Is Justin Timberlake The New Take Home Chef?

Jordan asked Justin Timberlake to show her a certain dance move from his Like I Love You music video. She had a big presentation to a financial institution she was preparing for and she was sure if she busted out a move it would sell her investment strategy. She was dressed for a run in a t-shirt, shorts and her new Heidi Klum shoes.

In reality, my oldest daughter Jordan does maintain a pretty rigorous work out schedule including running. Holding a Principal position at a major consulting firm she often leads presentations to companies who have large investment portfolios. If she really busted out a move during one it would probably be the first time in the history of the corporate boardroom.

 She inquired of JT, how do you do that thing with your feet? JT, who was sitting in the yard by her, reached over and moved her feet with his hands to demonstrate.He turned to my son, Michael and said, "do you have that song?" Michael scrolled through the iTunes a put on something similar, but not by JT.

I turned and shot him the death stare which was really non verbal communication for: “Justin Timberlake is here in our yard and you put on a sound alike? Put on one of my JT cd’s”.

The smell of smoke drifted through our yard and JT said, “ I feel like ribs. I make great ribs. If I can borrow your car I’ll run to the grocery and get some cooking supplies.” I handed the keys to my freshly waxed 2011 Ford Edge. I wanted to ask him if he wanted me to tag along but I didn’t.

He started the car. I came out to show him how to work “my Ford Touch” but I couldn’t find him. Then I heard the car driving down the street with the music blaring, so I guessed he figured it out on his own.

Then we realized we needed baking potatoes. I wanted to call or send a text but what normal person had Justin’s cell phone number?

Then I thought of a very gifted child hood schoolmate, Louis Resto. He’s got a Grammy and an Oscar for his song writing with and for Eminem, surely he has JT’s number.No answer.

In reality, I am a huge Justin Timberlake fan. I do own a 2011 Ford Edge. I did go to school in Garden City and was a friend of Luis Resto's big brother Mario. Their whole family was quite musical and have made successful careers for themselves and still live in the Detroit area. I just remember Luis as Mario's little bro who got shooed away when the big kids were hanging out.

Where is Curtis Stone, The Take Home Chef when you need him? So I got in the other car, thinking I would go get the potatoes myself. Driving out of the subdivision I spotted black smoke billowing in the sky from a wildfire. The further I drove I noted several small fires around.

I should have been freaked out, given the recent wildfire disasters this season. But I reasoned that since it was not a windy day the likely hood of the fires growing out of control was slim. Then I saw flying embers landing on lawns and  scantily dressed people were running around quickly stomping them out.

In reality, this Midwestern girl has been officially freaked out by the recent wildfires in Austin. I've gotten way more up close and personal with the phenomenon than I ever planned. Fire period has always scared me. I don't even like to light matches. During the fires we experienced in this hellishly hot, drought ridden state I felt like the whole place could burst into flames with the slightest provocation.

Realizing my family was at home with no vehicles (I had one, Justin had the other) I decided  to turn around to make my way home, in case we were evacuated again.  Just then I came upon a couple of baby deer all snuggled beside the road sleeping like a bunch of curled up cats, exhausted from running from the small fires.

When I got home the van lines was parked across the driveway, loading up.

Now doesn’t that just figure!? A moving truck is loading up all of our household belongings. Meanwhile Justin Timberlake is on his way back to my house with ribs to barbecue just when Michael got the right CD playing. Don't load that Weber grill, what ever you do.

The only way this impromptu dinner party could get any more complicated is if those spotty wildfires flare up and merge and head towards the whole kitten caboodle.

Back in the day we called that Dream Weaving, made famous by then (1970's) foxy Gary Wright. No market grabbing name change for this guy, there were just too many musical "Garys" in that era. Not to be confused with my 8th grade boyfriend, Gary DiGeorgio.

In reality, I'm not sure why my older kids were in my dream about Austin, since they live in Chicago. I do know I desperately miss them at times since we moved far far away.

I have no idea why Justin Timberlake happens to be in my yard, or where the car he must have came in is. This is Austin after all, not NYC. He couldn't have taken the subway.

I have seen deer curled up like kittens sleeping by the road, but that would have been in Northern Michigan on a lakeside road.

