Although I read the book awhile back, I wasn’t at all familiar with the musical.  But oh my word.  Those of you who have seen it know what I’m talking about – this show is so, so good.  It’s funny and poignant and magical, not to mention that those girls can sing like nobody’s business.  I felt embarrassingly lucky to have had the spontaneous chance to see it on the cheap – but apparently not so embarrassed not to tell everyone that I SAW “WICKED” FOR $20.

The food at Bittersweet is overpriced and undersized, but flavorful and worth a Saturday night splurge with girlfriends.

Sunday morning, I went to church and heard a sermon that echoed a lot of my thoughts on why commitment equals freedom.  Saying “yes” to one thing may be saying “no” to a myriad of others – but the longer that we “keep our options open,” the more likely it is that those options pass us by, becoming non-options.  Trust, take a chance, and make a choice – it’s so much more interesting than living passively, waiting for the best case scenario to just show up.

Later on Sunday, I donned my ugliest fleece (it’s gigantic – like, unisex gigantic – and bright orange) and delivered fresh baked goods to a friend.  Nothing was said about the unisex gigantic bright orange fleece.  That’s a good friend, right there.

Last night after dark, I went out and ran 6 miles.  I listened to Sugarland and felt like me.

Allow me to make a declaration: 2012 is so much better than 2011.  Not that it would be at all tough to be better than 2011, but still.  2012 wins.

But maybe you’ll have mercy if I tell you that plenty of life has been going down around these parts.

For starters, my friend Carl (SHOUT OUT) came to Colorado to visit, and stayed at the Hooker House for a few nights (sorry Carl, you probably don’t want that sentence written about you on the internet). Carl is one of my favorite people, and we spent a good deal of time a) talking about life, love, and other mysteries (not this), b) sipping quaffable beverages, and c) watching YouTube videos. This cover of Tracy Chapman’s “Fast Car” is my new favorite thing, and has inspired me to learn the song on guitar myself. I’m getting semi-okay at it.

Speaking of “Fast Car,” I got an $80 speeding ticket in the mail. One of those cameras caught me. Rats.

My friend Greg (SHOUT OUT) plays keys for Allen Stone, and they swung through Denver last week for a show. Holy. Cow. Allen Stone is the most ridiculously soulful singer, born to perform, with one of the greatest voices I’ve heard. If you haven’t heard his stuff, check it out – “Sleep” is a favorite.

The Handy Graham (SHOUT OUT) slept on the couch on Saturday night, and yesterday morning, he, Becca, and I drank coffee, ate eggs, and, well, sang “Fast Car.” Just another morning at the Hooker House.

I’ve never been a fan of a sports team – ever. But the Denver Broncos have won me over. I live three blocks from the stadium, so they’ve never been easy to ignore – but their last couple of games have sealed my interest. I’m paying attention. And as foreign as it feels, I think this makes me a “fan” of something – I mean, other than music and books and food – something sporty.

I will finally, finally be getting my Subaru back today. It’s been 4 weeks since I’ve held the precious steering wheel it in my ever-loving clutches. If anyone ever tries to steal my car again, so help me, I will use my Cuisinart blade against them like a Japanese ninja star.

Tomorrow, I’m telling Denver “peace out” for a few weeks, as I’ll be traveling to Nashville for work and then Kansas City for the holidays. This will be my last trip to Nashville for a long time – stay tuned for some ch-ch-ch-changes.

For the last 1.75 years I have eliminated all sad music from any playlist I can control and axed sad movies. Guess what. IT IS AWESOME. I am all about melancholy, but some seasons require axing all extraneous sadness. I recommend this. You’ll love it. Get trashy movies and books, action and stupidity, and fill extra moments with hilariosity.

I could not agree more.  Last spring, when I was going through the darkest season of my life to date (which, in some ways, continues today), I watched a devastating, raw documentary called “Dear Zachary” that just about did me in.  I cried for days, and walked around with puffy eyes in a dark haze that just wouldn’t lift.  Right then and there, I chose to take a break from sad movies, music, and books.  Life is heavy enough – and while I definitely see a time and a place for sharing our tragedies and our struggles and our heartbreak (because you know I love a good wallow), there are times when we’re just not strong enough for it.

