A Style that Inspires Stink-Eye!

What, this old thing? I guess haters gonna hate...

This past weekend, I wasn't feeling the greatest about my style or my hair. The roots are growing out and exposing the grays while the ends are bleached blonde from a combination of the sun and the chlorine from the pool at the Y. I was so frustrated I was ready to call up my friend Liz to buzz it all off for charity.

Style-wise, being in-process of changing shape and not having excess money for brand-new clothes, I've been in my usual hunt for affordable fashion by thrifting.

So I was feeling kind of ugly and low rent. Until...

I encountered the ladies.

We were up in Gaylord for a skating comp I was judging. Going down for breakfast, I fluffed the hair and threw on a Liz Claiborne maxi dress I picked up at the Salvation Army for 49 cents. It was cute, in diagonal stripes of green, yellow and cream. I wasn't feeling like I was rockin' it, just wanting some coffee and maybe a bagel.

The first of "the ladies" I encountered was at the coffee station. Prim hair in a bun and wearing a long, pastel skirt and sweater on a day promising to be in the 90s, she took in my wild hair and body skimming dress... and gave me the up-and-down once-over, the sneer on her face making it clear she was not impressed with my lustful appearance.

Huh.

I joined my husband and son back at the table, and then went to toast a bagel. I was polite, pleasant, and made small talk with a few people waiting their turn at the toaster. Evil appraisal number 2 came from a steel-haired bunhead wearing an ankle to neck denim jumper. She too thought me a harlot with bare leg peeking out of the slit and curls flying free.

I was starting to feel better about myself.

I whispered the incidents to my husband and he laid in wait for the next mean girl to pass judgement. It came from what appeared to be the preacher's wife, earnestly clutching a missile to her woolen breast, sensible shoes flaring out from legs knifing through the folds of her long, heavy gray skirt.

I felt like a whore in church. A HOT whore in church. Instead of shame, which is what I was sure they wished for me, I suddenly felt like I was workin' it.

I've never felt the positive power that kind of negativity can give you, and it felt kinda awesome.

What's Right in the World: Kid Rock has a Foundation

Bawitdaba da bang a dang diggy diggy diggy

said the boogy said up jump the boogy!

Flipping through the GR Press, inconspicuously on page A17 was the headline "Kid Rock Foundation gives $250K to Music Gallery."

Kid. Rock. Has. A. Foundation.

The story goes on to say Romeo's Bob Ritchie is donating the cash to the Detroit Historical Museum for a Music Lab, an interactive display covering the history of music in Detroit from jazz to blues, Motown to techno and hip-hop.

Curious, I went to his website, and found the mission statement to his Foundation:

"I can't stop the war, shelter homeless, feed the poor. I can't walk on water. Can't save your sons and daughters. I can't change the world to make things fair. This is the least that I can do. The Kid Rock Foundation is a 501 (c) 3 non-profit raising funds for and awareness of local and regional charities helping disadvantaged children, victims of war and natural disasters, and those suffering from illness."

There's something so genuine, so refreshing, so MICHIGAN about this gesture. I've known plenty of badasses in my time that extol the virtue of swigging beers, chasing wimmen and staying out all night who will flag down the ice cream truck and treat all the kids in the neighborhood.

Look no further than Kid's Detroit compatriots Insane Clown Posse. ICP was contacted by MAXIM magazine to do a feature on a night on the town in Detroit, and gave them around $800. Strippers? Casino? Debauchery? Body shots? No. ICP did a benefit concert for a local homeless shelter where the fans brought food and blankets as their "ticket" to the show, dropped a majority of the MAXIM cash in the donation box, took the fans out for a round of drinks to give back, then took whoever wanted to go along over to Green's Hamburgers (LOVE Green's!) for burgers and fries.

I also cite Ted Nugent as an example when I was a teen. Bowhunting with cancer patients. Deer hunting with underprivledged children. Walking through the Westwood Mall buying stuff for people for the heck of it. Generous tipper too.

But back to Kid Rock. He's done rap. He's done rock. He's done country. He brews his own beer. He supports local Detroit business. Even with the Foundation as the face of his charity, I'm sure he does a lot more for the community than he lets on.

He's more than just a cowboy, baby.

Typing Out Loud: Using Bags of Talent

Stills from Metallica's "Unforgiven" video. Heavy, and not just because it's metal.

Olympic hangover: watching television last night was so dull compared to the last two weeks. The United States racked up the most medals, but it was amazing to see perseverance from all corners of the globe. Go World indeed. Closing ceremonies rocked, but NBC did a little too much commercial break editing and screwed the audience out of some iconic performances.

Fitness goals continue, I was informed by Mike, the personal trainer at the Y that has been watching my progress, that I am currently sitting in 6th place in the Y's Summer Sweat Challenge. I have been diligent but not competitive about participating... until now. I'm not going to go crazy, but I might step it up a little to score a few more points and see if 5th place is in reach.

