The Second Balcony is the place to be!

 

Good morning!

So last night Hubby and I went to enjoy my Mother's Day gift from him and the kids.  We went to see Rick Springfield at the Pabst Theater in Milwaukee.  Now, I haven't seen Rick in concert for a few years for a number of reasons:

1) He really hasn't been close by for a couple years.  And I'm not one to get in the car and road trip all over anymore.

2) Many of his fans have had a tendency, in the last ten years, to be out of control hags who are rude to those around him and dump drinks on everyone, especially me. (I will site the "unplugged" show at the Barrymore, the show at the Crystal theater in the Dells, and the last Summerfest show I went to where one of his "front row fans" literally got into a fight with the bass player of the band preceding rick because, well, he wasn't Rick.

3) There is no 3. I just haven't wanted to be associated with the rude, drink dumping drunkards I kept running into at his concerts. Which is a shame, since a most  Rick fans are awesome, and Rick always puts on a super show.  I mean, I've seen him more than a dozen times, obviously I enjoy the shows.  

But I digress.

So we made it a date night, Hubby and I.  We had a quick sandwich and adult beverage at the Newsroom Pub, which is right across from the Pabst Theater and makes some of the best drinks and sandwiches around. The prime rib sammy is AMAZING.  Plus, the fries are actually worth the red calories on Noom.

From our vantage point, we could see concert goers walking up and down the street. It was then that Hubby said the funniest thing of the evening, "There's a lot of Meloxicam coming to this concert tonight."

For those of you with joints that work: Meloxicam is the drug of choice for many of us who have arthritis.  

Hubby wasn't wrong.  I mean, one never thinks of themselves as old, not really, until one sees a stream of one's contemporaries navigating a city block of sidewalk with canes, walkers, and that fun side to side gate many of us have thanks to bum knees and hips.

Hey, when did we Rick fans get so old?

Not an actual group from the concert, but not far off.

After dinner, we headed to the theater, which is a beautiful place.  There's security, of course.  And I'd like to point out that I spent some time earlier in the day swapping vital items from my normal purse to my tiny concert going purse.  I sailed through security.

And then there was Hubby.  

Now, to be fair, Hubby subscribes to Gibbs' rule 9: 

Rule #9: Never go anywhere without a knife.

In this post 911 era, however, following that rule has proven to be a little...inconvenient.  Especially since Hubby tends to forget that he has a knife on him.  It's a tiny little thing, hooked on to his keyring.  

I can't tell you how many knives he's had to surrender at airports, plays, and yes, concert venues. Sometimes he remembers it's on his ring. And sometimes he does not.

Last night...he did not.

So I got through security, which was one lovely older lady holding a tiny flashlight and yelling, "put your hands over your heads" as we walked thorugh the metal detector.  She fished through our wee purses.  Gents handed her their wallets and...keys.

"That can't come in here," she says to Hubby, pointing at the tiny knife (seriously, no longer than a key).  Fortunately for Hubby, we were parked in the underground lot directly under the Pabst.  

Ten minutes later, he was back from the parking garage and we were headed to the Merch booth.  That wasn't a bad line. I did notice that after all these years of touring the Upper Midwest, Rick's T-shirt people finally got the hint and started offering bigger sizes...up to 4X.  SWEET!  We fluffy Rick gals like our concert gear BIG!

Our seats were in the second balcony.  If you've been in these big, old, classic theaters, you know the seats tend to hearken back to yesteryear when people were mostly starving and were shorter than we tend to be today.  Also, in the second balcony, the stairs are STEEP getting to the seats toward the front of the balcony, which we were. 

I settled into my seat and looked around, waiting to see the faces of the people behind me, people who would, undoubtedly, be the ones to dump an adult beverage on me.

There was no one.  Not for three rows of seats, there was no one.

Well, we were still half an hour from go time, so I wasn't all that confident.

