I know it's been too long since I blogged, but what can I say? I've been so pooped after work I haven't had the energy to sit down and write. However, right now I'm propped up on the couch watching a bunch of brilliant kids compete in the national Spelling Bee. (I'm also eating a brownie. Mmmm.) These kids are incredible. I feel really, really dumb watching them.
While I sit on my duff, David's at rehearsal - number 2 of 3 this week. He's got two gigs coming up, and the CD release date is estimated to be June 19th (check the website - http://www.davidyeagerband.com/). Sooo exciting!
As for me and Baby Girl, June 28th is exactly one month away... Can't wait. I'm still thinking I wouldn't mind it too much if she came early.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
So Cool!
Last Friday David prepared two of the songs off the upcoming album and went and played them at a local songwriters' workshop at a recording studio in Aurora. (For those of you who are curious, he chose Testify and Sound.) Apparently this is something the studio does monthly. The other musicians rate the performances, focusing on the songwriting, and give constructive criticism and/or praise. The performer with the highest marks gets to return the next month as the featured artist.
And guess what? We received a response today. Check it out, check it out:
The studio is called Back Third Audio. Check out the blog to find out some of the fun stuff they do with local musicians.
And for fun, if you haven't already seen this on the DYB blog, here's a teaser of the album art DiscMakers is working on. Fun stuff!
And guess what? We received a response today. Check it out, check it out:
"David:
Congratulations! I’ve processed all the artist feedback from last week’s Songwriters’ Showcase, and you were the favorite. We’re thrilled to invite you back next month – as our Featured Artist.
(More stuff that I cut out...)
Could you respond to this e-mail as soon as possible and confirm that you’ll be able to play at the next Showcase on Tuesday, June 2?
Thanks – and congratulations again!
Benjie"
How cool is that? He won! The band is already featured online, too.
The studio is called Back Third Audio. Check out the blog to find out some of the fun stuff they do with local musicians.
And for fun, if you haven't already seen this on the DYB blog, here's a teaser of the album art DiscMakers is working on. Fun stuff!
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Squirrels
David and I are trying our hand at survival landscaping this spring. Our yard looks like junk. Our trees need to be trimmed, our lawn treated and weeded, and our flowerbeds redone. I’d love to rip out the bushes in front of our house and plant small flowering trees. I’d love to mulch and put in a new walk to the front door. I’d love to bury the sump pump hose that sticks out from behind the little evergreen tree in front of our picture window, so that it’s not sitting in the middle of my garden, spilling rainwater out onto our driveway. But we can’t afford (and don’t have time for) any of that right now. Hence the “survival landscaping” mode. I weed, I rake, and I try to clean things up and plant little things here and there to at least brighten the site. And it pays off. Today D walked off with BOTH sets of car keys, and so a coworker had to pick me up. When she came to the front door, she told me the house was looking really good. Score. Yay for small victories.
That said, I have to tell this story. Backtracking just a bit.
After my morning shower I wandered out into the living room to open the curtains and let the morning sun into our chilly living room. I looked down at our newly planted geraniums and impatiens, feeling rather pleased with myself, and noticed not one, but four squirrels playing by our front door. Now, we have a lot of squirrels in our neighborhood, but four on our front stoop is rather much. I watched them for a minute, and saw them scamper through our little garden in front of the picture window. “Are they eating my flowers?” I gasped, seething a bit inside. I watched some more. The four of them scampered up the branches of that tiny evergreen tree, rocking the little thing back and forth with all their antics. “What is going on?” I wondered. I kept eyeing them, waiting for one to chomp on a flower.
But then they ran down the tree. I felt a modicum of relief. One squirrel, a chunky black one, took off and hid under my car. Another squirrel, a brown one, paused on the sidewalk. But, to my horror, the other two squirrels went racing up the thick black sump pump hose, rocking and rolling around inside it. Up and down they ran, enjoying their own personal playground. And then it hit me…
Can a normal sized squirrel squeeze into a 2-inch PVC pipe?
I really don’t want to be calling the plumber to remove drowned squirrels from our sump pump.
That said, I have to tell this story. Backtracking just a bit.
