Cross your fingers for me, kids....

So I sat with great anticipation for 2:00 p.m. to roll around today. It's the reason I got out of bed this morning. What happened at 2:00? The John Mayer trivia contest to win a meet and great at the Darien Lake show. You are judged on speed and accuracy and I admit that I was not very speedy. They gave like one note and you had to write the name of the song. Now, I am pretty good, but seriously...? I do know, though, that I got the Mayercraft Carrier questions correct because I WAS THERE, dammit! Yeee haw!

We will get a call on Monday if we won. There are five winners per show and you have to pick up when they call. Here's my issue. I have a dentist appointment on Monday, but you can bet your bippy that if the phone rings when his fingers are jammed in my yap I am going to make someone pick it up. I don't care if it is the hygienist. Someone is going to pick it up.

Can you imagine if I actually got to meet John? I would wet my pants. In any case, kids. Keep your fingers crossed for me.

So annoying.

So think of a day when all you could focus on was getting to a point in your day when you were able to do something that you really wanted to do.  Maybe it was going to a concert later.  Maybe it was meeting a friend for dinner.  Maybe it was going to buy a new pair of shoes or taking a long walk on the trail by by the lake.  Do you have a time in mind?  Can you think of something that you wanted to do more than anything?  Great.

Now, think of a time when you got to that point and when you finally started shopping for the shoes you couldn't get into it. There weren't any that you liked.  They were all too tight.  The walk on the trail was blazing hot and the gnats were flying up your nose.  Do you remember how annoying that is?  That was my evening last night.

Last week I missed yoga because I was spending time with my niece and nephew (and was loving it).  When I miss a week I really feel it the next week.  (Practicing yoga is incredibly quick in terms of seeing and feeling the benefits, by the way)  So, last night was yoga night.  I leave work and stop at Country Max on the way home.  I can't decide on fish food.  Then I can't decide on cat litter and then I can't decide on cat food.  Sure, you would think that you would just buy the same kind that you've been buying all along, right?  SOunds good in theory assuming that the store has the brand.  No such luck.  And now I am running late.  I get home, change into my yoga clothes and am trying to convince Belle that she needs to make a quick trip out to potty.  She looks at me, grabs her stuffed squirrel and takes off through the house.  I don't have time for this.  I get the Mellow Mutts and she goes into her crate.  Now I have to zoom to yoga class.  I make it in time, but my mat is wet.  Why is my mat wet?  I smell it and it smells normal, but it's still wet.  Here's hoping I don't downward dog and have my feet slip.

So, we start class in corpse pose.  The "ultimate" relaxation pose.  Other than mountain pose, this might be the easiest yoga pose of all.  You literally lay on your back, put your legs and arms flat on the floor and lay there.  That's all.  Except I'm not feeling it.  My back hurts.  I can't focus.  There is a guy out in the hallway watching us.  I can't get the thought that I should be at home packing out of my head.  I'm trying, but I'm just not getting there.  Now I'm just pissed, which is really just the antithesis of yoga practice.  At 6:00 I look at the clock.  I have half an hour to go.  6:15 I look again.  So disappointing.

ONce again, it comes down to being in the moment.  Yoga is so about being where you are.  Leaving the past behind where it is and not worrying about the future because you can't do anything about it right then anyway.  So when am I going to start embracing this?  I talked about it during my Kenny Chesney blog and here I am revisiting the issue once again.  Tonight I am going to do it.  I feel the tightness in my jaw and I need the calm that comes from practicing yoga.  I am going to go home, let Belle out and do some yoga in my living room.  And I am going to be in the moment and I am going to enjoy it.  Dammit. 

The outline in my head for today's blog says that I have three major things to discuss today. We'll see how that all works out.

Last night was the Leann Rimes/Kenny Chesney concert at CMAC in Canandaigua. If you've never been, the venue is beautiful. The sound is amazing. The architecture is appealing. The food is Dinosaur Bar B Que. No, I'm not kidding. (If you've never been to the Dino, you seriously need to get there.) I bought lawn seats and did not have the benefit of the cover, which proved to be an issue when it began to torrential downpour. What is it with rain and concerts this summer? Last week at John Mayer I got soaked, but was at least under cover. Anyway, I stayed for the show and it was pretty awesome.

I noticed at the John Mayer concert that I got really caught up in getting pictures and video and started to do something similar at the Chesney concert. At some point I realized that I just needed to be in the moment and enjoy the music, the rain that was soaking through my jeans, and all of the drunken idiots around me. So I tried. And for the most part I would say that I did pretty well. It stuns me how drunk people still get in public, and although I was never quite that bad I am glad that I am past that "stage." There were several girls who were wet, wearing short mini skirts, drunk, and rolling down the hill in the mud. One girl was so drunk she was laying in a ball in the mud yakking her guts out. How is that fun? And how about the middle aged guy who was taking advantage of a grab and touch on her wherever he could? Eventually, she did get up and continue to drink. Thank God. She could have become seriously dehydrated or something.

