In which I'm called out by Lizz Winstead for being a dorkus.

While working yesterday, I was scrolling through Twitter, (one of those things is true,) and I read that Lizz Winstead was going to be in Frederick, MD for her Tour for Planned Parenthood. I was planning on heading home and reading like a fiend during the biblical storm that we had, but I also kind of wanted to get out of the house. I like the world outside of my living room walls. Matt had to work until midnight so I texted a couple of friends to see if anyone was free, but it was very short notice for them to get babysitters or they had other plans. Of course, given the political nature of Winstead's humor and the fact that Planned Parenthood would be receiving any money raised, many of my local (conservative or politically apathetic) friends would not have wanted to come in the first place. Bummed about living in a dreadfully red county in the middle of a blue state, I decided I should just go alone... but, what about Maggie?

Ugh. I know it's lame. Maggie has mastered the guilt trip. When it becomes clear to her that Matt and I are headed out of the house, she will get excited... This is sad because we know she's not coming. It's like high school when the popular kids ask if you want to go out and your nerdly friend assumes she's hanging out with you, per usual. You don't want to hurt her feelings, but you have to find a way to ditch her. (Also, you're an asshole, if any of this is true.)

If one of us makes the mistake of opening the front door without caution, she will run to the patio and turn into stone. It's neither fun nor easy to drag a sad, uncooperative 65 pound dog back into the house. Next, she will grab her seatbelt harness or her leash with a pathetically sad face, communicating that she knows she has to stay home, even though these things exist that grant her access to outside. Maggie also likes the world outside of these walls.

I feel like I've been gone a lot lately, and as a result, she's been extra needy. Knowing she was abandoned by her first family, it's a little harder to deal with those sad eyes, and so, I tweeted my Friday night, dog-freak, loser status:

Which was met with this response:

Maybe she was kidding, but also, maybe she was thinking, Jesus Christ. Do you ever leave your house? I just publicly declared on Twitter that I'm a loser who lets her dog dictate her Friday night. I really had no choice at this point... 

I love Twitter and the fact that this woman who I do not know but greatly admire convinced me to stop being a dork and leave my house. The show was a riot, including the opening comedienne, Meshelle. (<~~ Click, watch, laugh.)

Lizz said that one of the great things about coming to these shows is everyone can look around and think, Thank God, I'm not alone! Seriously. I love the conservatives in my life but the constant barrage of hateful political speak that I hear, read, and try to avoid, is disheartening. Being in a small room filled with men and women who knew what to expect at a Planned Parenthood show, who walked past protesters singing about money and murder, who had the doors opened for them by police security, filled my spirit with a more concentrated version of the camaraderie I felt amongst thousands of like-minded folks at last year's Rally To Restore Sanity.

After finding a way to get a roomful of people to laugh about politicians who are trying to strip women of their rights, (among so many other jacked up things,) she shared how Planned Parenthood helped her, without judgement, when she was a teenager. She said that her story is not extraordinary, and that there are a thousand young women who find themselves in the same situation. This is why Planned Parenthood is necessary.

Yes, they perform abortions. No, that is not their main objective. Only 3% of their services are abortion services. No, federal tax dollars are not funding them. They also provide birth control, pap tests, breast exams, and other life-saving health screens for women who cannot otherwise afford them.

Many thanks to Lizz Winstead:

~ for co-creating The Daily Show.
~ for introducing Rachel Maddow to the world.
~ for using your gift of intellectual comedy to raise money for Planned Parenthood.
~ for getting my lame ass out of my house last night.

PS. Those blue t-strap heels you were wearing? Hot.

Saturday morning freewriting. Dad, Navel-gazing, Decisions, Neko Case.

My brain is a little fuzzy today, hence, the bullet form post. 

- My dad is okay. This is definitely worthy of a full post and maybe I'll get around to it. But, the important thing is, his test results ruled out the big C word. (Not that one. Cancer, you filthy bastard.) He still needs to figure out what the deal is with his blood work, but all of the other possible diagnoses seem much more manageable. He needs to stick around for a while longer. 

