It's 8:03 am and I'm waiting to board a flight to Oklahoma. Going to see my parents. My mom, really, for Mother's Day. Seth's Dad is coming to New York for their annual father/son hang-out thingy, so basically, they kicked me out. Perfect timing for being kicked out seeing how it's mother's day and all.

I don't understand why people, who are clearly surrounded by other quiet, obviously very sleepy, people, feel the need to speak so frickin loud. Honestly. Look around man. NO ONE else is speaking as loud as you are. Ssshhhhhh

I have a little secret to share with you all. Remember how we were always taught in Sunday school that flying is "the perfect time to witness!". We should all find out if the stranger next to us is saved because it's perfect! They're trapped! They can't go anywhere! Here's my little secret. I don't do that.. When I sit next to a stranger I like to be left alone. Very very alone. So alone that I bury my head in a book from the moment I sit down. I'm really hoping that loud man isn't sitting next to me. I KNOW he's the kind that nervously and LOUDLY asks you questions even if you're head's buried in a book. Ok. Gotta go. Boarding. Layover in Chicago.

10:48 AM:

In Chicago, home of the two famous O's. I didn't realize when I booked my flight that this second plane here was one of those little ones. Dang it. Not a fan. I didn't have to sit by the loud mouth. Instead I was smack dab in the middle of two babies, one directly in front and one directly behind, and one, if not both, had a poopy diaper. Lovely. I've cheered myself with a bag of Chex Mix and am waiting to board the rinky dink. Wish me well.

Why We Need A Savior

I'm in an elevator. Enter a 6-yr-old and his mother.

6-YR-OLD: (to his mother) "Buy a dog! Buy a dog! BUY A DOG! I can have whatever I want! YES I CAN!! WhatEVER I want for my 7th birthday. I can have whatever I want and I don't need to ask Abba if I can have it. Because I can have WHATEVER I WANT!"

And why I think that child should get duct tape for his 7th birthday.

Umbrella Walking

It snowed yesterday. Quite a bit. All day long. I don't know how many inches, but it was a lot. This is me out in the snow.


Note two things in the picture above. 1) The UGGS. 2) The Umbrella. The UGGS turned up useless by the end of the day because surprisingly and unfortunately, UGGS are not waterproof. My socks spent the latter half of the day drying over the heater in our living room. The Umbrella however (yes, with a capital "U,") was my hero.

Umbrella walking in New York City is not an easy task. It is not a task like crossing the street, which becomes more instinctual with time. Umbrella walking simply sucks. Each time. Every time. It is not fun. It is painful. And it is unfair. All this because people don't give a rat's boohiney about how their umbrellas invade your space, or poke your eye out, or scrape your head, or catch and pull your hair. It's each man for himself. Stay dry no matter the cost.

I have often wondered, why am I the one who always moves my umbrella out of the way for YOU. Why am I always the one who sees the man or woman about to pass me and lifts my umbrella higher than the oncoming traveler's so that the two umbrellas do not interlock and mangle themselves to pieces. Why do I have to get extra wet because I'm avoiding a gazillion little pokey things that could have a detrimental effect on my face.

And fancied friends, I have come up with a solution to my quandary, and the answer lies in that picture you see at the beginning of this post.

See how that Umbrella is very LARGE?

Hmmmm? See it?

That's the solution! That's the answer! You see, before yesterday I was walking around with a rinky dink umbrella that flipped inside out with every gust of wind. It was a mere child's thing! Useless. Weak. UNmenacing. Shrinking back from every bully umbrella that came its way. A disgrace to the umbrella race it was. A disgrace to the umbrella race.

But NOW. I've upgraded. Yesterday I was walking along and all of the sudden a man next to me said, "Woah!" and had to do a Neo (you know, like one of those slow motioned back bends) to avoid my Umbrella. As I walked the block I noticed those around me swerve and duck and dive and maneuver, while I peacefully walked along on the ever so beautiful white winter day.

I returned home with wet feet and both eyes.

My Umbrella. My hero.

A Trip to Origins

Last weekend, Mom and I went to Origins to buy some make-up. I needed some new foundation and mascara. (LOVE their foundation and exfoliating creme, and certain other essentials) So I ask the lady about it, she pulls up my info on the computer, and goes to work finding product for me.

