I fell so hard

I find it therapeutic to put myself in new situations involving a rather Phoenix-like Ctrl+Alt+Delete. But, between burning it down and building it back up is usually the most lengthy, emotional, and taxing. It can be a wearisome job to live without roots or rules. So, I've become an expert at dangling in limbo and I do it with diligent regularity.

Before

To dangle is in essence to float but also to be in the precarious state of almost falling. Dangling denotes risk, precision, fragility; to be suspended in between two things that may or may not be comfortable, to attach barnacle-like to the fine line. To dangle requires assiduous concentration and painstaking practice. It also requires bravery and resolution, to be have purpose even in the unknown. Dangling defies gravity with a shrug and another try.

After some practice

Three years in Austin have been a good lesson in dangling and in limbo. This is a place and people very hard to define and even more difficult to embrace. Fortunately, if there was ever a place to practice dangling gracefully and with comfort, it is in Texas.

Here's to 3 years and many more happy years to come.

Love you, Texas!

Quality and Quantity

Enjoying SXSW is sort of like moving to a new city. I moved here almost 3 years ago and it has truly taken this long to get the hang of things and feel comfortable. The same principles apply to one of the biggest, most rowdy, most complicated music festivals and conferences in the world.

At first, you hang out with the wrong crowd, the first group that will have you, because you're too scared to brave the crowded, filthy streets of Austin by yourself. You make mistakes like inappropriate footwear, drinking too much, showing up too late to get in, and pledging blind allegiance to your boyfriend's favorite shitty band. Skinny jeans and garbage filled alleys are intimidating at first but then seem almost normal by the end. You learn a few street names and survival skills. You don't regret it but you're not convinced you had as much fun as everyone else claims to have had. Your head aches and you don't really like your friends as much as you thought (and definitely don't trust their taste in music).

Alt J at Stubbs

The next year you feel much more independent. You get your own wristband during pre-sale. Your research is your own, carefully curating a list of bands that you want to see. Convincing people to come with you is easier since they are beginning to trust your judgement and can't deny your commitment to music. You're on a text list and eek out an RSVP existence. You totally call one of the next up and coming bands and you get a high five from someone you really admire musically. Breaking away from the group to see your chosen playlist is nearly tolerable and you see way more bands than you did the year before because you're not hauling drama or naysayers along with you. Not quite part of a group yet, but bolder, braver, more equipped. Your head still aches but you feel happy you came and look forward to the year to come.

The third year you nail it. The perfect balance of toxins, water, and sleep deprivation is mastered. Your playlist is the perfect combo of worn-in must-sees and experimental must-trys. Your pack members are carefully chosen but expendable and scattered evenly across many venues. When an accomplice gives you trouble or has an opposing lineup, you shed them sans guilt like a free t-shirt. You run into people you know everywhere and the shared experience turns acquaintances into friends and friends into lovers. You learn that you'd give up toilet paper before you'd give up your bike. Your head still aches, but you accept it as a natural bi-product of a week's worth of smoke, chemicals, alcohol, loud music, and sheer exhaustion.

No, you don't just accept it...you embrace it with pride and congratulate yourself on being one of the survivors. Three years in and I've finally got both quantity and quality and easily the best SXSW memories to date.
Sunday, March 10
Ume
Cloud Nothings
Portugal. The Man
Azari & III
Zeale

Tuesday, March 12
Elle King
ZZ Ward
Divine Fits
Cirque du Soleil
Whoever was at Lucky Lounge

Wednesday, March 13
Cafe Tacvba
Yeah Yeah Yeahs
Alt J

Thursday, March 14
Capital Cities
The Sheepdogs
Fitz and The Tantrums
City and Colour

Friday, March 15
Clairy Brown & the Bangin' Rackettes
Doldrums
Austra
Toro Y Moi
Alt J
Some cool jazz band at the Camel House
Walk Off the Earth
Lissie
Savages
Youth Lagoon

Saturday, March 16
No
Some awesome gypsy violin band from Ireland
Kids These Days
Field Report
Hacienda
Some other bands at Outlaw Roadshow??
Neon Lion
Drop City Yacht Club
Small Black
Haim
Vampire Weekend

Cheers! Thanks a lot!

