Sprite's Keeper

'If they asked me, I could write a book.." *

"You like Harry Connick Jr?"

My eyes met his as he settled into the passenger side of my green Ford station wagon, the music from my Imagination CD pumping out when I turned the key in the ignition.

"Yes?" I responded, uncertain if my musical taste would turn him off. "Do you want me to change it?"

"No, I love his music." He smiled and began listing his favorite songs. I relaxed. This first date was going to go well. I just knew it.

*******

Yes, I drove the night of our first date. John's old red Sunfire was already coughing out its last requests for a proper burial (sponsored by Penzoil) and has long since been scrapped so it may forever rust in peace. (Considering the metal had been deteriorating to the point that the passenger had to sit with their legs spread to avoid going through the growing hole in the floor, it's probably enjoying a second life right now as a planter.) (Gah, I actually miss that old piece of shit.) (No I don't.)

As soon as he heard the opening notes of "We Are In Love" and told me he was also a fan, we shook off the preliminary jitters that getting to know someone can cause, and began a game of "Who loves his music more?". I won. (I had the unauthorized biography and a photographic memory. John was simply no match for my recollection of dates and album releases.) (Looking back now, I guess I can admit I cheated since I omitted the fact that I was in possession of the trump card.) (And he did steal back the glory since he can easily plunk out any Harry song on the piano, his ear of music is that attuned.) (Meh, we're even.)

Since then, we have collected albums as they were released, snatched up tickets whenever Harry made his way into the Fort Lauderdale/ Miami arenas, and just enjoyed listening to his jazzy music.

We even named our dog Harry after the man himself. (Although, to the terrier's credit, he had two coats of hair, one wiry and one soft, since he was a mixed Yorkie/ Rat breed, and the moniker just seemed perfect for him at the time, but the crooner was an influence.)

In fact, if you really want to get technical and TMI about it, I would go on record to say that Harry Connick Jr's "Learn To Love" is personally responsible for Sprite. (John had a big part in it, but the catalyst was Harry.) (Hm, that last part may land me in hot water.)

This last November, John called me with some news just as I was debating whether or not I would be able to afford a trip to Nashville for Blissdom, 2010. Harry was coming in concert to our town. Our little town! We immediately jumped at the chance to see his show, something we hadn't been able to do since 2004. Blissdom lost to a concert.

Irony, being so good at being so bad, didn't let me in on her dirty little secret until a few weeks ago when Stiletto Momslipped the news that Harry was making a personal appearance at Blissdom. Not only were the attendees getting a show, they were going to share oxygen with him, and pictures, and laughs, and inside jokes and I need to stop now..

My heart may have broken a little. In theory.

I can no longer keep up the sad charade of missing out on meeting the man when the man I want to experience it all with wouldn't be there with me. While I passed on seeing Stiletto and Vodkamom and many other wonderful bloggers, and yes, meeting someone who has been such a key ingredient in the atmosphere of my romantic memories, I knew that come the night of the concert, my decision would have been the right one.

That night is here.

Tonight, John and I will celebrate Valentine's Day a little early, and on a school night no less, listening to the very soundtrack that has been playing for as long as we've loved each other.

Tonight is ours, John. And so is he.

*The title is our wedding song from the soundtrack to "When Harry Met Sally", fully composed by Harry Connick Jr. If you've ever heard the song before, you'll know it was quite difficult to dance to a number with tempo changes, but we somehow made it. Eight years later, we're still dancing.

JONAS BROTHERS!!!!!!

Did I get your attention?

Okay, please don't throw stones, but I am not a fan of the Jonas Brothers. (Actually, my teenage cousin is, and I've called them the Jonasty Brothers when in earshot, because A. she's a teenager, B.I'm an adult, and C. I can. ) (If she knew about this blog, she would probably comment in several one word sentences punctuated with acronyms like OMG! and ROFLMAO!  because she would think that was cool, and I'm sorry, but thinking back to the birthday post, my teenage years were so much cooler than the representation I saw when I hung out with her and her "kind" back during the "Weekend of Oy". In fact, in my age, we didn't even have blogs! We didn't have cell phones! We didn't even have text messaging! We had pagers! Remember how cool you were, walking the high school corridors with your pagers attached to your jeans, in a hot orange or green color to enhance the pager-ness of it all?) (Wow, how am I going to reel this back in? )

Jonas Brothers!

(That worked.)

Anyway, a marketing firm working with American Eagle Outfitters and 77kids contacted me to ask if I would post some information about this sweepstakes they're running in which they will fly a lucky kid and his/her parent to Los Angeles for a private concert with the Jonas Brothers. Not only that, they'll put you up in a hotel, let you walk the red carpet, and then hang out backstage with the Brothers themselves so you can see up close and personal just how they get their hair to stay like that. (Seriously, wondering over here. As you'll soon know, I have serious hair issues.)

So here's the deal:

Go to this site to enter for your chance to win. (Commenting here will not enter you in the contest, but it will win you some points in my lonely blogging heart. *sigh*)

And...

That's it.

Kind of anti-climatic, huh? It's that easy!

I wanted to check out the clothes and prices on the 77kids clothes since I'm always on the hunt for a good deal when it comes to Sprite and her ever stretching stature, but the collection won't be available online until October 21, 2008. So, I'll go second best and quote the email I received directly to give you an idea of what the line will entail:

"The concert event celebrates the launch of a new line of kids clothing
from American Eagle. The 77kids collection will be available online at
www.77kids.com beginning Tuesday, October 21. The debut assortment
includes a warm and cozy collection of denim, fleece, t-shirts, dresses,
outerwear, footwear and accessories. All 77kids items are extremely soft,
comfortable and long wearing."

