Click ...

The kid moved home lock, stock and barrel last night.

I don’t know whether to be sad or happy that he’s had to press the reset button .....


..... but I believe he’s made the right choice


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Self Check ...

Time is flying … most likely due to the fact that I’m teaching three nights a week I guess.

I alternately love and hate teaching. It’s rewarding wrapped in frustrating. I find it most worthwhile when I see a struggling kid’s lightbulb finally go on. You know that moment when you believe you can actually see the wheels turning in a kid’s head followed by an audible “click” when understanding finally dawns … and their face lights up with a smile. Those are the rare moments that make teaching really worthwhile. The money is nice, but it’s far, far, far from the best reason to do it.

Woodcreek High School invited me back this season to design and teach their parade routine. We had our third of four scheduled rehearsals last night and I walked away thinking that, even though it’s not part of the agreement, I’ll probably be going back for a fifth one. I won’t leave them hanging in the breeze. I will impart all of the knowledge it’s possible for me to impart about this parade routine before I ride into the sunset. The four (that’s right, just four) kids in this year’s guard are all working really hard and, with an entire month still in front of them before their first review, all five of us have high hopes. Right now I’m still watching them by peeking through my fingers but I expect to be really proud of them in another 30 days.

I’m also teaching Elk Grove High School a parade routine. The story is pretty much the same there but with three times as many kids. That just proves that bigger isn’t always better! It’s the same struggles in a different venue. I’m hooked on these kids too and am committed to dragging them, kicking and screaming if I have to, to the next level. The challenge is getting them to visualize what that next level is like so that they go willingly. It’s harder than it sounds.

Both bands have this weekend off so I’m using my Saturday to make the long-ass drive to Merced where I was invited to work with Golden Valley. I feel truly privileged to have been invited. Golden Valley is one of NCBA’s finest and has, in my opinion, the best equipment handlers in the NCBA circuit. (Yeah maybe it’s hokey so what) I’m honored that they value my input. Ok … intellectually I grasp that the invitation speaks to my growing rep but, cuz I KNOW me, it’s hard to make myself actually believe that. Make sense? Once again this season I find I have to keep pinching myself to make sure it’s all real.

I’m deeply embroiled in working on the Elkies field show. I’m overflowing with ideas but my creative juice is a bit damned by the kid’s abilities. It’s like trying to create a masterpiece using only three colors. No worries though. This year will be about building the kid’s skills and making Elk Grove a band/guard that kids want to join. Next year … damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead!

The rainy, dreary day is making me a bit melancholy and introspective. Funny, I usually love cold and blustery days. Hmmmm. I think a bubble bath with a glass of wine and a book is definitely called for.

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Happy Birthday Week ...

Last week was my birthday. You heard me right. Last week. All of it. It seems appropriate to me to take a whole week to celebrate 50 years of the winding road that’s been my life so far.

Last weekend was the highlight of my birthday week. On Saturday I had planned to go out with Stubert and a couple of friends to throw back a few margaritas and laugh out loud a lot. I’d had band camp all day and ended up leaving later than I wanted to so I called Stu just to let him know I was finally on my way. He told me his truck had broken down and his Dad was working on it.

Pause.

Visions of cancelled fun bounced around my brain until he finally said “can you come pick me up”. As if he had to ask! “Of course” I say and head up the freeway bound for Roseville.

I arrived at Stu’s in record time but 40 minutes later than planned. I knock on the door and his sister Terri answers. She tells me Stu is in the backyard. My first thought is why isn’t he ready? But no worries because a second look at Terri assures me that she’s clearly dressed for fun so I head out to the backyard to gather up Stu and stuff he and Terri into the car but am instead totally amazed to see one, two, no three, no FIVE, count ‘em five, friends all standing there yelling SURPRISE at me! All I could say was “Oh my God”, “Oh my God”. I was, for once, at a loss for words.

I was surprised. Even more I was stunned. Stunned by what truly fabulous friends I have. A friend who will turn himself inside out to plan and pull off a super surprise party for me. Friends who will drive two or more hours to spend time to celebrate my birthday with me. Friends whose presence is more than enough presents but they bring presents anyway.

I am so very lucky to have all of you in my life.

Thanks for the best 50th birthday I could have ever thought to ask for.

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Thought for the day ...

There will invariably
be people who
don't accept you
And in that case,
you must be your own
badass self,
without apology

Love is like ...

... a stunning little pair of clip-on rhinestone earrings my mother used to keep in her jewelry box when I was a child. When I’d open the box, there they would be nestled snuggly in the corner sparkling and winking up at me from their burgundy velvet nest … the exact thing I needed … so attractive and so irresistibly charming that I simply had to put them on. Once on, they had the power to transform me into a fairy princess. Suddenly I was prettier, smarter and more talented and the world was mine to conquer as I’d pirouette around my parent’s bedroom like a prima ballerina. Within minutes I’d become aware of pain in my earlobes as the clip-on part of the earrings would begin to bite into the tender flesh there. Pain so soft at first that it was easily ignored as I happily spun around the bedroom ... but soon increasing in intensity at an alarming rate and finally becoming so unbearable that I’d abandon my fantasy, rip the beautiful earrings from my ears and cast them aside! Afterwards I’d lovingly pick them up and place them back in their velvety nest … until the next time that I opened that box … the next time those earrings would wink up at me and sparkle … the exact thing I needed … so attractive and so irresistibly charming ... and, even though I’d know it would eventually be painful, soon enough I’d be pirouetting around my parent's bedroom deep in fantasy once again.


Love is just as painful as those earrings ... and every bit as impossible to resist.

.

Stealth Mode :off:

In case anyone in my family is looking for me ... here I am

Jonette Roy
Jonette Montemayor

No cell anymore. Land line is 602.275.3237

Happy Googling!


.

Happy 33rd ...

33 years ago, while I was on a bus somewhere between Itaca, New York and Santa Clara, CA, my friend Stubert entered the world ....... and the world hasn't been the same since!

Happy 33rd Birthday Stu! May your wallet always be fat, your lawn always be green and your birthdays always be happy!

Love you!

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Thought for the day ...

Why is lemonjuice made from artificial lemon flavoring and dishwashing liquid made from real lemons?

Hairpins do more than hold your hair back ...

I’ve always heard life choices are akin to “Ys” in the road of life. The generally accepted principle is that once you’ve chosen your path you can’t simply back up and choose the other path. I accept that, short of time travel, you can’t move backwards in time and have subsequently lived my life shackled to the idea that life moves ever forward … much like a parade with penalties for stopping … and have chosen instead to just take my lumps and live by the philosophy that even if you put the spoiled milk back in the fridge it will still come out spoiled. Last night while mulling over the Ys in my road of life, I had a crystal clear moment of clarity.
The road of life isn’t necessarily straight!
While some people’s lives may be an interstate moving swiftly along, mine is a winding mountain road full of treacherous twists, changes in elevation and hairpin turns … much like a luge run in fact. After some reflection, I now see this as an advantage for a deadly hairpin turn, while it can be scary, can take me really close to territory I’ve already traveled … where the terrain and the view are familiar to me … where I can recognize the potholes in the road and avoid them this pass.

I’m strapping on my seatbelt, hunkering down behind the wheel and welcoming those hairpin turns as opportunities from now on.

Everybody gets high, everybody gets low,
these are the days when anything goes
Everyday is a winding road
I get a little bit closer
Everyday is a faded sign
I get a little bit closer
To feeling fine

<$1 to Sheryl Crow>

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Vegetables, schmegtables ... hand me the ice cream scoop!

In true Jojo style (no holds barred, throw all caution to the wind, throw all common sense out the window, commit 100% before you have the details, etc) I have embarked on a low-cal diet. It's been a week and a half and it's been pretty good so far and I've learned a lot including the fact that dieting is as full of paradoxes as the rest of life. A hard boiled egg, much ballyhooed to be the "perfect" food is far from "perfect" at 211 calores. Shoot, for 211 calories my "perfect" food is an entire cup of Blue Bunny Low Fat Vanilla ice cream at 160 calores. An oreo has half the calories of an apple (with this knowledge firmly implanted in my brain I resent eating fruit but do it anyway for the vitamins and the antioxidants ... sigh). Big Macs and Super Stars with cheese should just be outlawed and, in fact, all fast food should bear a skull and cross bones warning label and have the same sales restrictions as tobacco. NO ID? No french fries for you!