Because I won't have time tomorrow and because work is an irritating distraction from all the smells coming from my oven, writing some words of thanks to use up a unit seem appropriate. 

Thank you, family! When I need you, miles and miles of distance doesn't even phase you. You make it better. Everything, you make it better.

Thank you, friends! My DC family is like a blankie I can't be without and I'm so grateful for the years I spent with you. You guys showed me what real friendship looks like and that is a rare and valuable gift. My new Texas family has been a long time coming but in the last 6 months, you have picked me up, dusted me off (or rather, dunked me in the river), and pointed me in the right direction on a path more my own. I'm not alone anymore and I'm so glad I finally found you.

I love my new home. I'm so grateful I get to be in this beautiful space everyday and call it my own. Not only is it infinitely more functional and equipped than any place I've lived before, it is also a fortress that unhappiness cannot penetrate. I'm thankful for granite countertops, closets, and surround sound. I'm thankful for my sunny sewing room. I'm thankful so many people have shared fun with me at Chez Ahrens and I'm thankful for the help I got making this place feel like home. I'm even grateful for plumbers, electricians, and Zilker event street closures. I'm especially grateful for Zilker events!

I'm somehow finally thankful for the terrible situation that got me this new home. Though swimming to shore was challenging, I'm grateful I knew when to jump ship. One must, must have gratitude for any lesson learned.

Thank you, neighbors, for not hating me. May the universe shower you with luck and happiness. I'm loud but I promise to always have whiskey and pasta on hand to make up for it. Your tolerance is a precious gift.

And, as always, I'm thankful for my sweet dog who continues to remind me that love exists. I simply cannot put into words how much she means so hopefully this will suffice: She is the dollop of homemade whipped cream on my pumpkin pie. And that's saying something.

Check out those seat covers. Roger That.

ACL is Austin's best binge, in my opinion. This year was highly anticipated and didn't disappoint, though my toxin levels are severely in the red. It was particularly noteworthy because I now live in Zilker Park, about .25 mile from the festivities. My condo was turned into a rowdy, loud squatter camp for boozers, dancers, travelers from afar, and the hungry. It was brilliant!

Communication at the festival is notoriously a problem but it also adds a creative challenge to the mix that can be wildly fun to solve, should you be so inclined. When you're crammed into a downtown city park with 130 bands, 8 different stages, and over 70,000 drunken, chemically-altered concert goers, you can forget about using your cell phone or checking in on Facebook. This year we tried walkie talkies...not because they work better than T-Mobile or help you find your lost friends but because talking on them is hilarious and having one is your hand is cool as shit. Some rules of engagement:

Fab shades

• Say "Roger that" after everything said into a walkie talkie. You can say "Roger that niner over and out cuuuuuusch" as well for added effect. 
• Come up with your own group language so that outsiders don't know what the hell you're talking about. Bonus points if truck drivers can decode your made up language. 
• Make friends with everyone else on your channel and respond to them with far out nonsense that makes them laugh. 
• Don't give both walkie talkies to one person.

Nom Nom Nom

Additional lessons include:

• Don't pee during the month of October. This frees up lots of additional time in front of stages. 
• Make your own ACL Bingo game. Include things like a Texas flag tattoo, a baby in headphones, and someone not wearing pants. Here's mine.
• Drunk people write the funniest stuff if you give them markers and large, washable pallets. 
• If there is any threat of rain, wear white. You will be given a free poncho by a handsome, kind boy and make lots of new friends.
• Avoid the lines at the food trucks and have food delivered to your tarp by those in need of karmic re-up.
• Rusty will find you. Even in a mosh pit. Even in the dark. He is a ninja.
• Sneak in whiskey.  
• See Jack White.
• Drown out the complaints of boring neighbors by turning the music up louder.

With the help of an epic band of gypsies, this was the best ACL (quite possibly the best music festival) yet! Next year, ACL is throwing my birthday party so expect more of the same. Music is fuel (and so is Rumchata)!!