Sounds great. Can't wait to see the product. And if they want to throw a few samples my way... (female, size 3T-4T, lightweight for Florida weather, leans toward pink and green, answers to the name of Sprite) then I won't complain!

So, get thee to the site and enter to meet the Jonas Brothers and be the hero in your kid's life! Or just win it, pretend you paid for it, and give your kid a massive guilt trip guaranteed to buy you at least a couple of years of good behavior. Either way, it's a win!

(Editor's Note: I was not paid in money or in samples for my plug. I just received an email from someone whose links were genuine and I thought if any of my readers like the Jonas Brothers or have a kid who is nuts about them, I would give you guys the in. So, good luck, I hope you win, and if you do, report back on the hair issue.) (Seriously!)

A Place Where Nobody Dared To Go..

I know I wasn't quite ten, but I knew what love was.

His name was Sonny Malone. He was a rebel, an artist, a dreamer. He was a master on wheels and wore those red jogger shorts and that red koi fish shirt like no one's business. I worshiped him. But he only had eyes for Kira. (That bitch.)

Okay, stop rolling your eyes. And "Don't walk away." This will be good.

Beth Hering over at Momformation wrote this post about "Grease" and its 30 year anniversary which brought back memories of my childhood and the outlandish stuff I used to sigh over.

"Grease" was a definite favorite. I now own the Anniversary Edition with the Jacket over the cover and everything, but it made me remember another movie which ties into my afore-mentioned crush.

I loved "Xanadu" as a kid. Every time it came on tv, my sister and I were in front of it, memorizing the lines, trying to pin down Olivia Newton-John's somewhat ambiguous accent. We practiced dancing to it in our living room, usually with me picking Lee up and twirling her (on demand). (Yeah, that. Lee Ann may have been older, but I was stronger. Her hair weighed more than she did.) We sang the songs. We dreamed about naming our future daughters Kira. (No, that's not Sprite's real name.) (..You were wondering.)

We drove our parents crazy with reciting lines and pestering my dad to replace the needle on the record player to the beginning of certain songs so we could hear them again. (My dad was anal about his stereo and would rather hear the same drek again and again than the telltale scratch of a certain minor about to be grounded for daring to move the sacred needle.)

We owned the VHS to this movie and "Grease" and both got more play than any other movie in the collection. (And VHS was expensive back then. A collection of 5 raised eyebrows. 500 these days would be status quo. 5,000 would be worrisome as people would be wondering what you really do with your time.) 

I loved the music and still remember every word to the songs. There was just something so perfect about the synthesizers, the magical romance, the roller skating, the "Glitz", and the entire genre it represented. It was camp! It completely captured the feeling of my youth and the self-centeredness of the early 80's. I didn't pay attention to the obvious innuendos. Those went over my head and I was happily ignorant as I focused on the Love Conquers All story with a somewhat happy ending. And I would wander away from the movie, satisfied that love (kind of) prevailed in this twisted world of rock'n'roller skates and satisfied that my barrettes with their streaming ribbons were still properly fastened in my disappointedly brunette hair as I fastened up my Strawberry Shortcake skates (Stop laughing!) and tried to recreate the "Magic" scene with dialogue and everything.

I sometimes think back to those days with such nostalgia, it almost makes me weepy. I was able to throw myself into the story lines so effortlessly. These days, it takes more effort and concentration, but I can sometimes still imagine myself skating along at the rink with "Suddenly" blasting through the speakers and the neon lights sparkling above my head as my left leg balances on those moving wheels while my right leg pushes back and up and then I am Kira, barrettes and all, flowing tattered skirts, leggings over my skates, gliding towards my Sonny (or the boy about to wipe out in front of me) and all was right with my world. (Don't worry. These hallucinations don't last too long these days. I'm okay.)

I hadn't seen the movie since I hit the teen years, although I had John download the music onto his I-pod a while back just to hear ELO rock those synthesizers again. I still yearn for it sometimes. It makes me feel like "I'm alive."

I held that movie in high regard for many years until my mother gave me a DVD copy of it. I sat down to watch it one night, heavily pregnant with Sprite. I tried to make John sit for it, but he turned tail as soon as he realized singing and roller skates were more than just passing references in this movie. So, I was alone. And I watched. While I was impressed with my memory of entire scenes of dialogue (Especially, the "Tuesday's Wednesday" speech. Anyone else remember that?), I was also surprised that I overlooked so much of the obvious bad acting and over-the-top plot lines that made this movie everything it was. I found myself fast forwarding to the musical numbers just to relive those particular scenes like Gene Kelly in "Whenever you're away from me". I ended my viewing session wishing I had never seen it again, that I had just listened to the soundtrack and preserved my memory of those days when my sister and I fought over who got to be Kira and who was forced to be Muse # 3.

I wonder if my own daughter will someday wax poetic about movies like "High School Musical". (Yikes.) Will I be forced to hear the same songs over and over again? Will I be forced to memorize lines with her until I'm repeating them in my sleep?...You know, now that I think about it, I probably owe my parents an apology for all that torture I put them through with the endless repeats of these movies. (Does Hallmark make such a card?)