Mine Is Better Than Yours

If you're anything like me, you spent the majority of your Sunday evening watching the Grammy Awards-and tweeting about everything from the fashion to the music to the presenters to the lighting effects (and the water).  Yet as the evening wore on I began to notice a trend among my twitter feed (aside from the quirky mix of Downton-ites ignoring the Grammys, the weather-watchers glued to the tornado outbreak, and my school counseling tweeps engaged in their regular Sunday night edchat).  There was a chorus of "my opinion on music is superior to yours."  This caused me to back slowly away from engaging in any real banter with many of those whom I love chatting with on a regular basis.  I mean, come on, this is music.  The great uniter.  The one thing we should all agree on.  Yet suddenly the battle lines were drawn.

I understand I have what I consider "quirky" taste in music.  In one commute to work I can switch between a country music station, a grunge 90's station, some jazz on my iPhone, and a little blues.  I love classical music in a nerdtastical way (as in, I have favorite composers and eras).  I will tune in to Folk Night on the NPR station when I'm back home on the weekends.  I love me a good banjo player.  Don't get me started on the mandolin. 

You may not find any rap, urban, hip-hop, classic rock, hard rock, much pop, or electronica music in my music library.  But that certainly does not mean I don't appreciate the talents those musicians bring to the table.  What amazed me was the derision many had for them last night.  I saw derogatory comments for just about every musician that took the stage.  From Sir Elton John to Zac Brown Band, the Black Keys and Prince.  I mean seriously people.  These are some of the best musical minds of our generation.  They may not make the music you choose to purchase, but that does not mean you cannot bring yourself to appreciate what they bring to the table.  I may not like what Richard Wagner or Phillip Glass composed, and do not choose to listen to any of it, but I realize they have unique talents and skills. 

I think I will take Kelly Clarkson's approach.  I may not know who Miguel is, but damn if I didn't find his performance amazing.  I think the best thing the Grammy Awards can do for us is celebrate the musicians we love and open our eyes to ones we don't know about.  I have a few albums I will be investing in soon.  And yes, I'm totally, unashamedly, on the Justin Timberlake bandwagon. 

A Musical Confession

So I have a confession to make.  One that may make some readers laugh.  One that may make some of you roll your eyes at me.  One that I've been keeping hidden for quite some time...

I am becoming a huge country music junkie.

Not just a passive listener.  Not just a "ooohhh I heard that country song on my Top 40 station and really liked it" listener. 

No, I'm talking a buy the albums, listen to the satellite station all the time, watch the videos, know the top 20 countdown songs most weeks, watch the backstory specials on CMT, even go to a few concerts now...junkie.

Go ahead and mock if you must.  But here is how this came to be (from a girl who only loved indie musicians and swore Country music was for the birds)...

I was driving to a conference over a year ago and needed a good music mix to listen to.  I was scanning the stations on my satellite radio and stumbled across the country station.  I stopped for a while and liked what I heard.  Listened for the two hour drive.  It wasn't the country I knew as a girl growing up in the burbs.  It wasn't the twangy country I assumed it might be.  It was fun.  It reminded me of the beach even.

But what really caused me to fall head over heels in love was the songs about being in love.  More specifically the men singing about their beloved.  Never in all of my music-going had I heard such simple and perfect expressions of adoration for women.  And these songs reminded me of things my husband has said to me. Or ways he has looked at me.  Things he has done for me.  And all the ways he has made me melt with just a look.  Kind of like this...




Sigh...

So yes, I am a full-fledged Country Music lovin gal.  Singing at the top of my lungs in the car. But mostly it is because whenever I flip on the radio I am transported right back to my most favorite place in the whole world...wrapped in the arms of my adoring husband.

Backwards & Forwards, Inside & Out, FLIP! Fight for Bowling Green!

Forward Falcons!

