Hey Christmas... where did you go?

Hi there blogosphere. I've been silent because I've been on the run. There have been so many fun things that we've done, and they've gone by so fast that I've been remiss in sharing all of our fun-ness with the internet. Please accept my sincerest apologies. I do hope that everyone had a lovely Christmas. I still can't quite believe it's over. The Maestro and I did a lot of singing (he did a lot of playing the organ, too), a lot of laying around in our pajamas, followed by a lot of driving and spending time with family. It was so beautiful. So incredibly beautiful that I wish I could have a week more. Then, I feel like I'd be ready to face 2009 with open arms. Since it doesn't seem that I'll have my way, though, I'll have to get the most I can out of the Christmas season in the next 24 hours, I suppose.

With that, I'll leave you all (until tomorrow) with the real meaning of Christmas.

Spectacular, Spectacular!

A few years back, I got the express honor to perform in Baltimore Symphony's first Holiday Spectacular alongside Robert Goulet and Shirley Jones-- you know, that guy Will Ferrell so hilariously parodied on SNL and Mrs. Partridge. I have stories that I will keep with me for the rest of my life.... especially about Goulet. I don't mean to talk about the dead, but the man was a character.

See for yourself: Will Ferrell's completely accurate portrayal.

At any rate, the show, while memorable was nothing short of a disaster for many reasons. For the past four years, however, the BSO has drastically changed the format of their Holiday Spectacular. It has become a tradition for us to go every year, and it never fails to disappoint. This year's celebration was headlined by Sandi Patty which was a repeat from 2006. She was a fantastic choice. She has a powerhouse voice and a sincere-but-commanding stage presence. Sandi was joined by the Baltimore Symphony, dancers from the Baltimore School for the Arts, and some of Baltimore's best theatrical performers (with many a familiar face in the bunch).

In a divergence from years past, however, the BSO also invited the African Children's Choir to join them in the festivities. The African Children's Choir auditions children from Ghana, Nigeria, Rwanda, Uganda, Sudan, Kenya, and South Africa. The children stay in the choir for a year, touring all over the world spreading their mission and cheer, and then return to their homes with the money they've raised from their touring year to fund their education. Many of them are orphaned and all of them are underprivileged. You would never know, though. They were fantastic-- upbeat, smiling, and the cutest things ever. In fact, I leaned over many a time during the concert and whispered ignorantly to the Maestro that I wanted an African choir child for Christmas.

They definitely added to the spectacle that was this year's BSO Holiday Spectacular. This show remains one of my favorite Baltimore Christmas mainstays year after year. If you're looking for a cause to support in your holiday giving, allow me to suggest supporting the African Children's Choir-- especially if you feel remotely convicted about children, Africa, or music. It seems like a wonderful program, and it definitely added a little light to my Christmas.

Check out these darling little artists from Africa, and consider supporting them by donating or sponsoring a child.

It's Christmas Chez Downbeats!

Like I said yesterday, Mama Downbeats cracked open a bottle of Black Wing Cabernet Sauvignon and took to painting my modest little abode while she was here over an extended Thanksgiving holiday. The colors on my walls have already started to warm the place up. I took some pictures with Tydasia iPhone, so the quality isn't perfect, but they're enough that you can get the idea.

Here's my lovely living room. We went with a sage green as an accent wall. I'll probably paint the rest of the living room khaki. We also taken down those awful vertical blinds and put up microfiber drapes.


We went for a terra cotta on the walls in the dining room. They don't go with the hideous green carpet the previous owner put in there, but hopefully that will be gone in a few months, too.


She also painted the foyer the same shade of green that's in the family room. I can't wait to put some stuff on the walls to make the entryway more inviting.


On Saturday, I decided to break open the Christmas decorations. I haven't decorated for Christmas for three years, and even though I wasn't planning on having any gatherings Chez Downbeats at the time, I still felt like making the condo reflect the Christmas spirit.

While I live alone, I still put three stockings up. The other ones can be for Mama and Grandmama Downbeats. I got the reindeer stocking holders from Target three years ago. I couldn't find my stockings, so I bought some new ones from Target this past week. I finished the mantle with some silver garland.


On the hearth, I framed the hurricane and large pillar with the Christmas wreath the lived on my front door last year.


A co-worker of mine gave me her old Christmas tree. It's only 4.5 feet, but it was big enough to do the trick. I topped it with my red tin star and my red, blue and silver glass ornaments. It reminds me of Charlie Brown's Christmas tree... only not as sad.

Wino Wednesday [the "prodigal daughter returns" edition]

I know it's been a long time and it seems as if I've abandoned my loyal readership. It was nice getting e-mails from lots of you making sure everything was okay. I knew it had been too long however when my MOTHER of all people said,

"You don't blog anymore. I know I start projects and don't finish them a lot, but I expected you to have more sticktoitiveness."

Wow. Mama Downbeats but Little Downbeats in her bloggy place, didn't she?

The short explanation is that I had a historically awful November. I would start to write things, and everything I would write would permeate with strong undertones of I have no life. I have no friends. I'm a horrible musician. I'm a horrible employee. I'm going to die alone. I didn't want to subject anyone else to my deep dark place of self deprecation, so I'd delete the posts and fade back into obscurity.

But I've missed bloggy life. I've missed the interfacing with all of the wonderful people I've met by opening a small window to my life. I've missed having the time to read about what's going on with all of you. But maybe being a better blogger can be my New Years resolution (even though I don't believe in New Years resolutions). How about I make it a Week-Before-Christmas resolution? Are you all still with me?

And in response to any questions that might be raised from my statements two paragraphs ago: I'm fine. I'm happy. The Maestro and I are doing well. Troy is still the best BFF a girl could ask for. In fact, most of my friendships remain intact to this day. I actually happen to be a good musician, and that sentiment was affirmed this past weekend. I have theatrical work lined up for months. The day job is fine. It has slowed down a little bit, but I still love all of the people that I work with. Maybe it's because we didn't see much sunshine in November, but I'm back to my little upbeat Downbeat self.

Good.

So now on to the libation of the week.


Wherein I pretend to know something about wine to justify my affinity for all things alcoholic

A dear friend of mine works at this awesome wine bar and restaurant called Ironbridge in Columbia. A few weeks back, they had a holiday wine tasting and I had a Saturday free. I bought a lovely bottle of ice wine for my madre and the most deeeeeeeeeeeeelicious bottle of Cabernet.

Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you Step Road's Black Wing Cabernet Sauvignon. The wine tastes like the Australian outback from which it comes. It's bold and heavy on the minerals. You can taste hints of plum and dark chocolate (and might I add that it would go well with both). Visit their website and read all about their conservation efforts. It will make the wine taste that much better knowing that you're drinking wine made by people who care about the Earth that's giving them such a yummy gift.