Next to us was a family. Yes a family.  Mom, Dad, one wee boy of about 7, and two preteen girls.

"Well," says Hubby, "at least the people next to you won't be drunk."

Silver lining, for sure.

however, between the girls and me were two seats. Two seats which would, very likely, be filled by someone who would have to use the bathroom six times.

Second balcony people don't get anywhere this close.

Time ticket down.  Seats in the row right in front of us, the people in the front row of the balcony, filled up.  Seats across the aisle filled up.  But NOTHING, no one next to us and, more importantly, no one BEHIND US!

The lights went down, the roar of the crowd went up.  LADIES AND GENTLEMEN: RICK SPRINGFIELD!

Sure,  in the second balcony we were having fun that looked like this:

but felt like this. That's how much room we had!

No one to the left of me for two seats. No one behind me for two solid rows!  I'm sorry, Rick, buddy, that you didn't sell out. But we in the second balcony WERE ROCKING OUT!  It was AWESOME!  There was a group of women, small group, couple rows up who were dancing and singing with the joy only people in an unconfined space can feel.

Meanwhile, next to me:

The two young girls, and honestly, they couldn't have been more than 11 years old, were bouncing in their chairs and squealing and singing

ALMOST AS MUCH AS I WAS!

I haven't a clue where Mom went. She might have had one of those front row seats, I don't know. She handed earplugs to everyone and then vanished.  Dad and wee Brother also relocated, but they went to the landing above us at the entrance to the balcony. So Dad was able to see his girls having the time of their lives.

Reminded me of when I took Peaches and a friend to the Jonas Brothers concert years ago.  So adorable.  And the fact that they were enjoying MY fave from my younger years was all that much more fun.

The concert was AMAZING.  Rick has always been a great musician, something that was lost for a time in the midst of his teen heartthrob years.  His albums, btw, in the last 20 years, have been far superior in quality and musical interest than his "hit albums' from the previous 20 years.  He played a number of songs I haven't heard in concert, which was a blast.  

As concert goers will tell you, there's a lot of distortion at live shows.  So when Rick started talking on the mic, I plugged my ears to filter out the distortion and hear what he was saying. I always tell myself I'm going to bring earplugs and then I don't.

Well, wouldn't you know it? Those delightful little woodland fairies next to me saw me plugging my ears. One of them tapped me on the shoulder and handed me extra earplugs.

Sniffle.

Now able to hear everything, I was at a whole new level of happy.  When he started in on "Don't Talk to Strangers" a concert favorite, the whole place went crazy.  But NO ONE enjoyed that song more than the second balcony and especially those of us in Aisle B on the left!

By the time he did Jessie's Girl (shirtless), the tweens were in a level of girlish glee generally reserved for only the biggest of boy bands and, you know, Taylor Swift.  

Props. This guy is almost 74!

Meanwhile, Hubby noted that Rick about to turn 74.  "Which means I have 18 years to get into that kind of shape."

I love Hubby. He makes me laugh.

I wanted to stop and thank the father of the two girls for raising them right: You know, sharing earplugs, enjoying the concert properly, not dumping anything on me, oh, and loving Rick Springfield.  But they took off before the encore was over. Which was smart. I mean, who wants to get stuck in the traffic jam of walkers and canes?

We got out of the concert without incident and, I should note, we only took the elevator down one floor instead of two because, as the guy with the liquor cart told us, "There are people on two who need the elevator more than you."

That was the perfect ending to a great evening!  

FIVE FOR FRIDAY! Why I want to move to Middle Tennessee.

 

Good morning all!  Welcome to the Five for Friday!  This week we're going to address the five top reasons I want to move to Middle Tennessee, and no, it's not because I love Nashville. I mean, I do, but that's not in the top five reason.  Or maybe it is. I don't know. All I know is I've been home from my vaca in Middle TN for a week and I want to go back RIGHT NOW!

