Creating the wedding playlist and I realize: as a family, we have an odd assortment of musical tastes. 12 days. #WeddingCountdown
— Kiki Marcus (@KikiMarcus) April 22, 2014
Tuesday, April 22, 2014
12 Days - Wedding Countdown
Friday, April 18, 2014
#WeddingCountdown
Listening to 12 yr old practice Here Comes the Bride on her cello w/ harp accompaniment. Ready to start walking right now! #WeddingCountdown
— Kiki Marcus (@KikiMarcus) April 18, 2014
16 Days - Wedding Countdown
Fabulously beautiful shoes today. Now with marriage license. 16 days. #WeddingCountdown
— Kiki Marcus (@KikiMarcus) April 18, 2014
Tuesday, March 4, 2014
Dear Abby - Eat it
Dear Abby columns are one of those things I read to pass the time while waiting for search results on something else. Alright, yes, sometimes it's Miss Manners. Depends on what level of idiot I want wandering through my brain cavity as I wait for the hourglass on the screen to sort itself out. Eventually, there's always an idiot who has an opinion on death or funerals that just... stresses me out.
Here's how I would have responded:
And with that, I think I've found my new calling.
DEAR ABBY:
May I share a pet peeve of mine? I wish you'd raise the consciousness of people who write obituaries and fail to mention the musician who provides the music for the funerals and memorials. The musician often does more preparation for the services than the pallbearers. Why are their names omitted? I usually want to know who they are when I attend.
-- WONDERING IN GEORGIA
DEAR WONDERING:
I can think of a couple of reasons. The first is that some obituaries are actually taken from the eulogy, which may have been written prior to the death by someone in the family. If the obituary was written by an employee of a newspaper, the information may have been taken as part of a standard list of questions about the deceased and any survivors.
Frankly, I think it would be more suitable if the musician's name was included on the program. If it hasn't been included, there is nothing rude about telling the officiant or a family member how much you enjoyed the music and asking who provided it.
Here's how I would have responded:
DEAR LOONEY,
You have to be looney to even think that "pet peeve" and "funeral" belong in the same conversation. Wondering is what I'm left with as I question your level of social awareness.
After the expense of a $10,000 funeral, I don't think the extra $10 it will cost to publish in the newspaper the name, of a likely stranger, who performs at the funeral, will break me. The idea that the performer is of the same fucking relevance as my husband's family, whom he left behind grieving his early death, may actually break me. Which means I may break you. Obituaries aren't public announcements for musical performances. I suggest you attend the local symphony for music and attend to the dead and bereaved at funerals.
Actually, I suggest you stay home. The grieving don't deserve a clod like you using up their tissues.
And with that, I think I've found my new calling.
Tuesday, February 4, 2014
For all those sports fans...
Eventually, everything comes full circle.
In February of 2006, the Seahawks played the Steelers in Superbowl XXsomething-or-other. The only reason I know this is because I watched it. The only reason I watched it is because I married a Packer fan. A Packer fan who wrote a sports blog with a Seahawks fan. Both of them, oddly enough, named Steve. Which is where they came up with the blog name of SportsBlogSteves.com.
My mama had always told me "Your man will be into one thing above all others. Probably it will be a sport, I'm sorry to say. Join him in it. Wholeheartedly and with enthusiasm, join him. It will give strength to your marriage."
She was right.
Steve was a Green Bay Packers fan through and through. His words to me early on were "I'm a Packer fan. Deal with it."
So I did.
I asked him to teach me football. To not speak over my head, excluding me from actually learning by using a language I didn't know. To not yell at me if I talked over an important play, cause I wasn't doing it on purpose. To help me become a true fan.
And he did.
Getting TiVo helped immensely. Instead of talking over plays, we just rewound and watched over and again until I understood the play or rule or nuance. Eventually we used it to rewind and argue about plays before hearing what the refs called. He seemed proudest when I won the rewind arguments. We tried to catch up at commercials but in our household, we finished watching the game bout a half hour behind the rest of the world.
