How'd it get to be November?

And when did I stop writing?

Well, it's certainly been an very eventful year, and looks as though it's going to go on being eventful. I wonder what 2011 will bring. It's always promising to look forward and wonder.

Endless possibilities.

I got a job as a graphic designer at a very nice place to work. (Then Pap passed. I flew to Florida for a bittersweet reunion with my mom's side of the family.) I graduated with honors. My graduation speech was by none other than Harry Benson (legendary photographer whose impressive portfolio includes images of every icon and historical figure of the last 50 years or so-including The Beatles; you know dang well I shook his hand when walked for the diploma).

http://www.harrybenson.com/

I was then whisked away to The Magic Kingdom where Jeremy asked me to marry him. It could not have been a more perfect celebration. His birthday and my graduation, topped off by a lovely family dinner with my aunt, uncle, grandmother, my cousins, and Jeremy's mom and children.

Intermittently, I played shows with SuNDay Morning: No Doubt Tribute. Hard Rock, Altar, Summer shows outdoors. Looked to play bigger venues, more festivals, private events, parties, and corporate shows.

Enjoyed my first laid-back summer. Went to a baseball game. Went to the zoo. Had Sunday cookouts at my dad's. Grilled meals on the back porch. The summer went by very quickly. At the end of August, my job required more projects of me, and tighter deadlines. And Jeremy's schedule has also been incredibly demanding, although rewarding. He's full-time at Point Park this year. He had a part in the World Premier of Umbrella Man, choreographed the COPA production of Thoroughly Modern Millie, and this week stars in Groucho: A Life in Revue.

That's a lot of late nights for a Jerebear and a lot of hanging with the kiddies on my part.

The kiddies are great. Really, the best kids I know. So sweet. So funny. So smart. It can be exhausting to cater to little people, but the make it as easy as it could ever be. They are a delight. I am tired at the end of our day, but I am happy.

No Clout, a Florida-based No Doubt Tribute picked me up as their singer in October, and we played a breast cancer benefit at a nudist resort! It was a great experience. The band is solid, and they're good people. Fun to be around. And of course I like to travel. Hopefully the ink dries soon on our next endeavor. And hopefully the Jerebear can join us.

Looking forward to this season. Things at work remain busy as usual, but I continue to learn a lot and improve as a designer. Some weeks are hard and some are easy. Jerebear and I strive to meet up for lunch and dinner as we see so little of each other during the week. I've been taking the liberty to go to the PNC YMCA-which I love! And it's keeping me in shape for sure.

This weekend begins the Christmas season. Jeremy's folks are coming in to see him in Groucho. The kids are going to go to Light Up Night. We're having a pre-Thanksgiving dinner while they're here. And then Thanksgiving at my dad's next week. After Groucho, the Jerebear will be home again. No more late nights! Weekends with him will be so wonderful.

And of course, we have a wedding to plan. :)

A Visit from Pap

I awoke this morning to Jeremy snuggling me and telling me that I had been laughing in my sleep. I immediately got teary-eyed, because I'd been dreaming about my Pap. I had actually dreamed many crazy things last night, but the very last dream I had, (after having woken up and fallen back to sleep around about a quarter to seven), was that I was in Florida with my Gram, and my Pap was back. Just for one day. And it was silently understood that it was just for one day.

Gram got out the back of a black car to meet me, coming out behind her was my Pap! It was kind of like a silent movie, for the most part, as all the talking was more of a telepathic communication combined with visual facial expression, but there was complete understanding. He got out of the back seat of the car, looking much like he used to when I last saw him well, but so refreshed, clean, rejuvenated, and. . .happy. He was calm and happy, and aware of life in a whole sense. Like he'd been away somewhere where he'd learned all he'd ever wanted to know, and was now fulfilled and content with himself and everyone around him.

I looked at Gram, as if to say, "Can you believe this? Pap is standing here with us looking GREAT!", and Gram gave me a knowing look as if to say, "well, of course he is", and "this is temporary". I was thrilled to see Pap look so relaxed and at ease, and serene. He was smiling, a closed-mouth, peaceful smile. His eyes were smiling, more than anything else. He was wearing a light blue ball cap and a collared plaid short-sleeved shirt, a light cotton dress shirt. I'm not sure about his pants, but they were light blue, too, I think.

The middle part us a blur, but just to see Pap get around so easily, (he was so strong and healthy) brought me so much joy. He moved like he did when he was still playing Senior Softball. Agile, quick, able to help Grandma get around. He was there for her, too, I could tell. That's why he'd come. And I was simply the lucky sidekick. I was allowed to be there for this, and I was grateful for it. Because I knew his time was limited.

