So I’m just sitting here minding my own business, eating my pre-workout carbs (Mmmmmm, carbs) and I check a Drudge article about Tom Brady’s stupid outfit for some event.
Slow news day. Silly article but I’m busy enough not to want to get caught up in anything deep right now, so I scroll down and read about silly people doing silly things when this photo catches my eye. Well, maybe not the photo, but the caption underneath it:
Blonde beauties: The star was also seen partying at the event with Toni Garrn,
who looked stunning in a black top and leather skirt.
Uhhhhh, huh? THIS is stunning? This is meth chic, not stunning. Gawd.
The only thing I want to do when I see pictures like this being glorified by the sheep media while eating my carbs is to go squat. So off I go.
She got her looks from her father. He’s a plastic surgeon.
Now that we’re in T minus 5 days to wedding kick-off, execution is coming down to the wire. Which leaves details.
Yuck. Details aren’t much fun. Broad, nondescript, things that are fun to talk about but have no idea how to make happen. That’s the fun in wedding planning. We have an increased sense of urgency to pull this thing off without many hitches and frankly it just makes me want to curl back up in our new Ikea ginormous, pillow top bed and have someone wake me up when it’s all done (the planning, I’ll show up for the party.)
This weekend, Matt and I figured out a great way to pleasantly run two consecutive days full of 6 hours of errands. Stop for food. And drinks. On Saturday, we shopped a little; ate a little. Of course we had to get in our Mint Julep for derby day. It wasn’t good but hey, it’s the thought that counts. Then we shopped a little more; ate a little more and since we were at Cooper’s Hawk to pick up wine-I drank wine. One more stop and then home. But wait a minute, cuz nothing’s ever easy, let’s change up our Friday evening meal with our out of town family and guests.
As much as we love the local brew pubs here, as we got more into the details of what our dinner would look like, we really wanted something different than just hanging out in a loud bar for our intimate little gathering. Add in the fact that it would add another $1200 to a budget and we said nope. Plan B. Uhhhhh, we need a plan B. Crap.
Enter friend’s who are not only award winning mixologists, but also run one of our favorite restaurants and talked the head chef into working our larger than their normal Friday night table’s group into the mix. We could not be more thankful. The fact that it’s about a quarter mile away from home and a mile from folks hotel and it’s a total win. Hit it out of the park! Thanks Brian!!
But now we only have about 150 small things to get done in order to breath easy once friends and family arrive. But we’ll get it done. And what we don’t, folks won’t even realize we wanted to. But now I have to get off the computer, cuz I’m supposed to be working.
In theory there is no difference between theory and practice. In practice there is.
The Minnesota Sports radio guys were having fun talking about the upcoming Game 7 between the Wild and the Av’s yesterday. Excitement was in the air, folks were stoked.
As usual in sport talk, there were speculations and predictions. Lot’s of “If this or that happens we can win” and such. And then someone stated the ultimate cliche’…They’ll need to give 100% for 60 minutes.
Hate. Sports. radio.
Well okay smart guy. What if they give 100% for 60 minutes but the game lasts for, oh I dunno, 65 minutes and 2 seconds? What then? We’re no longer playing 100%? But what if the other team has prepared to play 100% for 80 minutes, or 100 minutes? What then? They win just by preparing better?
Dunno. All we needed was 65 minutes and two seconds so I guess some brilliant coach decided to prepare his team for the whole game, not just the part that was originally scheduled.
The point being, obviously, that we need to prepare for the game; the event; the entire competition whatever that looks like. Those of us who compete don’t just get ready for the scheduled day. We prepare for weather conditions, food, the other competitors, equipment, everything. Everything. There is no “100% for 60 minutes.” There is only “All in until the win.”
OH! The Wild won (obviously.) They now face the Blackhawks. I don’t know how many folks remember the North Stars and Blackhawks games but they were the finest sports had to offer in my childhood. I can’t remember EVER going to a game and not seeing beer being thrown. In fact, the last time I went, I took my Dad to the old Met Center with tickets given to me by a work contact from Chicago. We marched up to a clearly Blackhawk section and the groans were immediate when they saw the Green and Gold Stars shirts we were wearing. I whirled around and took the bull by the horn by stating loudly, “Look! This is the FIRST time I get to be the one to take my DAD to a North Stars game instead of the other way around and we’re going to have a good time and get along! GET IT!” They bought us beer, so it was all good. Heh.