(A gentle reminder:  I do not deal with politics in any manner, nor do I allow political comments on my blog or FB page. This blog is for entertainment/humor purposes.  If you want to bark about the political policies of any state, go someplace else. Thank you!)

So here we go with the top five reasons I want to move to Middle Tennessee.

5) They name roads after people they don't know.  Which means I have a shot at getting a road named after me!

I'm not even making this up:  We stayed at place in Lieper's Fork, TN, which is close to Franklin, TN, which is kind of close to Nashville.  If you're in the area, you'll either drive on or cross MACK HATCHER MEMORIAL PARKWAY about fifty times.  It's a very large highway project that was completed a few years back. It's a road that circles Franklin.  If you're in the area, you cannot miss it.  Also, it's new, it's beautiful, and it clearly cost a crap ton of money.

But: who was Mack Hatcher?   Turns out, most of the people who voted for and paid for this highway project had NO CLUE who this dude was. (click on the link to read the news story that the local papers pulled out of dustballs because even the news people didn't know!)

What this means is that I, a fairly unknown entity who works very hard to be a public figure, have a shot at getting some kind of road or avenue or lane named after me...if I move to Middle TN.  I'm pretty sure THAT would boost my book sales, right?

4) Really interesting Civil War history.

This isn't political, this is history, and Tennessee as a state, and Middle Tennessee as a location, is silly with it. Did you know that Tennessee sent more troops to fight for the UNION than any other Confederate state?  And some of the worst battles in the war were fought in Tennessee. 

It's also why, to my complete astonishment, there's a statue honoring Union Colored troops and then not fifty feet away another statue honoring Confederate soldiers in Franklin. I find that fascinating and I want to know more!

3) Biscuits, Biscuits everywhere!

It should come as no surprise that I enjoy a good biscuit. And I'm sure most people know that the best place to find biscuits (the American kind, not the British word for 'cookie') is in the South.  

Did we eat biscuits while we were there?  You know we did!

Pimento cheese and fried green tomatoes on biscuits from the Loveless Cafe.

We ate at the Loveless Cafe (thank you to the show, Somebody Feed Phil, and enjoyed their lard based drop biscuits.  They were good. They were solid and fluffy all at once. I thoroughly enjoyed the pimento cheese (don't knock it 'til you try it) and fried green tomato on the biscuit.  

Then...

It's called the SEC (without cheese for me) and a side of sausage gravy at Biscuit Love.

Then we discovered a happy little place called Biscuit Love where the biscuits were butter based, layered, melty, and beautiful.  In the battle of the biscuits, (so far) this was my favorite.

But THEN...

Oh don't get excited, this is still from Biscuit Love, 

The BONUT.

Those geniuses created the BONUT.  This their biscuit batter dropped into frying oil, then set on a bed of blueberry compote and DRIZZLED (see picture above, if that's drizzled, well, I'd hate to see FROSTED) with a lemon, mascarpone creme.

So, yeah. I need to move to further my studies in biscuits.

Honorable mention, because it's not a biscuit, but it is a baked good:  Five Daughters Bakery

Why this bakery?  Well, their specialty is a little thing called a 100 Layer Doughnut.

Sorry, bakeries in Wisconsin. All other pastries are ruined for me forever.

2) Property Taxes

This is going to be short and sweet.  I enjoy looking at real estate listings in places we visit. I like to see what housing prices are and what property taxes look like.

Know what property taxes are on a $3 million dollar condo in the heart of Downtown Nashville is? We're talking a 3 b4ed, two bath, high rise, all updated, all glorious condo.

$300 a month.

That's what I'm currently paying on my modest little spot here in Wisconsin.

Oh, what about the HOA fees, you ask?  On that $3 million listing...$280 a month. I've seen HOA fees DOUBLE that on a 1 and 1 condo here in Waukesha.  And those don't include underground parking!

Oh yeah, all this and NO PERSONAL INCOME TAXES.

Middle Tennessee here I come!