By the early spring of 2006, I was an avid Packer fan and pretty decent at watching football in general. I couldn't speak to coaches or players outside of the Pack but I knew what I was watching, knew the positions and rules and felt comfortable making comments in rooms full of men watching football. So when we sat down to watch the Seahawks face the Steelers, I was excited for our friend.
Imagine my surprise to see officiating so bad I had to wonder what mafioso had bought the outcome. My Steve wrote a post about the game and said this:
Fast-forward to February 6, 2011. Steve died six months earlier and his team was headed to the Super Bowl. I hadn't even woken out of my widow-fog to realize what was happening until sometime in the playoffs, though I had been in front of a TV for every game. When I did finally waken enough to see what was going on, I shook. I wanted the Pack to go to the Super Bowl. I wanted them to win. It felt right and proper and fitting. Considering my husband had just died at 47 leaving me a widow at 36, proper and fitting had no place in my world. Hence, the nervousness.
There's a whole other post I could write, and have tried to write, about being a widow and watching my beloved's team make it to the Super Bowl the season after his death. Today what I'll say is... the Packers played the Steelers. The cheating team that had already stolen a Super Bowl from our friend up north.
And though I could barely watch the game, and the memories of that night are mostly fogged in, one stands out clear. A Steelers fan had made it into my house that night. And sitting in my dead husband's recliner she made a comment about an unfair call by the refs after having repeatedly screamed about taking Rodger's "out at the knees". To which I replied something along the lines of "it was a fair call (and it was), it's only fair turnabout after the last Super Bowl you cheaters showed up to play at, we don't dirty talk about intentionally hurting players in this house so watch your mouth, and get your scrawny ass out of my dead husband's chair before I actually hurt you."
Packers won the Super Bowl that night. Which felt right and proper and fitting for my dead husband. And brought a little joy to some Seahawks fans. But the circle wasn't complete. Not until this past Sunday when the Seahawks got a second chance to win the game they were supposed to win, should have won, eight years ago.
And while I'm excited and happy for our geographically challenged Seahawks friend, Steve. I feel a loss that my Stevie wasn't here to cheer and scream for his friend's team. The blogging they would have done! So I'm writing it for my Stevie. For our friend, Steve.
St. Ides, this is for you. We've come full circle now. Congrats.
In February of 2006, the Seahawks played the Steelers in Superbowl XXsomething-or-other. The only reason I know this is because I watched it. The only reason I watched it is because I married a Packer fan. A Packer fan who wrote a sports blog with a Seahawks fan. Both of them, oddly enough, named Steve. Which is where they came up with the blog name of SportsBlogSteves.com.
My mama had always told me "Your man will be into one thing above all others. Probably it will be a sport, I'm sorry to say. Join him in it. Wholeheartedly and with enthusiasm, join him. It will give strength to your marriage."
She was right.
Steve was a Green Bay Packers fan through and through. His words to me early on were "I'm a Packer fan. Deal with it."
So I did.
I asked him to teach me football. To not speak over my head, excluding me from actually learning by using a language I didn't know. To not yell at me if I talked over an important play, cause I wasn't doing it on purpose. To help me become a true fan.
And he did.
Getting TiVo helped immensely. Instead of talking over plays, we just rewound and watched over and again until I understood the play or rule or nuance. Eventually we used it to rewind and argue about plays before hearing what the refs called. He seemed proudest when I won the rewind arguments. We tried to catch up at commercials but in our household, we finished watching the game bout a half hour behind the rest of the world.
By the early spring of 2006, I was an avid Packer fan and pretty decent at watching football in general. I couldn't speak to coaches or players outside of the Pack but I knew what I was watching, knew the positions and rules and felt comfortable making comments in rooms full of men watching football. So when we sat down to watch the Seahawks face the Steelers, I was excited for our friend.
Imagine my surprise to see officiating so bad I had to wonder what mafioso had bought the outcome. My Steve wrote a post about the game and said this:
This wasn’t just one bad call, this was a consistent and deliberate agenda, a fraud perpetrated against the Seahawks by the officials. Every time Pittsburgh needed a call they got it. Every time Seattle began to move the ball, a call went against them. It was obvious and shameful.
