Hell hath no fury like a stomach scorned.

So, this blog is pretty much the furthest thing from a politics blog.

And, I also know that not everyone who reads Austin Eavesdropper is necessarily a Democrat, or an Obama supporter.  The post you are about to read comes from the perspective of both of those things, but more importantly, it comes from the perspective of someone who got sick over the weekend.

If you are anti-Obama, anti-health care reform, or simply, "wh-WHAT?  Politics, bleh!!" then you can hop out of this post right now, no hard feelings.  May I recommend this wonderful alternative?

That being said, if you are indeed anti-Obama or anti-health care reform, maybe this post will help you understand why a girl like me -- healthy and employed -- is desperate for her country to provide better health care.

* * *

I started this post in the middle of the night between Sunday and Monday, and for about 36 hours, I've been dealing with a super nasty stomach bug.  I think it's just about run its course, thank God (and thank Pepto Bismol).

But last night, just as the Oscars were getting started, I started making some phone calls to local clinics.  Without getting too graphic about it, I lost five pounds this weekend in a rather unattractive manner.  I'll let you use your imagination.  Since I'm pretty small, five pounds is a lot for me.

The first place I called was the People's Clinic here in Austin.  I used to go there years ago when I didn't have any health insurance.  The clinic was closed, but fortunately they had an after-hours line with a kind nurse.  She asked me about my insurance.

"Um ... I have private insurance," I told her, nervously.  "But my deductible is so high that I'd probably pay out of pocket."

"Oh," she said.  "The Clinic doesn't take the privately insured."

Now let's back up. 

I am technically a contract worker, so I don't have company health care.  Ross works for a school that we love, but it does not provide health care either.  We have to buy a private plan.

Secondly: "Deductibles." Up until very recently I was a total insurance bonehead and had no idea what "deductibles" were.  That is the amount you have to pay at the hospital or doctor's office before your insurance kicks in and starts covering things.  Ours is $5000.  Which is what's commonly known as "hit by a bus" insurance.  So, unless a visit is more than $5000, Ross and I are paying for the visit ourselves. 

Last summer, shortly after I became a contract worker and right before Ross left for Brazil, I shopped around online for private insurance and found the very best plan I could.  For Ross and I both, this insurance is about $300/month, and it does not cover dental or maternity.  For us, that amount feels like a lot, but we know we have to have it in case something truly awful (piano on the head, hair dryer electrocution, food poisoning as a result of my cooking?) did befall us.

Now, back to the story.

Since the People's Clinic wouldn't see a patient like me, the nurse on the phone gave me the number for Austin Regional Clinic and one other facility, NextCare.  I tried ARC first; closed.  It was a Sunday evening, after all.  So I called NextCare.

"HELLO!" chirped the girl answering the phone.  "And how may NextCare help you today!"

I explained to her my stomach situation, as well as my insurance situation.

"Visits start at $200 and go up to $450!" she sang into the phone.  My face fell.

"You can also buy a ValueCare Card for $50 upon your visit which can help you save moneeeey!" she said.

"So, if I did that, my minimum visit cost would then be $250?" I asked.

"Oh!  Um ... yes," she stumbled, her cheerfulness tempered by an unexpected question.  "Yes, for your visit, minimum $200, plus the card, it would be $250, maximum it would be $500."

"Thank you," I said, and hung up.

* * *

I decided to wait it out.  My stomach still hurts a little.

I think a lot of people with medical issues decide to just wait it out, because unless they have employer insurance, private is kind of a joke.

So it upsets me when people who are lucky enough to have employer-based insurance, or have the means to buy extremely thorough private insurance, get hateful and up in arms about health care reform.

In all likelihood, what I had this weekend was a simple stomach flu.  But what if it was something more serious?  What if I had discovered some weird lump on my body?  Broken my arm?  Had a minor heart attack?

Answer: Ross and I would be out A LOT OF MONEY.   And oddly, we are both employed.  We take care of ourselves.  We did the responsible thing, we did shop around for health care.

But I'm sorry, the theory that government should stay out of health care, because competition among private insurers will make insurance more affordable, just simply is not the case.

