Great Mother's Day weekend!

Oh, man, it was good to get away this weekend.  As you can see, Mom and Stepdaddy are doing well.

Don't they look fantastic?  You'd never know her blouse is on backward, right?  It is!  When she showed me the tag in the front, I thought, oh Jesus, she's losing it.  But Mom said the girl in the Black & White store said a lot of people wear it backwards so I guess she's okay after all.

Boise is just a wonderful place--every time I go there I love it more and more. It's a city in the middle of the country. Within minutes you can go from seeing cattle grazing to walking around a funky downtown with cool shops and restaurants.  I know, I tell you this over and over but it's true.  It's a really nice place to live.

After I got in Friday night we headed straight to Bardenay Restaurant and Distillery in Eagle, just outside of Boise, and had dinner on the outside patio on the Boise River.  The weather was beautiful and in the summer it doesn't get dark up there until after nine o'clock; next month around the summer solstice it will still be bright at ten.

On Saturday Mom and I toured some houses on the Parade of Homes, went shopping at Ross (of course), and then we met the lady who runs the Boise office of our company for a drink at another cool little place with a patio.  I'd talked to her on the phone several times, but had never met her.  She was awesome.

And then on Sunday we lounged around the house until it was time to go out for dinner.

Super.  Here's another picture that will come up when someone Googles "middle age spread."  I've been doing pretty well weight-wise, keeping under 140, but if someone told me 10 years ago that I'd be happy to weigh 139.6, I'd be like get the hell out--that's what I weighed both times the day I gave birth.  Whatev, right?  Hey, look--I wore the same skirt to my brother's wedding in 2008.

And I thought I looked fat then and I was probably four pounds lighter.  Maybe five.

Anyway, usually when I go to Boise we try to take in a movie at The Flicks (independent movie house that sells mircobrews), but we didn't get a chance this time.  Mom said she hasn't seen anything good lately, but she watched No Strings Attached on Netflix twice because evidently Ashton Kutcher has a wonderful ass.  I swear to God.

I got her a Mother's Day card that said something like the nut doesn't fall far from the tree and it scares the crap out of me that it might be true.  But take a look at that first photo again--I sure wouldn't mind looking like that when I'm 78!

One last photo I must share.  Because you know how exciting it is to look at other people's grandchildren.

I miss them so much.  I have a flight booked for early next month--can't wait!

Stand up straight, smile, and make a few thousand bucks in minutes

I'm always telling you to do two things as often as you can:

1.  Stand up straight.

2.  Smile.

Right?  Don't I always say that?  Well, look what I found in Dr. Oz's column in the newspaper the other day:

"Researchers in Japan measured the angle between the base of the neck and the middle of the back of independent-living 65-year-olds. How slouched a person's shoulders were predicted if he or she was still going to be self-sufficient five years later. Those who slouched the most were about three and a half times more likely to need assistance for everyday chores than those who stood the straightest."

Seriously, I cannot stress the importance of good posture enough. I tell my clients all the time to start working on their posture immediately because the way they carry themselves will affect how they come across in an interview. People with good posture project confidence and command authority, and that's exactly what will give you the edge, especially when it comes to salary negotiations.  Think of it this way:  Just by standing up straight and smiling, you may be able to line your pockets with a few thousand dollars.

Hey, last week I gave a little mini-session on negotiating salary at work.  Maybe you guys will find this info helpful, too.

Tips for Negotiating Salary

1.  The biggest factor in determining whether or not you get a higher salary is based solely on whether you ask.

• The vast majority of companies (80%) are willing to negotiate salary, but the vast majority of employees never even try.
• 18% of job seekers never negotiate their salaries, 44% negotiate occasionally, and only 37% of prospective employees will always become an active participant in determining their salary.
• 13% of job seekers are comfortable negotiating.
• Of those asking for a boost, 72% received it.

2.  DO NOT ask if the offer is negotiable.

• This shifts the entire balance of power in their direction. They can simply say “No” and now the game is over.
• The worst part is, once they say “No” they can’t even change their mind if they wanted to. You might go on to present the most compelling case in the world for giving you more money, but now they'd have to admit that they were wrong in the first place.