But on this certain day, she's not interested in only finding the product I want, she's interested in selling me MORE.

I've worked retail before. I know how to sell. I've also been putting on make-up for half of my life. I know what I want, and if I don't then I'll ask you, and THEN you can sell me something.

She tells me she thinks I should go a shade darker with my foundation. I say, hmmm...ok let's try it.

LADY: How do you apply your foundation?

ME: (I act like I don't care about applying foundation because I can tell she's smelled meat and is after the kill) (shrug) Oh I just use a make-up sponge. I don't even wear foundation every day. (which is true)

LADY: Well! You should really use a Q-tip to first dab it to your face and then a foundation brush to even it out. Your foundation will last you longer that way. The make-up sponge soaks up too much foundation.

ME: Oh yeah, well I use a brush for my heavier foundation for the stage, but I just don't wear this Origins foundation enough to really care....

LADY: Well! Our brush that I'm using here is nicely-

ME: I have a brush.

LADY: Oh! You have one! Oh ok.

So she applies the darker foundation, which I liked, and then moves onto the mascara.

LADY: Now. You use the "Fringe Benefits" mascara? Because I'll tell ya, I'll really like the "Stay All Day" mascara. The "Fringe Benefits" is really a very light texture and-

ME: Yes that's actually why I like the "Fringe Benefits." My eyelashes are on the longer side and they have a tendency to stick together or go crazy if the mascara's too heavy.

LADY: Oh! Well have you tried our "Underwear for Lashes?" It really works well with the "Fringe Benefits" mascara.

ME: Yeah, I have and it makes my eyelashes stick together.

LADY: Would you like to try it again?

ME: (Big sigh) Sure.

I apply one eye with the "Underwear for Lashes" and one eye without.

ME: I can't really see a difference.

LADY: Hm. well. hm. no. i guess not.

ME: OK.

LADY: Now. Do you have break-outs?

ME: Uh. No not really. I mean sure a little. Every now and then.

LADY: Like at that time of the month?

ME: ......

LADY: What do you wash your face with?

ME: I use Proactive.

LADY: Hm. Because I'm thinking. You have nice skin. You may not need Proactive.

ME: Well maybe I have nice skin because I use Proactive.

LADY: .....

LADY: Oh. Because I was going to mention: We have a new line of organic skin care you might be interested in.

ME: Nope. NOOOOPE. No thanks! NO! NO! NO! NOOOOOOOO!

I wish. That last line was the "me" screaming inside of me.

Leave me alone, Origins. Leave me be. I'm happy. I'm content.

I don't need you.

So....uh...anyone tried that new organic line at Origins?

Confession: Walk Rage

As of today, I am a true New Yorker.

A while back I wrote about the different ways of crossing the street in New York City.
Today, I followed #7 in the rule book: Walk Rage.


As I crossed the street WITH THE RIGHT-OF-WAY (oh yes, I had the white walking man), a big white van took a right turn, right into me. Now when this happens, because believe it or not, it happens a lot, what ensues resembles a game of "Chicken." Who will give first? The walker has the right-of-way, but the driver , because he's turning right on a green light, doesn't want to wait on the walker, and consequently "fakes" driving right into the walker, attempting to scare the walker into stopping and letting the car pass, EVEN THOUGH THE WALKER HAS THE RIGHT-OF-WAY.

Now, see, when a driver does this to ME, I ALWAYS win. Because I take #7 in my cross walk rule book seriously. If I have the right-of-way, then I have the right-of-way. That's all there is to it, and they can wait. You might be thinking, hmmm...that's a bit severe considering she could get run over. But the thing is, if you keep walking, the driver has no choice but to stop, because surely they won't run you over.

Today, the white van almost ran me over. We played our little game of Chicken, and he didn't stop, and NOT ONLY did he not stop, he and his Hispanic friend in the passenger seat laughed at me and waved. This I clearly saw, since their windshield was a foot away from my face.

I stopped. I raised my hands in the air. I...(oh c'mon now, don't judge me)...cursed. And as I lowered my hands and the white van passed me, just inches away from my toes, a series of thoughts went through my head in a split second.

That *&#$^ almost killed me.

