Saturday, February 28, 2009


Ok. I only have computer access for five minutes today.

I am confessing to the world that I spent $200 on a pair of shoes last week. Never in my life have I spent more than $110 on shoes, mostly because I have freakish feet (this could be why I can't run) that are size 6.5 but 4E. As in Extra-extra wide. Extra-extra-extra-EXTRA wide, actually. Almost square. I have square feet, my friends.

But I was browsing last week, after Friend-with-a-Smart-Car insisted that I come with him to the Zappos Outlet in Shepherdsville, Kentucky, one fine afternoon. And I saw these amazing cowboy boots. They are purple. gold, AND red. ANd the only size left was: 6.5 Extra-extra-extra-extra Wide.

It was totally a sign.

They arrived yesterday. I've already worn them on real Earth, so they are sticking with me. I'm not having the slightest Buyer's Remorse, and it's a freakin' recession.

Oh well, if you can't pay the mortgage, at least you can look good in your new boots.

Friday, February 27, 2009

Circus Class and a Juggling Injury

Current mood:jolly

I was in my backyard a few days ago, admiring the mess of sticks and branches that has amassed there since the various wind and ice storms, when I spied a juggle ball in the gutter. It was certainly not me who tossed it there; I am a goooood juggler. Everytime I take a trip somewhere that involves a castle, my souvenir is almost always a set of juggle balls. Let me tell you the story of just how I became to be such a fine juggler.

During my second year at NYU, I signed up for an extra 2-credit course. In addition to my regular 16-credits of philosophy and politics classes, I took a Pass/Fail class in the Graduate Acting Program called: Circus. Yes, "Circus." It was taught by a professional clown and former professor at Ringling Brothers College, Hovey (pronounced "Huh-vee") Burgess.

My parents still love to joke about how their daughter goes away to this great school and takes a class called "Circus."

The class was fantastic, and it was everything you'd imagine. We spun plates atop long, thin pieces of bamboo while marching across the room. Two trapezes hung down from the ceiling, and we learned various techniques of hanging, swinging, and catching our classmates. It was only a 12-foot ceiling, so no net was required. Likewise, a tightrope that rose about three feet off the ground (frightening!) sat in a far-off corner. My specialty was the tightrope. I was the only person in the whole class who could funambulate the entire length of the tightrope, then turn around without falling, and walk back. Seriously, the class would cheer for me as I floated across with my wee little feet.

But I could not -- not even for a grade -- juggle.

It was the easiest thing in the world. Half the class could do it before the first day, and the rest of them learned during the two hour class where we juggled. I pouted and tried again. My throw was off, I couldn't catch, and I couldn't catch on to the rhythm. Hovey gave me tips, but nothing worked. Every 10 seconds, I would drop a ball, squat down, and pick it up again. I did this for two solid hours, and still! I couldn't juggle.

The walk home to my dorm was awful. Totally defeated. I do not take failure well. Back in the dorm, all my friends showed me how easy it was for them to juggle. I tried again for about half an hour, but to no avail. So I went to sleep.

The alarm went off the next morning, and I was paralyzed. Seriously, I could not move my legs. I sat up and used my arms to lift my legs to the ground. I was barely able to stand up, but some slight feeling returned. The feeling was pain. With every step I took, my legs quivered. Sitting on the toilet was the worst pain imaginable. My quads and hamstrings were on fire. What the hell was wrong with me?

And then I realized, that I had essentially been doing SQUATS for over two hours straight because I kept dropping those stupid juggle balls.

It took me about three days before I could walk down stairs quasi-normally.

I also discovered (Lesson of the Day, folks) that the best place to learn to juggle is: in front of your bed. That way, when you drop a ball, you don't have to do a squat to pick it up again.

I finally learned to juggle, and I passed the class. And that, my friends, is the story of how I became such a fine juggler. Which is why I'm wondering how that juggle ball got in the gutter.

Thursday, February 26, 2009

21 days.

Current mood: nauseated
Category: Life

They say it takes 21 days to break or form a habit.

I was supposed to go to Nashville this morning to write with a friend down there. Last night, I said to someone, "The best thing about that is knowing that I'll have a song or two written by tomorrow afternoon."

I woke up with a horrible migraine. Weather induced, surely. Stupid barometric pressure. I am not in Nashville. My morning was spent thrashing around bed, writhing in pain, hitting myself in the head, tying and re-tying a bandana around my forehead to relieve some of the pressure, and trying not to throw up.

It has mostly subsided, but I crawled out of bed just now to post a blog. Blogging has become habit by now. It did take right around 21 Days.

My mind is in a gloomy place right now, understandably, so I thought I'd share some brighter news. I planted about 21 garlic cloves last November, and they are all popping their cute little greenery out of the ground now. I'm considering naming them, but then I might not be able to eat them when they are ready for harvest. And what would I do with 21 garlic bulbs as pets?

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Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Dirty foreheads, Andrew Lloyd Weber, and Giving it up.

Current mood: angsty
Category: Goals, Plans, Hopes
Last night was Mardi Gras (Fat Tuesday, for those who do not parles le français), which means today is Ash Wednesday. These two days are connected. They are also connected to Maundy Thursday and Good Friday. Apparently, these days are also connected to ... wait for it ... Easter Sunday.

This is something I didn't understand until college, when my roommate came home one afternoon with dirt on her forehead. I thought I was being polite when I pointed out that she should probably look in the mirror. There's nothing worse than noticing you've got spinach in your teeth after sitting through an entire meal with someone, except maybe going through your entire day with a dirty forehead.

Am I embarrassing my parents here when I say that, until college when I had to read the Bible for a philosophy class, most of my biblical history came from Jesus Christ Superstar? And asking those four questions at Passover? And wondering why my cousin Nicole got to stay up until way past midnight on Christmas Eve because of something called "mass," but I had to go to sleep?

I also thought Passover and Easter were the same thing. We had matzoh with my mom's family and ham sandwiches with my dad's. Just like some people eat Turkey on Thanksgiving and others eat Tofurkey. It was a matter of The Highlands versus South Preston. A matter of geography, not religion.

I wonder if it was my obstinate nature that prevented my parents and I from ever talking about religion, or if it was just that they chose to not influence my own ideas. Really, all this flitting from Kosher hot dogs to ham sandwiches (one time, in middle school, I was keeping Kosher for Passover, and I made a matzoh ham sandwich. Doh!), just made me think that all those religions were the same. But some people preferred to get church out of the way on Saturday and sleep late on Sunday. Isn't it all about hanging out with friends and being a nice person?

By the way, do Monday and Saturday ever get an adjective?

Sorry for the religious post.