1) You aren't going to believe this.

If you've read this blog for any amount of time, you know I have one big, overwhelming issues that tends to cloud my opinion of all public spaces: The restroom.

I'm here to tell you...EVERY. SINGLE. RESTROOM. WAS. CLEAN.

We went to public restrooms in a large food court, at a professional baseball game, in a concert venue, in restaurants, and even one in a little dive bar only locals go to:  EVERY SINGLE ONE WAS SUPER CLEAN!  

Not just acceptable...no no. I'm talking about CLEAN.  The one at the baseball game even smelled like FRIED CHICKEN.  WHAT???????????????

I didn't see any paper products on the floor, there were no unflushed toilets, and everything was shiny and nice.

(On a side note...Indiana still remains the state with the GROSSEST public restrooms. What's the deal, Indiana?)

Every public restroom I go into from now on is going to be judged by this experience.  It wasn't one location, it was all of them, and all of them were fresh, good smelling, and clean.  AND THAT, my friends, is the biggest reason why I want to move to Middle Tennessee!

Sarah goes to a concert. None of this should surprise anyone.

 

Good morning!  

So last week Hubby and I took some time off, rented a car (because the Mighty Cube and the Less-than-Mighty Scion weren't going to make this trip) and drove to Nashville to see John Mellencamp at the Ryman.

That's right. Sarah went to another concert.

Before I get to that, I have to share this video:

Sarah's drive in Indiana

Just click on that and enjoy me filming what looked like the end of days...and which Hubby set to a little Metallica...which didn't help. LOL

Anyway, okay so we went to this concert at the Ryman, the holy high church of music.  Or something like that.

This is from the balcony. And yes, those are wooden church pews.


I've never been to the Ryman for a concert, but the rest of the family has been and all of them rave about the coolness of the place.  

I get it, historical. Great acoustics.  "All the talent that's tread these boards."  

Let's look at this from the viewpoint of an upper middle aged woman with advanced arthritis in her feet and knees.  The stairs are a BEAST.  I'm not even kidding. We walked up the stairs to get in the line for the merch booth. And those stairs are STEEP. Like break your knees steep!

So up the stairs we went and whilst hubby was in the merch line, I bought two bottles of water. Now, here's a fun fact about John Mellencamp and his concerts:  He does NOT allow bottle caps in the venue.  so if you buy a bottle of water or soda, the person selling you the beverage has to remove the cap.  now, I was prepared for this because we'd seen Mellencamp in Milwaukee a couple years ago (when a fist fight broke out behind our seats and I got a rum and coke dumped on me.) but the woman at the Ryman was gob smacked about it.  We had a lovely conversation as she removed the caps from our water bottles.

No bottle caps for you!

Now loaded with uncapped water bottles, I go back down the stairs, painfully, and we head to our seats. Since the seats are all wooden church pews, not the padded comfy ones churches have now with the wider seat base and padded backs, nay nay:  These were narrow, hard-core, old-time church pews and you best pay attention: anyway, where was I?  Oh right, since these were narrow wooden pews, there is a specific way in and out of your seats. We were on the end, because Hubby loves me and knows I have to be on an end.  But the downside to that was that anyone in the middle might need to climb over us to get out. That's fine, most of the time. I mean, once the concert for which you purchased tickets begins, you're going to pretty much stay in your seat and LISTEN TO THE MUSIC, right?

Apparently not for the delightful trio I'm going to call "Drunk girl 1, Drunk girl 2, and drunkest guy in the building."  And OF COURSE THEY SAT NEXT TO US.  We all know it's not a concert unless Sarah is seated within spilling distance of the drunkest person in the room.

 Okay, so DG1 was already in place when we got there.  Great. She's on the other end of the pew. No biggie. And I honestly thought-believed-hoped that would be it.  Just the one girl.  But then, as the lights started to go down, DG2 showed up. And instead of climbing over her friend, she climbed over us.  Well, okay, we'll let that one pass. I mean, our seats were closer to the door, so it's fine, the first time.  But she'd certainly opt to crawl over her friend later. Right?

