A Tribute To Nashville

Will the circle be unbroken, by and by Lord, by and by?
There’s a better home a-waitin’ in the sky, Lord, in the sky…

They don’t call Nashville “Music City USA” for nothing. Music is the lifeblood of this beautiful jewel of the Smoky Mountains, the one that sits astride the mighty Cumberland River. It’s never silent in Nashville, because even the wind through the trees is musical. The music never stops.

It’s not just country music either. Nashville is absolutely the undisputed country music capital of the world, but all are welcome. Nashville has a fantastic classical music scene, and they play both bluegrass and the blues down in The District.

The mighty Cumberland overran its banks last week, and so did Old Hickory Lake. The flood was the worst the area has seen since the Civil War. People died. Homes were destroyed. This was a true act of nature; there were no faulty levees or the Army Corps of Engineers to blame, simply a freak act of God, wrought upon a musical city in the mountains. It seems incomprehensible that the music could be silenced, but for a brief moment, it looked possible.

The waters are receding, and the people are picking themselves up by their quiet pride and their bootstraps, as Tennesseans tend to do. The heartache will not fade for a long time. The music is quieter than normal right now, but the city’s heart still beats, like a timpani struck ever so gently.

Symphony Hall itself was spared. But it took 18 feet of water into its basement, destroying rehearsal space, the console for its organ, and two hand-built, hand-selected Steinway grand concert pianos, along with countless other instruments. The amount of structural damage is unknown as yet.

The Country Music Hall of Fame took on water in its basement, losing hardwood floors and ceiling tiles, and its theatre flooded over the stage and up to the third row. The main rotunda and the artifacts were guarded during the flood by a dedicated team of curators, who managed to save just about everything.

The Grand Ole Opry House, home of the Grand Ole Opry, was flooded through the backstage and loading areas, and the auditorium filled with water. The entire performance/stage area, along with about 3/4 of the main floor was underwater. The Opry House sits at the edge of the Cumberland, next to the Opryland Hotel and Opry Mills Mall, both of which sustained severe damage and high water flooding. All three facilities are closed until further notice.

BB King’s is closed. Many businesses are unsure of their re-opening strategy. Fear of mold and loss of housing are real threats to the livelihood of Nashvillians, musical or not.

Those who did not experience loss have opened their doors and hearts to the displaced. The Station Inn survived unscathed, and its website exhorts folks to “pitch in and help if and when you can.” The Bluebird Cafe, a haven for up and coming songwriters, closed for two days but is now re-opened, and the music plays.

The orchestra is playing a concert tonight for free, outside Nashville’s City Hall. The music will play on.

The Hall of Fame is drying out, and plans to reopen soon. The music will play on.

The Ryman Auditorium, 119 years old, stands strong and dry on Fifth Avenue. The Opry will move back to the Mother Church of Country Music, its historic home, until further notice. The Opry will be broadcast as usual this weekend (tonight and Saturday) on WSM 650 AM. The music will play on.

And this Sunday, in churches across Davidson, and Williamson, and Sumner, and Robertson, and Cheatham and Rutherford Counties, choirs will sing and prayers will raise that the damage wasn’t worse, and that Nashville will survive. The music will be heard.

In the face of chaos, there are moments of optimism in Nashville. Of all places, when the country has bigger fish to fry and a failed terrorist bomb in Times Square is a far sexier story, Nashville is taking care of its own. Somehow, I would expect nothing less. Let the music play on, and be heard.

Guitar Heroes, Redux

Concerts I Must See Live Before I Die:

1. Clapton
2. Springsteen
3. Santana The Ex, April 21, 2008
4. John Mayer (at a small club)
5. John Mayer Trio The Joint at Hard Rock Hotel, Las Vegas, December 31, 2009
6. Derek Trucks Band The Ex, April 21, 2008
7. Buddy Guy Legends, January 12, 2008
8. Bon Jovi
9. BB King
10. U2

Update: there WILL be a Crossroads in Chicago this year...since I missed London last summer, there's probably no better chance to see Clapton and BB King, as well as JM and Buddy Guy again.

U2 is coming to the Twin Cities this summer, and Bon Jovi has a concert scheduled for next month at the Ex. However, U2 sold out in like 2 minutes and I haven't heard great things about the Jove this time out. We'll see. Seems like I could probably go to the Ex and get a ticket if I felt the need.

As for Mayer at a small club? Fingers crossed for next month in Chicago...that maybe he pops up someplace and plays a few chords.

In other news, David Ryan Harris had to cancel his show at Schuba's earlier this week, so that leaves my Friday night in Chicago open next month. I was recently informed that my high school classmate Matt is in a play with John Mahoney and they have a show that Friday night, so that's a possibility. Either way, a good time will be had, because it's Chicago, and that's just the way Chicago is.

Twelve Days of Christmas: Day Two

I have my Constitutional Law final tomorrow afternoon, and as soon as I post this to Holidailies, I'm headed to bed. My legs feel like tree trunks, my ankles and feet look like balloons, and my head is swimming after a 10 hour study marathon. If anyone wants to give me some pointers on the analysis of substantive due process and how to identify a dormant commerce clause issue, feel free. Tomorrow after the final, we're going to do some baby shopping and then hopefully get the house slightly cleaned up in anticipation of the holidays and the impending arrival. If luck stays with us, we may have a baby before Christmas.

Today's musical selection hits me in two places. It's probably not as well known as much of the rest of the Christmas music canon, but it's fantastic in its simplicity, and has stuck with me since the first time I heard it.

First, it is a beautiful madrigal. We sung it in high school, a cappella, in womens' voice. It was part of choir and also part of the school's annual madrigal festival/dinner, which was a large part of my high school experience. I remember thinking the sentiment was lovely: it seems that the Three Wise Men weren't the only ones to visit the newborn Jesus in the manger. I like to think that a woman called upon two of her friends to bring a torch and visit the baby, reminding each other to admire, but stay quiet, so as not to disturb the quiet of His new life.

