Saturday, July 7, 2012
July 6, 2012
Gangsta Signs on the Rooftop Stage with the Everyman Chance Lewis. Photo by JHack.
Do not read this post if you're already conditioned to believe I am a narcissist. This will only give you easy evidence and make you smug. Also, we all know you are right.
I woke up early to drive to Salt Lake past a backlit Mount Olympus and west to ABC studios where I did two segments for two different shows (but only one dress) promoting the Rooftop show.
Thanks Krista Mauer for being a fantastic publicist and iphonographer
Then I drove home thinking all the way about how business sometimes gets in the way of me and Chup. He's been trying to connect with me for days and I've been saying,
"Ok, give a minute."
but all my minutes started adding up to hours of children, family, work and obligations and zero minutes for Chup.
I made a mental declaration that I was going to drive myself home and reserve an hour just connecting with my husband. But when I pulled into Retro House Ever came to embrace my legs and Anson was fighting with the iPad on the white chair and I could tell they were really hungry.
That is my special motherhood power, by the way, I can tell immediately when my children are hungry. So I started on eggs and toast, cheese and fruit served on small white plates at the dinner table. Chup and I had a moment of brushing each other by as he packed the car with lanterns, chairs and hardware for the concert and I heated up cobbler from last night.
"Later," I said to him as he nodded in trust.
But later in the hot afternoon, the baby wasn't interested in napping and wanted to keep my constant attention. She's starting to pull herself up to her feet when encountering couches and tables which is always followed by a check to see if I am watching.
But instead I am crying because seven months goes by like a wink.
When Chup returned from completing his Rooftop duties (lantern hanging, specifically) I was pretty frazzled. I think I was just tired but instead of allowing for my body to shut down temporarily I decided to clean the kitchen.
The scrubbing, wiping, swiping and bleaching only made me more cranky and just like the dry weeds of Utah getting flicked with a flame I was engulfed with frustration at a single sidewards glance of Chup's. I lost it. I cried and swore and flung myself on my bed.
The dress I was supposed to wear hadn't shown up on my doorstep, the program for the concert wasn't written, I had to fire a Rooftop volunteer when it looked like his efforts were not going to be helpful--I mean, who fires volunteers? This gal.
But I heard my calm, sane, inner voice say,
"You need to connect with your husband."
That was the moment I decided to wipe my mind clean of clutter and leave a giant, charitable space for my husband. And so for a fit fifteen minutes we stopped time and looked at eachother's faces and reestablished ground zero.
After that things resumed in a much more hopeful place.
We made it to the concert where Chup spent the night doing security detail for the evening (specifically Tyler of Neon Trees) and I ran up and down a really steep and scary ramp to the huge stage doing various things like hosting the concert, thanking our sponsors, perfecting the art of making a fool of myself and you know, rapping.
Lucy ended up donating me a dress I once bought for her five years ago. It was blue with white dots and so it was 2/3 patriotic and perfect for a July show.
As I was thus posing for le camera, this diva marched right into my shot. Prompting my duck face and him to exclaim,
"Heyyyy, C. Jaaaane."
Forgive my name/ photo dropping here, it's just that if you've ever seen him on stage you'd know what a complete fabulous maniac he is--prompting respect and admiration reserved for those really talented humans among us.
For the most part we had kept things pretty hush about Tyler being on stage and so when she showed up on stage to sing a duet with band member Elaine the crowd was so shocked you could hear a pin drop. That was the moment I felt very clever myself. But later in the evening, when everyone had sufficiently pinched themselves it looked like this:
Crying. Girls, boys, grown women. I am telling you.
But before all that, Chance Lewis and Apt skillfully warmed up the stage with special guests and I enjoyed the set from the side stage until it was my turn to go up to perform Gangsta Signs. Then I got a little nervous especially when I looked out at the crowd and again, pin drop. I tried to put everyone at ease with some back-and-forth with Chance and blowing some kisses but the faces of the crowd remained horrified. Especially my family, their section was the quietest, horrified-faced of all.
Then I gave it my all anyway because I had, very seriously, nothing to lose.
At least I could say it felt good. And by the end I sorta think I maybe didn't slay and spill my self-respect all over the stage. Two tweets went out like this:
"You rapped very cutely." -Cody Rigby
"You rapped so adorable. Cute. Cute."-Stephen Cope
which are good for my blogger cred, but not so much for my street cred.
JHack on the floor with photos again.
If you get to the end of this generous post, I promise video. But don't feel obliged.
After Chance Lewis and Apt made Provo a lot more accepting of the hiphop scene (THANK YOU!) we welcomed out the Tom Petty Show house band and from there on out things exploded from one song to the next. I actually mean explosive, that's not just a cute turn o' phrase.
First the set list:
Second the explosions:
After the last note of Free Falling we all hugged it out backstage, sweaty, wet hugs of happiness.
Then we took down the lanterns, dismantled the stage, picked up the trash, said good byes and met the Wiley's across the street at Nellie's for a 1am breakfast and debrief.
You wouldn't even know Scott had just spent the whole night on stage playing lead guitar! He looks so refreshed and jovial! As do the pancakes!
And so with my mouth full of syrupy stacks of the battered-and-baked I looked over at Chup and realized it had been our anniversary all day.
July 6 2002--the day we escaped to Vegas to make a vow of sorts.
"Hey, happy anniversary, " I told him.
"You too." He responded.
What a marriage.
p.s. Speaking of our marriage, this guy was my concert +1:
AND NOW I GIVE YOU GANGSTA SIGNS featuring Chance Lewis, Apt, Gilbert Cisneros, DJ Skratchmo, Pyf Daddy and Wiley Cyrus: