It's Tour Time ...

... and as my little rookies hit the road this July 10th, I can't help but wonder what they'll find out about each other and themselves during this, relatively short but (trust me), life-changing adventure on which they're about to embark. It makes me reflect on my first tour of my rookie year.


1973

Davenport, Iowa –After several days of pb&j and cold cereal in a Dixie cup, the corps went to Bishop’s for dinner. Real food and fresh fruit -- each table had a little lamp on it that would bring the waitress running if you turned it on and they had self-cleaning toilet seats that whooshed up into an ultra-violet light chamber as soon as you stood up. After dinner my friend Ann Miller and I squeeze in a trip to the five-and-dime across the street for who knows what and end up getting back to the buses just in time to inhale the diesel fumes as they pull away. We jump and holler but only succeed in getting most of the snare line to wave amiably at us from the back window (and the seed of doubt regarding the intelligence of drummers, in general, plants itself in my little brain). At 18, Ann was 2+ years older than me and a vet. This made her an unquestionable authority in all things as far as I was concerned. She called the police, who picked us up and gave us a ride directly to the school. Whew! Thought we made it. Then I see GR waiting for us at the end of the school's driveway. No words. He just escorted us to the field where the corps was already an hour deep into rehearsal. We were late (a major sin) and wearing flip flops (a bigger sin). I remember wishing that the earth would simply open up and swallow me. Our guard captain made the evening a memorable one for us ... and I saw my very first firefly that night while doing a 30-minute mark time.

Great Bend, Kansas – I realize with horror that I've just left my full uniform bag hanging on the bleachers at the housing site we’re pulling away from. I sweat bullets for the entire bus ride to the rehearsal/show site praying someone picked it up for me. As soon as we arrive I go to my guard captain seeking help … and she tells me to talk to Royer ... omg. So I delay. I waited through the entire pre-show rehearsal block, dreading having to tell him, before I finally, finally realize I have no choice except to either make myself wildly popular by marching the show in a t-shirt, spankies and white marching boots ... or go to him and confess. I still remember what the grass patch looked like that I stared at the entire time I explained my problem to him. I don’t remember exactly what he said but I do remember his hand was very heavy on my shoulder and the words “dumb shit” were used. He’d seen my bag and put it under the bus and had, all day, just been watching me sweat. I learned that day that no matter how bad you screw up, they can’t kill you and eat you. You’ll just wish they had.

LaCrosse, WI – we’re there to make the McCormick film and march a show. We’re staying in the dorms at the University. It was a big deal and huge treat because we have unprecedented time off, no chaperones and only two rules for the four days we’re there …
#1 Be at rehearsals on time, in top-top form and,
#2 make sure we make lights out (the main doors lock at midnight).
To give you an idea what those four days were like ... LaCrosse was the spot where I sat at a bar for the very first time and got served an alcoholic beverage – a pink lady followed by a boil maker (okay 4) ... and I'm 15 ... a regular prodigy as I've learned with very little coaching how to stumble back to my room by midnight and get into bed without throwing up. It's a skill I still value today. It's our last night there and I’m awakened by this little click, click, click sound. It’s about 1am and my sleepy brain thinks the sound is rain hitting the window. Then it dawns on me that someone’s throwing things at my window … so I get up and go to the window and look down from the second floor to see my friend standing on the sidewalk below and pleading pathetically to be let in. He's a friend, so I sneak downstairs very carefully, employing my best ninja skills, cross the big, dark, empty lobby and open the main door as quietly and carefully as I can ... to Mr. Royer ... and he has his arm around my friend's shoulder. I don’t know what transpired on the other side of the door to put he and I in this situation, but that story “The Lady and The Tiger” always reminds me of this event.

Ah, drum corps ... where you learn life lessons that have absolutely nothing to do with drum corps.

I hope my little rookies have as much fun, learn as much and make as many life long friends on their first tour as I did on mine.

What their parents don't know, won't hurt 'em :)



.

Less really is more after all ...

I've recently discovered that I am exactly like that girl that Billy Joel is singing about when he says "she'll only reveal what she wants you to see". My family, my very few friends, my various coworkers and my veritable army of acquaintances all know me as someone just a little different. When I am at work I am different than when I am with real friends. I am not the same person at work that I am at home ... and vice versa (and thank goodness) ... and so on and so on and so on, ad infinitum.

My epiphany has come about as the result of my "worlds" colliding far too frequently. As more and more people I work with run into people I love, or judge, or teach ... or despise. Each time it happens I feel momentarily awkward. Downright naked even. This awkwardness isn't based in fact or any type of real logic (and because so much of what I do isn't this just shouldn't surprise me, geez) ... it's really just a feeling. I've always been a self-described "onion" and have been content with that to a large degree, but even I didn't realize how many layers I'd developed over the years until people from all over my life started wandering into each other and comparing notes.

Maybe no one person will ever know all my layers. Maybe I'll never know all my layers. Or just maybe that bit of self discovery is the exact point of having lived at all. I guess I'll find out because now that I'm aware that I've been unconciously "packaging" myself for my different "audiences" I've had to also embrace the realization that it's a lot of damn work! Fact is it's just too much work and it's making me old and tired so I'm electing to stop it ... right now ... cold turkey. From this moment on I'm doing myself a big favor and committing to being only one person instead of one person at a time. So please don't be hurt, or surprised, or mad if I'm a WYSIWYG (aka wizzywig) or "what you see if what you get" ... it's absolutely intentional. Having acknowledged my own facade, I won't now sacrifice my new-found self even if it means I may seem utterly, blatantly, and rudely truthful at times. Maybe this will make me unpopular. Maybe it won't. Either way it's okay ... such is life ... and real friends will be able to deal with it. Anyone who can't shouldn't let the door hit them on their way out. I'll make this small sacrifice for increased sanity, and anyway, the older and meaner I get the more I realize that I can do with less and less ... of everything actually.

Call it silly, call it selfish or decide not to call it, or me, at all, it's okay. I think I'll call it finally growing up and accepting myself, warts and all, and being happy with the real me.

:)

I'm just sitting here watching the wheel ...

... go round and round.

