1. Flight of the Conchords
2. Sue Sylvester
3. When my kids inadvertently say the wrong word (like my son saying he wanted to help his sister with her "diarrhea" instead of her "diorama."
4. My husband. Truly the funniest person I know, even if he doesn't show that side unless he knows you well.
5. My Uncle Dan
6. Usually any conversation with my closest girlfriends
7. Gordon Ramsay screaming at Hell's Kitchen contestants
8. Modern Family
9. What's up Doc? Fab movie starring myBarbra.
10. Watching people play Wii tennis
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Things that make me cry
1. Steel Magnolias
2. When Eponine dies in Marius' arms after singing "A Little Fall of Rain"
3. When one of my children does something that fills them with a sense of accomplishment
4. Pretty much the entire last hour of The Joy Luck Club
5. The children's book, Someday
6. Listening to "Full of Grace" by Sarah MacLachlan or "In My Daughter's Eyes" by Martina McBride or "Baby Mine" by Bette Midler
7. When my husband surprises me and does something all romantic and schmoopy
8. Anything written by Jodi Picoult
9. Last season's Grey's Anatomy finale
10. When amazing things happen to deserving people
Basically, I'm a total sap.
2. When Eponine dies in Marius' arms after singing "A Little Fall of Rain"
3. When one of my children does something that fills them with a sense of accomplishment
4. Pretty much the entire last hour of The Joy Luck Club
5. The children's book, Someday
6. Listening to "Full of Grace" by Sarah MacLachlan or "In My Daughter's Eyes" by Martina McBride or "Baby Mine" by Bette Midler
7. When my husband surprises me and does something all romantic and schmoopy
8. Anything written by Jodi Picoult
9. Last season's Grey's Anatomy finale
10. When amazing things happen to deserving people
Basically, I'm a total sap.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Letting my geek flag fly
Yesterday I was driving to pick up my kids when one of my all-time favorite songs came on the radio. It's not a song that I'd ever admit to liking publicly, but in the privacy of my own car with no one around, I was happy to loudly sing along.
Which got me to thinking, I have all kinds of secret shames that only the people closest to me know anything about.
Until now.
Song: After All, by Peter Cetera and Cher. Now, in all fairness, at the time this song came out in 1986, it was totally socially acceptable in many social circles to like Peter Cetera. Just not in mine. I was way-too-cool indie alt-rock girl back then, so I'd never have admitted it to anyone, save for the fact that since it appeared as the theme of a pre-jail Robert Downey Jr flick (and at the height of my crush on him). I love this song. I know it's crap. But I love it. And I have been known to do it as a duet with my GBFF during karaoke from time to time. Ahem.
Movie: The American President. Ok, I've already established in this blog that I have crazy love for Annette Bening. But that still shouldn't be enough to excuse how many times I've watched this cheezy and entirely formulaic movie. I mean, I've literally seen pieces of this movie hundreds of times. I'm physically incapable of flipping by it on tv and not stopping and watching it. My husband calls it a sickness. I call it my crack.
TV Show(s): Assorted what-used-to-be-the-WB teen dramas. Had mad love back in the day for Dawson's Creek (Pacey/Joey 4eva!), Felicity and Buffy. I even have the complete sets of DVDs for all of them, even though I've never opened the DC or Felicity ones. Buffy though, is a different story. My favorite thing to do on the rare occasions when I'm home sick is to watch selected episodes from Seasons 1-3, since I was a die hard Buffy/Angel fan ("I can stay in town for as long as you want me/How's forever? Does forever work for you?") sniff, sniff.
Books: I do love myself some Twilight (the books, not the movies, which are awful). Actually, come to think of it, the books are pretty awful too. But in a good way. At least that's what I tell myself so I can still sleep at night.
Food: I love grilled cheese. So much so that my excitement was palpable when a grilled cheese restaurant opened near my house. I also love peanut butter and jelly. In case you were wondering, yes, I am a grown-up.
My, that was rather freeing. Even if I've suddenly realized that I'm pretty much still a 13-year-old girl at heart.
Which got me to thinking, I have all kinds of secret shames that only the people closest to me know anything about.
Until now.
Song: After All, by Peter Cetera and Cher. Now, in all fairness, at the time this song came out in 1986, it was totally socially acceptable in many social circles to like Peter Cetera. Just not in mine. I was way-too-cool indie alt-rock girl back then, so I'd never have admitted it to anyone, save for the fact that since it appeared as the theme of a pre-jail Robert Downey Jr flick (and at the height of my crush on him). I love this song. I know it's crap. But I love it. And I have been known to do it as a duet with my GBFF during karaoke from time to time. Ahem.
