random sad thoughts and questions today

Special work presentation today of all the movies slated to be released this year. One of the trailers we watched was for Cloud Atlas. It looks beautiful and intriguing and confusing and trippy. And, a particular scene had tears welling in my eyes.

Not because it was sad or particularly emotional...Halle Berry was reading someone else's letters, reading someone else's story - very 'killing me softly'...and as I watched, I wondered who will tell my story? Who will speak of me? Who will share my stories? Who will I share my stories with? This made me incredibly sad and pained.

I thought about Father's Day, all of us sitting at my sister's house that afternoon. My dad asked us to share our memories of him. So, we did. My sister told some of her favorite Dad stories - busting her when she was on phone restriction; the one with all the report cards under the mattress; the one where she lost me in Sears. Then, my nephew chimed in with 'Mom, tell the one about your watch!' We all laughed - my niece and nephew have heard all of these stories over and over and over again. Enough to obviously have a favorite one to hear.

Who will tell my espadrille story? Who will remember the songs from the pageants? Who will know that Grandma made lemon meringue pie without meringue for my birthday every year? Who will I tell? Who will tell for me?

Nothin' But a Good Time!

I've worked in the entertainment industry for over ten years. I'm lucky to work at one of the most recognizable studios in the world. And, I'm lucky not to be jaded - walking on the lot still makes me giddy. 

In these ten years, I've had the chance to experience some incredible things - TV show tapings, an intimate tour of shooting locations for Blade Runner with Ridley Scott, even a movie premiere. But, last Friday night was THE MOST INCREDIBLE EXPERIENCE EVER!

A few weeks ago, I sent an email offering to work the Rock of Ages premiere. Honestly, I didn't expect a response. Secretly, you know I wanted one.

So, I waited. Patiently. (Hey - I'm a Taurus, we're patient people.)

And, I was rewarded. My name was on the staff list for the premiere and after party WITH POISON AND DEF LEPPARD. OMG OMG OMG OMG! Talk about giddy - was I ever! I had two assignments for the night - inside and outside. AND - we were to dress in 80s attire! Aww yeah! I mean, really. It's Rock of Ages! THE epitome of 80s rock - big hair, acid wash, neon jewelry and blue eye shadow. COME ON! 

I only had a week to come up with an outfit. Finally, I narrowed all my possibilities down to 2 options. All the while, I'm fretting about the night because it would be my first premiere - what could I expect? What would be expected of me? What do I do? What does all this mean?! Thank God for Liz and Karen! Both assured me, reassured me and answered all of my silly questions. Beyond that, both were excited by how giddy and excited I was to attend. And, they helped with my outfit.

Fast forward to premiere day - a lot of Aqua Net and a lot of blue eye shadow. Ai yi yi! I wore my English Beat Special Beat Service t-shirt, black lace mini skirt, tights and black motorcycle boots. My hair was slicked back on one side, the other side hanging down over my eye. I wore a gorgeous orange/red eye shadow with blue eye liner that extended out to my hairline. Oh yeah. I rocked that look on one eye. I also wore one earring. Dude, I was kinda rad.

Inside the theater, I was nervous. David walked me around, showed me the sections and tried to calm me down. Once the soundtrack started, I was totally fine - I just sang, rocked it out. It was fun and we all were there for a good time, so I had one.

I think it's awesome to see movie stars. On only two occasions have I been the "loud obnoxious give me your attention" girl - the time I saw the Ocean's 11 cast playing shirts versus skins basketball (::thud::) and when I saw Ryan Gosling last week (::thud:: #2). Other than that, I'm "Hey, look" and the end.

But...put me with musicians? Oh, my. It's a different story! This theater was filled with 'em. I wanted to tell Lita Ford how she inspired me to be courageous. I wanted to explain to Kevin Cronin exactly what I felt when I drove over the Golden Gate Bridge for the first time with Roll With the Changes blaring. I wanted to yell at Debbie Gibson for throwing away the roses my friend gave to her. Segments of my life were represented in that room. I wanted to address each one. I wanted to thank or yell or hug and relive each one.

At the after party, I handled a table - making sure the guests had what they needed. I was pretty damn close to the stage. I was pretty damn close to tears. When Poison came out, all I could do was dance. So, I danced away from the table. The band ran through six classic songs - so much fun! I love it when I know all the words :)

Then, Riki Rachtman came onstage. My 15 year-old self started to shriek and yell - It was starting...

WE CAN'T STAND WAY BACK HERE! MOVE MOVE MOVE!

OK OK OK! We will. We will.

Gunter glieben glauchen globen

ALRIGHT!

My teenaged self took over at that precise moment. And, we moved right on down, in front of Vivian Campbell and Rick Savage, to the side of Joe Elliott. ::swoon:: 

Def Leppard ran through six songs ~ Rock of Ages, Hysteria, Foolin', Bringin' on the Heartbreak, Armageddon It and, of course, Pour Some Sugar On Me. Holy crap! I danced and screamed and sang and screamed and enjoyed the whole thing! It was amazing. They were so incredible! I am trying to find adequate words...I can't.

I tried to hold onto the night...did the best I could...but it ended. I know other premieres and after parties won't be like this one. That's okay. I am so ridiculously grateful to have been there, done that.