I've never much liked the Beatles. I guess I was too young or too immature or too .... I dunno' something ... to appreciate them when they came along. Or maybe not enough of something else. Maybe I wasn't cool enough ..... but I never liked them. I became aware of them in the 7th grade only because a girl in my journalism class had her entire Science binder covered with pictures of John Lennon she'd cut out of teen magazines. She couldn't believe it when I told her that I'd never had a crush on Ringo, George, John or Paul... ok maybe the teeniest, tiniest one on Paul from when I saw him on Ed Sullivan but I wasn't going to confess that to this girl. I despised her AND the Beatles at that point. But really I just didn't get them. Conversely I had Herman's Hermits records (yes records, large round disks of pressed vinyl that played sounds when you pulled a needle through their grooves) that I played over and over and over til I knew every syllable about "Mrs. Brown's Lovely Daughter". Herman's Hermits are gone but the Beatles live on. More evidence that all my taste is in my mouth.



Along that same vein, I never liked, or understood, John Lennon. Now that I'm older I sort of feel that I missed the boat there. After ignoring him for 40+ years, I now find that a lot of what he had to say in his songs really touches me in my, now mature, soul. As a young adult I couldn't "imagine" all those things he wanted me to see. But right now ... as I wonder about what to "give" when something has to "give" ...

well ...

I find myself thinking about stepping off the merry go round.

.

Into the Ocean ...

Elk Grove Winterguard 2008 -- March 2008 -- about a month before they placed 6 out of 19 at NCBA Championships. We all learned something about ourselves and each other :)

.

Back from the dead ... well, ok the very busy

Ok, ok … so I’ve been lousy at keeping the blog current. Life got in the way. Gee whiz! Lately I’ve been running pretty fast. It’s all due to obligations at work. I finally moved to Redding on 4/7 but between then and January 3rd I’ve been making the Redding Holiday Inn home base. It had its good parts and its bad parts. Good parts = eating out every night on an expense report. Bad parts = picking up some 15 pounds from eating out every night on an expense report. Good parts = no house work. Bad parts = nothing to putter amongst. So the door has finally been closed on my days as a hotel resident. I’m back to some normal routines and some normal digs and I’m glad. I got a little house this go-round instead of an apartment and that’s turned out to be a blessing is so many ways. I’d forgotten that as convenient as apartment life can be, it’s very miniaturized. I’m enjoying my extra space … which I totally recognize will not be enough space by the end of the lease. It’s the way of the world, the nature of the beast, a fact of life. For now, it’s bliss when I open a closet I forgot I even had. And sometimes I find myself just standing in front of my newest big purchase … my shiny white refrigerator ... and just clapping my hands with glee.

January to April: in a nutshell as small as my old apartment.
- I taught a lot of colorguard
- I judged a lot of colorguard
- I got paid more than I deserve for both
- I watched a lot of really bad colorguard (and the checks made up for that so I guess I deserved them after all)
- I cut and pasted my entire life into Redding
- Wrecked my kid’s vehicle and got a new-to-me vehicle
- I made friends, left friends, influenced people, pissed off people and, in general, left my normal ginormous carbon footprint on everything I came in contact with. C’est la vie.

I’ve changed virtually every aspect of my personal life in the last 90 days. Some people kill themselves over less stress. Now I understand what a steel magnolia really is. Who knew?

Still and all ...a big shout out to God and his Angels for their twisted but numerous kindnesses. Two thumbs up! This time when I went into the tornado I emerged intact and in the magical land of Oz for a change. Hooray for me!

And that’s all I have to say about that. Now it’s onward to summer.

I’ve been to a Mandarins camp or two now and have found my place there. It’s different, and yet it’s the same, and I find that, for the most part, I really enjoy just about everything about it. I’m looking forward to the California shows and just found out today what my tour involvement will be. I’m pretty excited for all that’s yet to come this summer in my colorguard world and my real world.

In the meantime, I really like Redding. I finally figured out that the reason I like it is because it’s a lot like the world was in the early 80s … slower, nicer and cleaner …and I make sense here.


It’s a good thing :)




.

We interrupt your programming ...

for the following special announcement ...

Chance of a lifetime (and of course it comes NOW when I'm moving away but I'm doing it anyway) ...

I'll be part of the guard staff working this season with the Sacramento Mandarins Drum and Bugle Corps.

Sometimes I just have to pinch myself to believe my luck.

Needless to say this is a BIG DEAL and I'm really looking forward to the opportunity.

Woot!

Long time no blog ...

Wow! I haven’t blogged in forever.

<------- and this is a big part of why. For the last month I’ve been working at Kitchell’s job site at Mercy Med Center in Redding 3 or 4 days a week … and it looks like I’ll be relocating up there sometime in the near future … and should be there until 2011 or thereabouts. Actually not blogging is a good sign because I generally talk to my blog when I’m unhappy ... so hey! … maybe I’m having a run of happiness. Shhhhhhh!

Seriously though life has been really good lately … so good it’s a bit boring really. Family life is good, finances are improving and work is good. All is well in my little world and that's a big deal.

Redding is very pretty. Lakes, creeks, rivers and the mountains everywhere you look. There’s every kind of shopping and eatery you could ask for … and surprise, surprise, it snows there just enough to be pretty without being an inconvenience. It’s close to every kind of water sport for summer and skiing in the winter … and I know it sound incredibly hokey and un-Jojo like but the people there are universally nice … seriously. It’s a very relaxing environment that has a slower rhythm and I think that’s what makes it easy for people to just be kind to one another. I’m looking forward to the move. In fact, the sooner, the better. Being stretched between two places makes me largely ineffective in both if you know what I mean.

I had a recent bout of temporary insanity that was cured by reconnaissance mission reports from fellow solider and trusted buddy Di, who bravely went to Renegades camp last weekend ... thanks to her I’m sane again and perfectly content to be a spectator. Just as well because incredibly I am STILL recovering from my attempted space launch. I think the damage to my left shoulder and tailbone may be permanent. Egads. Moving in certain directions STILL takes my breath away.