In a way, it reminds me of the old Christmas adage: if there had been Three Wise Women instead of Three Wise Men, they would have asked for directions, arrived early, brought a casserole, helped deliver the baby and cleaned up afterward.

The song is slightly more elegant in sentiment.

The second place this song hits me, especially this year, is that my good friend Jen delivered her third baby on Thursday. Baby V. is a tiny little peanut of a thing, not even 6.5 pounds. She's the spitting image of her mother, and the perfect addition to Jen's family. They are home and resting, and seem to be in fine fettle. I can't help but think that my little one will be with us shortly, and I can only hope that I come through this birth with as much grace and dignity as Jen.

Bring A Torch, Jeanette, Isabella

Hush, hush! Beautiful is the mother...
Hush, hush! Beautiful is the child...

Twelve Days Of Christmas Music (Give or Take)

Okay, I need a distraction. What with all the talk of babies and finals and OB appointments, I have had very little time this year to enjoy the season. I love Christmas music, of all stripes and kinds. (Save perhaps Band Aid's "Do They Know It's Christmastime?". Seriously people. It ranks lower than the Chipmunks Christmas Album.)

We don't have the tree up, we don't have an Advent calendar for the Girl, we don't even have the house cleaned or presents wrapped. We baked a few cookies, but that's about it.

We do have music. For the next twelve or so days, I will highlight a favorite Christmas song, and where possible, post an audio or Youtube of it. Of course, I'll intersperse the usual blog blatherings (bloggerings?) of life as I know it, and of course, baby news will be included. I went to the Concordia College choir concert at Orchestra Hall last night, and let me tell you something: those Lutherans know their Christmas music. It was just enough to kick my Catholic ass into gear and embrace the season. Damnit.

First up: a modern classic. Born of a Canadian collaboration, formed from two ancient carols heard in churches the world around. Set to a funky jazz-swing beat reminiscent of Django Reinhardt's "Minor Swing." Easily one of my favorite Christmas tunes. I present the Barenaked Ladies and Sarah McLachlan, performing "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen/We Three Kings."

Enough To Be On Your Way

Oh, it's enough to be on your way
It's enough just to cover ground
It's enough to be movin' on
Home, better build it behind your eyes
Carry it in your heart
Safe among your own

-- Enough To Be On Your Way, James Taylor

I just wanted to remember this.

Listening to Pandora

My life, ca. 1992 (if only they'd ask my name):

There's a girl who sits under the bleachers, just another day eating alone
And though she smiles, there is something just hiding
And she can't find a way to relate
She just goes unnoticed as the crowd passes by
And she'll pretend to be busy, when inside she just wants to cry
She'll say...

Take a little look at the life of Miss Always Invisible
Look a little harder
I really really want you to put yourself in her shoes
Take another look at the face of Miss Always Invisible
Look a little closer, and maybe then you will see
Why she waits for the day when you'll ask her name

The beginning...in the first weeks of class
She did everything to try and fit in
But the others they couldn't seem to get past all the things that mismatched on the surface
And she would close her eyes when they laughed and she fell down the stairs
And the more that they joked, and the more that they screamed
She retreated to where she is now...and she'll sing...

And one day just the same as the last, just the days spent in counting the time
Came a boy that sat under the bleachers, just a little bit further behind...

-- Miss Invisible, Marie Digby

My life, ca. 2008 (if only I would believe):

"I don't know why you don't go back to college and get your degree," he said
"You could be anything you want to be if you'd only believe that you're worthy, beautiful, you don't need their approval, And I'll be the rock that you can lean on..."

"I've watched you work the room - people hanging on every word, you build it, then kill it, leaving a mystery everybody needs, You're broken, beautiful, you fascinate them all, And they'll be the wind that you will lean on..."

"And why are you everybody's girl? Why (do) you throw your arms around the world? When I am all you need to see you through, I don't believe it, no, I don't believe it, no, I don't know, know about you..."

"I don't know why you don't give up the wild life and come be with me, you know, 'Cause I feel you, and I'm real, you've gotta believe that I never would leave you, 'cause I'm strong, dependable, and I could give you the world, Why can't I be the one you lean on?"

"And why are you everybody's girl? Why (do) you throw your arms around the world? When I am all you need to see you through, I don't believe it, no I don't believe it, no, I don't know, know about you..."

Because I always fell short, because they always wanted more
Because he left and shut the door before you came along
I couldn't feel anybody's love, so everybody's love was not enough
But I know one day, it's going to fill me up
And that's why I am everybody's girl

That's why I throw my arms around the world 'Cause I cannot believe it could be true I don't believe it, no I don't believe it, no, I don't know, know about
Why I am everybody's girl That's why I throw my arms around the world
'Cause I cannot believe it could be true...

-- Everybody's Girl, Jen Foster

Summer of 1994, Redux

It's funny how sometimes you return to music you've known for ages, and is so ingrained in your psyche so as to be second nature. I haven't listened to Dulcinea in eons, and quite frankly, I don't know where my copy of that CD is at the moment. However, I was Youtubing this evening and it struck me that I haven't heard the album in forever.

It will forever remain one of those seminal albums of my adolescence -- it came out around 1993-94 or so, when all was well, I earned $4.75 an hour folding sweaters at the mall, and my left elbow was getting sunburnt for the second summer in a row as it hung out the driver's side window of my non-airconditioned compact coupe. Seventeen is such a magical age -- a crossroads, no doubt -- but there is just something about the world being your oyster, and taking ownership of the possibilities.