That said, the last of my size 16 pants (I guess it's OK to reveal the size I was now) have retired to the Goodwill pile. Out went the khaki, gray and black dress pants. I am now down to only two pairs of dress pants, both size 12 - giddy! - that will have to do until I can go shopping again.

Dad's birthday is looming this Saturday, and my mom is being so optimistic and insisting we celebrate his life instead of mourning his passing. Lesson learned, how nice.

I had leadership training here at work last week, and although it was a little hippy-touchy-feely, I learned quite a bit about myself. *blows out breath* Where to begin?

Day 1 we were asked to punch circles out to give our assessment of how well we take care of our mind, body and spirit. I punched out two medium circles for mind and body, then punched out a smaller but still medium sized circle for spirit. Then we took a quiz that stunned me, all my parts were more or less perfectly equal and in sync. When asked, as the youngest member of the "balance" group how this could be, I explained that significant life changes forced the issue. Overwhelmed, I cried, thinking "I'm going to be OK..."

For years, I have been wondering about my life path, most significantly, what the hell I'm doing here. Working in hospital admissions is not my career path, and was certainly not part of my life goal. When asked to reflect on why we were attending the conference, I prayed for an answer that would satisfy my ego, which had been battered by my layoff several years ago.

After three days of lectures, dialogue, skits, "sharing circles" and such, I began thinking about my favorite parable, that of the man who gave three servants bags of gold that they were to use to amass a fortune. The one he gave 5 bags of gold to returned with 15; the one with 3 returned with 9; but the man who was given only one bag returned the bag unused and untouched. When asked why, the servant responded that he was scared to lose it and didn't use it. The man explained that it was like having a talent and not using it, was worse than robbery.

For a clearer explanation, I refer to Metallica's "Unforgiven."

Anyway, I have bemoaned the last few years the loss of opportunity to use my talents as a copywriter, event planner and designer. Well, I've used this blog to keep up my writing, don't really care about the event planning, and I have overachieved in the designer thing with all the art shows this year. But I hate the feeling my career is over.

Ah, but I have one little bag of talent that while I have used it, has gone unnoticed and under appreciated by me.

Back when we were living in St. Louis, I was hired by a top accounting firm to be a graphic designer. Sure, they liked my work, but when I agreed to work for them, I was pulled aside by the hiring manager and told exactly why I was hired: I was the kind of person that would unite instead of divide and at present, the current staff hated each other. Wha...? I ended up staying in the job for 6 months, the only reason I didn't stay longer was because we moved back to Michigan. And because of that, I was offered a position in the Detroit office, the hiring manager a little off on her geography.

Working in admissions is not easy, you see lots of anger, lots of tears, lots of confusion. I don't get to use all of my talents, but I do use one, that being a welcoming, pleasing person that can smooth over a crisis as a minor bump in the road. It's a talent I didn't see as a talent,  yet I am using it willingly in service at my job.

Was this God's answer to me? Are we sometimes allowed to exercise freewill, but in other cases, he rearranges the chess board, so to speak, as a request that we serve Him in a capacity for which He needs us?

Pretty heady thoughts for someone answering phones.

Why Art Matters: This is Sportscenter

Little early for an Art Matters post, but I'll be at training all week. Plus, with the Olympics, it's time to talk sports!

Few commercials sell their show, and sports culture in general, better than This is SportsCenter for ESPN.

The ads began running in 1994. Depicting office culture in and around the ESPN studios, the ads feature the anchors interacting with each other, athletes, celebrities and mascots. In any given spot you may see NASCAR drivers fixing potholes in the parking lot, Sparty in the break room with Floyd Mayweather, the Manning brothers acting like boys and getting in trouble while touring the facilities.

Why I love them: they're clever, laugh-out-loud funny, and perfectly blend sports culture with the very day life experiences of the viewer. Michael Phelps in a cube stealing back a medal his office mate was using for a coaster, even if "it's only the bronze." Michelle Kwan setting up a kiss 'n' cry for anchors waiting for their marks after a broadcast.

Ever the geek, I have envisioned my own SportsCenter spot. Two anchors and a mascot (gotta have a mascot) standing around a cube telling light bulb jokes because the one above them is burnt out, and one of them asks, "how many ice skaters does it take to change a light bulb?" A pairs team approaches, decked out in competition attire. The man sets the girl up in a lift and rotates, allowing her to change the light bulb, they exit the lift with flair, and they walk away setting up yet another lift. One anchor deadpans, "two apparently" as the mascot mimics the lift.

End scene!

McLaughlin and Brubaker in their prime:

she could totally change a light bulb in a cathedral ceiling doing this lift.