Hostess Lemon Pie

Last week, as I stood in line at a corner store, the Hostess treats stand caught my eye. Twinkies, HoHo's, Suzy Q's, SnoBalls, Zingers (the raspberry ones with coconut!), Ding Dongs, Hostess Cupcakes with the swirly design and powdered donuts had me smiling and drooling. I stopped when my gaze landed on first row of the stand. That's where the Hostess Pies were lined. Without hesitation, I grabbed a lemon pie.

Hostess Lemon pies remind me of field trips and Mt. View Elementary School. The night before a field trip, Mom would take me to Ray's Market to pick out treats for lunch. I always chose the same things - Funyuns and Hostess Lemon pies. In the morning, we would make my lunch. I would pack my lunch bag while Mom wrapped a frozen soda in aluminum foil.

By the time our lunch break rolled around, the soda would be slushy and cold - truly a favorite part of my field trip lunches.

I sat in my car, holding that lemon pie, smiling. I hadn't had one of these things since I was a kid! Quite silly how excited I was to eat this. I broke off the corner, popped it in my mouth. I didn't taste the lightly frosted crust. I didn't even taste the tangy lemon filling. I was too busy savoring memories...

Long bus rides, singing "99 Bottles of Beer" and stopping before we were out of the 80s, enthusiastically pumping arms in hopes one of the truck drivers on the road would sound his air horn, cheering wildly when a trucker obliged. I know one trip was to see the King Tut exhibit when it hit Los Angeles in the 70s. I could not tell you one thing about that collection. What I can tell you is how fun it was rolling down the grassy hill of the George Page museum. I do remember holding onto my glasses for dear life because I couldn't imagine trying to explain to my Dad how they broke! I do remember shrieking and laughing - that pure and joyful sound that escapes when, in that moment, all you know is glee and fun. Oh, how I giggled! The sheer delight of dizziness and nausea as I lay at the bottom of the hill. The uncomfortable I'm-covered-in-grass itchy feeling during the long bus ride back to school was easily tolerated because there was so much fun behind it all!

All that from a Hostess Lemon Pie.

Birthday Tour

For the past several years, the English Beat has played a show on or around my birthday. I've flown to Sacramento, driven to San Luis Obispo, and spent weekends down in Solana Beach just to see my favorite band for my birthday. When I checked their schedule for 2012, nothing was on the calendar; no worries, something would be added.

Rewind: Summer Tour 2010. Squeeze and the English Beat tour together for 2 weeks. And, so was I. My days were filled with travel and friends. My nights were filled with songs from my high school days. I danced onstage, backstage, side stage and in front of the stage, singing every word to every song by both bands. I had the time of my life! And now...

It's Summer Tour 2010 again! Squeeze *and* the English Beat *and* I will be rippin' and rockin' the east coast at the end April, the week leading up to my birthday! Woo hoooo! What a way to turn 45 :)

I am so freakin' excited! It's going to be amazing and incredible and soooo much fun! How could I be depressed about turning 45 with THIS on my horizon?!

It's Leap Blog Day!

Today is Leap Blog Day ~ hooray! I have invited the very funny and very lovely Kelly from Southern Fried Children to leap from her blog to mine. So, after you read her guest post, click on over and give her blog some love. And, without further ado, please welcome Kelly!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

(Thank you, Rissa – for allowing me to guest on your blog. One of my favorite things about you is your passion for music. So I knew I had to write something musical for you. I took it old school!)

Soundtrack

There became a pattern to my afternoons: Off the school bus, rush down the block, stop abruptly at the end of the driveway, tear open the mailbox. Stare dejectedly. It hadn’t come.

Days went by and if I asked my mother once I asked her a thousand times, “When do you think it will be here?”

“They said four to six weeks, honey. It’s been 10 days.”

I had seen the advertisement during Saturday morning cartoons. I was already in a musical mood, rocking out to Josie & the Pussycats, and when the commercial came on, the sound stopped me dead in my tracks.

Donna Summer.

If ever a white bread, seven year old Southern kid could will herself into the super glam, mega-afro’d, stunning Queen of Disco, it was me. Only twenty years and unfortunate genetics separated who I was on the outside, and who I longed to be on the inside.

I ran all the way to the kitchen, repeating the number.

800-555-7878

800-555-7878

Digging through the junk drawer, looking for a pencil. There’s never a pencil in here! And finally, scribbling the number on an envelope with the tiny stub of a purple crayon.

800-555-7878

“Mom! Please can I order it? Please? I saved money from my birthday and I’ll do extra chores and wash your car! Anything you want! Please?”

My mother was not a fan of disco. She had been, at one time, until my father made her trade in her Bee Gee albums and platforms for George Jones and a giant belt buckle. The final straw had been an incident involving a too-tight feathered headband and momentary loss of consciousness. Still, she acquiesced.

I don’t know that I have ever before or ever since anticipated something as much as the arrival of that 12 x 12 inch cardboard sleeve full of vinyl magic.

Finally, it arrived.

It was a Saturday morning when the mailman came to the door and I heard the words – “C.O.D.” I ran to my room and carefully opened my jewelry box and extracted the $12.99 plus shipping and handling, and ran back to the door. I handed over the cash, sweaty from my palms, and took delivery of the package.

It was the first piece of mail I’d ever received with just my name on it.

It was the first album I had ever purchased with my own money.

I raced back to my room, carefully unwrapped it, and marveled at the most singularly awesome piece of cover work I’d ever seen.

