Oh What a Night Out: Jersey Boys at the Kentucky Center

After totally loving Broadway Across America's production of Legally Blonde: The Musical this summer-- which was absolutely delightful-- I'm just plain ol' looking forward to Jersey Boys, starting July 28 and continuing through August 15.  Before Legally Blonde, I wouldn't have said so.  In fact, I might have even said I'd rather skip Jersey Boys.  But I was proven so wrong about Legally Blonde...

And Jersey Boys is incredibly well-reviewed.  It won the 2006 Tony for Best Musical, and let's face it, even if you're not a huge fan of the Four Seasons' music, the original bands' vocal talents were such that if the musical even adequately replicates them, you're in for a night of musical virtuosity.  And its success has spawned all sorts of band/musician centered musical bios-- imitation, flattery, and so on.

And who doesn't love a night out in downtown Louisville during the summer?  This past weekend, Roommate and I availed ourselves of one of my Groupons for White Oak and had a lovely dinner then headed to Fourth Street Live for the free Peter Searcy/Blues Travelers concert.  It wasn't one of the better nights for White Oak-- service was slow (so much so that we missed Peter Searcy) and they were out of a couple of key items (bacon?).  But the food was excellent, and it was a nice change to have a leisurely meal at a somewhat upscale place, knowing we weren't going to go broke.  (Tip: order the cheese plate-- the Kenny's Farmhouse Horseradish White Cheddar is amazing)

And while I generally avoid Fourth Street Live, I have to admit that the free concerts are a lot of fun.  The sound system sucks unless you're directly in front of the stage-- and if you're on the second floor, often the concert is competing with the bars' cranked-up music (really? Is this necessary?).  But we finagled a clear balcony view of the Blues Travelers and availed ourselves of the pretty generous $3 well-drinks and enjoyed a cheap, fun evening out.

A Broadway show at the Kentucky Center is considerably more expensive.  Tickets start at $40.  But if Jersey Boys is your sort of thing, it'll be money well spent.  Tickets are available at http://www.kentuckycenter.org/.  I'll keep you posted if I spy any discounts or deals.

Literary News: Award and Laureate

According to Michelle at Consuming Louisville, Carmichael's Bookstore has been named Bookseller of the Year by Publishers Weekly magazine. Heck yeah. For more details, click over to Consuming Louisville. I won't mind. We're buddies. But let me just say that this is hugely exciting for all of us Louisvillagers. Carmichael's (combined both stores) is 1/5 the size of the most recent winner of the award.

Also in book news, recently Gurney Norman was named Kentucky Poet Laureate.

I know I'm new to the 'Ville and new to Kentucky, but it seems my "who?" is echoed by the interwebs in general. Not able to find out all that much information about Mr. Norman. According to Amazon, he hasn't published a book in the past half decade or so. And it looks like his last book of poetry was published 15 years ago.

Far be it from me to disparage ANY writer's productivity. I have a novel in my pipeline that's more than a decade old-- and that doesn't sound so horrible until you realize that's around 1/3 of my WHOLE LIFE. Mama gets writers' block. But still... I'd love it if someone in the know would send me more info about Poet Laureate Norma.

A Different Kind of Horse Power for KY

So, yesterday Lou reported on Greater Louisville Inc.'s mission to convince the American Craft Council to move to Loueyville. (Write those letters of support, kiddos!) Lou + Louisville + Arts and Crafts = makes sense.

But today our own Gov. Steve announced his intentions to romance another organization to our fair state, and Lou is equally excited but for entirely different reasons.

Lou + Kentucky + NASCAR = wha?

Yeah, I know. If you know Lou, you know that she's hardly a NASCAR kinda gal, although she did used to spend quality time in her late teens/early twenties at a Speedbowl in SE CT-- but that was mostly because they didn't check ID's and had cheapo beer. (Some things never change.)

Anyway, today Gov. Steve had a big ol' press conference to announce his intentions to try to woo NASCAR into bringing it's Sprint Cup to the Kentucky Speedway. According to the press release:

“The impact of a NASCAR Sprint Series Cup race for Kentucky is undeniable,” Gov. Beshear said. “NASCAR is the number one spectator sport in the United States and is broadcast in more than 150 countries and 30 languages. I’m excited about the potential of Kentucky joining these ranks.”

There was also all kinds of government-y muckety-yuck said about tax credits and expansions and blah blah. I don't really care about that stuff. And I don't really care about NASCAR.