The last thing I remember is Gram and Pap and I were in a small room, and I was having to say goodbye. I stood up, (Pap is a tall man) and I got to HUG him. And I wasn't sad at all. And he was being funny, and I was laughing. And I can't remember exactly what I said to him, but I told him I would miss him, and that I was happy to have visited with him again. And then he was gone. And it was just me and Gram in the small room. And Gram wasn't sad at all, either. She was going about her daily chores, talking about Pap, rolling her eyes at his quirks, and his silly self, and just going about her day as usual. And this made me laugh, too. And then, I woke up.

So thanks, Pap. It's good to know you're all better now. Thanks for visiting with me. I'll see you on the flipside. Until then, please feel free to visit me anytime. . .as long as I am sleeping. (Otherwise you might just scare the crap out of me.) Love you.

Corny

Pap and Me, Christmas 2007

As late as it is, and as much as I have to do, I should be getting ready for bed, but I cannot rest until I've paid my respects to my Pap Dasch who passed away this morning around 8AM in sunny Florida.

He had moved down to Florida almost a year ago with my Gram (who I love dearly), to escape the cold, be nearer to my aunt and her children, and get some much-needed care for his ailing self.

He'd gotten quite frail over the last two years. I never quite got used to it, for he'd always been active, even into his seventies. He'd won a silver medal for table tennis in a senior olympics, had made occasional trips up to Pittsburgh from Maryland to visit friends and family, and had played on a seniors only softball league.

He was a character. He'd struggled with his mood his whole life, and it ultimately got the best of him. In spite of his faults, he'd always treated me well, making me laugh, even at his infamous stubbornness.

In his youth he'd played piano (or so I'd been told), and once I actually got to see it. I'd spent many summer visits (during my grade school years) banging on Gram and Pap's out of tune Yamaha upright piano. I loved it. Gram never minded my creative banging, (or so she led me to believe), and I thought for sure she was an honest and true fan of my "song-writing". Pap would ultimately come in from someplace during one of my piano sessions, and snarl, "banging", and shaking his head at my efforts. This became a regular event for anytime I chose to play the piano.

One day, (and only one day), while I'd been "banging" he actually had motioned for me to step aside, at which time he chose to cut loose on the piano with a Boogie-Woogie that would have made Jerry Lee Lewis proud. Then he got up and left. And I never saw him play that piano again. But he continued to tolerate my banging. I guess the music lover in him decided he could tolerate such creative experiments, even from a child.

Pap was also very funny, mostly not because he said funny things, (well, ok, he did say funny things),but because he dared to say many things that were only funny to him, thus cracking himself up in the process. The man was, as my father would refer to him, "a howl".

No one is perfect. I wonder how his childhood shaped him. I wonder how long he struggled with certain things. I wonder why he chose not to amend certain things before his passing. I wonder where he is now. I know he liked Julie Andrews, Karen Carpenter, and Nat King Cole.

There were high school years where he and my Gram came to many of my school concerts and shows. On one occasion they came to hear my high school choir sing at the courthouse in downtown Bel Air (Maryland). On the walk back to school, I could see my Pap waving at me from across the street where he and Gram had parked, yelling to me, "CORNY! CORRRRRRNY!", (which is what he always called me), and the girls with whom I was walking, having misheard him, answered back to him, "Good morning, good morrrrrrning!".

They came to see my shows on the riverboats, at Kennywood, Busch Gardens, too. They came to Glen Burnie to La Fontainebleu. Pap enjoyed good, old-fashioned entertainment. I loved that he and Gram could come to so many things. It made me happy.

His name was William, "Bill" Dasch (very German). He was married to my Gram, Mary Dasch (Davis) of Verona, PA. They had four children: My aunt Marilyn, my aunt Kathy, my mom, Lucy, and my aunt Patti. Marilyn has a son, John (who still lives in Verona, PA), my mom has myself and my half-brother, Will. Aunt Kathy has a son, Daniel and a daughter, Anne Claire. Patti has triplets (two boys and a girl), Tristan, Nathan, and Olivia.

For a very long time, my grandma and pap were MY grandma and pap. I didn't have to share them with anyone, (because I was the only grandchild around for quite some time) and I spent many enjoyable, and memorable summer days and nights on their back porch in Verona, (really Penn Hills) PA. Daniel and Anne Claire have gotten to know Gram and Pap very well, as they all lived in the Baltimore area within driving distance from each other for quite some time. Now Tristan, Nathan, and Olivia (who live in Orlando) will get to know Grandma like I do. They will never know the Pap I knew, a much younger Pap. But they will remember him in their own special way.

Love on Grandma for me, kids. Love her LOTS.

Pap, you'll be missed.

Life According to Mel

My best friend of the past 13 years is Mel. She has been my confidant, my rock, my support group, my therapist, my barrel of laughs, and also my cast mate on many tours and road trips.

I am an honorary member of her family.