Mostly what I've learned is that eating low-cal is much easier than it was 15 years ago when I tried it last. Technology now provides so much variety it's crackers! Literally. You can now buy little 100 calorie sacks of crackers and cookies and snack cakes. It's a holiday everytime I go to the grocery store. There's been no food that I've had to give up. Notice I said food -- alcohol is yet to be researched. I wish I'd known about all this when I was marching cuz the combination of a low-cal diet and drum corps would have turned me into a sliver of my former self. Nonetheless, I'm giving it a shot now and I'm not finding it all that difficult to eat 1200 or fewer calories a day. Sure weight loss will be slow but the goal here is really a healthier heart and lower blood pressure and those are already peeking over my horizon. My resting heart rate dropped from 106 to 91 in the first week. I haven't graduated to the point of worrying about carbs, proteins, etc but I'll get there. In the meantime, while I may never be svelt, I now know I can eat healthy and feel good and for some inexplicable reason this makes me feel really, really, good.

I'm going at this with the same tenacity I go after everything else with -- so I I've got my teeth in it and I plan to shake it til it dies.

.

It’s all good …

After having orthopedic surgery earlier this summer to repair a couple of broken bones in his hand, Kevin is finally getting his cast off.

Chris has returned to school at the San Francisco Academy of Art College .

Band camp starts next week and I’m full of anticipation and excitement over the creative process!! My only worry is that 9 minutes won’t be a long enough show for me to squeeze in everything I want..

Work has slowed down to a manageable pace, home is plugging right along, every one in my world is healthy and happy, so I guess you could say I’ve found my rut again for my glass is more than half full these days … and it’s about time!

.

We are so great .......... ?

The 2007 Renegades are crumbling to the point where they are dangerously close to no longer being the Renegades I fell in love with (who still own a piece of my heart). This is because they’re not pulling together off the field. Instead, in a decidedly non-Renegade fashion, they’re sniping at each other in public forums. The negativity is palpable and obvious to everyone in the drum corps community … and damned embarrassing! Members and leaders have forgotten that they’re simply individuals that comprise a greater whole. They've forgotten that the Renegades won’t succeed or fail due to the actions of individuals … no matter who those individuals are are or what they’ve contributed … or, in some cases, think they contributed. To phrase it as a cheesy cliché there’s no “I” in “TEAM”. To paraphrase a well known saying “it takes a village to raise a drum corps”. “We are so great” means nothing if individuals delude themselves into believing they are the impetus for positive results or the catalyst for positive change. Hear me when I ssy. No one individual is that important. The Renegades are bigger than any one person. The Renegades will go on without you and if you don’t believe that, then it’s your time to move on.

In my experience, the Renegades have proved the marketing hype on the field 100% of the time. That, my friends, is why “we are so great”. A legacy has been established and traditions begun that the 2007 Renegades now have the responsibility of shouldering and carrying on. So here’s hoping that you get your collective head out of your ass and remember that one of the Renegade’s greatest traditions is class.

“7” belongs to us ALL ... so go represent!

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It's a bitter pill ...

... that I’m dreading swallowing but I know I have to and I know there’s a blessing to be found in it … I just have to look.

Looking backwards sometimes helps me with these things.

In the summer of 1963, right before my birthday, my Dad had a near- fatal accidentat work. He was guiding a truck as it backed up into a trailer hitch and in some bizarre turn of events, the details of which were never explained to me in a way I could fully comprehend them, his head got caught between the truck and I don’t know what and his skull was fractured. According to my Mom the doctor said his head was “squished like a cantaloupe in a vice” (great bedside manner huh?). Not realizing the extent of his injuries, my Dad walked away, got in his car and drove home so he could “lie down”. My Mom always relayed the next part of the story as “he walked in the front door with blood trickling out of his ears and pupils the size of pinpoints”. I don’t remember that event but I do remember wondering what a pinpoint was. It’s comical what a kid’s mind will stick on. I remember writing my Dad a plethora of get well letters over the course of his long hospital stay and ruthlessly devouring my Grandmother’s entire box of pretty pink stationary in the process. I remember trying to sit still and be good for seemingly endless hours in the hospital lobby while my Mom visited my Dad and I remember silently and vehemently hating all the nurses because THEY wouldn’t allow anyone under 14 into ICU … even ME ... how could they not see I was special? I vividly recall the day my Dad was finally discharged. I was wearing a navy blue sleeveless dress with a big, stiff sailor’s collar and I proudly rode on my Dad’s lap in his wheelchair all the way to the car. I know I was mentally wagging my tongue at all those mean old nurses. Some things never change … although the wagging tongue has been forever replaced with my middle digit.

As a result of that injury my Dad was put into a rehabilitation program that gave him an opportunity to go to college. He did four years in two and his graduation put our little family on a new and better road and changed the outcome of all our lives.

Blessing disguised as a bitter pill.

Once in a while there’s gonna’ be a bitter pill you've gotta' step up to and just swallow … and not to let it choke you to death!

Finding out I can't march DCA will not choke me to death ...

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Walking FAILS as a sport ...

and it's NOT fun, it's just a mode of tranportation ... man's orginal transportation at that.

Stu asked me if I wanted to go walking with him last night.

My reply = Hell no, I’d rather chew tinfoil.

I hate walking. It's not fun, it's work. Like walking 1.5 miles each way to a bus stop for 4 months and dreaming of driving every second of it. Walking is a big negative experience to me. You walk when you miss the school bus, you walk when your car breaks down, you walk when your friend decides to stay at the party later than your curfew, etc. I've always hated walking. Walking is too much like a punishment. My hatred of walking is why I spend so much time driving in circles in retail parking lots.

Yet I’m willing to spend my summer weekends running around aimlessly on a football field and getting nowhere.

Walking is a by product of golf just like it is in drum corps. I like to golf almost as much as I like to march. Golf = Hit the ball as far away from you as you can then walk up to it and hit it again as far away from you as you can. Lather, rinse, repeat for about 350 yards where the whole endeavor finally disintegrates into a 20 minute game of marbles using a really big marble and dropping it into a hole.

There are times I can’t explain myself. This is just one more of those.

Last night the California Cool Kids got together to "Chop" ... to review and solidify what we think we know in preparation for the next DVD's imminent arrival from the "Wonderful World". I remembered far more than I thought I did and am now not nearly as worried about having a great outcome at DCA as I once was. Now I'm looking forward to the cheering crowd and I'm finding that all my concerns evolve around whether or not we make finals. Then again, that happens around this time every year so no worries!

Highlights …

I’ve signed on to teach at Elk Grove High School this year. Band camp starts the week of August 13 and I’m excited because I haven’t worked on a field show in about 30 years!!! This should be fun!

I’ve been tapped by a friend to write the parade routine for Ygnacio Valley High. This is a band I’ve always liked on the street so I feel a real responsibility to get it right for them and I’m looking forward to meeting them.

I’ll be working a couple of rehearsals with Del Oro High School on their weapons basics. I guess they got tired of hearing me whine into my tape recorder about their technique and are giving me the opportunity to fix it. Hooray!

So I have a couple of remaining weeks of relative couch potatodom and then I’ll start really burning my candle at both ends again and I’m looking forward to the challenge.

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Peace Descends ...

I’ve just finished paying my bills online and still have a little smidge of money in my pocket. I’m elated and as I sit at my desk sipping a latte, munching a muffin and taking stock of my life, I find that my glass is half full. There’s something positively rejuvenating in knowing that I have two complete days stretching out before me in which I can do anything at all or nothing at all … and it’s Friday the 13th so I shouldn’t be at all surprised that today is a very good day.