Why?  Because people need health care.  When it's your health, you will pretty much pay whatever you have to, because what choice do you have?   You can either cough up a lot of money, or you can wait it out like I'm doing, and hope for the best.

* * *

By now it's an old refrain, but it's still true:  It's about freaking time we had health care reform in the United States.

I live in a city of freelancers -- Austin -- and our city represents a trend that more individuals want to follow nationwide.  That is: Working for yourself.

As it stands though, affordable health care is almost completely dependent on company employment.  I don't think companies are evil, but I do think there is an implicit assumption here.  That is:

You being a worker = You are worth care.  

Rather than:

You being alive = You are worth care.

I mean really.  If you're out of work and sick, you're just supposed to go into debt and that's that?  Besides that being inhumane, that doesn't even make sense to me from an economic standpoint.  If a sick individual has the means to get better, that means he or she can more quickly re-enter the workforce. 

ANYWAY.  I went to the Wikipedia page for Obama's health care plan tonight.  Before I wrote this post and risked either A) pissing people off or B) boring people to death, I wanted to get my facts straight.

Some of the biggest (and in my opinion most awesome) changes include:

--Everybody in the U.S. has to buy health insurance.  (If you cannot pay for it, you can go on Medicaid).  Which is just like car insurance in the state of Texas.  Let's face it:  Unless it's a legal issue, most people don't buy insurance unless they absolutely have to.  But when everybody buys in, the pool of available health care funds is larger.  That means we're helping each other stay healthy and get well, rather than relying solely on corporately-run health insurance companies. 

--You'll be able to go online and comparison-shop for health care.  If you're like me, and don't have employer-based insurance but you're also not on a government program, like Medicaid or Medicare, you can buy private on an Internet site which lists plans side-by-side.  Massachusetts has this already, and as a little test I filled it out just now for Ross and I.  I found a plan that is more expensive monthly ($480/month), but instead of a $5000 deductible it's a $250 deductible.  WHICH IS KIND OF AMAZING.  This is what happens when a state agency works with corporate health care plans: The site only allows plans that have gotten their stamp of approval, so they generally don't allow stupid $5000 deductibles.

--Insurance companies can't refuse you if you're already sick.  Ah, the pre-existing condition.  Right now, you basically can't get health care insurance if you have cancer or diabetes.  But some insurers currently reject you if you have acne or asthma!  I'm not making this up.  I think everyone, including Republicans, recognizes that this is a problem.

To be fair, I Googled "Republican health care plan 2011."  I wanted to see if Republicans had in fact outlined an alternative to Obama's health care plan, since by and large they do not seem to like it.

According to this January story by The New York Times, many Republicans want to repeal Obama's health care plan but still want to accomplish many of the same objectives: They want to help people with pre-existing conditions find affordable coverage, want to lower health insurance premiums, etc.

But they did not say how this would happen.

They also do not "want to impose detailed federal requirements on individuals, families, employers or states."

So ... I don't think this is a "plan," exactly.

(PS.  I realize it's The New York Times, so if you are a Republican reading this and believe that particular news outlet is biased, please feel free to send over a story on this same topic by a different news outlet.)

Now, anyone who's seen Precious knows that there are some people who take advantage of the system, who abuse federal or state-run programs like welfare.  This is true and I can't deny it.

But I think there are a ton of us who are making a decent living, are individuals contributing to our society, are healthy and employed, who have quite simply been failed by health insurance companies.  We don't want to take advantage of the system; we just want some system that will help us stay well, and not go into debt.

* * * 

It makes me cringe whenever I hear people say: "I shouldn't have to pay for some stranger's medical bill!" regarding health care and taxes.

But I think they miss out on something potentially beautiful when they adopt that kind of thinking.

Because when you theoretically "pay for some stranger's medical bill," you are entering into a partnership.  Eventually, someone will help you pay for your medical bill.   Taxes -- which we, and every citizen in every developed nation pay -- are a symbol that we're all in this together.  Someone out there helped fund the paved street you drive on today.  Another person helped pay for the delivery of your mail.

Americans have always had a fraught relationship with taxes.  And I know Obama's health care bill is a lot bigger than taxes: It's a fundamental shift in philosophy, that we stop trusting companies so much, and start trusting our government a little more, to take care of us.  Which to many sounds laughable.