And believe me when I say I'd love for the Justin Timberlake to come show my buttoned up business daughter a few moves she could bust out during a board meeting and get the  corporate investing community buzzing.

I have no doubt JT knows a little something about serving up great ribs since opening Southern Hospitality in his hometown of Memphis, Tennessee.

In reality, I don't usually remember dreams, and have no idea what dream interpretation really means. I can see how all of the things floating around my brain mix together to make a pretty disjointed  but fun story.

At least I didn't wake up on Dexters table getting all Dexterized.

Throat Punch Thursday- The Power Hungry

Every Monday I drive downtown to meet my tribe of Austin Sketchers at various locations in the city. Finding The Tea Embassy, I rode around the block to scope out parking and had the good fortune to pull my Ford Flex right up in front of the historic Victorian building.

I took care to fit right into the spot so there would be a good space left for any of my classmates.
Whipping my credit card through the meter, I programmed the time I wanted and printed out the sticker. Walking back to my car, I stuck it in the windshield.

I pulled out my bag with my art supplies, tucked my purse partially under the drivers seat and locked her up tight.

 I stood out on the sidewalk with the other ladies, looking around trying to decide if I would like to draw that day. We were on a quiet tree lined street that was a mix of residential and businesses, with lots of interesting subjects for sketching.

I noticed the meter reader  checking out the car in front of mine, but didn’t give him much thought since I was confident I had taken care of all that business. We all chatted  like a bunch of hens and I watched the meter guy begin to circle my car with his hand held computer. It was hot and he was wearing his uniform shorts with black socks and I felt bad for his skinny chicken legs in the baggy shorts.

It occurred to me he was really giving my car a thorough inspection. He was punching buttons like mad on his computer, peering in my windows, inspecting my license plate. I thought, he probably thinks I’m an idiot for leaving my purse in the car. Then, what is his deal, did my sticker fall off of my license plate?
wondered, is that guy looking to jack my car?

Breaking away from my group, I walked down the block a bit and cheerfully hollered, “ I hope you’re not thinking of stealing my car”. The little man looked up at me sharply and I could see right away, there was no humor in him at all. “Is there a problem with how I am parked”? I inquired as pleasantly as I could.

With tightly pursed lips and a furrowed brow he stared at the screen of his little computer. He began tapping his foot and emphatically said, “ yes, as a matter of fact there is”.  Ot oh, major attitude.

He tipped his head back and peered down his nose at me, obviously satisfied that he had wiped the smile off of my face.

Oh, shit.

Meter Maid: “My records indicate that you have already had two warnings”? He said with a sense of severity.

Me:  “I don’t know what you mean, a warning for what”? I truly didn’t know what he was talking about.

Meter Maid: Looking at me like I’m lying through my teeth. “ Your sticker is not affixed to the windshield properly”.

Me: “Oh, you’re right, I did get a warning once because I just laid the receipt on my dashboard, like we do in Chicago. But I peeled the paper and stuck it on the window. Did it fall off”?

Meter Maid: “It’s on the wrong side! It clearly instructs you to affix to the curb side of the windshield”.

At this point my art instructor and a few of the ladies have gathered to see what this fellow was so worked up about.

Me: I’m thinking, seriously? Is this dude jerking me around? But I said, “Sorry, I didn’t realize that”.

Meter Maid: “It’s clearly written on the sticker (in teensy weensy lettering). You don’t expect me to have to walk on the street to do my job”.

Enlarged for your enjoyment

Wait one hot second. He had circled my car at least 4 times. We weren’t exactly on a bustling street. Plus, if you’ve ever been to the Austin area...these people are crazy! I see people riding their bikes ON THE FREEWAYS here. I never thought for a minute they’d be worried about walking by a parked car  on the street.

Seeing that I’m beginning to get exasperated, my friend decided to intervene in her soft gentle way. “This is my friend from Michigan, she’s new here. She just didn’t know she was supposed to do that”.

Meter Maid: Stabbing his bony finger frantically at his small computer, “ Our records state she has been warned twice in the last 4 months, it’s very simple to read the directions”.

This guy was like a dog with a bone, he just would not let it go. While I had thought he looked like a dork in his dress shorts and black socks, now that I had met him up close I thought he looked like a constipated, dried up bastard. Hydrate buddy, hydrate. And fiber. These are your friends.

