I am NOT A GROUPIE, I am a fan

Sure,whatever…..

Amazing the lies we tell ourselves, and pretend it’s the gospel truth.

I know I crossed the line between fan and groupie as soon as I traveled outside of my area to see C! . When I stopped thinking about catching them this year and started thinking about how many times I could catch them. When distance became no object and I discovered Southwest’s online “get-away” fares. And when my husband’s long running joke was no longer funny.

Me: “Look at the money we saved on this” (indicating a bill, or a purchase, or something we did ourselves instead of paying someone

Him: “Better put it in the Clutch fund”.

Anyone could see it was coming. A couple of Christmas’ ago, my son nailed it first. After a half dozen people (himself included) received C! hats, tees, & CDs, B declared “Sure looks like Clutch is having a Merry Christmas”. Later that year he told me I ruined C! for him. Every time he was getting into the music, he’d think of me.( yeah boy, that ain’t cool).

I say the problem I have with the label is the negative connotations it has. But in truth, being a groupie is just downright embarrassing for me.

The real problem is, the band is made up of people. And those people can’t be on the stage all the time. I don’t really know those people, and they don’t know me, but we sure as hell recognize each other out on the street. Being a groupie means you hit town early and check out the venue first. (looking for those pesky, no camera signs). Inevitably the bus is outside and the guys are either carrying stuff in, or walking around the area on their cells(happy to be outside). I know who they are. I know they know who I am (is that proper English?). So I’ve got to pretend I don’t see them, or acknowledge them.

Most of the time, I’m caught like a deer in headlights, with no time to recover. For the longest time I got away with a small smile and nod. Then it started to feel rude.

After all, these guys are also in smaller bands. When I go to see those bands we are all hanging in a smaller club, or bar all night. Sooner or later I’d have to start talking to them. Something is just not right when you are hugging the Techs, Roadies, and Merch guy at every show, but are ignoring the people you admire the most. All I wanted was to talk to each of them briefly, so I would no longer feel so star struck every time I bumped into one of them.

The Drummer was the easiest, he is famous for being accessible to the fans, and is really just the nicest guy (OK K, you’re letting your preference show). I got to talk to him over a year ago when the played in a tiny place(MAXWELL’S) in North Jersey. Now, we can nod at each other like old friends.

The Guitar player was next, I ran into him behind another small club(REX’S) and unfortunately for me, had had a couple drinks first.

Me: “I love you guys”

Him: “Thanks”

Me: (in my head) Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Him: (in his head) isn’t she that crazy old woman who dances like Elaine?

The Vocalist, forget about it, I’m am scared to death of him. I think he could look into my soul with his intense eyes. It didn’t help that at a recent TBG show, a well meaning friend shoved me into his face to introduce me. I don’t even know what I said, but I’m going to count him as done.

That leaves the Bass player, supposedly even shyer then I am (or was). After months of trying to come up with something original to say, I had a sudden thunderbolt of inspiration! The perfect thing to say, it wouldn’t embarrass either of us.

Me: Where’s your wife?

Him: Around here some where.

Ta Da…………!

So, are you a fan or a groupie ?? Can you talk to the object of your idolization? Who is it and what was your opening line?

Technorati Profile

Don't take this the wrong way, but are you TWO A COUPLE??

That's the second most often question we are asked when we are out together. Who is we? We is my Co-Mom and Me. Marty was the one who came up with the term. Now we sometimes modify the name to Co-Grandma and I will refer to Marty as my partner in crime. But we are the Co-Moms. At one time the only thing we had in common was the fact that my Daughter, J, was dating her son, W (we call him B, but since my son is also a B I'm gonna get all formal).

Now we are a legend in our own minds. When we show up at dance class, the girls all say "what have you two been up to this week"? Our shared hairdresser can't wait to hear our tales. Our husbands roll their eyes, but put up with our antics (sometimes) all the time asking, how much is this going to cost? Our kids laugh. W is more understanding and tolerant of our escapades (as long as we fulfill all the duties he expects of us). J is mostly supportive. But my other 2 have declared us insane and shake their heads sadly when they see me heading to the door with my travel bag (you know they're just jealous).

We are very alike and not at all alike. Each of us has added things that the other was missing. We inspire each other, and egg each other on. Together we are double trouble.

This year we are really pushing the limit. Instead of driving to shows , we are flying. Instead of one show, we'll follow the tour for a bit. (till our families patience runs thin). I think this is the first time ever I canceled classes, not for snow or illness, but for fun. Marty has taught me it's Ok to go away and have a little vacation by yourself. I have taught Marty that it's OK to stand up on the rail and talk to bands (they're just people too).

