Proud to be an American and to be in love with Balki

I am reminded of the cost of my freedom when I read the headlines of a young man giving his life for me, for you, for us. I have been all over the world, and I readily say that I am thankful for my country and grateful for where I live.
Touring with Biceps has afforded me the opportunity to see my country’s most valued treasures up close and personal, always grounding what I otherwise might take for granted.

I stood underneath Lady Liberty, our size comparison was that of:
me=flea, she=oak tree. From the bottom of her base to the tip of her torch, she is 305+ feet tall. That’s one huge statue. Those little white things in the bottom of the photo are sea gulls.
Given to us by the French in 1886; Lady Liberty has literally become the face of America.

She has seen many wars, diseases, presidents, terrorist attacks and pop stars.
Lady Liberty is a constant reminder to us Americans, that we are a strong and united country, craving our freedom and our Justin Bieber.

My ancestors, Biceps ancestors and many others held their breath, hoping to see her face as they approached New York and the New World.
I believe it was at this moment, Balki Bartokomous knew he had arrived, ready to find his Cousin Larry.

To every man and woman that has sacrificed their lives, their jobs, and their reputations to maintain my country’s freedom-thank you. Thank you Dad, Uncle Bill, Uncle Kelly, Keith, Jacob and countless others for joining the Armed forces and keeping me safe. And thank you, Balki, for changing the lives of my family every Friday night when you performed your dance of joy or your Bibi Babkas song.

America, Land of the Free and Home of the Brave and Balki.

The many sides of my Musician Hubby

The first time I saw Biceps, I thought there was no way in heaven that he would be the man for me.
As he performed, he dominated the stage and intimidated this little corporate girl to no end with his ‘tough guy’ side.
(You can read more about How I met my Hubby if you are bored one day.)

That’s him far left with his old band, Philmore. His uber serious side.

That’s him now lead singing for his new band. This is his intense side. Almost eight years have passed between this photo and the one above. During this time, I have learned all about the different sides to this man.

Like his banana-costume-wearing side.

His powerful and dare I say it–hot side?

His tender side. He’s loving on a puppy that has probably never felt love before in a barrio in Reynosa, Mexico.

Hello, Handsome Side.

Hello, Sweetheart Side.

Studmuffin Side.

Weirdo Side.

I love each of his different ‘sides’. But I do have a favorite side.
It’s the one that said, ‘I do’ to me almost ten years ago in a little chapel in front of our God, our family and our friends. I am thankful for this ‘side’ the most.

A Tale of a Snow Goose and a Windshield

Bus drivers like to outdo each other with tales of their bus bursting into flames, losing a trailer while going 65 m.p.h., backing into the side of a building, pushing a dumpster through a restaurant, or going under a bridge that was too low for their bus. You know, the usual.
(photo courtesy of Malcolm Schuyl at http://www.wildvisions.co.uk)
I don’t have any of these tales. I am an ultra cautious driver.
In fact, one driver kindly reminded me that the gas pedal could be found on the right side.
However, do you see this cute bird above?

He’s not so cute when he flies straight into your windshield on a lonely stretch of the Canadian highway in the middle of the night.

This happened on the very last night of a very long 5 week tour. I was so ready to go home.
And then the kamikaze bird came into my life and scared the living daylights out of me.

 
I pulled myself together on the side of the road while picking glass out of my hair, eyelashes and house shoes. Yes, I drive in house shoes. Not very rock ‘n roll of me, is it?

Once I had calmed down, I drove several hours with my windshield like this, hoping to get everyone to the airport on time.

I dropped my group off, and instead of going home to Cowboy, my bed and a washing machine that didn’t require quarters, I spent the next several days at a Canadian truck stop with Biceps waiting for my window to be fixed.
And to be honest, we had a blast together decompressing after the long tour; biking throughout the scenic industrial park, walking the gravel path back and forth to the showers at the truck stop, meeting new and interesting people.
I suppose I have the snow goose to thank for this.

(photo courtesy of Malcolm Schuyl at http://www.wildvisions.co.uk)
May he rest in peace.

Falling in love with…Wichita, Kansas

I have a confession to make. I am a recovering Kansas snob.
Growing up in Manhattan (Kansas State) you weren’t supposed to like Lawrence (Kansas University).
You did your shopping on the Plaza in Kansas City. You visited Topeka to see the state capital of Kansas.
But, there was never, ever, ever any reason to visit Wichita. Ever. I didn’t even know anyone from Wichita. It was far away, mysterious and supposedly a ‘dirty cow town’.
But then, you meet people like this, who have the coolest house ever and your heart begins to open.
And you discover a section of Wichita you have never before seen with your own judgmental eyes-Old Town. And you fall in love.

The guys played two nights in a row in Wichita. The second night was at the Wichita Music Crawl in front of this building. The name alone, ‘Museum of World Treasures’ intrigues me.
So mysterious.

I love that both shows have been outdoor shows. There is much less of the body odor/beer stench mixing with cigarettes and Axe cologne.

Side note, if you ever see a man without a pony tail running sound, there’s a scam going on. Ok, back to how much I am in love with Wichita.

Last night, we sat up here on the second story patio, had a great, quirky waitress and a $2 ‘brewed on the spot’ beer. I was in heaven. The stars were aligning for me and Wichita. And then our drummer made a bold statement. He said the fish and chips were the best he’d ever had.

This ‘cow town’ had such a great charm to it. Tons of brick, tons of artsy independent business, tons of live music. Oh, Wichita. Where have you been all my life?