A Good Sport

Most of you know that I work a few weekends a month with the body that sanctions mixed martial arts, boxing, and tough man competitions across the state. I hear it all the time, “I can’t believe you like watching something so barbaric.” I know it’s hard to believe that someone who has never broken a bone or been into playing competitive sports would want to spend her weekends with people who fight for fun. Normally, I'm a girly girl, into heels, pearls, and playing well with others, but I confess that I do love MMA. And if I’m violating some sort of rule by blogging about this part-time job, please tell me quickly so I can remove this blog post haste!

First, let me go on the record to say this about mixed martial arts (MMA): Yes, they fight but it’s not about fighting. It’s about precision, skill, competition, and strategy. And, hands down, the fighters and seconds (trainers and coaches who do their thing in the corner of the ring or cage) are probably some of the nicest people I’ve ever met. They are humble, friendly, and focused, and they follow directions without a hassle. They make my job easy.

MMA is different from other sports; the rivalries you find in other arenas just don’t seem to exist here. I supposed they do when fighters get to “the big time”, but from what I’ve seen, since the sport is relatively new to NC, the fighters are all of the mindset that they’re working together to make a good name for the sport and to provide quality entertainment for the fans.  It’s not at all unusual to see fighters, once they leave the cage, working together in the back on holds and escapes, learning from whatever just happened in the ring. It’s not out of the ordinary to see large groups of “opposing teams” praying together before a fight and making plans to meet at Waffle House after. The sportsmanship and camaraderie is, I would venture to say, unparalleled by any other sport. It’s pretty amazing.

Not too long ago, I had the opportunity to work a fight in the western part of the state. It was a slugfest and both men were battered and banged up by the end of the second round. In the third round, the crowd favorite unleashed a monster jab to his opponent’s head, splitting at least a 2 inch gash in his noggin, effectively ending the fight. To say it was nasty doesn’t begin to do it justice.

The crowd went wild and the hometown boy had another mark in his win column. No one was supposed to care about the bloody pulp of a loser, right? Wrong.

I was in the back with the defeated fighter when Mr. Hometown Proud immediately walked over, and meekly said, “Man, you need stitches. My corner can sew you up.” And he did. The coach came over and sewed up the loser while the winner, who could have been out taking photos with the fans or watching the next fight, sat right there with him, encouraging and supporting him during this impromptu surgery (which was pretty fascinating to watch, if I do say so myself). As much as the loser congratulated the winner, the winner consoled the loser and apologized for his pain. In that moment, it didn’t matter who won and who lost. They weren’t opponents; they weren’t enemies. They were warriors, nursing their wounds and sharing a love of the sport, appreciating the camaraderie and determination it takes to enter the octagon and come out the other side. It’s fighters like that, who display this remarkable level of sportsmanship on a continual basis, that make this girly girl proud to be an MMA fan.

Monday Music Review- Matt Nathanson

Monday Music Review on Sunday? Yes, because Monday comes quickly and I want you to be prepared in the morning when you roll out of bed in need of coffee and a good tune to get you moving. So, for this blog, the Monday Music Review (which may become a regular feature) comes a day early because it’s my party. And that’s the way I want it.

A few weeks ago, I introduced you to Jensen Ackles and I told you he was the eye candy on a few YouTube videos. While surfing around for some of Jensen’s songs I hadn’t yet heard, I happened upon a great song entitled Just You. The video was Jensen’s photos but the comments included a heated discussion about whether Jensen or Matt Nathanson was singing the song. That reminded me that Matt Nathanson had crossed my musical radar before. Oh hello, Matt Nathanson, nice to see you again.

I first heard his name on Sugarland’s Love on the Inside album (2008), as Jennifer Nettles said the bonus song Come on Get Higher was written by Matt. Matt’s version of the song helped send his album Some Mad Hope platinum; you probably heard it on mainstream radio since they played it constantly.

Matt’s music is a blend of folk and rock; and the reviewers make a huge deal about the fact that his lyrics are supported by a twelve-string acoustic guitar. I don’t really know much about guitars but apparently, more strings equals more difficult and more amazing.

Matt’s songs tell stories but they are written in such a magical way that you have no difficulty following along and putting your own life’s story into the video in your mind. Every Matt Nathanson song reminds me of someone who is now, or who used to be, in my life. That makes me happy and sad at the very same moment. Not a lot of artists can hit you on both ends of your emotional spectrum like that. Those are the kinds of artists, though, that I like to keep on my playlist.