I don’t know how long I stared at the cover. I would revisit it time and again, wondering – what did it mean? Looking at those static bodies, all big boobs and leisure suits, knowing that if I stared long enough, they’d start moving. How can you look like that and not move your body? How can you listen to something by a band called ‘Natural Juices’ and not want to shake it?

I pulled the album from the sleeve and blew gently across the surface. I was careful to hold it only on the sides, like my dad had shown me. Onto the record player, the switch flipped, and it began to spin. Slowly, carefully, tentatively, with a wildly beating heart and shaking hands, I lowered the needle.

FRIDAY! Ba da da dum, da dum! – thank God it’s FRIDAY!

It was amazing, it was perfect, it was disco.

NaBloPoMo 11.22 - Crush

One of the NaBloPoMo prompts said to make a list of everyone you've had a crush on (!) then choose one and describe him in great detail. I made a mental list, because an actual writing-it-down list would take a lot of time.

I recall elementary school crushes on Eric Pyle and Tony Caruso. Eric was a tall, lanky blonde kid who broke my heart in the 4th grade on Valentine's Day when he knocked Valentines for my class out of my hand and they scattered across the playground in the wind. Tony was the captain of my 3rd grade class kickball team. All of the girls at Mt. View had a crush on him. Later that year, the city did a re-zoning of schools in the district. Tony was one of the kids being sent to Adams Elementary School the next year. I was sad, for sure. But, I was also jealous because it was the only 2-story school in town. I wanted to go there for that reason alone! Tony and I ended up at the same junior high, graduated from the same high school and remain friends in our middle age. In fact, a few years ago, we randomly ran into each other while in Hawaii. We had drinks one night after his conference and played catch-up on our lives as well as our classmates.

Eight grade had me crushing on a redhead named Dean. Boy oh boy did I have it bad for that kid! I was awkward, introverted and almost 6 feet tall. The 2 of us reconnected a few years ago on Myspace (I know, right?!) but have since lost contact. Now, I know where my affinity for the gingers came from :)

High school had me crushing something fierce on John Lyons, one of the most popular guys ever to walk across a campus. He was a football star and handsome and popular and dated all the cute little cheerleaders. By this time, I was 6'2" - hardly cute and hardly little.

The summer after high school graduation, I discovered a show called Dancin' On Air. The teen dance show was taped in Philadelphia and broadcast on KDOC Channel 56, a small Southern California station. My friend Kathy and I watched the show while working on philosophy homework. One song played caught my ear - O'Chi Brown Whenever You Need Somebody. One guy in white pants and a red shirt caught my eye. I became a huge fan of the show - and its subsequent cable spin-off Dance Party USA. I watched and recorded shows and, like a silly fan girl with a huge crush, wrote letters to that guy, Eddie O'Neil. Eventually, Eddie and I would meet; and my crush turned into a like. After 26 years, Ed and I remain in each others lives as very good friends.

Today, I'm crushing on a ridiculously smart man. I'm talking smart! He's clever and witty and intelligent and completely charming. And, he's British. Good grief, am I a smitten kitten! We'll see where this thing goes...but, I gotta tell ya, having a crush at the age of 44 is so much better than it was when I was 18 or 16 or 13 or 8...I can actually SAY something to him and know, if the crush is unrequited, life will not end!

Please enjoy a few 'crush' videos :)

NaBloPoMo 7.13

I love getting mail. Birthday cards from my grandparents & godparents in San Pedro (with money) and my Aunt Alice in Baltimore started it all. It gave me a tremendous thrill to see my name on the envelope. The thrill continues even now when I get a card or invitation or postcard or letter. I remember when I went to Girl Scout camp, I made my parents promise to send me letters. Hearing my name at mail call or finding a letter on my sleeping bag was so exciting!

As a teenager, I was completely enthralled with Tiger Beat magazine. In my humble 15-year old opinion, Tiger Beat had the best pictures and stories of the heartthrobs of the time. I would wake up early Saturday morning, allowance in hand, ready to hit Stater Bros. with my mom. While she would grocery shop, I would be at the magazine stand, reading the latest teen magazines. Tiger Beat would be tucked under my arm, saving it until I was safe & secure in my bedroom where I could dream about going on a date with Scott Baio or being serenaded by Rick Springfield. One section that was of particular interest to me was the Classified page. There, kids could list ads looking for pen-pals. I always read the ads, but for some reason, I never replied to one. *Light bulb* Submit your own, Rissa! So, I did.

A couple of months later, I started getting letters: Hi, saw your ad in Tiger Beat - I like Rick Springfield, too! I love Loverboy! I love rollerskating, too! It was such a thrill to get letters from all over the country. I wrote back to each and every person.

One of the first to reply to my reply was Kristin from Iowa. We were pen-pals throughout high school - sending letters, birthday gifts, photos, even phone calls on occasion. After high school, I think we lost touch for a bit but reconnected after Kristin married and became pregnant. She moved out of Iowa and we once again lost touch. We briefly reconnected when she moved out to southern California. That was...oh, geez...late 80s/early 90s...and we hadn't been in touch since.

Over the weekend, while spending quality time with Insomnia, I got to reminiscing. I used Facebook search...and found a girl that could possibly be the same Kristin. So, I sent her an email ~ hey, this is random and weird...my name is Rissa...I had a pen pal...are you her? Two days later - voila! - OMFG! That IS me! Friend request me!

Kristin & I have been messaging and commenting back and forth, catching up. Her family is beautiful; she looks fantastic and her life is good! It's one time I'm not cursing Insomnia.

