Very Dancy Music

This may be the single greatest music discovery I have made. EVER.

Check out Leoncie. It will change your life. Really.

(Thank you Bestweekever.tv I love you.)

Fun Facts #1!!!!

Today I'm introducing a new feature to my little ole blog. It's called "FUN FACTS!!" I'm so excited! I have been accused (by people who are supposed to love me) of being a geeky nerd just 'cause I was on my high school's Quiz Bowl team (and the district high scorer my senior year, thankyouverymuch). This is not completely true. I was a nerd, but not a geeky one. Really. But what's a girl who has a freakish ability to remember insignificant knowledge supposed to do? Anywho, I learn things from time to time that blow my skirt up but are not significant enough to warrant an entire post. Also, I have a couple of ADORABLE nephews who are fond of sharing their own fun facts, generally about medieval weaponry or the insect world.





My fun facts will probably not be in these two fields per se, but they are in honor of Jacob and Curtis nonetheless.

So, here we go:

Fun Fact #1: "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" as sung during the traditional seventh inning stretch is in fact ONLY THE CHORUS!! The song actually has several verses and centers around the story of a girl who refuses to go out on a date unless the guy will take her out to the ballgame. A girl after my own heart.




















Nelly Kelly loved baseball games,
Knew the players, knew all their names,
You could see her there ev'ry day,
Shout "Hurray," when they'd play.
Her boy friend by the name of Joe
Said, "To Coney Isle, dear, let's go,"
Then Nelly started to fret and pout,
And to him I heard her shout.

"Take me out to the ball game,
Take me out with the crowd.
Buy me some peanuts and cracker jack,
I don't care if I never get back,
Let me root, root, root for the home team,
If they don't win it's a shame.
For it's one, two, three strikes, you're out,
At the old ball game."

Nelly Kelly was sure some fan,
She would root just like any man,
Told the umpire he was wrong,
All along, good and strong.
When the score was just two to two,
Nelly Kelly knew what to do,
Just to cheer up the boys she knew,
She made the gang sing this song.

"Take me out to the ball game,
Take me out with the crowd.
Buy me some peanuts and cracker jack,
I don't care if I never get back,
Let me root, root, root for the home team,
If they don't win it's a shame.
For it's one, two, three strikes, you're out,
At the old ball game."

(copyright 1927)



(I had to. I bleed Dodger blue and this picture is mythical. Click here if you, like my own sister, don't know why.)

Austen's First Day at the Cabin

I HAD to get out of Vegas this past weekend. It was hot, I was tired, and I couldn't stomach the thought of spending the weekend huddled in my apartment trying to avoid the heat.

Plan #1: Go to the cabin. Unfortunately, this plan had its flaws. My parents don't spend weekends at the cabin as a matter of course, so I thought I'd be all alone. I've done that before, and it was lovely, but I wasn't sure if that would be the best thing. Then, I found out that my brother would be there with 5 or 6 12-year old Boy Scouts. NO THANK YOU VERY MUCH.

Plan #2: Go to visit Mom and Dad in Toquerville. Of course, it's still hot there, but at least 10 degrees cooler than Vegas and Mom, Dad, and Matthew's family would be there. Also, it's NOT Vegas.

I went with plan #2, and got to my mom's on Friday at about 3 pm. We got to hang out with my nieces Friday evening and ate delicious steaks. My dad was supposed to come home from the cabin that evening for the weekend.

I slept in the world's most comfortable bed in the cool basement, which meant that I slept in until about 9 am (which is a miracle for an insomniac like me)to find that my father had gone back to the cabin to work ('cause when it comes to the cabin he's a man possessed.), and my mom wanted to go up for the day to help him.

So, I actually got a combination of my first two plans, and was excited to introduce Austen to the cabin.

It was love at first sniff for Austen, like it's been for every single dog in the family. We went for a walk and he dug himself a little hole in the cool dark earth.





Of course, by the end of the day he was a completely red dog rather than the red and white one that went up the mountain that morning. Also, he slept the entire way home. Anything that wears that little troublemaker out is a good thing in my book.

Happy Father's Day

I didn't get to see my dad today, and being Father's Day and all, I've been thinking about him.

There's a story my dad loves to tell about a conversation we had when I was about 2 years old. We were alone (I still don't know how that happened) and sitting down to eat lunch. He said, "Maury will you say the prayer?" I responded, "I'm not Maury." You see, I was in my fanciful phase when I would go into character and refuse to answer to any name but the one I'd chosen for the day. He was used to this behavior and said, "Ok, Cinderella, will you say the prayer?" Wrong again. He tried every name he could think of and was wrong time and time again. Finally, he asked, "Well, who are you?" I responded, "I'm Dumbo." Relieved to finally know who I was for the day he asked, "Dumbo, will you say the prayer?" According to my father I gave him a scathing look and replied, "Daddy, elephants DON'T PRAY!" There you have it. Our relationship in a nutshell.

