There’s this “thing” that permeates the Internet and it’s big among bloggers apparently. It’s a “tagging” mechanism as best as I can tell. You see, a blogger picks you and then you’re supposed to take keyboard in hand and publish a post revealing seven things that no one else knows about you. You then select a couple of other bloggers to do the same. They write their seven things and forward it on to other bloggers and it continues ad nauseum.
As a rule, I don’t do well at playing all the reindeer games that come my way. My friends and family know well not to include me in those email questionnaires in which you have to name ten things which all beginning with the first letter of your last name. Unless they can alloweme the chance to be creative and be obnoxious with the answers, I rarely participate.
AND WHATEVER YOU DO, DO NOT EVER SEND ME VIA EMAIL A MONEY ANGEL, A MAGIC KINCAID PAINTING, A LUCKY LEPRECHAUN OR A CAUSE-CREATED CYBER CANDLE THAT HAS TO GO AROUND THE WORLD TWICE OR ELSE LITTLE TIMMY’S GREAT AUNT VELMA”S BEST FRIEND”S CABANA BOY’S NEPHEW”S SON WON”T GET THAT TESTICULAR TRANSPLANT HE”S WAITED FOR SINCE A QUIRK DURING PUBERTY PREVENTED PROPER TESTICULAR DESCENT.
But because I’ve been asked to participate by two bloggers whose talent and overall lovely online coutnenances impress me, I will oblige. The lovely Ginny from Obi’s Sister tapped me (as it were) several weeks ago to do this, but life happened and well, I just didn’t have the time to write one thing about me, much less seven.
Then, earlier this week, the dashing Paul from Amused Cynic tagged me, so I decided this very morning, I would fulfill both obligations.
I find it interesting that anyone would want to read the musings of my frenetic, unyielding mind. I mean, that’s something I grapple with on a daily basis. I think to myself, “What kind of narcissistic A-hole am I to deign opining in a blog almost everyday and expect a regular readership?”
Well, then call me Lotus Flower and put a mirror in my hand ’cause baby, here goes:
(According to the rules of this seven things thing, I’m supposed to include the seven things from the two bloggers who tagged me)
Ginny’s list is first:
1. Music. It evokes so many memories from my life.
2. Watching my kids perform. When they were little, it was goofy dance recitals and goofier little league. Now it’s orchestra concerts and soccer games. Even though they’re grown, they are still adorable and I just want to pinch their little heads off.
3. Nature – the beauty of God’s creation.
4. Fine Vintage Linen
7. A crisp autumn’s afternoon in Athens, GA. There’s a spot on the UGAcampus, on Sanford Drive behind Rutherford Hall and the Myers Quad, where a line of tall gingkotrees drop their golden leaves. Gold above, gold under your feet, the quiet, crisp air, the waning sun through the branches…with a little imagination, you can see what the Fellowship saw when they entered Lothlorien.
And now here’s Driver’s list:
1. Definitely music. Not only does it evoke memories, it is in my DNA and I am part of its archaeological record. I’ve listened, played it, lived it, written it, written about it. I taste it. I dream it.
2. Watching my kids perform. Definitely. Although the oldest is now performing on the stage of life, and doing quite well at it, I still get to see the younger one acting and playing on the college stage. A great excuse for an overnight in a college town.
3. My guitar/amp collection. They were never intended to end up as a collection, and they don’t appreciate it. They were my tools. When I stop in for a visit and pick one out, plug it in, and wank on it for a while, the others stare at me reproachfully from their hangers on the wall. That is changing. With the kids gone, I’m emerging from my temporarily-induced Pamela Brown phase and, like Rumpelstiltskin, starting to remember my true identity. Have you ever tried re-stringing a dozen guitars? Getting back to “all of my good times, all of my runnin’ around.”
4. Travel. I never feel so alive as I do when I’m traveling. The first thing I do when I get “there,” wherever that is, is pick up one of the local real estate throw-aways, knowing full well that if I bought a place and settled there, it wouldn’t be “there” anymore and all the fun would be gone.
5. Cooking. We all have to eat, and you might as well eat the good stuff. Cooking is creative, an outlet in itself, with the added benefit of being edible and tasty.
6. Which leads to subsistence living. Not true subsistence living like the cave men, but the Euell Gibbons variety, where you go out and gather your own food and then take it home and make a great meal out of it (see 5, above). My ideal retirement abode will be a place where I can saltwater fish in the backyard at high tide, gather clams and mussels at low tide, grow a substantial garden, and gather wild berries and other ingredients. New England coast, probably, which has always felt like home to me, even though I’m a native NYCer.
7. Sittin’ on the dock of the bay (see all of the above). Sitting on a dock in the backyard of a cottage on a saltwater cove in Gloucester, MA, with an Ipod, a line in the water rigged for striper, a growler full of fresh Cape Ann Brewery Brown Ale, an acoustic guitar to strum in case fishing is slow, my kids coming and going (they still like to vacation with us), and prospects for another great family dinner
Wow. Ginny’s and Drivers seven things are all nice, thoughtful and some are rather deep.