For me, right now, sad stories and words just crush me down, down, down – like a trash compactor*.

So I’ve cleared my Netflix queue of anything dark (aufedersein, Holocaust), and am skipping the sad songs on my iTunes (sayonora, um, most of my music), and have abandoned Steinbeck’s “East of Eden” (for now) in favor of more delightful, fluffy reading.

Here are my recommendations for a few non-sad things to be consumed.

Watching
I am loving “Parenthood” on DVD.  I’ve caught episodes on-and-off over the last couple of years, but I’m starting at the beginning and working my way through.  What great, lovable characters, and relatively true-to-life situations.  For all of my bad boy crushes (Tim Riggins, anyone?), when it comes down to it, I’m just looking for a man like Adam Braverman.

“The Human Experience” is a fantastic documentary about man’s search for meaning.  The filmmakers and their mission completely charmed me.  Soak it up.

And I’m pretty sure that “Being Elmo” is going to be so sweet, so poignant.

Reading
I bought Tina Fey’s “Bossypants” at Target, and trust me: this book will cure whatever ails you.  Except maybe kennel cough.

A few years back, Rod bought me “I’m Down,” and I still laugh when I think about certain parts.

Also, my good friend Annie Downs is currently blogging a 31-day series on courage, and I’m loving it.  Mostly it’s just because I miss Annie Downs all the way to Scotland, which is where she is currently living, and getting a virtual dose of her every day in October is doing my heart good.

Listening
This one’s tough for me, since I’m obsessed with songs that gut me – I am masochism personified.

I have had to curb my repeat-listens of Jill Andrews’ “Sinking Ship,” because oh man, it’s cutting deep.  She has this line that’s like, “You told me lies with your hands and the truth with your lips,” and I’m like, “Oh my word” because she must have read my diary.  And then she says this thing about, “I’m searching, now not finding a better part of me, ’cause I want it back,” and that’s it.  I can no longer function.

So maybe don’t listen to that one.

But definitely listen to “Heart of the World” by Lady Antebellum.

And Sara Groves‘ latest, “Invisible Empires,” is just… so good.  “Open My Hands” is a current favorite track, as well as “Obsolete.”

And you should for sure listen to songs by Marc Scibilia.  I don’t really know how to get your hands on his music, but go on a hunt to find “Something Good in This World” and “How Bad We Need Each Other” and “Ain’t My Home.”  This guy knows what’s up.

What about you – know of anything non-sad that we should check out?

*When I was younger, I SO wanted a trash compactor in the kitchen.  Only our rich friends had them, so I associated the trash compactor with wealth, luxury, and ease.  The moral of the story is: kids, please dream bigger dreams.

And I think… I think that Lori McKenna’s “The Luxury of Knowing” is the best song I’ve ever heard.

I mean it.

Keith Urban’s version isn’t bad, either.  Holy smokes.

[Please forgive YouTube videos - just listen.  And let your heart break.  And then get on with your day.]

Is anyone still here?

If you’re wondering if the iPhone swallowed me, the answer is NO COMMENT.

I spent the weekend in my hometown of Montrose, Colorado.  I went over for a dentist appointment, since Dan Clader, D.D.S., is my longest term relationship to date (22 years).  After last summer’s debacle of ten cavities, I am happy to report that my complicated teeth are holding steady.  Zero cavities, no crowns necessary, keep on keeping on, and I just might keep my own teeth for a few more years.

While I was in Montrose, my friends Cyrus and Peder had a show lined up at a Mexican restaurant-slash-lounge, and asked if I would be the opening act.

LOOK AT THESE GUYS.

They know that I say this in complete love: they are dirty Montrose at its finest.  How could I resist them?

Peder and I bonded over our turquoise accessories – although his being an authentic bolo tie, it was a little bit more ridiculously awesome than my tame Banana Republic flair.  I played 5 songs, and my dear friend Laura sang with me – more on her later this week.  I saw some people that I hadn’t seen in over 10 years.  It made me love Montrose even more than I already did.

You want to know what made me love Montrose EVEN more than that?

The fire dancer.

Oh yes.  Peder plays with the cutest, quirkiest band Cowboy & Indian, and during their set, through the windows behind the band, a Montrose man was feeling the spirit – and set batons aflame.