Me: “Can’t I just move it to the other side right now”?

Meter Maid: He looked up and saw my whole tribe gathered around (they actually include some rather formidable and well known Austinites). “Welllllll, I guess you could this time, unless you want a $20 ticket”.

So, I did. I moved it. And he made more notes in his computer and then scurried off like the weak little rat bastard he was.

I joined my group and one of the sweet proper older ladies, a life long Texan, leaned over and said, “don’t worry honey, you know what they say about men who behave like that. They usually are lacking in that department” pointing to the area below the waist.

Then another of my lovelies chimed in using her deep Texan drawl, “That poor little bastard was just as sour as he could be. He was just trying to feel powerful at your expense”. Another one put in her two cents, “ we got your back sweetie. We know where a woman’s place really is” and we all just busted out laughing.

The week before we were sketching at the capital building and one of these retired Texas blue blood gals had said, “ Ann always said a woman’s place was in the house...the Big House (referring to Ann Richards, the former  governor of Texas). This Meter Maid probably had no idea that he was tangling with  a gang of women who were old and seasoned enough to have pushed Ann Richards straight into her position in the ”Big House“ years ago.

I am among some of the younger members of the group.

It’s nice to know they have this petite little conservative Republican’s back.

I have no issue with this guy doing his job. And I wouldn't want his job. No one needs to be quite so condescending or downright nasty when dealing with people. A simple wave and, "did you know you're supposed to put the sticker on the curb side"? would have been a nice gesture, still within the bounds of doing his job.

So, I do declare on this day that box checking monkeys like my meter reader deserve the Throat Punch award.



I Want A Lover Who Won't Drive Me Crazy

Picture me, years ago, driving down I-96 in Detroit in my cherry red Lincoln Navigator with my son and his friend Johnny. The CD changer flips to the CD they had put in there while waxing my car earlier in the day. On comes a vile song, the most consistent lyric starting with the word F*^#. Without warning I deftly pressed eject, popped it out, rolled down the window and gave it a toss.

<----Johnny

The boys were aghast. “That was Tom’s CD”!  Then Johnny came on with the zinger, “ It’s not like you don’t listen to pornographic music Mrs. Nault, what do you think Jack & Diane is all about”? I insisted it was about two American kids growing up in the heartland, not necessarily teenage sex. Maybe heavy petting but...

It was 1996 and the debate raged on between Johnny and me, he insists the little story ‘bout Jack & Diane is all about teenage sex. Is this proof that I’ve spent way too much time with John Mellencamp playing?

Way back in the day he went by the name of Johnny Cougar. My childhood friend spent many years  traveling as a roadie with the band. That was a wild bunch and my friend ended up needing a liver transplant 2 years ago due to all their hard living on the road.

John developed his persona along the way these past few decades. He’s aging well, can still command the stage and he’s tweaked most of his old songs. You know, life goes on...long after the thrill of living is gone...walk on. So they rock and they roll, let the bible belt come and save my soul. Hold on to 16 as long as you can, changes come around real soon make us women and men.

Last Saturday I was pecking through the weekend news and saw the old man would be playing in Austin that very night. We splurged on tickets, floor seats in the very cozy Austin City Limits Moody Theatre.
We rolled ourselves into town and went to Second Bar & Kitchen to get the pump primed for the concert. A very stiff Gin & Jam got me fired up for the night. We walked on down to the W Hotel, up the side stairs to the theatre.

It’s a cool set up with an open balcony running along the side of the entry doors. The wall was punctuated with it’s very own Tito’s Bar, lines already 10 deep. The theatre was cozy, it didn't look like there was a bad seat in the house. I found my seat, on the floor towards the back. The chair was comfy but the rows were pretty snug.Servers even came around to take drink orders.

It was definitely a mixed crowd age wise. Seated in front of me to my right was a middle aged menopausal woman.She looked like she was ready for fun as pulled one of those oriental looking fans from her purse and commenced to fan herself the whole night. I guess she really likes John.

The only time this woman sat was before the concert started

Now I like to have fun as much as the next person. Mellencamp kicked off the night with some classics and the crowd was on their feet. The row was so snug that when I stood up my hip bones hit the chair in front of me, and I'm on the petite side. When the show shifted to some of the newer, slower songs, most everyone sat down.

