A FaceBook Entry

I need sleep and my sweet Juliet has been teething this week, so when she goes to bed, I jump right in behind her because I know we'll be up a few times.

That being said, I am know I am letting down my fans by not having any blogs this week. 

Don't you enjoy how I assume so many people are reading this and actually care about my entries?

Here's a little "cheat" from FB.

25 Things About Me

1.  I am a morning person.  Nothing like enjoying a hot chocolate as the sun rises and dreaming of what the day holds.  If you called me at 6 a.m. you'd get a much different Tracy than 6 p.m.

2.  I adore old people.  There is nothing sweeter to me than a smiling, wrinkled gentleman with a walker.  I have been known to stop and talk for hours to complete strangers.  I steal their wisdom shamelessly, for they have lived.  I try ridiculously hard to help even the crankiest of old people smile for the day.

3.  I am a Democrat.

4.  I am married to a Republican.

5.  I love Marketing.  Especially for small businesses.  The strategy behind launching and continually increasing revenue and exposure for a product doesn't even feel like work to me.  The secret is....you are positioning the person, not the material item or service. A theme that resonates in so many areas of life.

6.  I don't enjoy being thin.  Sadly,the grass is always greener...this is the year I will tone my body and find some curves!

7.  I pay exhorbent amounts of money to have Chicago style pizza shipped to Dallas on dry ice.  The same can now be said of Las Palapas Breakfast Tacos from San Antonio.

8.  I think I am incredibly funny.  If you want to be my friend, laugh with me, laugh at me....I don't care, let's just smile together.

9.  I wish I could play the piano.

10.  I worry that I am not a good enough friend to those I love.

11.  Not by design, most of my significant relationships in life are with people considerably older than me.

12.  I really can't stop talking.

13.  I ask a lot of questions.  I want to learn  more.  I will challenge you on your opinions.  Don't just share them, be prepared to back them up with experiences from you life that you helped you formulate them.

14.  Scents can transport me back in time.  Smelling Sun Ripened Raspberry Victoria Secret lotion will immediately throw me back to junior year of college.

15.  I have no common sense.  You don't want me to list examples, they are painful.  Let me redeem myself, I am book smart.

16.  I wish I could drink coffee.  It might be the marketer in me, but I long to sit in Starbucks with a latte.  A tall hot chocolate doesn't work, I've tried it.

17.  I can people watch all day long.   Airplane delays are my dream (as long as they haven't put me on the aircraft yet!)

18.  Occasionally, I find a food that tastes so good in my mouth that I demand complete silence at the table so I can fully enjoy it.

19.  Call me naive, but I think my girls have a real opportunity to grow up in a world where people's skin colors and religious beliefs are null and void.

20.  I take the hottest showers.  So much so that I often have to sit down afterwards.

21.  I have secretly been designing my Kentucky Derby hat for years.  2010 is the year of my attendance!

22.  I pray everyday that Jason and I are good examples to our children.  I pray hard.  Gosh, I want so much for them in terms of a life full of compassion, self respect and dignity.

23.   Thinking back to my childhood gives me a happy, peaceful feeling.

24.  I've recently started a blog and discovered I love writing!  Run on sentences and all!

25.  After 5 years, I love Texas, but am not entirely used to it.  The dead animals garnishing furniture and mantels, sweet Bambi being served with a smile at dinner parties and having to ask where the key to the gun case is at every new friend's house is exhausting.

and my favorite.

26.  I love pregnancy pics.  I have a 16 x 20 of myself on canvas.

I can't stop editing this.

27.  I had platinum blond hair in college.

28.  Everytime Jason travels overnight I have a friend call me at 7:30 a.m. to confirm that I did not die in my sleep.  In preparation,  before I go to bed I move water, juice and dry goods to a low shelf in the pantry so that Sophia can reach them and nourish herself in case I died.

If any of my therapist friends want to offer me a complimentary consultation, obviously I will accept.

29.  I am the stiffest dancer you will ever be in the presence of.  My wedding was the first time I was really feeling good about my "skill."  I felt the beat in my arms, legs and even a tiny bit in my hips!  OMG was I loose!  I had never been so loose in my life.....and the range of movement I had found!  Surely Jason was proud as I entered the center of the big circle and moved so freely during my solo.

Weeks later, the wedding video proved otherwise.

