Touring is like childbirth

For those of you not familiar with my former lifestyle, I married a man-who at 19-had a band that was signed and touring.

He met me at the ripe old age of 22, threw me over his shoulder and we kept going.

For the first 5 or so years of our marriage, we criss-crossed the U.S., while he bounced around the stage playing bass guitar and singing, I watched from the side-so proud of my husband.

Touring with his band quickly morphed into driving our friend’s tour buses during our downtime, which then morphed into a career for the both of us.
We were able to spend every waking minute with each other and make decent money-only working 4 months out of the year.

And, we got to stay in really cool hotels-for free.

I mean, really cool hotels-like ones with complimentary white robes and house shoes, Starbucks in the lobby and manager’s receptions.

And hotels where Frank Sinatra, Audrey Hepburn and Carey Grant used to stay.

We saw more of the U.S. than I ever thought possible in one lifetime, let alone a couple of years.

Often, in just a few days’ time, we would go from laid back towns with southern sandy beaches…

…to fall weather and the craziness of New York.

We were invited to a real Louisiana crab boil, complete with Zydeco music.

And we ate at historic restaurants with tortillas the size of a spare tire. (Which subsequently, gives you a spare tire.)

We’ve been fortunate enough to experience things in a weekend-all paid for-that most people save up years to do.

And I got to do this all with my best friend at my side.

However, for all of the perks, a touring lifestyle can be unpredictable.

Would the bus break down today, and if so, how much money will we loose?
Can we make it through this traffic/construction/snowstorm and get to the show on time?
Will the other bands on tour like us?
Will we get to eat today, and if so, is it pizza again?
Am I going to get to sleep in a bed tonight/this afternoon?
Will I drive Biceps crazy singing, “Baby went to Amsterdam, She put a little money into travelin’, now it’s so slow, so slow…” too many times when traffic slows down?
Will we crash and die?
Am I going to encounter any other normal human besides Biceps today? (Probably not.)

But, now that we’re away from touring and into a normal routine of life-getting up at the same time, packing Bicep’s lunches, ironing his “Blues”, being at church every Sunday, cooking dinner every night-I miss the unpredictability of the touring lifestyle.

I miss the sunrises every morning, making breakfast sandwiches on the bus, and having someone else wash my towels and my sheets.

I miss the whirring sound of the bus generator, the early morning coffee time and seeing towns empty out after a huge show.

But, then I think about the slumber party stomach from lack of sleep, blinding snowstorms that scare the crap out of me as I’m driving through New York, and the loneliness of having a flipped schedule from other “day dwellers”.

It’s so easy to forget all the bad stuff, the painful stuff-only bringing to mind all the good stuff. I think touring is a bit like childbirth for me.

Happy New Year! Party hard-I guess?

We’ve never really celebrated New Year’s-at least, not like they do on tv. I have always romanticized what it would be like to be in Times Square watching the ball drop, bundled up in a very stylish white winter coat, with my one and only.

However, to spend that amount of money to get to some place I’ve been a zillion times before on tour, to be around that many people I don’t know (or trust), knowing it will be freezing cold…

…my pj’s, bed and fireplace sound pretty good. My New Year’s memories may not compare to a New York one, but they’re mine and they’re of course-weird.

One of my favorite New Year’s memory was the night the phone book burned. Why do phone book companies insist on not only forcing me to take their phone books-but also leave a total of 4 books on my two front porches? I had had enough of the phone company’s shenanigans.

So, a few years ago, my little brother, his wife, my dad, Biceps and I loaded up into their tiny white car and drove to a vacant lot. We sacrificed one phone book by lighting it on fire. We then drove in circles around the phone book as we watched it burn, screaming and hanging out the windows until the fire was out.

Beat that Times Square.

And many years ago, after spending hours putting on the tire chains, my sweet father loaded us kids up in the wagon-just so we could drive into town to attend a church friend’s party. It took us at least an hour to go a couple of miles, but we sang songs the whole way and still made it in time to eat way too much candy and be sick and miserable the next day.

I call this the year of the “Candy Hangover”.

And last but not least, Bicep’s band was hired to play a New Year’s show one year while we were out on tour. It was for a lock-in at a large church-complete with awkward teenage flirting, pizza and nerf guns. They paid us well, so we couldn’t turn it down.

But as the world wore sequined dresses, tuxedos and drank champagne-I was watching my hubby on stage, as he entertained screaming pubescent fans. I enjoyed my orange Fanta from a red plastic cup off to the side, knowing cold pizza awaited me for dinner.

And I loved it.

So, while the rest of the world is getting krunk and doing things tonight they’ll regret tomorrow…Biceps and I will attend a small party and then come home to our two kitties, our fireplace and our pj’s.

Call me lame, but this is how I party hard. And, I don’t wake up the next day with a hangover or regrets. Unless it’s a “candy hangover”…and then yes, I am guilty of such actions.

Normal Reasons to be Thankful

I talked earlier this week about the Weird Reasons to be Thankful.
Now, I would like to share with you some normal reasons to be Thankful, since it is Thanksgiving day and my mother would appreciate it if I was more normal for once.

First and foremost, I am thankful for this hot little number-Biceps. Need I say more on that subject?

 

Secondly, I am thankful for my big crazy family. Every one of ’em. (I have another brother that should have been in this shot, but he ran off before I pulled out the camera. He hates to have his picture taken, apparently…)

 

I am thankful that I live here. Well, not here on Ellis Island-but here in America. I love my country.

 

I am thankful that I got to hang out with this guy for 8 years before he was called home to be with the Lord.

 

I am so thankful for these.

 

And for these two little troublemakers. And even though the number 7 on my keyboard is missing and I believe they have something to do with this, I am still thankful for them….

Happy Thanksgiving! What are you thankful for?

Ancient Fire Station in New York

Biceps and I have been keeping a secret from all of you, dear readers.
We want to start a family. Let’s be honest-I’m gettin’ old.
But in order to do that, we knew we had to make some radical changes. Biceps went back to school, got his EMT certification and is on the path to become one of Oklahoma’s finest Firemen.
Mustache and all.

He is volunteering at a local station in Oklahoma while we’re home. But financially-it’s just that-a volunteer position. While we are pursuing this career switch and waiting on a paid position, we are still touring around with stinky bands. Due to all of this, our little eyes have become more keen on fire stations around the country.

 

This fire station (built in 1895) is one of the oldest and hottest fire stations in New York. Tee hee.

 

It’s been converted into a venue-which is why we were here with the band.

 

Our fire stations back home are mostly made out of the same thing that our churches, cattle yards and strip malls are built out of-gigantic metal buildings with absolutely no character.

 

Nothing like this.
Bicep’s mustache grew an extra centimeter just laying his eyes on this here station. And my heart skips a beat thinking about the possibility of our life being somewhat “normal” and pro-creating. So, my dear readers-there you have it: our big secret. I know you’ve all been wondering about us and why we’ve waited for so long. Wonder no more…