Matt has a great sound and even better lyrics; he’s got the words for everything you want to say even when you didn't know you wanted to say anything. It’s as if Matt is pouring all of his confusion, heartbreak, and hope out on paper. In the moments when misery loves company, Matt Nathanson will be your friend with Bulletproof Weeks. With the lyrics, “talking to what’s left of you, and watching what I say... you sit on your bed, just waiting for right words to come”, I can picture one of those break-ups where one person is trying too hard to fix what’s broken and the other is walking away for a reason they can’t even express. It’s a painful confusion that’s familiar, at one point in life or another, to each of us, yet after Matt gets hold of it and gives it words, you feel like you would have missed something if you’d not been in that struggle for love. Not that you would want to do it again, but that you look back on it differently somehow. It takes an incredibly gifted songwriter to reframe a memory and still make it applicable to the masses; Matt Nathanson has done this remarkably well.

With great tunes like Wedding Dress, Still, Gone, and Sooner Surrender, and Falling Apart, Matt Nathanson’s Some Mad Hope should be in your music collection. And, he has a new album coming out in the Spring 2011 so stay tuned.

Curly Customer Service

For anyone who has curly hair, be it a blessing or a curse in your mind, you know the challenges of the maintenance. If you look great at home, and there’s humidity, you will not look great by the time you get to work. If you clip it up in the morning, you are bound to that clip all day. There is no changing the style from day to evening. If you find a product that works great, it will either stop working in a few months or they will stop making it. And good luck finding a hairdresser that understands that thinning shears aren’t the answer, that layers will not always work, and that when it dries, it will be shorter so you can’t cut to the length you see, you cut to the length you anticipate.

A few years ago, I found a company that understood the curly dilemma and I’ve been a loyal Ouidad customer ever since. This company trains stylists and let me assure you, they are well compensated for this specialized training. I have been known to drive to Pineville, which makes a haircut an all day experience.  They have a fantastic line of products that, after three years of continual use, still work like day one (and let me assure you, they are a bit pricey but are worth their weight in gold to this curly girl). This week, on top of the fact that they donate a portion of their proceeds to charities that support cancer survivors, I found yet another reason to love Ouidad.

I placed an on-line order (which, by the way, was not cheap) and there was a glitch in the system so somehow, I placed two on-line orders. While I’m willing to drive far enough to consider a haircut a day trip and abandon all rules of frugality to get the products, this duplicate order was a considerable blow to the already stretched budget. So, did I call to cancel or did I just hang on to the second order and use it when I got around to it? I pondered. And decided I’d decide after lunch. I always think more clearly on a full stomach. Within 30 minutes, the phone rang and it was a Ouidad customer service representative who noticed my duplicate order and was verifying that this was really what I meant to order. I explained my computer glitch and she immediately cancelled one order. I was happily back within my budget and Ouidad gets massive points for having proactive customer service.

In this day and age of terrible customer service, and rest assured I have those experiences too, it’s nice to know that there are still companies that are paying attention, that care about their customers, and that are looking out for the curly girls. We need all the help we can get J

What's Up, Weather Channel?

As a general rule, I don’t watch the news. I’m either not at home or I’m doing other things or I’m just not interested in hearing about all of the negative things going on in the world. I do, however, like to know what’s going on in the world of weather. Well, let me clarify that. Not all things weather; I really don’t care about how the Jet is Streaming or what effect the Lake Effect Snow is having. And, I’m sure I’m not the only one who would happily forego the colored ozone warnings and the Doppler radar loops to get right to the “important” information, the numbers that hold the answer the question- is it too cold for a skirt or should I wear pants? Because really, don’t we watch the weather simply to know what to wear? In a deliberate effort to skip all of the other news and speed up this decision-making (and subsequent ironing) process, I hop on over to the Weather Channel, which is supposed to give me Weather on the 8s and a running scroll at the bottom of my screen with the high/lows and extended forecast for my area towns. Simple. Easy. WRONG.

