Sitting On Sushi and Cloud Nine

Thank heavens I didn’t remove my eye makeup when I went to bed at 3 am this morning. With this leftover eye shadow, certainly I am looking better than I feel today. I mean, no need to waste perfectly good eye makeup, right? So with my sultry, smoky eyes I just ventured out for some scrambled eggs and refried beans – or as I’m calling it, a Helping of Hope.

I had a big time last night.

First of all the Women and Their Work party was a roaring success. We had a thick crowd of people with great attitudes and the energy was fabulous. Everyone embraced the performance art, the silent auction caused a row which drove the bidding higher, and despite the fact this was a non-profit event, we had plenty of booze. It was a hell of a party.

For me, the most fun was celebrating with two of my nearest & dearest friends who are on the board of Women and Their Work. These are the birds who got me involved in this event and it was a real treat to collaborate with them on all the party planning. I love our portrait on the sushi stools.













My good friends KK and SalGal of The Midlife Gals were a riotous addition to the scene. They set up camp in this funky niche replete with chain link curtains and a mod white leather mattress. They lured unsuspecting souls into their little padded cell to interview them and overlay their irreverent editorial. It was a hoot. I’m sure we’re all going to regret our on-camera antics when the footage hits you tube.

But of course I’ll share the link with you the moment I have it.

After the party I hopped over to the Saxon Pub because I had my heart set on hearing Seth Walker. You may recall from my report on Springfest, Seth Walker was a highlight of that festival for me. I’ve been spinning his tunes round the clock for the past two weeks and am keen to see him play just as often as I can.

So imagine my delight when I sauntered up to the Saxon Pub in my party clothes and Seth Walker was standing right outside! Oh my heavens, oh my heavens, oh my heavens.

Now we all know I have a long history of going shy when seeing musicians up close & personal. Over the years I’ve had run-ins with Charlie Robison, Cody Canada, Cory Morrow and Jim Lauderdale – just to name a few. But inevitably when given the face-to-face opportunity to speak with them, I totally freeze up. I just panic like a schoolgirl and flee.

But last night I broke my curse. Granted I was flustered and breathless and babbling like a fool, but hey, I had a little exchange with Seth Walker. And I even pulled myself together to ask for a picture.

Hee hee hee.

He was just as down-to-earth and sweet as he could be. I wouldn’t have expected such a smokin’ hot electric bluesman to be so sweet. Mrs. Walker clearly raised a very polite son. Then of course he and his band cranked things up on stage and I was putty for the rest of the night. Hot damn! That boy was pouring on the blues and he was pouring it on thick.

Just between you and me I think he was singing ‘Steady’ right to me.

I know, I know. They say musicians can’t see a thing up there under those lights. But I’m just saying…right to me.

The whole night was such a gas. My feet are killing me from dancing in these evil heels, I’m wearing eye makeup that I first put on about 5.30 pm yesterday, and I have to switch into mommy mode any minute. But I’m on cloud nine. The art party was sparkly and fun. I got to boogie down to some delicious blues tunes. And I chatted with Seth Walker.

Kick that around for awhile.



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Come See Me Get My Butt Kicked in Ping Pong

Women and Their Work is a non-profit organization in Austin, TX that promotes women artists. The heartbeat of their operation is their centrally-located art gallery, which has won ‘Best Gallery’ in Austin at least five times in recent years.

Since launching in 1978, Women and Their Work has promoted 1,787 artists in 248 exhibitions, organized 109 music, theater and dance events, 19 literary readings, 13 film festivals, and 328 workshops.

These birds are busy. And they are damn good at what they do.

Which why I am deeply privileged to be involved with their 30th Anniversary Celebration. This Saturday April 19th, Women and Their Work is hosting a bash that is not to be missed:



Saturday April 19th from 7 until 10 pm
Be a part of the year’s most entertaining and unpredictable party

Click Here To Get Your Tickets Online

There will be a silent auction with wonderful art by Kate Breakey, Candace Briceno, Diana Dopson, Joey Fauerso, Malou Flato, Martha Gannon, Emily Tracy-Haas, Jan Heaton, Lance Letscher, Bonnie Lynch, and Denise Prince Martin.

