The Best Of: Rock Stars

So, since we covered my favorite movie characters and since I’ve been spending so much time on YouTube listening to music and watching concerts, I thought I would cover my favorite rock stars. I’m not sure exactly what it is about these guys that works, but whatever it is, it definitely works. Again, these are in no particular order because picking a favorite is simply impossible since they all bring something different to the table.

Beginning with Gavin Rossdale, I remember waiting in line to get my copy of Sixteen Stone with my best friend. I then ran home and listened to it over and over again while reading along with the lyrics until I knew every single word by heart. It’s still one of my all time favorite CDs.


Next, we have Eddie Vedder. I remember my mom saying that he looks like the devil, so I went out of my way to get a smiling picture of Ed, but I do prefer him scowling for whatever reason. Freshman year of high school, I got Pearl Jam’s Ten and to this day, it remains my favorite all-time CD. If I had to use a word to describe Mr. Vedder, it would probably be intense.


Moving right along, we come to Chris Cornell. I remember my friend Meg saying that he looks like the devil…wait…are you seeing a pattern here? Anyway, back when the Irishman and I were just silly high school kids sitting around watching MTV, I would have a forced moment of silence whenever a Soundgarden video was on. Watching Chris Cornell took all of my adolescent attention.


Bono. One name that requires no explanation at all. I have no earthly clue what it is about him that puts him on this list, except he definitely belongs here and I’m sure that 1.8 million other people would agree with me.


Finally, we have a newcomer to the list. Joe Jonas. He’s probably a little pretty for my taste, but hey, I wrote this list off the cuff and he came to mind, so here he is. If I was 12, I’d probably have the picture that I cut out of Bop magazine (is that still around??) hanging on my wall. Fortunately, I’m not 12 and if any of you tell anyone else that he’s on my list…wait, he is over 18 years old right??



This Week’s Soundtrack

So, I thought it would be fun to sum up my week by ascribing a soundtrack to it. Here is this week’s soundtrack. It’s definitely been an interesting week. Just click on the name to hear the song. I’m taking a risk and predicting tomorrow’s song in advance, but I’ll let you know if it changes…

Monday: Whitesnake, Here I Go Again

Tuesday: Pink Floyd, Comfortably Numb

Wednesday: Fiona Apple, Across the Universe (Beatles Cover)

Thursday: AC/DC, Highway To Hell

Friday: Def Leppard, Pour Some Sugar On Me

***FYI – Michael Phelps is slated to host SNL for their season premiere on Sept. 13***

By The Light Of The Moon


About a week or two ago, I came home pretty late and looked up to see this fog shrouded moon. I ran inside and grabbed my camera because the smokiness of the clouds captivated me, but I completely forgot that I had taken this picture until I downloaded it tonight.

I’m generally a morning person, so it’s not often that I find myself out in the quiet darkness. While I prefer the full disclosure of daytime, there’s definitely something intriguing about the night. It’s as if we are shrouded in a layer of mystery, which offers us the chance to be a different version of ourselves. Imperfections and intentions are hidden beneath the gauze of the moon and we find a new boldness that allows us to say and do things that we wouldn’t otherwise.

Yes, I can definitely understand why some prefer the night. As for me, I’ll keep my sun and blue skies as regular companions and night as the mistress that I visit when I get restless.

Too Much Thought

It’s rare that I actually get into a new TV show, particularly one that has a continuing story line week after week. I just don’t like the commitment of needing to see a show; however, last week, a friend of mine handed me the entire first season of Prison Break and said, “just watch it.” So, this past weekend (facing 16 hours in a car roundtrip), I brought along my computer and headphones and set off to give it a whirl.


Now I must say that, in addition to having a seriously good looking lead actor, the show is quite compelling. The thing that I like best about it is that it doesn’t pull it’s punches. It stays true to the brutality that exists in prison and it shows that people exist in shades of gray being neither entirely good nor bad, but generally falling somewhere in between.

There’s just one thing that doesn’t sit well with me. Actually, this one thing exists in all rescue type situations (whether the rescue is from prison or from natural disasters) and I’ve never really understood it.

Why does the death toll of the rescuers always exceed the lives that would have been lost had the rescue never been attempted?

For example, three climbers are stranded in an avalanche. Twelve search party volunteers set out in treacherous conditions to attempt the rescue against all odds. Six members of the search party end up losing their lives in the attempt while two members of the stranded climbers also fall victim to the elements. What I don’t understand is that, at the end of the day, six people died to save one. Now don’t get me wrong, if I’m that one person, I’d be damn grateful, but I just don’t understand the trade-off that’s involved.

At first I thought that there must be something about human nature that doesn’t allow us to just sit back and watch people die if there’s any chance that they can be saved. Whether it’s rescuing someone sitting on death row for a crime that he didn’t commit or digging climbers out of an avalanche, we are compelled to act even when the odds are against us. But there’s one thing that I don’t understand about this – why are we willing to save people who are so difficult to save while we ignore people in dire need of help on a daily basis? We walk by the homeless without a second glance and listen with bored ears to news stories about genocides in Africa, yet we are moved to tears by stories of stranded families and missing persons. I guess it all comes back to relatability. Most of us are not homeless and our families are not being slaughtered in Africa, but any one of us can become stranded or abducted.