My dad and I haven't always seen eye to eye, and he hasn't always "gotten me" (and vice versa), but I've always known that he loves me.

When I was born girl #4 in the days before ultrasounds, instead of being angry, (like my mom who didn't even want to hold me she was so mad I wasn't a boy) he was thrilled to have another girl. When after a couple of days they still didn't have a name for me, it was my father who came up with mine. I'm the only child in my family who's entire name was chosen by Dad.

When I was afraid of rollercoasters he forced me to ride "The Colossus" at Magic Mountain because he didn't want me to live my life in fear. Even though I cried the entire time in line and assured him that I'd hate him forever, I'm grateful he did that.

He patiently taught me the rules of baseball and football, and then talked sports with me just like he did with my brothers. In fact, it was my father and I who decided in the early 90's to be 49er fans. I was always the only one among my girlfriends that understood what was going on in the game when we went to Dodger games in high school, and in college I was often the only girl watching Monday Night Football. While this didn't help me get any more dates, it did bring me a lot of joy.

When I recieved my patriarchal blessing my mom was sick with a migraine and he and I went alone. I remember going to El Gallito afterwards and him proudly telling our LDS server "My girl's going on a mission!" I was only 15 and had six years to go, but he was so excited, and he never made me feel like my mission was less important than either of my brothers'.

When I wanted to go to BYU instead of Ricks like the rest of my siblings he worried and fretted that I'd feel lost and alone, just a number out of so many, but when I got in and won a few scholarships he was proud and happy.

When I served my mission in New York City I know he worried the entire 18 months. My father is a wonderful story teller, a talented writer, and a skilled surgeon, but a letter writer: he aint. Yet,while I served my mission he wrote me at least once a month, catching me up on the Dodgers, the 49ers, or the BYU Cougars (depending on the season), and kept me up to date with the latest Seinfeld episode. Every letter he ended by telling me that he prayed for my safety, often multiple times a day.

When I returned to BYU and pursued a career in Secondary Education, my father urged me to instead become a college professor. He just KNEW I was too smart to teach High School. I disagreed completely, but love him for thinking that.

My dad may not "get" me, but I've never doubted that he loves me. Thank you Daddy for always being there. I have never doubted that you love me and would be there to catch me if I fall. I love you

Let me build a bridge...

When I went to college I had the great blessing of finding friends that were the perfect fit. One friend in particular, Melissa, and I were about as much alike as two girls who grew up on opposite sides of the country could be. The most amazing thing was the similarities between our music collections. We had MANY of the same albums, and when one of us hadn't heard of something the other one owned we ended up loving it (with the exception of Blind Melon editor's note: It has been brought to my attention that my memory decieves me. It was Molly, not Melissa that liked Blind Melon. However, I do know that we disagreed about some band/artist. Maybe it was Bryan Adams. and ABBA. I couldn't stand the former, it took a while for Melissa to warm up to the latter.)We both loved Crowded House, a band most people are mostly meh about, and discovered that both of us had rollerskated in the driveway to the Xanadu soundtrack as 10 year olds. One of the FIRST things we bonded about was our mutual love of Sting. We loved him with a pure and total love. We were so passionate about him that if the rest of our friends and roommates had originally held only lukewarm feelings for Sting, we soon indoctrinated them.



Our favorite song was "Fortress Around Your Heart" and as Melissa owned a videotape of Sting's videos we not only listened to the song repeatedly, but also watched the video so often that we had every action memorized, including his repeated fist punch indicating the beginning of the chorus, the swoon worthy arching of his brow, his intense gaze, and the subtle, yet wholly sexy licking of his lips. It got so that no matter what we were doing, when we heard a particular part of the chorus each of us would punch a fist in the air and go about our business. At first it was a joke, but eventually we started doing so unconsiously.

In the past few years I haven't listened to much Sting, but after my amazing experience at The Police concert last month I got out my old Sting and Police cd's and loaded them on my Ipod. "Fortress Around Your Heart" is still my favorite, although "Every Little Thing She Does is Magic" runs a close second.

This morning I took my sister-in-law Emily to the airport in my jammies. I was really tired, and didn't even really pay attention to what music was playing when suddenly my fist flew up, punching the air on its own accord. I quickly focused on the music to find "Fortress Around Your Heart" playing on my Ipod.

Some things just stay with you.

I love this woman...

and this one for introducing her to me.