I took a bottle over to O's as a hostess gift a couple of weeks ago when she had my mother and I over for dinner. It was a perfect compliment to honey-encrusted chicken breast and roasted sweet potatos.

Mama Downbeats loved it so much that she went back to Ironbridge and bought them out of the rest of their supply. Apparently, this Cabernet also goes well with painting my dining room and listening to Christmas carols. More on that later. I promise.

Wino Wednesday

Beer's here! I finally got to pick up the beer that was brewed for me over the summer. I took all of your suggestions into account and named it Stone Ridge Stout. The tasting notes describe this brew as such: "Chocolate malt and roasted barley provide deep rich flavors, combined with cocoa and raspberry."

We're cracking it open tonight after work. I'll let you know how amazing it is!

This is very unceremonial...

...for my 100th post.

But, blogger tells me that I've come back to this site 99 times and actually stuck with something. I should be proud of myself, I suppose. I'm the queen of ideas, but sort of suck at the follow through sometimes. That happens when you're ridiculously busy.

At any rate, I wanted to do something cool for my 100th post. To be honest with you, though, I've been in a really funky mood all week, and I don't really have the energy to be creative right now. I'll do something to celebrate next week.

For now, however, I will leave you with my weekend plans.

*I'll be putting the bloggy box in the mail to Pennsylvania.
*I'll have my nose in this literary gem
*I plan to do a whole lot of this:

*And I have big plans to go to Weber's Farm and spend some quality time with this cutie:


And with any luck, by the time Monday rolls around, I'll be 100% less a neurotic bundle of nerves.

Sisterhood of the Traveling Bloggy Box

So, Kristin over at Give Me A Minute, I'll Think of Something had this brilliant idea a few weeks back. She proposed that some bloggers get to know each other a little better and brighten each others' days by engaging in an exchange of stuff. Stuff being books, treats, pictures, trinkets... whatever.

She wrote this post proposing this awesome idea on a day when I was completely stalking my Google reader, and the second the post went up, I read it and got super excited and e-mailed her right away that I wanted in. Since I was the first person to e-mail her, I got the lucky advantage of being the first lady on the list to get the box. In the last few weeks, we've all e-mailed each other about ourselves... and they all probably think I'm crazy now. They all seem pretty cool, though, and I look forward to seeing what everyone gets. I'm almost done packing the box up again and sending it back to New York, but in the meantime, I figured I'd share with y'all what Kristin was nice enough to send my way down to Baltimore.

Here's the bloggy box sitting on my dining room table.


And the bloggy box when I first opened it. Phew... not a bomb... just lots of goodies!


So Kristin totally hooked me up. In the box, she packed for me:
--A bag of Smartfood popcorn
--Chocolate-drizzled caramel covered popcorn
--Minty hot chocolate
--Halloween shot glasses "for the Maestro and I"
--Gum and some 100 Grand bars
--A bottle of wine (because clearly from reading my blog, she knows my life priorities)
--Two books: I'm starting with reading Queen of Babble in the Big City because I need some levity in my life right about now but I'm getting to the Anna Quindlen title shortly.
--A pumpkin-scented candle
--A notepad of stickies

Here's all of the loot laid out


I've already indulged in the chocolate and caramel popcorn, we enjoyed the wine with some dinner guests last night (who loved it, by the way), and I am knee-deep in the silly Queen of Babble saga. I can't wait to get into everything else, and I'm thoroughly enjoying tooling around Baltimore getting the most fun stuff to ship back up to New York. Thanks again, Kristin, for a fantastic idea that added sunshine to my weekend. Check back here for some more posts about the loot Kristin sent my way and the box's journey across the rest of the country.

October 15 - Blog Action Day does Poverty

Today should be Wino Wednesday, right? Not today. Today is Blog Action Day-- a day in which almost 11,000 bloggers the world over each commit to bring attention to a selective cause to their individual audiences. The topic for 2008 is poverty, and I'm not going to lie... this topic didn't hit as close to home for me as it should. I go out to lunch with my work girlfriends and eat in fun restaurants all the time. I don't know what it's like to go to bed hungry because I don't have money. And honestly, I don't spend enough time thinking about those who do and resolving to help my fellow man. It's easy to think about poverty as some obscure epidemic that only touches the developing world, but I know better. I know that poverty is lurking in my back yard while I sleep comfortably with a full stomach in my little patch of suburbia.

So I felt like this would be as good a time as any to educate myself about just how poverty touches the world around me.

* As of 2007, the poverty rate for the entire US was 12.5%, remaining the same from 2006. (source)
* As of 2006, of the 631,366 living in Baltimore City, 21.5% were living below the povery line. That's around 116,800 people. (source)
* Over 1,000 people will die just this hour the world over from hunger (source)
* Maryland is apparently the least impoverished state in the union, but 100,000 people is still too many (source)
* Each week, over 50,000 people rely on free food from soup kitchens, pantries, and shelters in Maryland alone (source)

I found a few things to do help the hungry at home and abroad

* Print a letter to send to W. asking him to honor the agreement he signed at the 2002 Monterrey Conference and Johannesburg Summit to "make concrete efforts towards giving 0.7% of our national income in aid to poor contries." Most countries have reached that goal already, or have at least made a schedule to have it accomplished on our before the year 2015. Those that have yet to even schedule that goal are Switzerland, Australia, Canada, New Zealand, Japan, and our fine US of A.
* Support local businesses and employers who pay a living wage
* Donate goods to pantries or your time to an organization dedicated to feeding the hungry in order to ensure that the impoverished are being helped year round. Two of those in Baltimore include Moveable Feast and the Maryland Food Bank.
* Throw a party. Seriously. How many parties do I go to in a month for the sole purpose of benefiting the people in attendance? I'm sure you could hold a party with the secondary purpose of feeding the hungry and invite all of your friends to bring food items and money to donate to food banks. In fact, that's definitely going to be the theme for my fall harvest beer-tasting party coming up in a few months. I would encourage you to do the same.

Check out any of the resources that I've linked in this post. That's just a start, but with the advent of the internet came more information on any one topic than we ever wanted to know. That knowledge is power, though. Use it to help those in need around you. And check out the Blog Action Day website. They have links to all of the Blog Action Day posts around the web. I'm sure most people are far more articulate than I am when it comes to talking about poverty. Support and learn from them as well.

A Brief Monologue from My Mother

Setting: On the phone
Time: Yesterday

Madre Downbeats: Are you working today?
Me: Yes.
Madre Downbeats: Well, did you know it's Columbus Day?
Me: I did.
Madre Downbeats: The banks are closed.
Me: Yup, they sure are.
Madre Downbeats: I stopped by the bank, and I thought that my branch had closed down. It wasn't until I got to another branch that I realized that everything was closed yesterday.

God bless her... take her out of civil service for even a few years and she forgets all of those random Federal-ish holidays.