Perhaps that's the point of adulthood: we spend our lives trying to recapture those heady days of carefree worldliness, days when we owned up to our loss of innocence and rather enjoyed ourselves in the process. Dulcinea was part of my soundtrack for that time in my life, and I will forever be able to pick up that album and sing every single song, line by line, note by note, no matter how much time passes between listenings. I actually had a thought -- I've heard a bootleg of JM and Glenn Phillips doing a cover of Walk on the Ocean, and it struck me that maybe during that summer when I was just a kid folding sweaters somewhere in the Midwest, he was just a kid, with a sunburnt left elbow, doing whatever it was he did for $4.75 an hour somewhere in Connecticut. In any case, Toad the Wet Sprocket will always be ingrained in my musical psyche, and there will always be a spot in my collection for Dulcinea (even if it's currently in a black hole somewhere).

another day, I call and never speak
and you would say, "nothing's changed at all"
and I can't feel much hope for anything
if I won't be there to catch you if you fall
--Something's Always Wrong

Nothings so cold
As closing the heart when all we need is to free the soul
But we wouldnt be that brave I know
And the air outside so soft, confessing everything...everything

And it wont matter now whatever happens to me
Though the air speaks of all well never be it wont trouble me
-- All I Want

There's something that you wont show
Waiting where the light goes
Take the darkest hour-break it open
Water to repair what we have broken

There's something that you wont show
Waiting where the light goes
And anyway the wind blows
Its all worth waiting for
-- Windmills

She said I'm fine, I'm okay cover up your trembling hands
There's indecision when you know you ain't got nothing left
For the last time conscience calls, for a good friend I was never there at all
When will we fall...when will we fall down
--Fall Down

Someone Else's Tomorrow

Have you ever been baptized in the cool winter water
On a Sunday morning when the sky was gray?
You filed out of the churchyard, so cold it was silver
To gold, tan, and blue cars, and the cars drove away
All the memories fade, send the ghosts on their way
Tell them they've had their day, it's someone else's tomorrow

The tall and the tiny ships on the water
Farther and farther, floating away
Will never return now, all wooden and burned out
They echo and groan now in their salty graves
All the memories fade, send the the ghosts on their way
Tell them they've had their day, it's someone else's tomorrow
Someone else's tomorrow

Someone Else's Tomorrow - Patty Griffin

Haunting, ethereal song in my head. It speaks of death and renewal and moving on, allowing the past to slip away gracefully in honor of what the future may hold.

There are so many things in my past that I should let slip. And yet, there are so many things that I deal with on a daily basis that require dredging up the past in order to understand.

One of my solutions to the drama surrounding my family of origin is to simply concentrate on the here and now, and on the family the boy and I have created. I will always honor my parents for giving me life and education and as much as they did. But it's now my job to make sure they don't interfere with what we are trying so hard to build together. I am forever grateful to have had my mother by my side when I was pregnant with the girl. Now that I'm six hours away from her, and on my second pregnancy, and am older and (theoretically) wiser, I feel so much more capable regarding my decisions and my approach to pregnancy and the birth of the bean.

My dad wrote me an email today. More drama is afoot, and I wrote him back with what I considered to be a straightforward answer, a little common sense advice, and a whole lot of honesty. He replied that I was "a helluva lot stronger" than he ever knew. The trick of it is that I have had to learn how to be strong and how to fight for what is best for me, rather than trying to appease everyone, or be everything to everyone.

I have as big a selfish streak as anyone - but all of the labels I carry with me (up there in the corner - take a peek) - are just little parts of me. Without them I wouldn't be myself, but I don't have hats and aprons to take off and put on as the situation requires. I have one great big patchwork quilt, and it goes everywhere with me. I sleep with it wrapped round me at night. It lays on the ground in transition during a race, and it becomes my coat of many colors when life gets cold and lonely. Sometimes it needs to be repaired, sometimes it needs a spin through the wash.

I think my greatest hope right now is that my children grow up with love and without baggage. I want nothing more than to give them the strength to leave for college, the willingness to call home every now and again, and the idea that home is a place of unconditional acceptance and love.

Lift Me Up

Rain, rain on my face
Hasn't stopped raining for days
My world is a flood
Slowly I become one with the mud

But if I can't swim after forty days
and my mind is crushed by the crashing waves
Lift me up so high that I cannot fall
Lift me up
Lift me up - When I'm falling
Lift me up - I'm weak and I'm dying
Lift me up - I need you to hold me
Lift me up - And keep me from drowning again

Downpour on my soul
Splashing in the ocean, I'm losing control
Dark sky all around
Can't feel my feet touching the ground

Calm the storms that drench my eyes
Dry the streams still flowing
Cast down all the waves of sin
And guilt that overthrow me

But if I can't swim after forty days
and my mind is crushed by the crashing waves
Lift me up so high that I cannot fall
Lift me up
Lift me up - When I'm falling
Lift me up - I'm weak and I'm dying
Lift me up - I need you to hold me
Lift me up - and keep me from drowning again

"Flood" - Jars of Clay

I'm not normally one for Christian music, but this particular song is one of my favorites, not only for the message (which as a Christian, I wholeheartedly believe, and need to hear on occasion), but for the music itself.

Sometimes my life becomes a flood, and I feel like I'm drowning - like there's nothing there to save me and all I have to do is stop fighting and eventually the pain will leave. All I have to do is sink down, watch the bubbles rise and let myself get pulled under by the currents and undertows.

Thing of it is, I know how to swim, and it takes a hell of a lot of effort to fight that particular reflex. In life, as in the water, you have to draw on your reserves, and fall back on your training to enable survival. And when you do survive, and the rain stops, and the skies clear, sometimes nothing is more beautiful than watching the seas calm from the relative safety of the beach.

Is self preservation a method of salvation? If you save yourself, do you save others as well? What do we rely on as humans to make our lives worth living?

Sometimes my life preserver is my family, sometimes it's my faith, sometimes (rarely) it is myself. Many times it's a combination of all of the above. At times, the flood is too much, and at times, it's a matter of remembering your umbrella.