Tomorrow is Bastille Day and my Dad’s birthday. Growing up we always celebrated those two events in tandem and I’m thinking that I might journey to Napa tomorrow to the Domain Chandon where I’ll spread a blanket on the lawn, nibble on some bread and cheese, and do a bit of celebrating and reflecting with a bottle of Brut.

Happy Bastille Day!!

Blue Funk Emergence ...

Sounds like a rock band doesn't it?

I’m bored today but happily emerging from my blue funk that I’ve been in for the past few weeks. Ya’ gotta’ love those hormonal swings don’t ya’? At least I hope that’s what it is because I don’t think I’m capable of handling any real mental illness … but then isn’t that the whole point of a breakdown is not handling a mental illness? Anyway, it seems like menopause is lurking on my horizon and I don’t know whether to ward it off or welcome it with open arms. I miss my mom. She’d know what to do.

In the midst of my funk I’ve been training a new field office manager to start in August at my company’s St. Helena site. It’s been a very long month. Let me just sum it up by saying that training her is equivalent to having a vicious, salivating, Chihuahua chewing on the cuff of my pants everyday … except this Chihuahua has a voice less appealing than a dentist’s drill running at high speed. The upside is that I’ve earned quite a few accolades here at work and now enjoy a reputation as a saint with the patience of Job … the total antithesis of my usual reputation … and it’s because I’m the only one here not yet totally climbing the walls as a result of her presence but that’s only because I pray everyday that God won’t let me kill her. So far he’s interceded quite nicely but I hope August gets here soon.

Speaking of dogs … I think my dog Teddy may be going senile. Seriously. He’s about 10 and that translates to 70 in dog years. Prime time for Alzheimer’s in humans, right? I don’t know if it exists in the canine world, and maybe Teddy will be the first dog ever to get it, but he keeps straining at the leash and barking at strangers and he has NEVER barked at ANYONE, EVER. It started about a week ago and it’s the weirdest thing he’s ever done … well, outside of eating out of the cat’s litter box (mmm mmm good, Almond Roca for dogs, crunchy on the outside and chewy on the inside!). If he keeps this up I don’t know what I’ll do. It would be awful to put Grandpa down just because he has Alzheimer’s but it might be exactly what happens to Teddy in my wacky and wonderful world.

No big weekend plans. No big plans in general. Just a lot of puttering and fumbling around. I’m having a hard time finding my groove in this empty nest stage of my life and don’t feel like doing anything about it right now … or doing anything at all right now … and so, for right now, the plan is to have no plan and so I’ve given myself permission to do absolutely nothing at all guilt free. I think my groove will best be found by just hanging around the house ... for now.

Last night on TV there was yet another male comic making jokes about women and yeast infections. I’m tired to death of this as fodder for jokes. Women! Every chance you get, remind your men that those “yeast infections” that they bemoan and make so much fun of are identical to what they so happily carry around on their feet like a badge of courage and call “athlete’s foot”. Get over it already! Hmmm, maybe we should start calling it “athlete’s hoohoo”. Quick, who do we know at Webster’s?

The “kids” and their “girls” are coming over for dinner on Friday and I’m looking forward to them and all their fuss. I have the whole weekend to recover, right?

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What a Wonderful World - Part II

Wednesday we touched down in Minneapolis about 6 a.m. and headed to Matt and Jen’s house where Stu and I crashed like zombies until 2:00 pm! Later that evening the four of us went to fellow-Chopper Jess’ house where we ate spaghetti and pretended to work on parade hats for awhile before coming home to crash once again. Wednesday was really all about sleep and getting on the Minnesota clock.

Thursday was about rehearsal. Stubert and I did a bit of rehearsing on our own with brooms and dust mops before the real thing that night with the full corps. By the end of Thursday night I was thinking I’d bitten off far more than I could chew.

Friday was a free day and Matt (best host in the wonderful world) took us to the Mall of America where we met up with some fellow choppers and did the roller coasters and the log ride. Jen caught up with us later in the day, we did the roller coaster three more times (and I lost my voice from screaming … what a break for everyone else right!) did a bit of necessary shopping for costume bits and then had dinner at “Bubba Gump’s”. It was a very good day.

Saturday = SHOW DAY! It began with a 5-hour rehearsal block. Funny thing about those rehearsals, they’re a LOT like Renegade rehearsals. It’s hot, you sweat, you run, you cry about water breaks, you learn yo’ shyte … and then you go put your costume on and do it for the crowd. The crowd was enormous! And so appreciative of the folks on the field. I will say unabashedly I’ve NEVER received a reception like that from a California crowd.

After our performance we went back and cruised the souvie booths, said HI to a few Cali friends and then watched Madison and Santa Clara’s performances. Ok … it’s not a popular opinion but it’s mine. I like Madison’s show. Sure, it’s competitively vulnerable in spots but I like the way the show starts the moment you see them, their guard is a lot of fun to watch and there’s some drill moments near the end that will be really exciting once they’re clean. I loved, loved, loved Santa Clara’s show and, if I’d had my voice I’d have sure let it be known. When the hornline went down on both knees my heart started to pound and then there it was! Four counts of the bottle dance! Woot! And it was thrilling to see them outside of California and in the competitive thick of drum corps. It brought back some good memories. 1st or 7th or whatever at DCI, this is a stellar year for SCV and I’m happy to see it happen.

Saturday night we went to the legendary “Patrick’s” – the self-proclaimed only drum corps bar in the world. The walls at “Patrick’s” are lined with pictures of VFW-era Midwest corps and the menu boasts pizzas named after “The Cavaliers”, “Chops” and the “Governaires” … and the margaritas are positively slamming. Ok, so I got a little snockered. It was a good time and a great chance to get to know some of the Choppers a little better. They are some very cool people and I really appreciate how they’ve welcomed us so completely into their family.

Sunday = SHOW DAY! It was a repeat of Saturday except that as soon as we got off the field we had to head for the airport. So the corps circled up and sang the corps song and bid us farewell and safe journey. I’ll admit, they got to me and I’m looking forward to our next trip in SIX WEEKS. That seems such a long way away.

Highlights …

The Mall of America (aka MOA) is a really neat place. There’s one of everything and two of some things. It’s 4-stories tall and is equivalent to about three good-sized California malls and has what equates to a small Six Flags amusement park inside of it. It’s definitely an all day event.

We performed in front of the biggest crowds I’ve ever seen at a drum corps show outside of prelims and finals. The size of the audience at both shows was overwhelming but was still nothing compared to their unbridled enthusiasm. A totally different vibe than what I’ve ever felt in an early season California show. What a great reception they gave us.

While we were hanging out in the parking lot after rehearsal on Thursday night, I realized that my Vanguard star had fallen off my jacket somewhere out on the field. It was nearly 10:00 at night and the field was now black. Despite the odds, Stu and a couple of Choppers walked the field with me to look for it but it was just too dark to find it. A quiet, yet ultimately effective, APB was put out on the star and on Saturday morning it was handed back to me. Some of the members had gone back to the field on Friday morning to find it. Eureka! And I still find it hard to believe that they went to so much trouble to make sure I got it back. It’s just another example of how generous and welcoming these folks are to the cool California kids.

Minnesota’s harsh winters make for an interesting water slide ride somewhere near the airport. The entirely enclosed waterway tubes travel outside a hotel but the entrances and exits are safely tucked indoors. It’s a constant source of interest for Stu and I and we stare entranced everytime we drive by it. I’m thinking we’ll have to break down and ride it one day.

I now believe that being in a senior corps in California is like existing in a plastic bubble. Sadly when you’re in that bubble all you really have to keep you going is what you read on DCP and your own hype. The trouble with DCP is that it’s nothing but conjecture because until everyone hits the same field on the same day with the same judges it all means nothing … and it’s never been much of an indicator of the true outcome of events (or I would have a DCA medal around my neck by now). The trouble with hype … well its hype. I’m excited to be outside the bubble for now and I can’t help but feel lucky to have this unique opportunity to see things from the outside looking in.

