Top 10 Things I Miss (and Don't Miss) About Tennessee

Top 10 Misses

• family
• autumn
• land/fields/meadows
• rippy's on dempseys nights
• quiet nights with crickets & stars
• the lush green landscape
• thunderstorms
• free parking
• that small town feel

Top 10 Don't Misses

• the nasty, nasty humidity
• tornadoes
• winter/ice/road & school closings
• the band guy smiles (or lack thereof) and hairstyles
• chain restaurants/lack of ethnic cuisine
• bugs everywhere, all the time
• cookie cutter subdivisions/lack of architecture
• close-mindedness/judgement
• seven hour drive to ocean
• that small town feel

Fly Southwest, Everyone Else Is Doing It

You know you're flying into LAX when Diane Lane, her husband Josh Brolin, an Al Pacino + Robert De Niro look alike and an ex-con who was actually on a plane to Alcatraz when Bobby Kennedy had the place shut down in 1963 are all on board your humble little Southwest Boeing 737. 

Living in California has completely tired me from airline travel.  Who wants to take an entire day hopping planes and then dodging traffic?  Not me.  It gets even better when you hit delays on your layovers.  Especially the Vegas airport.  It's rather boring with the exception of the Wild Cherry slot machines.  That is until an ex-con turned historic newspaper collector sits down to chat with you.

It all began with small talk about weekend gambling.  I was halfway tuned out so I'm not sure what all was discussed.  Once the conversation turned to American historical newspaper collecting, my ears perked up.  Apparently this guy had original newspapers from the 1700's...from the day George Washington died...Custer's last stand...or even Jesse James' adventures (the outlaw, not the chopper dude).  He even supposedly had an original signed copy of the Declaration of Independence framed...under his bed.

I was very intrigued with all of this history talk, as I love to hear all of our country's stories.  We began asking him several different things...whether or not he had newspapers of slavery or battles of the Civil War...whether he had things on the Wild West or Alcatraz...

When I asked about Alcatraz (as our visit earlier this year still intrigues me), he stopped short.  He then went on to tell us how "back when he was a kid" he did some bad things...some "minor" things that caused him to serve some prison time.  And how he was eventually transferred from federal penitentiary to federal penitentiary, each one leading closer and closer to the West.  Come to find out his final destination was to be "the rock" as they call it, only to be saved by Bobby Kennedy's action to shut the place down.  

Chills ran up and down my spine.  This was getting really good!  I wanted answers...what did he do?  How close of a call was it?  When did he get released?  How in the world did he get into historical teachings and collectings?!

And on the other hand I was a (teeny) bit relieved when the boarding call came (he was a pre-boarder).  A bit relieved but even more annoyed.  I needed the rest of the story.  

Plan A:  To sit with him on the plane.

Damn, those seats were already taken. 

Plan B:  Get him after the flight.  

Once we landed and de-planed we waited and waited.  He never did appear.  We even stalled in baggage claim and nothing.  Now all we have is his detailed little business card in which he said to "write him at that address".  Not so sure we'll be writing...but maybe a little googling will suffice...

It Happens Just A Couple Times A Year

It's rare that you have a chilly, damp, dreary, rainy day in SoCal.  One can actually get sick of the perfectly sunshiney and 85 degree days so much so, that a wet one is often welcome.

We don't really have heat in our apartment (most don't out here) and it's 65 inside.  My nose is running and I am bundled up.  Ironically, I remember the days of my Michigan childhood where 55 degrees marked "I don't have to wear a jacket" weather.  Then, in Tennessee the 50's became rather chilly.  And now, at 65 I feel like an eskimo in an igloo.  Ahh, how my blood has thinned.

California spoils me.

Now if I could get the hubby to spoil me...  I want a PJ night curled up on the couch, watching Netflix movies, eating pizza and drinking some nice hot herbal tea.  Perhaps my new Sweet Apple Chamomile.  Mmmmmmm.  

I like being married.

A Little Of Both Worlds

It's Monday and I'm still recovering from Saturday night's antics.  I'm clearly out of practice.

The hubby had a show at On The Rox on Sunset.  It has been almost seven years since Ciaobella and I paid that place a visit.  The funny thing was, it remained so unchanged that I felt like I was just there.  Except that last time we were partying with the likes of Andy Dick, Ron Jeremy, Brittany Murphy, Jack Osborn and a Backstreet Boy.  No celebs this time.  Just a rockin' band and my hunka burnin' love.

