Pruning and Growth-Ouch.

Dear Readers:
Have you ever had everything pruned from your life all at the same time and totally out of the blue, causing you to wonder, “What the heck just happened?!”.
(If so, I would love to hear about it. I think it’s encouraging sometimes to know that you are not alone in the stage of life you are in.)
However, one thing that I have learned-just like in the world of gardening-pruning creates growth.
And, I want to grow.
But sometimes, I don’t enjoy the growing pains. There’s a reason they’re called “pains“.

The first major change in my life this year was losing this guy-Cowboy.

It may be just a cat to the rest of the world, but he was my buddy for eight years. Cowboy rode on my shoulder as I: did the dishes, folded laundry or talked on the phone. He looked for me and would make ewok sounds if he couldn’t find me. He slept on top of me most nights and lept into my lap as soon as I allowed. He passed away too early.
I really didn’t think I could miss an animal this much, but I do.

 

This is not our old church-it’s some Catholic church somewhere..
After attending our church for the last ten years, Biceps and I knew it was time to leave. That meant, the end to him drumming every Sunday morning, the end to us teaching the youth, the end to mowing the lawn and caring for the church’s general overall cuteness factor.
And it also meant the end to our relationships with our pastors and many of our friends.
It was weird to quietly fade into the night. We are presently living in the “Bible belt” so finding another church isn’t a problem. We just want to be at the right one. There are a lot of weird ones out there.

 

Biceps has pretty much quit doing this (kicking butt on stage) for over fifteen years. I have been to thousands of his shows, toured for years with him and his bands, sold merch, drove the bus, did the accounting, wrote the thank-you notes and ate the crappy food.
This life as the band wife has been wonderful and exhausting.

 

But presently, he has started doing this.
No, not serving chili…being a fireman and serving chili at the Firemen’s Chili Feed.
I know, he looks good doing both things, really.

 

And then lastly-my lovely Iweb site crashed earlier this year-leaving me stranded for months without the ability to blog. I lost contact with almost all my blogging buddies, missed out on fantastic link parties and had to rebuild my readership/friends/followers. (Won’t you be my friend, please?)
The Iweb pruning caused some major growth within me.
And while I watched my friend’s blogs grow and grow, I was forced to sit back and save my pennies, waiting to hire someone to rebuild my site in a better platform. This new site is much better, but I am still dealing with the repercussions of being out of the blogging community for almost 8 months.
Unexpectedly, the world didn’t end without my blog up and running.

With each passing year, I gain the growth from pruning-along with a few gray hairs. But isn’t that why gray hairs are referred to as wisdom?
But each trial, each pruning session, has brought me closer to the fact that I know nothing, and reconfirmed that everything I own could blow up and I’d still be ok.
So, with the pruning there are the “pains“.
But, I suppose what I’m saying is that I can survive the pains.

The Hollywood Elite from the Golden Age

It might be obvious that I love a vintage era. An era with high heels, Grandma’s aprons, canning, making pies from scratch, listening to Getz/Gilberto and movies that were decent enough you could watch with the whole family. An era where men were men and ladies were ladies.

All of that said, dear readers, you would then surmise that the Golden Age of Hollywood would be classified as one of my favorites. The age where ladies wore gloves, men wore ties and when everyone could sing and dance.

Therefore, I was more than excited to once again be in Los Angeles for several days and stay at The Sportsmen’s Lodge on this last tour. (I am not getting kick-backs from this hotel…I wish I did, however…) This lodge used to sit outside of L.A., but urban sprawl has taken over and it’s now within city limits.

 

The Sportsmen’s Lodge is overtly famous for housing the Hollywood Elite-the likes of Audrey Hepburn, Frank Sinatra, and Donna Reed-were said to leave the hustle and bustle of Hollywood to hole up here.

 

According to hotel staff, Carey Grant dipped in this very pool on several occasions. I don’t care if it’s a true story or not…that is what happened.

 

The lobby and lounge were what I like to call, “swanked-out”. Meaning, really swanky.

 

In bygone times, acres of forest surrounded the hotel-allowing seclusion for the stars from their adoring fans. Now, a Starbucks is right across the street, along with a large grocery store.
I ain’t complainin’ about the Starbucks, let me tell you.

I would have loved to see the hotel in its hey-day. I know just what dress I would have worn if I was sharing a lobby with Marilyn or Bing. And, I have matching gloves that never get any action and would go perfectly with my dress.
Let me be honest-the rooms were nothing to speak of-decent, but not a Ritz Carlton by any means.
But, if you ever want to connect with “what was” and you happen to be in the City of Angels, I recommend stopping off at the Sportsmen’s Lodge.
Say “hi” to Carey’s spirit for me.

The Ghost of Biceps

On this day, I thought it fitting to be a little spookier than usual. A little woo-hoo and what not.
One must ask oneself, is what I’m seeing about to see an apparition or perhaps a ghost? Is this the dreaded and feared “Farty Spirit of Biceps”?

Or could this be a simple slideshow built for my pure amusement?

You’ll never know, (insert evil laugh).

Arizona Mornings

Touring has offered me the opportunity to see something I normally don’t when at home-the sun rise. (I know, I’m a lazy butt.) The sun rise brings a frenzy of activity on the bus-mainly by me-the band won’t be up for at least another 6 hours….

On this particular day, somewhere between Arizona and California, our stomachs begin to growl. The toaster comes out. The hot pot begins to boil.

 

It’s time to make breakfast (or really it’s lunch for us)-which is usually an egg sandwich using egg whites, toast, and cheese.

 

Arizona begins to give way to California as we travel a long stretch of I-8. We munch on our little sandwiches, drink some hot tea, and take in the landscape.

 

But in the light of day, we see the stark reality. We are both surrounded by a circle of toasty crumbs from our egg sandwiches. But it was worth it.

I suppose now, it’s time to clean the bus…
Hello, stinky toilet used by 10 men. Here I come.