I had the right-of-way.

How dare they laugh.

And....

instead of bringing my right arm down to my side as I did my left, my right arm suddenly acquired a will of its own. And....

I hit that van.

Really hard, with my right hand.

Right on its fat white side.

And man, did that feel good.

While Running with Imogen

Yesterday, with my new running shoes on, Imogen Heap blaring through my Ipod, I headed downstairs to walk-slash-run the park. ('Walk" being the operative word.) On the way down the stairs, I ran into the older man who lives right below us. We greeted each other. I removed one ear bud just in case he was in a talkative mood. He was.

He commented on what a nice day it was. He had just finished the 5 mile trail. Oh yeah? I said. I'm just about to do that myself. With an expression that denoted pain and exhaustion, he said something in return that ended with what sounded like the words: "at the end there." I chuckled, because at the very time of his response, Imogen kicked it up a notch in my left ear, and I had no idea what he said or what to say back to him. So I chuckled.

He says, No I'm serious! I laugh even louder as I head down the stairs. Good to see you! I say. Yeah, he says grumpily. As I stepped out of my building I realized he might possibly have said something like, "I fell to the ground and the ambulance came and they had to revive me at the end there." Or...."I collapsed from heat exhaustion at the end there." Or...."I accidentally ran into a cyclist and broke his neck at the end there." Or...."You know I live below you and you're a really loud walker and I wish you'd walk more quietly up there." It occurred to me that he might consider me a very evil person now.

It was a crowded day at the park. Not only were the meadows jammed with picnic-ers, the trail was jammed with runners and walkers and cyclists. Occasionally, I had to use quick thinking logic to maneuver through and avoid injury. At one point on the trail, a point where I was running down hill and uncontrollably gaining speed, I came upon two very slow walkers, strolling along on that beautiful afternoon. I couldn't run around them to the right due to the two cyclists approaching me from behind on my right. I edged toward the left curb to pass the dawdlers, and as I approached, at the very last minute, the couple (the girl being closest to the left curb) dawdled to the left, blocking my way. I had no choice. I had to do it.

"On your left." is what I meant to say, loud enough but calmly enough. Due to the downhill-ness and Imogen Heap blaring in my ears, and the fact that I'm in awful shape, what came out was,

"ON YOUR LEFT!!!"

The girl jumped a mile in the air, quickly stepped to the right, stopped, and then cringed her shoulders to her ears, waiting to be trampled flat.

I didn't run her over.

And later, the WALK-slash-run in me satisfied, I waited at the crosswalk to head home. A taxi pulled up, out of which a forty-something man in a suit appeared carrying two duffle bags. Imogen was finished blaring in my ears. This time I heard plainly.

"Wow, it's a gorgeous day!" he said, to my surprise, addressing me.

I attempted a polite chuckle to acknowledge the pretty day. (Apparently, I chuckle when I don't know what to say.) A cyclist sped toward us. I guess the forty-something man knew the cyclist and addressed him by name.

"George, it's so beautiful here!"

The taxi sped away but the forty-something man in the suit stood and looked at me.

"At my place in Southampton it was raining cats and dogs!"

I gave him a sarcastic smile through pursed lips that said, "You don't impress me. Get over yourself," looked away and crossed the street as fast as I could.

Very eventful day in the park.

Caution: Proactive Provides Damaging Solutions

This is the stuff I use to wash my face. As you can very well see, Jessica Simpson uses it, too. At least she says she does. At least she makes bazookoos of money saying she does. But, I'm wondering...does it bleach Jessica's eyebrows, too?

A curious phenomenom is occurring on my face. The very top of my eyebrows (usually brown, naturally to match my hair) are turning bleach blond. But it's just the top of my eyebrows. So right now my eyebrows are somewhat two-toned.

I first noticed this about two months ago when talking to Seth. As he pretended to listen to me ramble on about whatever, his focus kept shifting from my eyes to my eyebrows. I finally stopped to ask.

"What are you looking at?"

Seth furrowed his own brow, ultimately perplexed. "Your eyebrows are changing colors."

"My eyebrows are changing colors?"

He studied my eyebrows intensely. "Yeah, just the top."