But this girl and her stomach flu says, BRING ON HEALTH CARE REFORM.  I cannot wait for 2014 when most of this stuff goes into effect.  Some of you might be reading right now saying, "poor, poor naive girl.  She just doesn't know what she's in for.  Obama truly has her duped."

Look, if Obama's health care plan really is the spawn of Satan, then we can vote to change it.  That's the great thing about being in a democracy.  In the meantime, I'm just so happy that someone finally gave health care reform a shot, and that we at least have the opportunity to try something different.

Did you hear that?  It was my stomach growling in agreement.

A rock n' roll Friday: Bright Light Social Hour.

This next video combines four of my favorite things: Do512's new music lounge in downtown Austin, local rock band Bright Light Social Hour, red velvet, and colored lights.

As you can see in the video below, this is more than a recipe for success -- it makes you want to jump right in that swanky dance party and get your groove on.

I met Bright Light Social Hour last week at the ACVB CD Release Party, and instantly fell in love with these guys.  During media interviews, some bands are all aloof and too-cool, answering with "it's like ... whatever" to your questions, but not these guys.  They were just as interested in my little blog as I was in their band, and regaled me with stories of skinny-dipping in their college fountain -- which we found out was also MY college, as two of the band members are SU alums!  Go us.  And go Pirates.

If you live here in Austin, you probably saw Bright Light Social Hour on the cover of The Austin Chronicle this month:

They do love to skinny-dip.

Listen to the whole Bright Light Social Hour's debut album here.  How much do you love "Shanty," the first track?

My aerial dance debut.

So, remember a few weeks ago when I mentioned signing up for aerial dance classes?

Well, I have now completed a beginner's session!  It was 12 classes, about a month and a half long, and I learned a little dance at the end of it.  HERE IT IS.

Be kind!  I taped this with another girl on Tuesday night, and we are not always in sync ... but oh well.  I accidentally skipped a move toward the end!  My partner is incredibly graceful and flexible, and only 17 if you can believe it!  I wanted to tape this with her so I could be inspired, because I love the way she dances.  PS, I am the one on the right.

Eh, not the most graceful landing.  But overall not bad, right?

I start intermediate classes next week, and I am scared / excited.  There is a wide range of ability in intermediate, apparently, and I know a lot of it will be over my head.  But that's ok!  Even when I can't get a move, and am beating myself up in the car later on, I am still just so blown away by how much I have fallen in love with aerial, and how grateful I am that classes like these are available in my city.  I danced a little bit when I was younger, but I've never done anything like this.  It honestly feels like Circus School sometimes.

PS, if this has inspired you in any way to try aerial dance and you live in Austin, I am taking it at Blue Lapis Light.  The instructors are absolutely wonderful, and I would love to see you in a class sometime.  The next session starts next week!

"Sometimes I bought Vogue instead of dinner. I found it fed me more."

I'm having a Carrie Bradshaw kinda week.

No sooner did I post that little diddy yesterday with a photo of Carrie and Big looking earnestly at each other, than I spied this neat invitation in my inbox.  Vogue is coming to Austin:

(Click to enlarge).

Did you know that Joan Didion, Patron Saint of My Laptop, used to write for Vogue?

Her very first job when she moved to New York was being a promotional copywriter for the magazine.  But eventually, she became ... effing Joan Didion.

Anyway, today is another gray day in Austin -- c'mon, weather!  Enough already! -- so I thought I'd have some fun with this Vogue post.  Here are some vintage Vogue covers, and the intriguing little stories they tell about us.

October 1943.  Isn't this interesting?  Not a cover model in sight.  But a telling caption nonetheless: "8 New Ways to Double Your Clothes Money."  Ahh early 1940s ... American ladies tentatively opening their pocketbooks back up after the Great Depression.

April 1950.  Lady Gaga would dig the face netting, no?

The early 1950s were a cool time in graphic design:  Artists, fed up with patriotic and overly sentimental US images borne from their country's wars, started getting a bit edgier.  Jasper Johns came of age in the 1950s, as did the Beats, writing on topics and in formats the reading public had never seen before.

For a decade with tend to think of as utterly conformist, you really can see the artistic experimentation everywhere -- including Vogue.

