I’m a big American Idol fan.  I’ve watched every season.  Even the first one when Ryan had that dorky sidekick host.  Ugh.  I’m so glad they put the kibosh on that.

In spite of all my watching, I’m not a big voter.  Of the hundreds of contestants who’ve made it to the voting stage I’ve only cast votes for two of them: David Archuleta and Taylor Hicks.

A couple of years ago when my dialing fingers were frantically punching Taylor’s number into my keypad I never would have imagined that on February 25th, 2009 I’d be sitting in a shabby studio in downtown Tucson listening to him perform acoustically in an intimate setting.

It was cool.  Uber cool even.

He was incredibly gracious and totally down to earth.  While he maybe wasn’t as effervescent in studio as he was on AI, he was every bit as great a performer.  And, needless to say, I’m every bit as big a fan as I was then.  Maybe more.

How could I not be though?  His voice is unique and soulful.  His mannerisms, quirky and charming.  And when it came time for him to take questions from the audience he totally wowed me by saying that God was his inspiration.  Only he didn’t say it in that gratuitous Hollywood way.  He humbly and sincerely gave God the glory before sheepishly giving nod to Ray Charles for teaching him the crazy dance moves.  Totally endearing don’t you think?

After the performance he even took the time to sign autographs and pose for pictures.  While I waited for my turn I worked hard on composure because I didn’t want to get up there and flail like the amateurs before me.

Watching them I learned a few things not to do.

#1.  Don’t tell him that I voted for him hundreds of times.
#2.  Don’t gush about “respecting his work” and “admiring so many things about him.”
#3.  Don’t overstay my allotted  time and force the handlers to shoosh me along.
#4.  Don’t–under any circumstances–tell him to “keep on keepin’ on man.”  Hello?  1970 calling.

When my turn came around I said a friendly, if not a little too enthusiastic, “hi.”

And then I gave him a copy of his CD and asked him to sign it.

He didn’t even have to ask who he should make it out to (Gram) because I was so well prepared.

We even had a little conversation about Gram and how old she was.

And then he graciously agreed to a photo.

Clearly he’s got his photo persona down because even when Jeff took forever to figure out the logistics of the camera he remained cool and collected.

I, on the other hand, was a tad mortified seeing as how I was inches from his face with his arm around my waist. Waiting.  And waiting.  And waiting a little more.

But then the camera clicked and voila, I’d made it through.

It wasn’t until we were walking away down the street that I wondered if I’d sounded gushy when I said, “It was very nice to meet you.”

I mean, I didn’t really meet him technically.

I more watched him play.  And got an autograph.  And a lengthy photo.

I don’t know.  Maybe I gushed.

Whatever.

I totally have the chance to redeem myself on Saturday when we go see him in Grease.  Not that I could do much gushing from our seats in the nosebleed section.

Sigh.

Did I mention that I’m going to see Taylor Hicks tomorrow?

As in Taylor Hicks of American Idol fame.

Yeah.  That Taylor Hicks.

We go way back.

Either that or I won passes on the radio.  Who am I to split hairs though?

He’s in town starring in the Broadway version of Grease.  Our local radio station scored an acoustic concert with him.  He’s coming to play for me an intimate gathering  before he gets all transformed into Teen Angel.

I’ll be one of maybe twenty-ish guests in attendance.

With so few people in the room he’ll have no choice but to make eye contact with each and every one of us don’t you think?

And when my turn comes I’m going to send him telepathic vibes to give me one of those soul patrol “owwwww’s” he made famous during his stint on AI.

I love it when he does that.

I also hope to get pictures but I’m not sure if they’re going to allow me to take a camera inside the studio.

If so, you all will be the first to know.

Keep your fingers crossed.

This week I learned that if a federal investigator calls your house wanting to set up an appointment to meet, you shouldn’t panic or jump to conclusions.

His call doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with your taxes.

Or the illegal aliens you hired to build the casita out back.

Just kidding about the illegals.  We don’t even have a casita.  Honest.

Back to my life lesson though.

I learned that federal investigators are the ones who, well, investigate people who have security clearances.

