All posts for the month September, 2015

As More and More Time Ticks By

Published September 29, 2015 by authorbebedora

I’ve always been very optimistic.  I love to be hopeful.  Nothing’s better than anticipating something wonderful.

If you would have asked me three months ago whether I thought A-ha would come to the US, I would have said “absolutely.”  I knew our hard work wouldn’t go unnoticed.  I mean, we broke our asses getting the word out about our petition and just what it meant to have US gigs for thousands of fans.

Now, just a few days into what will be a seven month tour, I’m losing my hope.

Granted, I know seven months is still a long time, but as the days go by, I become more and more disillusioned.  Most of the months are completely filled, and the guys like to leave the “holiday months” for family, which I totally understand.  But, I’m guessing that means early November and most of December is out.  (And honestly, that’s not enough time to let people here plan and buy tickets anyway.)

So, that leaves us with January and February.  Again. not a whole lot of time to plan and purchase.  Now, I haven’t bought concert tickets in forever, but I would think that they like to get them out there more than four months before a show.  (My last concert was Tool in 2007.)

All the other months are filled with European dates before the tour ends in Oslo on May 1st.

I’m going to go out on a limb and speak for my fellow US fans:  (pardon me if these are not your views)

We aren’t any more deserving of shows than any other country.  We buy merchandise and albums (always imported) just like any other people around the globe.  We don’t love them any less than fans in England, Norway, Brazil or any other place.  We eagerly anticipate every bit of news, love every single photo and video that is released.  We cry along with songs we love, laugh along with silly interviews until our sides hurt.

We’re not the country who thinks of them as a “one-hit wonder”, although it sure seems like we’re perceived that way–more often than not by idiotic people in our own land who don’t do research before they write stupid news articles or open their big mouths on national television and/or radio.

I don’t know what else to do or say.  My two cohorts and I have worked our tails off–more than everyone probably can even fathom.  (Except for our husbands and families.  They know…believe me, they know.)  I often wonder if the fanbase here in the US knows just how much we’ve sacrificed for everyone.  How much we’ve endured to get our voices heard–all our voices coming out of the mouths of three women.  It’s hard to scream so loud sometimes and make sure  you’re heard.

It’s really hard to see everyone else get their concerts.  It’s painful to know that I can’t afford to go to Norway to see them in May.  I understand why I can’t go, and I accept it–even if I’m super sad about it.  I have a small child to take care of, a house, two cars and new siding to pay for.  That doesn’t mean that I don’t wish against everything that I could magically attend the concerts. Not everyone can just up and travel at the drop of a hat.

This is a cry to the management.

Don’t forget about us.  Don’t ignore us.  We love A-ha just as much as anyone else.  We spend our hard-earned money supporting them, spend our waking hours thinking about them.

I don’t know what else to do but to beg, I guess.

Please come here.  Give us our chance to see them again–or for the first time.  I have never had the honor of seeing A-ha in concert.  Don’t deny me and everyone else here a chance that the other people in the world are lucky enough to get.  In a perfect world, I could spend to my heart’s content and go to twenty shows and not bat an eyelash.  In a perfect world, I wouldn’t have to beg on behalf of my countrymen.

In a perfect world, I would wake up tomorrow and have a concert announcement.

Don’t forget about the USA.

Our love isn’t any different than that of any other country around the world.


Set in Stone and Cast in Steel (Take on This!)

Published September 15, 2015 by authorbebedora

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Take on This!

—-Set In Stone and Cast In Steel—-

I was going to write about the Cast in Steel album this week.

It’s an incredible piece of history, a fantastic album and let’s face it—Morten’s voice has never sounded so perfect.

But then it hit me. There’s something much more important to me that those three little words—cast in steel—can represent.

Six months ago, I didn’t know Debbie and Clara.

Six months ago, I was just a fangirl who couldn’t believe that A-ha was going to play Rock in Rio, and hoped against hope that there was more to come.

Six months ago—I didn’t have two of my best friends in my life.

I never realized how the love of a Norwegian musical group could forge such a beautiful and meaningful friendship. We all know A-ha is timeless and has brought countless fans from all over the world together, but I often wonder if they understand just how incredible those bonds become.

After only knowing these gals for a few weeks, they took a leap of faith. Sometimes a “gut feeling” is all you need. You can’t explain it, and you most certainly can’t deny it. When the Universe tells you that something needs to happen—you listen.

They asked me to join their campaign.

I was honored.

I knew how much work they had put in already, and that the petition was bigger than just trying to get names. This was important, and they had decided to ask me into the fold.

I could have never known that making a silly post on Facebook, more than likely about Morten’s fashion choices (I can’t remember what it was now), would turn into a friendship that feels like it was begun ages ago.

There are days where my kid is being sassy, nothing seems to be going quite right and I’ve run out of Hostess cupcakes. Days where I’ve cried more times than I’d like to admit. And on those days, these two ladies always manage to raise my sprits or just whine along with me—whatever is needed. Silly messages, photos of our favorite Norwegian, or re-visiting one of our many inside jokes— and it always manages to put a smile back on my face.

And on the days where one of them needs the same bit of encouragement or love, I’m there armed with a few photos that are always bound to get a laugh or a listening ear.

There isn’t anything I can’t tell them.

We may never have met face-to-face, but our bond is one that stretches across the country and and is not just based on a mutual love for one of the greatest musical groups of all time.

We’re all moms. We’re all wives. We swap recipes, bitch about our kids and talk about how much fangirling our poor husbands put up with. We both laugh and cry with each other, sometimes at the same time. There has never been an angry word spoken from any of our mouths directed at one another, and I know there never will be.