Fast-forward to February 6, 2011. Steve died six months earlier and his team was headed to the Super Bowl. I hadn't even woken out of my widow-fog to realize what was happening until sometime in the playoffs, though I had been in front of a TV for every game. When I did finally waken enough to see what was going on, I shook. I wanted the Pack to go to the Super Bowl. I wanted them to win. It felt right and proper and fitting. Considering my husband had just died at 47 leaving me a widow at 36, proper and fitting had no place in my world. Hence, the nervousness.
There's a whole other post I could write, and have tried to write, about being a widow and watching my beloved's team make it to the Super Bowl the season after his death. Today what I'll say is... the Packers played the Steelers. The cheating team that had already stolen a Super Bowl from our friend up north.
And though I could barely watch the game, and the memories of that night are mostly fogged in, one stands out clear. A Steelers fan had made it into my house that night. And sitting in my dead husband's recliner she made a comment about an unfair call by the refs after having repeatedly screamed about taking Rodger's "out at the knees". To which I replied something along the lines of "it was a fair call (and it was), it's only fair turnabout after the last Super Bowl you cheaters showed up to play at, we don't dirty talk about intentionally hurting players in this house so watch your mouth, and get your scrawny ass out of my dead husband's chair before I actually hurt you."
Packers won the Super Bowl that night. Which felt right and proper and fitting for my dead husband. And brought a little joy to some Seahawks fans. But the circle wasn't complete. Not until this past Sunday when the Seahawks got a second chance to win the game they were supposed to win, should have won, eight years ago.
And while I'm excited and happy for our geographically challenged Seahawks friend, Steve. I feel a loss that my Stevie wasn't here to cheer and scream for his friend's team. The blogging they would have done! So I'm writing it for my Stevie. For our friend, Steve.
St. Ides, this is for you. We've come full circle now. Congrats.
Monday, February 3, 2014
Interview
Some tattoos have deep meaning. Read more, and hear @KikiMarcus share the story behind her memorial tattoo here. http://t.co/xl6dRuVr6T
— Brittany Keeperman (@BodyModChicago) February 4, 2014
Tuesday, January 21, 2014
Love Don't Die - The Fray
If I know one thing, that's true
It ain't what you say, it's what you do
And you don't say much, yeah, that's true
But I listen when you do
A thousand years go by
But love don't die
If I know one thing, that's true
It's that I'm never leaving you
And you don't say much, yeah, that's true
But I lose it when you do
Don't let them tell no lie
Love don't die
No matter where we go
Or even if we don't
And even if they try
They'll never take my body from your side
Love don't die
If there is one thing, that's true
It's not what I say, it's what I do
And I say too much, yeah, that's true
So just listen to what I do
A thousand years go by
But love don't die
No matter where we go
Or even if we don't
And even if they try
They'll never take my body from your side
Love don't die
She can break it up
She can burn it down
You can box it in
Bury it in the ground
You can close it off
And turn it away
Try to keep it down,
Six feet in the ground
But love don't die
No matter where we go
Or even if we don't
And even if they try
They'll never take my body from your side
Love don't die
No matter where we go
Or even if we don't
I’d like to watch them try
They'll never take my body from your side
Love don't die
It ain't what you say, it's what you do
And you don't say much, yeah, that's true
But I listen when you do
A thousand years go by
But love don't die
If I know one thing, that's true
It's that I'm never leaving you
And you don't say much, yeah, that's true
But I lose it when you do
Don't let them tell no lie
Love don't die
No matter where we go
Or even if we don't
And even if they try
They'll never take my body from your side
Love don't die
If there is one thing, that's true
It's not what I say, it's what I do
And I say too much, yeah, that's true
So just listen to what I do
A thousand years go by
But love don't die
No matter where we go
Or even if we don't
And even if they try
They'll never take my body from your side
Love don't die
She can break it up
She can burn it down
You can box it in
Bury it in the ground
You can close it off
And turn it away
Try to keep it down,
Six feet in the ground
But love don't die
No matter where we go
Or even if we don't
And even if they try
They'll never take my body from your side
Love don't die
No matter where we go
Or even if we don't
I’d like to watch them try
They'll never take my body from your side
Love don't die
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