January 1950.   Don't you love this wild cover art?

August 1954, British Vogue.  Again with the cool, concept-y cover art!  I wish today's women's magazines embraced this bolder, experimental cover style.

And finally, just for kicks.  This has little to do with Vogue but everything to do with awesome, a photo shoot my fashion designer buddy Rene and I did recently at her boutique which involved her dog, Jack.

That's Jack looking up at me; what you can't see is a live rabbit in my arms!  (Also Rene's).  

If Jack's sweet doggy face looks a little perplexed, that is probably why.  "What is that creature she's holding?"

Finding the balance between going out and staying in.

(NOTE: I posted this piece last Friday, then deleted it.  I realized I needed a little more time to ruminate on this subject ... so!   If you've already seen this in your email or RSS feed, my apologies.  I rewrote it and, I hope you like the updated version!  --T)


* * *


Last Friday night, Ross and I were driving home from a company happy hour at The Belmont.  He steered the car down 5th Street, home to what used to be a semi-regular haunt of mine, The Whiskey Bar.

"Gawd," I said disparagingly.  "I am so over bar-hopping downtown."

"Really?" he said.

"Pssh, yes," I said.  "Obviously.  It's Friday night, but right now I would rather go home and watch Netlfix with yoooou."

He smiled at the sentiment.  Still, Ross can always call me on my BS.

"I mean, I guess you go out less now than you used to.  Which was all the time."

This past week, I've been thinking hard about what he said.

Because right now, compared to some of my friends -- younger, hipper, or generally more energetic -- I feel like the biggest Grandma.

See, on many Friday and Saturday nights, I really would rather skip Red River (or east 6th, or a simple house party) to watch nature documentaries at home with Ross.  Did you know that the wolverine is the largest member of the weasel family?  Neither did I, until last Friday night. 

But there's a tipping point with staying in.  And whether you live in Austin or not, you probably know what I'm talking about.

It's the point at which you begin to feel cabin fever.   When you sense you're not quite tasting the great big world out there.  When you start to feel a little isolated, a bit out-of-touch, and slang or pop cultural references or even current events sail right over your head ("oh, there's a revolution going on in Egypt?  No kidding?") 

I was nearing this point myself last Thursday, when I slapped on some makeup and presented an award at Chris Apollo Lynn's fantastic Roaries.   I had just come from aerial dance and probably smelled bad.  But the whole experience of going out, in a dress, watching a show and seeing a million people was pretty darn thrilling, maybe even more so than it would have been a year ago.

That's because I stay in more.

* * *

About a year ago, Ross and I looked at each other, and realized we were living highly independent lives.

"It's good that you have your own interests!"  friends would say.  "I hate it when couples get married and just shack up at home.  We never see them anymore.  It's lame."

Maybe.  Or perhaps they're doing something right.

One year ago, the concentric circles joining Ross' interests, and my interests, drifted into two wholly different spheres of their own.  I was (still am) addicted to the novelties of Austin; Ross was immersed in fascinations all his own. 

"Did you hear about the Passion Pit show next week?"  I'd ask him.  He'd just look at me, puzzled.

"What is 'Passion Pit'?  By the way, have you seen my Portuguese language CDs anywhere?"

"You're taking Portuguese?"

"Si.  El gato no prefira aceitar un banho."

It was at this point I realized that I truly had no idea what he was talking about.

* * *

For a while, I really took it for granted that when you get married, it's nice to have mutual interests.  Not only because I can be a boneheaded only child, but Ross is just so good-natured about everything I do.   He even dropped me off on 6th Street not too long ago so I could go to some show at The Parish.  "Bye!" I waved, stepping over broken glass and a passed out frat guy.

But at some point last year, we just kind of decided to be more of a team.  I chilled out my manic weekend-planning; he ponied up and came with me to more stuff.  And I guess that's the point I'm driving at here:  That it's hard to find the balance between going out and staying in.  Especially in a city like Austin, especially if you're part of a couple.