There is nothing like returning to your Alma Mater, is there?  Especially on a perfectly crisp, cool autumn afternoon under clear blue skies for a football game.  I am fortunate enough that I get to return fairly often.  As a high school counselor, I even get invited back to Bowling Green State University for counselor days where we are shown all the new awesomeness that is BGSU Falcons.  Yesterday though it was all about football, marching bands, cheerleaders, mascots, and even the unofficial-official mascots.  We were decked out in our orange and brown, and ready to cheer our beloved Falcons to victory.  But as much as I love and adore college football, I was really, really looking forward to one thing...pre-game.  You see, eleven years ago I was a member of the FMB (that's Falcon Marching Band in regular people speak).  Out there on the wide green expanse of the Doyt, having been up since sunrise rehearsing, spending my game days with some of the finest people I've had the privilege to meet.  And watching pre-game brings those memories flooding back because so little has changed in the actual performance.  Friends I haven't seen in years; friends that felt like family when I was living so far from home.  The memories I have of the FMB are the sweetest of my years at BGSU, and watching today's members is such fun.  And no matter how many times I try, I will never properly learn the last few words to the fight song...they'll always be "backwards and forwards inside and out FLIP! Fight for Bowling Green!" to me!

Who can spy the very young me with my girls at Penn State?

 A hot pair-literally and figuratively-during fundamentals week!

A future FMB member

Happy Finally Friday

It is finally Friday y'all!  For the past two nights, I have felt like it was Friday, that "let's stay up late and watch movies, eat popcorn, leave the windows open, and sleep in" kind of feeling.  Only, it wasn't.  It was a school/work night.  And I had to get up early the next morning.  Ugh. My psyche is way off.  But this morning, the sun peeked out as I drove in, the music played, the coffee was perfect, and I am blissfully happy that today is Friday.  Because I feel fantastic, I thought I would share a little music memory with you today.

This is the one and only, yummy Harry Connick, Jr.  When I was in college, we used to blast his album She this time of year.  The air was warm, all the windows in the dorms were open, the breeze was wafting through the hallways, everyone was wearing their Doc Martens sandals, and finals were just about over.  It was the time of year college students revert back to childhood...playing Frisbee, catch, and buying a kiddie wading pool to fill through a hose fed through a first floor window into a bathroom.  Each spring, I pull this album out, and let its sounds waft through my commute, reminding me that the carefree times of summer are just around the corner.  Of course, they are far removed from college days.  Now they're filled with trips to the custard stand, the playground, swim lessons, and CSA pick ups...but they're even better than those days gone by.  

I wish you all a lovely Mother's Day weekend.  I hope you have days filled with love for those who helped you along your path...be it moms, aunts, grandmothers, sisters, friends, or others.  Take the time to thank them and share the love.  See you next week! 

To fill my soul

I spent my weekend in Cleveland with my husband and some of our closest friends.  To say it was wonderful would be an understatement.  We had an absolute blast.  I wrote an earlier post about my love for live music, and how it fills a place in my soul like no other.  Well, this weekend we had our fill. 


First, The Beachland Ballroom.  What a wonderful place to see a band or three.  The atmosphere in there was wonderful.  I felt as though I'd stepped into my iPhone's hipstamatic app, with the lighting, decor, and stage.  It was awesome. 

The opening act was from my hometown, Akron, Ohio.  Roger Hoover was a taste of the great show to come.  I have been to many concerts in my life, but this was the first one where I was stomping my feet from the first opener to the last.  As soon as Hoover started playing, my hips started swaying, fingers snapping, and feet moving.  I began down a road of four hours of non-stop dancing.  (and as soon as I get y'all a link for his music, I promise I'll send it your way-it is SO worth it!)  Sadly, I didn't get a photo of him playing, but the next time we go see him live, I promise I'll get you one.  

Shovels & Rope 

After a short wait, Shovels & Rope took the stage.  I had no idea what we were in for, as I have not seen them, nor heard an album.  Little did I know that by the end of their set I would be dripping in sweat from dancing like a fool and frantically searching my iPhone's iTunes app for albums to download.  The energy between Cary Ann & Michael (they're a husband/wife duo) was electric.  Later on, my husband and I talked about how this must have been what it was like to see Johnny Cash and June Carter Cash perform on stage together, so palpable was the sexual tension between them.  It simply draws you in to their show.  Then the voices they have; holy hell.  I could listen for hours upon hours.  Truly, they are a force that I'm certain will be one to reckon with on the greater music scene before we can blink.  I'm just feeling lucky enough to have witnessed them in a small venue like Beachland, because I believe they'll be bigger than big with voices and a performance like the one I witnessed.  Go and download their album, Shovels & Rope I promise you won't be sorry! 