I'm trying to decide what I'm going to do for Lent this year. I've never participated in Lent before, but several of my friends are. Rather than giving anything up, however, these folks challenge themselves to do a particular thing for 40 days. A few years ago, they wrote a daily haiku. (My favorite was: Fattest man on earth/ Why are you sitting by me/ Flotation device.)
This year they are taking one photograph everyday and having an art show at the end.

I have two thoughts. Either I am going to join Team Photography. Or I'm going to try an entire 40 Days of: Things I've Never Done Before. I did this and blogged about it back in July, and it was a blast.

Today I already did something new: I did a cartwheel while on a walk this morning, at the intersection of Bardstown Road and Taylorsville Road. I'm still picking the gravel out of my hand, but it was fun.

Thoughts? Looking for my camera now...

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Tuesday, February 24, 2009

Evangelical runners.

Current mood: argumentative
Category: Religion and Philosophy

I was going to wait until Week-in-Review on Sunday to address all these private messages I've been getting about the joys of running. There were far too many, however, which made me develop this theory.

Enthusiastic Running Friends are like Evangelical Christians. (Or like those drug dealers who followed me in Washington Square Park when I was in college.) Come on, try it, you'll love it!

Friend-with-a-Smart-Car and I were talking about this over lunch yesterday. Runners are just like Born Agains* who feel really sorry for you because you just haven't accepted Jesus in your heart, but if you'll just try, then you, too, will feel the "joys and benefits" of the Lord. (Allison! Direct quote from your comment! You're charming as can be, but not even you can make running fun for surly ol' me.)

Nothing against Señor Christ here. He was a fine fellow. But the folks who repeatedly tell you, "You don't know what you're missing. Please just come to church with me once, and I promise you'll see," well, they sound just like you wacky runners who keep messaging me suggesting I join your running club!

So at the risk of offending my faithful (hee hee) readers who took the time out to message me about how I should really give running a try, and how my whole life will change, please ... Stop the Evangelical Running. (Do I smell a bumper sticker coming on?!?)

Some people just aren't meant to pound their joints on the earth. I am one of those people. I swam 500 yesterday, and I could have done more. I stopped just as I reached my goal, however. Don't aim too high.

I think the chances of my becoming a runner are just about as likely as my becoming Born Again. Of course, Bob Dylan went through that phase. Maybe you should watch out for my lyrics over the next several years. If you notice that I slim down considerably and start singing about salvation, then I may have joined your running club and your church.

And as for church, well, I'm going to a church Mardi Gras party tonight. Whoo hoo!!!

*have you ever seen Bjorn Again? the ABBA tribute show? amazing

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Monday, February 23, 2009

Cap and goggles: check.

Category: Sports
Grrrrrr. What is the point of getting up early when it just means you have to warm up your car? And once there are a few consecutive days of tolerable warmth, there should NOT be a day of car-scraping until November. I'm over the winter. I need a winter home in the southern hemisphere.

I'm going swimming soon. (Little known fact about me: I was once a swim coach. I actually grew up a competitive swimmer, a Butterfly-er, if you will. I was never fast, but I could tread water while holding a ten-pound brick for twenty minutes.) Winter swimming is not my idea of fun, but I am going stir-crazy for lack of activity.

My dog is six now, and being that he is a Great Dane, he is now a "senior" dog. He can't keep up with me on land. This does not mean that I am taking him swimming with me. It means I have no motivation to go for a walk without my sweet sweet puppy. I suppose I'll have to get back in the water.

Swimming is not one of those things that just comes back to you. My strokes are still good, but my endurance is shot. Take a wee bit of time off, and it's like starting your marathon training all over. Well, maybe, I've never run a mile in my life, so what do I know about running?

Running is dumb. I understand running after a ball, or running away from a predator (e.g. Chiropractus Rex), but just running? No, thank you. Swimming is nice because it's like you're getting a massage. Plus, it makes my sinuses feel better. And I can also bend and stretch all kinds of muscles, and I won't fall over. I love a lack of gravity. Swimming also relies on the Metric System, which is one of my favorite Causes. It's also very quiet underwater, and you never have to worry that you might get hit by a car.

Anyway, the main point of this blog is that if I blog that I'm going swimming, I won't talk myself out of it. I'm only going to do a 500 though.

Sunday, February 22, 2009

Week-in-Review (2.22)

Category: Blogging
Welcome to the Week-in-Blog. I've come to relish these Sunday blogs. It's a nice way to review, recap, remember, and respond to your thoughtful messages.

* Yep, Cari, it's totally the stress. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Eat all the bagels you want.

* Mia, the cold, wet, icky-ness, has my weak arthritic joints crying in their sleep. I feel like a grandma. Of course, both my grandmothers died when I was a wee lass, so I don't really know what it's like to feel like a grandmas. Except that my knuckles hurt and my hips ache when it's cold.

* Scott, the Tai Chi and Chai Tea thing had me rolling. Nicely played.

* Shannon, it was a G- chord.

* Jonathan, sorry, definitely not a love-fest on V-Day. I know better than to get involved with a musician, anyway. Musicians don't have dental.

* Bard, you have GOT to try matzoh ball soup.

* Manischevitz makes a killer boxed matzoh ball soup -- and it's vegetarian.

* Tom, tell me more about scarecrow with solar lights. That sounds like EXACTLY what I need.

* Whrllygrl, i could very much be interested in a veggie-share scheme.

* Cari... hmmm .. chickens. How might chickens work? Rephrase: exactly how much work is involved in raising chickens? Do I need to get a chicken-sitter if I go on tour? Will they lay eggs without a rooster?

* Shari, square-foot gardening is exactly what I was looking for. Thanks!

* Layla, I know. My long hair hippie braids deceive people into thinking I've been camping. But I prefer a tour van. Many a boy has promised me he'd take me camping ... no one ever does.

* Awwwww, Cara, thank you so so much. And despite news being death and destruction, sometimes it's music and puppies. Or maybe saw-playing. Let me know if you ever need a guest anchor; I'm totally in. Barry wouldn't mind, would he?

* Amen, Mia. Amen. A hotel IS camping.

* Ashley, where have you been hiding? Maybe on my rider for my next gig, I'll insist on a bag of M&M's with all of the blue ones removed.

* Sweet, Tom. I think maybe it was the Teen Jeopardy! that prevented my dating in high school.

* Ewwww, Daniel .. sweet tarts? really?! I went through a phase, but now I"m a chocolate girl.

* Glad you had a chance to try the Bourbon Barrel, Todd, before I drank it all.

Okay, I've written this from deep in the hollers of Bottomless Mimosas at the Wrench. Speaking of ...

Monkey Wrench brunch next Sunday, anyone? Steve Cooley and his Bluegrass Boys will be pickin' until 1:00, and then at 1:00 the Mimosa faucet opens. $10 Bottomless. See you there. Seriously, will I see you there?