And then, at some point during the first song, when it's good and properly dark in our rows, DGITB (drunkest guy in the building) shows up.  And did he crawl over his friends?  Of course not!  Nope, he crawled over the two of us. Now, Hubby was standing.  But I was still sore from going up and down those stairs so, since Mellencamp wasn't playing "Jack and Diane" I was sitting.  But, in accordance with the time-honored rules of pew sitting, I turned to my right so DGITB could ease past me.

And he was oh so close...except not.  Because remember, he's the DGITB.  So of course, he stumbled against my knees and tromped on my arthritic big toe.  Good times.

As the happy time Trio settled themselves in their spaces, Hubby sat and I asked him, "How many times will DGITB have to get over us to get out?"  

"0," says Hubby.

"2," says I, rubbing my big toe.

The correct answer: 2.  The first time, and bear in mind, they are sitting NEXT TO A FRIEND on the other end of the pew...and could easily crawl over her, was weird.  First DG1 crawled over, and then DGITB.  They walked literally three feet ahead of our seats to stand in the aisle and whoo hoo for about four minutes.  Then they came back and this time, DGITB tried to stride complete over me.  

I think we all know that didn't go well.  

He crashed into my knee and tromped on my arthritic toe...again.

DG1 was behind him this time and she leaned in a yelled "Sorry, I've never seen him up close!"

Yeah, I got news for you, honey. You still haven't.  Three feet closer from where we were did NOT constitute "Up close."

At this point in the concert, Hubby's water bottle is empty. He leaves the auditorium to see if he can find a bubbler (water fountain, whatever) to refill (because, you know, the environment). While he's out, I get a case of the nervous knee. Now, anyone who's sat in a movie or a play with me will know what's happening here. I have these moments where I bounce one knee aggressively for several minutes.  Most people can't stand it, which is why I often spend time at movies and plays standing in the back or in the doorway.  Such was my problem at the concert. Since hubby wasn't around to annoy and DG1 and 2 and DGITB were all whoo hooing to another song, I bounced away.

But I forgot one big thing.

There was no bottle cap on my water bottle.

And the water bottle was on my bouncy knee.

That's right, friends...this time the drink that got dumped on me...was MINE!

So now I have a bouncy knee, a sore toe, and wet pants.

Which I have to explain to hubby when he returned.  He enjoyed that.

Oh and no, he didn't find a bubbler, so I gave him what was left in my bottle of water.  You know, I was all refreshed and crap after dumping half of it on myself.

So we're back to enjoying the concert and Mr. Mellencamp takes a moment to pause and tell us a tragic story about an encounter he had with a homeless person in Oregon.  Here's how that went:

Mellencamp:  Story, story.

DG2: AWW!

Mellencamp: Story, story.

DG2: AWW! (louder)

Mellencamp: Story, story.

DG2: AWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!

Mellencamp: Emotional point of the story.

DG2: ....

Guess she blew out her AWWWS too soon.  What is that; "premature awwjectulation?"

Back to the concert, cuz we aren't even close to done.

Now the Happy Time Trio decide it's time to leave the pew again. And did they leave via the on which they were sitting?  OH NO THEY DID NOT!  Holding hands this time (for balance, most likely) they dragged themselves past us (I opted to stand this time to try and save what was left of my knees and feet). I don't know where they went, but about then minutes later they returned, again, holding hands, and again shoving past us in the narrow pew spaces.

Yep, I was done. I needed to get out of the place and since he'd played "Jack and Diane" and "Scarecrow" I was good to miss a few other things. Like a cut from his new album. Don't really care for the new stuff.  LOL

So I head out to the restrooms (more on TN restrooms in my next 5 for Friday) and upon returning to the theater, I opted to stand in the back.  And that's where I found myself next to "Indian guy with heavy accent who either doesn't know he's got an accent or can't hear the concert going on around him as he's trying to start a full-on conversation with me."