Here's what I care about: I have this really cool nephew who lives across the river, and he just eats NASCAR up with a spoon. He's seven years old and knows more about NASCAR crap than I know about most of the stuff that I care about. (Ditto with the WWE, but I just can't get behind that.) And this kid-- who isn't really my nephew, he's Roommate's nephew, but I've known him since he was one, and he calls me "Aunt Mimi"-- has a really pernicious disorder called Spinal Muscular Atrophy (SMA). He's probably confined to a wheelchair/scooter for the rest of his life, and the common cold could have deadly consequences for him, and he's spent way, way, way too much damned time in a hospital for a little kid. And yet he's as ebullient and cheerful as any other seven year old-- maybe more so.

You've got to love a kid like that. And you've got to want that kid to be as happy as-fricking-possible. And if the Sprint Cup came to Kentucky, I personally would do everything in my power to make sure he got a ticket, and little man would be loopy with glee.

So you go, Gov. Steve. Bring that puppy to KY. I will be first in line to get tickets. (Sure, I'll probably bring earplugs and a book, but it would be worth it just to see the look on my nephew's face.)

Garden & Gun's Favorite Hotel: 21c

If you'd ever told this decade-and-a-half subscriber of The New Yorker that her favorite magazine would be replaced by one called Garden & Gun, she would have laughed her brown-thumbed, critter-lovin' ass off. But since its inaugural issue a little more than a year ago, this gorgeous magazine has offered some of the best writing and certainly the best photography and artwork on the magazine rack. From Roy Blunt Jr.'s regular column to features written by luminaries from Jimmy Buffet to Clyde Edgerton to Rick Bragg, Garden & Gun is worth reading from cover to cover; even the advertising smacks of stunning, classy taste.

This month's Garden & Gun arrived yesterday and the cover article led me to furious thumbing through the thick magazine: "Best of the New South: 50 People, Places, and Things We Love." (By the way, the cover model/musician is Miranda Lambert who is third billing-- seriously? third??-- on the closing act of the Kentucky State Fair. After reading the article about her, I could ALMOST pony up the $41 bucks to see her if it didn't mean also suffering through Trace Atkins and Keith Anderson.)

I couldn't be prouder that my favorite magazine chose to recognize one of my very favorite-est things about Loueyville; G&G's "Best Hotel" is our very own 21c.

Yes, I admit, my love affair with 21c began with the penguins. I'm a sucker for penguins. And on my very first trip to Loueyville, when I was interviewing for my current job, I first came across the curious penguins atop the building on Main Street and was smitten. Since then, 21c has been a regular stop for me whenever I happen to be in downtown.

I've had so many little "moments" courtesy of 21c. And when I say "courtesy of," I am stressing that these experiences are FREE. 21c's art is free and open to the public always. And that's the very best thing about the hotel/museum. Shortly after I moved, a cousin visited and we sat in the lobby and watched the moving sand-sculpture-installation-coffeetable for the better part of a half hour (and it was the middle of the day and there had not been any alcohol consumed at the time). Two dear friends stayed at 21c when they came to the Ville; Roommate and I passed a half an hour in their hotel room and opened the door to find one of the penguins standing guard at the door. I have spent an inordinate amount of time lingering by the elevators watching the boggling video installation of letters that rain down upon your reflection and settle upon your shoulders and hair (or in my case, lack thereof). I purposely make time to visit the loo, where the water runs off the edge of the infinity sink and where two-way mirrors wreak havoc on your sense of privacy.

In fact, I have a poster of the penguins in the hallway of my house and a throw pillow of the red penguin on my couch (those, of course, were not free). If there were a fan club, I'd have a membership card. I've promised myself that once I get through my chemotherapy and can truly enjoy an evening downtown, I will splurge and get a room at 21c to celebrate.

So congratulations to one of my favorite Loueyville places for earning an honor from my favorite periodical. It's a lovely match. While I have not yet drunk the Austin, TX Kool-aid (and admit it's been more than 15 years since I was last in Austin), it seems a good fit that 21c's plans to expand into that "It's in Texas, but it's not Texas" city (not to mention that Austin originated the whole "Keep ____ Weird" campaign that Louisville has so embraced).

Design Star Fades

Sorry to those of you who've Tivoed but not watched yet...