I’ve now been to the Valley of the Jolly Green Giant! I didn’t know it was real but it is. It’s located in the town of Blue Earth near Le Seuer (and I think he has some peas named after that town). It was little kid thrilling to see the big Jolly Green Giant sign.

I’ve discovered why so many people from other corps are quick to make cutting comments about Minnesota Brass members … point blank, they are an arrogant bunch. I’ve been arrogant in the past, as has my bunch, but I was an ignorant teenager at the time and at least had something to be arrogant about. These guys … mmmm, not so much. Yeah, I said it … you know what they say about opinions … this one is mine.

I vandalized something for the first time ever … No worries, it’ll wipe right off. Related to the paragraph above? Positively! Regretful? Absolutely! I regret that I had to leave for the airport and didn’t get to see him find it.

All in all it was a good trip. And while I find myself all the time saying “I can’t believe I’m doing this”, I’m truly glad that I am. Thanks Stubert!

Thought for the day ...

Evidence that God really does have a warped sense of humor ... the platypus

Oh, I'm leaving on a jet plane ...

... <$1 to composer John Denver>

If you’re in the Midwest in the wee hours of Wednesday and you feel a disturbance in the force, don’t worry … it’s just Stu and I flying overhead about to drop into Minnesota for another weekend of drum corps insanity. We’re leaving on the red eye Wednesday morning and will arrive in the land of 10,000 lakes around 6:00 am or so. We have all of Wednesday and Thursday to do whatever we want so who knows what random chaos will ensue. Wednesday’s tentative, yet wacky, plan is to find and conquer the Mall of America … and yeah, that excites the 15 year old slice of me … I’m jazzed. We have rehearsal on Thursday night where I expect we’ll learn new work and/or drill and there may be a guard rehearsal on Friday especially for Stu and me to get caught up a bit ... maybe caught up enough to actually perform in a show this weekend. Stu and I worked together last Friday night and, thanks to the DVD Matt Kilinowski (superb host and videographer extraordinaire) sent us, I’ve been making gouges in my living room ceiling ever since (guard geeks you know what I mean). A big shout out and a hug to Matt and to David (Tiger Beat cover boy who performed the work on the CD for us). Thanks guys. You totally rock! So now I’m feeling ready to absorb some new stuff and will be packing a lot of Advil so I can make it happen.

Speaking of packing, I’m NOT listening to anyone who has lived in MN, driven through MN or had a third cousin twice removed who says the weather is “whatever” in MN at this time of year … I’m packing for HOT rehearsals and cold nights. Date u beddy much!

Highlights …
I still need shoes
I still need gloves
I came up with a costume that I didn’t have to sew it … whee!
I’ll be leaving on this little “tour” with about $20 in my pocket (and I have to laugh about how some things about me will just never change) … eh, maybe that’s a good thing … and hey, at least I’m consistent!!!

In the meantime, nothing flies without fuel … so see you drinking beer at the airport!


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The ReneReview ...

As submitted to DCW ...


San Francisco Renegades Drum and Bugle Corps -- “Dusk to Dawn”
There was a palpable energy surge in the stands as the San Francisco Renegades took the field. The crowd was clearly anxious to see what the Renegades would do this year to push the envelope once more and entertain the audience. The Renegades didn’t disappoint. The show opened with a central levitating coffin from which their vampire drum major, Mistress Kelli, emerged setting the tone for the show. Using a mix of some now familiar Renegade tunes smartly blended with a taste of something new, the Renegades gave their interpretation of what evil lurks between dusk and dawn. The choice of “My Immortal” as their ballad proved a stroke of genius. Its closing solo, played to the backfield by Rich Duarte, was the most touching and poignant moment of their show. Moments of brilliance were evident in the colorguard and it looks to be the most talented colorguard the Renegades have fielded in their existence. Bravo! The San Francisco Renegades seemed to have had their strongest early-season performance in their history and this can only bode well for them as they head into DCA. The marketing juggernaut known as the San Francisco Renegades is clearly poised to once again show us all that “Loud is Good” and “Drum Corps is Evil”.


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Closure ... It's a Good Thing ...

So my senior corps life (aka my second childhood) came full circle on Sunday night ....

I was at work one day in June of 2001 just minding my own business when the company president walked into my office and handed me an envelope containing 6 VIP passes he had to the “Moonlight Classic” that night. He knew a little bit about my drum corps geekiness because he was my boss in 1997 when I marched in the SCV alumni corps. As a Stockton business leader, he’d gotten roped into buying a spot in the Moonlight Classic program and, as a result, had these tickets he didn’t know what to do with and thought of me (and I’ve been to a lot of Raiders football games on that same dime by the way so I’m not complaining). Anyway, I took the tickets and we went and that’s where I discovered the existence of the San Francisco Renegades. I clearly remember standing up in my bleacher seat and screaming down at my husband Fred, over the really LOUD Renegades, that I didn’t care how far I had to drive, I was gonna’ do THIS. For the record, I was hooked by Mambo. Anaheim played it in the 70’s and I’m a HUGE Anaheim fan. So, there I was at my first Moonlight Classic since 1976 and I’ve been there every year since making this past Sunday my 7th Moonlight Classic in a row.

This year I went so I could write a contest review for Drum Corps World. Imagine that. I’m writing a contest review for Drum Corps World … well and who knows … it may end up in the editor’s trash can … but I wrote it and it was a lot harder to do than I’d thought it would be.

While I was at the show I saw friends made when I marched SCV in the 70s, friends made when I marched the SCV alumni corps in the 90s, kids I taught in high school band now taking their own shot at drum corps and a gang of Renegades that I know well and like … well, and some that I tolerate ... and I couldn’t help but notice how being a Renegade has permanently expanded my drum corps experience … from performing, to teaching, to judging to now taking a stab at writing a contest review. These are all things that wouldn’t have happened had I never been a Renegade.

Highlights …
I was surprised by the number of Renegades I’d marched with and considered good friends who walked by me and pretended they didn’t know me when they saw me … hmmm … I guess we weren’t really friends after all.

I was surprised by the number of Renegades I’d marched with and barely knew who went out of their way to say “hi” or give me a hug … hmmm … funny how situations like this tell you who your friends really are.

I was surprised that the Renegades did not tug at my heartstrings when they performed and surprised that I didn’t go all wet and nostalgic and miss being on the field with them … hmmm … surprise, surprise … I thought this would be really hard. I guess it means I left when I was ready to.

I was surprised that the Vanguard did tug on my heartstrings and that I got a little verklempt when the announcer said “from Santa Clara California, the Santa Clara Vanguard”. I guess it means I left before I was ready to (but I apparently learned my lesson and made sure the next time).

Santa Clara beat Blue Devils!!!!

I’m glad I was there on the SCV/BD Alumni Corps “SCV” night. It’s funny how marching in the alumni corps in 1997 and 2002 has made all of those tunes so meaningful for me … and no big surprise … “Send in the Clowns” made me go all wet and nostalgic … good grief!

So my senior corps experience … well, at least in California … has come to and end with some really decent closure. I feel done. I feel good …… na na na na na na na <$1 to Joe>

Now it’s onto Minnesota and another drum corps chapter that is sure to stretch my drum corps horizons even further.

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Rock Star Moment ...

Look who made the cover of "Drum Corps World"

;)

lots of emails later ... here's a clearer picture

'Arr Matey ... a new pirate

About two weeks ago I got a new kitten. He’s a boy and is about 11 weeks old now. He’s sinewy, scraggly, orange …. and extraordinarily fast. I got him from Sara (Christo’s girlfriend) and I think he’ll be a good addition to our family o’ pirates.

Chris had been calling the kitten “Smalls” (as in “you’re killin’ me Smalls” from the movies) for several days before he finally brought him home. I had wanted to name him “Hollywood”, a name I thought would go with “Motown” (my other kitty’s name) but Chris had his heart set on “Smalls” so we compromised and decided to call him “Hollywood Smalls”. Sounds like a mobster or a porn star huh? Somewhere in the second week I developed a tendency to call him “Mort” and I have absolutely no clue why. Maybe Mort is his real name and his nickname is Hollywood Smalls. I dunno’.