My other pen-pal from that Tiger Beat ad, Shari, lives in Kansas. We're still in touch. I've even been out to visit her & her family a couple of times. It wasn't awkward or weird or anything; we had fun and talked like old friends. Which, we were.

Crap...this went all over the place, didn't it?! Ha! Can't really wrap it up how I intended...so, I'll just stop.

The end.

Journal in a Jar - 01.15.10

Write about some of the places you went with your father.

Dad used to take me to the San Bernardino Civic Light Opera for musicals. It's one of my fondest memories because it was just the two of us. The night before the matinee, Mom would roll my hair in those pink plastic curlers. Remember those? Hard plastic with the spongey middle to wrap your hair around. Oh how I hated sleeping in those things! Inevitably, 3 or 4 would fall out, leaving me with imperfect curls. Dad would take me to Sir George's or the railroad car restaurant that used to be on Magnolia and Arlington in Riverside. Then off to the show.

The first show I recall in great detail is Godspell. John the Baptist stood in the aisle right next to me, blew his horn three times and proclaimed "Prepare ye the way of the Lord!" I was spellbound; completely fascinated by the music and the actors and the spectacle of a live show. I'm pretty sure I didn't understand what was happening - until the end when they 'crucify' Jesus by tying him to the fence. I still shiver at that (Oh God, I'm dying).

Another warm and wonderful memory is Sunday afternoons at Fiesta Village in Colton. Dad would take me and Yancy...we would play video games after a round of miniature golf, then race to the trampolines or batting cages. This was before Fiesta Village added the water slide. There were bumper boats at one point, I think. Jumping on the trampolines was my absolute favorite ~ free and flying for a brief moment. Absolute joy is what I'm feeling then and now.

One last memory...oh so long ago a road ran parallel to Ontario Airport. The area was unincorporated, no stop signs or signals and fairly dark. This road had a huge dip. I loved riding in Dad's '66 Mustang, speeding along, approaching this dip in the road and yelling "Coast it, Daddy! Coast it!" He would say he was coasting down the dip; who knows if he did or not. But the speed, the slight element of (10 year old perceived) danger and giggling always made me beg him to turn around and do it again.

I'm going to call my Dad today and thank him.

I'm liking this Facebook thing

I joined Facebook one week ago. I thought it would be another myspace thing ~ a bunch of people I barely know wanting to be my friend in order to promote their band/music/cause/whatever. Wow - it's been a tremendous connection vehicle!

At first, I was accepting friend requests simply because he/she asked. Not anymore. I'm viewing FB as much more personal, intimate connection therefore being more selective. I've connected with classmates from high school ~ including a former teacher; former students from my years of teaching and interpreting; former co-workers, current co-workers and my very close friends.

However, the connections that are most special to me are the ones I'm making with my sorority sisters - Alpha Sigma Theta at CSUN. I can't believe I've found these women after almost 20 years! One sister has pictures posted - and I was in one of the pics. Good grief! My hair was biiig and very 80s (thank you KMS Ice hairfreeze). At the time I thought I looked goood. :)

Those were wonderful times; brief - too brief - but wonderful. I hope to connect with many more...

Thanks, Facebook!

Everybody's doing it...

I like myspace. I do! Music, friends, blogs, stuff. I just like it.

Several friends have told me about facebook, encouraging me to join. When asked 'Why? What's the difference?' no one could tell me. 'It's just better...' didn't quite cut it. It took a threat from Chickens for me to even look at FB. And am I glad I did!

I joined (read: succumbed to peer pressure) on Friday and I've reconnected with so many people: high school friends, my first high school English teacher, several of my Alpha Sigma Theta sisters from CSUN. Incredible! I spent several hours clicking through photos and updates, posting comments, catching up. Tons of warm and wonderful memories rushed over me. Yeah, sounds corny - I know. But it's the only way to describe it!

The only thing that bugs me? Everyone wants to know about my brother! ;)

music, Michelle and mixed tapes

All of you know I'm a music fan. All music. Period. Jonny Lang to Johnny Rotten to Johnny Mathis. I'm a fan. C'mon ~ Mom is an opera singer; Dad is a jazz pianist who plays by ear. No, none of that raw talent was passed to me, but I digress.

You should also know I am all about the 80s music genre - hair bands, alternative/new wave, freestyle dance, old skool, all of it. As it's the music of my youth, obviously there's a special place in my ears for 80s; particularly the alternative/new wave/KROQ music. I attribute this love to two people ~ Richard Blade and Michelle L from RHS.

Michelle was a year or two ahead of me; I think we met when I was a sophomore - many details escape me. She was a one of a handful of girls I admired in high school, mainly because she didn't follow trends, she set her own. Before Duran Duran really made the 'scene' she had blonde bangs a la John Taylor. WOW! That was huge to me. I couldn't carry that shit off; but she could and did. I remember Michelle wearing the 'John Taylor hat' one day (you know what I'm talkin' 'bout - the hat from the videos!) and I couldn't contain myself. The only hats I saw at school were baseball caps on boys! Again, this was huge to me.

Michelle and I had a class together (again, details escape me); I don't recall much work getting done. I do recall listening to her tales - seeing Duran Duran at a gallery opening in Hollywood (gasp - she went to Hollywood?!), concerts, clubs, music and bands (she gave me the lyrics to Haircut 100's 'Favourite Shirt' which was one of my faves of the day). She talked about videos on MTV, all of this music coming out of England and I was so intrigued!