A belated "buh-bye" to Ms. Tracee Dore. Seven hours shopping? Seriously? Girlfriend punched her own ticket with that move.

(A couple weeks ago, Roomie and I had lunch at Jennica's-- big yum!-- and I nearly tinkled myself when I saw that her store is RIGHT NEXT DOOR! Weenie that I am, I didn't pop in or anything. But still-- fun! I'm such a dork.)

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HUNTER S. THOMPSON!!!

He would have been 71.

Also, in Hunter S. news: Gonzo opens today at the Baxter. Unfortunately with The Dark Knight and Mama Mia also opening, well... I'm thinking that's where people's theater dollars will be spent this weekend.

Hey... on that poster, Hunter S. kinda looks like Lou!

Geoff "Jeff" Davis Representing the Worst of KY

Remember, Lou moved here from New Orleans, so she's no stranger to deeply embarrassing political leaders. (Thank Jeebus, though, I didn't live in Louisiana when they almost elected a governor who was a Grand Dragon in the KKK). That doesn't mean my head didn't pop off when I heard that KY Representative Geoff Davis said, in reference to Obama:

"I'm going to tell you something: That boy's finger does not need to be on the button. He could not make a decision in that simulation that related to a nuclear threat to this country."

Gasp. Choke. At a GOP dinner in KY.

Davis's reps have not denied or tried to explain away what he said, and Davis himself is reported to have hand-delivered an apology to Obama. But interestingly enough, I haven't seen one single report that tells me how the crowd reacted to the comment.

Was it: Gasp? Choke?

Was it?

Because here's the thing, what stuck me as so jaw-dropping about the whole thing is that Geoff Davis is not some withered old Strom Thurman dinosaur. The man's 49 years old! Sure, it's no less offensive when fossils crack open their bigoted big mouths and let some heinous slur spill out, but-- and let's hope lightening doesn't strike me down for saying so-- when a fossil says something assholish, then we can at least comfort ourselves with the knowledge that the fossil, and those who share fossil's archaic beliefs and preferences, will not be long with us. (That's a very bad thing to say, Lou. Do shame!)

This man's not even old enough to be my dad (well, okay, maybe if he was a strapping young just-barely-teen who "really listens and understands," and my mama were a Florida schoolteacher). We've got a good twenty, thirty, maybe even forty years of his brand o' bigotry to endure.

Email Geoff Davis at his website. He's the Rep for Kentucky's 4th District ("the fightin' fourth!") which includes the area right around Cincinnati (which, yes, I know is NOT in Kentucky, but it kinda feels like it is). Davis sits on the board of CASA, the Court Appointed Special Advocates, working with juveniles who have been abused and neglected. He and his daughter have mentored in inner-city schools. I'm thinking the folks in charge of having Davis work with these kids might want to think about how being called a "boy" by this big rich white man may effect of a young black inner city youth.

(Note: I say Davis is rich because, seriously, who can afford to have SIX kids these days except rich people? Well, except Jon and Kate from TLC and that fundamentalist family with 17 kids on the Discovery Channel. Huh. I didn't realize that Jon & Kate are super religious. Never would have guessed from the couple of shows that I've seen. Now see, this is how the religious right is going to take over the world-- by breeding!! Oh, now, Lou's taken quite the side trip here).

(Isn't Jeff Davis the Garfield guy? Oh no, no, that's Jim Davis. No, Jeff Davis was the President of the Confederacy... well, now, that's awkward!)

Kentuckiana Cluster All-Breed Dog Show 2008: Bitches, man! Bitches.*

There is a place where dapper gentlemen dressed in suits and ties stand around and talk openly about their bitches. And it isn’t the lobby of the Mayflower Hotel. The 2008 Kentuckiana Cluster All-Breed Dog Show featured thousands of dogs from May 15-18 at the Kentucky Fair and Expo Center.

Of course, I went expecting to be transported to the Mayflower (yes) Dog Show from the 2000 Christopher Guest movie, Best in Show. And while the Kentuckiana Show lacks the pomp and spectacle of the show in the movie, for the most part the movie was dead on. There were the strung-out Parker Posey types and the flamboyant Michael McKeans. The second judging group I caught was the terrier group, so I couldn’t get “God Loves a Terrier” out of my head. But, truth be told, the show just wasn’t as fun or funny without Fred Willard’s commentating.