Movie: The American President. Ok, I've already established in this blog that I have crazy love for Annette Bening. But that still shouldn't be enough to excuse how many times I've watched this cheezy and entirely formulaic movie. I mean, I've literally seen pieces of this movie hundreds of times. I'm physically incapable of flipping by it on tv and not stopping and watching it. My husband calls it a sickness. I call it my crack.
TV Show(s): Assorted what-used-to-be-the-WB teen dramas. Had mad love back in the day for Dawson's Creek (Pacey/Joey 4eva!), Felicity and Buffy. I even have the complete sets of DVDs for all of them, even though I've never opened the DC or Felicity ones. Buffy though, is a different story. My favorite thing to do on the rare occasions when I'm home sick is to watch selected episodes from Seasons 1-3, since I was a die hard Buffy/Angel fan ("I can stay in town for as long as you want me/How's forever? Does forever work for you?") sniff, sniff.
Books: I do love myself some Twilight (the books, not the movies, which are awful). Actually, come to think of it, the books are pretty awful too. But in a good way. At least that's what I tell myself so I can still sleep at night.
Food: I love grilled cheese. So much so that my excitement was palpable when a grilled cheese restaurant opened near my house. I also love peanut butter and jelly. In case you were wondering, yes, I am a grown-up.
My, that was rather freeing. Even if I've suddenly realized that I'm pretty much still a 13-year-old girl at heart.
Friday, April 9, 2010
An American in Paris
Here are just a few things I learned on my recent sojourn to Paris:
1. If the French give you the option to take an elevator instead of the stairs, DO IT. They are not wussy Americans. Nope, the French only provide assisted elevation if it's is really necessary. Like if the alternative is walking up 300+ windy stairs left over from the time of the French revolution.
2. Panhandling in Paris is an art form. It's not like here, where someone holds up a dingy sign or says a feeble "change please" from time to time. Oh no. It's like it's own form of theater, fully ingrained in the gypsy culture. They emote. They have props. They play the accordion and throw themselves at your feet, weeping. They have just the right amount of dirt on their cheeks to invoke comparisons to Eponine. I gave many a spare Euro, just for the entertainment value alone.
3. There is such a thing as rabbit's milk. And it apparently is not just for bunnies. And don't get me started on the horse's milk. Finding the appropriate jug at the cereal section of the breakfast buffet each morning was always an adventure.
4. The French take their chocolate very seriously. And I mean very seriously. In the days leading up to Easter, the chocolate shops on every corner had displays that cost the equivalent of $1800. And the lines were just out the door.
5. It's amazing that French children survive long enough to grow up to be French adults. While they may take their chocolate seriously, they don't take the same care with their playground safety. It became a running joke during our trip of how many unsafe playground rides could we find (and then naturally record video of our kids risking their lives doing it too). No soft, squishy surfacing to break their falls. Oh no. They have things like the 50-feet-tall "Eiffel Tower" climbing structures that span over nothing but hard concrete. Or strange zip cord thingies that lead to countless children kicking each other in the head or falling on top of each other.
6. I don't recognize the French version of my kids. They literally had to be dragged out of the Greek antiquities wing of the Louvre. They walked miles and miles every day without complaint. And they voluntarily ate Moroccan food, even though things were "touching each other" on their plates.
7. French kids are different than American kids. Putting aside the fact that we never actually saw any (unless we were at a playground), or that waiters patted my son on the head like he was a dog when we entered a restaurant. I'll never forget when a waiter assured me they had kid-friendly cuisine, only to point to the "calf's head sandwich" on the menu. Um, yeah, no.
8. The global economy isn't always a good thing. Last time I was in Paris (15 years ago), I remember feeling as though I had stepped into another reality. It was just so different from what I knew. This time, notsomuch. It had the same feeling as any world-class city, and you couldn't walk a block without seeing a Gap, McDonalds or Starbucks. The toy stores sold all the same made in china crap I can buy here, but for 3 times the price. And most amazingly, the locals were thrilled to speak English to us. As one waiter told my son, "speaking French gets you no place in this world. If you want to succeed, you must speak English." Kinda sad.
9. The French love themselves some carousels. Rain or shine, the lines were lengthy at every carousel we went to.
10. When all else fails, use your kids for personal gain. Lots of airplane travel and airport security headaches often could lead to short tempers for my family. My secret? Find a sympathetic looking airline employee, put on my sweetest (yet beleaguered-looking) mom expression and ordered the kids to look pathetic. Inevitably someone takes pity on me and we move to the front of the line. Don't knock it. It's what got me out of the Dallas airport after we missed our connection home, and the only flight out was completely booked. Somehow, they miraculously found room for us.
And now, back to my regularly scheduled life. But, at least we'll always have Paris.