I'm waiting for my spring grades, and the sooner I get them, the better. It kills me to not know.

Silent All These Years

Years go by, will I still be waiting for somebody else to understand?
Years go by, if I'm stripped of my beauty, and the orange clouds raining in my head?
Years go by, will I choke on my tears 'til finally there is nothing left?
One more casualty, you know we're too easy easy easy...

Well I love the way we communicate, your eyes focus on my funny little shape
Let's hear what you think of me now, but baby don't look up - the sky is falling.
Your mother shows up in a nasty dress it's your turn now to stand where I stand
Everybody lookin' at you here take hold of my hand - yeah I can hear them.

But what if I'm a mermaid in these jeans of yours with her name still on it?
Hey but I don't care, 'cause sometimes, I said sometimes
I hear my voice, I hear my voice, I hear my voice

And it's been here, silent all these years
I've been here, silent all these years

This is one of the most hauntingly beautiful, tragic, profound songs I've ever heard. I suppose it's rather cliche to wax poetic about Tori Amos - she is a doyenne of the deep philosophical thoughts of most college coeds (usually those of us who were labeled as such from about 1992-1999 or so).

She wrote this song about remaining silent after her rape.

It hit me tonight that my mother's voice, in deference to my father's selfishness and personal desires, was silent for many years. She never seemed to stand up for what she wanted - she always seemed to mold her life around his desires, and around what she felt was best for my sister and I.

Now, with the divorce final, she doesn't have to be silent anymore. I hope she hears her voice anew, and for once, makes herself happy. I would love nothing more than to see her sever all ties, get rid of all of her baggage (literal and emotional), pack her little Westie into her car and drive to wherever her heart takes her.

I hope she hears her voice, though it has been silent for far too long.

Breaking Radio Silence

Wow, have I ever gone over a week without writing since I started this thing? Yikes. Busy week, apparently.

Since we last left our heroine, she has been busily accomplishing the following tasks:

Finishing her trial level memo, which involved Herculean efforts and many late nights, culminating with a Saturday night all-nighter, which turned into a Sunday morning bedtime of 5:45am and a grand total of 90 minutes of sleep.

Baking three kinds of quiche for her classmates for the trial memo breakfast buffet in order to stay awake (can't go to sleep if something's in the oven...)

Running out of eggs with which to make a banana bread; using the last frozen zucchini bread in its place (which defrosted and served beautifully after residing in the freezer since August).

Proceeding to thank heaven, stars, and Professor B for cutting Contracts class short in order to go home, nap for 2.5 hours, get up, and go with Ric to the Santana/Derek Trucks show.

Rocking out in the 12th row for said show, throughly enjoying both performers and falling in love with even MORE awesome music (as if that's possible). Two amazing guitar players (one new, one living legend) in one night. Smokin' hot blues/slide on one side, Latin fusion on the other. Just can't help but smile when the timbales and congas come out.

Making Ric buy girly beer.

Working like mad on memos for the last week.

Talking with Mom for a few hours and processing the fact that, yes, my parents are now officially divorced, and while better about it, it's not over for me. Knowing she's in a good place about it helps.

Gaining clarity and perspective on a lot of things, which I had hoped to do a long, long time ago. Understanding that it couldn't have come any sooner, and hoping that I've done what it takes to come out of this particular trial with a sense of maturity and a renewed purpose.

Re-ramping up my training, getting back in the pool and on the run...waiting for a good few days to get on the bike and enjoy some of the Minnesota hills we have 'round these parts. Timed a race pace 800 on Tuesday at 18:44 (2:20/100 pace. Not bad! Definitely getting better. Will continue to improve on that - would like to get down to a 2:00/100 pace for a 16 minute swim in the pool - hopefully that translates into an open water swim of about the same amount. Factors: no stop/turnaround every 25, no lane lines and more people/veering, not an exact distance, plus in/out time.)

Dealing with a reeeeeeeeeeally sore lower back, hoping it is from too much butt-in-seat studying and training, and not an injury.

Cooking dinner for my SIL and D., the classmate I set her up with a couple weeks ago. They claimed to have had a bad first date, which I found out last night was a double-sided PUNK on both their parts. And I was the victim. Apparently, they hit it off really well, had a great time, and are very happy to be seeing each other. Ungrateful little you-know-whats had the gall to come to my house and eat my food, and punk me.

At least D. fits in with Clan Thompson in that respect: we have a tendency to punk, practical joke, and surprise each other with regularity. Not only that, we're good at it.

I am happy they are hitting it off - she's a great girl, he's a really nice guy, and they both deserve some good times.

Song in my head: Africa Bamba, Santana

I heard this song for the first time at the Santana concert Sunday night, and remembered it because of the refrain "Ella, baila la portuguesa." My sis was a Brazilian exchange student and by proxy, I am sensitive to anything that says or purports to relate to Brazil or Portuguese. The song itself is so pretty and danceable - I looked up the lyrics, and was surprised to discover that my Spanish isn't so rusty that I couldn't translate them - and more importantly, translate the idioms (dar la luz literally means "to give light", but used in context means "childbirth.") Senoras C. y P. y Profesora R., gracias...something in my seven years of studying Spanish must have stuck.

The song just has a lovely meaning to it - I think I have found the first song on the Summer of Awesome soundtrack. Take a look (translation provided below):

Estoy llamando a todas las morenas
Y las llamada la viene da la luz
Con calma se baila esta danza
Y con amor canto yo esta cancion
Africa bamba ase a un lado a la tristeza
Y otra mas dulce no la podras encontrar
Oye eso te va sentir feliz

Ella baila la portugueza

Translation:

I am talking to/calling on all the beautiful brunette ladies
And also those women/mothers who give birth
With calm confidence, you should dance this dance.
And with love, I sing this song.
Africa bamba - cast aside your sadness
And you will not find a sweeter one (song/dance)
Listen to it, and you will feel happy.