Hell, even if you're not in a couple, it may take a few tries before you get it right.  Go out too much, and you stop sleeping.   You're overstimulated to the point where everything is boring, you've tried every restaurant and every bar, you've seen God knows how many bands, and they all kind of fade into the same neon-lit horizon.  Your culture knowledge does become staggering --  I know people who are little walking encyclopedias of indie bands, sleeper films, and hidden food trailers -- but it gets harder to hear yourself think.    

So.  A year after our realization, Ross and I are still working on this: Figuring out stuff we like to do together.  Here is our current list:

• Eating

• Talking

• Watching nature documentaries

Riveting stuff, isn't it?

But since I made somewhat of a conscious decision to go out a bit less, and spend more time doing whatever with Ross at home, I love it.  One of the biggest reasons I married this man was because he's so damn fun to talk to, and trust me, I talk his ear off.   I know this sounds almost silly for two people who are married, but now that we have more stuff in common, our conversations have upgraded.  Conversations are extremely important to me, period, but they should be especially important with your husband, right? 

Also, when I do go out now, shows are AMAZING.  Restaurants are WOW!  So creative with their MENUS!  My people-watching happens in blinding technicolor, so special is the occasion to go out and observe a crowd full of absolute strangers. 

Last Thursday, I was gawking at some girl's outfit at the Roaries, because I am not the most subtle people-watcher.  And I said to the people I was talking to, or rather shouted, "DON'T YOU LOVE THE WAY SHE TUCKED IN HER BLOUSE TO HER SKIRT?  IT'S SO WELL-PROPORTIONED!  WOW!!"

One of my friends said, "Tolly, you seriously need to get out more."

But I'm enjoying this new cluelessness.  I've traded a bit of nightlife for a lot more time with Ross, and as a result I am more fascinated by him.

Ironically, I'm more fascinated by Austin too.

Injecting some color into this gray Sunday: Lisa Congdon.

Doesn't this picture look so Hitchcock?

I took this just now on my street.   Friends, it's quite a gray morning in Austin, Texas.

The very first year I was in grad school, it rained all of the time.  And in California no less, purportedly the land of sunshine and movie stars.  

I called home constantly, whining about the jip deal I got.  "Why is the weather so bad here?" I'd cry to Ross.  "It looks nothing like it did on my visit!  Everything is wet and nasty!"  

I missed Austin and I missed my friends and I missed having shoes that stayed dry.  I missed the parched grass and the sunburns when I forgot to wear sunscreen and the languid way we central Texans work through August, half unconscious because the heat has stalled proper brain function.  I'd cry to friends that I'd take all of that, with a broken AC unit, just to be out of this drizzly, cold California nonsense.

Finally, someone in my program suggested that I get in my car and drive to San Francisco, which wasn't that far away.  Because even if I was damp and shivering, at least I could be damp and shivering on the Castro.  And if Harvey Milk had overcome collective homophobia on the Castro, surely, surely I could overcome a soggy pair of socks.

On the way there I got a little lost (naturally) and wandered my way down Market Street.  That was where I stumbled into what appeared to be a brand new gallery: Rare Device, and once inside, I picked up a piece by artist Lisa Congdon. 

Her stuff was so goofy and delightful.  I couldn't afford anything, by I wanted it badly.  So after that day, I just sort of followed her online over the years, making her art my desktop wallpaper and following her site to see when she had new stuff.

So, imagine my delight when I was browsing through the Free People blog on Friday, and discovered a whole post devoted to Lisa!

(I realize how bizarre it is that I'm talking about her like she's my friend.)

Anyway, a few years after I walked into Rare Device, and first saw that little piece by Lisa, she went on to buy the gallery herself and run it with a partner.  They sold it this month to a couple in San Francisco ... so I wonder what Lisa is up to now.

Funny how long I've been stalking this person, eh?

As you may or may not know, Ross and I are house-hunting right now, so if we are successful I'm thinking I'll christen the new place with some Lisa's.  Here is her Etsy shop if you love her stuff as much as I do.

Home is where the bird, I mean the heart, is: Q&A with Ingle Talk.

I'm telling you guys, Jessica Giesey (Bluelight Photography)'s photos are the gifts that keep on giving.

Ever since she came over here and did a shoot, the resulting post has piqued the interest of some home decor people!  Which is great because we are total decor amateurs over here!  The Statesman did a style story on the house, which was nice for Ross, because I vacuumed every single day leading up to the shoot.   And that's not out of character at all.