Proof:

Hazardous?  Bizarre?  Amazing?  Yes, yes, and yes.

Just another night in Montrose, and just another day in my life.

I know.  They’re, like, all the rage these days.  But I don’t even know what they sound like.

Everybody loves them and will probably murder me for not being on the bandwagon already.  Who knows – maybe if I heard them, I would promptly die of love anyway.

Julie tells me that one of my strong suits is the fact that I know what I like, I know what I need, and I know how to say no to things that don’t fall into those categories.  Other people tell me that this makes me a boring, prudish, unenlightened killjoy – but then again, they just promptly earned themselves a place on my List of Things I Don’t Really Like.

Other things on my very short List:
- Watching sports
- Going out to lunch
- The Twitter

But really.  I’m trying to be more OPEN.  Should this list actually be called the List of Things I Don’t Really Like (Even Though Maybe I Should)?  Tell me the truth.  I’ll believe you.

And if you tell me to listen to Mumford & Sons, I’ll do it. You have the power.

They are ridiculous.

I know I love country music, but Earworm makes me want to be a pop star SO BAD.

Check them out – 2007, 2008, 2009, and as of this week, 2010.

No better way to ring in the new year – that is, aside from celebrating Mel & Jesse’s wedding tonight.  I’ll be in a silver dress and sparkly heels.  It’s my last night in Nashville before pointing my wheel west tomorrow, and driving for one million miles back to Denver.

[I just read that sentence out loud to Julie, and she, in all seriousness, asked, "Is it really one million miles to Denver?"  The sweetie.]

And not to set all of you ON EDGE for my entire one million mile drive, but this week, while idling at stop lights, the Honda has started smelling like burned rubber.  Diagnoses?  My suspicion is that the clutch is going out – and if that were the case, should I… not drive away tomorrow?

Check back in 2011 to find out what has become of me.

I’ve been listening to her song “Iowa City” on repeat this week.  It’s good, y’all.  Real good.

There are these two other girls in Nashville that I don’t know, but I wish that I did, because I’m pretty sure we would get along smashingly.  If you want to hear some great music, check out Sara Beth Geoghegan’s “Tired of Singing Sad Songs” and Emily DeLoach’s “The Lucky Ones.”

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Merry Christmas Eve Eve.  I’ve switched to morning workouts, and haven’t worn a stitch of makeup since Sunday.

That’s all of my news.  Do YOU have any news?

The only thing that I don’t understand is her dating life.  From the songs that she writes, roughly 50% of her time is spent kissing boys on the sidewalk in the rain.  The other 50% of her time is spent locking eyes with boys across the room at parties with twinkling lights.  Is this what my life should look like?

I AM A MISERABLE FAILURE.

Guilty non-pleasure
Last weekend, I finished the “Twilight” series.  It took me over a year, because the entire process was so painful.  I don’t know why I kept reading – mostly because I just decided to, and once I decide to do something, it’s hard to convince me otherwise.

There are so many things that bother me about these books, the least of which being the “heroine” (can we call her that?), Bella Swan.  A vapid shell of a girl, she offers nothing good on her own – and Stephenie Meyer allows the hot, capable, super-powered Edward to be her only saving grace, literally.

It’s totally pathetic.

Then again, I contributed $10 for each of the 4 paperbacks to advance the vampirific cause, so I guess I should just shut my mouth.

I did the Decalibron – that is, I climbed Democrat, Cameron, Lincoln, and Bross, all mountains over 14,000 feet high.  I don’t know that I have a goal of climbing all 54 of the Colorado 14ers, but with 12 down, I’m well on my way.

- – - – - – - -

On Sunday, I bought a piano.  I know I’m only 36 hours in, but I am absolutely giddy over this new acquisition.  For the last two nights, I’ve stayed up playing it for hours.  It’s a necessity for getting ready to record some demos when I’m in Nashville in December.

That’s right, folks: new songs are on their way.  I’m stoked (yes, I said it: STOKED) about sharing them – even if a few aren’t entirely finished yet.  Nothing like a deadline.

- – - – - – - -

I’m pretty sure that my life these days could be summed up this way:

“You climb a mountain because it’s there; you write a song because it’s not.”  -Jon Foreman