1. Here are some of the antics my co-mom and I have enjoyed this year;

• We Flew into NOLA for 1 day, spent the day walking the streets(stopping to refill our plastic cups numerous times).Met with friends, Attended a concert. Hung out at the bar till the wee hours and flew home hung-over/happy (and I ate Oysters !).
• Flew down to North Carolina for 3 days. Followed the bands from show to show. Hung out behind the Tour bus and (um hum) partied. Made the guys from Sweden roll with our stories (they can't believe America, a place where you hang out with grandma's before a show). And Marty was introduced to Goldshlager(she was best friends with it one night, the next day she vowed to never touch it again!)
• Drove down to Baltimore for a show in the middle of nowhere, I treated a couple bands to granny's famous home baking and after the show, we hung out upstairs in the "smoking room" with our newly adopted sons.
• Threw a huge "spur of the moment" Reggae Bash in my back yard, again with our adopted sons,
• Totally aced our dance recital, even though we spent the night before in DC seeing another one of our favorite bands.(we were pretty well behaved that night)

• Celebrated the end of our servitude (babysitting) by getting a pedicure, No biggie right? Wrong, I snuck in champagne in big water bottles, told Marty it was favored vitamin water(she brought that story for 2 seconds), and we got totally looped while the little Asian girls started rolling their eyes like our husbands.

But the biggest thing we shared this year was the birth of our joint, second and third grandchildren. Our lives are rich and full, because we celebrate both the biggest and the smallest things, together. Sometimes I say to Marty(while we are running around our kid's house getting bottles, changing diapers, cleaning the kitchen) this must be what it's like to live in a Mormon house, except for the sharing one husband part( ick !!).

So what’s the thing MOST people ask/say when they see Miss Marty and me

together??

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you two don’t look like the typical Clutch fans”.

Do you have a partner in crime???

Forever Young ??? Yep !

A funny thing happens when your children grow up. One night you look around and realize you've been left behind. The people you stayed home to watch and entertain every night of your adult life have gone out with new friends and you feel lonely. It really isn't funny, I mean, you didn't see me laughing when it happened to me 5 years ago.

Getting married right out of high school was a very 70's thing to do. The problem was, starting so young; you never get to enjoy the grownup things in life. In fact, you don't even know what they are. Imagine, you can't drink at your own wedding. Married 2 years, living in my own house, daughter 11 months old, that’s when I could legally have my first drink.

C (adored hubby) is a business owner and the business comes first, 7 days, 80+ hours per week. So I was home (when I wasn’t working P/T at his business) ALWAYS. I was DP (Designated Parent) 24/7 until my last little baby got her driver’s license and drove away without me.

Am I old? Do I have to spend the rest of my life doing genteel old lady stuff? Hell No! I was 45, but I felt like I was 25 and NOW, I'm having some fun.

Unfortunately for me, all our adult friends were happy to continue their lives where they were. No time travel for them. So, step one, meet new people. What to do?? Well, K and her friends are out (too young), B and his friends are out too (too wild and promiscuous). That leaves J, who is soon to be a bride and her Fiancé who just happens to be in a band that plays nightclubs. This sounds promising.

Went to see a show, liked the whole deal, and became a groupie at the ripe young age of 45. Once you take that first step towards the unknown, each one get a little easier.

Here are some other big steps I took in the summer of 2003, when I discovered my wings.

1. After years of teaching dance, finally went to workshops and got certified as a Balletone/Pilates instructor.
2. Missing the discovery through the eyes of a child, I invited my young niece to go on our annual week long camping trip.
3. Started to actually start conversations with people and learn how to go from the outside to the inside of a group.
4. Discovered Clutch.

Summer of 2008, I’m still taking new steps in every direction. But 2003 was a huge leap forward in my evolution. Now I believe that anything is possible and I think twice before deciding against doing things that may be difficult.

I have a mental list, I expand on it everyday. New goals to accomplish. Things unthought-of yesterday. I want to learn to play the drums. I want to hike in every National Park. I want to sleep in the desert tonight (just kidding). And I want to see the inside of that damn tour bus.

What do you still need to do?

Momaholics Untie (LOL)

Now you all know I am a Momaholic (Addicted to being a mom). I admit it’s a sickness. It’s not enough for me to feed my family. No, I have to go out of my way to insure that even my children who have moved out try to sit at the table every night. It’s not that I want them there(not saying I don’t). It’s not even that I enjoy cooking all that much (even though I’m referred to as “The Italian Mother, who just happens to be Irish”). I just can’t seem to stop myself from doing things to help people, or at least trying to. My family likes to tease me about it, but just let me go away for day. It’s the end of the world.

Tonight’s topic at the table, which included J, her husband, little O, & the negative twins (sounds like a band!) was about how I would rhapsodize tonight about my broken microwave vegetable steamer. The negative twins were moaning about how stupid blogging was and why should they have to read it(kids, on the cusp of 21, know everything) The married couple was complaining that I must have too much time on my hands, since I have time to write. They had big plans for my free time, all involved me taking the twins (the real twins, not the negative ones). My hubby, as predictable as the seasons, kept his eyes down and his mouth full (as a middle child, he knows how to stay out of trouble). So where was I? Standing at the counter, because the kitchen table only seats six, listening to my families’ debate. I was smiling to myself. I am so lucky to have this. Twin 4 month olds asleep on the sofa, my 22 month old pride and joy throwing rice in the air, my adult children(and childen-in-law) arguing over who does more to help me, and my other half enjoying what I made for him.

But, I am going to miss that steamer!

