Mixed Meat Hotdogs

Here's a list of things it's okay to break up over:

You like all-beef hotdogs. He likes mixed meat hotdogs.




*That's about it. With every other issue there's room to compromise.

It Has Come to My Attention...

I did not report the events of my recent car meltdown fairly. George Clooney did more than just yell at me to keep driving down a busy street. It was George who talked to the mechanic and knew exactly what to do with the battery. George also cleared away the corrosion from the old battery with a liter of Coke and installed the new battery as the sun went down and the crickets began to chirp. My sincere thanks to George. Smooch.

I finished up a summer class at the end of June and had a glorious and productive 8 week vacation planned. I was going to paint my basement and organize the hundreds of recipes I've printed in recent years. I was going to organize all my papers and my filing system. I was going to clean out closets and read and keep my house spotless everyday.

It was going pretty well. Then a night at a Neil Diamond concert changed everything. I still have a peach basement, baskets/boxes/bags of recipes, a stack of IRA statements, mortgage statements, and bank statements I need to file, full closets, and dust bunnies.

And now I have only 1 week to cram in all these good intentions. Classes start again on Monday and I'm being a big baby about it. Expect me to be highly dramatic.

In other news, this is what Roni's been up to

Napping on the newel post. 

And now for a take-a-step-back moment:

Earlier this summer I posted a comment on Facebook, that I couldn't get over all the screaming fans--mostly women--who stood outside of Rockefeller Center on a Friday morning and swooned over the rapper Chris Brown. The same guy that beat up his girlfriend just a few years ago, putting her in the hospital, was now being celebrated by Matt Lauer, Anne Curry, Al Roker, and thousands of concert goers. I don't believe a person is the product of the worst thing they've ever done, but c'mon....the guy put his girlfriend in the hospital. Does ANYONE have respect for a man who thinks it's ok to beat up a woman?

Now, after Rhianna gave a tearful interview with Oprah, the Today Show is dragging out the guy's skeletons and reminding us all of his sins. The slant of "how-could-she-forgive-this-guy, how-could-she-still-want-to-be-with-him" really grates my cheese. How quickly you forget, NBC/The Today Show.

Thanks Universe!

You know how sometimes you're at work and it gets to be about 4:30 and you realize "I don't have anywhere to be tonight" and you're emotionally overcome with the endless opportunities that await you at 5pm? (When in reality, you know darn well you're going to park yourself on the couch and watch the Olympics?) That was me yesterday, walking to my car at 5pm, and thinking about all the housework TV watching I could get done tonight.

Life has a funny way of biting you in the butt.

I thought it would be a great night to go talk to the folks at AT&T about switching my service and getting on a family plan with George. My contract with my long-standing service provider is almost up and I'm ready to ditch this BlackBerry. I went into the Verizon store in May and told them I knew I wasn't qualified for an upgrade yet, but could I please get a DOWNGRADE??? The BlackBerry was really grating my cheese. Anyway, in most cases, talking about cell phone plans would be the worst part of a person's day. Not for us!

We walked back out to my car after a great and informative meeting with the AT&T person to find that my car wouldn't start. Click click click is the most it would give me. George checked under the hood and found a badly corroded battery but I insisted it couldn't be the battery because the radio was playing and my little "Battery's working" light was still flashing.

I called AAA and asked for roadside assistance, then we walked over to Del Taco for a couple of bland tacos. The service guy showed up and jumped the car and told me I might have one more start on this battery. So, George and I drove straight to Meijer to buy a new battery. I sat in the car and kept it running while he went in the store with my debit card. (Is that a sign of love and trust, or WHAT?!?!) The engine was making some funny funny sounds and as George walked back to the car empty handed, the dials in the car all went flat and the airbag and gas lights came on (even though we had just filled the tank). Oh, and there was some dangerous lurching going on as I pulled out of the parking spot. The battery was going to die.

I start screaming that we're going to be stranded, George screams at me to "don't stop! Just keep driving!" and so instead of driving around the Meijer parking lot repeatedly to keep the battery charged, I decide to pull onto Grape Road to "just keep driving." Now I'm in traffic, screaming, running redish lights, careening through store parking lots in an effort to not stop the car. Of course by not stopping I have now driven us in the opposite direction of George's house and now need to make a series of left turns to get to his house and "safety." Luckily, the brief Dukes of Hazard South Bend drive down Grape was enough to charge the battery and get us home, all so that we could take George's car and drive BACK out to Grape, go to Wal Mart, buy the battery, drive back to George's, and install it.

I walked in the door at 10:20pm. Oh well. I can always watch TV tonight.

I'm a Believer

I never told you about Neil. Here's the full scoop:

We packed up the babies and grabbed the old ladies the car and headed off to Chicago around 2pm. We were a little nervous about parking at the United Center but we were pleasantly surprised to find out that arriving 4 hours early means you are the first one in the parking lot!

We did NOT park at the back of the lot and run to the United Center, ala the Griswolds, but parked in the very first parking spot at the front of the lot. WE'RE #1!!

The security guard told us as we entered that this "wouldn't be a big concert." I practically leaped from the passenger side to yell at the man that this was the biggest concert of my life and "We've got COSTUMES!!" (That was an exaggeration. George Clooney did not have a costume.)

Our honor of being the first in the parking lot lasted about 3 minutes, before our new friends/clingers parked right next to us. She outdid my customized Neil t-shirt with one of her own and rolled her eyes at me when I said it was my 1st Neil concert. When you've been to five I guess you get the privilege of carrying a chip on your shoulder.

We sweated our way down the block to the Billy Goat Tavern for a Cheezbugga Cheezbugga. The crew there knew their crowd and plugged the jukebox with song after song of Neil goodness. I serenaded George and did my best chair dancing since high school.

We walked back to the parking lot and got into the car so I could change into my "costume." As we people watched, my hopes of not being the youngest people there began to fade. I realized there was a good reason there was no opening act and the concert was slated to end at 10:30pm. I also realized I wouldn't have to worry about standing throughout the whole concert.

After we were inside it was a mad dash to the souvenir stands. I hemmed and hawed over t-shirts and sweatshirts and programs and stuffed frogs, ultimately deciding that the best souvenir would be my pictures. Boy, was I wrong.

We made our way to the seats on the floor in row 22 and had people take our picture.

Then we read the Tweets about the concert that were being shown on the jumbo screens. Lots of "Shout out to my mom at the Neil Diamond concert!" and "Neil, play Forever in Blue Jeans for my grandma!" Thank God we finally found some hipsters to make us feel better.

The concert started with Neil coming on stage to Soolaimon/Brother Love's Traveling Salvation Show and I thought I was going to explode with happiness. I danced and danced and sang and sang. I was not the most exuberant person there--that honor went to a woman seated about 10 rows ahead of us. For the entire length of the concert she held the open LP cover of The Jazz Singer over her head with one hand, while waving manically to Neil with the other. After he FINALLY waved back to her (not gonna lie...I was jealous) she then used that arm to very theatrically mimic all of Neil's movements while he sang.

Overall Neil was a total class act. People made fun of me for wanting to go so bad but honestly, the guy is like 71 years old and he sang for the ENTIRE TWO HOURS. Hardly any chit chat, no costume changes, no pyrotechnics...just awesome music.

And of course, even more magical than the pictures, the parking spot, the fans, the t-shirt, and my memories of the concert, was the life-changing moment after the concert when George Clooney got down on his knee.

Best concert ever.