August Playlist: Beatles Tribute Band

Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. The Fabs as little charms for sale on etsy. 

Oh, the Fabs. Have I bored any readers *crickets* with my devotion? I regretfully have not been able to get Will hooked on them, his interest in the movie "Yellow Submarine" was lukewarm at best.

But it's nice to know that outside of my home, I am not alone in my devotion. Lots of acts have paid homage to John, George, Paul and Ringo by doing some serious remakes that are equal to the original. A few of my favorites:

Fiona Apple, Across the Universe: from the Pleasantville soundtrack, one of my favorite movies.

The Verve Pipe, Taxman and Strawberry Fields Forever: TVP is another band I've rehashed here time and again. We've seen them live so often and have had conversations with them, it's strange knowing a famous/almost famous band. When they were in their art rock/REM phase, the first encore song was Taxman. When they were on the verge of breakout hit status with the release of their national album Villians, they busted out SFF at their album release party at the Orbit Room and got everyone whipped up in a peace/love frenzy.

Aerosmith, Come Together: from the trainwreck Sgt. Peppers Lonely Heart Club Band movie. Aerosmith was billed as the FVB (Future Villian Band) and shredded this song.

Earth, Wind and Fire, Got To Get You Into My Life: the original was McCartney doing white boy funk and you could just hear EW&F thinking "Lord, let me take a crack at it." Blistering disco horns and they don't pretend to be anyone else in the movie but themselves.

Siouxse and the Banshees, Dear Prudence: my college roommate Missy was musically all over the map, from gothy alternative to yee-haw country. She got me into Siouxse, and this remake, on the greatest hits album, was a pleasant surprise.

The Black Keys, She Said, She Said: as I'm getting older I'm getting less hip, less indie. I don't have time for that crap anymore, I'm two months behind in reading Rolling Stone and SPIN as it is. How did I find this one? My husband enthusiastically pried my nose out of my Kindle, forcing me to listen. I felt my ear fold in pleasure. This rarely happens.

Rolling Stones, I Wanna Be Your Man: what cracks me up in music snob circles is the Elvis v. Beatles v. Rolling Stones debates that go 'round and 'round. I was teased soundly by my bully Kelly freshman year because she was a Stones fan and I was a Beatles fan. All debates aside, John and Paul gave this rocker to Mick and Keith right around the time they gave it to Ringo to have a go at it. High respect among the two factions, not only was the Shirley Temple doll on the cover of the Sgt. Pepper album wearing a Rolling Stones sweater, the Yellow Submarine in the movie briefly sported a RS banner on the tail. Mick was in the audience singing along to "All You Need is Love" as the first satellite broadcast in 1967, and John was in the Stones Rock and Roll Circus movie. Don't see this kind of bond with The Who...

Pearl Jam, I Gotta Feeling: another one from the hubby, this via a mixtape from his college roommate Stork. Eddie Vedder's voice is pushed to the brink, then he comes back and glides over Lennon's bridge.



Bonus: Beatle Wish List!  This may be a moot point as some of this may have already happened, but what songs would a fan like me want to hear redone by another favorite artist?

Lady Gaga, Eleanor Rigby: would she hone in on the drama, the loneliness, the creepiness or does she disco out the woman who was supposed to be darning socks? I would be fascinated to see what Stephanie could do with it.

Madonna, Lady Madonna: duh.

Tori Amos, Here Comes the Sun: a sweet song that she may twist into something melancholy.

Train, Golden Slumbers/Carry That Weight: this band is moving up the dial from mere like to something more after last year's "San Francisco" and this year's mariachi-pop. I think they would do a bang-up job on this one.

One Direction, I Feel Fine: what? The latest pop candy on my list? Have you heard how sunny sweet these kids are? I think they would turn the joy up a notch if it were possible.

Rush, Only a Northern Song or Savoy Truffle: The guys in my husband's favorite band have eschewed the Beatles in favor of heavier British influences like Zeppelin and The Who. Methinks they protest too much. I throw this challenge to them, and see if they can handle the heavy organ and dreamy vocals of Northern Song or tackle the inside joke directed at Eric Clapton.

Foo Fighters, Hey Bulldog: recent post on facebook states this is Dave Grohl's daughter's favorite song. He is raising her right.

What's Right in the World: Bucket Lists

The Olympics are here! It is so inspiring to witness a global pursuit of personal and team glory. On a broad scale, I know intellectuals pshaw athletics as simplistic, but I think that is selling the unifying spirit of the games short. On a personal level, as a weekend warrior, I'm in awe of these athletes, most of them everyday people, in pursuit of the ultimate entry on a bucket list: competing at the Olympic Games.