3.  Negotiate cash compensation first and offer a number that places your goal as a midpoint.

• Once you determine the “wiggle room” for financial compensation—such as salary, bonus, incentives, pension and 401(k)—consider negotiating other non-monetary benefits such as insurance, vacation, educational assistance, professional membership dues, etc.

4.  Show how you can make an immediate impact on company performance.

5.  Don’t sound too canned or overly rehearsed.

6.  Remember that wages are merely an economic price for your economic output.

7.  Take the “How can we figure this out together?” approach.

• Don’t convey the “I want you to make the following changes” attitude.
• Instead, show that you’re both on the same side.

8.  Realize that many employers see candidates who negotiate as high performers.

9.  Don’t split hairs and don’t interrupt.

• Recruiters and hiring managers grow annoyed with back and forth negotiating of minutia or with an attitude of arrogance or entitlement.

10.  Understand that this will actually be the easiest money you’ve ever made.

• Just asking for more money may provide you an increase of 5-7%.

 And during all this, don't forget:

1. Stand up straight.
2.  Smile.

You can never hear it enough!

A little inspiration about attitude

All I will say (for now) about the home situation is I'm less bitchy this week than last week.  Nothing's changed except my attitude.

 It's kind of like... Have you ever had a doctor's appointment where they're making you wait and wait and you're getting more and more pissed off and all you want to do is kill somebody and your blood pressure is like a thousand over a million and you reach a point where you say to yourself, "I could walk out right now, motherfuckers" and just the fact that you can say, "Yeah, motherfuckers, I could walk out right now and never look back" and totally mean it... like you're not even going to find another doctor--no, fuck it--you may never see another doctor again in your life, you may give up doctors for good... just that realization makes you feel so empowered that you're not even pissed anymore and when the nurse finally calls your name and you get up from the crappy waiting room seat cushion like you're Clint Eastwood and you just know that nobody is gonna dare fuck with you unless they want this to be their last day on earth and just knowing that you're all Clint Eastwoody, with a drop or two of Ray Liotta and John McEnroe mixed in for good luck... just knowing that, just having that power, gets you through it all.

So it's true--attitude really does change everything!

So inspirational!

 

This is me trying to be positive

Unless you've landed here for the first time, you know that even on a good day I'm secretly plotting the demise of anybody who annoys me. So you can imagine what I'm like now, right?  Well, this is me thinking happy thoughts.

Some Happy Thoughts to Lower My Blood Pressure

My trip to Boise on Mother's Day weekend.  Mom is always good for a laugh and Stepdaddy always stocks up on Moose Drool when he knows I'm coming to town. That's a beer, in case you didn't know.

The Galaxy Luxury Theater in Green Valley.  Recliners... craft beer... and they will kick your ass out of the theater if you dare to touch your cell phone during the movie. Mike and I saw The Place Beyond the Pines there last Friday night.  The movie is set in Schenectady, where I worked during the Summer of 2010, and it was also filmed there.  While it was cool to see some local sites, the film itself was horrible (and looooong).  But still, you can't beat watching even a crappy movie like this:

Kumare.  It's a real movie about a fake guru, the best I've seen in a long time. Absolutely fantastic and available on Netflix.  This one I can recommend, especially if you're into yoga and holistic shit.  You'll still like it even if you're not. Don't miss it.

My weight this morning.  I was 139.8. Still 5 pounds away from my goal, but I'm getting there.  Maybe a little stress is good for you after all.

The Rising.  This Bruce Springsteen tribute band is coming to the House of Blues on July 10. You know me and tribute bands.

My friend Warren's visit to Vegas.  I met Warren a year and a half ago on a Southwest flight from Albany to Vegas and we've been friends ever since.  We get together every time I go to Albany or when he comes here.  Looking forward to seeing my pal the week of May 13.  

The trip I have planned with my grandson, Connor.  I want to take that kid so many places this summer, but I'm leaning toward LA. My dear friend Nina is a tour guide there and I'm hoping she'll be able to show us around--she definitely knows all the hot spots and houses of the stars that will impress him.  Plus, what 14-year-old doesn't want to cruise up the Pacific Coast Highway with his granny?

