For Col and Cris

Can either of you answer the question: How the hell did we even KNOW this song? "That girl can sure enough make my little light shine"?!?

Eyes that look like heaven, lips like sherry wine
That girl can sure enough make my little light shine
I get a funny feelin' up and down my spine
'Cause I know that my Elvira's mine

So I'm singin'
Elvira, Elvira
My heart's on fire Elvira
Giddy Up Oom Poppa Omm Poppa Mow Mow
Giddy Up Oom Poppa Omm Poppa Mow Mow
Heigh-ho Silver, away

Tonight I'm gonna meet her at the Hungry House Cafe
And I'm gonna give her all the love I can
She's gonna jump and holler 'cause I saved up my last two dollars
We're gonna search and find that preacher man

Now I'm a singin'
Elvira, Elvira
My heart's on fire Elvira
Giddy Up Oom Poppa Omm Poppa Mow Mow
Giddy Up Oom Poppa Omm Poppa Mow Mow
Heigh-ho Silver, away

Musical connections

I'm sure we all have them -- bands or songs that remind us of certain times or people. Here are some of mine:
* Anything by the Beatles and early R.E.M: Hanging out in the Long brothers' garage in high school. God, we had a lot of fun in that garage, even in the dead of winter.
* Billy Bragg: My dad, who liked to sing along with him while we played pool. We eventually took my dad to see Billy in concert in Chicago. He liked the show, but I don't think he knew what to make of Robyn Hitchcock, who was the opening act.
* Robyn Hitchcock: Playing cards in between classes at IU with Amy.
* "See a Little Light" by Bob Mould: My first boyfriend, who was a big fan. I later went to see Bob Mould at the Aragon in Chicago. Worst.acoustics.ever.
* Dashboard Confessional: MattE. We went to see Dashboard together and we were about 15 years older than anyone else there.
* Depeche Mode: My grandma, who asked when she found out I was going to see them in concert: "Why would you want to see a band named Douche Mode?"
* "Roll to Me" by Del Amitri: Sitting in Barb's dorm room at IU.
* "Lips Like Sugar" by Echo & the Bunnymen and the album "Achtung Baby" by U2: Dan, the second person with that name I dated. I think I'll avoid that name in the future.
* Ellis Paul: John Wesley Harding, who had Ellis open for him once at Schubas. A fan is born.
* John Wesley Harding: So many great shows with so many great friends at Schubas. I could go on and on. But if you know me, you know I love my Wes.
* "Allison" by Elvis Costello: Marge singing along with Phil Angotti at Shannon's Landing. Somehow she made "My aim is true" turn into "My name is Trudy."
* "100 Years" and "The Riddle" and pretty much everything else by Five for Fighting: Ash, in my car, singing. Actually, you can include pretty much every song on the radio or any CDs in my car, and this would remind me of Ash. That boy sings along to everything. At all times. He knows every song ever written and it's kind of scary.
* "Lukey" by Great Big Sea: Rich put this song on a mix tape (yes, a TAPE) for me once. A fan of Great Big Sea is born.
* "Galileo" by Indigo Girls: Hanging out at Ricciardi's. This song was nearly always on my juke box playlist.
* "I Hope You Dance" by Lee Ann Womack: I was sitting on the lawn at the Capitol in D.C. for Memorial Day and she sang this song accompanied by video of U.S. troops. It made me cry, but in a good way.
* "Stairway to Heaven" by Led Zeppelin: Eighth-grade dance at the American Legion.
* "Your Wildest Dreams" by Moody Blues: Again, Ricciardi's. This was a favorite of Clark's and it became a favorite of mine.
* Paul Simon's album "Negotiations and Love Songs: My dad singing along to "Me and Julio Down by the Schoolyard" and my mom demanding I make her a Paul Simon tape to listen to while walking. She wanted "Kodachrome" to be every third song.
* "In Your Eyes" by Peter Gabriel: Love and lost love.
* "I Love Rock n Roll" by Joan Jett & the Blackhearts: Me and Jeannie putting together our own little show to this song in grade school.
* "Not Fade Away" by the Rolling Stones: See Moody Blues entry above. That Clark has some good taste in music.
* "Darling Nikki" by Prince: When you're in grade school and you hear this, it's downright revolutionary.
* "Angel" by Sarah McLaughlin and "Shimmer" by Shawn Mullins: My dad. It seemed every time I was about to pull into the parking lot at Community to visit him, I would hear these songs.
* Tracy Chapman: My sister. First time I remember hearing Tracy Chapman was when I visited Col at IU.
* Van Morrison: Mansfield singing.

