Top Five Best Songs to Blow-Dry Hair To

I have a lot of hair. It takes a lot of time to blow it dry. I prefer to blow-dry my hair whilst listening to music [with earbuds, of course--otherwise, I'd have blasted out the stereo system by now (we don't have a stereo system)], and the best songs are ones that are at least 8 minutes long. By then, my hair is almost dry.

These are the best long songs that I have found work immensely well, whether I'm getting ready for bed or getting ready for school:

5. The Rolling Stones' "You Can't Always Get What You Want": 7 minutes, 30 seconds
This song rocks, and you almost can't appreciate it unless you are blow-drying your hair because it so long. I've always liked this song, but I didn't love it until I heard it open the beginning scenes to The Big Chill, this wild and sketchy film with Glenn Close, Jeff Goldblum, Kevin Kline, Kevin Costner, and few other big names. I don't recommend the film to some of you who read this blog because it is a bit off-color in scenes, but when I saw it, I was struck. It's about a group of friends who get back together after many years because one of their circle had died: the whole funeral meet-up plot. I love that kind of crap. I'm probably the most sentimental person I know (I need a whole other blog post to vent about what strange tensions lay just in changing my name from Gilliland to Grover. And I love the name Grover!). All of the tensions and solutions in the film both blew my mind and melted my heart. I am a sucker for any film about companionship and kindred blood soul-siblings. Plus, the film track is stellar; the film also turned me onto The Band's "The Weight," another favorite since. Anyway, "You Can't Always Get What You Want" is charged with the feelings that film sprouted in me, and I can't help but sing for all of my blood brothers when I dry my hair to this song.


4. The Grateful Dead's "Box of Rain": 5 minutes, 17 seconds
Okay, this one isn't perfect because it isn't long enough. Confession: I can't listen to this song without listening to it again right afterward. This, to me, is an almost completely perfect song. I love it. I hippie-dance to it. I take headbands or belts and wrap them around my damp forehead and twirl myself in the bathroom until I can't untangle myself from the blowdryer cord. It makes me feel like I'm a senior in high school in 1968, and it's summertime, and it's sunset, and I'm in the dirt and grass and under big old trees with all my hippie friends. It's sunlight in my eyes, it's grass-stains on my knees, cotton candy in my mouth, dirty sneakers on my feet, leather bracelets and tanned bodies and fishing and long, long drives down the endless highway.
(Sometimes you can just let the American Beauty album run and finish your hair with either "Friend of the Devil" or "Sugar Magnolia" but neither of them are nearly as excellent as "B. of R.")


3. Steely Dan's "Deacon Blues": 7 minutes, 33 seconds
I can't get enough Steely Dan these days. My favorite song these days is "Bodhisattva"--it's killer good and wildly gypsy-like. I think Rock Band might have stolen it and prostituted it out, but it's still hugely brilliant and stellar. It sat on my iTunes for a year or two before I listened to it completely and slapped my face for having taken so long to discover it. But, what am I doing. I'm talking about "Deacon Blues." So, it's a little depressing in lyrics, but it's completely dance-worthy. It's grooving, moving, hip-shaking; just try to dry your hair to it and not start stepping from side-to-side and doing a little microphone action with your hair straightener or razor. It's the trumpets that kill me, I think. Soul-reaching.


2. Meat Loaf's "Paradise by the Dashboard Light": 8 minutes, 26 seconds
This was a definite favorite during my Utah State blow-drying days. It is the best ever to lip sync to, both the girl and boy parts. It was extra great in my last apartment at Utah State because I lived in the basement and could sing as loud as I wanted and no one could hear me from the third floor. It's a bit sexy, but it is also jammin'. It's good for cold mornings, because the dramatic facial expressions the lip syncing induces help warm up the cheeks. Meat Loaf at his most epic.
(For moodier, angrier mornings, I suggest M.L.'s "Life is a Lemon and I Want My Money Back." It's more hysterical than it is angry, but sometimes you just don't care. You want to shout! With furrowed eyebrows!)

1. Neil Young's "Cowgirl in the Sand": 10 minutes, 6 seconds.
This pearl is not only long and poignant, it's super groovy to hippie-dance to. I can't not gyrate my hips in low, slow flower-girl rhythms. With the hot air blowing back my hair, I can't help but feel like I'm dancing on a field of waving grasses and sand next to a gray-blue sea, in the sun. I am the cowgirl in the sand. It definitely makes for some all-time favorite hair-drying experiences.

O'Brien, Obama, Oh Baby

And that's written in legitimate pen, friends; you can see where the signatures bled through a little on the back of the cardstock.