In true ‘never where I need to be when I need to be there’ fashion, I’m never on the Weather Channel on an 8 so I’m stuck watching either A. a story about a group of guys in a pick-up truck that are trying to track down a tornado or B. the forecast for some far-away place that I have about a snowball’s chance of ever visiting. And since I know my patience will not survive until an 8, I count on the scroll. And what a handy dandy thing that should be. BUT ISN’T. When my town appears, it tells me the temperature NOW is a degree in the teens (because it’s somewhere around 5:45 a.m.). Fine. No problem. The next thing it tells me is tomorrow’s high. WHAT? Did I blink? What about today’s high? This morning, the scroll took me from ‘now’ to Saturday and on through the predicted highs until next Wednesday. And then we went through four or five other cities in the same format- now, tomorrow… to Wednesday, before coming back to mine and again, today’s high was nowhere to be seen. And then we went to commercials, lots of commercials. By the time we got back from that break, we were at an 8 and I thought, “Yahoo, finally weather!” But NOOOOOO. I had to watch the radar loop a few times from a few different angles AND the colored ozone warnings (particulates in the air today, friends, breath with caution), AND the travel forecast for a ski slope in WVA I’d never heard of, AND the historical almanac of last year versus yesterday BEFORE I learned that long-sleeves (without a coat, if I walked fast) would be fine for today. And by this time, my hair was starting to frizz and I was on the verge of being late for work. I think “I was waiting on the weather” probably ranks up there with “the dog ate my homework” as far as excuses go but what can you do, right? 

I would really like to call The Weather Channel and find out 1. Why the scroll skips over the most crucial piece of information and 2. Who decided on the order of the slides in the Weather on the 8s feature because it’s really not working for me. I bet if I called they wouldn’t talk to me. They, after all, are probably too busy chasing down a tornado to worry about a little thing like the weather.

Which Way to the Which Wich?

One day this week, the co-workers and I headed out for lunch at a place we don’t too often frequent. It’s funny that when we do go there, someone always asks, “Why don’t we come here more often?” and we never have a good answer. I think that because it’s a little out of the way, we almost forget it’s there. But it does make my day when someone says, “Which way to the Which Wich?”

Which Wich is a “superior sandwich shop” that takes brown bagging to a whole other level.

(Photo taken from the Which Wich website. Let's hope this disclaimer keeps me out of copyright infringement jail.)

How it works: Let’s say you want a buffalo chicken sandwich (which is, by the way, which wich I had and it was yummy!). You check the menu and see that the chicken sandwiches are category 4. So, you go to the metal bin labeled 4 and pull out a pre-printed bag that lists all the chicken sandwiches (plain, buffalo, chicken parm, etc.), condiments, and available cheeses and other toppings. Beside each item is a circle, very much like the SAT’s bubble score sheet. Once you're over the high school flashbacks, grab a marker and fill in the bubbles next to your desired sandwich type and toppings. You write your name (or some other clever phrase) on the bag, hand it to the cashier and pay. You get excited when you realize your receipt has a coupon for a free cookie on your next visit. You fill up your cup and wait until they call your name. They hand you the bag and off you go. Ta da! You have a Which Wich!

Why it works: Which Wich works for several reasons. One, there are about 50 sandwich options so if you can’t find a Which Wich you like, you probably have a whole other set of issues. (If you’re not a lunch person, they have breakfast wiches too.) Two, you can see all of your options printed right there on your bag so you don’t miss a topping you didn’t realize they had. Because, let’s face it, fewer things are more annoying than getting to your table and realizing you could have had pepper jack cheese instead of cheddar. Three, no one around you knows what you ordered. It’s like a sandwich privacy clause, and sometimes, if you have “special tastes”, you might need that. Not everyone likes announcing to the world what they’re eating (says the girl who spent all of the third grade (and one night last week) eating peanut butter and dill pickle sandwiches).  Four, the prices are reasonable. And last but not least, the Which Wich is just across Lake Boone Trail from Rex Hospital so there’s usually some Dr. Cutie McWich eating there as well. And let’s face it, half the reason for going out to lunch is the scenery. J

So the next time someone asks you what’s for lunch, grab your purse ((and your receipt from last time- free cookie, remember?) and ask, “Which way to the Which Wich?”

A Year Later...

“Sometimes, when one person is missing, the whole world seems depopulated.”  ~Lamartine

One year ago today, the phone rang and time stood still. My grandfather had joined the ranks of the angels in Heaven and my world was suddenly and irrevocably depopulated.

He’d been in the hospital for a few weeks and we knew things weren’t good but nothing prepares you for the moment of that phone call. In the same way, I’ve learned, nothing prepares you for how to move on from that moment. I’m not sure that I’ve done it very well; in all honesty, I’m almost glad I haven’t. That the heartache still lingers tells me that the very special place he held in my heart is still there. And will remain.