"It's better here," he says.

"Yep." Says I.

Mellencamp starts in on "Gloria," which is an awesome concert tune and I wanted to sing along.

"They don't want you standing in the aisles," says he.

"Nope." Says I.

"My friends, they tell me to stay in the seat..."

"G-L-O!" Sings I (with the crowd).

"But I like to stand and be..."

"R-IIIIIIIIIIIIII" sings I (with the crowd).

"Back here where it's better."  

I mean...dude, read the room!

"G L O R I A!"  Howl I along with the other concert goers. Except the guy next to me.  Who seems to want to talk more.

So, I go back to the pew.  And the rest of the concert is perfectly fine and lovely and fun.  By the time we got out of the Ryman my pants were dry and Hubby was a happy guy.

And that's my trip to the Ryman to see John Mellencamp.

The Coronation from a (sassy) Colonist's viewpoint

 

The summer just before I turned 14, I got up at the super crack of dawn to watch a wedding on my parents' 19 inch Hitachi color TV.  My 2 boy cousins and my brother and I gathered around that wheezy beast of a television to watch Prince Charles and Lady Diana get married.  we got up early to watch it live, napped through the first rebroadcast, and then were awake again to watch the recap later in the day.  

It was a magnificent moment in the life of this little Midwestern girl, who, until the moment of that wedding, thought everything was like Wisconsin, America, and the President could be anyone, even a peanut farmer from Georgia.  Maybe even me, if I got better at math, like my parents told me.

Then I watched as people with interesting accents got married in a massive church and a lady, hardly more than 5 years older than I was, went from a regular person to a princess.

I was, on a certain level, deep in my all-American brain, hooked on the royal family.

Since 1981, through scandals and divorces and all manner of nonsense, the British Royal family became, and again I can only speak for myself, less of a wondrous mystery and ideal, and more of a head scratcher. I watched Andrew and Fergie get married, and then not married. I watched the travails of Princess Diana and the treachery of Prince Charles (who by the time I was in my early twenties was no longer a Prince Charming, but more like an elephant eared dummy who would rather sleep with a leathery hag than the beautiful princess to whom he was married.  Oh yeah, I had some serious thoughts and opinions about Camilla.)

Like most Americans, while the Royal family has become something of a quasi-soap opera/freak show, I still held Queen Elizabeth II with some affection and respect.  Even more so when I got completely and hopelessly hooked on Netflix's "The Crown."  Who doesn't love that show?  I mean, besides a number of British celebrities, most of whom are probably salty because they weren't invited to be IN "The Crown."

Sorry Dame Judi Dench, no "CROWN" for you!

And my opinion of Charles, as we went through the death of Diana and his subsequent marriage to Camilla, continued to slide.

Oh I know...like we Americans have so much smarter leaders...

I'll admit it. I've watched every documentary I can get my hands on regarding THE ABDICATION, every movie and TV series dealing with QE II, and really anything with a British accent.  Thusly, when yesterday's coronation of King Charles III popped up on my telly schedule, I was ABSOLUTELY getting up to watch that thing live.  Only this time, I was going to do it properly: On my 60 inch flat screen with stereo sound.  Yeah, "Zadok the Priest" really booms out of those subwoofers, let me tell you!

Anyway, what I'm getting to is I got up early, although not early enough because I'm old and I know about replays and recaps now, to watch the Coronation and I have a handful of thoughts.

1)  Bishop of Canterbery says WHAT?

I was watching this Bishop guy talk and honestly, I wasn't listening all that closely because, well, i was looking at this woman:

I mean...wowser. Look at her!

Anyway, when I snapped my attention back to the Archbishop, it was actually a voiceover from a British commentator who said, "And there the Bishop compared the crown of King Charles to that of to the crown of thorns of Christ."