After my morning shower I wandered out into the living room to open the curtains and let the morning sun into our chilly living room. I looked down at our newly planted geraniums and impatiens, feeling rather pleased with myself, and noticed not one, but four squirrels playing by our front door. Now, we have a lot of squirrels in our neighborhood, but four on our front stoop is rather much. I watched them for a minute, and saw them scamper through our little garden in front of the picture window. “Are they eating my flowers?” I gasped, seething a bit inside. I watched some more. The four of them scampered up the branches of that tiny evergreen tree, rocking the little thing back and forth with all their antics. “What is going on?” I wondered. I kept eyeing them, waiting for one to chomp on a flower.
But then they ran down the tree. I felt a modicum of relief. One squirrel, a chunky black one, took off and hid under my car. Another squirrel, a brown one, paused on the sidewalk. But, to my horror, the other two squirrels went racing up the thick black sump pump hose, rocking and rolling around inside it. Up and down they ran, enjoying their own personal playground. And then it hit me…
Can a normal sized squirrel squeeze into a 2-inch PVC pipe?
I really don’t want to be calling the plumber to remove drowned squirrels from our sump pump.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Something I Like
I like when my husband misses me. More accurately, I like when he expresses that he misses (or will miss) me.
Case in point: Tonight I had a haircut scheduled almost immediately after work. When D called on his way home, I let him know I had to rush home to grab a bite to eat and run right back out the door to get to the salon on time. I told him I probably wouldn't see him before he left for rehearsal tonight. He said okay and hung up.
As I was running out of the house a bit later, I saw my handsome Vid coming up the sidewalk. We waved to one another, and instead of jumping right in the car (as my hyper type-A, be-on-time personality wanted to do) I paused at the side of my car. My dear husband greeted me with a kiss and the words, "You're leaving already?"
"Yes, I told you that when you called from the train."
"Well, it was hard to hear you from the train. I didn't know."
"Oh... well... I've got to go to be on time... I'm sorry, honey."
"Oh no, it's fine. (Quick kiss and a sad face.) It just means I won't get to see you tonight."
Sweet, sweet boy.
Case in point: Tonight I had a haircut scheduled almost immediately after work. When D called on his way home, I let him know I had to rush home to grab a bite to eat and run right back out the door to get to the salon on time. I told him I probably wouldn't see him before he left for rehearsal tonight. He said okay and hung up.
As I was running out of the house a bit later, I saw my handsome Vid coming up the sidewalk. We waved to one another, and instead of jumping right in the car (as my hyper type-A, be-on-time personality wanted to do) I paused at the side of my car. My dear husband greeted me with a kiss and the words, "You're leaving already?"
"Yes, I told you that when you called from the train."
"Well, it was hard to hear you from the train. I didn't know."
"Oh... well... I've got to go to be on time... I'm sorry, honey."
"Oh no, it's fine. (Quick kiss and a sad face.) It just means I won't get to see you tonight."
Sweet, sweet boy.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Gardening
I am sitting on the couch with my Fred Flintstone feet propped up in front of me. As I type, D is practicing Jill. Over and over again.
I hurt. A lot.
Not because of D and his song, but because I accidentally worked out yesterday. (Which reminds me just now that I had a dream last night about jogging, and I woke rather concerned that I had exerted such energy, albeit in an unconscious state. Perhaps in my moments of drowsiness, I thought I might accidentally do something similar while awake. Who knows. Anyway... that is not why I am writing this post.)
I did accidentally work out on Sunday. See, this past weekend D and I went to St. Louis to celebrate my sister's birthday. My grandmother actually hatched the plan, convincing my mother, aunt, and uncle to join her in surprising my sister. We showed up on her doorstep on Saturday morning armed with presents, but unfortunately, no birthday cake. She seemed surprised and happy to see us. After a day of relaxing, eating LOTS of yummy food, and playing with her new puppy, Mia (not a birthday present), D and I returned home.
The weather on Sunday was gorgeous - sunny and in the 60s. As soon as we stepped foot on our lawn, I was itching to do some work outside. Long story short, I convinced David to NOT go play Frisbee with Scott and Joel (I'm such a cruel wife), but to stay with me and mow the lawn while I did some gardening in the front. I'd been anxious for weeks to get out and clean up the gardens in the front, but I'd been either A. thwarted by the weather, or B. stalled by the fear of working alone... that I would, in my preggo state, get down on hands and knees and not be able to get back up again. And I'd be stuck there until evening, when Vid returned from wherever he was. Or that I would faint in one of my low-blood-pressure-or-low-blood-sugar-no-one-really-knows-why-I-black-out moments. But man, today was the day.