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Saturday, February 21, 2009

Bourbon Barrel Mead and Scribes.

Category: Food and Restaurants
Sometimes I wish I had a scribe. You know, like in ancient Greek times, I could had some nice handsome fellow walk behind me in a toga and with a quill and parchment. I often come up with the most charming and intelligent ideas, and my mind moves so quickly from one charming and intelligent idea to another, that I simply do not have time to notate these gems. Okay, so I'm kidding about my ideas being particularly good, but there would definitely be some merit to having a handsome fellow in a toga follow me around and write things down for me: "Kleenex! Flour! Bourbon Barrel Mead!"

All day long, I knew I had a blog topic, but I couldn't remember it. And now I have. Thanks, scribe.

Last night I went out into the world because my friend Kyle, possibly here-to-fore known as Friend-with-a-cool-new-radio-show, told me I needed to try the Bourbon Barrel Mead at Cumberland Brews.

If you are a regular reader of my blog, you know that I do not drink beer. I am a whisky girl through and through. I like a Guinness on occasion, but generally a nice bourbon or a smoky Scotch is my preference.

Kyle told me he was meeting some friends at Cumberland at 8:30 to drink this Mead before the micro-brewery ran out of it. Apparently, there was only one barrel made, and the servers expected it all to be gone by Sunday.

I got there at 6:00 and had the last glass.

It was absolutely delicious. I mean, I have never felt this way about a beer before. It was sweet and tart, but tasted nothing like a SweetTart (ewww). I didn't ask, because I'm not a food critic, but I'm guessing it's called Bourbon Barrel Mead because it is aged in a used Bourbon Barrrel. Supposedly it takes a long time to age it, so they won't have anymore until possibly Derby time. It tasted almost as if someone dumped a shot of sweet amazing bourbon in a delicious ale, but that description sounds icky. And this beer is not icky; it is yummy.

Kyle showed up with his bass playin' friend and was angry I'd imbibed the last of the BBM. Then the most amazing thing happened, and the waitress appeared with three more glasses of the elusive BBM. There was a wee bit left in the upstairs part of Cumberland.

But don't worry, my friends, it's all officially gone now. If you hear it's back, please let me know. I'll see you there. In the mean time, it's back to bourbon for me.

Friday, February 20, 2009

25 Things about Me.

Category: Life
Ok, so that thing's been going around Facebook for a while now, and I didn't post one. Today, however, I'm having one of those what-the-hell-am-i-going-to-blog-about days, so instead, I'm posting a 25-things-list.

1. When people ask me what my favorite color is, I always say purple. But really, it's red.
2. I had Perfect Attendance from kindergarten through 12th grade. When I graduated, I received a silver bowl with my name engraved on it. The kids who did this the year before me received a trip to France.
3. I have never been camping.
4. I once climbed Mount Fuji in Japan overnight with a backpack and a headlamp to watch the sun rise from above the clouds.
5. I own a stick shift car, but I am terrified to drive it in actual traffic. My dad and I traded cars about two years ago, and I drive his Volvo wagon. He drives my Acura Integra.
6. My favorite food is watermelon. And lately, nachos.
7. When blue M&M's came out, I refused to eat them. Food should not be blue.
8. I met my college roommate on an America Online chat room when I was sixteen. We are still BFF's, and I'm going to visit her house in Austin in March.
9. I've never been to continental Europe. Well, not exactly true ... I spent three days in Paris once, but that's it. Paris doesn't count.
10. I've been to five island nations: New Zealand, Iceland, Ireland, UK, and Japan.
11. When I worked in news, I once interviewed Susan Lucci and Colin Powell for the same segment: about dolls made in their likenesses. Riveting news.
12. The last piece of meat I ate was in high school: a Bambi burger from the Bambi bar. No, that's not venison. It's a burger joint in Louisville.
13. My mother is Jewish and my father is Catholic, which means I can never marry Prince William, unless he wants to give up the throne. No Protestant blood flows within me:(
14. I am obsessed with the last-minute vacation deals on, and wonder if I might go to Jamaica this afternoon. It's under $600.
15. When I lived in New York, I was once driven home in a motorcade.
16. I secretly love doing my taxes.
17. My favorite number is 17.
18. I would love to go to graduate school for the rest of my life, but instead insist on going the library at least once a week.
19. I pay the library a lot of money in fines.
20. I love my job because I get to see people smile and enjoy themselves. When I worked in news, it was all heartache and destruction. I prefer making people feel good.
21. I once flew to Omaha, Nebraska, to audition for Teen Jeopardy! I did not make the show, but the captain of our high school's rival Quick Recall team won the entire Teen Jeopardy! championship that year.
22. I did not date in high school. Not surprising.
23. My second instrument is the cello, but I quit orchestra in the 7th grade to join the chorus. I can still play the cello, but I wish I could reeeeeeeally play the cello.
24. I am terrible at sports, but I have never lost a game of croquet.
25. My birthday is July 25, and my Amazon Wish List Registry is: Tee hee hee.

Have a great weekend, everyone. Thanks for reading. My creativity another day.

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Thursday, February 19, 2009

How should my garden grow?

Category: Food and Restaurants
As many of you know from watching my little video from Nashville Star, I am known on my street as the Lady-who-has-tomato-plants-in-her-front-yard. I've got no sunlight in my backyard, and there's no way I'm actually going to buy tomatoes from the grocery store.

It's weird living through this new depression. I always enjoyed gardening in previous years because it reminds me where we get our food. I like playing in the dirt, and I love creating things, whether it be songs or artichokes. I also like the charm of having tobacco plants with giant purple flowers. Tobacco plants are beautiful, but my neighbor, AKA Mr. Lawn-Guy, would probably disagree.

But this year -- what with lack of money and the outrageous price of food -- I'm actually planning the garden as a way of feeding myself and my friends. This requires serious planning, and I am not a planner.

Last year, I planted tomatoes, garlic, eggplant, yellow squash, basil, oregano, dill, mint, and cilantro. I had a strawberry plant, but Evil Steve the Squirrel ate every strawberry the second it ripened. The eggplants were adorable to watch, but it turns out I don't really like eggplant.

I'm trying to figure out what I should plant so that I have a harvest all the time. Anyone have an three-year-old asparagus plants they want to donate? I'm too impatient to plant my own. I've been pouring over the Burpee catalog, salivating at the thought of my own artichokes. I need to be a bit more practical this year and actually plant things based on what I want to eat.

Anyone have any ideas?

I definitely want soybeans. I did that a few years ago, and looooooved having fresh edamame in the front yard. I also want things that will be their own meals. That way I can saunter out front, pick a few veggies and spices, and whip up a meal.

Theme gardens are my favorite. Last year I had a salsa garden. At my old house, I had a Shakespeare Garden. Is there a fun theme garden that would also feed my little commune? Hmmmm..