For the first week Motown ignored Smalls completely. Now, two weeks later, Mo and Smalls have an agreed upon indoor race track on which they chase each other between the hours of 3am and 4am daily (to my great dismay and often peril). I’ve had to start closing my bedroom door at night to avoid becoming road kill. It’s simply defies science that a grand total of 3 pounds of cat can make so much noise.

Teddy the dog is adjusting but he still does his best to simply blend into the carpeting when either cat enters the room. The collage of puncture wounds and scratches on my legs make me wish I was beige too and could just blend into the carpet with him.

Oh … and we’ve recently started calling the kitties Motown and Smalltown …

Yo ho ho and a bottle o’ rum

L'adieu à la Grenouille

Soupir.

La grenouille a été vendue à un homme nommé Franc. Il a promis de prendre le bon soin de lui.

J'ai perdu un bon ami.

Adieu mon ami.


:(

What a Wonderful World - Part I

I've always wanted to be an import ... and now I've actually done it. Another drum corps dream realized.

I needed Monday to sleep walk and recover from the weekend … and now I’m ready for a brief synopsis.

We boarded the plane just before midnight and I was excited to see the flight was only about 30% full with tons of open seats. As soon as the seat belt sign went off, I jumped up and claimed an entire row of 3 all for myself. Knowing Saturday would be a jam-packed physical and emotional day, I made a point of going right to sleep …….. for all of 25 minutes ……. at which point I woke up with the internal temperature of an iceberg. In fact, I think I woke up just in the nick of time to save my nose from breaking off completely like an icicle off a barn roof. After that I really couldn’t sleep at all and my main pastime became avoiding hypothermia and cursing myself for checking the bag that contained my jacket. We arrived in Minnesota about 6:00 am (thank God for warm airports) where we were greeted by Matt Kilinowski. We made a quick stop at his place to change into rehearsal clothes and pick up his darling wife Jen (who reminds me a lot of my son Kevin’s girlfriend btw), and then, fueled by Mickey D’s and a cat-nap in the car we hit the field. For any ‘gades who read this … if you think you feel like a rock star going to DCA, try showing up at someone else’s rehearsal for maximum rock star hype. Wow!

The first day was a 10-10 and it was hot. (I hate all of you people who told me Minnesota would still be cold at this time of year.) There was a lot to cover and it was really tough with no sleep so I just kept my eye on Stu and just tried to keep up with him. I had one near melt down when I found out that I’d spent two hours learning the wrong drill because I’d been given the wrong drill spot. That was more than compensated for by the surprising knowledge that I can throw a pretty effortless and decent four on saber … and yes, catch it and go on. Overall the day went well. Chops Inc. is a great group of people. They work hard but they know how to have a good time and, best of all, they don’t take themselves too seriously. They still recognize that this is supposed to be fun. For the most part, the guard is really young and, like any guard, there are varying degrees of ability. They’re a close group and remind me a lot of the Reneguard in ’02 in terms of how they work together and with the corps as a whole. The entire corps was universally warm and welcoming and I was continually impressed with how they went way out of their way to make us feel welcome and taken care of ... midwest hospitality?? I say this only because it surprised me … I don’t know that I’d expect as warm a reception from everyone if I were, oh say an Empire Statesmen, walking into a Renegade rehearsal. I think us California kids kind of hang back and wait to see what the new kid's got. It's the kids from God's country versus the Gods from kid's country if ya' know what I mean.

After rehearsal we were told we’d be staying at John Meyer’s (the corps founder) house near the rehearsal site. Turns out that practically the entire corps stayed there as well … and that’s the norm. Probably because, much like Renegades, most of them don’t live close to where they rehearse. That night was a great opportunity to make a few friends, watch some Chops DVDs and began to get some sense of Chops history through conversations with some of the members. I learned a little bit about “the circle” – to protect the minors certain activities are forbidden within “the circle” of the corps and it’s a rule that makes absolute sense IMO – and what’s expected of me as a Chopper. So … I hid my beer in a plastic coffee mug, took a dangerously hot shower, and someone made some fabulous Italian food that really hit the spot. Beer, a shower and good food was a guarantee that I was going to pass out from exhaustion standing up if I didn’t go to bed … so I did … and I don’t remember anything else until someone knocked on the door Sunday morning.

In true Renegade style, Stu and I were late to rehearsal. The only ones late to rehearsal. We represented well.

Sunday was a much easier rehearsal day. That’s 100% due to a decent amount of sleep and the fact that the weather was identical to Treasure Island the entire first half of the day. We put equipment work on drill and did many, many, many run throughs. By the end of Sunday we had drill for the opener, the production and the ballad with equipment work in spots. I was comfortable enough at that point that I would have been happy to do a show. At the end of the day, I still had the energy and enthusiasm for a few more run throughs and THAT has NEVER happened before.

Afterwards about a dozen or so of us gathered at Chipotle and I learned a bit more about some of the Choppers. Too soon it was time for Matt to take us to the airport and home. The flight was a lot more crowded but I slept regardless. I got home about 2:30 and hit the sack deciding not to think too far ahead to Monday and the real world until the alarm went off. I put myself to sleep doing run throughs in my head. I didn’t even make it through one.

So I’m off to a good start (and Stu was his typical Diva self … he’s such a sponge). I will confess that my anxiety level is a little high knowing that I won’t be going back for SIX weeks and knowing that I will always be in catch-up mode, but the trade off is worth it. It’s only a three weekend rehearsal commitment plus DCA and I still get to be on the 50 yard line in front of a couple thousand people doing my thing on Labor Day weekend. That leaves a lot of lifetime in between rehearsals to just enjoy the summer at home and if it means I have to duck in and out and do just parts of the show I’m so okay with that. I think this is going to be a really good adventure. I’m looking forward to making some terrific new friends and becoming a full-fledged Chopper when we return at the end of June … when Stubert and I will march our first show of the season !!

o o
O


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Minnesota Bound ...

I cannot believe I’m really doing this but here I go.

In approximately 24 hours, 36 pages of drill charts in hand (if not in my memory) and accompanying my good buddy Stu, I will board a plane bound for Minnesota to join Chops Inc. at their May camp. Up to this point the idea of marching Chops has been a bit surreal. Sort of wishful thinking. Now it’s suddenly staring me right between the eyes and is very real and just now … yeah, it figures … I’m realizing how truly unprepared I really am for this grand adventure.

Here’s hoping I don’t make a total ass of myself in the skills department.

Wish me luck … Stu doesn’t need any, he’s every Diva’s Diva.

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Sidebars galore ...

My Grandma used to say “I’m so T-U-R-D tired, that I could F-A-R-T faint”.

I’m so continually tired this last two weeks that I’m entertaining the notion that something may actually be wrong with me. I think my grandma’s little saying that’s been ping-ponging around in my brain for weeks has finally hit the “hey dummy, make a doctor’s appointment” button in my brain and is making it flash neon. I’m sure it’s probably just stress that’s worn me out but it’s time for a professional opinion. It’s the norm for me to deal with the current crisis and break down after the fact (almost like a reward - and truthfully I actually consider that a strength of sorts). So maybe it’s just that -- my body knows the current crisis is over and its break downing … damn it.

Sidebar: I've always been resentful of those people in my life who break down exactly when times get hard -- all I wanna' know is when do I get the luxury of a breakdown?

I feel like a little tin can that got dragged behind the “just married” sign for a couple of miles. Maybe I’m just getting old. Well, then again, I’ve always been “getting” old so maybe I’m just finally leaving the denial phase of getting old behind me and moving right on to the anger phase. Full alert! Anyway, I’m dragging so hard my butt’s leaving a trail everywhere I walk.