There will be all sorts of InterActivities such as playing ping pong with national champs. That's right, you heard me. Ping Pong. Now I don't think I'm very good at ping pong -- but then again I've never played in heels. Could be my magic weapon. Don't you want to come see how this plays out?

And you don't want to miss the other InterActivities such as wii, xbox, guitar hero, Atari, performance dance, disco dancing, quick draw portraits, and comedic video interviews with our good friends from The Midlife Gals.

Don’t you want to show your support for the women of Texas who keep putting the ART in PARTY? Here are some easy ways to help:

1. But a ticket and come drink and dance this Saturday night
2. Email this post to anyone and everyone
3. If you can’t make the party, then consider becoming a friend of Women and Their Work

Women. Art. Parties. Libations. It’s a good combination – help us keep it going for another 30 years…. Click Here to Keep Reading...

Jumpin Like a Hothouse Georgia Juke Joint

Last weekend I was in Atlanta, Georgia to celebrate my cousin’s wedding. I should probably go ahead and take this opportunity to issue a formal apology for my unabashed, feverish, relentless, revival-style, reckless abandon on the dance floor.

Damnation they had some good music at this wedding!

My cousin works in the music industry so it’s understandable that the music was a top priority – and they nailed it. I can’t remember the last time I had such a good time at a wedding. And it started with the rehearsal dinner. I polished off my delightful piece of Elvis cake – red velvet of course – and we danced to the band until they scraped me off the dance floor and forced me onto a bus to head home.

But no worries because we got to do it all over again the next night. Bigger and better.

 The Breeze Kings played at the reception. An Atlanta-based blues band with a hipster sound and spicy little edge. When was the last time you showed up at a wedding reception and the lead musician was pulling out a collection of a dozen different harmonicas?

I can’t tell you the names of the songs they played, but it was all so good that I danced like my life depended on it. We’re not talking socially polite dancing that you do when your priest and grandparents are nearby watching. I’m talking full-tilt, shake-it-til-you-break-it, boogie-til-you-just-can’t-boogie-no-more.

I’m pretty sure I shamed the entire family name. I’d love to blame it on too much liquor, but I only had a couple of glasses of wine. I’m telling you it was The Breeze Kings. The Breeze Kings and their live, hoppin’, swingin’, grab-you-by-gut-and spin-you-round-and-round live music.

A fabulous female blues singer named Sweet Betty joined the band for a few numbers and blew everyone away. Now I am no stranger to the powers of a great southern songstress, but good night nurse this lady could sing! Everyone had goose bumps. I’m pretty sure she saved my soul.

Whew. Thank heavens I can cross that off my to do list.

I loved it all. Of all the gamillions of weddings I’ve been to, I’m not sure I have ever seen a bride and groom bring so much of their own personality to the whole affair. And they looked ridiculously happy and totally in love.

So just when I thought it was time to retire my very high-heeled dancing shoes…

As every wedding party seems programmed to do, we made our way back to the hotel bar like a flock of sweaty homing pigeons. We arrived at the very large bar area to find another live band, the remains of two other wedding groups, and civilians in street clothes. With badges.

Aha. A convention.

Turns out a group of Developmental Biologists were in town and hired a band for their convention. I couldn’t shake the feeling I needed to be a little closer to that music. So I saddled up to some of those Developmental Biologists, but sadly they wanted nothing to do with the likes of me. I, however, was undeterred. I found some friendlier Developmental Biologists, who frankly seemed infinitely more in charge of things, and they graciously invited me to come listen to the band.

The BooHoo Ramblers are a roots/country/blues/bluegrass band from Decatur Georgia, and they are fabulous. A mix of original songs like “Outta Here” – which I instantly loved – and some well-chosen cover tunes. Patrick, who is from Ireland and utterly adorable, played the fiddle like he had placed his own bet with Johnny and The Devil.