Hayes & Cary Ann performing "Another Like You 

After a performance like Shovels & Rope, I was on the edge of my seat (well not seat literally-as it was SRO) for Hayes Carll to take the stage.  It wasn't long-the stage crews moved faster than any I've seen at concerts I've been to!  When the tall Hayes took the center stage position, flanked by his band, we were in for a two-hour ride that was filled to the brim with his Texas-singer/songwriter voice booming while the guitar strings were moving the crowd from swilling beer to swaying and dancing.  His set was filled with songs from every album.  I heard some of my old favorites (Beaumont from Trouble In Mind) and new ones I adore on his new album (Another Like You/Bye Bye Baby from Kmag Yoyo (& Other American Stories).  At one point, he called out to the crowd that he'd not expected us to be there, let alone to know the music quite so well...so feel free to make requests.  A flurry of titles began to rise forth behind me.  I've never seen such a joyful playing of music and interplay between band and crowd as I did that night.  I was a fan before, but now I will make it a point to see each of these bands whenever I can.  

The night ended at 12:30 for us...a sweaty, feet aching, beer fueled, totally enjoyed night.  For now, my live-music loving soul has been satiated.  For now.  But soon enough I'll need to seek out the next live show.  Hopefully I can snag one of these bands as they come close to us again.  Thanks to all for a spectacular show!

In the mood for a barfight

Who doesn't love a good show?  I have loved going to concerts ever since I went to my very first rock show in high school-Dave Matthews Band.  I can't tell you how many I've been to, but I can say honestly it is a lot.  A lot.


Concerts are like a drug.  The thrill of the live music.  The rush of the crowd's energy.  The ringing in your ears when you leave the show.  The sweat pouring off your skin from dancing till your socks melt.  Even the sticky residue on the bottom of your shoes from all the beer on the venue floor.  I forget how much my soul needs the rush until I get to one, and when we get away from the show and out into the relative silence of the real world, I babble on and on about how we "need to do this more often!" (usually loudly because I can't really gauge my own volume against the ringing in my ears).


Why am I blathering about this tonight?  Well dear readers, because I am going to a concert one month from today!  Wheeeeeee!  And, in all my concert-going, this is the cheapest ticket I've ever purchased...a whole ten dollars.  We are going to see Hayes Carll in Cleveland next month.  The husband and I have been trying to see him live for several years now, but he never seems to come north of the Mason Dixon line, typically hovering round Texas.  Now I get to see the man who sings lovely, twangy, bar fight fun songs live.  Check out the ACL video.  He is the second half of the show.  I especially adore the song, "Another Like You."  It is such rowdy, raunchy fun.

Watch the full episode. See more Austin City Limits.

Now, I need to shop for a new outfit. I must look sassy for this show. You know, just in case I get into a good 'ol barfight. That way I look good for my mug shot.




Kidding. Totally kidding about the fight. 

An ode...

I read a great blog post on NPR's deceptive cadence this morning, titled "What's The First Piece of Classical Music You Fell In Love With?" and was disappointed when I saw that the comments were closed.  It was such a perfect blog to read today, because on my way in to work I was thinking about how some music defines us, some music crystallizes a moment in time for us, and some music simply moves us to feel.  I know that not everyone is a lover of classical music, but I am.  There are days when I get into my car after work and flip on my NPR station and get lost on the chords, the pull of the strings, the deep mellow sound of the cello, the soaring horns.  I've loved classical music almost as long as I can remember.  I have favorite eras, favorite composers, even favorite pieces to play (if I could remember where my flute ended up when we moved).  When I started thinking about all the different pieces of music that have defined my life, that have entered into my soul, it wasn't long before I was able to narrow it down to the first two that I recall playing over and over on my first stereo in my bedroom.  The Prelude from Bach's Cello Suite No. 1 and Debussy's Claire de Lune.  Both pieces of music were part of my early memories of classical love.  One inspired me to pick up the flute and go further in my career (but eventually I did put it back down, regretfully so at this age).  One gave me a deep love for all things cello.  I used to listen to both, rapture at the harmonies, the dissonances, the soaring melodies, the beautiful resolution at the end.  To this day, both can bring tears to my eyes.  I walked down the aisle at our wedding to Claire de Lune, as no other piece of music could better escort me to my future husband.  There was a time in my life where I was certain I would have a career in the music world...as a teacher, orchestra member, professor, or some other performer.  Those days have come and gone.  But my deep love (and appreciation for the many who have a talent that I do not possess) for classical music remains.  Maybe one day I'll dig that flute back out of the darkened corners of our basement (or attic...wherever it landed), dust off some baroque sheet music, and find myself some musically inclined friends.  Either that or invest in a cello...