Warren Buffet can thank me later

I checked my Mint.com account recently and was playing around with their comparison budget tools. Pretty nifty until I got to the part where it compared 2010's spending habits to 2011's. The differences are striking, especially in the music category.

Pre-Austin, it appears I spent around $100 annually on concert tickets (a few shows at best). In 2011, that number increased 10 fold without even factoring in all the tickets bought for me by others which were substantial. Add in all the money spent on booze and the occasional t-shirt and you're looking at a degenerate music junkie who would sell plasma to see shows should I ever loose my job. If it weren't so much fun, I'd be alarmed.

I don't think of this as money wasted or even spent, however. I consider it an investment. According to Wikipedia, an investment is putting money into something with the expectation of gain, even the security of a return. This precisely defines what I do when I buy concert tickets. Music is an investment in life, happiness, relationships, musical prowess, boredom alleviation, intellectual complexity, and so many more things.

Sure, sometimes you invest and you don't see a return (such as the Modest Mouse show at Stubbs). But, sometimes your ROI is stupendous. The net gain from shows like Edward Sharpe, Grace Potter, Awolnation, Bright Light Social Hour, Friendly Fires, Gaygns, Young the Giant, or Muse far surpasses the initial investment. I wouldn't take that money back for anything.

It isn't just what music is worth in comparison to other investments we make. It is the whole host of intangibles you get for investing in that way. It has never let me down unlike most of my other monetary investments. I have no intention to decrease the amount put towards these most valuable expenditures.

Wikipedia also says that putting money towards something without the the security of return is considered gambling, an activity I do not care for generally. That being said, I have tickets to every major concert happening in Austin from now until late May and many of these bands are not my favorites. I'll label those for now as speculation though. I've found that with music you have to spend to "make."

Douchy bars are a dime a dozen in most larger cities. This is strategic I assume. Like likes like, after all. You simply cannot mix all types happily. People are not like Midwestern casseroles. As a seasoned bar goer and lifetime alcohol enthusiast, I've found myself in my fair share of drinkeries in need of a lower pH. Austin, naturally, has healthy options when it comes to douche dens and I'd like to point out a few should you be in need or adamant about avoiding.

Kingdom, a daycare that plays loud music

Hoards of strangely dressed children flock to this douche gem. Those with fake ids you'll stand next to at the bar. The others hang out in the dingy alley outside the club. The music is indistinguishable and the decor forgettable. But, if you're looking for a full-body version of the Hitachi Magic Wand, by all means, get thee in front of the wall of bass speakers. It is fabulous, until you realize the only other people in the room are Texas versions of Snooky and the Situation. Another thing of Vagisillian beauty is the glowing silhouette wall where you can find Austin's finest greasy meatheads and scantily clad bimbos posing for Facebook photos. It is a thing of wonder.

Qua, a conservationist nightmare

This place is true royalty when it comes to the the lavish fakeness and severe misguidedness of douch bags. They actually have a shark tank in the floor. Now, I know my politics lean left and I've been accused of being a naive bleeding heart, but sharks underfoot as decor is simply going too far. I wish I had anything good to say about Qua but the only thing I can come up with is I hope they soon sell the excellently located property to another, more tasteful douche proprietor.


Rebels, charming country with a hint of vinegar

Rebels is an urban honky tonk. I consider this a bit of an oxymoron but I love me some Dwight Yoakam and I can't be bothered to go all the way to Gruene so they get a pass. Just like the movie, this place is filled with urban folks with no business in hats and boots. Pearl snaps, fancy country swing, and an over-sized buckle does not a cowboy make. Luckily, they distract you with the most voluptuous bartenders in town dressed in outfits that would make your mama go straight to the Old Testament for advice. Ride the mechanical bull before you get too drunk lest you too become a master in the art of douchebaggery. Leave before the hip hop line dancers set in. Of all the douche joints in town though, this is my favorite for its charm, personality, and heavy pours.

The rainbow after the tears are gone

It is not easy to win the affection of a boyfriend's friends. The approval rating usually ends up somewhere between tolerance and murderous spite. But, nothing is more valuable to a girl trying to land a man than a "gold star" from his best friend. That is why this week is so hard. I didn't just get a thumbs up from Travis Sampley. He was my biggest fan and the feeling was mutual.