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Soup from the tribe.

Current mood: strong
Category: Friends
Your grandma may think that it's the chicken stock that cures your sniffles, but I'm telling you it's the matzoh balls. Chicken soup is nothing without the matzoh balls.

Friend-with-a-Truck is sick, and I took it upon myself to deliver some homemade matzoh ball soup last night.

Here's the thing though: as we all know, I am a vegetarian. I discovered years ago that it doesn't take chicken stock -- or even that gross imitation schmaltz -- to make delicious soup. And by process of elimination (or "POE" for those of you studying for the SAT), since the matzoh ball soup still heals, even sans chicken, then it must be the magic matzoh that is the cure-all.

Unfortunately for Friend-with-a-Truck, he has not yet tasted the magic Jew Soup -- something about the illness and his appetite -- and is thus, still sick in bed. Silly gentiles.

I, however, am armed with extra matzoh balls and lots of orange juice. I will not get a cold, nor will I get the scurvy. Get well soon, Friend-with-a-Truck. Or I might come liberate the rest of those fourteen matzoh balls.

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Tuesday, February 17, 2009

Dinosaurs, doctors, and deductibles, oh my!

Category: Life

At one point last week, I changed my Facebook status to: "Brigid 's back hurts. massage? acupuncture? chiropractor? suggestions?"

With the state of health care in this country, I am completely against actually going to the doctor. I prefer to maintain an active vegetarian-mostly-vegan lifestyle and think away my pain. Thankfully, bourbon is vegan. A little vice is always nice.

Anyway, chiropractors frighten me. It sounds like a type of dinosaur. The mighty Chiropractus Rex hides behind the trees as it stalks its prey, silently awaiting the moment it will snap its victim's neck.

My self-employed deductible is way too high, and I hear chiropractors suck you into multiple visits. If I'm going to have multiple visits somewhere, it's going to be somewhere I get to lie down and have someone rub my back for an hour.

Enter: Cousin Pami. Yes, she's my cousin. I think she's my 2nd cousin, once-removed, technically. Which maybe means we could get married in Vermont.

She's an über-popular massage therapist in town, and she fit me in for an emergency Office Visit last week. It turns out I hold a lot of tension in my butt. Maybe that's why it has gotten larger lately.

I've gotten many a massage over the years, but Pami is who I call when I'm in pain. And she fixes it. She has these magic fingers.

I went swimming the day after the massage, and I feel a lot better this week. No need for acupuncture and definitely no need for the Chiropractus Rex.

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Monday, February 16, 2009

Squeezebox the Conquerer. (And discount concert tickets)

Category: Music
I think I'm just about recovered from the weekend of shows. The Nashville one was a packed house, but still very low-key. The Louisville show at the Monkey Wrench was a crowded house with absurd amounts of energy. I'm told we played a second set, but I honestly don't remember much about it. Note to self: a few stolen french fries and nachos does not a dinner make. Eat before you play.

A friend was kind enough to post some photos of the show. The surprise guest on violin was Miss Cheyenne, whom some of you may have seen play fiddle and sing with Will Oldham. (Or Bonnie Prince Billie as he seems to go by on occasion. How did that happen anyway? He's not particularly "bonnie" as in the lochs of Scotland are "bonnie." Maybe I'll adopt a Royal Moniker, perhaps Brigid the Fortunate or The Young Chevalier. Is there a website where instead of discovering your ninja or pirate name, you figure out your Royal Nickname by using the second letter of your mother's maiden name and the street where you had your first apartment? Hmmmm... something to ponder.)

Enjoy the photos below, and scroll down for a special offer for discount tickets to see Brandi Carlisle and Sondra Lerche this coming Saturday (Feb 21) in Louisville. I'll be there, not singing or playing, just enjoying a cool show where the Louisville Orchestra is playing with two songwriters. Cool stuff. Say hi if you see me there. I may bring a few of the extra New Depression EP's and give them away if you smile real nice.

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Sunday, February 15, 2009

Week-in-Review (2.15)

Category: Blogging
It's a lovely morning in Nashville, Tennessee. I cranked up some Willie Nelson, and I was off on the road again. Even if it's just a one-off in Nashville, it was that same great feeling of splittin' town to sing some songs. More on last night's show tomorrow. It's time for some review.

* As for the EP, there may be some copies available online. I still haven't really sorted through the merch box from Friday's show. It was a little wild. I'm sure I'll post something if we have any copies left to get rid of.

* I'll make sure not to get the red Snuggie. Although, do you think maybe if I got the red Snuggie AND the red cowboy boots, I would look less like a Satanist? And more just like a fun party animal? As for peeing in the Snuggie, it might take a bit more than oxycontin to get me to try that.

* You're right, Mia ... if she uses AutoTune, we may all be in trouble.

* Don, yes yes yes, weren't those acoustics simply divine? Thanks for introducing yourself. We've moved from 2D to 3D. Sweet.

* Jaywalkers ... you are absolutely right. I think some engineers get bored when they just push record, so maybe it's very exciting to correct pitch. Who am I to judge?

* I LOVE the idea of a steroid baseball league. That would be awesome, and I might actually go. I wonder if they could also have two separate Grammy awards ... one for non-auto-tuners and one for auto-tuners. Maybe at the Steroid Baseball League, only Auto-Tuner musicians are allowed to sing the national anthem, and vice versa. Brilliant.

* Hmmm .. the Lincoln Lyrics blog was apparently not nearly as amusing to you as it was to me. Perhaps I should keep my love of presidential trivia to myself. Just wait until Chester Arthur's birthday, folks.

* Wayne, I'm dreaming about Australia daily. Obsessed with festivals there next February. I cannot deal with this cold. The plan is now: constant summer. The hemispheres will work in my favor.

* I wish I was announcing an H2T gig in England! Let's work on that. I miss driving on the left.

* Thanks, CT. Looking forward to hearing you play out soon. Keep me posted.

* Cari, you would have loved to have been a fly on the wall. It was really grand. And hey ... did you cut your hair? How are you feeling? Tell me tell me tell me.

* Thanks for all your help, Allison.

* Teresa ... nice!! 15... my target demographic. Tell him hello. Glad y'all enjoyed the show.

Ok, I'm hungry, and I want to go to the Noshville counter. But my Noshville BFF will not be there because it's Sunday. Hmpf. (Call you later ... take your vitamins...)

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Saturday, February 14, 2009

Dull as a Rock-Field Hoe. And two lead singers get into a fight.

Current mood: hungover
Category: Music
Ok, so Shannon and I need a new venue. I love the Monkey Wrench, but the bourbon flows too easily there. Plus, it was really crowded. Good show, lots of people, great music, rockin' opening band, good times.