A girl can dream...

In Which I Won't Rant But Propose a Solution Instead

My last post was about a beautiful morning drive to work that I cherish every day.  Today was no different.  I got into the car, set my iPod to play one of my favorite Avett Brothers albums, had my travel mug in hand, and set off down the road.  However when I got about five miles from our house, I gasped and slowed nearly to a stop.  One of the features of my drive is the beautiful wildflowers that grow along the roadsides of Northwest Ohio.  The vast majority of these are native species (milkweed, butterfly weed, blue aster, Russian sage, blazing star, wild sewing sweet peas, black eyed Susan, queen Anne's lace, cup plant, goldenrod, and more.  These wildflowers created a beautiful array of colors, attract a variety of birds and butterflies, and even in the winter provide cover for the species who hibernate and winter here.  It is one of the joys of summertime in the Midwest to see such a diverse native flower group any which way you turn, without even entering someones back yard.

What horrified me this morning was that alongside the road every wildflower within the edge of the road to the top of the ditchline, had been mowed down to within a half an inch of the ground.  Butchered so low that it couldn't self-seed again; and that the now dead stems were clogging the ditches and waterways they had once shaded the morning before.  At first I was furious.  What need do we have to rid ourselves of such plant life?  What purpose does this serve?  I was formulating snarky facebook/twitter posts about it.  But I also understand that the men and women who are employed by the county to mow during the summer are also those who plow and clear our streets during the winter.  They are good people who depend on these jobs to put food on the table, and to educate their children.  It is not their fault that they are tasked with eliminating native species for the summer in order to secure year-round employment.  What needs to happen is for our county (which is fairly progressive for a rural community) to re-evaluate how we handle this.  We shouldn't eliminate native plant life.  It destroys natural habitat for many species who live here year round and who help to pollinate our crops.  We should, instead, look for ways to utilize these employees in the warmer months to continue to move us forward in an environmentally sound way.  I don't have those answers yet.  But I am going to funnel my shock and dismay I felt this morning into looking for ways we could do better and find out who I could present my ideas to.  I know...they're just flowers.  But it is also burning fossil fuels, tax dollars, honeybees, monarch butterflies, paychecks, maintenance on mowers and more.  We are better than this.  Let's prove it.

Of cornfields and cars

The summer before seventh grade I was headed on vacation a day a head of my family with our friends.  We were going to Lakeside, Ohio that summer and hadn't been before.  I was travelling with our family friends and we were taking the scenic route from my childhood home to Lake Erie.  This route would take me from the familiar hills and woods of Northeast Ohio through the flatter farmland near the lake.  As we drove I remember giggling over each rise in the road with my teenaged girlfriend and how it must be the highest spot in the county.  In my young mind I couldn't imagine what it would be like to live "in the middle of nowhere" like that.  It would be torture!  How little I knew then...


I have a long drive to work.  I really do enjoy it though...it is 45 minutes of solitude in the morning when I can watch the world wake up around me, and as the school year progresses see the sun rise over the farm fields.  In the afternoon I can turn the radio up and let the day's stress melt away as I edge my way home, again passing through the fields in the afternoon light.  I choose to take the country roads over the highways, uncrowded and uncongested byways where the most traffic comes during harvest and planting times.  My commute has become almost a meditation of sorts, a part of my day that is as essential to me as breathing in and out.  I honestly look forward to that time, and don't know what I would do without it.  Of course, there are mornings when the fog is so thick I can't see the bumper in front of me, or in January and the drifts put a skim of ice all over the place and those ditches on either side of me loom deep and dark; yet I still would not trade the drive I have through the cornfields of Northwest Ohio for all the highways, bridges, tunnels, subways, trains, or taxis of the world.  So, give me the flat, "in the middle of nowhere" farmland I've grown to love; I can't imagine going back to the hills and forests of my childhood anymore!