It's a great month for mail for the Grover clan! Despite the guffaws and eye-rollings of my family as David and I addressed our extra wedding announcements to our favorite celebrities and personal heroes, our postage stamps and extra envelopes licked have finally borne fruit, and I declare the fruit to be good. The two weeks before our wedding day, Dave and I sent announcements to Bill Murray, Will Smith, President Obama, and Conan O'Brien. We might have sent one to Justin Timberlake; I can't remember. If we did, it wasn't my idea.

I'm happy to be able to show these off to you, my friends, and to personally declare my devotion and renewed respect to both President Obama and the First Lady as well as to Conan O'Brien (who would be my next best pick for future presidential campaigns--whatever happened Obama/Walken '08?). Unfortunately, Conan misread our announcement and addressed the very awesome and very large signed portrait of himself to my mom and dad, but we are all impressed that he at least spelled my mom's name right.

And here's a note just to you, Mr. O'Brien: I sure love you and am pleased about your response, but this isn't over. My mom refuses to let me have this autographed picture, and has replaced a framed wedding picture of David and me with it. I would kiss a goat to have a personalized, autographed picture from you, and I don't even care if you have a toadie to do the actual signing for you. I want one. And the fact that you signed this to my MOTHER and not to ME is making my blood boil! O'Brien, if you're out there, you owe me sir! I will not stop until I have your John Hancock framed and hanging on my wall!
And to Mr. Bill Murray: you're breaking my heart, kind sir. Of all the celebs I'd thought we would have heard from by now, you were my number one expectation.

P.S. Speaking of Bill Murray, all of you MUST see The Fantastic Mr. Fox. I give it my highest recommendation; there wasn't a moment I wasn't in complete delight. Roald Dahl would approve. Murray makes a real rascal of a badger, too. (Hey David, why didn't we send an invite to Wes Anderson?)

For Tim Curry Lovers Only

I realize I haven't said two cents since getting married, but David and I have been swamped with grading compositions; we have 220 students between the two of us and every spare second we have we've spent eating pumpkin cookies and birdwatching at Rexburg's Nature Park.

In fact, I'm trying to plan a lesson about the Gothic revival for my Romantic literature class this afternoon, but while I was trying to find a church-school-appropriate clip from The Rocky Horror Picture Show on YouTube (it's a companion piece to William Beckford's Vathek), I tripped over this gem of a historic pearl and couldn't help but post it here, where hopefully three or four of you will mutually appreciate the Curry's tambourine. God bless the person who uploaded it for all of us to enjoy. I know Halloween was last weekend, but the song does mention Christmas, too.

Scotland

Bride and Groomals

*click on the pictures to get them super-sized*

Last Saturday, David and I picked up our wedding dress and tux in Provo, then went immediately to Saltair with my mom and Stephen Phung, an amazing photographer friend of Greg Fox, and sandied up our new dandies taking bridal/groomal pictures. Here's some of our favorites. Tell us which are your favorites because we can only pick five for Stephen to ultra-super-detail-touch-up. Also, if you're interested (I'm speaking to you, my lovely sister-in-laws-to-be), all of the photos can be found here here here. David and I certainly can't decide the top five on our own.

I like this Heathcliff of the Moors shot. Very rugged/surly/handsome.


Here's that accordion I got David for his birthday this year.



David thinks I'm pulling a weird face in this one, but I like it.

These next ones are ridiculous.....David should have been the one to hold the guitar. I know all of four chords, but I still look like a dummy for those in the know.





These are our post-apocalyptic wedding photos.

A HUGE thanks to my Auntie Paula for making a veil for me, especially on such short notice.

There's a whole slew of these umbrella pictures...we have no idea which one to pick.



I can't lie--I'm a huge fan of the Tiger Lily kiss pictures, even though David insists that any and all kissy pictures must remain strictly in our own private collection (and this blog, because I can do whatever I want).






And these are our Indie band CD cover pictures.








Stephen Phung was incredible to work with--David and I aren't always the most photogenic people and it only took him two hours to come up with almost two hundred pretty decent photos of us. I highly recommend his work, and he was surprisingly affordable. Many, many thanks go to him and also my friend Stephie for doing my hair and makeup during her lunch break. Also, a huge thanks to my mom for her help, and for holding her breath (and her tongue) as she watched me run all over sand and rusted metal in the most expensive dress I'll ever wear (collecting gnats in my lace as I went).

If you want to see more Stephen Phung work and check out his pricing (he does family, kid, personal, and engagement photos, too), his website is www.phungphotography.com.