Girl, dance the Portuguese dance...

Kids No More

Wow.

If they sound as good as they look... I will be buying my first New Kids CD. Ever.
(Oh yeah. Cassette tapes, baby.)

In other news, JM is partying it up under the sakura in Tokyo, and it's a time for new beginnings. The cherry blossoms represent self-reflection and renewal, and the Japanese take the time to walk in the park and watch the full blooms come in.

What a beautiful tradition...taking time to renew oneself and reflect upon the events since the last time the blossoms were in full bloom.

Something Private

Not really apropos to post something private on a public blog on the Internet, I suppose...but I have a private thought in my head, and a private feeling in my gut that I want to remember, so I'm leaving myself this reminder.

Time: 12:44PM
Date: Monday, March 31, 2008
Weather: Snowy and slippery. The roads are bad right now.
Clothing: white stretchy v-neck long sleeved t-shirt, jeans, barefoot
Hair: ponytail
Song in my head: "Still" - Matt Nathanson

Sometimes snowy days bring unexpected warmth and happiness. Sometimes you just have to take 20 minutes out of your day to experience it. It makes going back out into the cold that much better.

St. Patrick's Day, Or The Last Two Weeks of My Insanely Busy Life

Busy, busy times in the life of me. Not only do I have the whole "oh shit, I only have six weeks left of school before finals" thing going on, the boy had his 30th birthday, my sister came to visit, I saw Matt Nathanson in concert last night, I am in the process of cleaning house, Easter is a week from yesterday, I'm rushing through some projects before I become a self-imposed finals hermit, it's Spring Break, and it's snowing outside. Welcome to my world.

Any and all of the above should rightly be their own blog entries, and I may very well be inclined to do so (oh hell, who am I kidding? No way am I going to have the time to properly document everything, so lucky you! The abridged version!) It's still going to be a long entry because I have two weeks to cover.

So then, in chronological order:

Happy 30th Birthday, Boy!: we went out for dinner at the Olive Garden (and yes, we did make them sing us the Buona Festa song - but they did so over a plate of OG Andes Candies. Better than crack, those little green treats!) I also played fun with his birthday cake: I went to the store and got a dozen cupcakes and those hard candies they sell in the cake baking aisle - the letters that you can spell stuff out with. I arranged the cupcakes on a plate, and placed one letter on each one, then gave it to him, saying "Sorry."

I neglected to get a picture - perhaps I'll recreate it one of these days, but the cupcakes spelled out "THE CAKE IS A LIE." (The boy is a Portal fanatic and I got a huge laugh out of him with it. (We did, in fact have a chocolate cake with chocolate frosting for him, as per his request.) He told most of his WoW guild about it...and I think I've been voted Coolest Wife Ever... his one buddy said "Woooww...she really does pay attention, doesn't she?" So... Happy Birthday, Boy.

Sisters, Sisters...There Were Never Such Devoted Sisters: A couple weeks ago, I was having a rough time dealing with a lot of the stuff that was bubbling to my surface regarding my family situation. A lot of my issues stem from the fact that I'm having to redefine family in my head: who qualifies, my perception of my family of origin, how best to deal with that. My sister is probably the person who knows as much about our family as I do - and I was IM'ing with her about a lot of the things I've been dealing with. She sensed I needed (help? companionship? friendship? love?)... I needed a sister. She immediately popped online, found a cheap flight, and got herself up here post-haste. We spent 4 days talking about our family - and I learned so much about her formative years, specifically the time after I left for college. I'm six years older than she, and I went to college when she went to junior high. We had such vastly different teen years for a lot of reasons, and this visit really brought to bear our differences. The good news is that we have just as many commonalities, and at the end of the day, we're there for each other, no matter what.
We did lots of sister-type activities, including shopping at IKEA and the Nordstrom shoe department (two places which, for us, equal Valhalla). Overall, it was a fantastic visit, one which I desperately needed, and one for which I will be forever grateful. Love you, sis. :)

MATTY NAY!!!!!!!!

Dude. If this doesn't make my yearly recap...then I will have died and gone to heaven. I got pretty damned close last night.

God love my friend Jen. She's been a Matty fan for AGES and I was grousing to her the other day - I'd failed to procure a ticket for the MN/Lifehouse show at First Ave in Minneapolis before it sold out. I was tempted to go anyway and see if they would release tickets, but more likely I would have just let it go. I had a multitude of excuses, the least of which was that I generally don't like to go to events alone.

Jen was having none of this. She has done street team things for MN before, and knows his tour manager, Megan. After my diatribe, she promptly sent Megan a PM asking if there was any slots on the street team for the Minneapolis show. Ten minutes later I was "on the list."

Long story short, I spent 90 minutes waiting outside the club, got to the box office and was admitted, free of charge, to the show. And I will be forever grateful because not only was Matt a phenomenal performer (literally turned a laid-back Minneapolis crowd into a singalong choir, as well as complimenting us on our ability to withstand the Northern climate native to our area "Dude, I'm just sayin'...y'all are badasses if you call this spring!") He played a ton of his new CD, a couple of older tunes, and tossed in a little Journey and Rick Springfield for good measure. Amazing, amazing 45 minute set. He's got a stage presence which is great - he rocks his tunes, interacts with the audience, and dude, could I GUSH any more? I'm an instant addict.

After his set, I hightailed it over to the merch table...and life was great, because he was easily the nicest performer I've ever met. He only had 15 minutes at the table but I think he was averaging about 5 seconds per autograph, and he was cool with pictures and stuff. My camera malfunctioned the first time I tried to get a picture with him, and he was like "Just get it going, and I'll come back - I'm totally down with it!" And he DID!