I was supposed to blog about the fight that Shannon and I got into yesterday. My mind is a bit cloudy, however, and I'm not sure how clever or succinct my writing will be this morning. I'm feeling dull as a rock-field hoe. I'm going to try.

It was an awesome argument. It wasn't on-stage. It was before the show, in the green room, also known as Friend-Who-Lives-Close-to-the-Bar's house. We were learning a cover song we had just thrown into the setlist. It was a nice little Gram Parsons tune, and all was moving a long splendidly, when we got to the Emmylou verse. Shannon was playing the guitar, and we got into a disagreement over one chord.

We have been friends for years, and we've never even gotten into any sort of tiff. In restrospect, that's pretty odd. We're both, um, egotistical at times and completely stubborn. I suppose we'd just always been in agreement.

But then came the D-chord. He was playing a D-chord, and it was supposed to be a G-chord. (It was!)

What's really funny is that we had an audience in the next room. And if our voices hadn't been elevated with passion and anger, it would have sounded like a perfectly logical discussion about music.

In no particular order, the following things were said: It stays on the four there. No, it goes back to the one. Listen to it. Ok, here I'll put it on the iPod. See? It's a G. No, it's a D. Play it again. No, I hear why you think that, and you're hearing that note, but it's not the root. It's the one. It's the one, but that's the alternate bass, it's the five of the four chord. The melody note doesn't go if you go back to the D that soon. You're singing the wrong melody. No I'm not. Yes you are. Well maybe I am, but it's still supposed to be the four chord, the G. I know what the four chord is. I'm not saying you don't know what the four is. Ok, I'll concede the chord, but you're singing the wrong melody. Ok, see we're both right.

Looks perfectly normal, but we were in a yelling and frustration match. Then we immediately laughed our asses off and said, "Dude! We just got into a fight! Our first fight!"

And the audience in the next room laughed uncomfortably with us. We were perfectly okay, and it was all over in about three minutes. Back to BFF's.

Then we walked down to the Wrench and played a killer show. I'm still laughing about our fight. (It was totally a G chord, by the way.)

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Friday, February 13, 2009

Wherein Brigid gets excited about a show in September.

Category: Music
I am giddy with excitement about 2009. Today isn't a topical blog. I'm just writing about some of the exciting news I've gotten lately.

I've got several festivals lined up for the summer around the US and tentative festivals in Europe.

And the show I'm over-the-moon about is: I was offered a showcase at the Americana Music Festival in Nashville in September. This is extremely exciting for me because I always attend this conference, but have never played it. Everyone I've ever seen there has been on a label and has had a big staff of folks helping them book shows and manage publicity. That they asked l'il ol' me to play is a HUGE deal for me.

Indulge me a bit as I indulge myself. I was the first of the artists to be announced, so I can't say who else will be playing. But I can tell you that over the last few years at the AMA's, I've seen The Avett Brothers, Emmylou Harris, Lyle Lovett, Buddy Miller, Scott Miller, Kim Richey, Jim Lauderdale, and of course many lesser-knowns-than-them, but much more-known-than-I.

If you're a lover of Americana music, then I suggest attending the conference in September. Or at least consider becoming a member of the Americana Music Association. They do good things for the world of music, and apparently, they are not afraid to let a completely independent artist play their conference.

And I guess it helps to have a quote from Garrison Keillor on your press kit...

See you tonight at The Monkey Wrench in Louisville for my last local show for a while. I'm touring a bit and working on some other projects. Our opener for tonight's show is Thomas A. Minor and the Picket Line (also known as Will Oldham's backing band). $7. 9:00. 21+.


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Thursday, February 12, 2009

Land o' Lincoln Lyrics.

Ok, you Illinoisans (or Illini, a word I treasure) who keep deceiving Honest Americans with your tricky license plates that say "Land of Lincoln." Today is the day for Kentuckians to remember where he was actually born: a wee cabin near Hodgenville, Kentucky.

I had another blog lined up for today, but last night, during a Twitter-obsessed bluegrass jam, I decided I needed to share these with you.

Twitter used to be the one social media device I kept private. It was only for my real, actual friends ... you know, people I'd want to invite to a dinner party. I'm not very good at maintaining the friend/fan line. I mean, Twitter tells you the latitude/longitude of my most recent tweet! (FYI, for your stalkers.) Then I decided my tweets really weren't all that important, and maybe a good stalker would be good publicity for me. So I opened it up for all the good friends AND fans to follow. (Follow the fun, if you like that sort of thing!

But now that I don't personally know everyone who's following me, I'm hesitant to tweet certain things. Mostly, it's silly little games that my friends are playing that wouldn't make much sense to folks outside the circle.

Like last night's Lincoln Lyrics, for example. I really wanted to join in the fun, but I didn't. I don't know who started it, but there was a declaration:

It is hereby
announced that all songs must be about Abe Lincoln until his birthday
is over. Here in the newsroom, we've started early.

Followed by a rapid series of tweets, all of which took well-known songs and replaced them with Lincoln Lyrics.

Bonus points if they're about Sad Lincoln, but any Lincoln lyrics will be acceptable.

I now give you some of my favorites from last night, from three of my favorite Tweeters and people of all-time. Sometimes they explained what song it was, but it was more fun trying to figure out the melody on my own:

Cat Stevens: I'm being followed by a sad Lincoln, saaad Lincoln sad Lincoln. #lincolnlyrics

Lincoln, he's sad. Sont des mots qui vont très bien ensemble. Très bien ensemble. #lincolnlyrics

Galileo, Galileo,
Galileo, Lincoln's Sad. Beelzebub, Honest Abe Emancipated meeee, 'ted
meeeee, 'ted MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! *bangs head*

Here come Abe Lincoln, he come saving the union, he fight Battle of Bull Run ..He say "One thing I can tell you slaves have got to be free." #lincolnlyrics

Sweet dreams are made of Abe, who am I to emancipate? He was born tomorrow's date, everybody's looking for Lincoln. #lincolnlyr

I'm all out of Abe, I'm so lost without him, I know he was right, for saving our nation. #lincolnlyrics

"I would free 500
slaves and I would free 500 more just to be the President who beat the
south and won the civil war." #lincolnlyrics (this one had me on my knees!)

Carly Simon: Emancipation. Emancipa-a-ation, is all thanks to Abe. All thanks to Li-i-i-i-incoln. #lincolnlyrics

If I could turn back time. If I could find a way. I would bring you back some Zoloft, Sad Abe. #lincolnlyrics

Elvis Costello: Aaaaaaabe Lincoln. I know this war is killing you. Oooh, Aaaaabe Lincoln...Boothe's aim is true.

I mean, seriously, I was falling out of my barstool at the Monkey Wrench (and wasn't even drinking) from laughing at these. Then I was replacing bluegrass lyrics with Lincoln homages... Anyone have any LincolnLyrics?