Hazel's recent overnight crank call rampage.  I talked to my first ex, Chris, last night and he said he recently got a call at 2:43 a.m. from Courtney.  Now, when your phone rings at that hour you naturally suspect a situation involving flashing lights, but evidently our 3-year-old granddaughter just had a case of insomnia and swiped her mother's phone while her parents slept.  Seems a couple of Courtney's friends were also greeted with a "Hi! Hi!" in the middle of the night.  Oh, how precious!

Happy Hour today with a blogging buddy.  We get together every so often for sausage rolls at an Irish pub and it's always a fun time.  Aw, sausage rolls... I'll be back in the 140s tomorrow.  Damn.

Well, that's about all I have right now.  Thanks for listening.  It's always nice to know you're out there.

The "W word" defined

I've heard from a bunch of you since yesterday's post, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart. My poor mother is worried about me, mainly because of the careless typos in my last post. Rest assured she did NOT bring me up like that! 

Damn. Is there anything worse than having your 78-year-old mother worry about you?  Shouldn't she have enough to worry about, like setting the DVR for Jeopardy and making sure she keeps her high blood pressure medicine straight?  Poor DeeDee Idaho even had to Google the word "wigger." For anyone else who's so lucky enough to still be in the dark, I'll ruin the "ignorance is bliss" for you, courtesy of the folks at Cracked.com.

How to spot a wigger

1: Hat. Must be worn backwards, as a symbol of anti-conformity. Under the hat--a "mushroom" hairstyle, or shaved head altogether. Hat must bear a sports team or a marijuana leaf.

2: Practiced sneer. Try not to laugh in the wigger's face when he flashes you his look of anger, as he's spent many hours in the mirror getting his look of disdain "just right." The practiced sneer may reveal a gold-capped tooth or 2, but this is optional, as many parents don't have extended dental plans which will cover their kids cosmetic dentistry.

3: Tattoos. Usually a tribute to a fallen rapper, sometimes the motto or slogan of a rap group, sometimes a pot leaf. In general, poor artwork that will be hard to explain to the grandkids (Grandpa, what's "Thug Life"?)

4:T-shirt bearing logo of clothing company that doesn't want the wigger wearing their clothes. Like FUBU, an acronym meaning "For Us, By Us," a black-owned company committing blatant racism by implying that the clothes they sell are for blacks only. This fact is lost on the wigger, however, as he continues to patronize this company, much to the dismay of his (rapidly depleting) dignity.

5: Gang sign of gang he's not in. Since he lives miles away from the first hint of urban blight, he can afford to throw up sets he doesn't belong to, scaring the elderly into thinking he's some kind of gangster, without fear of being killed by a real gang member for the crime of "false-flaggin'" (claiming you're down with a particular gang when you're not).

6: Gun. Usually a Crossman BB gun, just realistic enough to get wigger chicks to swoon over their fearless romeo.

7: Underwear sticking out a minimum of 6 inches above waistband. Some say it's laziness, but to a wigger, it's all about fashion. Not only do you get to show off otherwise-private underwear labels to the world, you get the added thrill of ventilation on your asscrack.

8: Jeans. Expensive. The wigger must wear pants that are a minimum of 40 full sizes over his original size. The legs should be large enough to hold the population of a 3rd world country in, and should drag across the floor freely, like the train on a wedding gown.

9: Sneakers. Don't tell the wigger that his 250 dollar sneakers are made of the same material as Kmart's 25 dollar ones- it's all about fashion, yet again, and to wear anything less than the hottest sneaker out at the moment would be akin to showing up at a black panther meeting wearing a klan hood. In case you were wondering, the wigger has no remorse over the fact that his sneakers were made in a sweatshop by an underage peon laborer who made 2 cents that entire day making the shoes that help the wigger fit in with his materialistic social circle.

10: The city. This is the wigger's preferred habitat. Ignore the fact that they mostly dwell in the suburbs, any decent, upstanding wigger will, AT MINIMUM, have a cardboard cutout of a city skyline in his suburban backyard to stand in front of while posing as a hardened tough guy.

11: They'll be white!

There.  So now you know.

Aw, maybe I haven't lost my sense of humor after all.  (Still, try living with this shit...)