Make that everyone except the lady seated between me and the stage. I paid a premium for our seats, on the floor, to not be able to see a thing unless I was standing up? About half way through the concert, after my telepathic signals I sent to her (saying sit down) were totally ignored I got pretty frustrated. My Redneck blood just about got the best of me.

I casually unscrewed the top off of my water bottle, cocked my arm back and took aim for the back of her head. Years of practice with a sling shot have left me with excellent aim. Just as I was about to fire one off, my husband had the sense to snatch my ammunition right out of my hand.

Thwarted, I stomped off to stand against the back wall to enjoy the rest of the concert.

There is definitely a more spiritual side to John showing up in his new music. God, regret and wisdom seems to be of more importance to him now.Overall, it was fun. He didn't play enough classic Mellencamp to suit me. I especially missed "I Want A Lover Who Won't Drive Me Crazy", which has been my theme song off and on during 30 years of marriage.

And he still has a heafull of his crazy hair.

You Can't Google Reality

I thought I would be spending so much more time in the great outdoors when we moved here to Austin.  I considered myself prepared. I had Googled, Facebooked &Tweeted with fervor to find out what all the Austin hype was about.

I spent more hours on City-Data than I did studying my last year in college. With my MacBook Pro at hand there wasn’t much I hadn’t  “virtually” explored about the area. Google maps helped me to understand where things are located in relation to the airport and the city. I armed myself with information on school systems, commutes and the best BBQ joints.

It really goes to show you, that you can have a lot of head knowledge about a subject, but the “doing of it” is a whole different enchilada. You can spend an enormous amount of intellect and time preparing for something only to find there are always aspects that didn’t come into consideration.

We had been warned about how hot it gets. I thought, maybe so but in Michigan we endure freezing temperatures for 5 months, resulting in cabin fever. We arrived in Austin on July 28th and attacked assimilating to our new home with gusto. Donning our sunscreen, we explored the streets of our new neighborhood in the heat. Where is everyone?

Day after day of 100 degree weather. We dug our swim suits out of our suitcases and headed to the community pools. Surely that is where all of our neighbors must be hanging out since they are not in their yards. To our surprise we found we pretty much had them all to ourselves.

We gave up and hibernated in front of the TV watching every HBO and Showtime series known to man. Totally caught up on Weeds, United States of Tara, Dexter and Big Love, the girls were actually anxious for school to start, just so they could converse with another teenager. Because we sure didn’t see any at the pools, or on the streets.

We began to wonder, were our neighbors zombies, waiting for us to wander about with our guards down?

School started. Finally, we met our perfectly nice neighbors and accepted an invitation to the fall kick off neighborhood potluck. I sweated, fretted and cooked for the party. We dragged it all down to the end of the cul-de-sac to meet people. I inquired, "so where was everyone the past few weeks"? Turns out that they were either vacationing or hibernating in their homes because even for Texans, it was just too hot to come outside.

Two-A-Days

The only exception to that rule is if you are a teenage boy. Then it is the time of year you sweat every ounce of your heart out giving your all to the twice a day football practices to which every Texas baby boy is committed to at birth.

Loads of laundry accumulate at a frightening rate when you have 5 people sweating. Weeks pass by and it’s fall, one of my favorite seasons. Unfortunately it’s still 75 degrees every morning when I wake up.

And for 30 days straight I have an allergy headache. I swallow Motrin, Allegra and Sudafed along with my daily vitamin just to make it manageable. I stop at the pharmacy to reload my arsenal. The clerk types in my driver’s license and ever so politely declines my request for more decongestant.

No relief to be had

“I must not have heard you right”, I say. No, I heard her just fine. In Texas they track your purchases of potential ingredients for Crystal Meth and limit said purchases to once a month. No exception for allergy sufferers. Plan B it is, in light of the pain in my head, I send my 18 year old child with her fresh new driver's license number to the store to score for me. Shameless.

It’s Halloween and there is another potluck on the cul-de-sac. I wear my kitty ears headband in the 85 degree heat where my cute painted on cat whiskers quickly make my face look more Heath Ledger as the Joker. After decades of having to cover up our costumes with winter coats to go trick or treating, it’s actually too hot to even have a costume on.