In the years between my grandmother’s passing and his journey home, we worried that he would be lonely or that he wouldn’t fair well living alone. What started out as a little mission to keep tabs on things turned into some of my most cherished memories.

Thursday nights, 8:00 sharp, I’d call him. If I didn’t call him, my phone was ringing by 8:02. Everyone who spent any time with me knew that time slot was taken, no exceptions. Sometimes we’d talk for 5 minutes, sometimes 45. And if there were an occasional glitch in my schedule, I always found a substitute (and rumor has it, when he realized it wasn’t me on the line, there was a disappointed “oh, where is she?”). I always knew he loved me best! J

We’d play Who Wants to Be a Millionaire over the phone. We’d play Are You Smarter than a 5^th Grader? (He was; me, not so much. Come to find out, when we’d play, it was a rerun of the day’s earlier episode… that he’d already watched! Sneaky fella, my grandpa!) We’d talk about the weather and if there’s a man on the planet who knows more weather trivia than he, I’d really like to meet him. We’d talk about current events and news. Between the two of us, we had some great solutions for most of the world’s problems. We’d talk about family members I’d never met. He’d tell me about things from the past- his travels square dancing with my grandma, his work at the plant, or more recent things- the week’s trips around town, visits to the turtle pond with a friend, or this or that. Nothing that really mattered yet everything that really matters. And every call ended the same way:

Me: “I’ll call you next week.”

Him: “Not if I call you first.”

Me: “I love you.”

Him: “I love you, too.”

I learned more about him in the last few years of his life than I did in the first 30 of mine. That, as I look back, saddens me. I have kicked myself 10,000 times for not initiating the Thursday night phone call earlier, while both he and my grandmother were around. I’d give nearly anything under the sun to have one more call but then again, the difficult thing about having such a profound tradition is finding a new normal when it’s gone. I'm not quite there yet.

Because I leave for work in the dark and I get back home in the dark, I took some time this weekend to celebrate the life of my grandfather by releasing balloons in his honor. I’m pretty sure there’s room in his mansion in Heaven for them. I imagine that the view from his window looks out over my house and that he keeps an eye on me… when he’s not brushing up on his trivia for Millionaire and 5^th Grader. I’m also absolutely certain that he checks his watch at 8:00 sharp on Thursday nights up there, just the same way I do down here.

Miss you madly. Think of you always. Love you forever.

Midweek Movie Review- The Town

I know what you’re thinking, “It’s not Wednesday. Why are we having the midweek movie review a day early?” Well, because we can! And don’t you think that sometimes Tuesday is as much of a hump day as Wednesday?

So, here we go. Welcome to The Town. 

Doug (played by Ben Affleck who coincidentally wrote the screenplay and directed this film) and his three best friends are a band of smooth operating bank robbers. Things are going well until they take bank manager Claire hostage but let her go unharmed. James, who can’t afford a third strike, worries about leaving a witness so Doug volunteers to “take care of it”. But when he meets her, it’s not that simple. I suppose no one told Doug that the number one rule of being a bank robber is do not fall in love with the one woman who can send you to prison. So Doug’s left to choose between his boys and his girl, his “family” and his future.

There are three, well maybe four, reasons I really liked The Town.

1-      Boston: Having traveled to Boston, it was fun to see some landmarks and familiar places. I don’t know about you but I love watching movies filmed in places I’ve been. It makes me feel like some sort of jet-setting world traveler.

2-      This conversation between Doug and James:

Doug: I need your help. I can't tell you what it is, you can never ask me about it later, and we're gonna hurt some people.

James: ...Whose car we takin'?

I think everyone needs one of these forever friends, you know, one of those people who has your back, who would go anywhere with you, no matter what. Not that I'd invite a forever friend to go with me to beat someone up, but somehow it makes me feel better to know that I could if I wanted to.

3-      The car chase. It was as good as the one in Vantage Point. Almost.

4-      Ben Affleck- talented actor, seasoned screenwriter, up-and-coming director, and exceptional wearer of t-shirts and shades. That Jennifer Garner is one lucky lady.

The Town would be a fun date night movie, guns (the semi-automatic kind), green, and greed for the guys; guns (the bicep kind), romance and a very sweet voice-over letter for the girls.

Check out The Town and when the armored truck runs into the souvenir shop outside the ball park, think of me. I bought a Red Sox shirt there. I love Boston.