I also learned that federal investigators are very interested in what an ex-wife has to say with regard to the ivestigatee.

Lucky for the investigatee in question this ex-wife’s child support is up to date.

If you know me at all though you know full well that I couldn’t let this opportunity pass without having a little fun with aforementioned investigatee.

Me (on the phone to investigatee): Hi.
Investigatee: Hi.  What’s up?
Me: Hey listen, I’ve got that federal investigator here and I have a question for you.
Investigatee: Okay.  I’ve probably got an answer.
Me: I’ve tried and tried but for the life of me I cannot remember the name of that buddy of yours.  Was it Sergei Varishnakof?  Something like that wasn’t it?
Investigatee: What?  What are you talking about?
Me: You know.  That friend of yours.  Sergei wasn’t it?  The one who worked with the KGB?
Investigatee: (crickets chirping)
Me:  Hello?  Um….hello?
(Telltale clicking sound on the receiver.)
Me again: Oh come on.  I kid.  You know it was funny.
Operator: If you’d like to make a call, please hang up and try again.  If you need help…

One last thing I learned: Investigatees aren’t easily amused.

As usual, Jo-Lynne {Musings of a Housewife} is sponsoring the What I Learned This Week carnival.  Click your way over to link up and/or peruse a plethora of knowledge nuggets.

Today will go down in history as the day we wore out our welcome at church.

Didn’t think it was possible to wear out one’s welcome at church didya?

Apparently you haven’t met Cassidy.

Little backstory here: A couple of weeks ago I read a post written by the fabulous Michelle at Scribbit.  In it, she debated the merits of the word ‘stupid’ being labeled a “bad word” in households across America.

We happen to be one of those households, though I do agree with Michelle that there most certainly is a time and place for the use of the word.  The reason we’ve outlawed its use in our home is mostly due to Cassidy, and her inability to understand the use of the word in context.  Cassidy, for those of you who don’t know, has Down syndrome and among the issues she struggles with is determining what is and is not socially appropriate.  While I don’t see anything wrong with remarking that something is stupid, calling someone stupid is something else entirely.  And since Cassidy has a tendency to pick up bad habits, we’ve just found it easier to avoid saying ‘stupid’ at all.  I’ve also been sure to address it as a “mean word” when she does hear it spoken on television or on the playground.

So.  Back to church.

Guess what word worked its way into our Pastor’s sermon this fine Sunday morning?

Uh-huh.  Stupid.

Not once, but twice did he say it.  And it wasn’t as though he just let it slip.  He used it (twice) for emphasis.  For effect.  To get our attention.

It worked.

The first time he said it Cassidy drew in a sharp breath before leaning in to tell me that “he said a bad word.”

The second time, her eyes grew wide with disbelief, shocked that the pastor, of all people, would have the nerve to say ‘stupid’ right there in God’s living room.  This time, she turned to Jeff, gasping and throwing her hand up over her own mouth in shock.  Jeff whispered to her, telling her that he’d have a talk with the pastor after church.  Cassidy seemed satisfied with that.

The rest of the sermon was uneventful.

It’s really a shame that I can’t say the same for communion.

We filed up to the altar as we always do: Cassidy sandwiched between Jeff and I.  I accepted my wafer and wine and made my way back to the pew, completely unaware of what went on in my wake.

Apparently, when it came time for the Pastor to give Cassidy a blessing, he bent down to make the sign of the cross on her forehead as he always does.  Never one to ignore the opportunity for reprimand, Cassidy grabbed the Pastor’s arms and pulled him down to her level.  Seeing as how his hands were full trying to maintain balance of the body and the blood he was left pretty much at Cassidy’s whim.  And Jeff, thinking that she was trying to give him a hug, didn’t react immediately.

He wishes he had though.  Boy does he.

Because Cassidy, let me assure you, was not trying to get a hug from our Pastor.

Once she had his attention she said to him, in a voice as stern as she could muster, “don’t you ever say stupid again.”

Of course, as soon as he realized what was happening Jeff took control of the situation.

Assuming, that is, that a silent prayer for immediate invisibility can be considered taking control of the situation.