My Previously Unrecorded Biggest Regret

In a rare moment this morning our ipod silenced itself from The Sound of Music Soundtrack and Simon and Garfunkel filled the room with the sweet sounds of The Boxer.  Sophia, slightly infatuated with Julie Andrews stopped in the middle of a delicate spin and tried to switch genres.

Tuesday, July 5, 2004

Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel were making a scheduled stop in Austin, Texas on their final world tour.  I was 5 months pregnant with Sophia and vehemently told Jason I would be too fatigued after "working" all day to drive 1 hour to Austin, sing as loud as I could to each song, return home and then go to "work" the next day.  

The office..... somewhere over the rainbow where I could enjoy my morning hot chocolate and breakfast taco in silence, use the facilities in peace as nature intended, have adult conversations and most astonishingly, be rewarded handsomely from a financial perspective for my contributions.  

To recap, seeing a concert, pregnant on a "work" night was just too much. 

December 24, 2007

I am presented with tickets to see Mr. Art Garfunkel LIVE at the Magestic Theatre in San Antonio on January 12, 2008.  The Magestic is a breathtakingly quaint venue of historical significance to the city.  I was 3 months pregnant and by this time had acquired a realistic understanding of the word fatigue and nothing was going to stop me from being in attendance. 

 Now remember,  I am a marketer, so advertising a tour as your "last" tour in 2004 does not throw me into a panic.  I was certain Mr. Paul Simon would be accompanying Art as a surprise specifically for me.

Similar to my anticipation surrounding Sophia's piano lesson, we were so early for the concert that we decided to enjoy a non alcoholic beverage at a corner cafe.  I was astonished at all the elderly people walking past.  I could barely keep up my end of a conversation with Jason because of all the glorious distractions in my peripheral line of site.  Silver haired, smiling, dressed up in nylons and heels and full of wisdom from a life well lived, they crowded into the Majestic.

I suppose it didn't occur to me that Paul and Art had captured the heart of any generation other than my own....until we were seated and began to take it all in.  Most of the patrons, we would guess, were in their late fifties, early sixties with a nice scattering of those gems in their 70's and 80's.   In my opinion, a larger city, such as Chicago or Austin would've had a better than average representation of my age bracket.  

Jason gave a chuckle and quietly speculated the potential partying these folks had done if they were Simon and Garfunkel fans back in the day. 

Unintentionally, he had gotten us 3rd row seats, right of center.  Unnecessarily, but filled with the zest of a loyal fan, Jason was on ticketmaster.com the moment they went up for sale.  We ended up being seated next to a couple about our parents age.  As we scanned the venue, we gave a knowing wave to few couples born in the seventies... acknowledging our shared appreciation of the artist.  It was quite refreshing to be amongst such a diverse group of people all sharing a common interest.  Reminds me of the warm, peaceful feeling I had yesterday watching the cameras capture the sea of people at the Inaguration.  

Mr. Garfunkel emerged.  My first thought was....Oh dear, the drugs have weathered this poor gentleman, while enjoyable I'm sure, the late 1960's have left their mark in history.  He opened with The Boxer and up on our feet we rose.  Of course, my intention was to begin my somewhat stiff dance moves that time has allowed me to embrace, but I was also wanting to peek back around the stage and get a glimpse of Paul before he joined in.

Not surprising to Jason, Paul Simon never took the stage.

Note to self:  If two talented gentleman over the age of 65 announce a final world tour....take it at face value.

  Shocking to us both....NOBODY ELSE STOOD UP.  

 This is not the Sarah Brightman classical concert, this is Art Garfunkel.  We sheepishly took our seats and I, of course, sang the lyrics too loud.

I can't finish this post without giving this sweet man credit.  The concert was phenomenal.  He wisely took a young bride a few years back and has a 2 year old son.  He mentioned that it was bedtime for his baby in New York and proceeded to sing him a lullaby he had written.  He dedicated a tremendous amount of time to vocally praising Paul for being the brains and talent behind Simon and Garfunkel as the song writer.  During his last song, he danced a little too hard and was clearly winded.  

He never did come out for an encore.

As the concert ended, the couple next to us leaned over and said, "Wow, you two weren't even born when Simon and Garfunkel were popular.  I bet you didn't even know a lot of these songs."

Jason respectively responded, "He's my Uncle."

Out With The Old....In With?

It's the next afternoon and I can still somewhat feel the comfortable silence in the house.  Kids down to sleep, husband sent off on an errand.

I settled into my most inviting chair with a snack and hit DVR.   