For me, Columbus Day was just a slap in the face. I didn't get any mail, couldn't go to the bank, but still had to go to work and cover three different jobs for yet another Jewish holiday.

You can get a smaller waist line by way of chocolate

There are a lot of things that are at least slightly atypical about the life of the Downbeat and the Maestro. I could bore you with a laundry list, but I won't. Atypical thing #837 that stuck out to me this morning as I woke up is that we're friends with wide array of people from all generations, occupations, walks of life, etc. It makes me feel less out of touch. I like having friends both older and younger than I am to give me better perspective on how others live. And I feel like I learn a lot from having friends that run the gamut of life experiences.

I came to this point of introspection by way last night's social outing. We're friends with a family from Kent Island. Said family is comprised of an almost-21-year-old male and his parents. We're pretty equally comfortable with both generations in this family. They invited us over for crabs (an annual October tradition we seem to have with them) and to see the new (beautiful) house that they're almost finished building. We ate crabs outside on the deck (they have to remind me every hear how to eat crabs with a sharp knife rather than a mallet), then we drank coffee and sang hymns and O Brother Where Art Thou inside.

The evening's hostess reminded me of her favorite (and very magical) dessert. I may be wrong, but somehow I think I would never have procured this recipe from someone in the same demographic as my own.

The Diet Coke Cake

Ingredients:
*A box of chocolate cake mix
*A 12-oz can of Diet Coke
*Cool Whip

Directions:
Empty box of cake mix into bowl. Empty can of Diet Coke into same bowl. Mix with spatula. Spread into a cake pan. Follow heating and baking directions on box (usually 30 minutes at 350-degrees or something like that). Remove, allow to cool, and cut into squares. Apply liberal dollop of Cool Whip.

If you prefer Caucasian cake, you can substitute angel food cake mix and Diet Sprite.

A slice of that bad boy will only hit you up 200 calories. Is that not the most magical thing in the world? No eggs, no butter... just a can of diet soda. It also happens to be the moistest slice of cake I've had. Ever.

It was a lovely end to a crazy busy weekend.

In other news, I've been not-so-officially conserving calories (mostly by being too busy to eat regularly, but cutting out most of the junk when I do), but I feel heads and tails better. If I maintain my lack-of-muffin-top and go to the gym at least twice this week, I'm rewarding myself with a new pair of skinny jeans on Friday. I'll let you know how it goes. And who knows, maybe I'll actually make my oven earn its keep Chez Downbeats and make some Diet Coke cake myself. Every girl needs her chocolate fix after all.

Meme... not to be confused with même

I got tagged in a meme by Angela. Since I'm such an un-cool blogger and haven't been tagged before (as far as I know), I had to Wiki-search meme. Unsurprisingly, that article didn't help me. Well, it taught me how to IPA it, but that's about it. I'm guessing that this thing is just like a survey and I'll do what Angela did and hope that I haven't screwed anything up.

So apparently I'm supposed to say 6 random things about myself that I've never shared with y'all before. Here goes nothing.

1. I have this frivolous desire to be a socialite. Not to go out to clubs and be one of the cool kids, but to be invited to important events with influential people and have my engagement announcement in the society pages of the newspaper. Fortunately for me, no institution like that exists in Baltimore, so I can blame my geography for my silly dream never being realized.

2. I don't like women. With a few exceptions, I didn't have close female friendships until a few years ago. I still find myself forging closer relationships with men and having to be intentional about maintaining friendships with women.

3. I'm a closet music nerd. Like legitimate "classical" music of the Western Heritage. I feel like heaven rings with compositions by Debussy like these two.

4. I can't wait to have babies. Lots of them. I was an only child, so I want an obnoxiously large family. I'm also pretty sure that babysitting for a family with five children (or even three) for an extended period of time could easily reverse that notion.

5. People assume that I have a bad relationship with my father because I never talk about him. Really, I have a great relationship with him. He's just dead, and I don't like pouring salt into open wounds.

6. I wouldn't know what to do with myself if I weren't busy. When I have down time at home, all I can manage to accomplish is a load or two of laundry before falling asleep.

Alrighty... now apparently I'm supposed to tag people.

-Rocketwife
-ExSchutz
-Kristin
-The Spotted Ottoman
-Kyla Bea
-Miss Musical

Meme away, peeps. Unless you don't want to. Fear not... I won't take it personally.

Wino Wednesday Back in Business!

Wherein I pretend to know something about wine to justify my affinity for all things alcoholic

Hey there, ladies and gents!

For this installment, I was going to blog all about how last night whilst sitting on the couch and watching the debate with Troy, I took a swig of Yeungling Porter every time McCain addressed the audience and country-at-large as "my friends." I then realized that clearly I'm probably the only one who thinks that's funny.

So instead, I'm going to tell you all how living in Baltimore is so conducive to my love of all things wine. Maryland has some really fun local wineries, and even though none of them can really make a California Pinot, I take a special pride in my city every time I sip a glass of locally-produced wine.

My favorite place to go, Boordy Vineyards, is a hop-skip-jump from Baltimore city. Nestled in the hills in of Baltimore County on a historic farm, Boordy is one of Maryland's oldest wineries. They offer tours and tastings on-site daily and have a stocked wine shop. I love that I can walk into any wine store around the area and pick up a bottle if that's what pleases me.

My favorite Boordy wines are the ones that don't take themselves seriously at all. They call them "Just for Fun" wines, and I give them with reckless abandon as hostess gifts. As the weather is getting cooler, I will undoubtedly pick up a bottle or two of Spiced Wassail every month. This sweet, spiced red wine gets me in the mood for fall-- especially if warmed on the stove with a few cinnamon sticks.

Go here to check out stores in Maryland that carry Boordy wines. And the grounds of the vineyard itself are great to come and visit regardless of where you call home.

The hardest my brain has had to work since a MUSC 302 exam

I opened A Chorus Line this past weekend, and I must say that I'm so relieved to have opening night over and done with. It's been an extremely rewarding experience, but it's also been an exhausting one.

I work for a small theatre company, and as a result, everyone on staff wears a lot of hats. For the past two or three weeks especially, there have been a few of us running around like chickens with their heads cut off. And that's doing administrative business. Then comes showtime.

So when I got this gig at the good ol' Bawlmer thee-yater, I had a fair amount of experience as a musician, and a fair amount of experience as a theatre performer, but not really much as a music director. I'd watched people conduct before, but I hadn't really done much of it myself. For the past two years, I've been in a music directing trial-by-fire and have finally started getting kind of relatively decent at it. I've also worked with relatively the same personnel, so we've gotten to know each others' styles, strengths and weaknesses.