I’ve judged a couple of shows …one not so well … the other much better. The first gig was in Fresno … about 46 colorguards … I lost control about half way through it and it was real fight to manage the numbers til the end. Because of the size of those shows number management is always a challenge but WGI’s new philosophy, and the elimination of block scores, made it more of a challenge than usual. The next show was in Bakersfield … a new circuit for me and a tremendously long way to travel to judge by the way ... too long I’ve decided ... but I’m glad for the chance to have stretched out. I admit I was nervous when I got there but I “fell back on my technique” so to speak and did just fine. The next show for me is another Fresno gig, followed by a Modesto gig, followed by Leigh ... a weekend trifecta ... I love those because they always help me establish my “groove” as it were. I’m really looking forward to it all but I have a lot of homework I have to do to prepare ... and very little time to do it in.

Tonight is the last rehearsal for the Elkies before their first show on Saturday at Rodriguez. Here’s the thing ... the show is a minute short ... we haven’t seen the floor yet ... or the inside of a gym ... and we just got our prop materials dropped off last night. So tonight’s rehearsal will be about putting a quickie ending on the show (or finding a logical place to just stop, although I prefer the former over the latter), getting the girls on and off the floor and hopefully incorporating the floor into the show. I’m opting not to use the props this weekend. I think that’s too much and a big neon invitation for trouble ... so that’s that. The upside is there’s absolutely no danger that we’ll be moved up ... lol ... and that’s good. More on that front AFTER the upcoming weekend.




I think my angels
are doing an outstanding
job this past month

thanks guys

I owe you a drink
when we finally meet.

Merry Christmas ...

A Christmas Story For You

Have a Very Happy Christmas

and a

Wonderful New Year !

Space Launch ...

I pushed the snooze button one too many times this morning … okay two too many times … anyway I was rushing as I headed out the door today … one moment I was on the stairs and the next I was looking at the sky, wondering what just happened … and then thinking ...

ooooooooowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.

I know my right heel was the culprit. I think it stepped on a wet leaf and launched me straight into outer space. I landed, splat, right on the back of my ribcage and head. Hard … and then slid down about eight steps … because my hands were full and I couldn’t stop myself.

It was a truly Three Stooges moment.

I laid there for several moments taking inventory. Realizing nothing was permanently broken I lamely began to wonder if any of my neighbors saw my Sputnik launch imitation.

I then briefly contemplated whether or not saving money at Payless-Shoe-Source was really “saving” me anything at all.

I will be home on the couch for the next 36 hours sucking up Aleve and wishing there was an at home, over the counter, version of a morphine drip available at my local pharmacy.

Ai Chihuahua!

.

Joining the reindeer games ...

It’s raining today and the wind is blowing so hard that it’s finally blown ALL the leaves off ALL the trees in ALL of Sacramento … and onto the legs of my beige slacks as I walked from the parking lot to the front door of my office building this morning. Charming.

I’m still looking for my holiday mood to emerge. Confusing because my little tree is up and decorated, I’ve donated my unwrapped toy to Toys for Tots, I’ve dropped a $20 in the Salvation Army bucket, I have presents figured out and a whirlwind shopping extravaganza planned for this Saturday, the weather is doing its part nicely and I’ve gathered an impressive collection of holiday goodies from coworkers and clients. So (swings head back and forth) where’s my holiday mood? I’m thinking once I leave work this Friday and am looking at twelve uninterrupted days of holiday “cheer” ahead of me at home watching cheesy holiday movies and drinking chai lattes that the planets will align properly and the holiday mood will envelope me like a warm slipper. Well, it better >(

Last week I had a turn and burn to Phoenix for a company meeting. It now feels like a dream that I couldn’t remember once I woke up. I believe the reason I’ve “forgotten” the whole day is because I really thought I was going to die on the plane ride home. I’m so serious. It was raining heavily the entire way and it’s the first and only time I was certain that the plane I was on was going to fall out of the sky like a rock. White-knuckle ride doesn’t begin to cover it ... and it wasn't just me ... lots of folks were white-knuckling it. The captain told us “don’t worry” so many times I wanted to kick him in his cock … pit door. Some lady a few seats in front of me actually had to be sedated by an attendant. I took to sedating myself with a couple of free drink coupons until the captain told the flight attendants to discontinue the beverage service and strap in … and 30 minutes or so later when the plane suddenly lost a lot of altitude really suddenly I’m pretty sure everyone on board was wishing they had clean underwear in their carry on. Future flying is a necessity of life … so … much like child birth, dentist drills and income tax I’ve chosen to banish the memory so that life can go on … at least for now. Needless to say I’m not looking forward to my next flight … and screw the free drink coupons … next time I want a Southwest Valium before take off!

I spent last Saturday relaxing in Redding on Di’s couch and chatting with her and Ross. We played games and drank hot chocolate and ate way too much edamame (however you spell that) and before I knew it, it was time to drive home. It was a nice relaxing day with good friends and a gentle launch into the holidays. The drive was well worth the company.

On Sunday we had our first Elkies winterguard camp and an ab-fab time. I love camps as opposed to 3-hour rehearsals because there’s less pressure which means more time to be creative, more to laugh and bond and more time to let the natural learning and development process happen instead of force-feeding them stuff. We had fun finding the groove and the personality of the song as well as the performers. We managed to put together about a minute of the opening already and yet have several “tricks” up our sleeve to incorporate. Suddenly I find myself worried that the song is too short. A common freaky worry = no problem. There are two rehearsals to get through before the long Christmas break so we’ll probably add another minute or so at those. The challenge then will be for them to all still remember it when they come back in January. Fingers crossed.

The Elkies are repeating their Christmas concert this Friday for “the entire school OMG” … at least that’s how the message was relayed to me. The girls are pretty excited to have a chance to do it again and they understand that this is a terrific opportunity to recruit for the guard and grow their program …. well, and to sport their skin tight unitards in front of the football team … ahhh young love. Anyway, the two performances they did for their parents netted them a lot of parental tears, pats on the head and whispers of “you were so great”. That was the goal. Mission accomplished!

Last night I visited the incredible shrinking Stubert. Have I mentioned how proud I am of him!! We snatched bits of Terri’s baking projects as I gave him a bleach renewal, then we pondered winterguard music arrangements and finally settled down to watch some wg videos for inspiration in front of his really big, really big, REALLY big, Christmas tree. I left way too late and am paying the price today with the sandman sitting on the bridge of my nose.

Going to sleep tonight as early as possible.

zzzzzzzzz

.

Pause ...