Taking Multitasking up a Notch

As I’m sweating Vidalias for homemade cheesesteaks, I’m thinking about the best topic to start this Blog space off. Should I start off funny right away to “Grab” people, tell about myself, explain my Blog space title? Stories run through my head. There’s not much room in there. I am also, checking my time, preparing the other elements dinner, running the list of things I need to pack in my car for my trip, wondering why I decided to steal my grandson and invite my mother on the little getaway I will be heading out on in less than an hour, and why did I just call mom an hour ago and offer to drop off dinner for her and Dad before we leave? Let’s see, B (my son) likes me to use chicken instead of steak and wants hot peppers, onions, & ketchup. K (my daughter) and G (her live-in fiancé’) want to eat later. They want the meat and onions packed separately, so they can assemble their sandwiches later without soggy rolls. My hubby will eat anything I place on his plate, but for him I go “all out”. Wait a minute; I’m going all out for all of them.

Tourists think a cheese steak is a gooey mess, dripping with grease and cheese wiz, purchased on the street in center city. Those are the Mickey D version of Philly’s favorite sandwich. Way to get sick, fast. My steak sandwiches involve more steps than even Alton Brown would consider. I have the oven on constantly (the oven? Isn’t this a fried sandwich)? Preparing the Italian rolls is one of the most important steps. To cut down on drippy mess, everything is cooked separate and drained. Each sandwich assembled for the preference of the recipient. Yes, I am insane, but more on that later.

Here is my recipe for Philly cheese steaks (with apologies to my vegetarian friends)

• · Long Italian rolls (Amaroso preferred)
• · Good quality chipped steak ( like steak-umms)

• · Deli sliced real American cheese

• · Sweet onions (Spanish, or in spring, Vidalias)

All ingredients must be prepared simultaneously. (Have fun!!)

Rolls- slice, open, put in 350 oven till turning gold, cover all inside surface with sliced cheese, return to oven till cheese melts, add ketchup (for those who want it), return to oven.

Steaks, in a deep pot, heat a few tablespoons of virgin olive oil, break steak into pieces, cook over slow heat, turning every minute or so (to keep bottom from overcooking). When there is no more pink showing, dump steak into colander and pat with paper towels.

Onions- Slice, sweat in butter over medium heat, Keep onions from becoming brown, when onions are translucent and limp, drain and dump on paper towels.

Assemble, according to each person’s wants. Onions (or not), steak, more onions (or not) ketchup (or not), Cheese broken in strips and laid diagonal across finished sandwich, put back in the oven till cheese melts.

That’s pretty much how I make them. Now I will throw some reserved onions back in the pan and fry up some thin chicken breast strips with diced long-hots for B’s sandwich)

Of course if you want a real challenge, try making it this way, the way I did this time.

• · Start cooking all ingredients, start making the ice tea, run to throw the wet clothes in the dryer, check food, start dialing phone, continue to run down mental list, sing same 4 lines of current SSIH (song stuck in head) to yourself.

• · Check food(turn down onions, remove rolls), Tell daughter what time you’ll pick up O. Glance at food , end call, run to other side of house grab something you almost forgot to pack, check e=mail on way back to kitchen(might as well, it’s on the way). Run back to kitchen, continue meal prep, Start second pitcher of ice tea, where did I put my camera??, Find camera and throw it in suitcase. Back to kitchen, stir meat, rolls out again, turn off onions. Phone rings, answer phone, tell son what time his meal will be ready. Set table, get O’s little car from the patio and put it in back of car, smile at hubby (who is drumming his fingers on table). Rolls out again. SSIH still spilling from mouth.

• · Finish all cooking, start assembly. Pour ice tea in glasses, call upstairs on intercom for kids. Damn, I almost forgot………run to get item and throw in car. SSIH starting to annoy me, turn on TV (Seinfeld’s on) Get hot sandwiches from oven, cut each in half, put in front of starving family.

• · Sit to eat(yes, I got to do that), Jump up and clean up kitchen, wrap 2 sandwiches in tin foil and return to oven, Run to get last items in car. Check E-mail, turn off computer. Load and start dishwasher. Kiss hubby goodbye, grab hot, wrapped sandwiches and run to car, while yelling over shoulder “please keep kitchen clean, and don’t forget to feed cats”

• · In car, turn IPOD on, choose same SSIH. Drive to parent’s house, drop off dinner. Drive to daughter’s house, pick up O. Drive back to parents, pick up mom.

• · Finally, drive 2 hours to shore. Unload everything. Find out the person who borrowed the house last weekend didn’t clean up or do laundry. Start washer.

Ahhhh, nothing like a relaxing 2 day- get away to the shore. What could be more fun than cutting the lawn with a whinny toddler wrapped around your legs? A chance to kickback and weedwack(cause no one has bothered, even though they promised to. Look at the glorious Vinca choking the gardens! Marvel at how much dust can accumulate. When was the last time house was cleaned?? Oh, yea, the last time I was there.

So this is my first blog post. I decided to tell about myself. I am a mother, who doesn’t know when to stop, and really wouldn’t want to. That is me in a nutshell (figuratively and literally.) Sure, I bitch and complain, but isn’t it obvious I do it because I want to. It makes me happy to take care of everyone, so I do.