Unfairly, but that's always the case around here, Jason was immediately and quite vocally accused of stopping my recording of Dirty Sexy Money for yet another nail biting, edge of the seat, riveting episode of the World Series of Poker.  

I am a Poker Widow, but that's for another post.

I accepted my fate for the evening and  made my way through the warm, dimly lit house.  I shut the office doors and logged onto ABC.com.  My second "settling in" for the evening had me in front of the computer.  The last place I wanted to be seeing as Jason was off returning a camcorder of deleted Parrott family moments, such as Sophia's Christmas Recital, Christmas Morning, The Naked Dallas Botanical Gardens in the middle of December and countless commentaries by none other than myself.  After 2 weeks of researching blogs, pestering friends and countless appointments at the Apple store, I accepted that my spunky red JVC was indeed, not compatible with a Mac. 

 It's a tragic loss, I was fond of her.  

I repeatedly clicked "Dirty Sexy Money......." and repeatedly was taken back to ABC's homepage.  I was wasting precious free time and sadly, yes, even I get frustrated sometimes.  I scrutinized the evening lineup for the week and didn't see DSM listed.  It didn't take me long to figure this one out.  

This is not the first time that the American Broadcasting Company has cancelled a show with no apparent regard for its viewers or sponsors.  I silently suffered the loss of Jack and Jill years ago and most recently What About Brian.  They simply take it off the air, with no communication.  I'd like to get my hands on the advertising figures for DSM.  If the new Cover Girl EyeLights Mascara is advertised 3 times that hour, what are the online and in-store sales figures in the following 3 days?  I know my eyes are greener since I started wearing it.

These actors are paid a substantial amount of money to take me out of my reality and gently place me into theirs for a hour.  Similar to Brothers and Sisters, I turn the TV off and sit in awe of the creative writers and the weekly scripts.  It is my sincere hope that the writers are recycled at ABC, they are second to none.

While watching Karen spend her evenings with Simon outfitted in delicate, feminine and sometimes inviting lingerie, I, for a split second firmly believe that this is how all the women in my life spend their evenings.  Dear friends, maybe family members, certainly the neighbors all feeling great about themselves in a flattering ensemble.

For a moment in time, I am temporarily motivated to "slip into something less comfortable."

A commercial usually jets me back to the here and now,  but I still think I'll ring a few close friends in the morning and inquire on their evening attire.

Last time I talked to Kim she had 2 of 3 kids confirmed with strep throat and a Father-in-Law resting comfortably on her sofa.

If the creative writers had done their jobs right.....

shouldn't Kim be in lingerie right now?

Guilty as Charged?

I was enjoying Mr. Martin have his way with the piano this morning during a rendition of "Clocks."  

Anytime I am in the presence of a graced pianist it is not unusual for me to share my life long dream of playing the piano with anyone who will listen.  I begin to list the various reasons why I've always believed I could be accomplished at it and it's about this time that they "tune" me out-no pun intended.  

Have you seen how long and skinny my fingers are?  They could create and reach melodies previously undiscovered!

My thoughts turned to my sweet Sophia who just a month ago told Jason and I that she wanted to take piano lessons.

That morning I was on the Internet researching the best pianist in town for children under 5.  During our conversation I proudly told him that it was not my husband and I pushing lessons and that we had not even suggested it, Sophia had approached us.  

Similar to Christmas morning, I was as excited, if not more, than Sophia to watch her talent take shape.  10:00 could not come fast enough and we found ourselves in the car passing time because the studio wasn't open yet.  Every teacher that walked in while we waited for them to unlock the door was permanently etched in my memory for accurate recording when I would tell her story to Julliard.  The idea of my sweet girl potentially  being gifted in the arts consumed me.

I admire creative people.  I've since realized that I am a Marketer just to expose myself to them.  I cannot make anything,  I cannot sew, I cannot make a flower arrangement, my attempts at scrapbooks are comedic and all of this stems from an incurable lack of patience.  Each New Year finding patience makes the top of my resolution list and each New Year I do find a bit more.  I can strategize the positioning for the sale and long term profits of anyone's product like no other, but I simply cannot physically create items.

Back to the studio and my dreams (I mean Sophia's).

Mr. Martin and his band members showed me the writing on the wall this morning.  

Am I living out my dreams through my precious offspring?

Am I "Guilty As Charged?"