This past weekend I donned my clinicians’ hat and made the 5 hour round-trip journey to Hollister to spend the afternoon with the kids from San Benito’s guard. I had a good time and I hope they did too. The rest of the weekend was about household puttering and nonsense. The only stand out event of my entire weekend may in fact be the stand out event of my entire month … year … decade????

So I’m driving down Highway 5 at about 10:30 Saturday morning and I’m on that part of the 5 between Sacramento and Galt where the highway narrows from three lanes to two. I’m in the fast lane as it merges with the center lane. Me and everyone else in my lane quickly outpaces the vehicles in the slow lane and in really short order I’m passing a semi truck. Just after I’ve passed it, it toots at me … not a menacing honk … just a short little toot. Automatically I look in my rear view and there’s this bright red, uncommonly shiny, in fact positively gleaming, semi truck. All I can see through the truck’s front windshield is the driver’s right palm giving me a friendly wave … everything else is dark. Hmmmm. I give it about 30 seconds of real thought as I speed down the road … the palm was pretty big so it must have been a man, maybe he felt like I cut him off, maybe he likes blondes, maybe he honks at all the blue cars, maybe he’s tooting at someone else, who knows … now back to my regularly scheduled brain chaos. 30 minutes down the road I’ve forgotten totally about the truck as I hit Stockton and decide to pull off at Hammer Lane and fill up the tank. It’s about 10 minutes later before I get back on the road again. I’ve driven about a mile or so, deep in thought about who knows what, when I hear that toot behind me again …. I check the rear view and, sure enough, it’s that same shiny red truck and that same palm waving at me. My first thought is how did I pass that truck without noticing it. It’s so incredibly shiny!

Now I’m a bit freaked out and start thinking about the opening scenes from many a scary movie. What are the chances of that shiny red truck remembering my little blue car from 30 minutes further north? What are the chances that the guy driving honks at all the blue cars? What are the chances that the guy honks at all the blondes? What are the chances that this person knows me???????????

Had it not been for the fact that I was running late I would have slowed down and taken the time to see who it was … is … were … whatever (which is exactly what all the dumb white girls in scary movies do and they all end up dead).

So, maybe I should be glad that I was pressed for time and had to put the pedal to the metal.

Or, maybe I should be remorseful that I’ll never hook up with that long lost cousin who was trying to flag me down.

Or maybe my guardian angel was just sending me a friendly hello … or detouring me from certain disaster … twice.

As it is now, all I can do is wonder about it … forever.

Whew!

So my good buddy Stu came through a risky, life-changing, event with flying colors this week despite a scary-for-him-and-for-all-of-us-not-there event. He’s a trooper that one and I’m really proud of the him for having a huge stainless steel set and taking this chance on a whole new existence. I would say he’s lucky, but the truth is that he genuinely deserves it and I couldn’t be more excited if it had happened to me.

Love you buddy .... and posting this photo is my way of encouraging you to get well so you can kick my ass.

XOXOXO

.

So much on the horizon ...

... and so much that's happened since I had a real chance to write it all down … so … from the not so fresh to the fresh ...

WBA CHAMPIONSHIPS WEEKEND

Saturday morning, 6am and it’s time to fly and I’m not excited about going at all. Rut roh. I’d been burning my candle at both ends all Fall and I was feeling like it had caught up with me just a couple of days too early. I was so prepared for this show that I kind of peaked too early in the season?!? Once I got on board the plane and saw Southwest’s “Spirit” magazine cover though my own spirits were seriously lifted. Southwest’s “Spirit” magazine this month (quarter?) has a sizeable article about BOA and marching band in it and reading it infused me with a sufficient amount of excitement and happiness for the upcoming weekend. (I stole the magazine off the plane so I could share it with the newbs later … hee).

The weekend went seamlessly. No delays. No missed rides. No stuck tapes. No dead batteries. An intact 100% accountability on the DVR. Fabulous for once! I did all of the 1A bands at prelims and had anticipated that being kind of a drag … surprise, surprise … I genuinely enjoyed them all. The sun was out, the air was crisp and the field vibe was fierce. I fed off the kid’s championship excitement. 13 bands total and it all went by really, really fast. Immediately afterwards I checked my phone for messages and had one from my over-excited newbs screaming at me that they “took 1st place at the parade!!”. Happy news. Later that day I found out the kids cracked an 81 at the field show that night. Hooray! I’m glad their season ended on a high note. I stayed and watched the rest of prelims with my very good friend Alton. That night over cocktails I not only caught up with friends and had a good time but also made a few good new connections that I hope will help further my goals in the land of judging.

I was happy that the only downer was at the tail end of the weekend when I had plenty of time to handle it – my flight home out of Burbank was cancelled due to fog and then my rebooked flight was delayed due to fog so I had about two extra hours at the airport to watch some lady use nursing her baby as an excuse for public nudity, see some stealth-lacking moron pick his nose and wipe his big ol’ booger under his seat, hear the woman next to me unapologetically loudly fart out a stink bomb … it was as indecorous and ill-mannered an environment as I could imagine any 3rd world country sporting and it brought to mind the saying “familiarity breeds contempt” … a big OH YEAH to that one. I also couldn't help but understand where Europeans get the idea that Americans are so lacking in intelligence and decorum. I'm sure "we" do these things in international airports too. Good grief. Where have manners gone anyway? I was relieved when they finally called the A group to board and thankful to have a drink coupon in my hand and an entire 3-row seat to myself. I must really be getting old and crotchety.

THANKSGIVING WEEKEND
I didn’t realize how I was missing family time until I had some this weekend. Time spent with family and friends made for a really nice Thanksgiving weekend and more than compensated for what was a stressful work week leading into the long weekend.

Went to the movies with the whole family and saw “The Mist” (which I’ve been dying to have made into a film for about ten years now … ever since I read Stephen King’s original story). Here’s an unqualified “Go see the movie” recommendation. It’s a very worthwhile two hours of entertainment. Nightmare inducing for kids though … well and maybe for you adults too!

I had a great time working off Thursday’s huge intake of really good food (made even better because I didn’t cook it) at Friday night’s first ever “Trifecta Colorguard” rehearsal. Afterwards a group of us hit Chevy’s and it was there that I finally let go of the stress of the work week and started looking forward to the long weekend.