I'm not sure if I'm a glutton for punishment or just like a challenge, but apparently I waited until this show to pull out all of the stops. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I decided to conduct from the piano while playing 1st keyboard. Let me explain a little something to you that you might not know about good old Downbeats. My degree is in voice. I'm a singer who happened to take piano lessons for 14 years and then major in voice because I realized that I hated practicing piano for hours on end. My skills fell by the wayside in college, and started to get a little better of the past few years as I've been sitting behind a piano rehearsing theatre and teaching private voice lessons. I'm still by no means anywhere near as good as the pianists I hire.

Imagine just waking up in the morning with mittens on your hands and a raging hangover. That's how I play the piano in my most lucid of moments. Somehow, though, high school jazz band taught me to fake my complete unwillingness to play all of the notes on the page, and I can actually manage to play most of the score well enough to get by. That would be all fine and good if I wasn't CONDUCTING. AT. THE. SAME. TIME. I no haz that kind of hand-eye coordination. So this past week, working with new musicians and trying to land a plane while playing the piano drunk and making last minute fixes to the cast, my brain has completely short circuited.

As a result, I don't want to see words or music in print again until Friday. By then, hopefully the grey matter will have returned to semi normal. This will be all of the exercise my head needs from the atrophy it's experiencing not being in school for five years at least.... seriously.

Guess what happens tonight...

We open!

I wasn't sure it was going to happen. We put a show with original Broadway choreography on stage in 6 weeks on five 3-hour rehearsals a week. Earlier in the week, it was looking really rough earlier in the week, but stuff really came together last night at our final dress rehearsal. And now we are ready to open a show for which i'm extremely proud ot have been an integral part of.

And jjust think... once we get this baby opened, I can return to the world of the blogosphere.

An Awkward Encounter

So as I've mentioned, I'm knee deep in tech week for my latest show. We have our final (and open) dress rehearsal tonight. Needless to say, this week in every production, tensions run high. I've been surprisingly not too stressed, but I haven't really seen anyone (Maestro included) outside of the office and the production this week.

So of course, I'm all about running out as soon as we get out at 11:15 pm last night to hit our weekly Wednesday night haunt so that I can see somebody... ANYBODY... who is not associated with this show for even five minutes. By the time I got there, my food was cold and The Maestro and Troy were ready to go home. They obliged me... let me eat my cold calamari and gulp down a beer, and then we stood outside for awhile as we were saying goodbye. Just as we were all about to go our separate ways, a large, inebriated man approached our cluster of friends and stood in the middle of us. For 45 seconds, he just stood in front of Troy, not looking at anyone, acting like he was supposed to be there. When he finally broke his freeze, he did it to move with a purpose right towards me. He kept coming forward... I took a step back and held the Maestro's hand a little tighter.

And then he looked at me and said, "The thing is..."

Me: The thing is what?
Weird man: Can I ask you something?
Me: Alright...
Weird Man: Can I smell your hair?
....awkward silence....
Me: No.
Weird Man: Come on! Why not. Not just the ends over here...?
He takes a step closer and reaches out toward me. I step back.
Me: NO!

Then Weird Man proceeded to look behind him to the woman who had just snuck out of the bar to grab a smoke (sidebar... OH HOW I LOVE SMOKE-FREE BARS IN BALTIMORE!) and said, "I would ask her, but white girls just don't got that smell." And with that he hobbled off.

I really don't know how to handle that situation... still... almost 12 hours later. But white girls, apparently you don't have that smell. Whatever that smell may be.

Short story long, this is my plea to Sheila Dixon to clear the riff-raff out of Fells Point. If you do, Mayor Dixon, you could consider it the best Christmas present ever. Thanks bunches!

Parties for Good Causes

The last two weekends, I've been invited to parties with ulterior motives for goodness, and both of them have inspired me to be a little less selfish in my celebration.

Two weekends ago, a close family friend had a birthday party. She throws a big shindig every year for her girlfriends, and this is the first year that I've been able to join along. She's very socially and politically conscious, and tries to add an educational component to each of her parties. This year, before the festivities really got underway, she invited her OB/GYN to come down and give everyone a little talk on how to detect and prevent breast cancer. Before I knew it, I was sitting in a basement surrounded by middle aged women learning the correct way to administer a self breast exam. When I thought about it that way, I'll admit I was more than a little weirded out. But once I stepped back from the situation and thought about it, I realized how selfless that act really was. That my friend wanted to celebrate her birthday by getting the people who matter to her together and teach them life-saving skills.

Just when I thought that I was done with the do-gooding, I was invited to attend a party last week to benefit a campaign at the Maestro's main gig. I love a party just like the next girl, but occasionally I do start feeling like being the Maestro's arm candy is my third full-time job. This party was different, though. One of the Maestro's co-workers actually opened up her home to have a cocktail party for a worthy cause. This isn't the first time that she's done it either. She threw a huge fête for her 50th and requested that all of her guests give money in her honor to the annual fund of their organization.

I don't think that I've ever been that unselfish in my life. Every November I get annoyed by all of the commercialism surrounding the secular Christmas that we celebrate in this country and flirt with the idea of giving alternative gifts to my friends and family. Who knows... maybe this year I flirt a little harder with the idea because of these two awesome ladies.

I do still exist... really!

I know I've been MIA. I kind of apologized after all, remember? Well it wasn't really a proper apology, but I have still felt bad nonetheless and missed all of my bloggy friends.

I'll be brief because I'm in the midst of tech week, but here are a few updates:
1. We still don't know who gave us the flowers at the office, but we've narrowed it down to the two newest members of our office staff. One's an older man and one's a middle-aged woman. My bet is on the woman, but everyone in the office has a different opinion.

2. The Maestro informed me that apparently the beer that I won at auction is completed! I named it from a suggestion that was left in the comments, and I should be having a beer tasting party Chez Downbeats within the next couple of weeks. After it's unveiled at the party, I'll let you all know how it went here.

3. I'm taking part in an exchange of stuff that is aptly named the Traveling Bloggy Box of Goodness that this cool chica named Kristin thought up. When I get my box, I can promise you a super exciting post about all of that specialness.

4. I haven't updated you on my home improvement exploits as of late, but I can tell you proudly and with certainty that my house is still clean and pretty. I've entertained friends from work at girlfriends for wine and crackers more than once in the past few months. That in itself is a small victory. I got a new sliding glass door for the door going out to the balcony. It's very pretty, but I must insist that none of you ever use Home Depot to get anything installed in your house ever. Love the door, hated the service. I killed 2.5 of the 4 plants that I got in July. One of the azaleas I think just hated its placement in the sun. The large elephant-eared greens I bought are probably just dying off with the colder weather. Still, my balcony was less than pretty, so when Mama Downbeats was in town the week before last, she bought some gorgeous mums to put in my Chinese goldfish pots. I'll take some pictures and show you later.