See you on Twitter! I probably won't be able to resist from joining the fun next time. So if you see a random nonsensical tweet, trust that it makes total sense to me and is likely making my cheeks ache with laughter.

Happy Birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday Sad Lincoln! Happy birthday to you!

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Wednesday, February 11, 2009

Performance Enhancement.

Current mood:,
Category: Sports
Today I'm writing about baseball. Sort of.

Was anyone else annoyed when Obama was asked about A-Rod's performancing-enhancing drug use? I understand that he shouldn't have taken drugs because drugs are bad, blah blah blah. But really, do we care about that when the economy is falling apart?

Yes, yes, I get it ... it's a lie ... it should be about great natural athletes ... hmpf.

I wonder how Obama feels about musical artists who use performance enhancing buttons on the recording equipment? As if Britney Spears or Taylor Swift or Rascal Flatts would ever have gotten record deals without AutoTune.


I'm going to admit publicly -- and regretfully, I assure you -- that there is one note on my first record where the producer insisted on AutoTuning it, although I could have just as easily done another vocal take and sung it correctly. We got into a big fight over that one. I still can't listen to that song.

I hope Obama is not too disappointed in me. West 28th Street is au natural, I swear.

Oh well. It's show biz versus baseball ... or is it much different?

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

Why I prefer herbal medicine.

Category: Life

(Updated Link to my gift registry, hee hee)

My back has been killing me for the past week. It gets better with activity and is horrible in the morning. My symptoms are right on track with the back pains of most accordion players.

Last night, I couldn't take it anymore, and I finally took a prescription pain pill.

I've got a good friend who once got so high on Ambien that she adopted one of those Sally Struthers kids from Africa while watching TV at 4am and had absolutely no memory of it. She was too embarrassed to cancel the monthly fee when the credit card company explained what it is. I think she still receives the occasional letter from her little African child.

I didn't go that far last night, but apparently, I spent a lot of time browsing I also discovered that you can create a "Wish List" for absolutely no reason. No wedding, no housewarming, no baby shower -- just a list of things you want. I vaguely remember thinking that this is a brilliant idea.

So here's what happens when a good-non-drug-taking girl takes an Oxycontin:
No pressure, folks, but just in case you thought you might need to get me a Mardi Gras present, my wish list inclues the entire Oxford English Dictionary, as well as the more compact comes-with-a-magnifying-glass type. And a Snuggie.

I'm off to get a medicinal massage now. Money better spent. The pharmaceutical companies just want me to consume.

Monday, February 9, 2009

The New Depression.

Category: Music
I'm really excited about playing a show on Friday with my good friend Shannon Lawson. Yes, I know it seems like we've played a lot together lately, but it's because I think we're both stoked about doing something a little different. He lives in Nashville, and I don't see him often. When he comes to Louisville to visit family, he does a show. I usually end up playing because that's just what I do.

Last week, as you may remember, he came up to write some songs, when the Snowpocalypse arrived. Being snowed in without heat or electricity got us to thinking about back when times were really tough and how things are getting more and more tough for people every day. And as we lived like hobos last week, depending on the kindness of both friends and strangers, we wrote a lot of old-timey songs. We laughed a lot and decided it was a "New Depression" we were going through. And hey, isn't that a great little name for a duo...

Ever since he sang a duet on my latest record ("One More Last Kiss" available on iTunes), a lot of people have asked me when we were going to make a duo record. I honestly didn't see that ever happening, but we got to talking about it during the Ice Storm. We've both got some big plans for our individual careers over the coming year (at least I do -- and he should), so it seemed like a good time to just make a record together before we get swamped with other things. A duo project seemed like a nice chance to write music that's a little different than what I usually do, and I surprisingly enjoyed the collaboration aspect.

The record isn't finished, but because of the volume of requests I've gotten from my blog-readers to hear our new songs soon, we've decided to do something a little different. Isn't it nice to not have to wait on a record label? In the spirit of independent music that's driven by music lovers and appreciators like yourselves, we're offering a limited-edition EP of some of our new songs. They weren't recorded in a fancy shiny studio, but the EP is a nice one-of-a-king preview of what we're working on.

We'll be playing on Friday, February 13th, at The Monkey Wrench in Louisville, Kentucky. We'll have the limited-run CD's available there. We're calling it a "CD Preview Party" for our little duo, The New Depression.

Stephen Couch (of The Betweeners) will be opening at 9:00. He's one of my favorite songwriters and players in Americana music. It's a $7 admission. The EP's will probably be $5 or $6 depending on how much the printing runs us.

Friday Feb 13th in Louisville: Brigid Kaelin & Shannon Lawson
Saturday Feb 14th in Nashville: I'm back to doing my own thing ... playing a solo set right before David Mead plays a full band set. At The Basement. $7, i think. Call them for time. It starts at either 8 or 9.

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Sunday, February 8, 2009

Week-in-Review (2-8-9)

Category: Blogging
It's been a good week. My problems have been trivial. A sore back, a car stuck in the ice, and some frozen pipes. I played a rockin' show with some good friends and frolicked around Louisville most of the week. I decided to become a plumber. After playing a good show to several hundred people, I decided maybe I should stick to show biz. Good times.
Let's review.
liz: Texas Stonehengeis amazing. It's exactly what wealthy oil-folks should do with their excess money. Also on the same land: Easter Island statue replicas! I make a pilgrimage every time I'm in Austin for SXSW or other activities.
karen: Yep, I own an auger. I bought it back when the sink was clogged, but then I just used a lot of Drain-o and some boiling water. So I've never actually used the auger.
Chris: No, the trap wasn't frozen ... we had de-thawed it ... still clogged:(
robert: I may not have actually NEEDED it, but I've got stupid-arthritic hands, so the monkey wrench was a really helpful tool. Plus, it's got the word "monkey" in it, which is fun. And the next time my car's stuck, I'm calling you ... thanks!
Butch & Dana: They sort of did that in middle school, only for some reason I took shop. I remember I was really really into using the jigsaw. I made a bunch of wooden letters that spelled out people's names. I also was into branding letters onto leather belts. Weird. I also remember learning how to quilt in elementary school. Not useful.
Bard: When I'm plumbing, I plumb in a dress. So there are no plumber-crack jokes to be made.
Trees: I wondered if anyone would mention the Foo Fighters... good job. And the "don't give up your day job" made me laugh out loud. LOL-style.
Val: I'm so glad I don't have to deal with people without hot water. I am re-considering the plumbing thing.
Rae: I hadn't even THOUGHT of the saw! And here I thought I would have to invest in all kinds of new tools ... a saw and a monkey wrench might be all I need.
Aaron: Aluminum foil?!? Hilarious. Remind me to have you housesit for me sometime. I love wacky roommate antics.
Rainbow: Vitamin time! Hope you're peeing electric vitamin yellow.
Cheerio, everyone!