Say what now?  The crown of Christ...the crown of thorns. Even most non Christians have a working knowledge of the suffering and death of Christ and how the Romans beat a literal crown of sharp thorns into his skull.  Is my lord archbishop REALLY comparing that to the gold encrusted headpiece Charlie boy had to wear for like half an hour and NOT ONE PERSON took a smack at him?

Well, this woman looks like she might:

I looked up the Archbishops sermon. Here's an excerpt.

And the weight of the task given today, Your Majesties, is only bearable by the Spirit of God, who gives us the strength to give our lives to others.

This is promised by Jesus who put aside all privilege, because, as the first reading tells us, God will give all things for our sake, even His own life. 

His throne was a Cross. His crown was made of thorns. His regalia were the wounds that pierced his body.

okay, and Charles' is a crown of gold and velvet and his regalia is a crap ton of gold swords and rings and a gold cloak.  So, you know, same thing, EXACTLY, as Jesus. You betcha.

2) Don't they have anything, you know, NOT USED?

We get it. American history doesn't begin to hold a candle to the reach of other countries.  And we also get it, the Brits do love their museum pieces. I mean, take a look at their new, fresh faced king and queen:

"Camilla, dearest, I'm peckish. Is it time for supper?"
"Almost. It's 2PM."
"Oh lovely. I hope we'll be done with this in time for the early bird special at the Royal Diner."

 My question is, could there have been something, literally ANYTHING that wasn't pre-18th century?  I mean, the robe they put charles in, that stiff gold thing, that predated the Magna Charta!  Here in the States, we got NOTHIN' close to that age. I mean, Our last couple presidents have been close...

the coronation chair is 700 years old.  

They said there was something called the Stone of Destiny...from Scotland.

I was ready for that to be all studded out with glitz and whatnot like everything else.  Nope: 

 But what can you expect?  That's been around for British coronations since 1296.  And prior to that, for Scottish coronations.  Americans, well the best we can do is a broken bell stuck in Philadelphia.

King Edwards chair and the stone of destiny.  Not the way I'd decorate, but whatever.

3) Did they just build what I think they did?

okay, having watched "The Crown" I was curious as to whether or not we, the great unwashed, would get to see the anointing of Charles. You know the part where this guy who's been waiting to get this job since birth finally gets it, but first has to come in touch with the divine and transform into something other than what he is?

Spoiler...we didn't get to see it.

What we DID get to see what the King was undressed in front of everyone, right down to the white night sure ala early Ichabod Crane and then they built what looking like a very fancy OUTHOUSE around him.

Okay, I get this is a serious ceremony and it's all religious and also mythical. But I'm telling you, this looked for all the world like the King had to potty and the guys in red were super prepared for just that thing.

I looked back at pictures of QE II's coronation. She got to wear a nice, well fitted dress.  Granted, she was 50 years younger than Charles is now.  But still. The best they could do was that night shirt?  Oh, wait, was it some holy night sure of St. Felix or something?

Fun fact, Camilla also got annointed. But right out there in public. No potty time for her. Once again...the woman has to hold it while all the world's a toilet for the guys.

4) Screw Elizabeth, it's the wild west here now.

So, some of you have been following the whole Harry/Megan drama. Why the Royals haven't learned that getting married to a divorced American always results in exile to another country is beyond me. Anyway, Harry went to his pop's coronation. Megs did not.  And Harry was a good boy and didn't wear the big fur robe with all the bows.

Unlike Uncle Andrew. 

Ah yes, if you're really following the Royals, you know that Prince Andrew is a big old disgrace on a level that made his divorce from Fergie look like really excellent  behavior. Such was his level of disgrace that QE II banned him from wearing any uniforms or fur robes.  And Charles also mentioned to his brother that he really should stay out of the fur robes because he's a complete menace and really should be in jail.  (Andrew, not Charles.)