5. Finally, I'm in tech... as I've probably mentioned ad nauseum. As a result, I am completely incapable of concentrating on anything other than breathing and putting a quality show up on stage. While this process has been relatively drama free, it's still been pretty high pressure and stressful. It's gonna be a great show, though... probably one of my proudest since I started music directing a few years back.

But there's what I've been up to. Tell me, what's been going on in your lives? Anything new and exciting?

iPhone Flick

I loves me some babies in the thee-yater. Soooo cute. And his presence
kept me from committing homicide. Babies save lives, ladies and gents.

iPhone Flick

I'm going cross-eyed looking at this.

Does this make me a capitalist?

I know, I know... I'm imagining all of your disappointed little faces right now. The pre-tech week stress is upon me and I have neither had the time to write nor to really keep up with my favorite blogs in my Google reader. I trust that you all will forgive me... especially after we put on a production of A Chorus Line that's the bomb-diggity.

...I can't believe I just said "bomb-diggity."

Moving right along, I am sharing a cool little opportunity for any women out there who love either free things and/or handbags. There's this new site that's launching in a few weeks called Handbag Planet. To celebrate, they're giving away 24 free handbags: one every hour on their launch date. All you have to do is go to their homepage and give them your e-mail address. You don't even have to pay for shipping if you win. And the more girlfriends (or bag-loving-boyfriends, whatever the case may be) that you tell, the more chances you have to win.

So what are you waiting for? Go to Handbag Planet and fight me for a free bag. I double dog dare you.

While we're on the topic of October 15, don't forget what else is happening that day.

And now I return you to your regular programming of me being silent on the internetz until my show opens. I'll be back... I promise. If you're looking for something to read in my absence, might I suggest Jamie over at Oh! How Lovely! Whilst stalking following her on Twitter, I was wisened to this whole free handbag business in the first place.

Wino... Thursday?

Ladies and gentlemen, first a note from your editor...
...yeah, at least I'm making an effort. This is the first time that I've attempted to blog on a regular basis while I'm knee-deep in a production. It would be simpler if I just showed up to rehearsal and played the piano and taught people to sing. It would be simpler if I didn't have a full time job during the day. It would be simpler if I didn't have house guests this week. Alas, none of these happens to be the state of my affairs, so you're getting Wino Wednesday a day late. Please accept my humblest of apologies.

And now, on to the libations....


Wherein I pretend to know something about wine to justify my affinity for all things alcoholic

Sometimes I like wines that aren't made from grapes at all. A few years ago, I didn't even know that such a thing existed. Last Autumn, though, I was shopping for wine to bring to a soirée at the Maestro's house and happened completely accidentally across a bottle of Proshyan's Pomegranate Wine. It looked interesting, and it wasn't too expensive, so I picked it up. I figured that if it was half as good as the pomegranate juice you can get in grocery stores, that it wouldn't be a complete wash. The bottle boasts that it's a "semi-sweet red wine," so I really didn't know what to expect. When I got to the party, some of the other guests were intrigued, too, a friend convinced me to crack it open first. Let's just say that I should've bought at least two or three bottles for this crowd. We went through that bottle like someone was paying us to.

The wine definitely smells and tastes like fruit, but not like juice. It's smooth on the tongue, but not overly sweet or syrup-y. It's enough like a traditional wine that it's equally appropriate for pre-dinner cocktails, table wine, or a post-dinner treat. I recently picked up a bottle on my way to O's house in DC. They're the folks who introduced me to Ravenswood Zinfandel, so I wasn't sure if they'd think that the bottle screaming "POMEGRANATE" was too unrefined for their discerning palates. When we cracked the bottle open, however, O gave a resounding "MMMMMMMMM!!!!!!" after her first sip. And Troy, by no means a wine drinker, practically had the whole bottle to himself.



Proshyan's Pomegranate wine is a product of Armenia, but you can buy it pretty easily state-side (at least in Maryland, I've seen it in most wine shops... and I go to a lot of wine shops), but you can buy it online too right here. It reminds me of Autumn, and I'm a seasonally-minded person, so I don't really bring it out until September. They do, however, have a white pomegranate wine, too, that's supposedly not as "juicy" as white zinfandel. It can be served chilled. I haven't tried it, but if that's your thing, I would recommend it just based on the red version.

I hope you're enjoying whatever it is that you're sipping on these days!

Next up on the social balance game...

I'm going to just come out and say it. I have too many friends. I'm not saying that to toot my own horn or to make myself sound popular. In fact, my packed social calendar is probably detrimental to my closest relationships. It's certainly detrimental to my (at many times non-existent) relationship with my own family.

I'm a social pack rat. I meet people. We become fast friends. I try my darndest to stay in touch with them. But because there are so many people I consider friends, my time outside of the office and theatre is constantly spent trying to spend time with these people. Catching up on old times. Attempting to forge new memories. I make a rotation of people I need to see before the end of the calendar year, and I probably get to 60% of the list. With each passing year, people fall off of my social radar simply because I have no time to invest in a relationship with them, and I feel defeated.

And then there's the Maestro. When we started dating 3.5 years ago, we thought we had a lot of mutual friends. We were only half right. We had a lot of mutual friends, but we had a lot of people in our lives who weren't in that middle section of the Venn diagram. So now all of the Maestro's close friends are my close friends and vice versa. At least the friends who made it through tree-shaking eliminations, that is. So I went from having a few high school friends, and a few more college friends, and music friends, and theatre friends, and musical theatre friends to having to add to that the Maestro's friends. And then we got couple friends and I almost wanted to kill myself. And now that I've stepped back from the ledge, I still find myself ridiculously overwhelmed trying to fit them all in. I might get shot or condemned or whatever for saying this, but I think that being super social can actually be just as lonely as having no friends at all.

This weekend past was the last free weekend before the madness of promotional performances, community outreach, tech rehearsals, and performances for me. It happened to fall in line with the last free weekend before the Maestro's ever-expanding concert season starts. We had plans to go to Kent Island on Friday to visit some friends who are building a new house. If you follow me on Twitter, you might remember on Friday the saga of the 7.5 mile Bay Bridge backup (try saying that three times fast) that caused us to stay in Baltimore instead. We did find a new watering hole that excites me and accidentally bumped into good friends. That little accident scratched them off the list of people to spend QT with before Christmas.

After a four-hour rehearsal on Saturday, I had an evening scheduled to the minute intending to scratch a few more names off the list. I went from a birthday crab feast to dinner with a whole bunch of girls. At said dinner, when I explained why I wasn't particularly hungry but happy to be there nonetheless, one of my dinner companions remarked on how it sounded like I was trying to do too much and say yes to too many people.

Oh friend. How wrong you are! I spend most of my day saying "no" to people I love and care about. I turn down more invitations and proposals than you'll ever know. And still, my heart breaks from this attrition of good quality friends and professional contacts. I guess if I quit theatre or quit my job I could keep up with people better. But then I'd be poor and angry and unfulfilled, and that wouldn't do anyone any good.