- Trying to be less navel-gazey and keep my mind and body busy. I've been running, reading, writing, and spending as much time outside as possible while the days are light and long. It turns out, doing things that make me happy is more effective than moping around pondering happiness. 

- I think I need to write about how I signed up for some classes and why I dropped them a few weeks later. But I'm afraid it will get too navel-gazey. In case I never revisit this topic, in a nutshell, I made an impulsive decision to go back to school. That wasn't such a terrible idea, but there are a lot of other bigger things that I need to be thinking about right now. Huge commitments and life-long decisions. 2012 should be a big year and I need to start being responsible. 

- Dave and I went to see Neko Case and My Morning Jacket. I really only went to see Neko because I missed her at the Black Cat in DC, which would have probably been a better way to see her. Her set was too short, but very beautiful. We left halfway through My Morning Jacket. They were good, but we had to go.  I would love to write more about this but it's Slacktacular Saturday and I need a nap, so I leave you with some Neko tunes to get to know. 

 

*Note. I titled this post as Saturday morning freewriting, and yet, I'm publishing it at 5:25 PM. I had NO idea. I have done nothing of substance today. I feel like I'm 19. Going back to bed now. 

Frightened Rabbit and Death Cab For Cutie

Last night, my friend Renee and I spent the humid summer night listening to the magical sounds of Ben Gibbard and Death Cab For Cutie at Merriweather Post Pavilion. After finally seeing them live, I am sad that I missed them at the 9:30 Club a couple of months ago. As engaged as I was from a blanket on the lawn last night, I can only imagine how incredible it would have been in a club setting.

Opening for DCFC was Scottish band Frightened Rabbit. Frontman Scott Hutchison proved to be charming and a little bit cheeky... the perfect combination for a lead singer. They ended their set with a fan favorite, "Keep Yourself Warm," offering the sage advice that it "takes more than fucking someone you don't know to keep yourself warm.... you won't find love in a hole." Everything sounds better with an accent, right? I wasn't so offended, but I guess based on this tweet, some people were: 

Oh well. You can't please everyone, right? I'm not a big fan of the C word, but that tweet did make me laugh. If your virgin ears are offended by colorful language or imagery, don't watch/listen to this video. Otherwise, enjoy. 

 

Last week, my husband and I were in the car. I must have been connected to my senses or something because I couldn't stop myself from pointing out beautiful things. "Look how the sun is breaking through the clouds!" "Wow, look at the colors on that bird!" Soul Meets Body started to play in the car. It had been a while since I listened to it and even though I've heard it a million times, these lyrics brought tears to my eyes. Matt's eyes rolled as I said, "ohhh, aren't these lyrics lovely?" 

And I do believe it's true, that there are roads left in both of our shoes, 

but if the silence takes you then I hope it takes me, too. 

So brown eyes, I hold you near, cause you're the only song I want to hear, 

A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere. 

Knowing this concert was approaching, I started listening to all of my Death Cab again. I was so happy last night to hear another one of my favorites, Grapevine Fires. 

So, it was hot last night. Brutally hot. Humid and just gross. Even our purses were sweating. The one good thing I can say about the weather is that the curse of the lawn seats seems to have been broken as it did not rain during the show. Both singers last night commented very eloquently about the weather. Scott Hutchison said it was "consistently moist all day"which he appreciated. Ew. (Seriously, you can say whatever the hell you want with an accent and it's a little more okay than the same words coming out of an American guy's mouth.) Ben Gibbard, whose pants appeared to be leather but were actually just completely sopping wet from sweat, (another thing I only know because Twitter told me so,) said that the night just went from "regular hot to balls hot." Fine. Hipster Seattle boys can say whatever they want, too. It was a little worrisome when he started asking if the rest of us were hallucinating along with him. His Pacific Northwest blood just couldn't take the Mid-Atlantic heat, I guess. 