God wasn’t in a prayer granting mood apparently because Jeff was anything but invisible.  Rather, he turned a lovely shade of cherry red.

Based on our Pastor’s bewildered look we’re guessing he either didn’t hear or didn’t understand Cassidy’s sharp scolding.

And that, my friends, is worthy of thanksgiving.

I’m late for the Things I Learned carnival.  Mostly because by Monday night I couldn’t pinpoint anything of interest that I’d learned this week.

That changed today my friends.

Today I learned that I’ve learned a lot in my life.  Granted, it’s knowledge I’ve acquired over a lifetime, but only today did I realize how far I’ve come.

I picked my car up from the shop this afternoon.  And then I met Jeff at the rental car place.  When I got there he was inside turning over the cigarette smoke reekin’ piece o youknowwhat Dodge caravan that they’d so graciously charged us out the yingyang for.  Upon exiting the building I stopped to admire the newly restored front bumper on my beloved (though formerly under appreciated) Odyssey.  That unblemished bumper?  It’s a thing of beauty.  It made my heart skip.

Until.

Until my eyes landed on a sizable new dent in the front passenger door.

Of course I could barely contain my dialing fingers as they punched in the body shop’s number on my cell phone keypad.  The owner told me to come right back so he could have a look.

Duh.

So back we went to the shop where we were greeted by a defensive shop owner and an even more defensive secretary.  Why was the secretary defensive you ask?  Because she’d been the one who checked me in two days before.  Together we’d walked around my car and had identified all the little door dings and chips in the paint.  She’d not made any notation of the big ‘ol dent in the door because she hadn’t seen it.

Neither had I.

Whether or not it was there is the question of the hour.

Not surprisingly the shop owners deny any responsibility.  Not surprisingly I disagree.

Here’s where the learning curve comes in.

Not so long ago my combative self would have taken over.  I’d likely have spouted off without thinking and threatened a lawsuit or something.  Because I’m nothing if not level-headed.

I surprised myself this time though.  There were no threats.  No harsh words spoken in haste.  Nothing that would have embarrassed me once my blood returned to its normal 98.6.

Jeff and I came to an agreement with the owner.  They’re going to send a mobile dent repair guy out to our house tomorrow.  He’s going to attempt a repair.  The shop is going to split the cost with us.

Not exactly what I’d hoped for.  It saves us the hassle and heartache of a lengthy battle though, so we agreed.

This probably seems like a no brainer to many of you.  And me too, now.  There was a time though when I would have vehemently denied any compromise and agreed only to what I believed was just.

But I’m tired of fighting.

So I sorta let them win.  And only then did I realize that I win too.

Wish I’d learned this long ago.

Head over to Musings of a Housewife for more life lessons.

A few weeks ago I wrote a post in which I asked for hostess gift ideas.  I’m sure that the fact that it received in excess of two hundred comments had nothing at all to do with the giveaway I offered.  Coerced or not though I did receive a ton of great ideas – ideas that I’m passing on to you now.  Here are my top ten:

10.  Something smelly.  In a good way of course.  A neutral (think clean cotton) reed diffuser from Pier One would be useful to just about anyone.  Candles are a popular choice, though maybe a tad dull and overdone.  You know what I love?  A basil plant.  Or oregano: fragrant and useful!

9.  Shop online.  My friends swear by these and these.

8.  Mixes in a jar.  You know the ones.  You layer the dry ingredients for brownies, or chocolate chip cookies in a cute jar.  Add a decorative ribbon along with a bamboo spoon and the recipe.  You’re good to go!

7.  Gift cards.  For a housewarming party Lowe’s or Home Depot cards are always appreciated.  Slip ‘em in an envelope and then attach it with pretty ribbon to a hammer.  For a dinner party perhaps a Whole Foods gift card along with some organic spaghetti sauce would be appropriate.

6.  Alcohol.  A bottle of wine is a fairly traditional hostess gift.  Why not put a twist on that and give two martini glasses with a fun new recipe and a bottle of liquor that the recipe calls for.  Or a set of shot glasses and some cute cocktail napkins.