So for now, I'll keep on trucking through my list of people to see. I'll try to not accept any applications for new friends. Unless they're bloggy friends, that is. I'm all up for some more of those (hint, hint: De-lurk and say hello some time! It'll brighten my day, I promise you). And next up on the social balance game? Maybe seeing some of my family before Thanksgiving. There's wishful thinking for you.

iPhone Flick

I've been a negligent blogger because I've been teaching these
delinquents how to sing in a straight line. Wino Wednesday should be
back next week if I haven't pulled my hair out by then.

Doing my part

If you're a blogger, you should follow the link and consider joining, too. Change starts with words, and bloggers sure have a lot of those. Wouldn't you agree? And don't forget to come back here on October 15 to see how poverty affects Baltimore and the rest of the world.

I was in the presence of Clair Huxtable, and all I got was this lousy blurry picture

Yes, indeed... that blurry picture is, indeed, Phylicia Rashad at a podium. How on Earth did I manage to get in her presence, you may ask? A few weeks back, a friend passed me the Kennedy Center magazine with a free concert circled. She asked me to pass it on to the Maestro thinking that he'd either like it or know people who would be interested. The concert was entitled the 105 Voices of History, and it was comprised of singers from all of the nation's HBCUs. It was like kismet because a day later, the Maestro got an e-mail from a friend who was intimately involved with the event inviting us to the VIP reception ahead of time. Yes, yes, my boyfriend is a big deal!

I generally hate driving into the Kennedy Center. They charge you $17 for concert parking, so I generally Metro in. The Maestro figured that we didn't want to Metro in our black-tie-optional fabulousness, so he sprung for parking. I'm so grateful that we went to the VIP reception. Since we did, we didn't have to wait in line for the free tickets. By the time we arrived at 4:15 pm, the line was seriously around the entire Center for people trying to get into the 6 pm concert. We went upstairs to the Terrace Restaurant and sipped wine and munched on really tiny appetizers while we rubbed elbows with choral directors. We were simultaneously subjected to a bunch speeches from people (mostly corporate sponsors) who helped the night happen.

With 20 minutes to spare, we were kind of famished and wound up running to the KC Cafe to grab a more substantial meal. I ate chicken fingers in my ball gown. This is a fact for which I am very proud. It's something I can cross off of my bucket list.



The concert was actually sung very well. Those 105 singers, I'm guessing, are mostly music majors. They sang music composed by dead white guys (Handel, Haydn, et al), music composed by black guys writing in the classical Western style, and spirituals and gospel songs. It would've been the perfect length if there wasn't so much talking in between. I'm not talking about the banter in between sets from Ms. Rashad. That was heavenly. I'm talking about all of the pomp and circumstance from all of the other people. I understand that it's necessary. Corporations donate money to the arts and they want to be recognized for it so that people go out and buy their stuff. It still made for a lengthy evening with no intermission.

We still left with smiles on our faces, as you can see.



Especially towards the end, the 105 Voices of History Choir sang some of my favorites. Especially this one with the composer at the harp:



I was really honored to be invited (even if it was at the Maestro's arm candy... that's practically my third job), and hope to go again next year. I'm sure by then, they will have ironed some of the kinks out. I look forward to hopefully going again next year. It sounds like they're going to make it an annual kind of thing.

The case of the mystery flower bandit

When I walked into work this morning, there was a vase of lillies, carnations, and baby's breath in a vase sitting outside of my closed office door. A few minutes later, upon walking around to the rest of the office, it came to me that all of the women in our office were given similar vases as well. No one who works in the office daily fessed up to giving us the flowers.

We all sat around speculating as to who they could possibly have come from. The only conclusion that we collectively came to was that they were from was a former employee who used to give people flowers from her garden unsolicited. She was a sweet woman, but a little... off. She left a few weeks ago, and we haven't really heard from her since.

Finally, one of my co-workers sent this e-mail out over the server:
Good morning everyone, I hope you all had a wonderful weekend.

This morning when we arrived at work, all of the ladies of [company name redacted because I don't want any crazies showing up and knocking down my office door] found beautiful flowers placed on their desk or in front of their office door.

We haven’t determined who the kind person is that decided to brighten up our morning with the flowers, so this email is a big THANK YOU to that person!

If you would like to come forward, that would be great to thank you in person. If not, just know it was a kind and surprising gesture!

Thank you.

She's a lot more diplomatic than I, because my interoffice e-mail would've looked a little like this:

To everyone--

WHERE DID THE FLOWERS COME FROM?! AT LEAST LEAVE A CARD SO THAT WE DON'T THINK WE'RE GETTING STALKED!

If it did come from one of you, though... um... thanks!

Love,

Downbeats

Once the e-mail went out, I almost instantaneously got a phone call from my direct supervisor (who ironically enough works remotely from home) inquiring about the flowers. She didn't know anything about it either, but suggested that it might be the owner or COO of our company. Once I put the bug in her mind that it might be this former employee, she started getting creeped out, too. I promised her I'd call as soon as we got to the bottom of it. Still, no one has come forward.

At any rate, I got the biggest bouqet of flowers, so I'll get shanked first if it really is a crazy nutjob.

I still have the mosquito bites to prove I was there...

I think I've mentioned it a few times in the last few entries, but a good friend (and sister of the Fourth of July groom) got married in an outdoor ceremony on Labor Day.

The ceremony was held outside at a church ampitheatre in picturesque Ellicott City, MD. It seriously couldn't have been a more beautiful day. In fact, I think that people should invite the Maestro and I to their outdoor weddings. We seem to bring good weather with us. The bride's siblings provided the special music during the ceremony on acoustic guitar.



The bride and groom appeared peaceful as they looked on.



The Labor Day bridegroom did two particularly unique things for their atypical wedding:

1. Instead of a guestbook that has the potential to sit on a shelf collecting dust for years to come, the couple asked guests to sign a platter commemorating their day. Every time they have friends over to their new house in North Carolina and pull out this platter, they'll be reminded of their wedding and the people in their lives who love them.



2. Instead of a traditional towering wedding cake, guests enjoyed cupcakes on a tower. I've seen cupcakes on Style network wedding shows recently that have incorporated cupcakes into their dessert scheme, but this still wound up coming off original nonetheless. Cupcakes were yellow with chocolate or white icing and chocolate with chocolate or white icing. When the Maestro asked me what kind of cupcake I wanted, I replied, "The whitest possible cupcake, please!" not realizing how ridiculous I sounded until the words came out of my mouth and several people left the room howling in laughter. The cupcake tower had a huge cupcake with a cake topper at the crest for the couple.



The couple didn't want any big wedding traditions at the reception. There was no garter or bouquet toss, no electric slide. We basically had a picnic on the lawn adjacent to the amptitheatre and the historic Hebron House mansion.