So I’m moved. I have my shiny little penny of an apartment (see model photo). Right now it looks nothing like the model because it’s filled with a ginormous couch and a series of brown cardboard boxes but sometime this weekend it will morph into a modelesque nest … and maybe then the cat will stop hiding under the bed. As I unpack boxes I’m finding surprisingly little in the way of necessary supplies. I didn’t realize that I’d left so much behind. For example, I had no towels. Not a one. No dishes, no glasses, no knives, no cookware and really no kitchen gadgets of any description. I ventured into Walmart for the most basic of supplies, but even after that little shopping adventure, my wish list remains longer than the line for the ladies room at the Super Bowl. The shopping is fun … the waiting to have the money to shop, eh, not so fun. I take comfort in the knowledge that building my nest over time will make it that much more special to me. Wow, there’s a new Hallmark card in that thought somewhere.

One of the bestest ever things about moving is that I have HBO and On-Demand back (and that makes me wanna’ do a happy dance), so I have tons of movies to catch up on up and plenty of time to do it in (and that makes me wanna’ do a happy dance too). I finally saw “The Devil Wears Prada” (which was eh, ok) and “The Lakehouse” (which I loved probably because I’m fascinated by the space/time continuum … well and Keanu Reeves is a little-bitta’-ok too).

Sidebar: I wonder if men like that really exist or if they’re just urban legends? I suppose if they did exist then songs like “Where Have All the Cowboys Gone” and “I Need a Hero” probably wouldn’t exist … it's not scientific but it's good enough for me and a thought-provoking topic for another day.

So I made a movie date with good buddy Stubert to watch “Running with Scissors” On-Demand and I’m really looking forward to that. I’ve already got popcorn and everything!

Sidebar: I adore having things to look forward to

Maybe I can get my obstacle course of brown cardboard boxes dealt with by then.


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On top o' the world ... or at least close

Today I have keys to a teeny tiny (postage stamp tiny) apartment. Getting here has been all consuming for the last 30 days but I’m here damn it and, as a consequence, today is a very good day and it’s the first day in a long series of days that I haven’t felt like it’s a dog-eat-dog world and I’m wearing Milk Bone underwear.

I nearly didn’t move into the new little apartment at all as three days ago my boss informed me that the company would like me to move down to a med center project in Santa Maria. It figures!!! I sit around for months and months with no place to be waiting for some life changing event to happen to me and it finally comes two weeks AFTER I’ve just signed away the next twelve months of my life. Oy Vey! I will miss the beach that I very nearly lived by but things happen for a reason and I trust that my guardian angels are doing their job with due diligence. So I will see you at Home Depot buying goodies to personalize my new postage stamp sized space (say that 10 times quickly) and wondering if lavender is a good color for a kitchen. Yes, that’s right, lavender.

Anyhoo ….

On the judging front I got some good news in the form of my first ever assignments for WBA. I’m excited! It’s a great opportunity for me to stretch my little judging wings in yet another circuit. Last weekend I judged a parade in San Jose for NCBA. Ewwwwww is my first impression of spring band season. Yuck is my second. Next Saturday I’ll be judging a parade in Stockton … and then moving my entire household. Thank goodness for good friends! The only true consolation for pulling double duty that day are the many margaritas we’re all sure to consume afterwards in celebration of Cinco de Mayo … or finishing the move, take your pick.

So once again I have a home base … a foundation … a fortress … a sanctuary … a place of respite from everything that has come before … a place to begin again … and I gotta’ say I’m feeling more than a little triumphant right now.

It's a good thing I have a sense of humor ...

I had the wildest dreams last night. At one point I was in a hay wagon with Fred and Alton and I was wearing a 1975 27th Lancers rifle uniform. Next I was taking the field as a 27 rifle with a big furry hat that didn’t fit right and I was screaming at everyone that they forgot to teach me the show! Suddenly I was transported to owning a toy store where my sales clerks had accidentally tagged everything at 69 cents and merchandise was flying out the door and I was losing money hand over fist, so I’m screaming at everyone not to sell ANOTHER SINGLE THING and simultaneously warding off a savagely angry, incredibly ugly, sore-encrusted, toothless, Asian woman accusing me of doing the D&D with her husband?!?!?!?!?!?!? What? Needless to say I woke up more tired than I was when I went to bed the night before. When I first woke up I just sat comatose on the edge of the bed for about 10 minutes. I think I might have actually been asleep with my eyes open. Yikes. Stress does really scary, scary things to the brain.

My outlook today is not at all helped by the fact that my feet are positively killing me. It’s so bad that I don’t even want to walk to the copier a mere 15 steps from my desk. It’s because yesterday I was in a particularly stylish mood and decided to sport 3” heels at work. Truly, I don’t know what possessed me. I might as well have stuffed my feet into the paper shredder beneath my desk. Today I’m wearing my favorite clogs and recovery is slow but imminent. As soon as I get home I’m shoving the 3” heels waaaaayyyy under the bed.

I went to lunch today on a quest for three things: gas (for the car, not me), a car wash (because it’s as close to a relaxing bubble bath as you can get in a lunch hour) and a Rodeo Burger (because they’re .99). I handily accomplished all three. Funny thing about the car wash ... there was no dryer ... so my car was still wet when I went through the BK drive through and the BK manager who handed me my Rodeo Burger asked me if it was raining ... despite the sunny, dry day we could both clearly see. I gaped at him for a solid 10 seconds without saying anything before taking the bag out of his hand and driving away thinking “Good grief! Now I know why you work at Burger King”. I then made like Greta Garbo and ate my lunch “alone” in my car. I needed the quiet time after the insane morning zoo that is my job. I was at a point where if one more person spoke to me I was going to tear off their arms and use them to beat them about the head and shoulders. Seriously, I sometimes feel that I’d accomplish just as much with a greater degree of success if I worked with toddlers or trained monkeys instead of this group of “professionals” I work with. I think I may have an inkling of understanding as to what causes people to “go postal” and I’m beginning to think that working here is smothering my spirit … if not killing it outright. The bottom of the totem pole is no place to be. Vent, vent, vent and exhale … that’s what the blog is for.
On my way back from lunch I noticed an oversized delivery van parked in the front of the building. It had the words “EMAIL”,
“PRINTING”, “FAXING” and … “FULFILLMENT” boldly emblazoned on its’ side. Hmmmm … what if “fulfillment” really was something you could get delivered to you out of an oversized delivery van? I know I’d place a big order … how about you?

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I knew it all along ...

You Communicate Like a Man

When you communicate, you like to get to the point. You're not afraid to say what's on your mind - and leave it at that. Talking about your emotions drains you. You rather keep them to yourself. You prefer solving problems to wallowing in your sorrows.

Do You Communicate Like a Man or a Woman?

Thought for the day ...

There's a one letter difference between the word HEROES and HERPES ....

Funny how what was once a grind ...

is now something to look forward to. I’ve opted to use my stash to make the leap to my own place. Neither the time or the place is exactly perfect (but what is) but it does suit 90% of my criteria, it’s a short 10 minutes from my front door to my desk chair and it’s happening before the pending eviction hits my credit report. All good things and I'm intermittently excited and panicked to death. The whole moving thing has elevated my stress level exponentially but I know that’s temporary … after all, there’s a lot of details to be attended to in a move and especially this one what with coordinating clearing out the storage, making sure the money is in the bank on time, figuring out how to get a Uhaul (without a license) and coordinating that with the boys days off so they’re available to move my enormous free-to-me-thanks-to-Stu couch to the second floor… just a lot to do … but once I’m in I know there will be an enormous sense of relief because then, no matter what happens car-wise, I know with a certainty that I can get to work. Since work is what makes the rest of my life possible, getting there has to be at the top of my list of priorities. Moving has the added bonus of getting Teddy the dog and Motown the cat back in my life too. They’ll be good company and together we’ll find the rut that is my normal life. I guess Dionne Warwick was right when she said “you don’t know what you’ve got til it’s gone”.

Today is Friday the 13th … almost always a RED LETTER day for me in a good way so I’m looking forward to today being a good one.

Hope yours is too!