OK. I've belatedly realized that I could continue this list ... forever. It's your turn ... Show me some blog love here, people. Give me a song or a band and tell me what it reminds you of.

An open apology to Barack Obama

Sorry, Barack. I did not attend your rally in Downtown Indianapolis on Thursday. I know you missed seeing me there. After all, you've seen me in Plainfield, Anderson, Evansville and three other times in Indy. I won't bore you with the reasons why I didn't make it this time -- I know you're very busy. But please, please come back before Election Day. Would ya? Could ya?

On the soapbox

They had run out of "I voted" stickers at the county building where I went to cast my ballot, so here is my own virtual version. If you do nothing else this year, please go vote. It took me all of five minutes to cast my ballot. Five minutes. Personally, I'm hoping my vote in those five minutes will help change the course of history. Obviously, I want my candidate to win. But do what is right for you. Think about which candidate is best for your future, the futures of your children, your grandchildren, your parents, your grandparents -- and for the future of your country. Think of all the places in the world where citizens don't have the rights we do.
In my book, if you don't vote you have lost your right to complain.

Just a thought

When someone's grandmother is dying, it's sickening to hear the chattering classes talking about the possible "political costs" of leaving the campaign trail.
Grow a heart, people.

My mom and aunt - acting like frat boys

So, I had some major dental work done this morning. Long story, but it was the kind of dental work that required me to sign paperwork swearing I'd have a ride to and from the appointment because of the happy pills they'd prescribed me. My mom and my aunt (the senior citizen version of Thelma & Louise) dutifully drove a couple hours to my place so they could accompany me. They did the same thing for me a couple of months ago, so I figured I could trust them.
Now, last time I had this kind of work done, my car had just been broken into and I needed to get to the collision center the day of the dental appointment to sign paperwork authorizing the place to start the repairs. My mom and my aunt drove me there after the dental hell and when I was in a full drug haze. Afterward, I had no memory of signing any paperwork or talking to the guy at the shop about what needed to be fixed on my car. I had no memory of being driven from the car repair place in Downtown Indy back up to Carmel. I had no memory of laying down and falling asleep. I had no memory of my cousin, who lives nearby, stopping by my apartment with his son. Pretty much everything that happened that day was ... well, like it never happened.
This time, though, I had proof -- in writing -- that Thelma & Louise had been here. After driving me home and depositing me on my couch, they laid in wait for me to fall asleep. And then one of them (and I'm holding them BOTH responsible) took a Sharpie and wrote on my forehead: KO, GO BEARS! I discovered their handiwork a few hours after they had left. Thankfully, they either couldn't find my camera or didn't know how to work it because there is no photographic evidence.
So to everyone out there: If you see these two ladies, you may think they are harmless, angelic senior citizens. I am here to tell you they are a menace to society.
Now that they are safely back at home I am going to take another pain pill and lay down on the couch without fear.

Me on the campaign trail

I'm no "Joe the plumber," but I've seen my share of rope lines this campaign season. Once I get all my campaign trail photos in order, I'll post more ... but here's one from Obama's recent rally in Indy. The credit for this photo goes to my friend Zbigniew Bzdak at The Chicago Tribune, who is always kind enough to spot me in the crowd and snap a photo at *just* the right moment.

A shout-out to all the parents out there

Reason No. 27 why I would make a horrible parent: I couldn't take care of a kid when I'm sick.

I'm sick right now -- not death bed sick, but sick enough to be moderately miserable. I want to stay in bed and have everything I need within my reach: Nyquil, Kleenex, cough drops and a remote control for when I slip out of the Nyquil-induced coma. I want to stay in my T-shirt and sweats and maybe forgo showering for a couple of days. I want to screen my phone calls.
How do you do all of this when you're a parent? You don't, I guess. You suck it up and do what needs to be done, trying to forget that you're miserable.