I left before Lifehouse - I didn't really have any interest in seeing them (and I would have stayed if Megan actually did have street team stuff for me to do, but their postcards were delivered to Chicago, not Minneapolis, and they were out), but I was out of there by 9:45PM, home by 10:15, and in bed by 11. Now THAT'S what I call a concert experience! (I must be getting old...)



I'll save cleaning house and Easter and all that rot for my next entry. And it wouldn't be St. Patty's if I didn't say it...

No way November will see our goodbye, when it comes to December, it's obvious why
No one wants to be alone at Christmastime
And come January, we're frozen inside, making new resolutions a hundred times
February, won't you be my Valentine?

And if our always is all that we gave, and then someday we take that away
We'll be alright, if it was just 'til St. Patrick's Day...

As they say in Texas: Erin Go Bragh, Y'all!

My Father's Child

Things I have in common with my father:

1. The ability to be moved by music.
2. Inordinate desire to be educated.
3. Most at home in a classroom, whether as a student or teacher.
4. Inability to finish a story (or remember whether I've told it before) in less than 5 minutes or without a digression.
5. Bad vision.
6. Love for all things chocolate.
7. An appreciation for peanut butter and swiss cheese sandwiches.
8. Encyclopedic knowledge of near-useless trivia.
9. Vocabulary bordering the ridiculous.
10. Inability to correctly express my emotions, thoughts and feelings.

Music in my head right now: Mozart's "Requiem": Introit and Kyrie.

Exhilaration/Excruciation

What's the matter Mary Jane, you had a hard day
As you place the don't disturb sign on the door
You lost your place in line again, what a pity
You never seem to want to dance anymore

It's a long way down on this roller coaster
The last chance streetcar went off the track
And you're on it

I hear you're counting sheep again Mary Jane
What's the point of trying to dream anymore?
I hear you're losing weight again Mary Jane
Do you ever wonder who you're losing it for?

Well it's full speed baby, in the wrong direction
There's a few more bruises if that's the way you insist on heading

Please be honest Mary Jane - are you happy?
Please don't censor your tears

You're the sweet crusader and you're on your way
You're the last great innocent, and that's why I love you

So take this moment Mary Jane and be selfish
Worry not about the cars that go by
All that matters Mary Jane is your freedom
Keep warm my dear, keep dry

Mary Jane-Alanis Morrissette

I've been thinking a lot about hurt.

Hurt and pain come in many forms - we have physical pain, emotional pain, physiological pain in response to psychological pain.

Sharp pain, dull pain, intermittent pain, persistent pain.

There's a pain scale - you've seen it in your doctor's office - "Rate your pain on a scale of 1-10" with a crying sad face on one end and a happy, smiley face on the other.

Hurt causes pain.

It can be anything from a paper cut to the most excruciating torture imaginable.

We cauterize pain - we do what we can to avoid it, we take pills to quell it, we run from it. We even say "I don't want to hurt you" just as we get ready to issue words that, once said, will inflict it. We make up stories to save face, we are not honest in our dealings with others. We let people down easy, we take the high road, we avoid conflict. Anything at all not to feel pain. Or hurt.

As humans, though, we are meant to hurt. The sensations of pain are what remind us that we are alive, just as much as the sensations of happiness and love and positivity. We're taught from a young age that pain is bad and love is good, and the less pain in your life, the better.

Exhiliration/excruciation. The highest highs come with the lowest lows, and without one you cannot achieve the other.

It follows then, that if you're not used to dealing with pain, you don't know what to do with it when it comes. When it's inevitable, unavoidable, perhaps even necessary.

For so long I have buffered and cauterized my wounds, and as such they have never healed properly. I've done what I must to make the pain go away. The pain I now feel is the kind of hurt that doesn't go away with a pill or a bandage. It lay dormant, sleeping, until one day it attacked, and I shut into myself, pleading and begging it to just leave me the fuck alone, already, I have enough to deal with without you making things worse

This is quite possibly the scariest thing I've ever done...letting myself lay bare and feel...let myself bleed and suffer and face my scars head-on. Is it so wrong to want to hurt? I'm not talking about self infliction, or cutting, or anything damaging...but really, to face what the world gives you head on? Is that so bad? Finding out that you thought you were doing just that, when in reality you were just watching the movie...is overwhelming.

Sometimes the attempt at mitigating your pain causes even more pain.

Sometimes you hurt so much you can't feel anymore - you become numb to the sensations. That's when you have to pull back and regain perspective.

Sometimes the most toxic, addictive things in your life are the things that you can't easily rid from yourself. Sometimes they are the things that make you you - to unwind them and separate them would be to unravel yourself at the threads and seams...and the thought of being left with a pile of string and no idea how to weave it back together into something usable is scarier than taking out the bad stuff. And moreso - even if you knew how to rework your pieces...how would you know that the end result was somehow better than what you had before?

Breaking down to build back up is tricky business.

Goodnight, You Moonlight Ladies

This morning, the girl suggested to the boy and myself that she would enjoy having a baby brother. We asked her if she knew what exactly was entailed in having a new baby in the house, and she said "yeah, well, you have to feed it."

And...

"And you give it time to sleep."

And...

The boy reminded her about the diaper changing and the late nights and sharing everything, and she still seemed pretty insistent at the thought. I played along a bit, goading the boy. "Well, you know...I'll be 31, and I'm not working so we wouldn't have child care issues...and we're living pretty cheap right now...we could time it around finals..."

His answer: "Are you seriously considering the family planning suggestions of a five year old?"

Me: "No, not really. We'll maintain the policy position: whatever happens happens."

And in a way, I get it - we're a lovely little threesome, complete as can be and thoroughly content. Sometimes though, I wonder if we'll have more kids. I am absolutely satisfied with just the girl, but part of me wonders what another child of ours might look like, might act like. How would I be different as a parent at age 31-32 than I was at 25?

