Call me "Tracks"

OK so I did it. I got braces as an ADULT. AAAAHHHHH! HEEELLLPPPP!!!! GRROOOOOSSSSS!!! Hey, I know I'm not the first oldie to do this but this is my second go around with these damn things. I had them 30 years ago and here we go again. Are braces like a roof that lasts 30 years and then you need to redo it? I should have asked how many more times I'll need braces before I kick the bucket. Do I swing by in my 70's for another spasm of being hit with an ugly stick? It's bad ok. B-A-D

This morning, however, before looking in the mirror of course, I had some levity about it all. I thought everyone can call me "Tracks" for 18 months. Or I could just say I did it for the attention. Oh I get attention alright for wearing these babies. Oh yeah. These workmen came yesterday and they were very nice but you could TELL(!) they wanted to yell, "What the hell did you do to your teeth!? NOOOOO!! NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!" and then they ran from the door. I was walking my dog and said hello to a woman pushing a stroller and when she saw my teeth blazing at her in the sunlight she shrieked and tore off in the opposite direction. Well not really but she didn't say hello back so I immediately jumped to conclusions and thought, "These BRACES ARE RUINING MY LIFE!!!"

It reminds me of this lady who got a face lift and it was so painful and horrible she wished she had known how bad it was going to be. I just couldn't stop crying yesterday but then again it was also Monday. The thing is I needed to get these dumb things for a jaw issue. It's not cosmetic because I don't care. I thought my teeth looked good before. I just don't want to look a way that will scare people like that villain from the James Bond movies with metal teeth. I feel like his stand-in.

I'll just tell my violin students I wanted to feel 13 again. I'll tell my comedy friends that I did it for a role. It actually fits with the role I'm supposed to play in "Misfit", the musical I wrote that we're doing at the Fringe this Aug. Anyway I'm sure this will all pass...in 18 months that is. Good times...It's good to laugh. Oh and I didn't focus on all the things I can't eat for a year and a half. I'll basically be dining on soup and gruel. Maybe it'll be a sort of diet that's enforced like getting your jaw wired shut or lips stapled together.


This blog has turned out to be about a lot more than music. Here's a gig memory however that I wanted to share. I don't need to regale you with stories of my braces anymore or at least for today. I used to play for this wedding string quartet. There was one rule the other violinist told me if I wanted to keep working with this group: If there's a reception only eat if Samantha eats. (Samantha had hired me.) I fell out of favor with that group for another reason. I tried to get a sub 2 weeks before a gig and this was just too unprofessional for Samantha. I was like, "What? You have 2 WEEKS and you can't find another violinist?!" That's right I don't know about the real music world and what's appropriate after working in New York and LA. PULEASE!! The fact that she had such a short list of violinists she could call should have told me something right there.

Airport 2010

I was standing in line at airport security when these two ladies behind me started talking about if their plane went down. I wanted to turn around and say, "Are you kiddin' me with this shit?" COME ON! I was doing pretty well until they started in with, "Well if the lord has it in his plans to take me, I'm ready." I wanted to say, "You're flying to Fresno! OK! No one especially god gives a crap about your travel plans." This lady just kept going on. Whatever gives you comfort I guess. Sometimes I believe in guardian angels but I don't think they could do a whole lot with a plane careening towards the ground. One of my aunts once said, "God doesn't care about helping you choose porch furniture." Well I'm not making a religious point of any kind. My point is it's amazing what bad timing people can have in choosing their conversation topics. It was right up there with getting my mammogram and hearing "Dust in the Wind" playing in the background.