Now, sweet Maureen Stevens of Ingle Talk has done a little Q&A with me on the house!  She asked good questions too, like "Why are we both so obsessed with birds in decor?"  (I'm paraphrasing).   Because it's true, I can't stop putting birds all over the damn house.  Just like these people.

 

Click to enlarge, or better yet, go have a gander will ya? Maybe leave Maureen a comment for being so awesome! And congratulate her on just getting married ...

That's probably the best dance move of all time.

I love you but I've chosen tres leches: Urban, An American Grill.

This past Saturday, Ross and I took ourselves out for a fancy meal at Urban, An American Grill.  They were doing that "Love Is In The Mix" mixology night, and since I made such a big deal out of a restaurant here doing one of those, we figured, what the heck?  Let's try it out!

(PS, just so we're clear:  "Urban, An American Grill" is the restaurant's full name.  I'm not trying to clarify it for you after the comma, like ... "Chilis, A Southwestern Chain Restaurant" or "Luby's, A Retirement Home Favorite."  For ease of posting though, I shall hereby shorten it to simply "Urban" from here on out.)

On the drinks side, we started things out demurely enough.  Just two glasses of pink champagne, please!

Then, we were handed the cocktail menu.

This is how things progressed:

Soon, we were totally surrounded by alcohol.

Now miraculously, I managed to remain relatively sober throughout the whole meal.  Because on some level, I realized that I wanted to come home and write this restaurant review for you.  Wasn't that considerate of me?   What a tough job it was, too, eating seven chef-prepared dishes -- three of which were dessert.

My beloved Avocado Tres Leches, topped with sun-dried tomato crème fraiche.

Saffron Semifreddo, with lavender brittle and candied olive pieces.

There were three desserts ... but the chocolate one got eaten by me in 0.2 seconds by the others before I could snap a picture.

We must have been in a seafood mood, because we ordered three different types of ocean-dwelling creature.

Urban's scallops are deeply satisfying: Slightly crunchy on the outside and browned just right, meaty and rich when you bite in.

Oysters are always the way you can tell if the kitchen is sourcing properly.  Do they use reliable vendors?  You'll know quickly after the customers eat their oysters.

My favorite way to eat oysters is to pick them out with a fork, dab them on a saltine and add a little hot sauce.  I can't remember what I did that night (note abundant cocktail photos above), but I do remember I licked my lips as they went down.

This snapper was divine, but the beet risotto even better.  Is someone reading my mind and its attendant obsession with beets?  Better yet, may I flatter myself into thinking that the chefs of Austin are reading my blog?  If so, welcome chefs!  And KEEP COOKING BEETS.  I LOVE THEM.

Now if you're not careful, risotto can become one of two things: Either too rich or too salty.  Rice just begs us to make it a little more sexy, and oils, plus sodium, are the easiest ways to accomplish that.

But beets -- my beets! -- are sugary.  They added an element of sweetness to this side dish that I had never tasted in risotto before, and I made Ross promise that he would attempt to cook this some day.

This last dish has the best name of all-time: Steak and Beggar's Purse.  Beggar's Purse!!  I can't believe I'm just now hearing of this.  Apparently it's very traditional.  It sounds like rustic Ireland.  

You can't see it here, but the steak was served on top of banana polenta, which won Ross's MPV Dinner vote.  Depending on how you prepare it, polenta often has a cornbread quality, but this was almost like a creamy pudding. 

Our server told us the banana is primarily used as a textural, and not a taste, element in the recipe.  She was right: You can't detect the banana on your taste buds, but you know that something, something has smoothed out polenta's natural grit.  It's delicious.

We like to play with our food (and drinks).

Thank you for feeding us, Urban!

Robyn and the innocent side of female pop.

Remember when I said I was over synthesizers?

I might have been lying to you.

Remember when I also said I had crossed over to a warm, healthy embrace of real instruments?

Also a lie.

How do I know this?  Well, because Robyn is coming to Austin on Thursday.  Her music is unabashedly, take no prisoners pop.  I feel a teeny weeny bit guilty for enjoying it, and yet I do enjoy it, in a dance in front of the mirror, lip-sync into the hairbrush kind of way.