Even the casual observer at the studio would confirm the above allegation.  From the moment we entered the room, I had stars in my eyes.  The 24 year old skilled pianist walked us through his educational and professional training while I paced the small room in anticipation of his demonstration.  I put myself back on track and asked all the questions from my list.  Of course I made a list.  I am often paralyzed by my expectations of perfectionism that again stem from being the first born child.

He played a 5 minute classical piece that had Sophia, Juliet and myself just lost.  All ages and across generations, he filled that small room with such harmony.   His music gave life to a tranquil moment.

I was high.  As high as the evening that Jason and I won the 50/50 raffle at the Bulls Game and my smiling face was displayed on every single TV in the United Center.  And, I looked good that night, dare I compliment myself.

At this point,  he asked Sophia if she would like to sit down and he would show her the keys.  

Sophia confidently responded, "No thank you, I just want to play by myself, I already know how to do it all."

We closed that chapter, packed up and got into the car where she told me that she just wanted to play on the piano and didn't want someone to show her.  

Not surprisingly it also occurred to me that her ballet lessons last year could've been an unconscious attempt to make that dream come to fruition.  Sadly, I had been thinking about this for sometime.  

Each year, at the nutcracker, anyone who will listen to me will hear the plethora of reasons why I could've been a classical ballerina.  Surely my tall, somewhat lanky body would be a perfect fit.  Further fueling the legitimacy of my claim is that every single time I get a massage, the masseuse asks me if I am dancer.

The body that I see as lanky and untoned is momentarily transformed into one of great purpose-- a creative outlet in the arts!  A dancer!        

Please don't gift me with a massage certificate.  I end up spending just as much on the tip after compliments like that.

Perhaps my slender body would look graceful gliding across the ice with thin arms outreached and one long leg raised high.  Perfect symmetry.

Hmmm.....think I'll take Sophia ice skating this weekend.

And Then She Sang

I enjoy January 12th.  

That might be an understatement because there is a skip in my step today (and no, it's not the new Adidas running shoes, that yes have that brand new bounce in them that a runner or not.....puts a smile on your face).  It's one of those calendar days similar to your birthday.  You log onto the computer or turn on your phone and when you see the date pop up, it's just that indescribable butterflies in the stomach feeling.  

Similar to the warmth a sweet old man gave to me so unknowingly that I will carry with me throughout my days.   

I was 8 months pregnant with Sophia and waddling into the grocery store at a snail's pace.  

The oldest, 

wrinkliest, 

grayest, 

knee high wearing socks,

old gentleman

 most likely 87 years old was keeping pace with me, and of course, I only had eyes for him.  If one placed a newborn baby and this particular man in my direct line of sight, I venture to say that he would have my full attention.  Even though I had the obvious authority to park in the "parking for expectant mothers" front spot, we arrived at the entry door at the same time.  He unhunched himself from his walker long enough to make direct eye contact with me and say, "Ladies first, that's what my Mom always taught me."

Remarkable.  And a great message for a budding brand new mother to get.

I told you I always get my messages....no matter what the delivery.

I've been skipping through the day and humming the various timeless hits by Sir Elton John for hours now.   8 years ago tonight my sweet Jason and I were closing down our 3 week vacation to the Hawaiian Islands with an intimate Elton John concert on Oahu.  It was the eve of his loving, somewhat gentle and full of such innocence marriage proposal.

I relish January 12th.

  

I am one who always looks forward and the anticipation of an event for me is almost as sweet as the experience.

This, my husband who just this weekend looked at our naked 30 foot floor to ceiling stone fireplace mantel that I am paralyzed in decorating and suggested that perhaps my 1983 2nd place rolling skating trophy would be appropriate.  

Sure Jason and be reminded on a daily basis of the summer that Laura Blazer's legs grew 1/4 of inch longer than mine and she narrowly passed the finish line ahead of me, securing the victory. 

I let down every single St. George Dragon that afternoon.

What about his 140x160 1992 fraternity composite?  This that denotes the year of his Presidency?

Yes, we are in receipt of such an "heirloom" and how it came to be is best described in another post.

Yes, this my sweet husband, who when we meet a new couple still tells them our love story with an obviously detectable twinkle in his eye.

Not surprisingly,  I enjoy January 12th.

The Wind of Change

p.s.  Ran a little farther then my designated mile last night.  You find me someone who can stop when The Wind of Change by the Scorpions comes on their ipod.

