I'm working with a group of six and seven year olds again this week. Each day they find a treasure trunk with a clue in it to the story that they’ll tell at the end of the week. Yesterday I filled it with packing peanuts and a tiny astronaut magnet. Before I open it, I tell them to use their imagination when they see what’s in the truck. I also tell them I’m going to open the trunk very quickly and then shut it so we can talk about what they saw. I make sure everyone understands and then I open the trunk.
There are “Ooohs.” There are “Aaahs.” I shut the trunk. I ask them, “What do you see?” I expect them to say that they see the Milky Way or ice balls or something space related. But they don’t. Because they’re six and seven and “almost eight.” And they think I’m crazy. “PACKING PEANUTS!” they shout in unison. “Well, yes,” I say. “They are packing peanuts. But what could they be? Use your imagination.” But before they can guess one boy raises his hand and earnestly tells me, face dead serious as he is backing away from the trunk. “I’m allergic to peanuts. So, I probably shouldn’t touch them.” I should have quit the day right there and then and gone on home because you’re supposed to leave the stage after the punch line. I mean, who keeps talking after the mic drop?
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If I had not found out that my Kenyan Grandmother had died, I would not have spent the day going through the boxes of old slides my uncle took in Kenya before I was born. And, if had I not been looking through those boxes of old slides, I would not have found, among other things, a picture of my mother - milking a snake!
Making her - again - the most interesting person I know. THIS GUY!!! DARIUS RUCKER!!! If you didn't read my stalkery Wednesday post and have no idea what I'm talking about, read it here. If you did read it, Darius Rucker - who happens to be the nicest guy around - is/was the Famous Musician who sat with his back to the UNPAINTED window frame with the used-to-be-a-driveway-but-now-is-a-dirty-mess visible in the distance through the dirty window and a few dog hair dust balls rolled about the room. And Darius Rucker is the one who posed up against the wall in the dining room, feet against the stupid chair rail that was still lying on the floor, badly painted wall as the background and then shot in Husband’s lovely and shiny new studio, looking great sitting at the mixing desk and at the microphone. And Darius Rucker is the guy who made his way outside down the rocky mosquito ridden yard, past the mulch bags that “no one will see” to stand in the creek-when-it’s-raining for the shot that ultimately became this beautiful cover shot. For those of you not in Nashville or nowhere near a country-centric magazine rack, you can read the article online here at the Nash Country Weekly site. Or look at my blurry shots of the beautiful pictures in the Nash Country Weekly magazine - taken by professional photographer Mark Hill - and marvel at how lovely our yard looks with a Darius Rucker standing in it. And for those of you who are planning to come by and sit where our new best friend, Darius Rucker, sat just to absorb some of his awesomeness, you can't. I'm sitting right there right now and I ain't moving till I'm as awesome as he is. You can, however, stand where he stood in the vocal booth and hope to absorb some of that musical magic. Not sure if musical magic works that way but it's worth a try, right?!
Bring Skittles if you're coming. Our new best friend, Darius Rucker, ate them all. It started with a text message on a Monday. “Hey lady. Looking for a location for a cover photo shoot with Famous Musician... Wondering if we might be able to use your living room and studio?" To which I responded, of course, 'WHAT?!?!YES!!!”