I'm here to tell ya that hell did break loose in Georgia and Patrick went home with the shiny fiddle made of gold.

Meanwhile the lead dude Clark Ashton sings and plays guitar while tapping his foot on a tambourine on the ground. I was mesmerized. I spent half the time trying to figure out if he had it on some sort spring action. But no, he’s just that good. The BooHoo Ramblers were electrifying, soothing and haunting all at the same time.

It was loads of fun. So much good music in one little ole evening I could barely process it all. And the dancing! I may never walk again. I’ll be sore for weeks to come. If I’d known there was going to be so much dancing I would have prepared so much differently. I would have stretched. And hydrated. And worn comfortable shoes.

Oh hell, that’s a lie. The shoes were fabulous.

 

So if you’re in the Atlanta area…

The Breeze Kings

The Breeze Kings on MySpace

See The Breeze Kings this Thursday April 17^th at The Northside Tavern in Atlanta GA

The BooHoo Ramblers

The BooHoo Ramblers on Myspace

See The BooHoo Ramblers Thursday May 1^st at Twains in Decatur GA

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The Spirit of the Suwannee

My eyes are just now coming into focus and my motor skills starting to click back into action. I’ve just returned from a trippy little trip to Florida for ‘Springfest’ – a three day music festival held at The Spirit of the Suwannee campgrounds.

I suppose the best way to describe the music at Springfest is folksy, jammin’ bluegrass. But like a newly branded and re-launched Oldsmobile, this is not your father’s bluegrass. These musicians rocked the sap from the trees and rattled the fillings in your teeth.

Hot Buttered Rum earned their title leaving me feeling giddy and full like I’d had a big country breakfast and too many hot toddies. They were adorable and had the crowd hoppin’. The Infamous Stringdusters were a great afternoon toe-tapping show. And you could feel the energy shift when David Grisman came out. The fun got serious with this living legend. He took his mandolin to war (friendly fire of course) with a teenage mandolin prodigy and together they made some magic.

We saw Donna The Buffalo the first afternoon, but we were wilting in the sun a bit, and truth be told we were more consumed with rating the dancing hippie girls and their hula hoops. I am so getting a hula hoop. I don’t care how long it takes I am going to learn to dance with a hula hoop. Check back with me, I may have to set up a unique website just to chart my progress.

But we saw Donna The Buffalo the next night and loved them. The crowd was lit-up and the musicians really delivered. It’s always a good time when the accordions and the washboards come out to play.

Of course I came to the festival with my natural draw toward Texas and Tennesee tunes, and my bands represented well. I’ve been listening to Guy Clark since I was about five years old but have never seen him play. So it was damn cool to hear him croon Texas 1947 and LA Freeway right before my very own eyes.

Jim Lauderdale wins my Hillbilly Sex Symbol award for the festival. He had this kind of 70s-style pompadour hair, royal blue tuxedo pants, and the cuffs on his shirt were open – not rolled up mind you – just the pearl snaps were undone and the sleeves hanging loose at his wrists. Ooh la la.

Oh yeah, and his music was great.

I saw him by the merchandise table that night, and he totally busted me ogling him. He came my way and I probably could have shared a little repartee, but I got shy, panicked like a schoolgirl, and turned the other way.

Amy LaVere was out of sight. She’s a pocket sized little beauty who plays the standup bass and bounces between a super-sweet baby voice and belting out southern-fried ballads with the power of Ethel Merman. Boys’ hearts fluttered her way, while I was dreamy for her guitar player.

Now Seth Walker plays his fresh style of electric blues in my Austin neighborhood on a weekly basis. But after two airplane rides and five-hours in the car, I felt so incredibly lucky to see him in this setting. A rustic, woodsy amphitheater surrounded by tall live oaks that were covered in Spanish moss.

