Singing for a great fundraiser today!
P.S. 6WS visitors – thanks for stopping by! I will return the visit, but can only leave a comment if you have Name/URL enabled on your blog…
Singing for a great fundraiser today!
P.S. 6WS visitors – thanks for stopping by! I will return the visit, but can only leave a comment if you have Name/URL enabled on your blog…
A couple times a month I work with a voice coach who is helping me get my range back (you’ll recall I had some throat problems over the winter). He lives in the next town over, and works as the Musical Director out of a beautiful old church in the older part of town. We had a great “work out” (I suspect he’s trying to turn me into a soprano… I’d rather leave that to ShaMoo though) yesterday, and I left on a – pardon the pun – high note.
The church backs on to a bit of an alleyway, with the paid parking lot directly behind. I park my van usually near the opening in the fence where you enter the lot on foot. So I left the church, with the door lock engaging behind me, and made my way across the alley way towards the parking lot. As I did so, I noticed 3 creepy looking punks leaning up against the building on the other side of the intersecting street. Alarm bells went off in my head as they suddenly went into motion, heading directly for me, but not making eye contact with me. The lead punk made a gesture with his hand, and his two companions entered the parking lot through the opening where I was headed, and he continued on towards me. In an instant, I just knew they were going to box me in as soon as I came to the opening in the fence. What the motive was, I have no clue. Probably a mugging, but who knows??
I remember thinking “CRAP. I’m in serious trouble here.” I’m not one to panic, fortunately, but the adrenalin was racing through me instantly and my options were flashing through my mind as I slowed down and tried to come up with something. There wasn’t enough time to backtrack to the church and get buzzed in through the security system.
From a young age I was always taught to carry my keys in my hand when I’m alone, with the ends of the keys poking through my fingers. The only other thing I had was my music bag, which, while heavy, wouldn’t have made a very effective weapon.
I noticed that there was a road crew workman on the street slightly beyond the fence, although he was the only one I could see. He wasn’t paying attention though. Still, he was better than nothing, and I knew I was in need of some immediate help. My remote for the van has a panic button, and I used it, setting off my van near the other two creeps who had already entered the parking lot.
The workman looked up, and immediately saw what was going down, probably because he’d noticed them hanging around and figured they were up to no good. He grabbed his shovel (he’d been filling a pot hole) and boomed out “HEY!” as he started towards us. It was enough, and the three punks veered and walked off in different directions, and whew, away from me. When I met the workman near the fence he took one look at my face, and asked me if I was ok. I thanked him (probably several times) for coming to the rescue. He said he’d take care of calling the police and letting them know what he’d seen.
I sat in my van with the doors locked for several minutes, shaking like a leaf.
Insanity. This happened in a small city, in a normally safe area, behind a church, AND at 2pm in the afternoon! I’ve walked by myself at night in downtown Toronto and never felt a speck of apprehension – how could this happen here? I’m sure it was an anomaly.
J-B insists that I speak to the voice coach and tell him what happened, and ask that from now on he should either walk me to my van after our session, or at least watch from the building as I leave. He’s probably right (don’t tell him I said that) but it sticks in my craw that I might need “looking after”.
Thank you Road Crew Guy, and I’m sorry I didn’t get your name so I could send a proper thank you via the public works department. I’m very, very lucky that you were there, and I know it. Scariest minute I’ve had in a long, long time.
I could have also called this post “What do you find sexy” but with all the steamy haiku lately, I figured I would behave a bit. Well, where titles are concerned, anyway.
So I was on a bit of a drive today, dropping Sadie off to my friend Spendy for grooming, and found myself musing about a number of things. I do that when I’m driving. (I don’t take notes though… that would be bad.)
I got to thinking about how different we all seem to be in terms of what we find attractive and desirable, and what turns us off. ShaMoo and I have conversations like this sometimes… it’s a girlfriend thing I guess. For example, ShaMoo finds Daniel Craig very dreamy, where he doesn’t do anything at all for me.
Oh sure, I get that he’s attractive… sorta. He’s just not my kind of attractive.
Should we break it down? Ok! :)
What do I find attractive about him?
What do I dislike?
Ok, so we’ve picked apart poor Daniel (Sorry, Daniel, nothing personal), but didn’t really get into the root of all of this. I guess I should just talk about what *I* find attractive in a man. Then you can share with me what you find attractive in a significant other. K? K.
For me, it’s less about the whole package, and more about the bits and pieces. And no, I’m not talking about THOSE bits. Well, not on my blog anyway. This isn’t about sex. It’s about magnetism. Attraction. They’re not the same thing, and one does not always need to lead to the other.
I have a real thing about hands. I like a man with a good sized hand. I have long fingers and strong hands, and for whatever reason, it’s important to me that a man’s hand be bigger than mine. I like well formed, well proportioned fingers (not stubby, thanks. Yuck.) and short, clean nails. Hands that you can tell, right away, are capable of working hard, yet being gentle. Not super rough, but not silky smooth, either. Women should have silky smooth hands, not guys. You can tell so much about a man just by looking at and touching his hands.
Back up a bit though. Looking at the man from a few feet away, what do I notice first? Well, I used to think I preferred brunette’s, but since I also dated a couple blondes, a black haired chap, and 3 redheads (and then married one of those red heads), I’m guessing hair colour isn’t a priority for me. It does matter that the hair is short though, and kept that way.
I notice laugh lines. I love a man who laughs with his whole being. If laughter doesn’t reach the eyes… well, something in there isn’t right. A man’s eyes need to have a twinkle in them – and it helps big time if I’m the one that they’re twinkling for.
Not a fan of “swarthy”. Really really not a fan of slick. Greek, Italian – only where salad dressing is concerned, thanks. Give me that clean cut, fresh faced Irish (or Scottish) guy any time.
Oh, and beards? Nope. I don’t like the feel of them. Glasses? Depends on the guy, and how well they chose the frames! I’m not real partial to bald, but I guess it’d depend on the man attached to the scalp…
I prefer a pair of jeans that fit properly, which is so important. Baggy jeans are just ugly. Too-tight jeans make me cringe. It takes time to find a pair of jeans that don’t wear you (as opposed to you wearing them), but a man who can do that AND rock a suit when called for is my cup of tea. My, my, my.
I loooove to watch men work. I like to study how they move, how they approach a problem and solve it, and see the end result. Very sexy stuff.
You’ll notice I didn’t get too descriptive about physiques… turns out it matters less to me than I thought it did. Or at least my preferences have changed since I was a nubile young thing. Being tall myself, I prefer a man who is taller than me, naturally. A flat belly, huge biceps and chiseled abs? Not so much, no. In fact, body builders make me a little queasy. Really, someone who is fairly fit and not overhanging his belt too much is A-OK. Healthy! Yeah, that’s the word.
When you get right down to it, while the immediate physical impression is important, what goes on after that, and the kind of man he turns out to be is far more attractive. Or not.
My ideal man is someone who:
Does a man with all of these traits even exist? Well, I think if he does, he would be next to impossible to find. Certainly unrealistic to expect.
I married a man who has many of those traits, but not all. He can’t rock a suit, for example. He doesn’t react well to stress. At all. But he is very capable of knowing and doing what needs to be done, and rarely complains about it. He’s tall, and has broad shoulders. Nice hands that are used to hard work. He’s dependable, solid, and a really nice guy. And he loves me. After all, it’s been 20 years and we’re still together.
So the whole point of this was really just an exercise in how we perceive other people, and specifically how we’re attracted to them.
What makes you sit up and take notice, Reader?