Dude … The Magic of Garth and Shark Week Living on 42

I felt like I was riding a wave of electricity in a thundolt-filled sky.

The energy brought life into my life, and for the third time in my existence, I crossed off a Bucket List Item in honor of my birthday. I wasn’t sure how I would celebrate the big 42. I wasn’t worried as much as when I turned 40. Not because it wasn’t a big day, it always is, but because both Jackie Robinson and James Worthy wore No. 42 jerseys, so that had to be a sign of awesomeness to come in my year of 42 … At least that’s what I thought.

But it was even better.

The Magic of Garth can overpower any bad spells on any given day, and turn a good day into a great night — the unforgettable ones that belong in The Jar of Awesome.

In spite of a couple of personal snags that evening, which could have sucked the blue out of the sky, I was still … STILL able to enjoy the sparkle and wonder of the Big Magic that is Garth Brooks. I had a little bit of it sprinkled on me as I experienced the musical testimony of of this cowboy dude. He had the power to erase bad conversations, frustrations, anger, and ill thoughts. He had the power of the ocean.

Two Pina Coladas. That Summer. Thunder Rolls. Unanswered Prayers. Shameless. Friends in Low Places. And … And his new song  Ask Me How I Know. Not to mention his duet with Trisha Yearwood and her solo songs that night.

And it was awesome. He left it all out on the stage and it was inspiring, contagious, live-your-life-like-this energy.

Definitely a great way to celebrate a birthday and live in the moment, in that live-your- life-like-Shark-Week moment I was talking about last week. Every single person surrounding me surged with the good vibes of country music’s finest.

Feeling the energy with Brooks on stage.

I felt like he was smiling at me.

The Big Magic

Miss Trisha singing one of my favorites

The ending … Part I because there was then core and housecleaning 🙂

 

I had never been to one of his concerts before, and now I know what I’ve been missing out on. It was a never-disappointed nighttime adventure.

The birthday celebration began with the greatness of the sandy beaches on a California coast with my kids, coupled with good food. Then the night …the night was filled with The Magic of Garth.

It was the kind of birthday weekend I like to imagine. It gave me a day to spend with my family and live the best mom life on the beach, riding waves and building sand castles under the Californian sun, and then The Night with Garth which fed my feel-good feelings soul of the regular Chapsiptick girl in me.

Blowing out birthday candles, wishing for big dreams, and Bucket List Adventures involving The Magic of Garth Brooks was a good way to ring in the Year of 42. Shark Week Living and Garth Brooks … Definitely a great combination.

 

Buen Camino my friends!

 

 

 

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Fire Me Up Fridays

It clicked. It surged. It boosted my battery. It recharged my spirit.

“Don’t become satisfied with something that should only encourage that you are in the right spot.”

Don’t stop at encouragement … keep looking for satisfaction.

Even if your life blueprint doesn’t match your current existence, even if you feel stuck in your George Costanza zone … it’s just temporary. It may feel like forever when you’re in it day in and day out, but it’s not forever. I have my bad days, plenty of them, but realized that I shouldn’t let the how’s of my existence erase the who that I am. The how … it still troubles me, most definitely, but my who remains in tact.

Don’t settle … you’ll get there.

“The elevator to success is broken, so you’re gonna have to take the stairs.”

Yeah. So lace up your shoes. It’ll take you longer to get there, but you’ll get there. Me too.

 

 

I tell you … I got fired up Friday and Sugarland kept the flames burning.

 

 

 

The Defnition of Music

Image via LeFunny.net

 

 

I was so thrilled with the concept of a weekly playlist that I was going to post another one this week. But I ran into this quote in the middle of my mixed tape creation and I had to put it up there.

I had no idea who Frank was, but he seems to understand a chick’s mind.

 

 

 

Enjoying a Little Country

Fours hours.

I waited four hours.

And we went through …

Three juice boxes.

A bag of pretzels.

Nine Cutie Tangerines.

A bag of Pirate Booty Popcorn.

A muffin.

32 ounces of Gatorade.

Two trips to the bathroom

Two diaper changes.

Two paper airplanes.

One Hot Wheels.

One hour of Angry Birds play.

Seven piggy back rides.

And endless dance moves to the tunes of the pre-concert DJ. You know me, I didn’t need a dance floor to bust a move, the parking lot was just fine. My son and daughter joined me.

But why… why would I wait four hours outside a ginormous mall parking lot on a Saturday morning-afternoon with two kids in overcast weather? I hate malls. I hate shopping. So why? Why would I do this? Who was worth the trouble?

My man … my main man … Country Music Star Blake Shelton.

 

I hadn’t been this close to any singer since my Enrique Iglesias concerts in college. Dude. Duuuuuude.

 

My son decided to wear his firefighter gear to the concert. He told me just in case there was an emergency. He met a little cowboy playing the same Angry Birds game. They decided to share strategies while we waited for Blake to come out.

 

Blake Shelton singing acoustic style.

 

Smiling as he finished his last song. I’d like to think he was smiling at me … but you know … the random chick next to me thought it was for her.

 

It was a good morning for a little country music.

 

This is Blake Shelton’s Fault

I was one of “the last Mohicans” …  until Blake Shelton. Do you know this tall drink of water?

