The Dam Tour

I will stop my juvenile humor with the title. Biceps and I had a day off in Las Vegas during a long tour.
We got a wild hair and did something we never did. We skipped our work out and spent money unnecessarily.
After renting a fancy blue Mustang, we packed a lunch, put the top down and headed out into the desert.

For miles, we gazed upon the beautiful desert landscape interrupted by the turquoise water of the Las Vegas Bay.

We took the scenic route down Lakeshore Road, cranking up the tunes and basically being that dorky couple you giggle at when you drive by.

There is a precious scene in the movie ‘Fools Rush In’ (don’t judge) that centers around the Hoover Dam.
The leading character, Alex, is standing in the rain, professing his love to the woman he is supposed to be with, Isabel, and it just melts your heart.
Poor Biceps heard this more than once as we approached our destination and was grateful once we had arrived.

I think it’s the second tower from the left that this particular scene happens.
If you haven’t seen the movie, I suggest you watch it with your girlfriends while eating chocolate and drinking red wine. Or bribe your husband by acquiescing to watching ‘Rambo, First Blood’ the next go around.

This is my view as I stand close to the above mentioned spot. My picnic lunch was reminding me that I do not favor heights.

I focused on the turquoise water, rather than the 700 foot possible drop, and my barfing reflex began to subside.
After walking around, on and anywhere we were allowed to go that was the Hoover Dam; we hopped back in the ‘Stang to enjoy more desert scenery and more sweet tunes on our way back to our Vegas hotel.

But, not before seeing this.
It was shameful. But funny. Naughty. But hilarious.
I was very torn about what to feel. So, I laughed and wondered what I would look like on a giant billboard with a drawn on mustache. It would not be a pretty sight, let me tell you.
It might look something like…

…this. And that is the disturbing image that I will leave you with today.

Give me the Gelato and I promise I’ll be good.

While on assignment, (I have always wanted to say that), I discovered a tasty little treat in downtown Tulsa.
Mod’s Coffee and Crepes has everything your little sweet tooth desires. Let me just repeat the name: Coffee and Crepes. But then add to that list: Gelato, Salads and Soups. Anything that you could ever want is right there for the taking.
I am not getting paid by Mod’s, nor do I get any gelato kick-backs for this. I just wanted to share with all of you something that I found pretty dang cool. Pun totally intended.

The staff at Mod’s is unprecedentedly nice. I mean it-they are just darn good people. The niceness of employees at any establishment is becoming more and more important to me as I get old and cantankerous.

Mod’s is situated in the historic Philtower Building on Boston Street in downtown Tulsa.
The building is a gorgeous masterpiece from the oil boom era.

As I sipped my delicious latte, I gazed upon the marbled walls and the gold-encrusted ceiling of the Philtower. I pictured the hatted ladies and the suit-clad men that had hurried through these halls long ago; smoking cigarettes and reading newspapers.

The faint scent of a cooking crepe brought me back to reality, reminding me of the fact that I was wearing cowboy boots-not a fancy dress with pearls.

And obviously, the gelato is outrageously good. I only had a teensy bite and my stomach craved more…much more. Biceps and I just might have to make this a date night spot. If you are in the downtown Tulsa area, stop by Mod’s Coffee and Crepes.
You won’t be sorry.

From Midwest to Southwest…and back again

After the guys played a Music Festival late Saturday night, Biceps and I hopped into a tour bus and drove away…never to be heard from again. Unless you happen to read this blog or have contacted me by email, phone, text, facebook or twitter.
But other than that, almost no contact with the outside world.

This sweet little ride that has many miles under her belt. I have named her ‘Stripey Bus’. It’s pretty catchy, I know. I should probably look into trademarking the name.

Stir crazy after way too many hours on the bus, we vacated our ride to squat on a motel lawn, drinking wine from our red plastic cups.
We are the epitome of class.

But, as with most tours, it’s over before you know it. My only reminders of being away are photographs of the trip and a mountainous pile of mail waiting for me at home.
And a basketful of laundry.
And a wigged out cat.

At this point in the flight, I know it’s just a matter of minutes until I get to see my wigged out cat and feed him treats until his furry belly can take no more.

Things start to look familiar.

Even if they have burned to the ground.

Soon enough, I am here. I am home.
And I am probably making some sort of pizza. It’s become a rather anticipated and tasty tradition, marking the end of tour.

The Peaceful Touring Mornings

My favorite thing of being out on the road with fancy pants musicians are the ‘behind the scenes’ aspects of touring. I could care less (usually) about who’s on stage, who they know, or what they’re into.
Unless it’s kitty cats. Then, we’ll talk.

What I love is inhaling the wash of color across the sky as the sun begins to rise; enjoying a good cup of coffee, a bagel and a walk around the city with Biceps while everyone else is still asleep (hungover).

When an bustling city is at its quietest-around 3 am, I peer from my hotel room window and watch the methodical street cleaners glide down the road, picking up last nights debris. (That’s white spot is the top of our bus and our trailer).

And before the insanity of a sound check administered by a grouchy pony-tailed engineer begins; we hop on our bikes to check out the ghost land that will soon be full of a beer guzzling, hooting and hollering crowd in just a few short hours.

We bike closer to the venue, draw in by the low rumble of the semi-truck’s diesel engines. The calming monotony of the engines as they idle assures us that we are getting closer to the possibility of catering.
Mmmm….food…..

Once our tummy’s are properly full, we bike back to the hotel, ignoring the smell of the generators as the purr away. We have approximately seen 7.25 people throughout the entire morning and we sneak back into our room, without so much as a glance to the busses full of people.
The peacefulness continues until Biceps insists we pull out P90X and ‘get our workout on’. I groan and try to hide underneath the covers…but he always finds me.
The peacefulness was good while it lasted.