The couple left straight for their Disney honeymoon from the reception. We waited around outside with bottles of bubbles to send them on their way.



The Maestro and I were still smiling by the end of the evening.



I consider that a small victory.

Wino Wednesday

Wherein I pretend to know something about wine to justify my affinity for all things alcoholic

As I mentioned earlier, I spent this Labor Day weekend preparing for and attending my final summer wedding of 2008. I managed to not jump off a bridge, so I'm pretty sure I'll make it through the winter now as long as no one else decides to get married between now and, say, June 2009. When the bride and groom return from their honeymoon in the happiest place on Earth^(TM), they will be relocating to Southern Pines, North Carolina, where the groom recently took a new job. For their thank you gifts at the rehearsal dinner, they presented their wedding party and family with, among other things, some Carolina-indigenous libations. The Maestro played the music for the ceremony, and I coordinated the wedding, so the bride and groom were generous and threw us some bottles as well.

The poison this week? Pink Magnolia from Duplin Winery. Now, I'll tell you-- I don't generally drink anything pink. No white zinfandels or merlots, no French martinis or sex-on-the-beaches. I'm a red wine, craft beer, and Scotch-drinking lady. I've made fun of my own mother for drinking pink wine. A gift is a gift, though, and I had to imbibe. Let me tell you, the stuff is not half bad. If you buy straight from the winery, it's $7.49 a bottle, and you don't even feel like you're drinking Boone's Farm. This wine is sweet, with lots of berry overtones, but it lacks that acrid after taste that a lot of rose wines tend to have. Chilled, it's a really nice wine to sip on a hazy summer night. This self-professed unknowledgeable wine snob even recommends it if you're looking to try something that's not too wine-y or if you're entertaining guests who drink the pink.

The miracle of life

In the time that we've been friends and subsequently more than that, the Maestro has exposed me to many an experience I might not have had in life otherwise. He's predominately responsible for my love affair with Baltimore City, and he also introduced me to the Maryland State Fair a few years back.

I'm not particularly one for produce or livestock on a regular basis. I have, however, come to appreciate the fact that the fair comes around once a year and it's an excuse to eat fried dough and say goodbye-byes to summer. We went to the fair last Friday after work, and since it was raining like crazy, we grabbed dinner at The Still first with the family.

When the rain died down, we finally headed across the street to the fairground to see as much as we could in the time left. We checked out the produce and home arts. That was all fine and good. But then we grabbed some ice cream and headed to the Cow Palace, which is where the magic happens. They have this thing called the "Birthing Center" where they induce pregnant farm animals so that curious onlookers such as myself can observe a new life coming into the world.

This exact scenario played out as we entered the Birthing Center on Friday night. The men watched for a little bit, but then got distracted by piglets in a nearby pen. We all started losing our patience (cows can be in labor for a long time apparently), so we decided to browse the rest of the livestock while we were waiting for this heiffer to pop.

The Maestro found greatest interest with the pigs. He got super excited when he saw one particular pair of pigs sleeping in the same pen. He called them a 21st century couple.



By the time we got back to mama cow, two hooves were protruding from her backside. 30 minutes later, and there was a baby calf lying on ground of the pen with many a happy onlooker. I think they wound up calling the cute little bull calf "Travis."



I'm surprised PETA wasn't outside picketing the farmers for shipping this poor cow into the fair, inducing her labor, and then putting the birth on public display, but it was definitely a really unique experience. I don't think it's convinced me away from buying a cute little biracial baby off the black market and into pregnancy and childbirth on my own accord, but it was a unique experience nonetheless.

My plea to whomever controls the campus budget for next year

I would make a horrible visual artist. I don't find beauty in many random things. As a result, sometimes I confuse exterior art installations for, well, mistakes. Can someone please tell me if these random bricks lying outside of the theatre are someone's college art project?



And furthermore, can someone explain to me why the powers that be at the institute of higher learning where our theatre is housed decided to lay a random amoeba of concrete in the ground surrounded by a moat of decorative stones?



At least they've placed these beautiful/humongous planters outside of the lobby to try to take away from all of the other randomness that is occuring as one approaches the building.



If the college has money to throw around on random patches of "decorative" cement as it appears they do, I would encourage them to throw a little money my way for a brand new freakin' sound system, please and thank you. Just a suggestion.

In other news, I'll be MIA over the Labor Day weekend. Another friend of mine is getting married. Fifth and final of the summer, thank goodness. A wedding recap will undoubtedly be up some time next week because I know you all are quivering in your boots, eagerly anticipating pictures of me and the Maestro cutting up a rug as grandma jumps up and down to hip hop.

Have a happy and healthy Labor Day weekend!

Are you the dream?

"...America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked 'insufficient funds.' But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. So we have come to cash this check — a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice."
--Martin Luther King, Jr.

45 years ago today, a really amazing man gave a momentous speech in front of hundreds of thousands of citizens unhappy with the way that things had been done. These people were tired of the hypocrisy that was being espoused by their leaders, their elders, and their neighbors. So they gathered in Washington, D.C. in droves for a completely non-violent demonstration that culminated in a speech that some might say changed the face of our nation.

While I'm sad that he can't be around to see his dreams come to fruition, I'm filled with an immense pride that so many boxes on Dr. King's dream check list can now be checked off.

"I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character." Check!

"One day... little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers." Check!

"I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: 'We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal." Check. Check. And more check.

45 years later, freedom is ringing from the "prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire," the "mighty mountains of New York," the "heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania" and so forth and so on. To be able to live a life that is a testament to a vision that one remarkable man had in a not-so-distant past that my parents can remember continues to blow my mind. That the color of my skin was neither a hindrance nor a burden to me is a blessing. That I can walk down the street hand-in-hand with my super white boyfriend occasionally takes my breath away in the wake of the fact that my mother went to a segregated high school. That I can call my friends of all colors, shapes, sizes, socioeconomic backgrounds, faiths and creeds my sisters and brothers brings me an amazing joy.

But 45 years later, the work still isn't done. I'm fortunate to live in an environment that is accepting of all people. I know that it's not that way everywhere. Not everyone can marry their soulmate free from a world of intolerance and hatred. Not everyone can be friends with whomever they please. 35 years later, we still fight to keep things like Jena from happening. Hatred still oozes from groups like the Westboro Baptist Church into our everyday lives. But just when we take two steps back, we always take at least one step in the right direction.

So I implore you to not let the day go by without at least remembering where we, as a nation, came from and where we, as a nation, still have yet to go. And after you think on that for a little bit, strive to continue being the dream that Dr. King articulated all those years ago.

If you haven't heard/read that famous speech, or it's been awhile since you have, you can read a full transcription here.