There was so much Spanish moss dripping from the trees that everything began to look like a Salvador Dali painting. (Admittedly, the exorbitant volumes of Sweetwater beer may have played a hand in this.) I love Spanish moss, and it was a badass backdrop for all this delicious music. I’ve always said I could never be a spy because if caught, all they’d have to do is dangle some Spanish moss in front of me and I’d sing like a drunk dizzy bird.

Speaking of being a drunk dizzy bird…I know we loved loved loved Railroad Earth, but I can’t tell you why. They played late on Friday and that show is a bit hazy.

Of course the music was sublime, but it was the people that made the trip so special for me. Lounging around our campfire, we laughed at our own recycled stories until our cheeks hurt. And out among the crowds, tie-dyed hospitality was everywhere. It was all peace love & brotherhood. Everyone was warm and open and just so grateful to be there.

As we followed the breadcrumbs back to our tents each night, we made a point of walking up to visit random campsites – you know just to introduce ourselves, check out their fire, see what bands they’d enjoyed. In the real world our drunken pop-ins might not have been well received, but in this hippie utopia we were greeted with genuine enthusiasm -- and quite often a beer.

It was a magical weekend and I can honestly say that the Spirit of the Suwannee is highly contagious. I just hope they never find a cure.

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Whole Lotta Love for London

We knew Paris was going to be tough to beat. But like the new season of the Bachelor, London was calling.

Seven Highlights of Our Time in London:

1. My Old House. When I was just about the same age as Little Chick we moved to London for two years. Showing her the house where we lived was surreal.

2. The London Eye. I will admit I was a touch cynical about The London Eye. Why would I want to go to England and ride a ferris wheel? But it was pretty spectacular. The design is amazing and the view of the city sublime.

3. Changing of the Guards at Whitehall Palace. I wandered into a covered tunnel to take a picture of one of the standing guards – you know the ones that won’t crack a smile, wince or even blink for a tourist? In order to get his picture I had to step backward up on a step. He pounded his foot on the ground like a horse. I couldn’t believe it! I got him to move! I was so excited I stepped backwards up a few more steps to get more pics. Well he grunted and pulled his sword on me. Yeah....turns out I was backing into an entrance to Whitehall Palace. Understandably a no-no.

So apparently you can get them to move and make noise if you accidentally storm the palace.

4. Taxi Battle. It’s never an easy task to land a taxi at night when an entire theatre of people pour onto the streets at the same time. We angled and positioned. Spread out on separate corners. Finally I eyed one coming from far far away. I raced and ran and flailed and waved. The driver gave me a nod and pointed to the place he could pull over. I shouted at my mom and Little Chick to join me as I ran to the taxi. Looking for holes like Emmitt Smith, I was dodging pedestrians, spinning around rubbish bins and leaping the sidewalk railings.

I arrived and was chatting with the driver through the window when out of the blue some crazy British woman whacked me with her umbrella and began squawking that she was taking that cab. Unbelievable. I’ll spare you the condescending martyr speech I gave her as I allowed her to take the taxi but suffice to say it made her look so stupid that even her husband shook his head in shame and apologized to me.

5. Eating at the Old Hot Spots. It was so fun to take Little Chick to all our favorite places to eat. The same head waiter is still at the Brompton Brasserie. Tootsie’s has had an extreme makeover but it’s still there and it’s still delish. We finished the trip with a gluttonous trip to Fortnum & Mason.

6. Brass Rubbings and Making Friends. Little Chick had her heart set on doing the unicorn. I spend ten minutes trying to talk her out of the unicorn and convince her to do something cool like a knight or a queen or a gargoyle. She wanted the unicorn. As she went to grab it, a little two-year old girl was about to take the unicorn and immediately became upset. So Little Chick let her have the unicorn. I was so proud. We made friends with the little girl and her brother, who was about the same age as Little Chick. It was a very sweet spin on the traditional art of brass rubbings.

7. Meeting Jimmy Page. Ok, so that’s a stretch. But our favorite cab driver, Mike, had picked up Jimmy Page just one week before us, and Mike swears Jimmy Page was seated in the exact same seat that I was in. As the new British bachelor would say, I fancy the pants off Led Zeppelin. So that was fun.