One day, (I think) I gave Michelle a blank cassette or two, requesting some of this music I'd only heard her talk about. What I got were two of the most awesome mixed tapes ever. Ever. Seriously. EVER. These tapes had music that still resonates in my head, my heart and my ears thanks to iTunes: Japan & David Sylvian "Gentlemen Take Polaroids" was magical and haunting; the original version (and my favorite version) of "Pretty in Pink" and "Run Run Run" by the Psychedelic Furs; "Enjoy Yourself" by the Specials; Duran Duran, of course; "Fantastic Day" by HC100; and a song called "Jackpot" by this band called the Beat. I had never heard anything like it! I wanted to hear more. I wanted to know more about this band, the Beat. Of course, nothing could be found in the local Wherehouse or Licorice Pizza (how's THAT for a flashback?!). It wasn't until later that I discovered the Import sections and vinyl heaven at Mad Platter or that awesome record store that used to be in the Hardman Center in Riverside (again, details escape me).

A couple of years ago, I sent Michelle a message on classmates.com. And, recently, we've reconnected (via a cryptic/creepy email from me - "Michelle L from RHS?" Yep, that's all I wrote).

So, Michelle ~ thank you! Those 2 cassettes brought joy to my ears and that one song by that one band still brings me joy to this day. This Friday will be my 14th English Beat show this year.

:)

NaBloPoMo ~ Home XXIII

Rissa's Top Ten Family Reunion highlights:

10. My favorite cousin dancing a hula in a shirt our Grandma gave her. ::sniffle::

9. Seeing baby Lili for the first time. She's adorable - and she's my favorite!

8. Favorite story Number 2 ~ When my Grandma discovered my favorite uncle had started smoking, she put him in the closet and wouldn't let him out until he smoked the whole pack.

7. Favorite story Number 1 ~ Even back in their day, low trou was the style. My favorite uncle followed the trend, much to my Grandma's dismay. "Fine. You want the neighbors to see your underwear?" She made him walk around their neighborhood in his chonies!

6. Non-family member: "I'm going to get my Super Soaker gun." Me: "No, that wouldn't be fair. We all should use the little water guns." N-FM: "Right. *I* would have the advantage." Me: ::low gravelly voice:: "You are a guest here." He walked away, sulking. ::dusting off hands:: My work here is done.

5. The water guns! Don't know who thought of it, but having the water guns was sheer brilliance. Brilliance, I say! Aunt Patricia passed 'em out during the magician (yes, I said 'magician') and it was ON. How lucky to have my favorite cousin sitting right in front of me! She couldn't figure out who was shooting her. :) Later, we teamed up to fight a couple of N-FMs. Oh what fun!

4. The food. We had a traditional Hawaiian luau ~ including kalua pig. Mmmm mmm!

3. Mom singing my grandparents' favorite song "The Hawaiian Wedding Song" ::sniffle:: But doing so without my favorite uncle ::sniffle sniffle::

2. Looking at all of the family photos, reminiscing, telling stories, laughing and marvelling at the fashions/hairstyle choices (mullets and puka shell necklaces were quite the hit in this family).

1. Spending time with my favorite cousins ~ many of whom I haven't seen in forever (!); all of whom have grown up to become good and good-hearted, fun and funny people.

NaBloPoMo ~ Taurus.

Originally written in February 2008, the following story was an in-class assignment: Write about a childhood incident that still reverberates. We had 10-12 minutes to write.

Ahh, Marineland. One of my favorite places!

It was a gorgeous day - though I don't recall the sun or weather. I do recall, however, sitting in the bleachers of a stadium, looking down at a huge swimming pool. OK, it was really a tank; but I had no other frame of reference at age 7.

I was captivated by the dolphins - beautiful sleek creatures, swimming effortlessly; gliding, really. The tricks were amazing - flip, 2 flips, 'walk' through the water on its tail, jump, jump higher, through this hoop, through that hoop. I was enthralled. I was in love!

Daddy asked if I liked the show.

"Oh, yes! Yes I did! I want one please."

Dad laughed that dismissive laugh. I know now that it was dismissive. Then, at 7, all I knew was that it wasn't a No. "Sorry, Little One, we can't have a dolphin at the house."

I rattled off all the pros: we have a pool, we have hoops, I know how to swim. "All I need is the blue suit. And the dolphin."

Dad laughed that dismissive laugh again. I kept pushing. I enlisted Mom, pleading. She simply said "No."

"We have..."
"No."
"I know..."
"No."
"But Daddy didn't..."

She stopped, turned to me, bent over so her eyes aligned with mine. "No. N-o." I looked pleadingly at Daddy.

"I told you no."

I stood there.

I crossed my arms.

And pouted.

I marched - yes I marched - through the park, arms crossed, still smarting from the No's. I did not speak for the rest of the day.

I guess you could say that was the day I epitomized being a Taurus.

NaBloPoMo ~ Oh my gosh, I don't believe it

or 'walking through the park and reminiscing' part 2

In 'WTTP&R' , I prepared for, and won, the Miss Tall Los Angeles 1997 pageant. One of my 'duties' was to represent the California Tip Toppers Club at the Miss Tall International pageant, held that year in Clearwater Beach FL.