P.S. Sorry that this posting was ridiculously long and self-advertising, but we need help picking our Top Five!! Please leave your input!

"The Chinks in my Armor" or "All Work and No Play, etc."

Uh, this is going to be fast because I have papers to grade, and chicken to Shake n' Bake, and dreams to sleep, and a carless boy back home waiting for me to get home. However, it's been a good long while since I've had a real good violent anger posting on here, and I aim to make good on this month's quota right now.

I have been in a consistently foul mood since I woke up this morning. I spent the next several hours scowling, cursing under my breath, and frantically trying to figure out what was wrong so I could fix it. It was the darnedest thing. I couldn't decide what I was mad about and why I couldn't let it go. Chan and Jen drew me pictures as I shot daggers at the poor man giving the Tuesday Devotional today. Jen wrote: "Don't stress out. Don't be discouraged. Satan is PISSED that you're getting married. He's gonna try real hard to keep you in this mindset."

Below this she drew the outline of a goldfish with a speech bubble that said, "Hi, my name is Emily, and I'm gonna keep swimming."

Next to the goldfish, Chandler drew Satan waving his fists and stating, pretty matter-of-factly, "I am so pissed."

After reading the note and looking at their silly, expectant little faces, I felt the bones in my angry face start to relax, and all these wound up little muscles I didn't realize were wound up started to loosen and calm down.

Maybe it is just as simple as a pissed off devil. I mean, why shouldn't Satan be after me? I'm a goldmine of truth and virtue. My sister Amanda says the theme of my wedding should be "Purity," though Mom won't let us write it on the cake.

If it is Satan, he sure is sneaky about it. All David has done is send me kind texts and bring me food. It's a bit difficult to come up with reasons that marrying him is a bad idea. So I'm being attacked in different places....little overlooked holes I didn't expect to be shot into. So I'm writing a list. My Top Ten List of Armor Chinks that put me in a crummy mood all day:

10. Weird dreams. I have no control over my dreams, most of the time. And I had weird ones last night. Fuzzy ones. I can't place my fingers on the details, but I woke up disappointed and ashamed. It was something about not fitting into my wedding dress and having to show up to an important board meeting and everybody hating me there.

9. I've started worrying a lot about wedding dresses. I have one. I haven't seen it in weeks. I don't remember what it looks like or what I look like in it. I know nobody is really going to care what I look like (or will remember it in a year, anyway), but I have this nagging worry that I'm going to look like a pastry. Or a polygamist. Or a frump. Like "Purity" really was my theme or something.

8. I'm getting disproportionately heavy. And this real fancy friend of a friend is going to take my bridals in this real gourmet style and I'm afraid I'm going to end up looking like a pop tart on a golden platter. A bloated pop tart. They will look less like wedding photos and more like political cartoons. ("What could the metaphor be?" they'll ask, then chuckle as if they already knew.)

7. I'm allergic to all this cotton. I keep sneezing. I keep sneezing just when a thought starts to sound good, but I lose it with the sneeze. It's bugging me.

6. This girl ushering people into devotional today kept walking up and down the aisles with her nose in the air, like she was approving of everything going on inside the room, or rather that everything going on inside the room needed her approval. That bugged me.

5. I made a typing error on my wedding announcements. They're all printed. There's no going back. When you get my announcement, it will say I am getting married on the "Fourtheenth of August." The fourtheenth. Have I ever misspelled fourtheenth? I'm marrying an editor, for crying out loud. We're English majors, for crying out loud. I have to send these announcements to people in my thesis committee, for crying out loud.

4. Did I mention I wrote "fourtheenth" on my announcements and no one noticed until they were all printed? Maybe we'll get more presents this way, out of their pity for me.

3. Nobody thinks I can cook anything, but I can. I'm sick of people pigeon-holing me into this scatter-brained whelp of an incompetent housewife without evidence. So I burned macaroni and cheese last semester. So Sharon had to throw away that pot. That doesn't mean I can't learn real fast how to make all kinds of real fancy crap! Quit pointing out my motes!

3 1/2. I'm also kind of bugged that people keep saying I'm going to be a housewife now. I mean, I guess it'll probably happen, and I think I even want it, but the fact that people keep assuming really gets under my fingernails and behind my face. I burn there. If I'm a housewife, it's because I chose it, damn it.

2. I'm irritated that I can't do anything I want to do for this wedding because I have so much to do at school. I feel like I'm shouldering everything, but I'm too prideful to set any of it down. I'm drowning in a sea of "To-dos" and I go to bed each night exhausted and lisping. I've started to say things like, "fourtheenth."