And today I offer a few glimpses into The World: According to Mel.

Me: (Someone we know) is going to the doctor's to be checked out by Dr. House. (Meaning our friend was going to be seen by a super-duper awesome diagnoser. I also know there is no such word as Diagnoser. )

Mel: That is great. She deserves a great doctor like House. And while we're on the subject, House is foxy. Almost as Foxy as Will Ferrell.

Me: Yeah, okay, I see the attraction of genius, I guess. And I see the attraction to funny-men. I, personally, had a thing for Conan O'Brien in the year 2000. (And by that I actually mean the year, not the comedic bit known by the same name.) You LOVE Will Ferrell. You LOVE him.

Mel: Will Ferrell is foxy, but he's still no David Letterman. (I laugh because she means this. She absolutely means every word of this.) People say they're aghast that David Letterman had an affair, but c'mon. Look at him! He's DAVID LETTERMAN! (At this point, I cannot breathe. I am laughing too hard.)

Me: "Look at him, he's DAVID LETTERMAN"! Ahahahahahahahahaha!!! Bret Michaels I could imagine. . .but you say DAVID LETTERMAN like he's Tom Cruise or Jude Law or Justin Timberlake or something. Or someone who's even mildly attractive. . .

Mel: And speaking of Will Ferrell, by the way, I was thinking that if Ben Roethlisberger had a movie made about him, Will Ferrell should play him.

Me: I WAS THINKING THAT, TOO! I am always thinking that!!!

Mel: (My husband) laughed when I mentioned it to him. Ben's in his twenties and Will Ferrell's in his forties. . .

Me: I don't care! It would be too funny!!!

Mel: I KNOW!

Let me also mention that Mel has three kids.

Mel: (Changing the subject) I like to shop at Giant Eagle. Because 1. They have an Eagle's Nest, and 2. They have a Starbucks. The older kids can play and the baby can just ride in the cart, and I get a Starbucks and it's great.

Me: The World According to Mel: Number One. David Letterman is a Sexy Beast, (only second to Will Ferrell). Number Two. Shop at Giant Eagle. They have an Eagles Nest and a Starbucks. Did you happen to notice you didn't mention that Giant Eagle is an excellent store for groceries?

Mel: Well, I hate shopping for groceries. You know that!

Me: I just find it funny that your two main reason to go to Giant Eagle have nothing to do with buying groceries.

Mel: Well. . .

And there we have it ladies and gents. The World, (so far), According to Mel.

The End

Sunday Morning

Many of you know that I moonlight as the Gwen in a No Doubt tribute called Sunday Morning. It's mainly for our sheer enjoyment, you know. We take our performance seriously, but not ourselves, if that makes sense. I certainly don't want to be one of those performers who thinks she's the second coming of Mrs. Rossdale live and in the flesh. No, no. That would be weird and strange.

We do it for a laugh. It's great fun to sing those songs and jump about and have crowds of people singing along, knowing it's nothing more than a feel-good show. I don't take to people asking, "how's your band?". I wince at the thought of calling a tribute show a "band", because a band makes their own music. A show, however, entertains.

Not to slight the musicianship of its members. The people that make up the cast of Sunday Morning are talented musicians in their own right, and make wonderful strides independently in jazz, punk, pop, and rock. And they're good people. We have a lot of fun onstage with one another, and people can see it, which is why, I think, our shows go over well with audiences.

I am looking forward to some summer shows for the group. We love playing outside. Last year we did a show with Blake Lewis of American Idol at Station Square and drew a diverse family crowd of about 1500. We recently did a show with a Sublime Tribute from California (40 Oz to Freedom) at the Hard Rock Cafe which delivered unto us a Hella Good audience.

We get a kick out of it, and people get a kick out of us. Mission accomplished.

www.myspace.com/sundaymorningnodoubttribute

Last Day in Phone Land

As of this moment, I have 30 minutes left to my current job. It's been good to me. When jobs were scarce, it came along and helped me financially squeak by while I got through school. I am still finishing school. In fact, I have about 10 weeks of school left, to be precise. 10 weeks of full-time school, while I begin 10 weeks of full-time job.

I couldn't have been more fortunate. I have been working as a customer service representative for a large arts organization in Pittsburgh for the past 2 years. What are the odds that a postion for a graphic artist would present itself through an inter-office email? So, after scrambling to put together promotional package (in lieu of my unfinished portolio which will be in production over the next 10 weeks of school), and after several interviews and a long wait, I am content and pleased as punch to say that was offered the job. And I start on Monday.

I cannot stress enough how blessed and lucky I feel to have had such good fortune. But, as Oprah Winfrey once said, "Success is preparation meeting opportunity", and I believe there's something to that. I will work as hard in my new position (learning a ton, I'm sure, along the way), as I did (and currently do, actually) in school.