"What?" I reached for the mirror in my bag. "Oh, weird. Yeah, they're changing colors. Maybe's its the way the sun hits them in New York when I have my sunglasses on." (Hey, it was the best I could come up with.)

I resumed telling my story, but not without intermittent pauses as I waited while Seth sat distracted by my eyebrows.

Then, as I talked to my mom on a recent visit to Oklahoma, she stopped me mid-sentence and moved closer to examine my face.

"Amber, did you know your eyebrows are changing colors?" she asked, quite concerned. Then she laughed.

"OK. This is ridiculous. Yes, I know my eyebrows are changing colors. Is it that bad?"

Later my mom called. She had an idea. What if my facewash that I've been using for the past...oh...6 years or so has been accidentally getting into my eyebrows all this time, and now the effects are showing. And sure enough, as I washed my face that night, I saw that my facewash has been dripping into the top of my eyebrows...for 6 years!

So I'm wondering if Jessica has this problem, too, and what she's doing to remedy it. I don't want to change my facewash. I like it. It works. But I can't go walking around with two-toned eyebrows. Jessica, you're the only one who can help. Save me. What do I do?

Backwards

Pope: Other Christians Not True Churches
By NICOLE WINFIELD, Associated Press Writer

"Pope Benedict XVI has reasserted the universal primacy of the Roman Catholic Church, approving a document released Tuesday that says Orthodox churches were defective and that other Christian denominations were not true churches.

Benedict approved a document from his old offices at the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith that restates church teaching on relations with other Christians. It was the second time in a week the pope has corrected what he says are erroneous interpretations of the Second Vatican Council, the 1962-65 meetings that modernized the church.

On Saturday, Benedict revisited another key aspect of Vatican II by reviving the old Latin Mass. Traditional Catholics cheered the move, but more liberal ones called it a step back from Vatican II.

Benedict, who attended Vatican II as a young theologian, has long complained about what he considers the erroneous interpretation of the council by liberals, saying it was not a break from the past but rather a renewal of church tradition.

In the latest document — formulated as five questions and answers — the Vatican seeks to set the record straight on Vatican II's ecumenical intent, saying some contemporary theological interpretation had been "erroneous or ambiguous" and had prompted confusion and doubt.

It restates key sections of a 2000 document the pope wrote when he was prefect of the congregation, "Dominus Iesus," which set off a firestorm of criticism among Protestant and other Christian denominations because it said they were not true churches but merely ecclesial communities and therefore did not have the "means of salvation."

In the new document and an accompanying commentary, which were released as the pope vacations here in Italy's Dolomite mountains, the Vatican repeated that position.

"Christ 'established here on earth' only one church," the document said. The other communities "cannot be called 'churches' in the proper sense" because they do not have apostolic succession — the ability to trace their bishops back to Christ's original apostles...."

Go here to read the complete article

Excuse me for being so blunt, but

What the hell?

..."Therefore did not have the 'means of salvation.' Because we don't claim apostolic succession? Last time I checked, Christ said He loved the whole world and whoever believes in Him should have eternal life. Not whoever believes the Pope succeeds directly from Peter and that Rome holds authority over all believers.

I'm mad. I'm mad because here I am reading about Catholics, finding the faith beautiful and meaningful, attempting to understand what I don't believe, and all in the name of Christ. And now...I have no means to salvation? That makes me want to stop. That makes me want to put all my books away and quit.

So is that document considered ex cathedra? I know there are liberal Catholics who believe otherwise. Are all Catholics now required to believe what that document says? I haven't read the entire document. I should read it. I don't know where to find it, but I should read it.

Vatican II was a positive step, in my opinion, and this is backwards. I don't understand this. I apologize for the ranting and raving but.... One of the things I admired about the Catholic faith was the interpretation by the Magisterium. I feel that we as Protestants think we can interpret Scripture any way we see fit, and if it's different, we just start another church, and it's all good. I appreciate the standards of authority put in place by the Catholic church. But I can't respect this. I have a really hard time respecting this. I just don't understand.

Maybe I'm misunderstanding something here, like I've misunderstood Catholics in the past. I guess I'll try to find that document....Any clarification on this would help...

Tunesday: Eva Cassidy...Different Song than Before

Ohmygosh. This is so irritating. I can't get the thing to embed. Trying something new that didn't work. I wanted to show you one song, but I can't.

