuffling feet, stiff arms and red face, I don't look exactly athletic. Yesterday the sidewalk set me straight. I jammed my left thumb, tore the pad off my right palm, scraped my knees and bruised what little ego I have in the running department. (It happened several hours after the princess pic was taken. I look far less cheerful at the moment.)

Sleeping was tough last night and I've been good for nothing all afternoon except napping and reading my book in a spot of sun on the stoop.

This week another single friend asked me if I ever worry about still being alone at 80 . . worry that no one will be there to take care of me or keep me company. My honest reply was "No." But I tell you what. It would have been nice to have someone around last night, because trying to bandage your own sore and bleeding hands with your own sore and bleeding hands is no easy trick.

A Slice of Heaven

Before I moved away from Utah I went to great lengths to make sure my niece and nephews would remember me. It was the babies I worried about most. The older ones would have trouble forgetting how cool I am. I gave them all a laminated picture of me to keep in their toybox. I recorded some stories on CD. I convinced my sister to get a webcam so the kids can see my face once-a-week or so. After three months in Charlotte, I made my first visit back to Utah last week and this is the welcome I get (see photo left).

My sister swears he's teething and says I shouldn't take it personally. He never really warmed up to me, though. So much for my well-laid plans! Maybe my expectation of maintaining favorite-aunt status from afar was a bit too lofty with the youngest nephews - and for sure with the newest niece who only just met me last week. The rest of the visit was consumed largely with playing Guitar Hero at my sister's fancy new house, eating popcorn and hanging out at the park.














I hope there's Guitar Hero and popcorn in heaven.