Would I be heartbroken if we never had any more kids? How could I be? We're incredibly blessed. Then I hear an old James Taylor song, and my mind wanders to a place where I sit in my glider, breastfeeding a tiny cream-and-blue bundle, the girl watching me intently...and I quietly sing to both of them.

There is a young cowboy he lives on the range, his horse and his cattle are his only companions
He works in the saddle and he sleeps in the canyons, waiting for summer, his pastures to change

And as the moon rises he sits by his fire, thinking about women and glasses of beer
And closing his eyes as the doggies retire, he sings out a song which is soft but its clear
As if maybe someone could hear

Goodnight you moonlight ladies, rockabye sweet baby James
Deep greens and blues are the colors I choose, won't you let me go down in my dreams
And rockabye sweet baby James

Now the first of December was covered with snow
And so was the turnpike from Stockbridge to Boston
Lord, the Berkshires seemed dream-like on account of that frosting
With ten miles behind me and ten thousand more to go

Theres a song that they sing when they take to the highway
A song that they sing when they take to the sea
A song that they sing of their home in the sky
Maybe you can believe it if it helps you to sleep
But singing works just fine for me

So goodnight you moonlight ladies, and rockabye sweet baby James
Deep greens and blues are the colors I choose, won't you let me go down in my dreams
And rockabye sweet baby James

Come On, Get Higher

I have yet to purchase Some Mad Hope, the newest release from Matt Nathanson. However, I shall rectify that shortly. And a full review will no doubt follow.

I was introduced to Matt's music by a good online friend and fellow JM fangirl. (Thanks, Jen!). The thing I love about Matt is that his words are lyrical, poetic and honest. He has beautiful imagery, but in listening to the words, I don't feel mired in highfalutin metaphor.

Easily the best cut I've heard from the album (and I can't evaluate it in total because I haven't heard it all the way through, as a complete piece of work) is Come On, Get Higher. Matt has stated that Some Mad Hope follows the arc of a relationship, and this song is the epitome of what makes love complicated. He sings of missing the feel of a lover in bed, missing the words they say (sweet, perfect, violent), needing them back at whatever cost, knowing it's an unlikely situation, hoping for a miracle. Some mad hope indeed, is what keeps us coming back for more from our lovers and partners.

I miss the sound of your voice, I miss the rush of your skin
I miss the still of the silence, as you breathe out and I breathe in

If I could walk on water, if i could tell you what's next
Make you believe, make you forget

Come on get higher, loosen my lips
Faith and desire and the swing of your hips
Just pull me down hard and drown me in love

I miss the sound of your voice, the loudest thing in my head
And I ache to remember all the violent, sweet, perfect words that you said

If I could walk on water, if I could tell you what's next
Make you believe, make you forget

Come on get higher,loosen my lips
Faith and desire and the swing of your hips
Just pull me down hard and drown me in love

I feel the pull of your heart
I taste the sparks on your tongue
I see angels and devils and God when you come on hold on...

Sing sha la la la...

Come on get higher, loosen my lips
Faith and desire and the swing of your hips
Just pull me down hard and drown me
Drown me in love

It's all wrong, its so right

Come on get higher, come on and get higher
Because everything works love
Because everything works in your arms

"Come On, Get Higher" has been on repeat ad nauseum in my earbuds for the last few days, and it is not only a beautiful piece of music, it is a fantastic expression of love and hope and sex and dreams.

Speaking of which, the BoDeans have a new album out, and that will require investigating...

Feminism, Or How I Stopped Worrying and Learned to Love Club Music

Feminist political activists have been concerned with issues such as a woman's right of contract and property, a woman's right to bodily integrity and autonomy (especially on matters such as reproductive rights, including the right to abortion, access to contraception and quality prenatal care); for protection from domestic violence; against sexual harassment and rape; for workplace rights, including maternity leave and equal pay; and against other forms of discrimination.

-Wikipedia

I was looking over there at my list. You know the one - up in the top corner. Starts off "woman, wife, mother..." These are the labels I apply to my life. A few of them I was born with or was given without option. Others I chose to apply to myself. Some of them are as much a part of me as my name; others are more fluid, likely to change.

One label that I've put upon myself is that of "feminist." It's up there - right between "liberal" and "Democrat."

The word "feminist" conjures different images for different people. My mother might tell me a feminist was a woman who read W Magazine, worshipped Gloria Steinem and burned her bra. I think "feminist," for me, simply means supporting women's rights, responsibilities and endeavours. I think it's entirely too politicized; just because I call myself a feminist doesn't mean I burn Phyllis Schlafly in effigy (though it's tempting...) and please, don't get me started on Ann Coulter. (Revoke women's right to vote? Are you nuts??)

However, the reason I'm writing about this particular label, or issue, is because I fell in love with a song. It was innocent enough; I was flipping channels and I heard a snippet on VH1 of a video by Flo Rida and T-Pain. The song is called "Low."

Confession time: I'm a dancer. Not really...I love to go to a club and dance my ass off. Give me a few appletinis and some diggety grooves, and you have Fun Kate. Toss a pair of boot cut jeans on my hips, a cute top that accentuates the twins, and a pair of fun shoes (high heel boots in the winter, party heels or sparkly flip flops in the summer) and you have Club Girl Kate. CGKate only comes out to play every now and again; Real World Kate has a kid and a husband, and so she only lets CGKate loose on rare occasions. About once a year, usually.

Now - it's been a long long LONG time since I last went out on the town (it was actually last summer for Jordana's bachelorette party - and maaaaaaan was that a fun night...) So...this particular song, paired with the pix from the Mayercraft Carrier of JM buying Patron shots for a couple dozen lucky fans at the ship disco... makes me wanna go out!

So what do these things have to do with each other?