And London rocked.

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Oh La Vache!

I am so very sorry that things have been quiet here at Chicken Fried Therapy. I’ve just returned from a fabulous whirlwind trip to Paris & London with my mother and daughter, and re-entry has been brutal.

The last time I was in Paris it was 1999 I was ginormously pregnant. So it was beyond surreal to be back with Little Chick in tow. This trip was so fantastic I can’t possibly condense it into one post, so pardon my reckless literary abandon as I ramble over the next few days. I’ll start with Paris…

Seven Unforgettable Highlights of our time in Paris:

1. Seeing the look on Little Chick’s face when she first saw the Eiffel Tower. We landed in Paris around 2 pm, checked into the hotel, unpacked for 45 minutes, and grabbed the Metro straight to see the Eiffel tower. We were on the train when it popped into view. Her smile was priceless.

2. Eating at Chez Andre. My parents ate there in 1972. I ate there on my very first trip to Paris in 1980 at the age of ten. I tried escargot and fell in love. We had high hopes that picky picky picky Little Chickie would expand her horizons and do the same for nostalgia’s sake. And technically, she did, eventually, try a miniscule crumb of escargot. But not without drama and tears and hemming and hawing.

To be clear, she received zero pressure from us! She really wanted to do it. But was upset with herself when she chickened out. So I wrapped a teeny speck of escargot in gobs of butter and bread. She closed her eyes and choked it down. Literally, she started choking. I had to jump up and stick my hand in her mouth and extract the half eaten snail-bread-butter mass.

With a restaurant full of French eyes glaring at me.

She snuck another small snail crumblette in a teeny piece of bread, we paid the bill and quickly hauled ass. Hopefully if we wait another decade or so we can go back to Chez Andre and keep the family tradition alive. But it may take awhile for the waitstaff to forget the little scene we caused.

3. Little Chick desperately wants to be a fashion designer and lives and breathes for Coco Chanel. Her whole life is about researching Coco Chanel. She even dressed as Chanel last Halloween. So we made a wonderful pilgrimage to the original boutique on the Rue Cambon. The sales associates were quite smitten with Little Chick and spent an inordinate amount of time showing her around while she asked them pressing questions about why Chanel loved tweed and camellias and was buried in Switzerland instead of France.













4. Seeing the Mona Lisa. And singing Nat King Cole’s “Mona Lisa….Mona Lisa…” in the crowd until Little Chick became so embarrassed she wouldn’t stand near me any longer.











5. Climbing the dome at Sacre Couer with Little Chick. I’ll tell you what…I’m glad I’ve been working out! Sheesh, those were some steep and winding steps. Little Chick was a little frightened as we neared the top. She kept saying, “Ooh, we’re going to die! Ooh, we’re going to die!”

Imagine our alarm when we started to actually hear the angels sing.

Inside the church the nuns choir began to sing acapella and it was amplified in the stairwell near the top of the dome. It really did feel like we were ascending to heaven with angels greeting us.

6. Crepes. Crepes. Nutella Crepes. I actually had convinced myself that Nutella wasn’t chocolate so much as a valuable source of protein. It has the word ‘nut’ in the title. It has to be good for you, right?

Hell I practically had myself believing it counted as a leafy green vegetable. Damn that stuff is so good. And what is it about those simple crepes that are so delish?












7. The only phrase I remember from 10th grade French class is “Oh La Vache!” I’m not sure but I think it’s meant to be used kinda like Oh My Heavens or Holy Cow. But quite literally it translates to Oh The Cow.

Which I think is hysterical.

I’ve been waiting and waiting for decades, but lo these many years the situation just hasn’t presented itself. Until one day near the Tuileries. Little Chick was picking through trinkets in a very cramped little souvenir shop. Some woman accidentally knocked over an entire display of miniature Eiffel Tower key chains (thank the Lord it wasn’t one of us) and they went crashing all over the floor. I looked at the shopkeeper, pressed my hands to my cheeks with wide eyes, and exclaimed “Oh La Vache!” Ooh, it felt so good.