See, sometime in February, one million little snowdrops sprouted in our garden. They were sort of pretty for about a week. I mean, who doesn't like to see growing things in the winter in Illinois? But the thing is... they had populated the available soil in a really odd way. One side was practically carpeted with the tiny flowers, and the other side was sparse. Some places there was just one bloom, and other places a whole big bunch grew together. And then all the tiny little blooms wilted and died in about a week... leaving us with what looked like a garden full of crab grass. And, while I like flowers a lot and feel guilty at the thought of ripping perfectly healthy growing things out of the ground, they had to go.
So that's what I did. I dug up one million billion gajillion little tiny snowdrop bulbs. I left the crocuses and the tulips alone. And our garden looks much better - much cleaner. (And now I want to go buy different flowers to add a bit of color to the front of the house. Ironic, right? A waste of money? Remember people... they looked like crab grass...) The job took about three hours. I was on my knees or my bum the entire time.
And by noon today, my body was on fire. I hurt from the waist down. Even the palms of my hands hurt (I assume from gripping the spade?) and my fingers ache.
I'd love a glass of wine. And maybe a soak in a hot tub. Alas, alack.
I hurt. A lot.
Not because of D and his song, but because I accidentally worked out yesterday. (Which reminds me just now that I had a dream last night about jogging, and I woke rather concerned that I had exerted such energy, albeit in an unconscious state. Perhaps in my moments of drowsiness, I thought I might accidentally do something similar while awake. Who knows. Anyway... that is not why I am writing this post.)
I did accidentally work out on Sunday. See, this past weekend D and I went to St. Louis to celebrate my sister's birthday. My grandmother actually hatched the plan, convincing my mother, aunt, and uncle to join her in surprising my sister. We showed up on her doorstep on Saturday morning armed with presents, but unfortunately, no birthday cake. She seemed surprised and happy to see us. After a day of relaxing, eating LOTS of yummy food, and playing with her new puppy, Mia (not a birthday present), D and I returned home.
The weather on Sunday was gorgeous - sunny and in the 60s. As soon as we stepped foot on our lawn, I was itching to do some work outside. Long story short, I convinced David to NOT go play Frisbee with Scott and Joel (I'm such a cruel wife), but to stay with me and mow the lawn while I did some gardening in the front. I'd been anxious for weeks to get out and clean up the gardens in the front, but I'd been either A. thwarted by the weather, or B. stalled by the fear of working alone... that I would, in my preggo state, get down on hands and knees and not be able to get back up again. And I'd be stuck there until evening, when Vid returned from wherever he was. Or that I would faint in one of my low-blood-pressure-or-low-blood-sugar-no-one-really-knows-why-I-black-out moments. But man, today was the day.
See, sometime in February, one million little snowdrops sprouted in our garden. They were sort of pretty for about a week. I mean, who doesn't like to see growing things in the winter in Illinois? But the thing is... they had populated the available soil in a really odd way. One side was practically carpeted with the tiny flowers, and the other side was sparse. Some places there was just one bloom, and other places a whole big bunch grew together. And then all the tiny little blooms wilted and died in about a week... leaving us with what looked like a garden full of crab grass. And, while I like flowers a lot and feel guilty at the thought of ripping perfectly healthy growing things out of the ground, they had to go.
So that's what I did. I dug up one million billion gajillion little tiny snowdrop bulbs. I left the crocuses and the tulips alone. And our garden looks much better - much cleaner. (And now I want to go buy different flowers to add a bit of color to the front of the house. Ironic, right? A waste of money? Remember people... they looked like crab grass...) The job took about three hours. I was on my knees or my bum the entire time.
And by noon today, my body was on fire. I hurt from the waist down. Even the palms of my hands hurt (I assume from gripping the spade?) and my fingers ache.
I'd love a glass of wine. And maybe a soak in a hot tub. Alas, alack.
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