By November I have enjoyed exploring Austin. There are so many fascinating people and places. I can’t say I’ve grown accustomed to multiple underwear changes each day, but I’m coping. I still have a headache. I try to get some holiday mojo going as Thanksgiving approaches.

Now I realize why there is a spike in insurance claims for home fires due to deep frying turkeys in your yard in Texas. It’s because it’s too damn hot to have your ovens on all day for holiday cooking. There have been a few days where I’ve actually not sweated...but in general I’m left wondering, is this never going to stop?

December dawned and it started getting down into the 50’s at night. Hallelujah. Thank you Jesus. The grass stopped growing, a handful of trees changed colors, some leaves dropped. I can finally exclaim, “it’s beautiful”. I’ve worn long sleeves a couple times. I’ve laughed my ass off shopping at J Crew.“Seriously”, I said, “ and when does one wear this $380 leather jacket in Austin”?

It dawned on me that it was time to pull out my exercise clothes and get outside. Last June I paid my last $15 monthly charge at Planet Fitness,  thinking I could eliminate that cost from my budget in Texas, since it was warm enough to go outside all year round! A deciding factor in our move was how much more active we would all be in a warmer climate.

Hike up Mt Bonnell

Christmas comes even though my psyche is having a hard time accepting that it’s that time of the year without snow, ice or even wearing my Patagonia once. Outside we go to hike up the steps of Mt Bonnell where we can gaze at the city of Austin to the east and hill country to the west.

View from Mt. Bonnell

I reach the top of the hill, out of breath and coughing. Wow, I am getting to be a lame old hag if I can’t sashay up this hill without an oxygen tank. That night on the news they make the big announcement. It has arrived, Cedar Fever.

It is the New Year and my headache is gone. Only to be replaced by an annoying ticklish cough along with a stuffy head and very itchy eyes. I look in the mirror each morning and gasp, remember my grandmothers red rimmed eyes at the height of Spring  in North Carolina. Her demon eyes used to scare me something awful, and now I have them.

Which is why I’m sitting on the exam table at the doctor’s office, wondering if I will ever be able to appreciate the great outdoors here. The doctor’s not much of an optimist. Because I’m already on allergy medicine she recommends a nose spray and avoiding nature all together  until the pollen counts come down...months from now! Right around the same time that it starts to heat up around here and the rest of the trees I’m allergic to begin to leaf out.

On the way home from the doctor’s I stop by to activate my gym membership which I had the foresight to buy on a Groupon last month. Looks like the only place I’ll be burning off some calories is inside, on the eliptical machine at the gym.

Just like I would be doing in Michigan. Only I'm in Allergy Hades where I will be perpetually sweating to the oldies. Seems all my research did not reveal I had moved to the allergy capitol of the USA.

Random Sass

ON THE SUBJECT OF PAINTING

I'm not sure which one of them won the bet, but I can guarantee you that here was some kind of wager going on. Despite my protest that I was not going to invest my time, money and talent in painting anything in the home we've leased for 2 years in Austin, they know me too well.

I vowed that I was not going to get overly invested in this home. I certainly haven't made my mind up if I even like Austin, I just know that this is the first week I haven't been a sweaty mess.

102 days. That's how long I made it without unpacking my trusted companions. My brush fits in my hand just so and I love my little  9 inch roller. It's small but mighty and I can paint for miles without splattering everywhere.

My methods are a bit unorthodox. I don't mess with a lot of tape, drop cloths, paper. I paint my edges freehand and move along one wall at a time. I realize most people don't proceed in this matter.

Take my husband. Please. He's driving me totally batty, we don't approach projects from the same prospective. There's a very good reason I normally wait for a business trip to dive into  any particular renovation. So, I lay down a little painters tape to make him happy...but the puppy kept pulling it off of the wall and running away with it so I went back to my old ways.

 I love looking back at the finished product, it makes me feel worthy. Sure, it's still a neutral color (Sherwin Williams Netske) but it gives the wall some depth, a bit of richness and it's enough of a hue to demonstrate a contrast with the woodwork, crown molding and fireplace stone. (Please excuse the poor pictures, my camera is not cooperating).