Travis, AK, and I spent the last year on a whirlwind of rowdy adventures all over Texas. We were the 3 musketeers. We did everything together it seemed. All of my most fun and memorable moments since moving to Austin included him. We traveled in a pack, literally, walking home together (he lived just a few blocks away). Inseparable barely covers it.

He was my most enthusiastic kitchen guinea pig, gobbling down even the most inedibly tough steak and over-salted fish like he was eating first class at III Forks. He rarely even asked what I was making before agreeing to come over and he always brought my favorite Zinfandel.

My constant heckling for his taste in slow, emotive music didn't

Outside Sidebar hitting on chicks

deter him at all from turning off my tunes immediately upon arrival to plug in his iPhone. Every ride in my car started with, "Have you heard the new [insert band I've never heard of here]?" and a reach for the aux cord. He invited me to the most obscure concerts and taught me why vinyl sounds best. He introduced me to music far beyond my comfort zone and I ended up eating my words every time.

Most importantly, he liked me. Not just because he was obligated to. And, I liked him. Not just because I was obligated to. I looked forward to him like he was my own pack member and eventually that's what he became.

His sudden death makes me feel strange. I'm overwhelmed with sadness with spurts of disbelief. Sharing this grief with so many people is simultaneously comforting but also selfishly difficult. I'm watching my man's heart break and it is unimaginably painful. I don't think I'm alone in wishing that there could be just one more moment to say goodbye. In situations like this, I suppose it is natural. But, what would I say if I had that chance?

After Travis' birthday party at G&S

How do you put into words the solidarity of a friendship that strong? How would you let them know how much you appreciate the joy they bring to your life? Could you really express how much you'll miss them and how much you don't want them to go? I doubt it. Sometimes there are just no words. That is the blessing of death I guess. You can't and so you don't. You just feel it and know it and that has to be enough.

His absence will also be distinctly felt and known...at every party, at every bar, at every concert. His absence will just be distinct. Because someone like Travis doesn't go unnoticed.

I'm sending love and healing to his family and friends. We might have lost a rare one, but there isn't enough gratitude in the universe to match the thanks I have to have known him.

That's How Strong My Love Is by Ryan Bingham

Kind of like being hit by a bus...only way more awesome

In honor of the 10th anniversary of the legendary Austin City Limits Music Festival (and because my lust for music is rapid and insatiable), I couldn't resist expressing some gratitude. Also, I can hardly sit still with all the excitement for my 3rd festival. Work is an irritating distraction.

My appetite for music is hereditary, given to me by equal parts crazy rockin' mama and dance floor karaoke extraordinaire pops. I cannot imagine a time in my life music wasn't playing. Even as an infant I was lulled to sleep by Aerosmith and George Straight. My new life in Austin has indulged my craving for tunes and I may be forever hooked on the unending, unspeakably amazing music that passes through this town.

I was talking to a friend and fellow music lover about those moments watching live music where one is simply stunned into blissful silence, unable to move, talk, or hear anything but the music. Afterward, that moment is permanently and vividly tattooed into memory. The song's meaning is forever changed and you cannot listen to it without being transported back. You're the same age, doing the same thing with the same people in an instant when you hear that song.

I was thrilled to know someone else had those moments and I was even more tickled that some of those moments AK and I had had together. Not necessarily together together. But, at the same time on our own at the same shows. These are private moments, you see. But it is wonderful to know that the person standing next to you at the concert had felt the same. I was almost getting choked up talking about it. I strongly recommend these brief jolts of harmony to everyone...if you haven't had one, you haven't lived.

Also, when I thought about it, a number of mine have indeed happened at the ACL Festival. I don't always even LOVE the song, but feeling was powerful. Here are some of my favorites (actual recordings from ACL):

Everybody Knows, John Legend, 2009 (This was worth not finding my friends again for the rest of the day.)