However.

It's all ok, because do you know who else has this fraught relationship with real vs. unreal instruments?  Robyn herself.

Observe the drum machine being plugged in during the opening seconds of her (2010) video for "Hang With Me."

Did you also see the synthesizer?  And many buttons being pressed, as if to indicate "we're doing high-tech kinda music around here?"

Now.  Take a trip with me down memory lane, to Robyn of 1997.

Why, look at that.   It's a humongous drum kit!  With a bassist.  Even the guy with the keyboard is playing it like a little guitar.  What we have here is a full on real-person band, with many real instruments (and some CK1 commercial extras).

You see?  Robyn and I share this internal struggle.

To me, Robyn is the 21st century version of Tiffany, albeit with a much longer career, and contemporary hair and clothes.  Like Tiffany of yesteryear, Robyn is sweet, innocent, and accessible to tween girls.

And, I think we just need to take a moment to appreciate that.  That female-fronted pop hasn't totally gone the way of Mileys, by which I mean, sexualized into ridiculousness.  That there is a tradition of female pop singers out there who really do just want to have fun.

(And now that I think of it, there's a lot of highly sexual pop that's not ridiculous at all.  Remember when "Justify My Love" came out?  And how very seriously we took that?   No one was laughing at Madonna then.  No.  At that moment, a few might have been scared of Madonna, a lot might have been turned on by Madonna, but not a single soul was laughing at Madonna).

Lest you think Robyn is purely PG and radio-friendly, take a gander at my favorite video, below.   This came out in 2007, and Robyn made it partially to celebrate her move to her own indie label, Konichiwa.  Appropriately enough, it's called "Konichiwa Bitches."

(Yes! Again we start out with a discussion of drums!)  I am thinking Sia almost certainly watched that Robyn video, and borrowed a few ideas for 2009's "You've Changed."

PS, next time I tell you I don't like synthesizers, you can pretty much tell me to shut up.

Robyn is playing for Austin City Limits Live at The Moody Theater (310 Willie Nelson Blvd) on Thursday, and tickets are a steal at $15.   for tickets, click here.

Happy Valentine's Day, Husband.

I am a sentimental fool, and everyone knows it.

When I was a kid, I very carefully decorated my Valentine's Day bag with glitter and markers, hoping-against-hope that my 4th grade crush would see fit to drop a carnation inside of it.  That was before I knew that you can't (always) get a boy's attention with glitter, and that you shouldn't (ever) hope for carnations, that most pedestrian of plants, that weed-posing-as-a-proper-flower.

I say, screw that.

I'll take Valentine's Day with its glitter, its carnations, all of its glorious tackiness!  It gives me an excuse to haul out our wedding photos, you see.

Ross and I got married up the street from our house, at the school where we met seven years ago, teaching.  The sweet woman who married us was a mother from the school.

I wore the very first dress I tried on, and was really proud of Ross for picking out his and all of the groomsmen tuxedos.  I learned why fake eyelashes are a dumb idea at your wedding, because you'll probably cry, and they'll probably fall off at some point (which mine did, in the car on the way to the reception).  But I didn't care!

Ross and I took tango lessons before the wedding, at a dance studio in a strip mall in north central Austin.  We wanted to WOW everyone with our first dance, but instead of a tango, we decided on "As Long As We've Got Each Other" instead.  I honestly don't remember dipping, despite photographic evidence ... but as you can see, the maneuver was a big hit with my mom.

Now, more self-conscious husbands might read their wife's blog blubbering on Valentine's Day and think, dear God I am taking her laptop away.

But Ross kindly puts up with it every time I gush to the whole wide Internet about how kickass I think he is.

Thank you for letting me do that, Husband!   Because it's true.  You are my best friend, you're my adventure partner, you're my favorite listener and advice-giver.  You cook me things and you say "yay Wife!" when I successfully cook something.  You sang me Elvis on our wedding day, and I just about melted into a swoony mess.   You don't roll your eyes when I cry (which is all the time), you laugh at me when I'm laughing because sometimes I get so tickled I can't talk for a few seconds.

I am your #1 biggest fan, Husband.  I love you so much!