I love hearing about others bucket lists. It means people have dreams, goals, an eye on the prize, a vision towards the future, something to look forward to. And I'm not talking exclusively of athletic endeavors. Dave and our friend Larry have a goal to prepare and serve the seven classic sauces as defined by French cooking schools (I don't think nacho cheese sauce is on that list). The girls want to take a cruise together to celebrate Denise's 40th birthday. 

In a nod towards my usual "typing out loud," it might be time to add some things to my bucket list.

I still want to be an extra in a movie. No lines, just a face in the crowd.

Get down to a size 10. I did buy two pairs of size 12 pants yesterday, so it's not too far off.

I'd like to learn to shoot a gun. I'm typing this as an American is accepting her gold in skeet shooting. I have no political reason for it, I think it's an amazing skill and I respect hunters who know how to shoot to kill with minimum pain to the animal, without ruining the meat.

I haven't tried one in a while, but I want to do a cartwheel. Why? Gymnastics commercial.

I want to go to NYC for a long weekend. LA too, if only to get on the Price Is Right.

I'd like to go to Europe and hit a few countries: Poland, France, Italy, Russia.

I'd like to attend an Olympics as a volunteer, just to be in the atmosphere.

Ooo, write a book. I did when I was a kid, and still have the draft with illustrations, Patty and her friends. It's childish at best but it's cool to know I have written one. Actually, I've written two, the other did not survive; it was in an orange notebook and was about two farm kids, Anna and her brother ...? who found a secret cave on the edge of their field, a gateway to fantasy-like adventures.

And for some reason, I think an episode of Curious George, I want to throw a clay pot.

Typing Out Loud pt.2:"You're Not Plus-Size Anymore"

I can't believe it. After years of dieting, beating myself up, trying most anything that might work, "it's" finally working.

I have lost 20 pounds.

How'd I do it? Well, I think it first started with "the diagnosis." My previous sugar number was 6.6, or in the range of a pre-diabetic. I was confident that after having eliminated french fries and sugared soda and theater boxes of sweets that it would easily be under control. I also had a variety of activity to "prove" to my doctor I was working on it: skating, running 5ks, swimming.

Then the number came back: 8.0: diabetic.

I got mad. WTF else was I supposed to do!?

Then I laid down the law and took a frank look at what I had been doing. All too often I would rely on a quick McD's stop for lunch, a bag of "healthy" chips for dinner, dismissing it as "only 37 carbs," not thinking of the empty calories. Even then, I slipped on the carb counting a few times, lapsing into bad habits for a day or two, then a week, then a month.

I also looked at my activity at the Y. I went to a class here and there, did a little bit on the treadmill, swam for fun. I certainly wasn't getting my money's worth.

It was time for change. It was time for a real challenge.

First thing to do was eliminate fast food and replace it with GOOD food. Ok, I concede to the occasional Subway and Taco Bell, but it's been a looooooong time since I've made McD's, BK and Wendy's routine. Carrots instead of candy. I also learned how to make kale chips.

I also altered the diet so there were more vegetables consumed. This meant more casserole type dishes where the meat was part of but not the main focus of the meal. More salads. Less pasta, bread, carbs.

Snacking changed too. I would stick a yogurt in the freezer for a frozen dessert - Yoplait Whips are awesome this way. Being a salty snacker, I went the nuts and kale chips route. Also veggies and dip.

And then there was Biggest Loser contest at work for motivational help.

Workout-wise, the March Madness challenge was a godsend. I found new exercises I like, new classes I like, new challenges that keep me from being bored, and a new confidence in myself as an athlete. I remember the first time I climbed on the scale, thinking "what the hell" and was stunned to see 3 pounds gone. That joy columnated in the number I saw today.

And thank God for the recall on my old iPod so I could trade it in and rock the latest generation nano that clips on my clothes and holds 12 times the content and 12 times the charge.

My friend Dan paid me one of the sweetest compliments: "I like how you're doing this. All this time you have talked about working out and eating habits. Not once have you mentioned a pill, a shake or a fad diet." It's a comfort to know I did it the right way as opposed to giving myself a complex or fell into disordered eating.

Some skating coaches who haven't seen me in a year exclaimed this weekend at my new look. I bashfully said something about the challenge of shopping and worrying about clothes that fit and flatter as opposed to being covered. They ackowledged the challenge as I plucked self-consciously at my clothes, saying bluntly "you're not plus-size anymore."

To some, 20 pounds may not seem like a big deal. But I've been fighting to lose weight since I sprouted a tumor on my thyroid when I was 23. As a matter of fact, this is the first time I've lost ANY significant weight since college in 1990. I'm also fighting against the forces of PCOS, diabetes and my heritage, so this little victory is a big deal.

Next goal is to lose 9 more pounds by my birthday, September 15. That's 6+ weeks, not sure I can do it without some drastic changes. I still want to do this the healthy way, and that is more important than mere pounds shed.