1. First on my list has to be, dusk on cold, clear afternoons. I don’t know why, but the nip in the air, the incredibly elongated shadows, made even more so by the setting sun, has always captivated me. It’s an almost ethereal time for me and I can gaze upon this particular light of day anywhere in the world and I’ll still feel that tingly shiver that goes up my spine. And when I feel that, I know at least for a few minutes anyway, all is right with my world.
2. My favorite day or the week is Friday. It’s the end of the work week and the beginning of two days of not having to work. But to me, it’s more than that.
When I was a growing up in Small Town South Texas, Fridays had a palpable feeling to them. Whenever it’s Autumn in Texas, everything changes color: you look around and almost everywhere you look, you see oranges, deep golds and of course, Wilson Football brown. Football season is something altogether different in Texas.
- Friday nights: High school football
- Saturday late mornings; afternoons and evenings: College ball
- Sunday/All Day: Reserved for that particular style of gridiron action that only the pros can ‘throw down”
I guess the excitement has stayed with me almost 33 years after I left my hometown. I was a cheerleader in Jr. High and High School, so Fridays have special meaning. Certain memories become habits we never want to break.
3. I have a fondness in my heart and soul for contemporary and/or rock music that’s well orchestrated. As in, enfused with a full orchestra. I’ve always loved the Moody Blues for the way the group married the two sounds and made music that was oh so was rich and embracing. Head Moodys, John Lodge and Justin Haywood were geniuses in that regard. So too was/is the Beach Boys’ Brian Wilson. In between (the alleged) daily rails of Peruvian Flake alternated with (alleged) Klonopin, Lithium and Librium adminstered (allegeldy) by an extremely controlling shrink who expemplified the overly prescribing, “Dr. Feel Nothing” and lucidity, Wilson produced some incredible music. Epic tunes, really. People often talk about the musical wizardly of Lennon/McCartney. While I’m in full agreement with with that that powerful writing duo, I don’t think Brian Wilson has truly ever gotten the appropriate recognition he is due.
4. I have a school-girl-in-pig-tales kind of crush on a much younger man with whom I used to work. He is a beautiful soul with a beautiful soul. He’s kind, decent and incredibly, incredibly handsome. He is also married to a lovely woman whose goodness radiates from her very being. My crush goes unspoken and will remain that way, but if there could ever be a realistic option for an alternative universe to exist and the elusive future Mr. Kendrick could one day enter into the picture and assume his rightful place by my side, then this other worldly man, would fit the bill in every possible way.
In my fantasy, the perpetual 25 year old Laurie marries him. He also has the babies.
5. I am addicted to Coke. The sweet, brown carbonated liquid knows as “The Pride of Atlanta”, not the white, powdery, illegal mood enhancing substance also known as the Pride of Columbia. This fermented, highly caloric, and fattening beverage fizzified ( I swear) by Satan himself, is the bain of my tubby existence, but as I see it, I have so few joys in my life, why the hell not? Coke fills so many voids. My sister, Karol is also an addict.
Plus, I don’t drink coffee. It is my caffeine equivalent. Now, how in the hell I ever survived 26 years of working early morning hours in radio and TV without finding myself completely addicted to Java is beyond me.
6. Christmas is my favorite holiday however, I love the monthly lead-in to it more than I like the day itself. And Christmas Eve feels more Christmassy that Christmas Eve. I come from a very dysfunctional family–no big surprise there. My family members’ love/hate relationships with each other is legend. And while I love the colors, the sounds and the smells of the holidayand regardless of how sweet and lovely the concept of Christmas is and should be, we stopped “celebrating” it years ago when fighting ensued over the choice of “gifts” purchased for each other. There was …oh, let’s just say there was some unpleasantness. So, to simplify the holiday, while trying to make it less tenuous for all involved, we’ve elected to call it “The Annual Kendrick Family Holiday Receipt Exchange”, instead.
Yes Christmas is my favorite holiday, but Thanksgiving runs a very, very close second. There’s something about waking up on that Thursday morning to the smell of the festive bird already roasting in the oven. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t find the combined aromas of Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme all that enticing at 8am, but on Thanksgiving morning, somehow it works.
7. This last entry will be a combo. Many people might be surprised at just what an incurable romantic I am (yes, I want desperately to believe in fairy tales, but reality won’t let me), I will also admit, as I have many times before, that I like ghost stories. A lot. I don’t care about bigfoot or UFOs and aliens. Those things bore me. But the supernatural, as in witches and their craft, plus ghosts and hauntings fascinate me.
And by hauntings, I don’t mean that as it pertains to people who are plagued by actual battle scars or emotional or psychic injuries that won’t heal. I ache for these people. I know what it’s like to have those kinds of wounds. It hurts and keeps you awake at night and mourning throughout the day.
But if I can end this list of little known things about me with #7 being the true summation of all the honest to God things I love, want, pray for, crave and desire more than anything in the entire world, it would be to wake up every morning and face a world that exists and thrives completely pain free.
8. I also like to dream.