Yeah, so there the disgraceful prince is...on the left, and WHAT IS HE WEARING?  A BIG OLD ROBE WITH BOWS ON IT!

So, King Charles should probably be yelling at his brother. Except here's the thing:  Charles spent a big part of the day stomping on his recently deceased mother's wishes too.

Oh yeah, did you notice?  Camilla, the woman who was NEVER supposed to be queen, got into QE II's good books right there at the end and Elizabeth said she could be named QUEEN CONSORT.  You know, like Prince Phillip languished his whole life as a Prince Consort. Never crowned. Never given that level of deference and respect. And that dude WORKED for it all the time!

But no. Camilla, she didn't produce an heir, she didn't do heavy royal work until she was old. She didn't do ANYTHING other than cheat on her husband and she gets "Queen Consort" from the queen.

And then the queen dies and the first thing her big eared, namby pamby of his royal dorkiness does is NAME HER QUEEN.  Not consort. Nope. QUEEN.

So, she gets oiled and crowned and now she's HER MAJESTY.

Somewhere Phillip is losing his crap all over again.

5) Best part of it all, besides the horses?

okay I loved all the horses and the marching.  Seriously.  That was cool. But do you know what the very best part of the whole coronation was?  

No, not betting whether or not those two AARP members were going to make it down the aisle with their heavy headgear.  And no, not hoping against hope that this chick:

would please GOD cleave someone in half.  No, the best part of the coronation was this kid:

Four year old Prince Louis.  I know he's the second son and the third kid and way far down the charts, but I love him and he needs to be at EVERY SINGLE royal event forever.  I can't wait to see him as he grows up into an irreverent teen.  Now, the good news is Kate is a level headed Normal, so he's got a shot of not becoming a freak show or marrying a basket case American Actress who can't get with the program and just be a princess. Time will tell. In the meantime, his facial expressions are EVERYTHING!

So that's it. Those are my little thoughts on the coronation. Given Charles' advanced age, and how grossly swollen his hands looked yesterday, I'm guessing we'll have another one of these in a couple years. Can't wait to see what William does with that million year old robe!

These are the thoughts in Sarah's head.

 

Good morning!

It's been a minute since I've done a proper blog about the ridiculousness of life and there's a good reason:  my life just stopped being ridiculous.

Skippy and Hubby have been picking up their meds at the pharmacy on their own, so I'm not standing in line for that. In fact, I'm not standing in line for much anymore.  So...no great stories about how insane people are standing in line.  That was what, like 70% of my blogs?

I started a job here at Stuff, Recovered, back in October, and I work part time at the moment so it's taken me a few months to get into the groove of the quirks of this company and the rest of the building we're in.  And oh yes, there are quirks.

I'm not going to get into all the quirks, but it's been interesting, because our office suite is at the end of the line of a number of townhouse type office suites.  I see all the cars come in and out. I see everyone go get their mail. And, best of all, I know exactly who is getting lunch at the Cousins' subs across the street.

More about that later.

Today I wanted to share a handful of random thoughts I've had in the last half hour.  No explanation.  Just the thoughts.  Draw your own conclusions.

In the absence of actual job stress, I'm pretty sure I create my own, just for fun.

This is the tenth time I've picked up my coffee cup to drink, and it's empty. What do I think, Jesus has somehow put more coffee in the cup when I wasn't looking? Or maybe Jesus is watching me, trying to get coffee out of an empty cup, and He's up there, in heaven, drinking coffee from a full cup, and laughing at me.

Do I really like coffee, or do I like coffee memes so much I drink something every single day that I don't actually like?  

I just found out today that the people outside my office window can see me staring at them. Will this stop me from staring?  

Do the people in my building really like Cousins Subs or do they use it as a excuse to walk past my window and taunt me with their food while I eat my sad home made sandwich?

I just took another drink from my empty cup.  Seriously.

There. That's my last half hour of work.  So...enjoy that...