Then we helped pick them up.

The trip was sublime, but oh la vache I am happy to be home and connect with all of you! Oh la vache. Enjoy the slideshow and stay tuned. The next post will be London. Oh la vache.

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Leap of faith Friday #5

Here we are. Leap Year Day and the final Leap of Faith Friday. It’s been such a fun campaign so before announcing this week’s LEAP, I thought I’d take a look back at my four previous LEAPS…

#1 -- Launching my new blog Fly Fish Chick

What a fun adventure. The new blog is going gangbusters, although I had no idea how hard it would be to juggle two blogs – along with motherhood and everyday life. But I am undeterred. I’m determined to increase my posting frequency on both blogs, because each are proving to be deeply rewarding in very unique ways.

#2 -- Emailing my college writing professor

Well, I haven’t heard back from her. But it’s no matter because all of your comments were so personal and so thoughtful. I couldn’t ask for anything more. Thank you!

#3 – Eliminating caffeine

Whoa. Who forgot to tell me about this unique brand of hell? I can’t tell you how many times I almost cheated. I can, however, tell you how many times I did cheat: three times. I made it six days without a Diet Coke or Diet Dr Pepper, and it was pretty brutal. A week ago Thursday I had one diet coke at a texmex restaurant. It was either that or 18 margaritas. Then I buckled and had two diet cokes this week to mitigate a vicious migraine.

I probably would have cheated more but I imagined some CFT reader with a hidden camera spying on me at 7-11. Kept me on the straight and narrow.

The good news is that I am SLEEPING again! I really believe the obscene amounts of Diet Dr Pepper were the culprit. So since I’ve started sleeping better, I’ve decided to stick with the no caffeine program.

#4 My first podcast

Goodness. I don’t know what to say about last Friday’s podcast. Your comments were so flattering – I had no idea I had such an interesting voice. Ooh la la. Guess it’s a good thing I used to smoke after all.

(Just kidding. It’s a horrible, vile, filthy habit. Never do it. Blah blah blah.)

This past Tuesday I was ordering donut holes at a Shipley’s counter and the gentlemen next to me interrupted and asked if anyone had ever told me I sounded exactly like Demi Moore. With a straight face I turned to him and replied, “Actually about twenty-two people told me that just the other day.”

Poor guy was a little confused and proceeded to spill his coffee all over the counter.

#5 – This one is up to you...

Here’s the deal. I no longer smoke. I have given up caffeinated soft drinks. Apparently I’m wired like a game of Wack-a-mole, because everytime I beat down once vice, another one pops up in its place.

Lately, it’s eating. Copious amounts of food, namely sweets. I am happy that my lungs are getting a break. And I’m thrilled to be sleeping again. But we are marching the wrong way up the scales, kids.

For heavens sakes, I only made two New Years Resolutions: 1) start drunk dialing friends and 2) get so skinny that friends and family start to worry about me.

How in the world am I going to accomplish this if I’m replacing smokes and cokes with cupcakes and queso? Not to mention complete abandonment of my regular exercise routine.

So my final LEAP OF FAITH is in your hands. Here are some things I am considering to kickstart the weight loss campaign. Which do you think I should do:

A) South Beach Diet
B) Kickboxing lessons
C) Start running on the treadmill instead of just walking
D) Weight training program with trainer
E) Meet with a nutritionist
F) Take up NIA classes again

Thanks for following along with Leap of Faith Friday. Don’t forget to visit The Busy Dad Blog and Bliss in Bloom to see their final leaps. If you did a final LEAP on your blog please shout about it in a comment so we can hop over and cheer for you. Finally, some bloggers have asked if we can keep this campaign going. Hell yeah! Take the picture, make your leaps and keep it alive. More power to you.

Happy Leap Year everybody.
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