Paris, Grace Potter and the Nocturnals, 2010 (she had people in line at 11am wondering where the hell she had been their whole life)


Sweet Disposition, The Temper Trap, 2010 (this song drifted beautifully across the whole park...everyone stopped to listen even if you'd never heard the song before)


Home, Edward Sharpe, 2010 (i pretty much stood in stunned silence this whole show but this song was one of the best...tied with 40 Day Dream)


Uprising, Muse, 2010 (his guitar playing was ethereal)


And Phoenix. And Kings of Leon. And Andrew Bird. And Ryan Bingham, Bassnectar, Carolyn Wonderland... And that's only 2 year's worth.

Between work and hurt and whiskey

On this day one year ago, I ate Chinese take-out from one of my favorite places in DC and then closed the door on the most important chapter of my life so far to begin a new adventure in Texas. I cried on the way to the airport as I watched my beautiful city go past, knowing it wasn't my city anymore. And then I cried most of the flight. And then I cried some more. Saying goodbye to my most precious and long-time friends, friends that had pretty much become my family, was one of the most terrifying and sad moments I've had.

I've thought about that day almost every day since with varied emotion. I'm overwhelmingly lonely at times but also grateful that I was able to shed the stale life I was living in DC for something new and different. I didn't know then if it would work out and I still don't. But, here I am.

Trying to replace my dear friends was the hardest. It was hard because it simply cannot be done. I get that now. The realization was, briefly, quite hopeless. But, now I try to remind myself that new friends can't be made overnight and being comfortable doesn't always come easily. That was the whole point of this move, after all, Rach. Comfort and me have always been at odds. It is one of my most devastating and delightful psychological defects.

Luckily, Austin has its charms. A city so full of music can heal even the most damaged outlook on life. I love the area and weather and calendar of events. I found an amazing man and some good friends to show me the lay of this very strange, very large land. I've shot guns, rode horses, cooked over flames, two stepped, smoked joints, and watched football, just like a real Texan. My boots are properly worn in.

I've also made my small mark. Some people in Austin now say darling with a little more daawwwwl. Folks sworn to hunting dogs have a new-found soft spot for Shih Tzus. Corn and Velveeta are becoming dietary staples. Muumuus are...um...ok, fine, still not in style, but I've only been here a year. There is hope.

One year in, I'm really happy to be here of course. But, I still miss the familiarity of my East Coast life a lot and, most of all, I miss my people. Tonight the whiskey I intend to drink will be both celebratory and therapeutic. DC may get a few drunken phone calls tonight from a happy/sad Texan.

Don't Think I Don't Think About It by Darius Rucker

Shockingly, I did manage to retain some information from SXSW Interactive. One interesting session I attended was how to choose and manage a successful team. I do not manage employees myself, but I've worked at an organization with absolutely no concept of team, teamwork, or management skills so I was intrigued.

One analogy that I particularly enjoyed was a spin on operating a motorcycle. Motorcycles, being fast, bouncy, windy deathtraps with no balance and terrible acoustics are typically of no interest to me. However, my Dad drives a Harley and I'm obligated to compliment it when I am in Nebraska. My Dad also likes analogies.

The presenter had taken the required riding course and used the instruction to "look not at what you might hit but instead where you wish to go." If you look at obstructions in the road, you will probably hit them. I guess that's how you avoid a head injury when driving motorcycles and be an effective manager. Charming.

It is easy to dwell on possible immediate threats instead of looking willfully to the distance. I actually used to be good at this but overdraft fees, 40 hours a week in a cube, and dating in Washington, DC beat it out of me. I look straight down or slightly to the side from now on personally. And you should too if you don't want to be a naively idealistic, chronically-unsatisfied doormat. I should give it another try though. Really, I should.

Along those lines (but mostly unrelated), I am moving in with a male later this week. It is equal parts terrifying and thrilling, shaken, then gently stirred, with a lovesick garnish. Luckily, he is truly amazing and he gets along with my dog. It is predicted to be the best thing in the history of cohabitation. If there was ever a time to look at where I want to be instead of what I might smack painfully into face-first, it is now. He doesn't have a motorcycle but he does have a truck so I think I'm safe.

Totally unrelated...there was an armadillo walking down the sidewalk outside my apartment on Friday. That is TEXAN!

http://notbeige.blogspot.com

Guilty Filthy Soul

I survived my first SXSW in Austin with relatively minimal brain damage and only minor bodily harm. Just so I remember for next year, here are some tips for having a kickass SXSW and making it out alive (even making it to work the following Monday).