We may not share the same views when it comes to certain topics or beliefs, but not once has that stood in the way of a wonderful friendship. That’s how you can tell when you’ve got a true friend. Whatever your opinion is on religion, politics or whatever—it doesn’t matter. A great friend sees you for who you are, and loves you just the same.

And let me tell you, these ladies are the bee’s knees.

I wear a steel heart around my neck, with three tiny stones nestled inside. A token of friendship and love. A daily reminder of two wonderful women that found their way into my life—and will never leave it. I will cherish it always.

Set in stone and cast in steel.

I know there will be a day—hopefully very soon—where I can run at them full-tilt and hug them both until they can’t breathe. We will laugh, we’ll cry and (we’ve already decided) that we’ll probably get ourselves kicked out of a restaurant for being rowdy. I’ll thank them for taking that initial jump when they decided to make me part of the team. I’ll thank them for all the advice they’ve given me on raising kids, dealing with life and for helping me to feel better when I’m down in the dumps. But most of all, I’ll thank them for just being my friends.

I know this got sentimental and a little sappy this week, but I meant every word of it. I couldn’t imagine my life without Debbie and Clara, plain and simple. We’ve worked so hard on this passion of ours, and in doing so have forged a friendship that will stand the test of time. We are so much more than an awesome public relations and social media promotion team—we’re three women who share a loving friendship that will only grow stronger with each passing day.

I love you both with all of my heart.


When A-ha Takes Over (Take on This!)

Published September 15, 2015 by authorbebedora

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                                                                                Take on This!

—-When A-ha Takes Over—-
Admit it, every time someone says the words “blue sky”, your first inclination is to echo back, “blue skyyyyyyyy!”


Maybe it’s just me.

Not a day goes by where something someone says or does makes me want to break into random A-ha songs. Thankfully, it’s usually in the confines of my own home or car, so I don’t look like a total crazy person when I begin to sing.

My son loves to tell me that I’m touchy. Or that a video game controller is being touchy. Or that the television remote is being—well, you get it. He knows what’s coming. Even though he pretends to be surprised every time I respond to him and rolls his eyes (a trait learned from Daddy), I know that he thinks it’s pretty funny.

Because after he says it, he knows Mom is going to sing. Loudly. And probably get in his face. And more than likely dance and point at him. After all, he can be touchy, too.

A few weeks back, an anchorwoman on CNN was asked one of her guests on her panel, “How can it be?”

You know what happened.

My son groaned and went to play in the basement, leaving me singing “The Sun Always Shines On TV” to myself in the living room. And yes, I finished the whole song.

Someone mentions that something is going to happen in the early morning? I usually can’t resist the urge to ask them if it’s occurring at eight o’clock.

When my son went back to school last week, I sang him “Summer Moved On” in the car. He was neither impressed nor amused.

I’ve asked my husband to be my lifeline on more than one occasion and giggle uncontrollably when someone says it takes them a while to get into the swing of things.

Forget about anyone mentioning Memphis, either.

My life, and that of the people I love, is never dull—that’s for sure.

Thanks a lot, A-ha, for making sure I can’t go one day without quoting your lyrics or singing at inappropriate times.

Screw you, Old-time Lemon Pie!

Published September 6, 2015 by authorbebedora

I consider myself a great baker.

I can make most everything from scratch, and a good percentage by memory.  My brownies are to die for, my cakes are divine, and I dare anyone to make a better chocolate-caramel cookie than me.  My baklava is legendary.  (Thank you, Greek genes.)

I have only had one “biff” in my baking lifetime.  It happened a couple years back, with something I had made time and time again.  I have no idea what happened, but in the end it was dubbed, “The Abomination” and “The Asshole Black Forest Cake.”  It is pictured below, much to my chagrin.  But, I’m an honest gal and will show off the pile of shit that it turned out to be.  To this day, I can’t tell you what the fuck happened, but at least it still tasted good.  Sorry your birthday cake looked like ass, Yia Yia.

After that debacle, my record was spotless again…until tonight.

Now, I’ll admit this was something I had never made before: my Yia Yia’s “Old-time Lemon Pie.”  I hand-copied her recipe while sitting at her kitchen table.  The same table that I had pretty much learned to bake on.  (And may or may not have drawn all over as a kid…  What can I say?  It was a good thing Papou liked to stain and varnish things.)

My kid was in the basement playing Wii, my husband driving tanks on our big screen.  With both boys occupied, I cranked up the A-ha and got to work.  Everything was measured out beforehand and the most beautiful Norwegian voice was floating through my headphones.

Somewhere between Holyground and Riding the Crest…something happened.

Lemon curd ceased to be lemon curd.  In fact, it never even got to “curd” status.  I think in order to be considered “curd”, a substance needs to be thick.  This was–not.

I decided to use a few tricks Yia Yia had taught me over the years.  I added a little more cornstarch.  Upped the heat.  Lowered the heat.  Added a tad more cornstarch.  Swore profusely at it.  Called Yia Yia, still swearing.  Threatened it.

And all the time, the fucking “curd that was not curd” was laughing at me.

In the end, after reciting her own recipe back to her, we decided that neither of us knew what had happened.  Maybe it was goblins, maybe it was the humidity, maybe my cornstarch was possessed.  Whatever it was, there was no way it was going to thicken.  (and I even left it in the fridge for three hours hoping it would tighten up.  No dice.)

So I made a cherry pie instead.

Because screw you, Old-time Lemon Pie.