Here's another recent episode. I was walking my dog and ran into this lady who lives in the neighborhood. My dog went up to her and really charmed her. The lady was like, "I'm gonna remember you. You're a sweetie." It was all just a nice little encounter and no big deal. Then the lady asked, "How old is your dog?" I said, "12". She replied, "Oh. Is she in good health?" I'm like, "Yeah." She then said, "Oh good. Because you know things can change so quickly at that age. Our dog was fine one day and the next day he was dead." I was like gulp and began lurching away from this lady who didn't even mean any harm. Still I was thinking, "Thanks for the unwanted information! And a cheery afternoon to you too." How about enjoy the time you have with your pet and leave it at that. (Oh dear. I used the word 'pet'. This is Boulder where you don't own a pet, you are it's GUARDIAN.) Anyway as we walked away she said, "I'll pray for her!" I should have shouted back, "She's not DEAD YET!!!" UGH!!! I try to stay open but this is the same lady who runs around the neighborhood wearing jeans. Maybe that's not that weird. Clint Eastwood did it in "Every Which Way But Loose" or one of his other 70's movies.

Sometimes people's blind spots are funny. I have them for sure. I once called my sister and she said, " Oh hi! Yeah we're watching ER right now." I didn't pick up on the hint at all. I was like, "Oh. So anyway the reason I called..." A friend of mine just had a baby and she said her mother had come to help out. When she went into labor and she told her mom they needed to go to the hospital her mother said, "But I'm not ready yet." My friend said, "Mom I don't want to have my baby in a cab. We have to go NOW!" Her mom then said, "How can you do this to me?!" I loved that one.

Britt, It's your inner Stuart Smalley AGAIN(!)wondering what in the doodle is going on with you? You started your blog and were writing away albeit on and off for a few months and then you're like a cat who is easily distracted, who just looks away from your goal and doesn't do a dern thing more. Why Britt? WHY?! Yes it can feel like a pressure cooker to have to come up with new things to write about and yes it can feel like a vice squeezing your head having 17 people(!) following your blog. No wonder you freaked out. It's too much and with your life history of storming the castle wall of classical music and starting your senior recital on the wrong string (we've all heard that story before! SIGH!) and playing so badly that one particular audition that you actually stopped playing and asked, "Have you heard enough?" Well Britt, maybe you've HAD enough and that's ok.

My point is why the high standard? Why try to rub elbows with the seraphim and the other angels and other-worldliness of it all? This ain't Juilliard honey chile. You won't be docked a point for each mistake you make in your writing as you were in your ear training class which was taught by that very odd woman who was kind of drill sergeant slash meanie pants lady. Britt, why would you be docked any points at all for sharing? You're just plain sharin' your stories chickee dee so chill. You haven't run out of ideas yet and with your Chatty Cathy ways I doubt you ever will.

So the gym thing where you were doing that challenge with yourself (story of your life!) to use up your 30 punches in two months didn't pan out. Well you did your best. Well no you actually didn't do your best but you were in Kansas and there was a good show on TV and whatever else happened to stop you from being a success story on that particular challenge and that's ok. You don't have to climb every mountain despite what Julie Andrews says or Maria Von Trapp or whoever the heck she was in that movie. You're not a grinder, Britt. You're fanciful and that's nice. You're not a treadmill junkie or an iron pumping goonie bird.

You did get your musical "Misfit" (the story of your life!) into the Boulder Fringe Festival and that's a nice goal to have achieved but don't stress. It's all just art. It ain't brain surgery as they say and that's good. What if it all fails miserably and people don't laugh and the dancing steps are off and the cast forgets all their lines and the props fall over and you can hear crickets in the audience instead of chuckles? So WHAT! Right? Nothing ventured nothing gained. If ya don't go, ya won't know. And you've got nothing to lose and I mean NOTHING. You kept your standards low which seems to be the key that unlocks your creativity or you just get started, right? You kinda sneak up on yourself and low and behold you've written a musical and the script and the music and all the rest so don't stress or go into a shame spiral trying to control everything! You can't sistah. That ain't the way the cookie crumbles.

So we've covered your big stressers and that's nice. It's good to step back and say "Hey, this is my life!" Hey Britt this IS your life so just have fun with it. No one can live it but you so have some mallowmars and let the whole gym failure thing go and the other ways you're disappointed like having to get braces (yes braces!) for the SECOND(!) time as an ADULT(!!!) which is not going to be a picnic. You've never been a vain glamour gal, however, so what are some railroad tracks on your teeth gonna do? You might feel like you're 13 again and relive all those glorious years of Junior High. See? There's a bright side to every penny!