Saturday morning it was rise and shine pretty early to go meet Trifecta again to decorate Stubert’s truck (which carried our music) and compete in Trifecta’s debut performance at the Downtown Sacramento Santa Parade. I have no idea how we placed but I had an ab-fab time with good friends. It reminded me of how joyful performing is for me and it felt like the start of a truly great yearly tradition …. Oh, and for the second year in a row …

I missed seeing Santa come to town >(


Saturday night I got a terrific email about my WBA judging efforts that quite simply made me giddy <$1 to Stu>. I guess I’m still floating on that cloud a little even today.

On Sunday I cooked our family Thanksgiving meal at home and we watched PPV movies together back to back …. it was a very good, high-relaxation, afternoon and evening.

I slept a lot this weekend. Pretty much fell out every time I sat down. Triptophane combined with my free-to-me-thanks-to-Stu couch and a case of the sniffles is a really dangerous combination but I feel really good today so I guess I must have needed it.

So now it’s onto the winterguard season. My calendar is already bulging like a teenager’s muffin top outta’ her jeans with judging gigs and teaching commitments. Teaching wise I currently have a winterguard to teach, another one that Stu and I may work on together and a clinic to do. Judging wise I have 13 confirmed assignments with a possible 2-5 more yet to come … AND I’m excited to have been invited to be part of the new Bakersfield WGI circuit getting started this year. I have two fly-to assignments there as well.

First on my list of priorities is to put together a short Christmas concert piece for my Elkies. My mood says it’ll be something pretty and emotional that befits the holiday season … something with swing flags … a piece they can really knock out of the park for their parents. I like doing these concerts because they always get me in a holiday mood and, they have the added benefit of getting the kid’s bonded and confident before we really get invested in our winterguard season.

Similar to my plans for the kids Christmas concert, our winterguard show is going to be “interesting” and something with which they can hit a homerun … and by that I don’t necessarily mean “win” … it’ll be a homerun if it builds the kid’s skills, makes them better performers and makes the guard attractive to other kids making them want to join … all of that ultimately culminating in a bigger, stronger, and more importantly, sustainable program. Never mind the sheets, the scores, the judges or the parents for now. It’s all about the kids and the learning process. So we’re using Blue October’s “Into the Ocean” and, if the fates allow, we’ll have about 20 feet of really cool painted back drops and even be “underwater” at one point. Cross your fingers.

Hasta la Pasta

.

Gobble ... Gobble ... Gobble

Find the turkey in this photo ...





Hint -- (he's on the left)



HAVE A HAPPY TURKEY DAY !!!!!

.

"It's the Great Adventures of me ......."

Southwest Airlines recently introduced their new passenger boarding protocol that, in my opinion, ranks right up there with the introduction of the in flight cocktail. I love it! Yesterday, as I was making my flight arrangements for an upcoming trip to Phoenix, I was loudly singing the praises of Southwest Airlines when my friend in the next cubicle asked me if I’d ever heard of PSA ………… a nanosecond of thought later and I sang him the “PSA gives you a lift” jingle from my childhood. Like a crumb in a back tooth that tidbit of jingle was lodged somewhere in a dark and untapped recess of my brain but I pulled it outta’ there as easily as Wart pulled the sword from the stone. Wow! Funny because lately I can try to think of an ordinary word and not come up with it until three days later. The brain is a mysterious organ. Far more mysterious than that other organ the average male thinks is so terribly fascinating and irresistible … but I digress. Me singing this jingle got our entire group started down memory lane and recalling loads of other jingles from our 60’s and 70’s childhoods. Once we’d exhausted our mutually memorable commercial jingles we moved onto our cartoon memories and I started talking about Tom Terrific … and was met with blank stares. I’m shocked and appalled! How is this possible? How can you not remember “it’s the great adventures of me, Tom Terrific, with Mighty Manfred the Wonder Dog”? Now my listener’s eyes narrow with suspicion and I’m teased about making this one up. “Not so” say I, “he was a regular cartoon segment on Captain Kangaroo”. A twinkle of recognition now as everyone remembers the Captain and Mr. Green Jeans, Mr. Moose and Bunny Rabbit … but sadly not “Tom Terrific”. Well thank God for the wonders of the internet cuz one small email link later and everyone is “oh yeah, I remember him”. Harumph! See I told you so. Victory is mine. In flight cocktails and new boarding protocol, as much as I adore them, still take a backseat to being right … but alas, victory was short lived as the conversation moved speedily on to theme songs from 1960’s television shows. I surprised myself by pulling the entire theme song from “Family Affair” out of my aging brain like a rabbit out of a hat.

And rabbits and hats remind me of “Bullwinkle” …

Bullwinkle: “watch me pull a rabbit out of a hat”
Rocky: “again”
Bullwinkle: “just button up my sleeve …presto” (as he pulls out a roaring lion’s head)
Bullwinkle: “oops wrong hat”

I now visualize my future self merrily singing the tune from “Rocky and Bullwinkle” while my grandkids, whose names I won’t be able to remember, visit me in the old folks home.

Dadut dadadadadut dadadadadadadadada dada dadut

.

Just another day at work …

1. Office air conditioning only works well when it’s positively icelandic outside

2. We always refer to people as “back” when they return from somewhere but never as “front” when they go somewhere?

3. That which doesn’t kill us not only makes us stronger … it also makes us bitter.

4. Anytime you migrate your company’s data to a new platform count on a handful of employees falling off the edge of said platform on “Go Live” day.

5. If the cup you’re taking out of your workplace’s kitchen cupboard didn’t get transported there directly by you or does not bear the company logo on it signifying it’s for anyone’s use then … PUT IT DOWN … IT’S NOT YOURS … and back away slowly so as not to compel someone to hunt you down and beat your forehead in with a keyboard in the process of reclaiming their PERSONAL FREAKIN’ COFFEE CUP!















TGIF

In the category of ...

In the category of "life-affirming, exciting, truly good news" ...
Kevin had his 26th birthday this past weekend and surprised everyone at his birthday party by asking his girlfriend to marry him. Hooray! I'm excited for them both. They've been talking about it for the last three years and now they've finally done it. They're thinking the big day will be in either May or at the end of August. Guess which date I'm pulling for?