Oh, crap... the irony

My friend Chuck, who passed away on January 25, came to me in a dream last night.  It's such a gift when someone who's passed visits you in a dream.  Ordinarily I'd think that, anyway.  In this dream, I was trying to take a dump and Chuck was standing at the door. (I can imagine the psychological implications behind that one.) Fortunately, I "felt the urge" only my dream--you know how you hear about people who piss the bed because they dreamed there were in the bathroom? Well, thank God that didn't happen!

Speaking of... Shit has been hitting the fan in my house lately. I can't go into detail, only that I have no use for the whole "teenage wigger" culture and everything that goes with it (use your imagination).  Full-time now and there's no end in sight. I've said here before that the worst part of the stepparent role is you have no authority, but let me tell you, there's no fucking way I'm living in a house with rap music, so at least that has stopped. But your pal here in Las Vegas is miserable these days, and I can't even frame it in a way where hey, at least it's funny material for my comedy. Trust me, there's nothing funny about it.  Everything I see disgusts me.

So happy Monday, huh?  Actually, work is a real bright spot (never thought I'd be writing that!).  In fact, I told my boss if he put a cot in my office, I'd probably never leave.  Oh, how life has its twists and turns.

Funny that my last post was, "There is always joy. Always. Somewhere." Not seeing it right now.

There is joy. Always. Somewhere.

Last Friday night I was so full of joy, I could have literally burst. Literally.  Like my guts might have splattered all over walls of the Dallas Events Center in the Texas Station casino.

Why, you ask?  What made me beam brighter than the Luxor light?  Just a little tribute band called Night Fever. A Bee Gees tribute band. I know! Just when you thought, "Could Linda get any cooler?"

You know me and tribute bands--I love them. I think I've seen three different Bruce Springsteen tributes, a few U2, The Rolling Stones, Neil Young... hell, I even dragged Mom and Stepdaddy to a Pink Floyd tribute band in Boise.  Call me queer, but I love live music and how often do you get to hear "Thunder Road" or "Cinnamon Girl" live? Or any song from the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack?

Friday night I was accompanied by my pal Lisa Gioia Acres, and minutes before show time, Lisa being Lisa somehow managed to get us seats up in the second row, which was awesome. Once the band came on, though, I realized the hearing in my right ear, the one closest to the speaker, might seriously be compromised. Since it had already withstood decades of abuse, perhaps most notably from a series of Sonic Youth shows in the late 90s, I decided to rip off a piece of dirty old Kleenex from my pocketbook and wad it up and stick it in my ear.  Attractive. Good thing I'm growing out my hair these days.

Anyway, the show was fantastic! The Bee Gees had a million hits and the very capable band played them all; there was only one song I didn't recognize.  A happy surprise:  I hadn't realized that they wrote "Islands in the Stream," the monster recorded by Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers.  I will kick your ass if you tell anyone, but I freakin' love that song. Love. It.

Anyway, at one point between songs Lisa said something in my ear like, "So which guy in the band would you pick for yourself?" and I was like, "Wow, the rhythm guitar player. How did you know I was playing that game in my head?" If there was any low point of the night (other than paying eight bucks for a Corona), it was a memory I had of being bored to death during a meeting at one of my old jobs and playing the "If somebody had a gun to your head and you HAD to have sex with one of these guys" game.  I looked around the conference table and thought, "Shoot!"   

But we're in happier times now.  Here's a You Tube video someone posted of the Night Fever band from a performance last year (thank you!).  You can see they are awesome.



Every once in a while during the show I'd look back at the crowd and everyone had the same grin as Lisa and I as we all chair-danced in our seats. The scene was just so joyful! The highlight was toward the end when the band played "You Should Be Dancing."  Everybody got up and boogied, and I mean just going nuts, and keep in mind that the average age in the place was about 110. It was so cool. There was a heavy set guy dancing to the right of the stage and let me tell you, he had some moves. Like you know he was the man on the dance floor three and a half decades ago, and probably even now when he goes to a wedding.  Lisa and I were both checking him out and smiling as we danced like it was 1977, both of us so freakin' happy, and at that moment Chuck's death, the tragedies in Boston and Texas, my dear friend's recent cancer diagnosis, and another dear friend who lost his mother earlier that day...  through all that sorrow... there was joy.