I had ten weeks to prepare for the Miss TI pageant. Prepare? Prepare for what? I had *no* clue what to expect, other than more questions, more smiling, more walking. I picked a new song, bought a suit for interviews, read and re-read all the questions on the list of pageant questions someone gave me and had a ball gown made. I was going to Florida for free for a week's vacation with a night at a pageant tucked in.

I arrived in time to meet the other contestants at our first rehearsal. There were 13 of us, total. The pageant 'mother' had everything planned out - where to stand, how to walk, how long to stand in one place, blah blah blah. We were arranged so that the tallest of us was in the middle; at 6'10" Ellen was smack dab in the middle. Guess where I fell in line? Yep, right next to her. I was in her armpit! We rehearsed for hours.

As I watched the other women, I tried to pick a winner. We were different shapes and sizes, ages and heights. I always came back to Lori from Houston. She epitomized - to me - the perfect pageant contestant: tall, thin and beautiful. And, of course, she was so effing nice! But because this was the tall club, I figured Ellen was a shoo-in. Winning never crossed my mind. Ever. Again, I was a girl on a free vacation in Florida with a night at a pageant tucked in.

The day of the pageant: the interviews with the judges went fairly well. All of the girls were so confident in how well they'd done. I was pretty sure all my little 'interview tricks' made an impression more so than my actual answers (Trick #1: when the timer goes off say 'Has it been 5 minutes already?' all surprised and whatnot; Trick #2: sign 'thank you' at the end of the interview; Trick #3: shake hands and grasp the clasped hands with your other hand - apparently it shows sincerity; there were others...).

I was Contestant #6, so there was a few minutes of not rushing to get into my talent costume (which really wasn't a costume as I wore shorts, a t-shirt and white Keds). My number was called - I was on deck. I stood there, poised and ready, listening to the audience's collective roar of laughter at Ellen's very clever stand-up routine. She walked off stage to wild applause, whistles and cheers. "Well," I thought, "at least the beginning of my song will have 'em clapping a bit." All of a sudden, I had to pee.

I heard my introduction, waited for my musical cue, then burst through the curtains. It was all bright lights, shadowy outlines of people and loud music. 'Celebration' by Kool and the Gang is one of those songs that gets you moving, without realizing it. Why do you think I chose it to sign to! The audience was already clapping as I made my rounds on the stage. I signed the song, taking great care to engage the judges ("It's up to you, what's your pleasure?") and the audience ("We're gonna have a good time tonight, let's celebrate, it's alright!"). At the end, on the advice of Brandy, I blew a kiss and waved the 'I Love You' sign at my mom. Aww...

We did our evening gown 'walk' and, again, I waved the 'ILY' sign at my mom a couple of times. Aww...

It was time to announce the 5 finalists. We're standing on stage, lights glaring, camera flashes flashing, each of us muttering something about paparazzi through our practiced smiles.

:::drum roll:::
Andrea from San Francisco, Lynelle from Silicon Valley, Laura from Chicago, Janey from St. Louis and...Rissa from Los Angeles! Huh? Wha? I wasn't paying any attention, just looking at Ellen, waiting for her to step out of line. One of our escorts backstage had to push me forward.

The 5 of us stood there, smiling for more pictures. We were then escorted backstage while the reigning Miss Tall International took her final 'walk' around the stage. The girls were so nervous. I was so hungry. I was picking at the leftover fruit and cheese platter, looking around for bottled water, grabbing handfuls of M&Ms. I really was not comprehending WTH was going on. Janice, the woman who made my dress, was fixing my makeup and hair, squealing and chatting. The escorts came to get us and we lined up on stage again.

"Fourth runner-up: Andrea!" Clap clap clap.
"Third runner-up: Lynelle!" Clap clap clap.
"Second runner-up: Laura!" Clap clap clap.
"First runner-up: Janey!" Clap clap clap. Screams.

That's the last thing I recall. I don't remember the emcee saying my name. There was a flurry of activity around me - the crown, the robe, the sash, the people, the cameras. Most of my memories of that night I recall only because I've seen the video.

I was Miss Tall International 1997!

I was up most of the night, dancing, celebrating, talking to press. People were congratulating me, wishing me well. I had no idea most of them were liars.

NaBloPoMo ~ N is for nostalgic

Saturday night, my brother's kids were dedicated at their church, The Grove Community Church. More than 30 years ago, the Grove was known as Riverside Union Church (eventually becoming Victoria Community Church); and it was where my brother & I went to church.

Every Sunday, we would get up early, get dressed, get a quarter from my Dad for the offering and wait for the church van to come pick us up. It was a huge white and green passenger van with the name of the church painted on the side. Later, it would be an embarrassment to me. But at the age of 7, it was just how we got to church.

Church was incredibly rewarding and painful for me. As a child, it was arts and crafts and songs and snacks; make new friends, play on the playground. When I was old enough to go into the sanctuary for Sunday services, I was always lost in the music - one woman, Lucy, could hit notes higher than Mariah. I loved watching the choir in their robes, listening to the blending of voices. I didn't understand most of the words; and it didn't matter at the time, I just wanted to be swept up in the music and power.