At the end of the show, Kenny played "She Thinks My Tractors Sexy," which is apparently a big time bra throwing song. Something like seven bras landed on the stage. The first three he picked up, showed to the audience and put over a microphone stand with a bunch of other bras from previous shows (I assume). The last four he just let lay on the stage, which I am sure disappointed the girls whose ta-ta's were now flapping around. Now I get that Kenny is in damn good shape and is looking as fine as ever (as long as he leaves his hat on), but seriously, ladies...what do you think throwing your bra on teh stage is going to get you?

Here was my thought on the drive home: "What happens to all of those bras her gets on stage?" Wouldn't it be great if he had them cleaned and donated them to a domestic violence shelter or something? Maybe I need to suggest this to him. What's the point of carrying around random bras when they could be put to use by women who need them? Bras aren't cheap, Kenny. Pay it forward!

My last point...I spent a lot of time trying to figure out if Kenny had shaved and/or waxed his armpits. He was wearing a sleeveless shirt and would throw his hands in the air and all that jazz and since I couldn't actually see him I had to watch him on the big screens, which gave me a clearer view of the armpits. I've always been a little skeeved out by men's armpit hair, so I did notice that Kenny's wasn't all bushy and gnarly. But, then I started thinking about the new manscaping revolution that seems to be happening. I was relieved to see that Kenny had not actually removed all pit hair, but apparently just trimmed up and called it a day, which made me wonder if he manscpaes everywhere? When did it become so popular for men to shave *ahem* down there? I'm just wondering. Can someone else make a judgment as to whether or not the guy has pit hair?


Anyway, that's the daily report. Now I'm gonna sit right here and have another beer in Mexico.

Rant

Has anyone else in the world besides me read the book "Rant"? The author is Chuck Palahniuk, who also happens to be the writer of "Fight Club." Granted, Fight Club was pretty f'ed up, but I wasn't expecting Rant to be quite so odd. Admittedly, I chose the book based on the artwork on the cover, which is how I often choose what to read.

Rant is the oral history of Buster "Rant" Casey as told by those closest to him, since Rant is no longer actually alive. Rant is an odd character, to say the least and I can't seem to shake the story from my mind. Every time someone mentions something about rabies, snakes, spiders, or erections (yes, I said "Erections") I think of Rant. He spends his days plastering boogers to the wall and sticking his arms into unknown holes in the ground waiting for rabbits, snakes, spiders, and whatever else lives in the ground to bite him. He makes the odd association of coming to age with being bitten by a spider, so every time he is with his girlfriend he has to wait to be bitten by a spider before he can perform. I personally think Bob Dole had the right idea by just taking a pill, but then again, I am not a man who gets off on spiders, snakes, and other varmints.

Anyway, Rant eventually contracts rabies and begins a super epidemic where people brag and link themselves to him as the source of their infection. They become almost vampire-like and attempt to bite each other. Rant dies by going down in a flame of glory in a car crash, seeking immortality in order to go back and influence history so that he can continue in his quest to make himself a superspecies of sorts. I know. It's bizarre. Normally, I would never haver read this kind of book since I am no fan of sci-fi, but once you get so far into a book you have to finish it. That will teach me to pick solely based on covers for a while. I am glad it's over, but I can't get it out of my head....even with the new book I am reading.

A few nights ago I started "The Art of Racing in the Rain," narrated by Enzo the dog. Don't start thinking that I am a complete weirdo. It's actually an interesting perspective since Enzo watches the wife become ill, but is unable to let them know that she is becoming more ill. I'm not ready to write about this book just quite yet, but I can say that last night Enzo discribed a scene where the wife had left him in the house for three days with no food and water. He does what any dog would do who is left alone for that long and shreds the baby's stuffed animals. When his owner, Denny realizes that he has trashed the baby's room he lands a blow to the side of Enzo's head. That really kind of shook me and I've been thinking a little differently in terms of how I am speaking to Belle. I don't care if it is a work of fiction. Dogs have feelings, too, and I love Belle so why should I yell at her at the top of my lungs for grabbing the sandwich off the counter and bolting? Isn't she working on instinct. I'll give it to you that it's not right and it drives me incredibly crazy, but she doesn't deserve to have me freak out on her.

Okay. I think that's the end of my rant (so to speak) for today. I should be heading to the Kenny Chesney concert tonight in Canandaigua, but it's been raining all day, so I need to make a decision as to whether or not I am going. I guess I might as well. What else do I have to do? Pack you say?

Long time, no see!

Wow. It's really been since February that I posted a blog? That's crazy...

I am determined to resurrect the blog. There was a lot going on and I am not sure why I wasn't keeping up, but I am back at it! 2006 is gone, so I may need to change the title of the blog...

Anyway, a quick update:
1. I am now addicted to Vitamin Water. Yum.
2. Belle is now 13 months old. I can't believe it!
3. Martine has gone back to Norway. I still miss her and suspect that I always will.
4. In my true summer routine, I will once again be moving. This time to Geneva NY.

That might be it for now....look for new posts in the future!