Wino Wednesday

Wherein I pretend to know something about wine to justify my affinity for all things alcoholic

A few years ago, I moved to the west side of town which (among other things) is known for having a fairly prolific Jewish community. Then, I started working at a company with a few Orthodox Jews and got introduced to Kosher pizza, donuts, and even Chinese food. My next-door-office-neighbor shares my fondness for alcohol and taught me early on that most liquor is already Kosher. Wine, on the other hand, is not automatically Kosher for whatever reason (don't ask me why, I don't know... and he wouldn't know either because he knows very little about being Jewish).

Since I live in such a Hebrew-heavy neighborhood, my local wine shop actually features a Kosher wine section. Much to my surprise, it wasn't filled with Manischewitz. This shop (one of my favorites) has free wine tastings on Saturdays throughout the year and offered this delicious moscato awhile back. I tried it, loved it, and served it at the most recent work party I hosted at home.

It's a little sweet, but that's how I like my white wines. If you're looking for a yummy dessert wine, definitely try Golan Moscato. In addition to being delicious (and better than cake), you can also tell your guests that it's made in Galilee. I don't know why, but I feel like it makes me sound intelligent when I drop that fact as I'm serving.

How to vacation on the cheap

I'm baaaaaaaaaaaaaaack! Hopefully someone out there missed me. I must say that this past trip, however mundane some people might think it was, left me recharged. I'm not totally ready to go back to the office, but I'm absolutely stoked about starting rehearsals for A Chorus Line tonight.

Here's a brief (hopefully) recap of the trip with some lessons learned in the process.

We left on Tuesday night after work. The Maestro picked me up, we packed my luggage and clubs in his car and went on our merry way. At about 6 pm on a Tuesday evening, the roads weren't too packed. We headed to Bedford, Pennsylvania and had dinner with some friends from college. We hung around and watched the Olympics with them for a bit, got a tour of their new house, and got back on the road. We arrived in Indiana, Pennsylvania (Maestro's mama's hometown) a little after 11 and found our way to his grandparents' house.

Wednesday, we took our time getting up and Maestro's grandma made us breakfast. In passing, he asked her how long she'd been married to his grandfather, jogging her memory to remind her that today was in fact their 59th wedding anniversary. I'm so glad we kids were around to keep them honest. I lounged around a bit and tried to convince the Maestro's grandfather that Barack Obama doesn't have terrorist ties while Maestro took a walk into downtown Indiana. When we finally got on the road, we drove around for a little bit and then found a Par 3 executive golf course right out of town. Thank goodness it was only par 3 golf... because I haven't golfed in quite awhile. My clubs were dusty and my drive was even dustier. We had fun, nonetheless. We went to a huge church pot luck (300 people... seriously the biggest pot luck I've ever seen in my life) at the Maestro's grandparent's parish. In return for telling the priest that it was their 59th anniversary, he put the Maestro on the spot and had him sing "O Danny Boy" for a riveted audience. The Maestro wasn't pleased, but sometimes you suck it up for the people you love, eh? We came back home and played a round or two of cards with the grandparents and tried to get them to not make out.

Ahhh... young love.


Eventually they came up for air so that I could take a picture with them.


On Thursday, we tried to get an early start so that we could head into Pittsburgh. But by tried, I mean failed, and by "we," I mean the Maestro. We finally headed out a little after noon, and changed plans slightly. We headed instead to Grove City College to visit a friend who had just moved back on to campus for the school year. Clearly, he's getting a lot accomplished at school.



He feigned some excuse about being in some orientation leader skit at school. I'm still thinking about showing his mother and staging an intervention.

We hit the outlets outside the city for a few minutes and then headed back to Indiana to grab dinner with the Maestro's pap pap. Grandma, you see, had abandoned him for the day to go the casinos.

By Friday morning, we still liked one another. This in itself was a small victory as I don't think we'd seen each other that many full days in a row in three months. The Maestro's grandma made us a fantastic breakfast and sent us on our way with a gallon bag full of white chocolate-covered trail mix. I think grandmas secretly want everyone but them to be fat. That woman stuffed me to within an inch of my life over two days. At any rate, we left Indiana and headed for Troy. No, not best friend-of-mine Troy, but Troy, Pennsylvania. It's a pretty long trek, but we took a scenic route and made stops along the way. Noteworthy pit stops were in Punxsutawney (home of Punxsutawney Phil and Groundhog Day) and The Grand Canyon of Pennsylvania. It was a nice leisurely trip.





As we got closer and closer to Aunt Jean and Uncle Dwayne's house, I smelled more pig manure, rode on more dirt roads, and saw more waving Confederate flags than I think I've experienced in my lifetime. My phone lost service, and I'll admit I heard banjos in my head coming after me. When we got to our destination, however, it was great. I haven't seen the stars like I've seen up at their house in years, and it was beautiful to be in the middle of nowhere for a little bit. Aunt Jean cooked us a fantastic dinner and we played a board game and watched the Olympics for a little bit.

When we got up on Saturday morning, we had a hearty breakfast and headed over to a cousin's house and met their new puppies. They were adorable and I begged the Maestro to bring one home. He looked at me like I had crazy all over my face. How can you say no to these little guys, though?



We had one of the most scenic drives home on Saturday. We were a little under the gun, but it was completely worth it.




So what did we learn on our trip?

1. Leave as soon as possible. Being musicians, The Maestro and I are both night owls. We don't have a problem being up late... in fact, we're used to it. Leaving after work afforded us the opportunity to wake up at our first destination. It extended our days of true vacation from three to four solely by getting on the road as soon as we possibly could.

2. Stay with friends and family. We killed two birds with one stone by staying with family: we saved TONS of money that would've otherwise gone to hotel and restaurant bills and got to spend time with friends and family we rarely see. It wasn't our plan to mooch off of people. It was our intention to thank our hosts by taking them out to dinner, but all of them had already made plans to prepare home-cooked meals for us.

3. Don't be afraid to veg out. Not every vacation is about cramming as much as humanly possible into each day. The Maestro and I got a fair amount accomplished, but we also made sleep a huge priority (something we don't get a lot of in our day-to-day lives). I was equally as comfortable in National parks and on the golf course as I was sitting on the couch and walking America's Next Top Model reruns. And I went to bed early (for me) every night to ensure at least 8 hours of sleep.

4. Lay some basic plans, but be flexible. Don't be afraid if it doesn't all get done. This time is supposed to be about relaxing and rejuvenating-- not about crossing line items off a list. We didn't get to Pittsburgh, but we also didn't get upset about it. We found other things to keep us occupied and satisfied.

And there it is, kids. For the price of 3 gallons of gas, and a cheap meal or two on the road, we had an amazingly satisfying getaway. It wasn't a Vegas vacation or trip to Cabo like some of the smart people with money non-musicians I went to school with are enjoying now, but it was perfect for us.