Then, I entered junior high school. I was probably 5'11" by this time - chubby, tall, awkward. And, this was about the time the youth ministry would put on plays, musicals. The church would have 1 or 2 musicals during the year. I started out loving them - costumes, singing (which I couldn't do), acting, lights, stage. I never was a ham; didn't want any attention in my direction than what was already coming my way (you're so tall, blah blah blah). I was more than content to be part of the choir, in the back of course. Until, one day, I was asked to play a part in one show. Whoa. No thanks! I was to be the snake in the Garden of Eden, tempting Adam & Eve. When I declined, I was told I was the only one who could do it because I was so big. Wow. I didn't like that at all. But how could I tell people at church that I didn't want to participate? I didn't know. So, for weeks of rehearsals and two weeks' worth of performances, I was dressed in green pants & green shirt, wearing swimmer's goggles with lenses colored red with a Magic Marker. Luckily I wasn't asked to writhe on the floor like a snake.

Another musical had me dressing as a hula girl. Not as bad as a snake, but as the hula girl I had to sing! Out loud. In front of other people. Ohh the horror! In the rehearsals, the production director had to keep reminding me to sing out loud because I whispered. She told me I had a beautiful voice. But I could hear it.

The final straw for me came when the youth ministry put on a contemporary musical about high school. The music was sooo cool! And there was ONE SONG I really really wanted to sing. I mean really really. Come auditions day, I went in, full of confidence; belted out the song to the best of my (limited) ability in front of the woman who told me I had a beautiful voice. Well, I didn't get it. I was crushed. However, I did get to help move the sets & props around with the boys. I remember the first night of the musical, while the girl sang my song, I cried a little bit.

I'm sorry I didn't enjoy those times more; sorry I wasn't the Rissa I am now so the experience would be filled with more happy for me. I can feel the happy now as I look back, just wish it was more tangible for me then.

I was a snake. LOL.

walking through the park and reminiscing...

When I moved to Los Angeles, I knew one person - my roommate, Peggy. As she spent most of her time with her boyfriend, I was left to acclimate alone. One night, during a tearful phone conversation with a friend from home, I learned about the California Tip Toppers Club, the tall club of Los Angeles. Laugh, snicker and mock - go ahead. This group gave me life.

When I joined in 1995, I was shy, unsure and introverted. As I became more socially involved in the club, met people and made friends, the true me began to emerge. I felt comfortable and secure and confident which, up until I'd moved and joined the club, were foreign to me.

In the winter of 1996, I was approached by Debbie, the club's reigning Miss Tall Los Angeles. She was recruiting women to participate in the pageant. I didn't even bother to suppress my laugh. Seriously. I'd never seen a girl who looks like ME in ANY pageant. Ever! I relayed the story to Marie. As I laughed, she remained silent.

"What are you afraid of, Ris?"
"People. Humiliation. Swimsuits. Humiliation. And, embarrassment!"
"Think about it." Her parting words.

I did. I thought long and hard. I called Debbie every few days, peppering her with questions, demanding details, every single detail this pageant involved. When I was guaranteed there was no swimsuit involvement, I seriously considered. I had moved to LA with every intention of trying new things. I had allowed myself to be stiffled by Sean, allowed him to dictate my day, my feelings, everything. Time to think and do and feel for myself, damn it!

"OK, Debbie, I'll do it." Ai yi yi! WHAT am I doing?!

A woman was brought in to 'coach' us - Brandy. She helped us (there were to be only 3 contestants) with all the pageant stuff as she was a former judge and coach to the Miss America, Miss USA and Miss Teen franchises. I guess she knew WTH she was talking about. So, I practiced walking, practiced sitting, practiced my appropriate pageant answers, even practiced smiling! I thought of it like my debut - the new me.

The day of the pageant arrived ~ April 20, 1997. We had individual interviews with the judges. I'm much better at conversation, casual chats. These pre-set questions the judges were asking were truly absurd. But, I put on my pageant smile, recited the pageant answers and played along.
I wasn't really afraid of the interview part. It was the TALENT portion of the program that had me shaking. I had rehearsed only a handful of times with Peggy and twice with Brandy & the other two contestants. I didn't show Debbie or her pageant helpers my 'skit' but all were well aware of what I would be doing - a song in sign language. Debbie chastised me "How can we help you if we don't see what you're doing?" "It's sign language. Do you know sign language? Would you know if what I did was right or wrong?" That silenced her (though she would critique and chastise me regarding everything else I did). The song was 'Finally' by CeCe Peniston, an up-tempo, fun song. I had the crowd clapping along, my family was going crazy and the judges had huge smiles on their faces. It was a total rush!

When all was said and done, I had won. Shut up, I know! (to brazenly quote Micah) I was Miss Tall Los Angeles 1997.

It was the beginning of a year that would lift me up, crush me, show me who my true friends really were and lead me to discover a wonderful new person.

size matters - or, my day as a 6'2" geisha

By the time I turned 16, I was 6'2" tall. I told everyone I was 5'11" because a) it was tall, but not freakishly tall and b) I didn't know of any woman who was over 6' tall.

Along with being tall came the issue of shoes. *sigh* I'm a 12. Yeah, I know. My Mom & Grams used to tell me "If your feet were any smaller, you'd fall over." At the time, I'd have gladly fallen over. Over and over! All through junior high and 9th grade, I wore white Nike tennis shoes with a blue or red swoosh. That's all I could find! Payless Shoes was non-existent. So, I suffered in tennis shoes. At the end of 9th grade, I had discovered catalogs. Fairly decent shoes in my size. Through these catalogs, I discovered the espadrille. The gorgeous canvas shoe with the slight heel wrapped in rope. Oh, how I longed for a pair of espadrilles! Sadly, espadrilles were only offered up to a size 10.