For all of you who've already been here and listened, I'm sorry. I'm changing the tune again. The link below wasn't working for me. Nothing's working! I'm irritated.

Anyway, here is Eva Cassidy's "Over the Rainbow." No one sings it like Judy Garland, but Eva's a close second. I'm sure most of you have heard of Eva, but if not...she was relativily unknown outside of her hometown of Washington D.C. when she died of melanoma in 1996. Since then her records have sold more than 4 million copies. She's one of my favorite singers.

This version was played at our wedding - voice and classical guitar. Beautiful. The tune was also a part of Seth's proposal, but I'll share that later...someday...maybe.

DISCLAIMER: This track contains awful synthesized sounds toward the middle of the track. PLEASE IGNORE.

Song: Over the Rainbow
Artist: Eva Cassidy
Album: Songbird

Listen here. For real this time.

Can't Sleep

Can't sleep. Can't sleep. Can't sleep. Can't sleep. Can't sleep. Can't sleep. Can't sleep. Can't sleep. Can't sleep. Can't sleep. Can't sleep. Can't sleep. Can't sleep. Can't sleep. Can't sleep. Can't sleep. Can't sleep. Can't sleep. Can't sleep. Can't sleep.

Can't sleep.

I'm trying a new cure for insomnia. Type the same words over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over

I think it might be working. I'm getting sort of tired sort of tired sort of tired sort of tired sort of tired sort of tired

It's an alternative to counting sheep. one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen

Except that I'm sitting up at the computer so I won't be able to just fall asleep.

Sleep is a funny thing. I mean, isn't it weird that we just have to shut down for hours at a time. That we're still alive but our whole body is unconscious. Shut down to such a degree that I don't even hear things or remember things, except for dreams of course. And those are weird too. That my whole being is barely conscious but my subconcious is creating something in my mind. Crazy. What if right now I were sleep-typing instead of sleep walking or something? No, I'm not. I promise. Just can't sleep.

I've been having insomnia for about a week now. I hate it. At least I usually get to sleep pretty late in the morning. Which always makes me feel like a lazy ass, but I've reconciled that by now. I'm a musician and that's just how it goes. Musicians get sleep late passes. It's just how it goes. Has anyone ever heard that Ben Folds song, "Not Tired." That is one rad song. He played it at the John Floofyhair concert, but I also heard him play it with the Houston symphony and that was friggin amazing.

OK, so I'm gonna try to go to sleep again. G'night.

Ben and His Pants

Seth and I went to the Ben Folds/ John Mayer concert last night. I have since made a deal with myself. I will never again see Ben Folds in concert unless he is headlining AND I have premium seats. I am too big of a fan to be seated miles away on the wet, muddy grass with cigar smoke being blown in my face and into my hair, around people who couldn't give a rat's boohiney about Ben Folds. Nope. Not doing it again. Just wait for the right time and spend the big bucks, I have since said to myself. It's better than watching Ben leave the stage to be followed by Mr. I Love My Guitar Almost As Much As Myself So Sit And Watch Me Play This Solo....Over and Over...In Every Song. And wonder why everyone around me cares so much.

So that's really how I feel about it. It was like this.

Ben Folds

John Mayer

Which, yeah I should have expected but didn't for some reason.

But hey, Ben climbed up and stood on top of the piano. And then dropped his pants. So that was fun. Don't worry, he had boxers on, really long ones. And don't worry, I was too far away to see anything anyway. And don't worry, I wouldn't have wanted to see anything even if I could, and had I been closer I would have shut my eyes and screamed, "Ben, you sinner!" So thank goodness we were so far away, huh?

OK, so I wouldn't have said Ben, you sinner, but I would have definitely closed my eyes and screamed. But seeing as we were miles away I just stood there and laughed with Seth and said, "Oh my gosh! Seth, he's unbuttoning his pants!"

On Sleeping and Waking Up

The other night, Seth was out of town, and I had a nasty cough that made my chest feel like a thousand knives were scraping the insides of my lungs every time I inhaled. So I took a couple of Mucinex DM's, and settled into my cozy bed with a book. The bedside lamp cast its soothing light as I read with head and shoulders propped up by my double-pillowed rig I use for such late night reading occasions.