1. Plan to brave it alone.

Like traveling abroad, I was having trouble finding someone who shared both my enthusiasm for the event and a similar or complementary list of bands to see. In a moment of diva independence, I bought the wristband anyway. Muttering "Hell with it. I'll go by my damn self," I vowed to let music, not another person, be my guide. I'm not popular in this town yet and I figured it would help me befriend some like-minded music lovers at the very least.

2. Find someone to see music with.

As the event neared and the town started to fill up with scary-looking, dirty-haired folks who were all far too thin and being compressed into black jeans that would put even Kate Moss into a bad mood, I decided it best not to brave it alone. So, I found some amazing characters last-minute with which to share tabs, parking permits, and mutual awe of the fine tunage. Their company elevated my fun to levels almost too much for words. I am so grateful to have shared the chaos with them and look forward to the stories we'll recollect. (Future conversations with these folks will probably start with something like "Remember when we collapsed in a beanbag pile outside Lustre Pearl and drank free beer? Yeah, I hope that idiot who unplugged your cellphone has bad sex for life.")

3. Footwear is vital.

I'm used to teetering around on platform strappy sandles. Luckily, I'm not a moron. I knew I'd be walking to and from my home (about 3 miles round trip) and back and forth from downtown to East Austin several times a day (5-10 miles). I only made one tragic footwear decision: flip flops. My feet were relentlessly gashed and stomped. I limped home in regret. I never regretted paying that much for custom cowboy boots though and I still don't. Thank you Lucchese.

4. Don't party too hard.

I actually passed a deceased person on E. 6th outside a bar. The police had given up trying to revive him but cops on motorcycles don't carry sheets to cover the dead I guess. I wondered as I walked by how long the young man laid there being tripped over before someone actually checked to see if he was breathing. It was a sad reminder that certain mixtures of booze, drugs, and music can be lethal.

5. Party your ass off.

I started each day with a few hours of work and a coffee. (Aren't I a big girl?!) Next up, toxins. I wasn't necessarily trying to get fucked up. There is just something about strolling around downtown Austin in 80 degree weather in March listening to a thunderous level of music with a little buzz. Dancing like a loon and enjoying music (the good and the bad) just doesn't feel the same without a healthy dose of poison. Also, by the end of each day, my feet were aching and my eyes were drooping. I didn't go to bed before 3am for one full week. Red Bull, you are kind and brilliant for sponsoring SXSW.

6. Go with your gut.

Sure, I could have gone to Kayne, or Perez Hilton's party, or Deer Tick on the last night of SXSW. But instead I went to AWOLNATION, which ended up being the all-time best, most fun show of the whole week. It isn't my usual style of music at all. I like to call it Marilyn Manson Lite. But, I had this strange compulsion to be there, just kinda knowing it would be amazing. This band, along with the others in the showcase, rocked my tired, weary world. I was laughing out loud with delight. If i didn't think that wearing cowboy boots while crowd surfing was unethical you can bet I would have flung myself into a sea of drunken hipsters and scrawny teenagers without question. Also, my beau and I had the most amazing time hanging out with rockstars after the show. Never question those feelings that something strange and magical will happen at SXSW...if you let it happen, it surely will.

2011 Shows
Wednesday:
Brett Dennen
DeVotchKa
Flogging Molly
Random DJ next to The Hanger

Thursday:
The Strokes
T Bird and the Breaks

Friday:
Dickies Party at Lustre Pearl
Black Joe Lewis & the Honeybears
Hayes Carll
Ryan Bingham
Robert Earl Keen
Lucinda Williams
Party at Malverde
Party at ??? (long day)

Saturday:
Filter Party at Cedar Door Courtyard
Electric Touch
Tres Mts.
AWOLNATION
Panic! At the Disco
The Bravery

Burn It Down by AWOLNATION

A Man and His Fish

Planet Texas Moment #587:

Took myself on a long, exploratory walk last night down one of my favorite streets in my hood, South 1st. It is a colorful street with tiny, random shops covering an array of niche commerce from cupcakes to used neon signs. The weather was superb and I haven't donned tennies since sometime last Fall. It was time.