Go Wild! But not for just 100%, but all the way to the win.
If you ask me how I want to be remembered, it is a winner. You know what a winner is? A winner is somebody who has given his best effort, who has tried the hardest they possibly can, who has utilized every ounce of energy and strength within them to accomplish something. It doesn’t mean that they accomplished it or failed, it means that they’ve given it their best. That’s a winner.
Perhaps all the dragons in our lives are princesses who are only waiting to see us act, just once, with beauty and courage. Perhaps everything that frightens us is, in it’s deepest essence, something helpless that wants our love.
Rainer Maria Rilke
The first time I saw V, she walked into WFAC with skirts flowing and perfume wafting. Who. Is. This? And why the FUK does she wear so much perfume?! I was in the middle of a training session and the ladies I was with also wondered what was going on. See, women didn’t just waltz into WFAC and ‘rule the skool’ as she did. Obviously, she was somebody. But who?
After a session or two of her training, I started talking to her. Well, her name was Veronique and she was French. Like, from France. Accent and all. And though her long, flowing jet black hair was beautifully styled and all of her jewelry stayed on during her training sessions (a far cry from stinky t-shirts and shorts of the normal WFAC crew), she was obviously down to earth and here to make friends. She had history with many folks, and a Cancer scare that was trying to poke back into her life. She was happily married to her musician, teacher hubby and raising her two boys (one small, one large, both unique and so reflecting their mama.) We would chat here and there in the gym and then her French Mama came for a visit.
Now, if I’m remembering correctly, her mama was in her late 50’s. Maybe early 60’s. I DO remember that she was drop dead gorgeous and OOZED sex appeal. Like, Sophia Loren sex appeal. Is it wrong to be jealous of a 60 year old? Hope not.
Anyways. That visit was kind of a turning point. I was going through some things and V was like a lighthouse. I, along with so many, steered our ships towards her safe light and unloaded. She (and her non English speaking hot mama) told me what I NEEDED to hear to steer on the correct course (whereas so many “friends” tell us what we WANT to hear.) Not V, loving truth, even in beginning friendship.
She was there for my and Bigg’s beginning. Even one night making Rabbit Stew. I texted him and said I’m at V’s and she’s making rabbit stew. He texted back saying I have awesome friends. Yup. I do. But this fucking cancer thing…always lurking in the shadows. She was being treated, but all of her treatments were “just doing what they have to do.” She never showed fear. She never showed defeat. Just motions. Going through the motions of cancer and living life to it’s absolute fullest. Good laughs; good friends (she has so many); good wine and food; good times. So many good that it amazes me to have so many V stories in such a short span of time.
She was very closed lip’d on what was going on with her illness. Is it serious? Is it not? Is it gone? (We thought so last October, it’s one of the first times I cried in front of Matt. Thinking she was free and clear. I was so thankful I couldn’t help but let the tears flow.) That was around Halloween.
And then November happened. Matt and I were in a downward funnel of shit. Not good. Stuff building and not knowing how to stop until a night occurred where it got out of hand. I let her know things were bad, please send strong thoughts. And she was on it. STOP IT! You two love each other. You must forgive. She was one of the few who said what we NEEDED to hear, not what others told us cuz they thought we WANTED to hear. No “circling the wagons” to keep us shielded from the idea that we may need to change; no “I’ll give you a bottle of Whiskey to make it all better and send you on your drunk and angry way.” Truth. Real. Loving. And it saved us. She. Saved. Us.
And now she’s gone. I could say she left this earth today but the clock has turned and it’s suddenly tomorrow. A day where she hasn’t been with us. Not a good day.
Paul McCartney
Blackbird
Enjoy your weekend. Please. Honor the good. Dismiss the small stuff you can. Life is bigger.
tosabarbell 