The summer of 1982 found my family in Baltimore for vacation. We had decided to do our back-to-school shopping there - no doubt we'd find 'cool' stuff not available in RiverCity! While browsing the windows, I happened upon a shoe store with espadrilles. The very same espadrilles I'd been drooling over for months in catalogs were now right in front of my face, begging to be touched. I walked in.

"Taupe espadrilles in size 10 please."

The box suddenly appeared, containing my beloved espadrilles. "I'm sorry, we only have white in size 10." No matter! Canvas. Easily cleanable.

I carefully opened the box, peeling back the packing paper which covered my espadrilles. Sparkling white, perfectly wrapped rope around the heel, the smell of canvas. Ahhh! Afraid to touch them, but anxious to put them on, I pulled the shoes out of the box. I couldn't get the stockings on my feet fast enough.

Breathe.

Gulp.

I shoved...uh, I mean...gingerly slipped my foot into the espadrille. It fits! It fits! This must be how Cinderella felt. Filled with such elation, I put on the other shoe. It fits! It fits! I stood up. Ok...this is good. I walked a couple of steps. Ok...this is good too. I turned and walked back. I could not stop staring at the espadrilles. The shoes I wanted were actually on my feet!

Now, while this is going on, my Mom and sister are clucking: they don't fit, they're too small, your toes are scrunched at the top, etc. Uhh...hellooo! My feet. I'm fine. My espadrilles. Oh, happy day! I have espadrilles, I have espadrilles!

Fast-forward to the first or second week of school. I am decked out in my new outfit, complete with white espadrilles and I look good. I made it through 1st and 2nd periods with no problem (solely due to the fact that the classes were across the hall from one another and very close to my locker). 3rd period? That didn't go as well. I hobbled...uh, I mean...had to walk to the middle of the campus. Luckily, I was in the office, so sitting offered sweet relief. The rest of the day was all downhill from there.

By the time school was over, I was cursing my espadrilles. I couldn't walk, I was in such pain. I literally shuffled home. Like a geisha.

Hell yeah, I wore those espadrilles again!

11/23

Today is my sister's birthday. This is a collection of my favorite memories...

* my favorite story is when my sister "lost" me in Sears. I was a toddler, my sister in charge of me while my parents shopped for whatever they shopped for. Somehow, according to my sister, I 'wandered' off. Truth be told, I think she tried to ditch me. She was looking at clothes when my parents approached, asking where I was. There was panic, the salespeople were stationed in front of the doors, everybody else walked the aisles in search of me. Much to my sister's chagrin, I was found in the greeting cards section, sitting on the floor, cards set-up around me, telling stories to the animals on the cards. I cried when the manager took me away. My sister cried, too. For a different reason.

* my sister taught me how to cha cha in the middle of the department store, The Broadway, at the Tyler Mall.

* when someone is getting on our nerves, we refer to said person by name followed by "Bless his/her heart" - that way we know a goooood story is coming!

* when shopping for music, my sister has to sing each song on whatever CD she picks up, usually followed by 'ooh that's my jam'

My sister is the keeper of my secrets, an amazing mother, a humanitarian with a beautiful heart and one of my most favorite people in the world.

They say you can't pick your family. I say, I would pick her every time.

Happy Birthday, Rome!

Mmmemories...

Ever since my Grams died, Thanksgiving has never been the same for me.

Each year, the family would converge on the San Pedro house for Thanksgiving - all the aunts, uncles and cousins in my grandparents' tiny house. My Grams would be up at the crack o'dawn baking pies from scratch. Uh huh, scratch. The amazing thing? She'd bake pies for all of her neighbors, the nuns at the church next door, co-workers and her own family dinner. She was Marie Callendar (only much better)!

The spread was the usual Thanksgiving fare, along with family favorites: rice, long rice, chicken adobo, poi. And, the pies. Oh, the pies! Pumpkin, pumpkin pecan, apple, sweet potato for my Dad, and lemon meringue for me (she actually would make 2 - one with and one without meringue). I felt sorry for first-time visitors who brought pies. No one would touch 'em. No one could touch Grams' pies! (Side bar: at her funeral, one of her long-time friends mentioned something about missing her pies. The entire congregation groaned as one.)

The first Thanksgiving after she died, I went to Las Vegas to spend time with my former college roommate and her family. It was a great weekend! But the subsequent Thanksgivings were really nothing of note. Until my sister started hosting her in-laws.

The first year she hosted, there were about 75 people. This year, she hosted 30 of us. And the spread was the shit! Turkey, prime rib, ham, hot links, greens, potato salad, mac and cheese (ohh yeah!), corn bread, stuffing and tamales (I know!). All of the desserts were home-made - lemon cake, pumpkin pie, sweet potato pie, German chocolate cake, apple pie, peach cobbler. Good grief! Carb coma.

My sister, niece and I talked about our favorite Grams' memories...made my heart smile. No, it'll never be the same. But, it's close.

I confess

"Da Doo Run Run" by Shaun Cassidy just came on XM 70s radio. When this song came out in 1977, I was 10 years old. I wrote Shaun Cassidy a letter, professing my undying love for him, telling him I listened to the 45 all the time and how funny, my name is Jill and you're singing to me!

I signed the letter "Love, Reese"

OK, I am such a dork. Seriously. Dorkus maximus. Right now, I can't stop laughing. I am crying, actually.