In the category of "it's all good" ...
I'm appreciating the change in seasons and, this year, appreciating not having to walk through them to catch a bus. It's the little things that make life good ya' know?

This past weekend, and again last night, I spent some time catching up with friends who make me feel good.

Chris is moving forward ... dating a new girl,looking for a "real" job and slowly but surely searching his way through this obstacle course called life. He's way too much like his mother.

The marching season is coming to a close already and, for once, I wish it were just a smidge longer so my kids would have a chance to crack an 80. But no, it's onto winterguard season. Time waits for no man ... or colorguard. I'm still in a muddle over winter music and desperately need something to stir my imagination. Maybe I'll find some inspiration this weekend at the Merced show ... or in that box of White Zin in my fridge. Either way ..... it'll be okay.

In the category of "sometimes I wish I had a camera phone" ...
The guy in the cubicle across from me has this (yes it sounds crazy) large, black, plastic, vicious looking, psuedo-saliva dripping dog that he had out as a Halloween decoration. The thing is about 3' long and and foot and a half high. Just about like a real size dog and it scares the crap out of people when they turn the corner. Now, thanks to the small white stuffed dog (wearing the Christmas stocking cap), jammed in its mouth it's now a Christmas decoration. Egads! Now I have to look at that thing everyday til Christmas. What a life I have.


In the category of tragic
Today I found out Paul Siebert(someone I marched with and a PhD in microbiology) died of a brain aneurysm sometime over this past weekend. That's Paul in the picture, third from the right. Very, very sad indeed. What I remember most about Paul is how much older he seemed than the rest of us. Always more tolerant, more focused, more clear-headed and just plain mature beyond his years. He was someone whose example I tried to follow and whose good opinion always mattered to me. I know he'll be missed.


In the category of "wrap it up already" ...
All is well

But all is weird

I find myself preparing but I don't know exactly what for

It feels like life is about to turn another corner


.

Happy Halloween !

mwuhahahahahhaha

A reason to make noise ...

I just got the "official" email ...

I'm confirmed for the panel
at WBA prelims in Pasadena.

Hooray!

It's Halloween Week ...

... so here's something REALLY FRIGHTENING for your Halloween week enjoyment!

.

Weekend in review ...

I had a kick ass weekend that kicked my ass. This was the first weekend in a quite long series of weekends that I didn’t have a judging gig which means that I got to see my kids perform on Saturday.


Ok …

They were awful …

They were great …

They made me cringe …

They made me jump and down and clap

I’m so proud of them that I plan on working their tails off this coming week in preparation for the show at the Grape Bowl next Saturday … which I will miss because I’ll be off judging somewhere else once again ... but it’s a wonderful problem to have and I'm not complaining ... and there's the added bonus of cocktails with a Rene-friend afterwards.

See you on the other side :)

.

Kid Lessons with Adult Translations ...

I can’t help but wonder if it’s not the earliest lessons … those learned before we have reason, logic and common sense on our side … that stick with us most.

For example ...

September 1962 ... the first day of kindergarten. I instantly fall in love my teacher ... Miss Detty. I love the kid-sized kitchen and the big wooden blocks, the neatly stacked puzzles, the cups of fresh (and really pointy) crayons and all the wee tables and chairs. We colored pictures of Jack-O-Lanterns that day. I colored mine purple. I’d never heard of a Jack-O-Lantern. Everyone laughed at me. We watched a filmstrip about sea lions and then had a duck and cover lesson. The smell of the heavy rubber curtain is oddly pleasant. The end of the day is story time. We’re all seated expectantly on the floor in front of our teacher. I have to pee really bad but I just can’t raise my hand and bring myself to ask to go the girl’s room in front of the entire class. So, under the cover provided by my highly starched 1950’s puffy dress, I pee right there where I’m sitting. The story ends. The school day ends. I get up, walk away from my piddle puddle none the worse for wear and, fortunately, unnoticed and meet my mother outside to walk home. She asks me about my day and I tell her everything in detail ... except for the part about my puddle.

Kid lesson … if I don’t get caught then I haven’t done anything wrong.

Adult translation … I can speed down the freeway and it’s okay so long as I don’t get a ticket.

September 1962 … still kindergarten …everyday my mom gives me a nickel to put in my shoe for me to give to Miss Detty because she collects our nickels and places a milk order with the school cafeteria for delivery to us to go with our afternoon "snack". The best thing about milk in the afternoon is the little milk wagon we use to pick up the delivery. Two “good” students are chosen every day for this task. The lucky kids get to leave the classroom and pull the little milk wagon all the way to the cafeteria where they get to fill it up with milk cartons and bring it back for the class. I get to do that a couple of times during the year but not as much as I’d like because being “good” means not talking and that’s really hard for me. The second best thing about milk in the afternoon is the small wooden container with a shiny glass front that's chock full of red striped straws and if you press the little wooden handle on the side a single straw drops out just for you and you get to put it in your milk carton. Mesmerizing. One morning at recess I'm at the tippy top of the jungle gym and my nickel falls out of my shoe and all the way down to the tanbark far, far below. I scramble down to find it but it’s hopeless. The bell rings and I forget all about it as I run to get back in line and go inside. Later that afternoon the little milk wagon arrives and,without thinking, I take a milk and drink it just like every other day. Then ... Uh oh. Someone who paid for their milk didn’t get one. Someone took milk that shouldn’t have. Someone took milk without paying for it. I realize with horror that it’s ME. I’m mortified. I begin to cry. I cry so hard I can’t explain what happened. I cry so much Miss Detty has to call my mom to come and pick me up early.

Kid lesson … perfection guarantees to save you embarrassment and big girls don’t cry.

Adult translation … be ridiculously hard on yourself, strive for perfection so you can do everything right all the time no matter what … and never, never let them see your moment of weakness.