I then turned to Husband and we laughed and laughed and laughed about our fixer upper being used for something that would be in a magazine that people would see. Not to mention the thought of having Famous Musician wandering about our unfinished house. Husband mentioned the time our friend’s daughter met a very famous Broadway director at a party and kept doing random walk-bys while singing under her breath in the hopes of being discovered. He made me promise to not mention his songs or sing or even talk to Famous Musician at all. I might have had my fingers crossed when I agreed that would be a bad idea. I mean, I am me. What he should have had me promise was to not show Famous Musician the picture of my womb. That was far more likely to have happened… Anyway, photo shoot set, we panic giggled all through the planning. Well, I did. Husband pretended he was not too bothered about having Famous Musician in his brand new studio and that said brand new studio possibly featured in print with said Famous Musician. But he was. I could tell. Even when he said that it wouldn’t likely happen and I said it wouldn’t likely happen. Then Famous Musician was called up last minute to play an award show and the shoot was pushed to Saturday. Thankfully, this meant it was after FIL left town, which gave us two days to clean the house from top to bottom without having to push him out of the way. We focused our power cleaning on the living room/den and studio and kitchen because my friend had mentioned using those areas. By the time we were done, those rooms were shiny clean and magazine ready. I did my best with the rooms we hadn't remodeled yet but there's only so much cleaning you can do to a badly painted room framed in baby-shit orange trim. It’s totally like trying to put lipstick on pig. A badly painted dirty somewhat dated pig with occasional wisp’s of dog hair rolling about the room. On the off chance that they would want to take pictures outside in the 95-degree hot as a sauna weather, we set out our outdoor cushions and cleaned up the fire pit area. “What should we do with the four mulch bags?” I had yet to spread about I asked Husband. “Push them on the other side of the wall. No one will see them there.” Yeah, right!!! Just like no one would see the window in our ‘Good Room’ which we call a Good Room as a joke because it's where Tigger the Dog usually sits and drools over chipmunks. And no one will see the dining room where one chair rail is missing. Well, not exactly missing, it’s lying on the floor waiting for us to install it after we get around to painting the very bad paint job that some ass did to get the house sold. And no one would care that the Tigger the Dog poops in the backyard and we don’t pick it up every day because who has the time to battle the ticks and the mosquitos… Yeah, no one would see all that stuff because that was not where they were planning on shooting. BUT THEY DID SEE IT ALL BECAUSE THAT’S EXACTLY WHERE THEY SHOT!!! Every freaking picture was taken in my Pintrest/Martha Stuart nightmare gone wrong. It started in the Good Room where the couch got moved and the dog bed got moved and Famous Musician sat with his back to the UNPAINTED window frame with the used-to-be-a-driveway-but-now-is-a-dirty-mess visible in the distance through the dirty window and a few dog hair dust balls rolled about the room. THEN Famous Musician posed up against the wall in the dining room, feet against the stupid chair rail that was still lying on the floor, badly painted wall as the background. Then they shot in Husband’s studio, which is lovely and shiny and clean and pretty, and Famous Musician looked great sitting at the mixing desk and at the microphone and things were looking up. BUT THEN, they took Famous Musician outside and I watched cringing as he made his way down the rocky mosquito ridden yard, past the mulch bags that “no one will see” to stand in the creek-when-it’s-raining for the shot that ultimately became the cover shot. While the poor photographer stood in the section of vines that TTD poops in, probably in a pile of poop. Throughout the whole thing, I was squirming and bouncing about, totally mortified at the turn of events while still trying look like I wasn’t affected at all by the fact that Famous Musician was in our house, chilling in between shots and mainlining Skittles and possibly about to break his leg in the backyard. Husband, of course, was playing it cool. He chatted with Famous Musician about them having played the same club in Glasgow. Husband even offered him one of his precious Cadbury eggs, which Famous Musician refused because he was singing at the Opry that night. And then they had a whole conversation about how Skittles taste like the colors, not an actual flavor and bonded over this anomaly while his manager and his bodyguard and guitar tech watched and I wiggled and fretted in the kitchen looking more than slightly stalkery. Interview and photo shoot over, he got into the front seat of his very non-descript four-door car, his bodyguard, and guitar roadie in the back and his manager drove them off to the Opry. The end. Well, not quite. Now the magazine comes out and I get to relive the awkward bits all over again. In all, it was a totally fascinating experience. Famous Musician was lovely and approachable and funny. His ‘people’ were lovely and approachable and funny. The photo shoot crew was lovely... yeah, you can see where I’m going with this but they were. We got to see a preview of the magazine this week and our house looks lovely around the edges of Famous Musician beautiful smiling face. Sadly, not one of the pretty studio shots were used but the magazine comes out on Friday so you can see how it all played out and, of course, find out who Famous Musician is... Yup. This is a total tease... |
AuthorMy name is ej. I'm a girl. I say that because with the short hair and the short initials, folks aren't always sure. More brilliant insights to who I am in About me Archives
April 2019
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