Moving Day

The night I met my sweet Jason at a fine drinking establishment in downtown Chicago, he mentioned that he would someday be moving to corporate headquarters for AT&T so that he could continue to progress in his career.  Corporate headquarters was San Antonio, TX.  Little did I know we'd be closing the door on Chicago just 1 year after we were married.

I suppose it all started with the rattlesnake family that was found while the workers dug a hole for our swimming pool ...or was it the perfectly toned, peppy and beautiful red head neighbor who greeted me as we drove up to our house after 22 hours of driving....reminding me of what I heard so many times before we came---  All Texas woman are stunning---inside and out.

Ahhh.  You like that one Wendy, don't you?  I don't bite the hand that feeds.  I know your iphone reminder is going to beep loud and clear Tuesday morning gently reminding you to head off to Las Palapas, purchase 30 bean and cheese tacos with an appropriate amount of brown salsa to match and then overnight that little piece of heaven to me!

Watch out, Patricia.  You're next.

I see a theme emerging in my blog.  There appears to be an abundance of "package delivery" references.  Perhaps I should more appropriately name my blog---Me and My Daily Dose of The Brown Suited Stranger. 

 I enjoy that.

Back to Texas, a nation of its own.  If it wasn't the rattlesnakes being beaten to death with shovels in neighbor's garages each morning or the scorpions lining my baseboards....then it had to be the neighborhood tarantulas that I grew so fond of.  I could often be found in the long line outside Courtney's garage with my spiders clinging for life in an air tight container.  She houses the state's largest collection of frozen deceased spiders.  Including all venomous breeds.  You can quickly identify which spider is threatening your family  and leave armed with all the information you need to treat a bite and/or reaction.  Even my best friend, Jesse, from HomeTeam Pest Defense couldn't do this and I paid him handsomely each quarter to suit up and inject those carcinogens into my walls that 10 days later left a large number of scorpions clinging to their lives on my baseboards.  Yes, homes in Texas have tubes in the walls so that Jesse can visit and fill them up good with murderer juice.

I don't think I've mentioned that I don't forget a date.

July 26, 2004, I was 4 months pregnant with Sophia and I decided that I better start getting more comfortable here in South Texas.  As shocking as this may sound, I decided to check the mailbox.....barefoot.   I was halfway there when Courtney started screaming, "Tarantula!"  And, in Texas there is no crying wolf.  The human race must protect its own from God's animal creatures.  I froze.  Was anyone going to save me?  Surely I had stepped on it and was going to die a painful and untimely death.  My emotional display amused the neighborhood whose screams for the tarantula were in excitement.  Didn't I know tarantula's aren't poisonous, didn't I know they are harmless....did I know they jump.....far?!!!  I saw this one extended up on his hind legs and ready to pounce.  It literally took the breath out of me.

You can say I become somewhat numb to the species after awhile.  Skimming up Mamma Tarantula and her 5 drowned babies from the bottom of my pool every morning isn't psychologically damaging at all.

The day I had prayed for finally came.  In the winter of 2005 I knew my sweet baby girl and dear pug would be safe.  They were forecasting a freeze!  Instead of emerging victorious and considerably larger in the spring.....this year those suckers and their offspring would be frozen dead!

What a spectacle.  The city shut down for 48 hours.  Gas stations and grocery stores were closed.  All main expressways into and out of San Antonio were down and truckers had to sit on the side of the road and wait it out.  Rescue workers brought nourishment to "stranded" cars.  And, my personal favorite.  The ANCHORMAN of the San Antonio news held up an ICICLE on my TV screen and actually said, "Look at this everyone!  This is an icicle!"

I know.  Please take a moment to digest that.

The majority of our dear friends kill innocent animals and then garnish their trappings on furniture or showcase the reindeer's beautiful antlers high on their mantels.  I do have one sweet friend Joe, who after he catches a fish....he throws it back.

He's an anomaly in The Land of Texas.

All that being said, there are days that my heart aches for the 80 degree temperatures in November-February or the hundreds of peaches that would drop from our backyard tree for my birthday every year that provided the neighborhood with peach margaritas like no other and in general, the city where I delivered both my baby girls.

Dallas is much different.  Not nearly as different as the move from Chicago to San Antonio by any stretch of the imagination.

As of January 1st I removed San Antonio's daily weather forecast from my kitchen display.  A small, yet extremely significant move in my quest to plant our roots here.  

I can do this.  I can do anything.