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Saturday, February 7, 2009

Pancakes and a new game.

Current mood: jolly
Category: Life
It's only 10 am, and already my abs, back, and cheeks hurt from laughing so much.

I don't sleep at my house very often, and it's not because I'm a loose woman. I'm just out late quite a bit, and sometimes I'm driving my friends' cars when they've had too much to drink, and they all have guest beds that are far more comfortable than mine. Besides, I'm used to touring all the time, so home feels weird to me.

Last night, after a fun show at the Speed Art Museum in Louisville, I went to meet my parents and a few friends for cocktails and dinner. Dinner turned into a late night out, but, luckily, Friend-who-Lives-Near-the-Bar left his door unlocked for me. Sweet!

Previously when I've crashed on the futon here, I've sent him a morning text message (yes, from the next room) asking where my breakfast is. It's all been in jest.

Well, mostly. He doesn't cook. Let me re-phrase that: he didn't used to cook.

He's recently single, and I took it upon myself to teach him Home-Ec things. I took him grocery shopping because he didn't own any olive oil. I taught him how to make various breakfast foods. You see where I'm going with this...

So this morning, about 8am, I stumbled to the kitchen for a glass of water and some Advil when I spied the Bisquick in the pantry. Giggling to myself, I placed the Bisquick and eggs in front of the coffeemaker and crawled back to my futon. I've never been one for subtlety.

But guess what? An hour later, my phone rang. I didn't answer it because it's early. Then I received a text message (yes, from the next room) that said: "Breakfast is served." (Ladies, he's available, and he cooks. Pancakes!)

I now offer you a really fun game to play: While Friend-who-Cooks-Pancakes (new moniker), was on the phone, I went into the next room where I found a bunch of wrapping paper. So I started wrapping random things I found in the room and then gave the pile of gifts to Friend-who-Cooks-Pancakes. It was my way of thanking him for breakfast. For some reason, I found this activity to be the funniest thing ever, which is why my abs, back, and cheeks hurt so much.

Wow, it's good to be so easily amused.

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Friday, February 6, 2009

Career Change for Brigid. And a show tonight.

Current mood: strong
Category: Music

I have one more show tonight, and then I'm going to become a plumber.

My new favorite tool is the monkey wrench. It was previously the Pampered Chef Jar Opener. The tools are really quite similar -- both appropriate for those of us with arthritic genes, unable to open jars or pipes.

Really, I'm a natural at this whole plumbing thing. (The p-trap hadn't frozen, or if it had, Friend-with-a-Smart-Car had used a hair drier to thaw it.) The drain was clogged, but I calmly and easily used that monkey wrench to remove the trap. I even remembered to put a bucket underneath the sink to catch the waterfall of stinky pipe water (or SPW as those of us in the biz call it). It all happened so fast, I was almost disappointed. I wanted to go downstairs and undo the kitchen sink.

Call me if you have a clogged sink. I'm really really good, folks, really good.

In other news, my car is still stuck on the ice where I parked on Sunday night. Several people have tried to dislodge it, but the Volvo seems happy in its current location. I hope the ice melts today though because I have to play this one last show before I become a plumber.

If you'd like to see the retirement show, the details are below. It's a Brown Forman sponsored event, and I think my band is supposed be background music to a cocktail party or something. That is unfortunate for them because I know my limitations. And I know that I am not good at being in the background. I'm a redhead. And a Leo. And I play the freakin' accordion. I don't think Muzak is in my future. Oh well.

Location: Speed Art Museum
Address: 2035 S. Third St
City: Louisville
State: Kentucky
Phone: 502.634.2700
Price: Admission is $10, free to members

Description: Join us as we
celebrate Mardi Gras with the live music of Brigid Kaelin, fortune
tellers, 2oz tastings of Southern Comfort cocktails for $2, and
complimentary food samplings by Liquor Barn. Admission is free to
members, $10 for non-members. Door will open at 5:30 for this event.
Parking is available in the Speed garage for $3.

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Thursday, February 5, 2009

The Monkey Wrench and its usefulness.

Current mood: determined
Category: Life
I got my power back on yesterday afternoon! I also have decided that I should not own a home. It seemed like a good idea at the time, investment, retirement, future, blah blah blah. It's the classic Pope quote: "A little knowledge is a dangerous thing." The key being "a little." I know just enough to be dangerous to myself and my home.

My Friend-with-a-Smart-Car drove me by the house to check on it (my car has been stuck on ice for the past few days), and I noticed the next-door-neighbor had power. I also noticed my porch light was not on. I was in a sour mood anyway, so I trudged inside and flipped a bunch of switches, none of which worked. Then, Friend-with-a-Smart-Car, went inside, determined that the main switch was off, and restored my power. I would never had thought to check for that. (Again, I should not own a home.)

After turning the water back on, he then discovered some of my pipes had frozen. This angered me because I'd shut off the water supply AND had drained the pipes. (Thinking I was doing the responsible homeowner thing.) How annoying.

Anyway, condensed version: he thawed the pipes and got things working again, but the sink was clogged somehow. I own an auger, but that didn't do the trick. And alas, I do NOT own a monkey wrench.

The Monkey Wrench is my favorite hangout in Louisville, and I knew there had, at one time in history, there had been a tool and/or a quilt of the same name. But when I think Monkey Wrench, I think Fried Green Tomato Veggie Burgers or Bluegrass Brunch or Brigid-You've-Got-a-Drink-in-the-Well.

So later that night, when Friend-with-a-Truck picked me up, and I told him about my need for a Monkey Wrench, he completely blew my mind. We were stopped at a stoplight on Bardstown Road, and I was complaining about how I'd spent my youth reading Shakespeare and practicing the piano, when I should have been learning about plumbing. He then reached his left hand behind him and somehow managed to pull a Monkey Wrench out of his truck without missing a beat. He also said something about plumbing manuals being written in iambic pentameter. Friend-with-a-truck-AND-a-poet!

I wonder if he has dental.

Anyway, I now have in my possession a red monkey wrench. And I'm going to go home shortly and rip that sink apart.

Plumbers: stand-by.

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Wednesday, February 4, 2009

The many talents of P-Searcy. (sort of like P-Diddy)

Category: Friends
I was unsure what to write about today. I thought about writing about how completely stubborn I am and how the most frustrating thing about still having no heat or electricity is that I've had to rely on other people for basic needs. Not being able to take care of myself is making me crazy.

Then I started thinking about my fantastic friends who have been there for me the past week (and really, who have been there for years), and I was just amazed at how incredible these people are.