Some observations:

There’s a lot of dog-butt touching going on at dog shows. Apparently the appearance of a dog’s tail is of great significance in judging a dog, so the handlers spend a lot of brushing, stroking, and tweaking dog butt. It can be obscene and strangely intimate. At times I had to avert my eyes.

For a small dog, the tail does double-duty and serves as a handle. In order to place the dog on the judging table, handlers lift the dog by the neck and tail. I assume that this is to prevent squishing the dog’s fur. I know that it is okay lift a cat by the scruff of its neck, but it still makes me uncomfortable to watch. Likewise this means of lifting the dog.

Yes, those over-groomed poodles with the Cher hair and the hip pom-poms fair well at dog shows. I watched a white standard poodle won the Non-Working group (as she—Lord, I hope it was a “she” dog—walked by the “Non-Working" sign in the ring, my inner bitch said, “Non-Working? No shit.”). I cannot begin to describe the archness of this dog’s ugliness. Not only was she shaved to her grey-ish skin over most of her body, but her face appeared botoxed. And yet, the crowd loved her.

Dog shows smell like dogs. I don't know why this should have surprised me. I guess I assumed that with all the grooming and blow-drying and whatnot, they'd somehow wash the dog stink away. But I guess when you have hundreds of dogs under the same roof pooing and peeing, you're pretty much stuck with the dog stink. I just hope that the next expo booked in the hall isn't a flower show.

The 2007 Kentuckiana Cluster All-Breed Dog Show was named the 2007 Show of the Year by the AKC, so I guess what we have going on here is good stuff. In this dog show newbie's opinion, though, the show seemed slow and a bit anti-climatic. One way to perk things up a little (besides hiring Fred Willard) would be to mic the judging; that way in addition to the shameless poking and proding, viewers could be treated to choice comments like, "This bitch has a nice butt."

*Big love to anyone who recognizes the title as a quote from the endlessly quotable movie Say Anything.

All the pretty horses

While I was at the fair today, I also attended The World's Championship Horse Show, which apparently is the world's biggest competition for the American Saddlebred. I didn't know that; I had to look it up. I knew nothing about the competition before I went, and now that I have been, I am more-- not less-- baffled by the whole thing.

I didn't even know what an American Saddlebred was until last year when a student of mine competed in the event. This year, I promised her I'd go to see her compete. It's a week-long thing with today and tomorrow being the Big Days. She took home a ribbon in the 3-gaited junior horse division thing; another student got one for the 5-gaited. Apparently, if they've made it this far, they've already won some Big Prizes. And I'm afraid that pretty much covers my knowledge/understanding of the event. (Ignorance evidenced when I was speaking to woman in the seat next to me and, without thinking, I referred to my student as a "jockey.")

According to the Fair website:

This exciting and prestigious event, held annually in conjunction with the
Kentucky State Fair, crowns world champion Saddlebreds in different divisions
each year. The show attracts people from all across the country and the world
including more than 2,000 horses competing for over $1 million in awards.

Clearly, very impressive. And it was a beautiful and sometimes interesting experience. First of all, spectators dress up for the event like they do the Derby, except in eveningwear. Cocktail dresses and suits. I wore a sundress to beat the heat and felt underdressed.

The program for the event costs $15 and is a spiral-bound tome of dictionary proportions. After spending all that money just to go ($7 for the fair, $5 for the parking, and $16 for the show... not to mention the $15 I spent on food and drink), I chose to forgo the program and just bug my neighbors for the numbers of my student-riders-- they all look the same (elegant, even regal) in those dapper little hats and dress coats.

The competition varied between horses with riders that went through a series of different running styles-- trotting, walking, cantering-- and then horses that pulled little pretty buggies and also went through a series of different running styles. Sometimes the horse and rider competition involved the riders getting off the horses and removing the saddles and showing the horses like the dogs at Westminster. Sometimes the riders stayed on the horses the whole time. No jumping. No racing. Personally, I would have been more interested if the competition involved racing as well. Or maybe demolision derby type stuff. If you knocked another rider off his or her horse, you got extra points or something.

I have to say, while the event was surely a spectacle, as a mere spectator, I felt completely in the dark. While the announcer comments extensively on the goings-on, he does so in jargon that was lost on me. And gosh darn it, all the horses and riders (not jockeys) are so pretty... how am I supposed to know which ones really "brought it"? I really couldn't tell what, exactly, was being judged. It seemed like a beauty pagent, but was it the horses or the riders or both who were actually earning the ribbons?

