H is for How Many H Words Describe Me?

HIn doing this A-Z Challenge, each letter brings with it a lot of thoughtful consideration; first and foremost, what word am I going to choose to write about. Well, the Scrabble dictionary is always a great resource when you get stumped and can’t think of a word you want to write about. I started looking through the list of words that start with H, and I found myself saying, “Holy shit, a lot of these words describe me.” So I set out to compile of list of my own: H words that can be used to describe me. Here they are, in no particular order:

H is for Homegirl – I am definitely a Homegirl! I love my home town. I’m a Buffalo/Niagara Falls girl all the way! I love just about everything about my hometown. The people, the food (chicken wings, beef on weck, DiCamillo’s bread, Mariposa’s subs, Sahlen’s hot dogs and Weber’s Horseradish Mustard to be among my favorites), the weather (yes, I miss the weather there!), the Falls, the Bills, the Sabres, and did I mention the people? OMG, my peeps are the BEST! Rock on Buffalo. Sing to me Niagara Falls. Oh yeah.

(I might even be described as being a bit Homesick too…)

H is for Hissy Fit – Yep, I’ve been known to have a few of those. More than a few actually. A lot less now that I’m older though. I used to be a perfectionist and any little thing out of place or out of order could throw me into a tizzy hissy, but I just don’t give a shit anymore. Perfection is way overrated.

H is for Homebody – I can most definitely be a homebody. I like to go out, don’t get me wrong, and I like hanging out with cool people, but I’m also more than happy to stay home and be content in my own little world. I enjoy my home, my dogs are the loves of my life and I just dig hanging out on my new deck, watching the birds and squirrels, listening to the wind-chimes and watching my trees grow. I planted eight trees in the last few years…and gave names to each of them.  Willow, naturally, is my Weeping Willow, Mabelene is my Big Tooth Maple, Goldie is my Goldenraintree, Dagwood is my Flowering Dogwood, Brian Oakley is my Bur Oak (partially named after the man who transplanted him for me; I just couldn’t hang with where the squirrels had placed that acorn last year), the Hawthorne Brothers are the two Washington Hawthones that I planted side by side, “Red” is my Eastern Redbud and Sarge is the Sargeant Crabapple. Oh yeah, and my inside tree, Trojan, the Rubber Tree Plant. So yeah, I dig hanging at home. Especially at this time of year, when all the trees are starting to bud out: what a source of accomplishment I feel when I see their growth! Plus being at home means I can stay in my pajamas (or my cool caftan, which I’m wearing right now) all damn day if I want to! Love that.

H is for Hemorrhoid  – I have been called a hemorrhoid before and I can only suspect that’s because I can be a total pain in the ass sometimes. Yeah, definitely that.

H is for Hormonal – Oh my God, Yes! Menopause is a fucking horrible ride! Does this shit ever end???? I mean, seriously?! Oh. My. God. Enough said.

H is for Hardheaded – I guess so. Okay, I admit it. I am one hardheaded motherfucker sometimes. Just ask my family and my exes. On second thought, scrap that. Just trust me, I am. Leave it at that. Please.

H is for Haunted – Aren’t we all? Aren’t we all plagued by the ghosts of our pasts?

H is for Happy – yeah, I think for the most part I am happy. Although a lot more money would push that statement into the definite column. Yeah, more money would definitely make me happier.

H is for Hammered –Yes, I’ve been known to be hammered in the past. I used to own a bar, for Christ’s sake. Of course I was hammered a lot — but definitely more then than now, that’s for sure. Now, I’m a wimp.

H is for Hopeful – More now than I used to be. Since my expectations are lower and more realistic now that I’m older, there’s a lesser chance that I’ll end up disappointed. Now, that doesn’t mean that I’ve thrown out all my naïve hopes of being rich: I still hope that I’m going to win the Publisher’s Clearinghouse Grand Prize of $7000 a week for life! And on those days that the Prize Patrol is out heading to the home of an unsuspecting prize winner, I make sure I stay at home and get fully dressed, just in case. And I fill out every single receipt survey, especially the ones from Lowe’s. I can always find some home improvement project on which I could spend $5000. And I did after all win a fabulous 7 day Carribean cruise including airfare from Austin to Ft. Lauderdale plus $300 to spend onboard the ship a few years ago. So yeah, it does happen. I just really want to win The Big One!

H is for Helpful – I hope I am that.

H is for Handful – Yes, I am. In more ways than one…

H is for Herself – A lot of people would probably describe me as being myself all the time. I would correct them and say that I’m myself a good part of the time. In those other times, a lot of me stays hidden. But hopefully this blog is helping me to become comfortable in revealing more of that girl who isn’t yet brave enough to let it all hang out. More of that coming though — sooner than later…

 

 

 

Copyright © 2014 Michele Truhlik. All Rights Reserved.

 

 

C is for Concerts

C

A friend of mine posted this cartoon on his Facebook page a while back and it really resonated with me. I think it might very accurately foreshadow days to come.  cartoon of old men arguing about how the best rock band is

This cartoon also took me down a long and winding road of memories. Memories of all of the concerts I attended back in the day. Some more hazy than others. Back in the day when Bad Company was headlining and Kansas was the opening band and my ticket to the show cost $6. All the way back to the days when I was so young that parents had to drop us kids off to see Peter Frampton and Rick Derringer. Back in the day when everyone was so generous with their weed and there was a constant flow of joints being passed down the rows. I told someone not long ago that I had seen Steppenwolf…and immediately thought, “Steppenwolf? Holy shit, I’m old!” Old enough that when I saw this superstar line-up of George Thorogood, Loverboy, Journey and the Rolling Stones together the ticket price was only $15!!

Rolling Stones stub cropped

That was one crazy concert with a really cr-aazy crowd. It was held at Orchard Park’s Rich Stadium, former home of the Buffalo Bills. Orchard Park was never quite the same after that show. First of all, there were a zillion people standing in line and for some reason the stadium folks just would not open the gates. We stood out there forever. Everyone was starting to get antsy and irritated and we all stood around bitching until a few unruly and angry folks decided to bust through the fence. Well, you can imagine what happened next. First one panel of fence was down and a few people squeezed through. Then another panel started going down, and another, and another and suddenly it became a tsunami of people rushing and crawling over trampled fencing. But alas, we were in.

We found our seats and were excited as we settled in, waiting for the first band to come out. It started to rain. It wasn’t bad at first, just a little shower, but then the sky opened up and dumped buckets of cold rain upon us. People were covering up with tarps and whatever else we could find. But the show went on. It poured like a motherfucker the whole time, all through George Thorogood’s performance, all through Loverboy’s, through Journey’s. But what happened next was so mind-blowing …well, maybe moreso because we were all stoned… but even to this day I tingle when I think about it. It’s still pouring, pouring, pouring, I’m talkin’ practically torrential, when Mick Jagger runs out on stage and, I’m not kidding, this truly happened simultaneously, as soon as he reached the mike, the rain. just. stopped. The sun burst out and we were suddenly sitting under blue skies. And for a few moments, everyone stopped and the entire stadium took a collective breath of disbelief. What timing! It was crazy.

(I actually found the Stones’ set list for that concert. You can check it out here.)

And then there was the time at the Black Sabbath/Blue Oyster Cult concert –the Black & Blue tour they called it — when Blue Oyster Cult started to play “E.T.I. (Extra Terrestrial Intelligence),” one of their songs that didn’t get a lot of radio play but happened to be my favorite song on their album, and I shot up out of my seat, arm up over my head, fist pump and a scream Yeeah! And for what seemed like a really long minute, I was the only one standing in the entire convention center because I knew the song from the squeak of the first note while it took the rest of the people a few notes before they figured out what song it was. It was a weird moment, but a cool one.

I had gone to this concert with my friend Chris, one of the funniest guys you’d ever meet, who could keep me laughing for hours. Like the time we were trippin’ and walking around his neighborhood: well, not quite AROUND his neighborhood. We’d walk a few steps and then stop because we were laughing so hard we couldn’t breathe let alone walk; we were out in the street, laughing hysterically for nearly two hours and the farthest we got from his house was three houses down the road, probably in all a total of 180 feet. Anyway, that’s another story. So here we are back at the Black & Blue concert in the Niagara Falls Convention Center and don’t ya know we ended up getting stuck in the middle of what looked like a never-ending row of seats. It wasn’t like that when we sat down. We had great floor seats, 9th row from the stage, dead center. Of course the middle section was flanked by two other sections, one on the right, one on the left (duh!) with walkways separating the three sections. Well, sometime during Blue Oyster Cult’s set, people had moved up to get closer and their chairs filled both walkways. So when the lights went up for intermission, we got up so we could go use the lavatories but stopped short when we saw the row configuration had changed. We looked in both directions and then at each other and both of us, in unison, said, “Nah. We can wait.” We psyched ourselves into believing that we didn’t have to pee THAT bad when really we were just too high to try to navigate through and over the sea of people.

“And then there was this time at the ZZ Top concert…”

“And OMG, at the Aerosmith concert…”

“And here’s what happened at the Supertramp show…”

“Plus the time we were at the Who concert in DC…”

“And then there was this time at the Doobie Brothers and Outlaws concert…”

And on and on I could go. So yeah, I can totally relate to this cartoon. I can fully see myself sitting around with a bunch of old men boasting about how many concerts we’d been to, who had the best seats, who had front row seats, who had the best weed, and all the crazy shenanigans we reveled in back in the day.

I ought to start making my list now before my mid-life memory starts to fade. Thankfully I have a drawer full of concert ticket stubs to help me out if I hit a snag…

Let me hear some of your concert memories! Let’s trip down memory lane together here in the comment section… 

Copyright © 2014 Michele Truhlik. All Rights Reserved.