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Yesterday was Frank Sinatra’s birthday. Ben sent me a text message reminding me, but I didn’t need a reminder. I’ve been in love with Sinatra my entire life. In fact, he’s the first crush I ever had.

My Grandma Leavitt played a lot of big band music when I was little, which explains my love of it. It reminds me of her, and now that she’s gone I really, really like having that reminder. The first time she played a Sinatra song I announced to her I was going to be in love with him forever. From that point on whenever I spent time at her house I wanted to listen to him. I used to put on a dress and sit and listen to his records. When my grandmother asked me why I needed a dress on, I said, “I need to be pretty in case he comes to marry me.” And even though he didn’t come to marry me, I still listen to his music obsessively all these years later.

My mother bought me the below Frank Sinatra doll a few years ago for Christmas. I love it! In fact if there were a fire in my apartment and I only had time to save a few things I’d save the doll, and my baby blanket. Depending on how much Daisy farted that day I may save her, but chances are the fire would be a direct result from her ass.

My Google Chat personal message today reads, “Can dry humping Vanilla Ice cause burns?” Yes, I’m that excited about his upcoming show. Seeing the message my friend Jeff Bell was very worried about the health of my lady parts.

Jeff: V.ice? Were you dry humping Vanilla Ice? Cause that’s kinds icky.
me: yup!!

Jeff: Those kind of daredevil antics could make your vagina fall off!

It’s a darn shame he can’t see what I’m wearing today:

My love for Vanilla Ice has no limits. Word.

For a moment last week I forgot I was 31. You see, I purposely purchased tickets to attend the Matt Costa/Rilo Kiley/Modest Mouse, which was held at Utah Valley State College in Orem. Yes, Orem.

A 31 year old single female should be home knitting or collecting tacky porcelain figurines, not kicking it with kids. I know this, but I couldn’t pass up the chance to see three artists I love.

Waiting in line I couldn’t help but notice Maddie and me were the single oldest people there. Hold on, I retract that statement. Excluding the senior citizen ticket taker we were the elders in this group. As the night progressed we noticed a scattering of “adults” in the crowd. Each time this happened eye contact was made, the look passed between the stranger and I was one of comfort–knowing we weren’t the only gently worn souls in attendance.

Matt Costa was amazing, even better live. I am thrilled when that happens, it reminds me the artists really are talented and don’t just employ a talented recording studio.

Rilo Kiley was just what I expected: full of soulful lyrics. She has a stage presence that exceeded my expectations. How this dainty little thing could belt out such amazing lyrics is beyond me. She moved me…in spirit and body.

Luckily for me I am well-versed in all things Modest Mouse and knew chances of a live show being as good as the recorded music were low. I was correct. The lead singer, Isaac Brock, is a yeller. He’s known for his crazy onstage antics. This I was looking forward to, and he did not disappoint. At one point in the show he gave up on his microphone and sang into his guitar. The acoustics at this particular venue are less than ideal, but I shouldn’t expect much out of a college gym, right?

Did I learn my lesson? Not a chance. I’m headed back down to Utah County to see Rocky Votolato. I have no one to blame but myself.

To read this week’s column for In Utah This Week click here. It’s further proof there’s “NO GOOD MUSIC!” That one’s for you Jen.

I’ve had the worst weekend ever, but it was quickly forgotten when I saw someone found my blog by searching “NKOTB WIVES.”

I’ve been telling Milinda since 7th grade I was born to marry a New Kid. It’s so meant to be!

I picked up the twins from school today since their parents are out of town on business. I got them all buckled in and off we went for an adventure. It’s funny, kids will find the most boring errands exciting if you tell them it’s an adventure. It also works with Ben.

New Order’s “Blue Monday” was playing on my stereo and Hannah starting shrieking with excitement. “It’s dinosaur music aunt Sarah. I love it sooooo much!” I asked her if the song was on one of her movies, maybe one with a dinosaur. Nope. I know 80’s music seems sorta old, but really dinosaur music? I think my three-year-old niece called me ancient. Great.

Today marks the beginning of Willie Nelson week. A week devoted entirely to Willie & weed. Since I don’t actually smoke weed, I’ll just add extra basil to my food this week and consider it good enough. You may be asking why devote this particular week. Simple. Ben and I will be taking a trip to St. George on Tuesday to see the great WN in concert.

We have a small obsession with him. When we were kids my grandparents purchased the Willie Nelson ranch located near Spanish Fork, Utah. I requested my parents change the spelling of my last name from Nielson to Nelson. As usual they marked it up as my “crazy imagination” and the spelling stayed.

The obsession reached its height when I was 12. I hated all things country, with the exception of Willie, Johnny Cash and my beloved grandfather. I fondly remember riding the 4-wheelers around his ranch while trying to keep my hair from being blown out of my side ponytail. I just knew that Willie couldn’t just walk away from the ranch, and that he must secretly fly to Utah every few weeks just to check on things. My family always thought it was odd that I primped before going out on the ranch, but I was convinced Willie was watching me. I had to look good!

I found an old plaid snap shirt in the barn that I still own. I’m convinced it was Willie’s shirt, and hangs proudly at the back of my closet. I may even wear it to the concert, since I probably won’t have time to find pink cowgirl boots in time.