I certainly recognized the "Stage Moms" in the pagents, but I don't know who they were. When the riders would dismount and show their horses, there was, inevitably, someone else who would stand in front of the horse and either wave a towel or throw some sawdust into the air. I'm just guessing, but I think this wild and rather undignified act was performed to try to get the horse to look up? Again, it was like watching any other sporting event without having at least a passing understanding of the rules. More often than not, I thought I'd pegged the winner and was totally wrong. In fact, in the 5-gaited junior competition, I was sure that my student had it nailed. They gave out 8 ribbons for a field of 16, and she didn't get a ribbon at all!

The constant reiteration of the words "World Champion" gave weight to the evening, although there wasn't much of a "world" presence that I could tell. A horse from Canada won something, and a stable from South Africa won something...

I doubt I'll go again unless I have another connection to the event. Both of my students have maxed out age-wise on the junior competition and will be off to college next year. If I do go back, I'll do my research ahead of time. And I'll remember not to call the riders "jockeys."

Happy Birthday Freddy!

It is someone's job to live within Freddy Farm Bureau and talk to fairgoers. This amazes me almost as much as the fact that it is somebody's job to be BirdZerk! This year is Freddy's 50th birthday. He's a charming, bright-eyed, goofy-grinned guy who always has a nice word or two for the ladies.

And, according to the Courier-Journal, he's still single. I could do worse. I have done worse.

It's time to put on make-up; it's time to light the lights

Today in one of my classes, we were talking about the fair, and I said: "I spent hours in the exhibition hall. I just loved looking at all the cakes and canned goods... Holy cow, I saw the most amazing thing in the cake section..."

And before I could finish my statement, two students said, "The MUPPET CAKE???"

An old high school acquiantence of mine works for Industrial Light and Magic... I'm thinking this blue-ribbon cake decorater should look him up.

Proud to believe in Americana

Some of my fondest memories from childhood involve going to the Martha's Vineyard Agricultural Fair. As fairs go, it's pretty small potatoes (although, it did feature a Biggest Potato contest), but as a suburban girl, it was nice to get up close and personal with the livestock, it was always good for some delicious fair food, and I would spend hours walking the aisles of the exhibition hall perusing the quilts and the canned goods and the art.

I just got back from my second visit to the mammoth Kentucky State Fair. My tummy's full of Italian sausage, roasted corn, and lemonade. I pet some sheep and pigs. Walked til I had blisters. Bought a honey bear from the beekeepers society. I don't even do carnival rides, and two visits isn't enough to cover the whole thing. The fair is eleven days long, and you could probably find a way to entertain yourself for the entire stretch if you were so inclined.

My only complaint about the fair is how expensive a day it ends up being. $7 admission. $5 for parking. $6 for an Italian sausage. $5 for a lemonade (best deal-- refills are half price-- this time I saved my cup from my last visit, smuggled it in and got the cheaper refill... good thinkin'). $3 popcorn. $3 roasted corn. Plus I spent $16 to go to the horse show-- more on that in a minute. It's not often that I'm thankful that I don't have a family... but seriously, add kids to the mix and you've got the cost of rides, games, souvenirs. Or run the risk of being the weird, mean mom who brings baloney sandwiches to the fair.

There's not much left in these United States of ours that feels quite as unabashedly American as a good State Fair (ludicrous prices, included). Little old ladies with names like Agnes and Lily pitting their canned green beans against each other's. The Future Farmers of America displaying their business plans for dog breeding facilities or tractor restoration services. The Girl Scouts showing off their digital photography skills (a far cry from the friendship bracelets and pot-holder projects when I was a Brownie). The balloons, the rides, the cheesy as-seen-on-tv product booths, the fried things that shouldn't be fried, the bad karaoke and cover bands, the men in cowboy hats and boots, the women who's midriff-baring tops bare midriffs that shouldn't be, the children on leashes... America in all its wholesome, corn-dog, diverse, kitschy glory.

Last year, I cried as I watched a little 4-H girl sob when her lamb didn't win a ribbon. It was heartbreaking; I could hardly stand it. Even though I knew full well that widdle lambikins would probably end up as stew. You get caught up in it all. At least I do. I didn't leave wanting to belt out some Lee Greenwood, but I did kind of latch onto the sweet notion that the best parts of Americana still thrive somewhere-- somewhere in my little state.