So today's blog is about my cool friend, Peter, who is one of those people who is good at everything. You know, he'll just decide he's interested in something, give it a go, and suddenly he's the #1-ranked tennis player in Kentucky in his age division. (I might have gotten that fact wrong, but, he's some superlative.) We all know he's a great singer and songwriter and cellist and plays just about every other stringed instrument too. But he's also a great painter. Check out his MySpace to see the adorable paintings of his kitties and doggies that he did. And he makes a hell of a Taco salad.

Recently, he decided to try his hand at video production. As a former professional TV producer, I am giving a mostly non-biased opinion, that his new video is fantastic. He teamed up with Chris Witzke and produced a video for his song "In the Morning," that looks smokin' hot. Thought I'd share:

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Tuesday, February 3, 2009

My high school journal.

Current mood: moody
Category: School, College, Greek

The InKY Reading Series is throwing a party on Saturday night in Louisville, and I agreed to make an appearance. I'm not going to be singing or playing. The theme is "High School Journal" and the organizers asked a few local writers to read from, yes, their high school journals. Why did I agree to do this?

First, I tore my old bedroom apart looking for any shred of writing. I found thousands of reading notes on Faulkner and Fitzgerald and every note I took in college. I found boxes of photographs and perfect attendance awards certificates. But I couldn't find my journals.

To be honest, I never really kept a journal. I wrote some bizarre combination of partly-truth and party-fiction (Cue: Kris Kristofferson), thinking that I would eventually write a novel. Of course, I had absolutely nothing of import to say, and I was strangely aware of that at the time. Every fifth sentence is something like: "Wow, I can't believe how insignificant my problems are." It's horribly painful to read. I haven't decided which entries I'll be sharing with the audience on Saturday.

In honor of High School, I thought I'd fill out one of those silly MySpace surveys that high schoolers do:

1. What are you wearing? A t-shirt and a hoodie and jeans, and plastic target bags around my cowboy boots. It's been my outfit for the past week.
2. What did you do last night? Cooked Thai food at my current shelter and went to Highland Coffee to write a blog. Played my ol' Gibson Archtop on the couch.
4. Last gift recieved? A wooden spoon. It's like a tiny little present.
(for the record, the myspace survey mispelled "received," not me)
5. Describe the last picture you were in? Someone at Highland Coffee this morning took a photo of my feet wearing my Target bags.
6. Last thing you ate? Leftover Thai food.
7. Last thing you drank? Water.
8. What kind of underwear are you wearing? Red.
9. What was your best vacation? I don't really take vacations. I tour a lot though, and my favorite one was the UK tour with Peter this fall. Second-favorite was Scotland with Lyzz when I was in college.
10. What are you most looking foward to in the next vacation? Texas Stonehenge just outside of Kerrville.
11. What is happening around you? Other people without power are on their laptops, just as I am.
12. What is your shoe size? 6.5, extra wide.
13. Last event you dressed up for? New Year's Eve.
14. Biggest pet peeve? When people get in the left lane and are secretly planning to turn left, but don't put on their turn signal until after the light changes to green. And when concerts don't start on time.
15. What is the most expensive thing you have on right now? My cowboy boots. Although, the Target bags might have cost more when you add up all that money you somehow end up spending when you go to Target.
16. What is your favorite smell? Garlic and onions sauteeing in the house. And Oriental lilies. But not together.
17. Is there something you really want to buy right now? The Roland midi accordion.
19. What are you nicknames? My parents call me "Red." (imaginative) Peter calls me "BK." Most people just say "hey."
20. Funniest thing said today? Today has not been funny. My car's stuck in the ice and my back hurts. I am not laughing.
21. What are your plans for today? Taking the bus back to my place to see if the power's on.
22. Describe your myspace picture. I'm holding a saw and violin bow quite majestically, if i do say so myself.
23. What did you do this weekend? Lived like a vagabond, flitted and fleeted around the city, wrote songs, hung out with some great friends. I had a lot of fun, considering I've been without power for a week now.
24. Favorite brand of clothes? I'm not a shopper. I'm a thrift-store girl.
25. What is your ringtone? the classic Old-Phone Ring that everyone with an iPhone has. And for a few select people, it's "Dream Weaver."

Info on the High School Journal Party, from InKY's website:
Featuring performances by adventurer and university administrator Tori Murden McClure, WFPK's Laura Shine, novelist Brian Leung, musician Brigid Kaelin, writer Crystal Wilkinson, The Courier-Journal lifestyles editor David Daley, music journalists Peter Berkowitz and Jeffrey Lee Puckett, with music courtesy of the Bourbon Brothers (Charles Spivey and WFPK'sMichael Youngof Roots n' Boots). Plus free food and drinks.
Tickets are a $30 tax-deductible donation to InKY (or 2 for $50)
Saturday, February 7, 2009
The Green Building
732 East Market Street
Louisville, Kentucky

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Sunday, February 1, 2009

Still no heat, but all's well in my world.

Current mood: adventurous
Category: Life

I still have no power at my house.

When the power was out for eight days in September, it was actually a beautiful week. The sun didn't set until 7:30, and the neighbors hosted many a Scrabble tournament and hootenanny in their front yards. The weather was a perfect 72degrees, and everyone was in a good mood.

Losing your power in January when it's 20-30 degrees outside is not quite as pleasant, but it has been maybe even more fun. Since last Tuesday, I have slept in five different houses, moving before overstaying my welcome. I left my bag of organic carrots at Erin's house. I left my Ben & Jerry's at Peter's studio. I'm sure I've left many a long-red-hair on various floors and couches and guest beds. Sorry, folks, I tend to shed.

Things I've learned this week:
1. Plastic grocery bags (I absolutely detest them and am a canvas-bag shopper) are perfect to wear around your cowboy boots to make them waterproof. I'm currently sporting Target bags. I can step in all kinds of piles of snirt.
2. Snirt is a word I'd forgotten about. You know, when the snow stops being all pretty and gets mixed in with the dirt. When I was a kid, I thought I'd invented that word.
3. It's great to have a friend with a truck. My car was buried under an ice tree, and I had to haul my equipment (keyboard, guitar, accordion, cables, saws, etc) to a show last night. Thanks, friend-with-a-truck. I had no idea how fun it is to drive through snow in a truck.
4. There is nothing better than music and friends to keep your spirits high when your house is 30 degrees. I know I sound like a Hallmark card, but seriously, I have had so much fun this week running around like a hobo. I danced to Johnny Berry, danced to the Muckrakers, wrote songs with one of my awesome friend Shannon, played a show with my other awesome friend Peter, roved around town, and laughed harder than I have in ages.
5. I think I secretly like power outages. It reminds me of being on the road. A different bed every night and good good music all day long.

thanks, Charles, for letting me use your internet.


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