1. Today I used the phrase, "chinks in your armor," to my English 311 class while referring to solidifying their argument by anticipating the opposition. A corner of the class erupted into snickers and whispers. "Sister G!" they called out in priggish, cocky confidence, "do you realize you said 'chinks' instead of 'kinks'?"

The dumb kids think that the word "chink" is only used as a racial slur. A "kink" in armor? What the hell would that look like? They really had never heard of the phrase "chinks in our armor." That's the last straw. I was kind to them in class, but I had to really rush out of there to spit fire into the empty vacuum of my office and rant out this little list of bothers.

Thanks for letting me get this off my chest.

I'm going to go be sweet and make decent food now. Because I'm perfectly capable and perfectly calm. And I will grade these papers. If I'm up until three a.m., I will grade these papers. And I'm going to fix pollution for once and for all! Quit telling me I can't!

August 14

Top Ten Most Important Facts About My Engagement Story
(Click on the pic to see it zoomed up and in close.)
(Sorry my fingers look so chubs in this picture--I took this tonight after my run so they are all pumped up.)
(Also, I'm going to try not to gross everybody out like I did a few posts back. But believe me.......I could....you all have no idea how gross I can be....)
(Yes, that was a threat.)

1. David did not use roommates, video cameras, scavenger hunts, blindfolds, balloons, or goldfish to ask me to marry him. He didn't hide the ring in my food, he didn't light candles, and he didn't line the walk with rose petals. It was simple, surprising, and legit. Thank goodness.

2. Earlier that morning, I got a $75 speeding ticket for going 87 in a 75 zone. David was in the passenger-side seat.

3. He proposed under a vast and clear mess of stars, and we were sitting on my Anasazi wool blanket that I always keep in the trunk of my car. (To my fellow TrailWalkers: Best blanket stepping EVER. Someone mail me a Making of the Marriage Engagement bead for my remembrance pouch.)

4. He had already asked my dad in secret. He got his phone number after adding Nick as his Facebook friend.

5. For my Layton, UT, friends: he proposed at Fernwood in that area by the castle, if you can believe it. Ten years ago I had a Young Women's pre-Girls-Camp activity in the very spot and went home with stinging nettle all over my knuckles.

6. The stones are emeralds--I didn't want a diamond (no offense to you diamonders out there.....it just isn't a good fit for me, and David didn't particularly like them either). David picked the ring out on his own, secretly, craftily.

7. Emeralds are my birthstone.

8. The first postcard I ever got from David had a P.S. that mentioned if he were a girl, he'd rather get an emerald or a ruby engagement ring than a diamond. That was before we were dating. In fact, it was mere days after I had broken up with my former fella. ......Sly dog.

9. I haven't told this to David yet, but I secretly love that my ring reminds me of Lavar Burton's eye visor from Star Trek: The Next Generation. Haha, I hope I can say that and not have it detract from how beautiful I think it is and how undeserving I still feel about owning it. I never knew a ring could carry such weight--I am surprised at how happy I am to feel taken, to have dibs called on. I am oddly in love with the outward symbol of dedication and commitment. Forgive me for saying two horribly nerdy things in one bullet, but I feel like wearing the ring gives me +25 protection and +10 luck and +50 charisma. Look, I'm not a gamer. I just know the general drill of it.

10. I said yes. The date is the 14th. August. Bountiful Temple. Reception in Layton. Be there. I'm trying to track you all down to get addresses. You can email me your address now, or wait until I call you. If you're peeved like a buzzard that you are finding this news out here and not through a personal phone call, listen, Bub: I am literally, right now, sitting on one hundred essays to have graded by the end of the weekend and I am drowning in the waters of work and appeasing my mom by saying "yes" to all of her various wedding planning ideas.........sheeeeeeeeeeesh. I haven't called a soul. Forgive. Forgive. Let live.

Ha! I digress. I said yes! I said yes! That is the meaning of all this! High falutin' rooty tootin' jingo jangin' shim sham jimmy shimmy doo dah day. How the hells bells did this all happen so fast?!

Soon to be a Grover,
Em G.

This Darned Color Scheme

I can't for the life of me figure out what colors I want this blog to carry. Nothing matches the header photo and while I want the subject matter of an upcoming post to be sunshine and cheer, the colors I keep picking are all dark and misty. Until I figure this out, I refuse to write my next post. That, and I can't find my camera, which I need.

All this is to say stay tuned. And sorry it's so dark in here.