5. Kitchen towels.  When my son was born his Godmother gave us a baby blanket that we’d registered for.  The fact that she’d had his name embroidered on the blanket, though, added a thoughtful, personal touch.  The same thing could be done with kitchen towels.  Only instead of embroidering on a whole name you’d just do the monogram.  Who wouldn’t love that?

4. Baked goods.  Miniature loaves of pumpkin or poppy seed bread are popular choices.  If you want to add some extra love place the baked goods into a new set of loaf pans (or muffin tin as the case may be) and wrap it up with colored cellophane and polka-dotted ribbon.

3.  Gift baskets.  There are a ton of themes you could base this on: gourmet cooking, breakfast, movie night, pampering, wine lover.  Kelly R. suggested a unique spin on the standard gift basket: including only items that start with the same letter as the host’s last name.  For the Carter family, for instance, you might give chocolates, cheese, crackers, and Cabernet.  Fun, yes?

2.  Stationary.  A personalized stamp like this one together with a box of blank stationary (readily available at craft stores nationwide), a book of stamps, and a nice pen  = a gift I’d love to get.

1.  Reusable shopping bags.  Everybody shops, right?  Why not give a gift that gives back?  And I’m not talking about the flimsy canvas bags with the grocery store logo emblazoned across them.  Splurge for some cute ones like these or these.

Surely one of these suggestions is perfect for the next party you’re attending.  And if you’re looking for gifts specific for the season, check out these 10 Holiday Hostess Gift Ideas!

My schedule is off this week.

I’m not  a girl who adjusts well.

Doctors appointments in the middle of my day and cars in the body shop do not make me happy.

Plus, I accidentally poured too much flaxseed meal into my steel cut oats this morning and now they taste grainy.

I’m choosing the bright side today though.

There was a bag in the trash can this morning when I woke up.

Cassidy’s thermos was clean and ready to be filled with yet another day’s lunch.

Nobody grumbled about the breakfast menu: oatmeal.

Jayce woke up on the right side of the crib and happily snuggled with his sappy mom for a few minutes.

And he hadn’t wet through his diaper.  Score!

There was just enough of the expensive orange juice left for me to get my vitamin down.

Jeff was able to get out of business travel so that we can pick up my car tomorrow.

I love my car.

The two sore throats in our house never developed into full fledged anything.

I only have three loads of laundry left over from yesterday.

My hair hasn’t greased up so much as to prevent me from squeezing one more showerless day out of it.

Did that gross you out?

Sorry.

Suffice it to say that so far my day has it’s good points.

Hope yours will too.

At the last minute Jeff and I decided to add a movie (as in at the theater) to our Valentines date night dinner.  Normally we’re not so much movie theater peeps because we prefer the ability to pause the movie at a whim for a quick discussion, a bathroom break, or a snack run.  But since there happened to be a dollar theater (which is somewhat misleading because it’s really a two dollar theater) really close to the restaurant, and we were left with nothing better to do, we caved.  We saw Marley and Me.  Perhaps not the best choice seeing as how Jeff had just hit a dog on Friday.

You live, you learn.

Because we’re not typically theater people we’ve been oblivious to the unpleasant changes that have taken place in the movie going experience.  Namely, the fellow movie goers.

Ladies and gentlemen I present into evidence the following for your consideration.

Exhibit A : A woman and her daughter entered the theater after we’d been seated.  Daughter didn’t want to sit where mom sat so she chose a seat about three rows up from Mom.  The distance between them didn’t keep them from engaging in a thorough discussion before the movie started though.  Part of it, about the movie (which they apparently had previously seen).

Mom to Daughter: Can you see from where you are?
Daughter to Mom: Yes, I’m fine.
Mom to Daughter: Do you need more popcorn?
Daughter to Mom: Not yet.
Mom to Daughter: What’s your favorite part of this movie?
Daughter to Mom: I’m not sure.  But it’s certainly not when the dog dies.

Yes, that discussion did ensue in the midst of a theater full of patrons who, I’m guessing, could have done without the spoilage of the film’s ending.

I suppose suspense is overrated anyhow.