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On the edge of a percipice ... or ten

Still recovering from the onslaught that was the weekend of Championships and just now beginning to feel a bit normal. The week following Championships was fraught with professional and personal challenges … none of which killed me so they obviously made me stronger right? Hope springs eternal. The worst part of the week is La Petit Grenouille is ill … gravely ill … fingers are crossed that it’s not terminal but all indications seem to point in that direction. Sigh. Eating the elephant one bite at a time, The Frog is on the list of things to spend money on … but not today, and maybe not for awhile. Til then, I’ve borrowed my son’s car, put a new windshield on it and am driving gingerly until I can drive legally.


The big event of last weekend was Easter and I went to church on Sunday and managed not to burst into flames …. that alone is a media event. I reconnected with family and, in general, got a reality check on what’s most important to me in life. On Monday while driving to work, I briefly entertained the notion of accepting Jesus Christ as my personal savior and what that might mean in my life …. I’ve always envied the peace that real Christians seem to have and of course I want that too, who wouldn’t … then I remembered Jesus is a time traveler and is likely just as befuddled by my challenges as I am. Sigh.

Rhetorical Question --- how did Christ die for my sins when I wouldn’t be born for another 2000 or so years? Couldn’t that mean by default that Christ died for OUR sins – even the ones yet to be committed. If you accept that, then wouldn’t it follow that we are going to succeed or fail (and btw be judged) as a group and not as individuals? Wouldn’t the golden rule and the Ten Commandments and judgment day make a lot more sense in that context? Could that be why we’re encouraged to take care of one another, to turn the other cheek, to judge not lest ye be judged, to cast not the first stone? I think we’re God’s grand experiment. A challenge to the angels … an affront of sorts in fact. I think the experiment of humankind will succeed or fail as a whole. Sorta’ puts a different spin on things don’t it? What I know is that I’m a tiny cog in this world and the only thing I can commit to is to bear my burdens in the noblest way I can, use my intellect to make the best decisions I’m capable of, help those I’m directly responsible for and to graciously take on additional burdens only when I can do so without losing myself in the process. In the meantime, God is a blip on my radar and, at this point, occupies a lot of my thought process. Still, I can’t help but wonder why it’s my job to seek him and not his to seek me. A topic for another day I guess.

In the meantime, I’ve started teaching for the spring band season … details (and length of stay) still to be worked out … and today, I’m going to finalize or abandon my apartment hunt. This is a HUGE event and I want to be very, very, very positive that I’m truly, truly, truly ready before I make a jump. Today will be a watershed day either way.

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Ode to a Bunny ...

All the world shall be your enemy
Prince with a Thousand Enemies
and whenever they catch you
they will kill you
but first they must catch you
digger ... listener ... runner ... Prince with a swift warning
be cunning and full of tricks
and your people shall never be destroyed


- Watership Down -

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Championship Weekend

Championship weekend begins tonight.

There are three long shows to judge this weekend; Fresno on Friday, San Mateo on Saturday and San Jose on Sunday and while I’m thrilled for what they’re likely to do for my bank account I’m worried about having the energy to do it all as great as I want to do it.

Tonight I’m picking up my fellow MBoB Alton (that’s him in the picture circa 2002) from the airport and he’ll be my road dog throughout the weekend (and it’s good that I’ll have him to keep me awake through some of the more intense late night driving). We tried to convince Stu to go with his but he has an aversion to the 3-hour drive (wuss!). Personally, I think he just has a secret fear of frogs. So tomorrow at noon the road trip begins as Alton and I head down to Fresno for the first show. After the show we’ll be driving back to the bay area to connect with Stu (who will drive to the bay area but not RIDE to Fresno … sheesh) and our ace-coom-boom Diane and we’ll all get our hibernation on in a shared hotel room. Saturday morning Di, Alton and I get to sleep in while Stu journeys to San Mateo to judge the baby guards. We’ll catch up with him in the afternoon to judge the big kids and afterwards we’re all crashing at our friend Julie’s house for a “pajama party” (she’s the hostess with the mostest) where we’ll watch a lot of colorguard DVDs. I’m really looking forward to seeing Jules. On Sunday I’ll be the one that’s up and out early judging the baby guards (while everyone else sleeps in). Later in the day the remainder of the now enlarged entourage will catch up with me at the show and we’ll all watch the big guards together and alternately point and laugh, yawn and be completely inspired. There are many Reneguard alums planning to attend the show and I’m looking forward to reconnecting with most of them. Afterwards we’re all headed back to Julie’s to eat drink and be merry (for tomorrow may be scary). Somehow we will all make it back to Roseville on Sunday night/Monday morning where Alton has a 6 am flight out of Sac. Whew! And the weekend will be over. I hope I say all the right things into the tape recorder and write down all the right numbers. Mostly, I hope we have fun reconnecting. I hope we laugh a lot. I hope we take good memories of the 2007 season away with us.

Another season bites the dust this weekend and it sure went by quickly.

Real life begins again on April 2. Sigh. I hope I’m ready for it.

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Thought for the day ...

I think the standard wedding vows have outlived their usefulness. I think the words have become like the words to the “Pledge of Allegiance” or “Ring Around The Rosie” – we know them well but we don’t spend too much time thinking about the real meaning behind the words.

I think I’d like to hear vows that are meaningful in today’s world with less biblical mumbo jumbo and more plain talk. I think it should be simple, it should be real and if either partner can't, or won't, keep this covenant, then they shouldn't start something they can’t finish.

I promise to spend the rest of my life …

Making sure all your tears are tears of happiness
Sharing your accomplishments and your problems
Being proud of you
Working to make myself a better person so we’ll be a better couple
Always believing in you as well as believing you
Holding you with open arms and making my open arms a place you want to be
Working to ensure that my ego is never more important than yours
Accepting that sometimes you’ll be right and I’ll be wrong
Knowing that everyday will entail compromise and negotiation
Understanding that finding the good times is easy and that not letting the bad times tear us apart takes diligence
Keeping the faith in all ways

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If ...

I did a lot of driving this weekend, some of it on the outskirts of nowhere so I had a lot of trouble finding a palatable radio station … which wouldn’t have been hard at all if I spoke Spanish (or were I someone who used a used a sharpie to make eyebrows) … but anyhoo, I was randomly searching and happened on a pretty song I’d never heard before and so I stopped searching until about 3 minutes later the DJ came on and said “worship, you got that right, that’s what we’re here for”. At that point I realized it was a religious station and started pushing the search button again but for the remainder of the trip I could NOT get what that DJ said out of my head. What if he knows what he’s talking about? What if God created man simply for his own pleasure? What if our only purpose in life is to worship Him? What if that’s why it’s so difficult to find any sense in our existence? Maybe that’s why life is just a series of meaningless obstacles to overcome? What if that’s really ALL we’re here for. What if it’s really THAT simple? What if THAT should be the point of our day everyday? What if God is a childish, self-centered, a-hole just like the rest of us? Suddenly I feel about as important as a dust mote and for some strange reason the whole thing reminds me of a Mother Goose poem I learned as a child.

If all the world were apple pie,
And all the sea were ink,
And all the trees were bread and cheese,
What should we have for drink?

Last Wednesday I helped my son move into his new place. The first order of business was buying a mattress so he would have a bed. He told me he had a “twin size frame” in his new room (along with a dresser and a chair). Ok … a quick internet search helped me to quickly realize that a real mattress wasn’t in the budget so we opted for an Aerobed. We hit the Walmart and bought one in a twin size, along with all the bedding to go with it, a couple of pillows, a nightstand, a lamp, an area rug and some other essentials to get him homey in his new home … then we carried all that up 3 flights of stairs! Within one second of arriving in his new room I realized I’d be immediately going back to Walmart to exchange the bed. Ack! There was no “twin frame” in there! Instead there were 3 old mattresses all piled up on top of each other. Sigh. A couple of hours later I had made the trip to Walmart, sans receipt since Chris had lost it, and ended up not being able to return the twin bed and becoming the proud of owner of a full size Aerobed, a twin size Aerobed, a full size bed-in-a-bag as well as a matching twin size bed-in-a-bag. I love Walmart. I hate Walmart. I am soooo conflicted. Ah well. Now Chris has a full size bed at his house and I have a matching twin size bed at mine ... and the kid is settled in his new place and sleeping on four mattresses like something right out of the story about the Princess and the Pea. Sigh.