October 1963 … first grade, first month of school, and somehow (probably because I was talking to my neighbor as usual) I don’t hear the lesson being given, and as a result, I confuse the word “red” with the word “blue”. A mimeographed ditto is handed out. On it are four chubby airplanes sporting smiley faces. Two of them have the word “blue” written under them and two of them have the word “red” written under them. Color appropriately. I color all my “blue” airplanes red and all my “red” airplanes blue. The teacher (whose name I don’t remember because I never felt like she was on my side) is sitting at the big “reading table” at the side of the room. She tells everyone to make a line around her table and bring their papers to her. One by one we hand her our papers. Some kids get them all correct and get a big red star written on their papers. Some kids only get some of them right (and I still wonder about those kids really) and get a big red “OK” on their paper. I give her my paper fully expecting a big red star and instead I get a big red “F”. Ummm uh oh. Everyone stares at me. None of us knows what this means until the teacher loudly explains that it’s because I got all of mine wrong. The teacher doesn’t explain anything to me, she simply thrusts my paper at my chest and tells me to “go home and study”. So that’s what I do. At 10:00 in the morning I take my sweater, my beloved plaid lunch box and my big red “F” and make the two block walk home alone ... where the realization of a new problem promptly confronts me ... I’m not allowed to cross the street! I stand there in front of the “rest home” that’s directly across the street from my apartment house willing my mother to come out ... of course she doesn't ... I'm not supposed to be there for another four hours. Because I'm totally afraid to break the rule about crossing the street, the events of the morning finally get to me and I start to cry. The old people in the rest home must have been watching me for awhile. Finally one blue-haired old lady came out to where I was standing on the sidewalk. Somehow I tearfully communicated my problem to her and she took my lunchbox in one hand and my hand in the other and walked me across the street right up to my front door. Let’s just say my Dad (who wondered how a small six year old girl could be allowed to just walk out of school unnoticed) and the principal, Mr. Phillips, came to know each other pretty well that day. That the principal never forgot my name and never forgot to ask if I was doing okay whenever he saw me after that. In fact, later that year when that same teacher sent me home for wearing pants to school on a very cold day (back in the days when girls weren't allowed to wear pants ever), it was Mr. Phillips who drove me home and explained it all to my mother. Fortune smiled on me halfway through the school year and that teacher ended up getting really sick and leaving school for the rest of the year and we got a brand new teacher named Miss Purse … and I loved her dearly. It’s because of her that I not only became a reading superstar but learned about “bundles of ten” and “borrowing and carrying”. Despite my adamant self-imposed rule never to cry at school again ... I did anyway ... on the last day of school when I had to say good bye to Miss Purse.

Kid lesson … most adults “in charge” are good people but some just aren't … and some people hurt your feelings ... and sometimes they'll do it on purpose ... and it's possible to love adults that aren't in your family

Adult translation … always question authority, value relationships but above all protect your heart

And I still have those airplanes with the big red “F” on them in my scrapbook.

.

Official “Unhappy Blog” Alert …

... avert your eyes while you still have a chance


Well ……… the Ayala show stole the wind from my sails. There are some substantial and rational explanations for this but mainly (although note, not exclusively) it’s just me doing that thing I do and being ridiculously hard on myself. Ah well. It hurts for a bit but it always makes me better in the end.

The night was cold and damp and I guess that’s what made my tape recorders (yes plural … recorders) choke (unbeknownst to me) which means that Chino got a completely blank tape and that ALL of my back ups and accountability are defunct. I actually think I did a pretty good job but no one will ever know that because my accountability tapes are crap. Sadly you can hear the intro to each band “Hi this is my accountability for _____” and then the tape drags and you hear the next “Hi this is my accountability for _____”. Nothing in between the greetings but alien blips and bloops. I recouped as best I could by turning in a total written accountability and now I’m just crossing my fingers and hoping that will be good enough. I hate being forced into doing something out of the norm from what everyone else is doing but I especially hate it when I’m already the one already wearing Milk Bone underwear in a dog eat dog world. Other than that written accountability, all I have to speak for my own performance Saturday are my numbers and my rankings. Sigh. I want to slit my wrists but, after all, it’s just marching band … and I’m not brave enough to anyway. My vow this week is to figure out, once and for all, how to use that dastardly little digital voice recorder I bought so this never happens again. In the meantime I have to content myself with my written accountability being safely tucked in an overnight envelope and sitting somewhere in a courier van winding it’s merry way to its destination in Walnut Creek.

Note to self
I hate electronic technology. Perhaps this is why I’ve never owned a vibrator. I mean really isn’t that the last place I want to trust something electronic?

My Elkies performed on Saturday night at the Oakmont show and I’m sorry I wasn’t there. Based on what I’ve heard so far, it didn’t go very well … well hell that’s not accurate … sans the candy coating, from what I’ve heard it was actually genuinely awful. I don’t know the particulars yet but I find myself not even wanting to go to rehearsal tonight to find them out. Damn! I knew the opener would be a mess … no big surprise there … but I really expected the middle of the closer to be the guard’s saving grace. Sigh. I need to go kick this problem, whatever it turns out to be, squarely in the ass at tonight’s rehearsal. Period.

Note to self
This weekend holds an important lesson …. as incredibly and truly hideous as some of the performances were that I witnessed at the Ayala show, I still have to doff my hat to those programs and the effort I saw on the field exactly because I know, first hand, how nearly impossible it is to teach a field show in the brief 6 weeks between the first day of school and the first performance of the season. Congrats to all those bands I saw on Saturday who pulled it off … whose shows, although mostly a hot mess, made it to the field in some semblance of a real performance.


So ….. today’s tentative plan is to whine pitifully and feel sorry for myself until 5:00 pm at which point I will officially get over myself, lick my right index finger and hold it up in the air in search of a breeze. Thus I will find the wind I need to fill my sails before 6:00 tonight.


.

Anxiously awaiting my next fix ...

Last Saturday I judged field visual for the first time ever at my first ever WBA contest. Judging has its obvious rewards but field judging has one I never counted on … until I felt it.