To top it off, the paint finish has a sheen. I'll be able to wash it up when necessary plus I'll have left over paint to keep for touch ups.

********************************************

ON THE SUBJECT OF "FUN FEST"

I'll admit I had some serious reservations about allowing my daughters to attend a live musical festival downtown in Austin with one of their friends and her mother. Mostly it was that it was costly and secondly I was  concerned about what kind of a scene it would be.

As teens tend to do, they cajoled and bargained and wore me down.There was supposed to be 4 stages with music, comedians and performance art. They were so determined to go see the band MGMT which is on our dance playlist and something we regularly play and traipse around the house to.

I've chosen a selection from You Tube in case you're not familiar. The clip I selected is blank with lyrics because I wanted to you to hear the band the way I've thought of them, as I had never seen a video of them before. I couldn't find a suitable video with high enough quality to post on here, plus the ones I did find show a band that is pretty "out there".

Agreeing to go, armed with my sketch book and other boredom busters, I figured I could keep myself occupied and listen to some music I might not ordinarily play on my car radio while keeping an eye on these girls.

"Fun Fest" crowd

 We met up with one of their school chums and her mother , who I assure you is a perfectly nice and lovely individual. Reservations about our plans quickly set in after about 20 minutes. The only music we could hear while in line was loud, head banging, hair pulling, screaming sort of ying yang. Doubts set in, can I really endure 4 hours of this kind of stuff while waiting to hear MGMT?

The crowd was rough looking. I try not to judge a book by it's cover but the aroma I smelled was not of the good sort. I would not say I was frightened, I'm from Detroit people. I've seen nothing since our move to Austin that has scared me.

What really sealed the deal on our change of plans and eventual exit was the school chum. She was treating her mother horribly while we were in line. It made for a very uncomfortable situation for all of us. I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket and checked my incoming text message.

It was from my 15 year old daughter who was standing next to me in line. Can we go? I looked at her, mouthed the word really? She shook her head affirmatively. OK, now we are in an awkward situation waiting in line with her friend for this concert but after a 2 minutes of thought I took the fall.

"You know, I just don't think I can stand this for 4 hours. I feel awful, but I think we are going to switch gears and go eat a nice meal and shop around on South Congress. You are welcome to join us". Her mom encouraged us to do what we needed to do. She told me she was hoping her daughter would change her mind and they would catch up with us.

So just like that, we left, thanking God that we did not spend a boat load of money to get into a music festival where we may have been miserable for hours. My 13 year old was confused and aggravated, as she had never been to any kind of concert.

Luckily she was persuaded by her sister, who had the good sense to know when to cut her losses that we would have fun lolly gagging and see a concert at another time.

*************************************

ON THE SUBJECT OF LOLLY GAGGING

First things first, we unanimously decided to seek out food and a clean bathroom so we could lollygag in a sated state of mind. We landed at Hopdoddy Burger Bar, a relatively new establishment on South Congress.

Hopdoddy Burger Bar

Fresh ground burgers. Everything local. Homemade buns, ice cream and fresh squeezed juices sounded like a winner and it was. Right away we know we needed to try the Mexican Vanilla or Dutch Chocolate milk shakes along with our burgers.

The fries were seasoned with sea salt and some fresh herbs. However, when your menu says "chili cheese fries", to someone from Michigan that doesn't mean fries served with a side of Queso. We got a big kick out of our servers T shirt which said: We spank our patties and they like it.

It was fun, clean, contemporary, fresh and the locals in the booth next to us were very excited about the selection of local beer and guiness on draft. It definitely was the rest and refill we needed before proceeding to the vintage shops along South Congress including our favorite, Uncommon Objects which had the weirdest assortment of items, as promised on the sign.

Where else can you find 1970's lamps, macramé, framed dermatology illustrations from the early 1900's, crocodile hides, old teeth and boxed science projects? Some of our favorites:

family of dressed up skunks

old painted wooden cards

We finished off the night with a little bit of sight seeing (ie: getting lost in the city) and after having made a pretty fun night out of an uncomfortable situation the baby decided to return to her disgruntled state of mind over not having seen a concert.

Oh well, I guess that's her choice as a teenager. I, however know for a fact that fun was had by all...just not AT the "Fun Fest".

To experience other folks random briliiance visit The UnMom.