 

I first heard him on the country air waves in 2004 when he sang “Some Beach” … then fell in love with him when he sang “Home” a couple of years later. Now I’m just a full-blown fan. He makes my knees wobbly. So I blame this conversion on him.

I didn’t necessarily despise reality television, but let’s just say I didn’t like it.I reeeeally didn’t like it. 

As a writer, I enjoy watching quality television. Real television: drama or comedies. Shows where there are writers, plots, and character arcs. Sons of Anarchy, Mad Men, Breaking Bad, Justified, White Collar, Person of Interest, Seinfeld … you know shows of that nature.

I wasn’t fond of watching the lives of chicks with too much makeup and absolutely no talent. I was not even aware of why people were interested the lives of “Housewives…” regardless of where they lived. I am probably the only person on earth that doesn’t like the fake drama of Bravo TV, or of Survivor. I’m not a fan of all those singing or dancing competitions either, I mean honestly how many American Idols or X Factors can you watch? I couldn’t. I needed more shows like Lost. I wasn’t a TV snob or anything, I watch sports. I just wasn’t a fan of that type of television… it didn’t call to me.

And then last year I saw my tall drink of water on something called The Voice, and I thought: dude, how could you? How could you betray me like this?

It was yet another singing competition, but this one had a twist … no horrible, fake singers at the beginning to boost ratings. There were quality singers in something called blind auditions. The coaches have their backs turned and can’t see the singers, only hear them, basing their decision to select them solely on their voice … thus the title. It’s different. But still, I thought … dude … c’mon. What are you doing?

Then I watched a couple of episodes last year and saw my tall drink of water interact with the other coaches, and it was funny. The talent was actually good. The coaches helped out the contestants and provided constructive advice instead of just clapping and using empty words. The host wasn’t annoying, either. Then I saw Blake perform … and I was hooked.

Image via Wikipedia

So after the Super Bowl this year, I watched it. I had become a reality tv fan, granted it was just the one show and I was undercover, but soon I would be outed. 

One night I thought everyone had fallen asleep early and my dude came downstairs and caught me watching it.

 What are you doing? Are you watching Cinemax?

What? No.

Why’d you change it so fast?

I was caught. I didn’t know what to say. I hit the “previous channel” button on the remote. He noticed the singers and raised an eyebrow. Then he saw Blake Shelton and smiled.

I’m watching something called The Voice.

He shook his head.

You’re watching Blake.

I laughed. This was definitely Blake Shelton’s fault.

Now you can find me on Monday nights hurrying to put the kids to sleep. Rushing downstairs taking hold of the remote control, ready to see what Blake and the other coaches have in store for me. This Monday battlerounds begin. I’ll be on the couch, rocky road on hand, and relaxing with my secret undercover reality TV pleasure.

 Do you have any undercover reality TV pleasures?

 

How Country Music Snuck Up on Me

Ever wake up wretched…thinking I need a damn miracle today? That’s how I used to feel every day while working as a substitute middle school teacher years ago. I know what you’re thinking…why didn’t you just slit your wrists? Yeah I know. But bills were bills and there were no writing gigs. So there I was classroom after classroom of pimples and raging hormones.

Feeling like jumping off a cliff everyday at three o’clock. Then while I was driving home, I turned the radio dial and found Allan Jackson with Jimmy Buffett  and thought damn…it is five o’clock somewhere. Giddy up!

 I don’t know how it happened but after that I’d become a country music fan. Growing up in the inner city you don’t really hear Tim McGraw, Faith Hill, Shania Twain, Allan Jackson, Kenny Chesney, Reba, Blake Shelton, Garth Brooks or Alabama…it’s more Sonora Dynamita, Fito Olivares, El Buki, Bronco, and songs like “I’m Your Puppet,” “Supersonic,” or “Rapper’s Delight” that blasted the boombox. I wasn’t aware of something called country music until college, but I thought that belonged to the Texas Longhorns, hillbillies, or people living in Nashville. I didn’t want hear songs about dogs or tractors by someone with a twang…and now I wish I had a deep twang. Ohh Josh Turner. Ohh.

I probably could have used country music all my life, including, relationships. These chicks are badass and the guys aren’t bad to look at either. They got lungs and the twang. But what drew me in were the stories. They had their happy songs but the ones with guts hit the spot…talking about failure and surviving it. I thought damn! These are my people, even if they do drink whiskey. They might not use a lot humor in their songs, but they got a little sass and adventure, and that always makes me laugh.

I knew I was a fan when I started raising the volume and little by little the dial went up from a seven to a twenty. And there I was singing away at stop light, but I was still undercover as the windows were rolled up. Couldn’t be singing away by King Taco…that’s Banda Macho territory. I needed to be blasting “El Gato y el Raton,” or Enrique Iglesias.

But after a couple of years I heard the one…the one that made me roll down the windows. She was fairly new on the country scene but this song…made every chick carry a bat in the back of her car. They felt her pain. They knew what she was talking about because they thought if that ever happened to me I would do that too. Carrie Underwood…“Before He Cheats.” I rolled down that window, pumped up the volume, and turned up my best karaoke voice. The guy with the shades in the spruced up, cherry Impala just slightly lowered his glasses, snuck a peek and shook his head in laughter.

We’re chicks…we’re crazy like that.