Obviously, I’ve given this way too much thought and while I’m now compelled to watch the next three seasons of the show, I will always be thinking in the back of my mind, “at what cost is he being saved?”

This Just Doesn’t Get Old

Is it a random day in 2008? Oh, it is?? Then it must be time for another round of Parker and Payton pics. To tell you the truth, I just can’t get enough of these two characters. The Irishman keeps lobbying for another child, but really, Parker couldn’t ask for a better buddy or sibling than our very own Payton.

“Well hi there little fella, do you mind if I share this couch with you?”


“Um, do you mind scooting over just a tad? I don’t have enough room over here.”


“Thank you, that’s much better.”


“Goodness, it looks like I might be squishing your tail.”


“Gosh, I’m really sorry about that little buddy. Here, let me give you a hug to make up for it.”



“Hey, you make a pretty nice pillow…I think I’ll just take a little snooze here if you don’t mind.”


Payton, enough with the “woe is me” expression…we know you love him.



So, I’m a little bit in love with this picture. To give you the full story behind it, one day last week, the Irishman was outside working on the yard and Parker was desperate to join him. He kept pacing back and forth, calling out, “da-dee, da-dee.” (You see, Parker is in a really big “da-dee” phase at the moment. Don’t get me wrong, if he’s sick…or tired…or hungry…or needy, he still wants me. But for the rest of the time, well, the rest of the time he is all about his dad. They play together and wrestle together. Parker tries on his dad’s size 13 shoes and stumbles around the house in them. Anyway, you get the point.)

So my husband, hearing his son’s desperate cries, would periodically come by the storm door and spray it with water from the hose. Parker would crack up and then go back to his pleas…waiting…and knowing, that his dad would come by again soon to spray more water at him.

I was sitting on the couch enjoying this little game and watching Parker’s sweet silhouette as he paced back and forth. What you see in the picture is what I saw with my eyes. Even when he turned back towards me to laugh, I couldn’t see his face with the sun filtering through the doorway behind him. Regardless, his silhouette, like his laugh, would be completely recognizable to me from a mile away.

Queen of Denial

So I have a fatal flaw – I am the Queen of Denial, particularly when it comes to emotionally charged situations. You see, I’m a thinker, not a feeler. I approach every situation with logic and I make decisions based on a cost-benefit analysis. I lead with my head and not my heart. In fact, it annoys the crap out of me that 97% of all songs are about love and relationships and blah, blah, blah. I think you get the point.

As a result, I don’t consider myself the best person to go to for emotional support because I will almost always try to fix things instead of just hearing you out. Here’s the problem though…there are some things that you just can’t fix and this is where my denial issue comes in. I just try my best to stay as busy as possible and avoid the situation. I didn’t say it was functional or rational, but unfortunately, it’s my default defense mechanism. There’s just one big problem about denial. It will fail you at the most inopportune time.

My best friend’s mom fought and lost a battle with cancer over 4 years ago. From the time of the diagnosis, I was moving at warp speed trying to be helpful. I cleaned my friend’s house and walked her dogs. I did research and tried to be available whenever possible. At the memorial service, I wrote checks for the priest and helped get everyone seated. I thought I was doing pretty well and I was…right up until the moment when I walked onto the altar to read a passage from the bible.

It was at that exact moment that everything caught up with me. The reality of the situation and the size of our loss just hit me like a two by four. And I lost it. I started sobbing like I’ve never sobbed before. Standing behind the podium with a microphone amplifying my sorrow, I simply could not keep it together. Looking out at all of my friends and their families, I did my best to get through the reading, but it wasn’t pretty. In fact, I’m sure it was as painful to watch as it was to experience.

Now, I’m not a crier. And I’m certainly not prone to shedding tears in public, but that day, I completely fell apart. In hindsight, I know exactly where I went wrong. I didn’t allow myself to grieve. I didn’t say goodbye in my heart because in my mind, I felt like if I didn’t acknowledge it then it wasn’t really happening. Brilliant, I know.

Now, I still don’t do goodbyes at all (but that’s a whole other post in and of itself), but I felt like I got better at acknowledging loss. Apparently, I overestimated myself. You see, the Irishman’s beloved aunt is losing her battle with cancer and I feel like I’m in a really bad flashback. We’re driving down there this weekend. I’m almost frantic with trying to keep my mind busy because this just can’t be happening again. It’s so sad and so frustrating and there isn’t a damn thing that I can do about it. So, I’ll make coffee for everyone and handle whatever needs handling at the moment…anything to not have to feel. I already know that I’m heading for disaster, but I don’t seem to be able to change my trajectory. The only good news is that pregnancy loosened my tear ducts, so maybe I can manage to shed all of my tears in private instead of making a big ‘ol scene. In a phrase, cancer bites the big one.