Best part of the night was a new friendship I made with the proprietor of a hookah shop and smoking lounge. Here's a summary of the conversation...

Dude: You should totally meet my fish.

Me: Um... [eyebrow raised]

Dude: [knocking on fish tank glass] C'mon out and meet someone!

Me: Um... [wondering why the trippy music is so loud when no one else is here]

Dude: Here-e comes! Isn't he great?! He's kinda like a puppy. The kids love 'im.

Me: ...

This was, no joke, the happiest fish in history. He was a 3 foot long, obese, whiskered eel-like creature who was, as far as I could see, wiggling with delight at the sight of his owner and smiling like a Cheshire cat. I mean, this fish was literally doing the Olive "full body wag." He was equally thrilled to see me, after he was scolded for not greeting the guest. I've never quite seen anything like it.

Thanks Redline Hookah for keeping Austin (and rest of this planet) weird.

Nighttime's Wooly Blanket

Last night was a lunar eclipse on the winter solstice. I hear this combination doesn't happen very often. I usually don't need much persuading to stay up all night drinking on a weekday so this excuse was particularly validating.

Because I have moved to paradise where 65 degrees on Dec 20 is only a little atypical, I sat outside on the sidewalk with Olive and some friends looking at the bright moon through the ancient tree branches at my apartment complex wearing flip flops and a smile. It was the perfect night for lunar gazing.

We made plans to move rooftop for some live musical eclipse accompaniment. The night had every potential for epic fabulocity. Naturally, as soon as we got there, the creepy warm temperatures blew in a foggy cloud cover from the lake that completely obscured even the outline of the moon. Even my will to cocktail suffered.

Luckily, my company was amazing (as usual) and a late-night Whataburger taquito resolved any disappointment. It was way cooler to lay in bed this morning and look at all the fab photos of the eclipse on my phone anyway.

Also, because I finally finished Awesome Wedding Mix 2010 (which, if i do say so myself, is so good I might even get some), I thought this favorite track was especially pertinent.

And now off to frozen Nebraska where I will most certainly stay "wrapped up like a child who has been in the rain too long" the entire time.

Just Like the Moon by Brett Dennen

Will you marry me?

Making decisions is one of my all-time least favorite activities (up there with hangovers, eating salad, and dealing with Verizon tech support). The last several weeks have been uncomfy, to say the least.

The logistics of scraping up my life, stuffing it into a moving truck, and dumping it out in another time zone are overwhelming, expensive, and all-consuming. Fortunately, there is Tequila.

Tequila and I have always gotten along. We became BFF right away and have stayed close for going on 10 years now. It isn't just alcohol...it is warm and soft, like a blankie or the perfect head-sized indentation in a lover's shoulder. Clearly, I've been intimate with Tequila. I consider it a friend with benefits.

Tequila is a fickle, cliquish friend, however. I daresay it can be downright bitchy at times and has bullied many of my friends into submission. I feel sorry for these people.

When faced with monumental decisions, stress, and uncertainty, Tequila is a rock upon which one can perch safe from and untouched by reality. Like many of my close friends, it has a dynamic personality that keeps our relationship healthy.

For instance, this unique concoction of Tequila and avocado rocked my world. We spent a steamy afternoon together and I fell a little bit more in love. Tequila is always reinventing itself...that's why I like it so much.

I only require salt when taking shots of Tequila. However, this salt foam atop a perfectly-mixed classic margarita was subtle, understated, and refined. Tequila always accessorized impeccably. Like a man in a conservative suit with clever cuff links, I couldn't help myself...I wanted it, BAD.
This papaya margarita from my company picnic was syrupy sweet, cold, and delicious...for a while. After a brainfreeze and eventual need for a toothbrush, I became annoyed with Tequila and needed some time apart to be with my other friends, Whiskey and Gin. Don't worry though, we made up the next day.Thank you, Tequila, for being there for me during this move. You make making decisions the tiniest little bit less painful.

Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off by Joe Nichols