Exhibit B: Enter a plus, plus-sized woman and her stick of a husband.  They chose an empty row and made their way about 1/2 way in before selecting a seat.  Once she had confiscated the popcorn and he’d properly scavenged for her scraps she made a production of taking off her coat and putting it into the empty seat next to her.  Then she tossed her purse into the empty seat next to the seat now occupied by her coat.  Whenever the door would open and more patrons would enter the theater she would loudly proclaim that the only thing she didn’t like about the theater was the fact that a stranger might sit next to her.  She didn’t want anybody sitting next to her.  She needed her space.  She preferred the whole row to herself really.

Clearly.

Once the lights went down our fellow movie goers settled in and their behavior improved greatly.  With the exception of the whiny toddler behind me who insisted on pulling my hair at random intervals, the remainder of our time spent in the theater was uneventful.

Of course, the display we were witness to in the elevator on the way to the parking garage served as the cherry to top the evening off.

Stick hubby and his wife shared our elevator.  Luckily we only had a four floor decent because when that woman reached up and pulled that man’s face into hers and began kissing him right there in our midst I thought I was going to die right there.  It  took every ounce of restraint I had to contain myself until that oh so welcome ding signified our arrival on the lower level of the garage.

I’m wondering though.  Where do these people come from?  Seriously.  There must be some mutant gene out there running rampant among the dollar theater patrons.

Or maybe it’s something they picked up from the seats in the theater.  Have you heard what researchers have found on those things?  If you haven’t heard, I’ll spare you the gory details.

Suffice it to say though that lest you want dollar theater-esque spawn to befall your happy home perhaps the safest and cleanliest place to enjoy a movie is from the comfort of your own couch.

And as an added bonus the whole row will be yours for the keeping.  Promise.

In case you’re a tad slow on the uptake and have yet to find the perfect gift for your sweetie, I thought I’d give you some food for thought.  Here are the 5 ways in which I plan to spoil my Valentine today.

5. Not give him a word of crud about the damages done to my van yesterday when he hit a dog on his way home from dropping the kids at school.  Damages in excess of $800 btw.  Talk about restraint.

4. Let him choose tonight’s date night restaurant.  The fact that he’s sure to pick my personal favorite has nothing to do with my selfless gesture.

3. Pretend that the facial he sent me off for yesterday was absolutely blissful.  I won’t even mention that the aesthetician used equate brand (a la Wal-Mart) body lotion on. my. face.

2. Not attempt to pour myself into the “outfit” that I gave him for our first V Day together.  I fear the changes that have occurred since then would effectively scare even Cupid away.

1. Take the funky diaper I just changed all the way out to the bin instead of tossing it into the garage where it would usually ferment for hours before he finds it and carries it at arm’s length to the receptacle.

I know what you’re thinking.  I’m sorry though.  I’m already taken.

Happy Heart Day to you and yours.

***Updated to announce that Lindsay K. (#17) is the lucky winner of the cash card!  Spend it wisely!***

Guess who has been named a finalist in the Mabel’s Labels BlogHer ’09 Contest?!  Yep, you guessed it: me!  And in an effort to get a few votes cast my way I thought I’d sponsor a little giveaway.  Or a big giveaway…

Everybody loves cash right?  Unfortunately sending cash through the mail can be a bit tricky.  Credit cards are the next best thing though, yes?  I hope you’ll agree because that’s what I’m giving away.  Fifty smackaroos.  FIFTY!  If you’re the lucky winner I will send a fifty dollar cash card, or a fifty dollar gift card to the retailer of your choice, (as long as I can purchase said gift card online) right to your door.

To enter:

1. Click HERE to vote for my essay. Simple as that.  Vote only one time and make sure that it’s for Darcie @ Such The Spot.

2.  Once you’ve voted for me come back here and let me know you did so by leaving me a comment.

3.  If you’d like to gain an extra entry, Twitter or post about this giveaway on your blog.  And then let me know in the comments that you did so.  You’ll get one extra entry for each method you use to spread the word.  Just leave another comment telling me you tweeted, or posted a shout out on your blog.

4.  I will randomly choose a winner on Tuesday, Feb. 24th.  You have until Friday, Feb. 20th at noon EST to vote/enter.

Good luck (to you and me!).