We stayed out way too late and I spent Sunday in a haze, much like the old days.  However, in the old days, I would have never motivated myself to get up, get dressed and head to Bed Bath and Beyond to buy a brand new, rockin' set of pots and pans.  Happy wedding gift to us!!

Ch, Ch, Ch, Chaaaaaangess

Over the past three months a lot has changed.  And that's an understatement...

I had nervous breakdowns through the rest of the wedding planning process.  I hated it.  But ended up having the most perfect wedding (day) ever.  I am a master planner.

I became a wife.  There's something very refreshing about that.  Although I still can't bring myself to refer to BFE as "my husband".  Just saying the h-word is weird.

I turned thirty.  In She Said What?!?, I would have NEVER divulged my age.  I had too much at stake.  But see, that's the beautiful thing about not being in your twenties.  And being married.  That stuff just doesn't matter anymore.

I got laid off.  Most recently this has happened.  Most view this as a bad thing.  However, I was stuck on a dead-end street.  And now I am free.  It is one of the most liberating feelings ever.

One could say that I've come full circle since I've made the move out to the wild West.  I like to think of it as an upward spiral...one that keeps me changing and growing and learning from the past and present alike...only to see the future as bright as it can possibly be. 

And bright, my friends, it is.

Livin', Lovin'...

On one hand, I'm not very excited about turning thirty tomorrow.  On the other, I'm embracing it for all it entails and loving it.  But it's quite strange to think that I'll never be twenty-something again.  

If anyone could say they've had a "successful" bout of their twenties, I can.  There was love, lust, deceit, betrayal.  Lots of laughter, tears, successes and failures.  A college degree, a new life, countless amazing friends come and gone, broken hearts, living the nightlife to it's fullest...wrote a blog, wrote a newspaper column, moved cross country to California, dream jobs, sucky jobs, dating a various array of boys, finding "the one", meeting his parents, getting my very first kitty, getting engaged...the list goes on.

I've danced on tables, drank so much gin (or was it whiskey?) that I felt the need to confront a redneck (about three times my size) on Broadway and pick a fight), went to see hundreds of bands play at multiple venues.  I've travelled to many cities in our beautiful country.  I've driven my happy little Saturn from East Coast to West...from the Gulf Shores to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.  I've partied each weekend night (including Sunday) until 4a and then worked a five day week.  (How I did that, I still don't know.  Adrenaline?)  I've thrown parties (the good ol' Landings parties!), crashed parties, crashed weddings, bartended at weddings...really the madness is endless.

I've done everything a girl in her twenties should (and shouldn't) do.  I've lived life to the fullest.  I've been irresponsible in a responsible way.  I've grown.  So much so, that I'm actually ready to leave all this behind and move on to the next phase of my life.  I have the best memories of the past decade that one could have.  The best friends ever.  

And now, the beginning of a new era.  An era that will be bumped up a notch or two.  An era that I've earned.  I will not stop having the time of my life...

• I will still party.  I will just party classy.  (no dancing on tables.)

• I will still write.  I will just write more philosophical.

• I will still travel.  

• I will still be me.  It'll just be a little more dignified.
  

I've decided to embrace being thirty.  And top it to no end.  

Livin', lovin', she's just a woman.

 

Wedding Planning Mania

The wedding planning is starting to get to me. It's overwhelming me from the inside out. And I'm a planner! How can this happen?!

I'll tell you how. Because it's a complete clusterf**k of nonsense details that consume your life for nine months and then take up about six hours total of your life in one day. And then it's over. Done. The end. After all that.

I'm beginning to wonder if I should've just taken my Dad's advice and gotten hitched on the beach in Malibu at sunset. I was always so sure that I wanted a huge wedding with all close family and friends...but holy CRAP...is it worth it?!?

Not only am I planning a fair-sized wedding, but I'm planning it from 2500 miles away. Lucky for me and my ambition, I was able to lock down all the main vendors early on. But now, as I'm at the three month out mark, I'm getting all stressy about the little details. I'm even organized and I'm still getting stressy. What if I forget something? Why can't I think of ANY ceremony music that I want to use (we're going non-traditional)? Why is food and drinks SO expensive? Why is my dress so difficult to get on that I need someone else to help me into it? Why am I fortunate enough to have so many close friends and family that I had to have six bridesmaids which will limit the gifts I get them due to budgeting fun? Why did I even think that having a huge wedding was so important?

I'm fine, really. But this is crazy. I told B.F.E. last night that he is now enlisted as full-time help on this. I just can't do it all anymore. Being the B.F.E. that he is, he agreed. He even offered to clean up the house so that every night when I come home there's nothing to worry about in that arena. Now you see why I call him B.F.E.