The pressure is off for graduation. Making the "perfect" portfolio, having the "perfect" promotional materials, giveaways, etc. What I provide will still be my best, it will be adequate, and classy, and enough. I don't have to stress myself out in attempts to lure prospective scouts to my display, sweating how long it will take me to find a job after graduation. Thank you, God. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Wow. Thanks.

I can start paying student loans. (This is going to suck, but I'll deal.) I can go to the doctor, the dentist, the chiropractor. I can buy shoes when the old ones wear out.

It's a great feeling.

Junk

Buy, buy
Says the sign in the shop window
Why, why
Says the junk in the yard

-Junk, Paul McCartney

I just spent a good chunk of time straightening the garage again. I say again, because the contents seem to multiply every few weeks or so. A lot of it seems to be just "stuff". And stuff is not healthy.

Here's what happens to "stuff".

A. You actually use it, and give the stuff a purpose.

B. You don't, and it either collects dust, or gets broken because it's squeezed in with so much other stuff, or you forget what you have. And that's just silly. That's when you end up buying an item to replace the one you forgot you had, (or misplaced because your stuff is poorly labeled). And what do you have then? Latshaw's Dungeon, that's what. Or you're living like a hoarder except in a more civilized manner.

If I don't think I have a use for it, I don't buy it. My priorities are simple as I am still in school, working with a teency-weency budget. But even when I had a salary, I really only got what I needed. I like keeping it simple. I like to know where my things are, and I like cleaning house when I discover what I no longer need, it's therapeutic. Off to the Goodwill or Salvation Army or trashman. Bye-Bye!

I buy food, gas, I pay my bills as they come. My splurges are generally a mocha to keep me focused when I am running on too little sleep, and a snack when I am on-the-run. (And I know how much I am affected my a lack of sleep. It's not good. I turn into a space-cadet. I feel that the mocha, although an obviously overpriced drink, is in many circumstances, a necessity for me to perform well, without embarrassment. Trust me.)

I am looking forward to buying groceries and paying my bills without feeling guilty. That's what it's been like for me while I've been in school. (Aside from the Six Flags gig. . .that helped me out exponentially for a few months in 2008.) It'll be great to be able to work with a real budget again. I will also live frugally, though. I don't see why one wouldn't want to live frugally. I think it's a smart way of making your dollars stretch farther. I don't know. I just enjoy the simple things.

That's not to say that quality doesn't cost, of course it does. And I don't like to skimp on quality. But I would rather live in a modest, adequate, smart (meaning, structurally sound and safe) house that costs a little less, but allows me to experience life than throw my money away on the biggest house, the coolest car, or whatever the impressive thing IS at the moment in our society, and have to skimp on affording life experiences.

But I have always been an under-the-radar outside-the-box thinker. I'm not one of those people who is wayyyyyy out there. I make sense, for the most part, as long as I'm making an educated decision about something. I think logically. I'm a catagorizer and a sorter. I am always trying to live a better, healthier, more sensible life than I did yesterday. Now my new job will put me back on track with a lot of who I am, being than I've always been a very independent soul, who has always felt a calm in knowing she could provide adequately for herself.

But don't think for a minute that my modest house wouldn't be clean, hip, and stylish. (Those of you who know me well know to think such an idea would be preposterous!) To IKEA, at the speed of light: Let's make us a hipster house! Some elegance, some modernism, some romance. Clean lines, coordinates, smart storage devices. I could spend a whole day in that store. I'd love to transport just one of the rooms on their floor instantly into my dwelling place.

I also love gift-giving. I've been poorly represented in my gift-giving and ability to surprise loved ones and friends since embarking on my studies and going back to school. Christmases have been particularly dreadful for me, as I am the Drummer Boy with No Gift to Bring, Pa-Rum-Pum-Pum-Pum. It's an awful feeling not to present yourself as you ideally do in these situations, even though "everyone understands". It's such a joy to pick out a gift for someone and to give it to them. I am looking very much forward to this Christmas! I am generally very much a "get them something you know they very much want" or "can very much use".

Why, why, says the Junk in the yard?

Currently, I am a lover of experiences and you'll find me wanting to get out and do things. I love learning and I love going to new places. I like history a lot, and biographies. I like hearing stories about things that actually happened. I like music, art, literature, film, dance. I am looking forward to continuing to season my life with meaning and feeding my spirit. Once you stop doing that, you die inside. . .which is why Peter Pan never wanted to grow up, you know. When you can have adventure, why would you want anything else?

That's not to say that down time isn't important. It's essential. But balance is even more essential. So here's to a life of balance. In a balanced life, you're not buying into buying the stuff in the shop window, and there's never any junk in your yard.

Ahhhhhh. To breathe.