There was JOY!!!  All because people decided to share their talents. Am I starting to sound like a broken record? Maybe some day there will be a Linda Lou tribute artist. Then I will know I have made it!

I miss Albany so much, BUT...

It's been almost three months since my friend Chuck's been gone (hard to believe), and with Hazel's birthday yesterday, I especially miss being with my family and friends in Albany.  I would have moved back there years ago if it weren't for the stinkin' weather. 

Oh, the weather!  I mean, here I am poolside last Saturday morning...

 

... and here's my daughter, Courtney, poolside in Albany.

Yeah. I think I know why I love Las Vegas.

Look who's 3!

I know, how bored must you be to actually read about someone else's grandchild, but...

Can you believe Hazel, formerly known as The Most Serious Baby on Earth, is 3 years old today? Oh, humor me!  I have to share these pics I stole from Courtney's Facebook page.

She's getting so tall!  But that's no surprise--her parents are 5'10" and 6'2" or so.

This one is my favorite. Look at that sweet little face in the mirror.

I miss her so much, I could fly back to Albany right this instant.

Happy Birthday, my precious girl!  (And thanks to all of you for indulging me.)

A fantastic performance -- thank you, Arlo!

Last Thursday night Mike and I had the pleasure, and I mean pleasure, of seeing Arlo Guthrie perform in Reynolds Hall at the beautiful Smith Center in downtown Las Vegas.

Waiting for the show to begin

I've always been a fan. I remember seeing Alice's Restaurant in the theater when I was barely old enough to go to the movies with a friend and no chaperone.  I loved it. When I was a kid I wished I'd been born several years earlier so I could be a part of the whole peace and love hippie scene.  (Of course, now I'm just as happy that I was born in 1957, not 1947.) I'm always thrilled when in conversation I make a reference to the Group W bench and someone actually understands what I'm talking about.

One of my favorite scenes in the movie is the one where Arlo visits his father, Woody Guthrie, in the hospital. Pete Seeger serenades the folk hero, who is confined to bed and unable to talk or move due to Huntington's disease. (Woody Guthrie is played by Joseph Boley and Arlo's mother, Marjorie Guthrie is played by Sylvia Davis.)  Take a look here. Sitting through the ad in the beginning is worth it.

I'd seen Arlo perform a couple of times before.   Chris (my first husband) and I took our son Christopher to his first concert--Arlo Guthrie and Pete Seeger at the Saratoga Performing Arts Center.. Christopher was about 5 years old, so it had to have been 1983. I remember he wore a little denim jacket and fell asleep before the show was over.  Then several years later Chris and I saw Arlo again with his band, Shenendoah.

He was a wonderful performer back then and has gotten even better over the years.  His show last Thursday night was perfection; I could have listened to his music and his storytelling all night.  

Arlo today

Oh, his storytelling!  What a gift.  His tales were an entertaining musical history lesson that gave us a privileged glimpse into life as the son of a folk icon. I loved hearing that Woody would cut out newspaper articles that gave him inspiration for songs and later remarked to Mike that I'd just gotten the same advice in a comedy workshop as a means of finding inspiration for jokes.

Arlo talked about the earlier segment of the tour when he got to perform with his children and grandchildren--14 of them on stage at once, I believe he said. He relayed a couple of sweet stories about his wife that pulled at my heart. I'd read that she'd passed away in October; Arlo broke the news to the uninformed by saying, "We celebrated our forty-third anniversary last fall. She was sick and didn't live much past then..." and simply continued on. You kind of had to pay attention to catch it; I thought it was a brilliant way to weave in that sad fact.

Lucky in love

As I sat there, I thought of what it must be like to be with someone for 43 years, enjoying a bunch of children and grandchildren together and entertaining people together throughout the country.  As blessed as my life is, that is something I'll probably never have--over four decades with someone. But I consider myself to be extremely lucky that Chris and I always been on such good terms and that I get to see him and our children play music together now and then.  One of the highlights of my life was last summer when I got to headline on the same stage with the Blackwell Sinners.

Blackwell Sinners and friends

A good concert gives you plenty to think about and stays with you long after the performance is over. Man, I'm so glad we decided to go see Arlo. And one of the thoughts that's been going through my mind is, I'm so glad that he's sharing his talent.

So...how are you sharing yours?