Rap and hip-hop music have often spoken of women in negative images; they are very often unnecessarily vulgar and misogynistic. I am a sucker for a catchy beat though, and can put up with a certain limit without feeling like I'm betraying my grrrls. I think rappers are generally concerned with putting out product people will buy. From what I've been told, the hip-hop crowd is fickle, and today's #1 is tomorrow's has-been. You make your money and move on.

So. "Low." The beat hooked me - the song's got a serious club groove. The other thing I love about it is there's no swear words. Plenty of urban-speak, but that's expected. However, I looked up the lyrics, then went to the Urban Dictionary and started looking up some of the terms...and decided some analysis was in order.

In the song, Flo and T talk about a "shawty," or woman, who is wearing Apple Bottom jeans and fur-trimmed boots, doing a booty-slapping dance and getting "low." In rap-speak, "gettin' low" means one of two things: getting low to the ground, as in a serious bump-n-grind, or having sex with multiple partners. From the rest of the lyrics, it sounds like she's holding herself out as a stripper/prostitute, and Flo pays for her services, and is satisfied.

So...is it anti-feminist of me to get my groove on to a song that celebrates prostitution? I don't know - I don't think so. Ultimately, if a woman isn't a sex slave, or actively chooses to engage in the behavior described in the song, the song isn't necessarily misogynistic. I've certainly gotten down on the dance floor, and while I have no personal experience or interest in prostitution, I know that when I'm dancing in a club, under the dark lights and a bass beat ripping through my chest, slightly hazy on alcohol and a hundred sweaty bodies moving every which way around me, I feel sexy. And there's nothing more feminist than a sexy and empowered woman.

Despite some of the lyrics, I'm going to chalk it up to a good club/workout song, and visualize myself on the Mayercraft next year in a pair of size 14 Apple Bottoms, shooting Patron and dancing my ass off til sunrise.

Check it out, and choose for yourself.

Shawty had them Apple Bottom Jeans, Boots with the fur
The whole club was lookin at her
She hit the flo, Next thing you know
Shawty got low low low low low low low low
Them baggy sweat pants and the Reeboks with the straps
She turned around and gave that big booty a smack
She hit the flo, Next thing you know
Shawty got low low low low low low low low

I ain't never seen nuthin' that'll make me go this crazy all night spendin my dough
Had a million dollar vibe and a bottle to go
Dem birthday cakes, they stole the show
So sexual, she was flexible, professional, drinkin X and O
Hold up wait a minute, do i see what I think I whoa
Did I think I seen shorty get low
Ain't the same when it's up that close
Make it rain, I'm makin it snow
Work the pole, I got the bank roll
Imma say that I prefer them no clothes
I'm into that, I love women exposed
She threw it back at me, I gave her more
Cash ain't a problem, I know where it goes

Hey, Shawty what I gotta do to get you home
My jeans full of gwap and they ready for Shones
Cadillacs Maybachs for the sexy groan
Patron on the rocks that'll make you moan
One stack (come on), two stacks (come on)
Three stacks (come on, now that's three grand)
What you think I'm playin baby girl
I'm the man, I'll bend the rubber bands
That's what I told her, her legs on my shoulder
I knew it was ova, that Henny and Cola got me like a soldier
She ready for Rover, I couldn't control her
So lucky me, I was just like a clover, Shorty was hot like a toaster
Sorry but I had to fold her, like a pornography poster she showed her

Whoa shawty, yea she was worth the money
Lil mama took my cash, and I ain't want it back
The way she bit that rag, got her them paper stacks
Tattoo of bubba cray, I had to handle that
I was on it, sexy woman, let me showin
They be want it two in the mornin
I'm zonin in them rose' bottles foamin
She wouldn't stop, made it drop Shawty did that pop and lock,
Had to break her off that gwap, it was fly just like my glock

Apple Bottom Jeans, boots with the fur
The whole club was lookin at her
She hit the flo, next thing you know
Shawty got low low low low low low low low
Them baggy sweat pants and the Reeboks with the straps
She turned around and gave that big booty a smack
She hit the flo, next thing you know
Shawty got low low low low low low low low

C'mon

Guitar Heroes

Concerts I Must See Live Before I Die:

1. Clapton
2. Springsteen
3. Santana The Ex, April 21, 2008
4. John Mayer (at a small club)
5. John Mayer Trio
6. Derek Trucks Band The Ex, April 21, 2008
7. Buddy Guy Legends, January 12, 2008
8. Bon Jovi
9. BB King
10. U2

I should probably just break down and go to the next Crossroads festival - wherever it might be, because it would knock off about 3/4 of this list, plus a whole bunch more. However, I'm liking the pick-and-choose of the individual gigs. I saw JM last summer at an amphitheatre (with a-may-zing seats) but I have yet to see the Trio, and I would love to see JM someplace like First Ave in Minneapolis, or even better, Eddie's Attic in the ATL. I doubt there will ever be shows at Eddie's like he did in December 2005, but I would seriously buy a plane ticket for a show like that.

Which leads me to my birthday wish for this year...



Saturday, June 28, 2008. Hyde Park, London.

Clapton headlines, Crow and Mayer support, plus I'm sure a ton of other support acts during the day.

Would I fly to London to check Clapton off my list? Maybe.

Would I fly to London to check Clapton off my list if JM is also playing? Youbetchersweetbippy I would!!!

Especially since something like this would not likely pass without some sort of encore or collab or on-stage appearance involving JM and EC together...and since Steve Jordan often plays with Clapton...let's just say that little gig is RIFE with possibility.

The downside to this is that JM will be in London during prime touring season this summer - not to say that there won't be a full-scale tour again, but perhaps it's going to start later than most of us anticipated. Hoping this means there's a record coming this fall...and a fall/winter tour to support it.

And that will be worth the wait.

Last note: #3 and #6 on the list - check as of this morning. 12th row at the Ex in St. Paul. DTB is opening for Senor Carlos.
Oye como va!