1. If the French give you the option to take an elevator instead of the stairs, DO IT. They are not wussy Americans. Nope, the French only provide assisted elevation if it's is really necessary. Like if the alternative is walking up 300+ windy stairs left over from the time of the French revolution.
2. Panhandling in Paris is an art form. It's not like here, where someone holds up a dingy sign or says a feeble "change please" from time to time. Oh no. It's like it's own form of theater, fully ingrained in the gypsy culture. They emote. They have props. They play the accordion and throw themselves at your feet, weeping. They have just the right amount of dirt on their cheeks to invoke comparisons to Eponine. I gave many a spare Euro, just for the entertainment value alone.
3. There is such a thing as rabbit's milk. And it apparently is not just for bunnies. And don't get me started on the horse's milk. Finding the appropriate jug at the cereal section of the breakfast buffet each morning was always an adventure.
4. The French take their chocolate very seriously. And I mean very seriously. In the days leading up to Easter, the chocolate shops on every corner had displays that cost the equivalent of $1800. And the lines were just out the door.
5. It's amazing that French children survive long enough to grow up to be French adults. While they may take their chocolate seriously, they don't take the same care with their playground safety. It became a running joke during our trip of how many unsafe playground rides could we find (and then naturally record video of our kids risking their lives doing it too). No soft, squishy surfacing to break their falls. Oh no. They have things like the 50-feet-tall "Eiffel Tower" climbing structures that span over nothing but hard concrete. Or strange zip cord thingies that lead to countless children kicking each other in the head or falling on top of each other.
6. I don't recognize the French version of my kids. They literally had to be dragged out of the Greek antiquities wing of the Louvre. They walked miles and miles every day without complaint. And they voluntarily ate Moroccan food, even though things were "touching each other" on their plates.
7. French kids are different than American kids. Putting aside the fact that we never actually saw any (unless we were at a playground), or that waiters patted my son on the head like he was a dog when we entered a restaurant. I'll never forget when a waiter assured me they had kid-friendly cuisine, only to point to the "calf's head sandwich" on the menu. Um, yeah, no.
8. The global economy isn't always a good thing. Last time I was in Paris (15 years ago), I remember feeling as though I had stepped into another reality. It was just so different from what I knew. This time, notsomuch. It had the same feeling as any world-class city, and you couldn't walk a block without seeing a Gap, McDonalds or Starbucks. The toy stores sold all the same made in china crap I can buy here, but for 3 times the price. And most amazingly, the locals were thrilled to speak English to us. As one waiter told my son, "speaking French gets you no place in this world. If you want to succeed, you must speak English." Kinda sad.
9. The French love themselves some carousels. Rain or shine, the lines were lengthy at every carousel we went to.
10. When all else fails, use your kids for personal gain. Lots of airplane travel and airport security headaches often could lead to short tempers for my family. My secret? Find a sympathetic looking airline employee, put on my sweetest (yet beleaguered-looking) mom expression and ordered the kids to look pathetic. Inevitably someone takes pity on me and we move to the front of the line. Don't knock it. It's what got me out of the Dallas airport after we missed our connection home, and the only flight out was completely booked. Somehow, they miraculously found room for us.
And now, back to my regularly scheduled life. But, at least we'll always have Paris.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
For Tim.
and in the end
the love you take
is equal to
the love you make
I had fully intended for my first new blog after my trip to be all about Paris (and that is still on the agenda). But upon my return, I was hit hard by the news that one of my favorite teachers from my high school days, Tim Shannon, had died suddenly on Monday night from a heart attack.
He was only 49-years-old.
Thousands went to a candelight vigil for him at the high school last night, but distance made it impossible for me to attend. So instead, I spent the night iChatting about him with some friends who also lived too far away to make the trip. It was an evening full of laughter, reminiscing and tears. Regardless though, I still feel like I should have been there.
So Tim, this is for you.
Tim first arrived at my high school during my Sophomore year to run the drama department. He immediately stood out from the rest of the faculty, and not just because of his youth. First of all, he wasn't "Mr. Shannon," he was "Tim." And he didn't just listen to you...he heard you.
Having your opinion matter is important to anyone, but it's especially crucial to a teenager. You have all this stuff going on inside of you, but it can oftentimes feel as though no one takes you seriously. But not Tim. If you had an opinion, he encouraged you to express it. It was okay to disagree with him. And you may just be 15-years-old, but you mattered. Drama is all about camaraderie and teamwork. You are, for all intents and purposes, a family. And Tim made it very clear that no one was a more important part of the family than anyone else.