Saturday night the temperature dropped 20 degrees in two hours but I was nervous … well, ok scared … and my adrenalin was pushing so hard that it kept me warm. So warm in fact that I didn’t even need a jacket. As the first band came to the field I walked out to the front side line, tape recorder in hand, desperately hoping I at least looked like I knew what I was doing. I noted that I had that pre-performance queasy stomach that is just my body’s way of letting me know that “we” are about to put our butt on the line again. Thanks body. I knew you’d kick in sooner or later and remind me that judging is, after all, just another kind of performance. So I began to breathe in through the nose and out through the mouth, filling my red blood cells with oxygen and calming myself down. I "fell back on my training" and did a little self-talk. Ok self. We’re alright now. We know how to do this. We’re prepared. We practiced. We deserve it. Here we go. Feeling ready I walked about 8 steps down the 40 and onto the field and was struck by how familiar everything felt. No longer nervous because it felt almost like a welcome home, I noticed that the grass was green, the lights were on, the air was cool on my skin and that there were uniforms all around me. Right then the drumline started that all too familiar warm up and that sound, in what I can only explain as a conditioned stimulus response, made me turn toward the bleachers to see the audience. Huge and wonderful. I looked around to see who else saw them and was thrilled to see that most of the guard was looking up and already making that first connection. Right on! As the band found its opening set I was suddenly surrounded by a flurry of guardies hurriedly setting their equipment and hugging one another for good luck and I got a stab not of longing but of BElonging.

I didn’t know that being on the field during a performance while not performing could be something so special. I’ve watched field shows for years, I’ve been in field shows and I’ve been up close and personal with performers during rehearsals. None of that began to touch the intensity and almost perverse intimacy of “watching” a performance from its middle as it happened on the field. The energy was like a living thing with depth, width and weight. Being in the thick of the show gave me the freedom to hear the sounds, experience the energy, feel the pulse and rhythm of the show and to be anywhere I wanted to be … I was a tuba, a flag, a snare, I “marched” alongside the flutes, the bass drums and the mellophones. I saw the gathering condensation on the flagpoles still waiting to make their debut, saw the taped fingers, the sweat and the intense facial expressions of the snare line, saw the bandaged ankles and straining muscles of the colorguard and heard everyone gasping for air … for this a sound on the field too … and I immediately appreciated this activity on a whole different level. I’ll never be happy at a field show in the stands or the box again ….. and I find I’m supremely jealous of those who’ve experienced this rush at its most highly competitive level for that must truly be the ultimate marching high.

I’ve never felt what I felt on Saturday as a performer. I don’t know that it’s possible to do so but as an on-field observer, I get it …I so get it … and I can’t wait to get it again.

.

a) sobering, b) surreal or c) all of the above ...

So earlier today, and just for the heck of it, I googled myself and lo and behold found my name on a blog belonging to a local colorguard kid ... and a couple of things changed forever.

1) It brought home to me how much influence, and therefore responsibility, I have as an adjudicator. It's not as though I didn't realize that on some level and it's not as though I don't always take my audience into account. I'm fully aware of who I'm talking to and I try to put my commentary together in a logical and educational way ... but today when I read "a 90 from Jojo and I can now die happy" it made me appreciate the immature and fragile feelings of these high school kids and I will carry my new-found appreciation with me into the judge's box forever more.

2) I've removed my current name and my colorguard "moniker" from my blog because there's no back-flow device in place and information that flows one way can surely flow the other. I don't want these kids knowing anything about me other than what they see when they look up into the judge's box.

I feel like I've been slapped ... and I'm thankful for it.

.

All the leaves are brown ....

... and the sky is gray <$1 to Mama Cass>

I love Fall … leaves are turning, the air is showing it’s first signs of crispness and my desire to hibernate is increasing.

As is now typical of my Fall seasons, colorguard has consumed most of my free time over the last few weeks. The rest of my world has been a typical washing machine of events …colors have faded, reds have bled and socks are missing and as usual life is it’s own blend of peace and bedlam.

September 22 I spent the day with Golden Valley. What can I say about Golden Valley? Up close they are your typical high school girls; a mixture of chipped neon nail polish, rainbow colored barrettes and too small t-shirts … but on the move they are incredible. I was totally impressed with this guard. They’re disciplined, skilled and intent on becoming the best they can be. They were like a herd of hamsters scurrying to greedily scoop up and store every crumb I put out there for them. I loved working with them and I’d like to think I made a difference. I hope so anyway and I hope I get to do it again someday.

September 29th was the first band review of NCBA’s 07 season and I was there with my Elkies. I’ve done a fair amount of nail biting over this review. Zero run-throughs with the band and limited performer skills were the foremost reason for that. Then on Friday night, in the last hour of the last rehearsal and, in what felt like a suicidal move, I made the critical decision NOT to wrap the guard around the band at this review. Understandably, I prepared myself for the worst score in civilized man’s history but comforted myself with the knowledge that at least we’d be putting our best foot forward … no pun intended. Well, I don’t know who those kids on the street in those Elk Grove guard uniforms were but they did a bang up job. The score was middle of the pack and a pathetic 68 and I sincerely don’t care. Given that we basically did half a performance it’s a fair number that comes as no surprise … what WAS a surprise, and an especially good one at that, was the quality of the kid’s performance. It was eye opening and it’s given me a whole new perspective on the potential of this program over time. I love who I’m working with, I love who I’m working for and I’m stoked for TOC … and next year.

I watched a number of bands after the Elkies performance. As an adjudicator for (and often a loud defender of) NCBA I find myself in a pickle for I’m embarrassed by the auxiliary adjudicators placements and scores for Armijo and Golden Valley that day. I’ve wrestled with this since Saturday and almost a week later I’m still certain that had I been in the box that day I wouldn’t, couldn’t, have seen it the way they did. The tough thing is there’s no way that I can say anything about it. It’s not my job to do so. It’s a lot like being a marching member in that it’s my responsibility to just put my head down and do my own job and trust that those around me are doing the same. I wish (oh how I wish) there was an education director or caption manager, or some other position within NCBA that monitored the adjudication process. The tough thing is that I really think they were wrong and I’m right. Either my ego is out of control (and yeah it happens all the time) or they don’t understand the parade art form, the parade criteria and how to really apply it. The next review and the next set of adjudicators will likely write the end of that story. We’ll see.

So this weekend I am butt cheeks to the wind at my first WBA assignment. Here’s to hoping this little minnow can successfully swim in a bigger pond and that some veteran shark doesn’t come up behind me and bite me in the ass in the same way I’ve just done to last weekend’s band review adjudicators!!!

I’d certainly deserve it though if they do ... but I hope they only do it in their blog like I just did ... heh.


.

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


.

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.

.

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.

.

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!

.

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>

.

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!

.