I was doing just fine.

And then, all of the sudden, my room was lit up by the morning light pouring in through my windows. Glancing over at my alarm...7 AM...I noticed my lamp was still on. Huh? Why didn't I turn my lamp off before going to bed? And then I became aware that my head was propped up in old-woman-sleeping-poistion. It didn't register until I noticed my fallen book on the floor.

Watch out for that Mucinex DM. It'll knock you out.

*********************************************************************************

This morning I woke up and groggily made my way into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. It's important that coffee be the first thing of which I partake when I arise.

A minor problem.

The water that came from the tap as I filled the Brita filtering thingy was yellow. Pale, nasty yellow.

I don't know about you, but I LOVE yellow water. I LOVE that I couldn't brush my teeth this morning without wondering how many germs and how much dirt was entering my body. I think it's so great that, in order to take a shower today, I have to be OK with pale nasty water being my cleansing medium. I am so glad that my coffee was postponed as I let the water run, thinking the yellow tint would just go away, when in fact it did not.

Thank you, Houston TX, for such a wonderful morning surprise. How delightful.

Dreambores

That is what I am renaming this movie. Dreambores.

I am sadly dissappointed, folks. I seriously thought I would be more impressed. The only award that the academy should have offered this movie was Best Costume Design, or whatever the academy likes to call it. Those girls' costumes were freaking amazing. Wow.

But I am very sorry to say... that this musical was boring. Of the 15 million cazillion songs, I fast forwarded through half of them, because the songs were so dadgum long. And c'mon. If you're going to tell the story of the Supremes and James Brown, and especially if you're going to throw in Jackson 5 look-a-likes, then at least use the real songs! Not some fake crap that sounds like the white man writing it is trying too hard. I know, I know. They probably either couldn't get the rights or it was too expensive or WHATEVER, but seriously. Jersey Boys is doing it on Broadway right now, aren't they? Real songs, real names, all that good stuff? Sherry Baby? Big Girls Don't Cry? Frankie Valli and The Four Seasons?

Yes, Jennifer Hudson was good. She can out sing anyone, and yeah, she knows how to sell a song. But beating out Cate Blanchett for Best Supporting Actress? No. Jennifer sold the same song wrapped in different packages 5 different times. She's mad and she deserves better. We get it. We got it the first time.

Beyonce was actually alot better than I expected. I've seen her in other movies and always thought it was a joke. But I actually liked what she did here, and in some ways, I thought it had more depth than Jennifer's character. And she's just so strikingly beautiful. All those different hair styles and make overs. Very cool.

Now I will say that I think it is extremely hard to make a musical work on film. Musicals are made for the stage. It's almost impossible to make a good movie musical. I think some have pulled it off in the past. Sound of Music, My Fair Lady, and Chicago come to mind. But they all throw you off guard because they have that bust-out-in-song-instead-of-the-spoken-dialogue-you-expected element. It works on stage because...well it's the stage! You've got a freaking orchestra in between the audience and the actors! It just works. But it's hard to do in film. So with that in mind it was well made. It was a good looking film. Lots of glitter. Cool sets.

But unfortunately...boring.

Spearmint?

I should drink more water. It's the best thing for you. Good for your skin, good for weight control, good for your overall health, and good for my sadly dehydrated vocal chords from 2 cups of coffee every morning.

But here's my problem. I think drinking water is boring. It doesn't taste very good, just plain. So I thought I'd branch out and try some of that flavored spring water I've been seeing at Target.

Of all the bottled water for sale on the shelf at Target, of all the Ozarka, Dasani, and Evian. Of all the different flavors, watermelon kiwi, mixed berry, grape.....why in the h### did I choose "Unsweetened Spearmint"?

Unsweetened Spearmint?

What was I thinking?

This stuff is disgusting.

Why did I think that water that tastes like minty gum would taste refreshing? Dumb dumb dumb.

I am so mad that I spent 3 bucks on four plastic spearment flavored spring water bottles that are bound together with such tough plastic material that it takes 5 minutes with the scissors to loose just one.

I am so annoyed at myself for not being able to enjoy my water. Just stick with Ozarka, people. Good ole' natural flavored spring water.