I hit the judging trifecta once again this weekend with an NCBA show in Benicia on Friday, a show in Modesto on Saturday morning and a show in San Jose on Saturday night. To make up for the hectic pace of Friday and Saturday I made Sunday leisurely. I left the bay area at 11:00, grabbed some eats in Cordelia and made my usual Dixon Walmart stop and reaching home around 3:00. I completed my weekend by going to Outback with my fellow Sacto guard geeks where my two-margarita dinner more than compensated for the intensity of the earlier part of the weekend. Tequila should be a food group.

Today I’m back at work toting that barge and lifting that bale and,thankfully, none the worse for wear really.

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I See One-Armed People ...

I’ve seen no less than 8 in the last five days … 4 of them on Saturday at the guard show … I think it’s my Dad trying to tell me something.

In my experience it’s not all that out of the ordinary to spot a person who is missing, or has lost, a leg – or two. Understandable since there’s birth defects, accidents, war, disease and all manner of causes to which people lose their legs, or the use of their legs and so it doesn’t seem unusual to me that I see, on average, 1-2 people a week challenged by this. I’m sure there are even more who are wearing a prosthesis and I just don’t notice (which is too bad because gaining use of a prosthetic anything takes a Herculean effort deserving of a standing ovation … but that’s a story for another day).

Conversely, in my experience it’s not all that ordinary to spot a person who is missing, or has lost, an arm – or two. I don’t know why that is, it just is. All the reasons for losing arms are pretty much the same as those for legs wouldn’t ya’ think? So why do I so see people missing an arm only about once every six months? In my view, more arms appear to be missing, or useless, due to birth defects than any of the other causes and I’m wondering if there isn’t some sort of taboo against removing them – as though doctors fight a bit harder to save an arm than they do a leg. It’s just an observation that’s in no way based on medical fact. Just a feeling I’ve got.

I think I notice missing limbs more than the average person because I grew up with a Dad who was born missing his left arm from just above the elbow. The way the story goes is that my Grandmother took a spill down the stairs in the latter part of her pregnancy that caused my Dad to turn and get twisted in the umbilical cord. Theoretically the cord wrapped around his left arm fiercely enough that it pinched off the circulation causing the limb to wither and fall off. I disagree with this theory. I think the umbilical cord is likely the cause but I think it probably happened early in the pregnancy rather than later because his little body struggled valiantly to keep growing the arm for when he was born he had five tiny little finger-stubs growing at the end of the stump that would be his left arm. Had he lost the arm in 7th month (as the story goes) there would not have been sufficient time for this “regeneration” to take place. I think it happened while the arm was forming initially. The umbilical cord also wrapped itself around his neck causing him to born a “blue” baby. That combined with his missing limb and the fact that his entire body was caved in and withered on the left side (later they would discover that the lung on his left side was hopelessly collapsed also) caused the doctors to “throw him to the end of the bed” (to quote my Grandmother) and set to work on her. It’s wondrous that he survived at all. It’s a credit to my Grandmother that her “crippled” child went literally from March of Dimes poster child to being his high school’s quarterback and an all-conference player, a nightclub entertainer and eventually an engineer. My Mom says the first thing my Dad did when he met me was count all my fingers and toes. I can only imagine his relief.


Last night as I was sitting in the pub at a table by a window sharing a pitcher of beer with my kids and talking about this exact personal phenomenon of seeing an inordinate number of one-armed people, a little dark-haired boy of about 5 came merrily skipping down the sidewalk right in front of the bar’s window … he was laughing as he hopped over the outside tables and having a great time being his own best buddy. As he hopped over the table directly in front of our window I was startled to notice he was missing his left arm from the elbow down ……………………… and I nearly spilled my beer in my lap.

You’ve got my attention Dad but I need another sign to figure out the message.



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76 Guards in 24 Hours .... can you spell overdose?

This looks a lot like a guard show to me. I first learned about this by watching a movie called "Under the Tuscan Sun" and was fascinated enough by it to look it up on the internet. Flag Throwers - Check it out


Weekend Happenings ...

Friday Night … Del Oro Show
Woodcreek = 1st Place Novice Guard

Saturday Afternoon … Granada Show
Franklin = 2nd Place Novice Guard

I wish either of them were going to Championships … I wish they both were. I think they would have kicked some serious booty. Ah well! I’m happy they both ended their seasons on such a high note.

On Friday night my friend Robert (another guard-geek-judging-type) and I carpooled to Fresno where we judged 43 color guards in a 6 hour span with only a 15-minute break to sustain us. Whew! Circuit Highpoint -- I love the Fresno circuit because they pay you before the show so you can leave the moment you’ve handed your last sheet in. Circuit Low point – the food wasn’t ready when the judges arrived so we starved for a couple of hours until the break. At the end of the show, we were hanging around chatting and waiting for a recap and I got blindsided by an instructor whose guard I tanked. I didn’t mean to tank them. It wasn’t an oversight. It wasn’t even a mistake. I just liked the other five guards better. I’m expecting an “accountability email” sometime today. After the show we drove to Tracy since we both had a show to judge in Livermore the next day. Tracy was an approximate halfway point and good choice. I was dead-dog tired by the time we got there (at about 2 a.m.) and the MicroTel chain is my new favorite motel choice. You get a LOT more for a few extra bucks …. safety and lack-of-foot-traffic being the primo motivating factors behind spending those few extra dollars.

Saturday morning I headed out bright and early to attend a meeting for all the folks judging at the Livermore and Granada shows. We talked at length about the meaning of the sheet criteria over Starbucks coffee. I know it clarified some things for me and I think it gave us all our best opportunity yet to apply the criteria in a more consistent manner between judges. All of those present have a championship slot so I think what we accomplished at this meeting will carry us over the remainder of the season and has positioned us to be really successful … and I’m excited about the jumpstart that gives us going into the next season.

Judging the Livermore show took an eternity … it was brutal … and I think that’s because we had mostly jr high and novice guards there, OR because I’m really sick, OR because I had just judged 44 guards the night before???? Generally, I enjoy judging the novice guards … I really do …. I think it’s where we judges have the biggest opportunity to make the most positive impact. I sincerely feel that if groups don’t grow that, to some degree, the judging community is responsible (for who else is there to help develop the beginning instructors). I love watching the kids get better and better with each season. Even so, judging that day was akin to having a terminal illness and I couldn’t wait to just keel over and die. Get the shovel already! Pay me and let me outta’ here. Sigh. After we were done at Livermore the three of us on the panel all headed over to the show at Granada to get another chance to watch the Open guards. I’m so glad we went. Watching as a spectator with another trusted colleague gave me the chance to review the overall production value of each guard. I took some notes and mentally filed some visual impressions and I feel pretty confident about my observations going into championships …. which is a mere two weeks away.

After the show Saturday night four of the judges gathered at Applebee’s (where we probably should have paid rent since we were there so long they finally had to ask us to leave) to compare notes and talk shop. My true-blue friend Di convinced me that we should stay in a hotel that night instead of braving the long drive to Roseville in the wee hours of the morning. I’m so glad she’s a tenacious chick … it took her four tries to convince me but she finally did. Thanks girlfriend!

Sunday morning Di and I parted ways over muffins and cheese biscuits around 10 a.m. and it took me ALL day to get home … I stopped at Walmart for some much deserved retail therapy and a long overdue pedicure then took myself to Davis where I lingered all afternoon with my son on his front porch finally arriving home in Roseville around 5:00 p.m. just in time to go to the Benedict’s house for a birthday celebration …. mmmm barbecue and birthday cake. What a relaxing day.

Highlights ...
As the season winds down I find myself counting my dollars down too. My earnings will go back to normal after 4/1 and I want to be sure that I’ve hit as many big ticket items as I can. Even though I’ll still have some important things to cover, I’ve shaken off and stomped a mudhole in the ass of most of the monkeys that were on my back … so … I feel good … da-da da-da da-da dut <$1 to Joe>.