Risking dehydration and heat stroke, DCFC put on a great show. They started their set with one of my favorite songs to run to, "I Will Possess Your Heart." It's nice, long, steady, and picturing Ben Gibbard running a marathon is also kind of motivating as I embark on my 2-3 mile jog. Ben is pretty fun to watch on stage, jumping around to even the slower, ballady songs. Hoping they come back soon to 9:30 or better yet, Ram's Head Live! 

8/7/11 Merriweather Set List

I Will Possess Your Heart

Crooked Teeth

Why You'd Want To Live Here

A Movie Script Ending

Doors Unlocked

Long Division

Grapevine Fires

Codes and Keys

We Looked Like Giants (possibly out of order.)

I Will Follow You Into The Dark

Title and Registration

You Are A Tourist

The New Year

Some Boys

Soul Meets Body

Cath

Marching Bands of Manhattan

ENCORE

Home Is A Fire

Photobooth

The Sound of Settling

Transatlanticism 

It's your mother. Pick up the phone.

My mom called today. It wasn't a good time to talk. I had just returned to the office from lunch and was working on a report, but since it wasn't a good time the last few times that she called, I answered the phone.

Just a few days ago, she called asking if we could go shopping... like, could I get in my car and come get her immediately. I told her that I was busy. I was cleaning the house and had to get ready for a dinner date with Matt and our friends. What about tomorrow? Uh, I already made plans with another friend in the middle of the day. The mall would be closed by the time I finished. While on the phone with her, my dad sent a text. "You need to call your mom. She needs you to spend more time with her." Pa-pow. Double whammy. An hour or so later, in between laundry loads, I was running on the treadmill. Matt was napping on the couch after working an early morning shift. My parents knocked on the door for a surprise visit. It was a little bit awkward, and yes, I was annoyed, but I tried to have some compassion. I know what it's like to have to get out of the house for a little while. To be lonely. To crave a conversation with someone that isn't your spouse. They said they'd leave after just a few minutes, but I insisted that they stay for a while. They left after just a few minutes.

I feel terrible that I haven't made time for my parents. I have been so focused on trying to answer huge questions in my life, that I haven't carved out the time to spend with the ones who made my life possible. They are going through a tough time right now. I know it's terribly selfish, but I'm not sure how to deal with their spells of unhappiness, so...  maybe I've been avoiding them.  It makes me deeply sad that they struggle with the same questions that I often have. I want my mom and dad to have all of the answers. I want my parents to be at peace and to stop worrying. I want to know that it's possible to be at peace and to stop worrying. I'm not their little 8 year old anymore though, so I guess it's normal for them to reach out to me, but it's scary to not have any solutions. It sucks that all I can do is commiserate. I can't fix their problems... especially the ones that I didn't even know about. My parents are usually pretty good at keeping secrets.

Today, my mom called to talk to me about my dad. They both wanted to watch the news, but since they are political opposites, they couldn't agree on the channel to watch. I took a deep breath. I tuned her out for a moment as she lamented over our corrupt government and her Republican husband. I agreed with her thoughts on the debt ceiling deal, but, I have work to do! I can't fix America's problems, but if I could do my job, I could at least help one person out there find employment... I was half listening.

"President Obama should have..."

(I need to hire an Equipment Operator)

"Ugh, but your father thinks that..."

(update this board report)

"anyway..."

(I should really reorganize my files)

"let me know when you have time for coffee. Or orange juice."

(Orange juice? My mom is a goofy broad.)

"Maybe next week after his appointment with the oncologist." 

Now that she had my attention, she didn't have much more to say. It might be nothing. Do people go to oncologists when it might be nothing? Don't say anything to Dad. Let him figure out what is going on first. She said she had to go and she'd let me get back to work. I wanted to talk more, but it wasn't a good time for her to talk.