He could also be indulgent. I was part of a group of 4 girls (*waves to Bridget, Lisa and Whitny*)that were probably a thorn in his side, even though you'd never know it. We were always talking when we should have been listening. We took what should have been simple warm-up exercises and turned them into mini-Broadway productions. We never just took his direction at face value, but questioned him at every turn. But Tim just took us in stride. He even told Bridget that she was on the wrong side of things, and should really direct instead of act. Funny thing? That's exactly what she's doing now. Tim just knew.
I've had countless teachers in my life, but Tim is one of the few that "stuck." The things he taught me over 20 years ago are the skills I still use in my life today-- honor, commitment, trust, kindness, compassion, selflessness and the need for occasional improv skills.
We had just recently reconnected on Facebook, where I was happy to see that, even today, he was still everyone's favorite teacher. I have an email he sent me a few weeks ago, where he told me how proud he was of me and how my life has turned out. I've read that email more than a dozen times over the last couple of days, and I feel so fortunate to have had the chance to hear from him one last time.
His Facebook page has now turned into a memorial of sorts, with hundreds of people posting their memories and love. His death has just rocked the lives of everyone who knew him. But through the grief, I also feel a sense of awe-- talk about making a difference. How many of us can say that we literally made a tangible impact in thousands of lives? Which is why the lyrics from that Beatles song have been swirling around in my head since I received the news. And through our love for Tim, and his love for us, we've all also managed to reconnect with each other. That will be part of his legacy.
Tim made us feel like we mattered. And as a result, Tim mattered to us.
Tim had a tradition, where all of the actors painted their name and graduation year on a brick wall backstage. "This way," he said, "you'll live on here forever."
Much the way Tim will live on forever in the hearts of each of us who were fortunate enough to know him, and to have him care about us.
Rest in peace my friend.
the love you take
is equal to
the love you make
I had fully intended for my first new blog after my trip to be all about Paris (and that is still on the agenda). But upon my return, I was hit hard by the news that one of my favorite teachers from my high school days, Tim Shannon, had died suddenly on Monday night from a heart attack.
He was only 49-years-old.
Thousands went to a candelight vigil for him at the high school last night, but distance made it impossible for me to attend. So instead, I spent the night iChatting about him with some friends who also lived too far away to make the trip. It was an evening full of laughter, reminiscing and tears. Regardless though, I still feel like I should have been there.
So Tim, this is for you.
Tim first arrived at my high school during my Sophomore year to run the drama department. He immediately stood out from the rest of the faculty, and not just because of his youth. First of all, he wasn't "Mr. Shannon," he was "Tim." And he didn't just listen to you...he heard you.
Having your opinion matter is important to anyone, but it's especially crucial to a teenager. You have all this stuff going on inside of you, but it can oftentimes feel as though no one takes you seriously. But not Tim. If you had an opinion, he encouraged you to express it. It was okay to disagree with him. And you may just be 15-years-old, but you mattered. Drama is all about camaraderie and teamwork. You are, for all intents and purposes, a family. And Tim made it very clear that no one was a more important part of the family than anyone else.
He could also be indulgent. I was part of a group of 4 girls (*waves to Bridget, Lisa and Whitny*)that were probably a thorn in his side, even though you'd never know it. We were always talking when we should have been listening. We took what should have been simple warm-up exercises and turned them into mini-Broadway productions. We never just took his direction at face value, but questioned him at every turn. But Tim just took us in stride. He even told Bridget that she was on the wrong side of things, and should really direct instead of act. Funny thing? That's exactly what she's doing now. Tim just knew.
I've had countless teachers in my life, but Tim is one of the few that "stuck." The things he taught me over 20 years ago are the skills I still use in my life today-- honor, commitment, trust, kindness, compassion, selflessness and the need for occasional improv skills.
We had just recently reconnected on Facebook, where I was happy to see that, even today, he was still everyone's favorite teacher. I have an email he sent me a few weeks ago, where he told me how proud he was of me and how my life has turned out. I've read that email more than a dozen times over the last couple of days, and I feel so fortunate to have had the chance to hear from him one last time.
His Facebook page has now turned into a memorial of sorts, with hundreds of people posting their memories and love. His death has just rocked the lives of everyone who knew him. But through the grief, I also feel a sense of awe-- talk about making a difference. How many of us can say that we literally made a tangible impact in thousands of lives? Which is why the lyrics from that Beatles song have been swirling around in my head since I received the news. And through our love for Tim, and his love for us, we've all also managed to reconnect with each other. That will be part of his legacy.
Tim made us feel like we mattered. And as a result, Tim mattered to us.
Tim had a tradition, where all of the actors painted their name and graduation year on a brick wall backstage. "This way," he said, "you'll live on here forever."
Much the way Tim will live on forever in the hearts of each of us who were fortunate enough to know him, and to have him care about us.
Rest in peace my friend.
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