I guess I should be happy that my eggs are probably old and dried up and incapable of producing a smaller version of myself. As for you parents out there, I raise my measuring cup of Nyquil and toast to you.

Leavin' on a jet plane ... in a couple months

Well, I've hit the "Purchase this itinerary" button, so it's official. I've got a trip planned to D.C. and I've timed it, conveniently, to coincide with Inauguration Day. (Thank you, BT, for the brilliant idea.) Here's hoping I'm not responsible for the biggest jinx of all jinxes. If this goes as I'm hoping it will, I'll be there in person to witness history. If it doesn't, I'll cry in my beer with my D.C. friends, visit the Newseum and trek over to the Capitol (away from the reason I'm crying in my beer) and see if the underground visitors center has FINALLY opened.
(P.S. to Col: Hold your fire.)

Notes on a name

Kathleen Bridget Claire O'(redacted for "privacy")

As the story goes, I was supposed to be Bridget Kathleen. That is what my mom wanted, but my dad apparently won the naming war. I guess if I would have been Bridget Kathleen, the typo in my senior yearbook would have made my name Bridget Athleen, rather than Kathleen Ridget.
Now let's get to Claire, my confirmation name. If you know me, Claire just doesn't seem to fit. Please allow me to explain. Before confirmation, we had to write a paper explaining why we had chosen our name. I found a St. Clare and a St. Claire. Now St. Clare was saintly, apparently, from birth. St. Claire, however, didn't turn saintly until she was 33. Easy choice. I figured choosing St. Claire would give me the freedom of screwing up for another 20 years. A pretty forward-thinking plan for an eighth-grader, I think. (Odd thing is, I just Googled St. Claire and came up empty. Guess my eighth-grade research was a little flawed.)
O' -- I love my last name, I really do. But unless you've lived with an apostrophe in your last name, you can't understand what trouble that little ' can cause. My God, we can put a man on the moon, but we can't figure out how to make computers -- and I mean ALL computers -- deal with a freakin' apostrophe. Try ordering most anything online with an apostrophe in your last name and you get a pesky note that no "special characters" are allowed. But if I go to CVS to pick up a prescription, they can't find me in the computer unless they enter the apostrophe. I'll look at it this way ... having that apostrophe is my little cross to bear in life -- maybe not good enough to make me as saintly as St. Clare, but, c'mon, close enough. Right?

Just give me a plate of pasta and I'll be happy

Spinach.
Asparagus (when it's prepared *just* right).
Artichoke hearts.
(Pausing to think here.)
(Still thinking.)
Yup. That's all I can come up with in the "foods I grew to like after hating them as a kid" category.
Don't most people grow to like far more than three things that they didn't like as a kid?
* I still don't like mushrooms. They are slimy and I can smell them from a mile away. Please don't try to hide them from me. I will find them and I will curse you.
* I don't eat anything that lives in the water. I haven't since the fourth grade -- with the exception of some calamari I felt I *had* to eat at a wedding reception in Sicily when I was 17. I think this one always gave my mom fits on Fridays during Lent.
* Please don't ruin polish sausage by throwing sauerkraut on top of it.
* Cantaloupe. I think this is just a smell thing.
* Anything more spicy than not really spicy at all. I'm a wimp.
* Brussels sprouts. Sorry. I just don't like the 's' on the end of "brussels." And they just look ... funny.
* Potato salad, chicken salad, antipasto salad, cole slaw and all the rest of that nonsense. Just give me a plain ole tossed salad, please.
I could go on for days.
What can I say? I guess I just don't have the most sophisticated palette around. But I'm perfectly happy liking what I like and avoiding the things I don't. My chances of traveling the world with Anthony Bourdain just sank considerably lower. That, I have to say, is the only downside.

Heartbreak ('Nuff said)

Just a note to say ...

... That I've temporarily fallen off the face of the blogger earth -- and don't think I'm not feeling guilty about it. Could it be that I've run out of things to say? Maybe. But I doubt it. Have I fallen victim to TiVo mania, leaving me no time to post anything? Maybe. A little. Mostly, though, I blame the presidential race, the bailout plan, the Cubs and lack of sleep.
Fear not, the guilt will get to me ... I shall return.