Guitar Town

Scott's shows at Swallow at the Hollow went well. He was great. Mike, who sat in with him on the second set, was great. The room was great. The crowd...eh. It was a restaurant crowd with two parties of 30 people. A little noisy for an acoustic singer-songwriter.

Still, I think we got a few new fans on board with us and we learned a thing or two. At least I did.

I'm looking forward to booking a few more shows and trying to streamline our game a little. Overall, though, I'm pleased with how the performances have gone and where Scott is in the process. After just a few shows, he fell back into performing like a duck into water and seems as comfortable as one can be onstage.

Hopefully, Scott will put up the recording of the show on his site in a few days. If so, I'll link it if anyone wants to hear.

Heart of Mine

Sometimes Brendan just blows me away with his goodness and his creativity.

Even before the books said he was developmentally ready to show empathy, he expressed a gentle and caring spirit, ministering to the needs of our pets, asking me what was wrong if I seemed down, rubbing his dad's feet when his dad said he had a rough day, hugging friends who were upset. He has such a special ability to think about others and I love him all the more for it.

Today, he did the sweetest thing. Something so cute it hurt.

He built a slide – out of rocks – for the ants. How cute is that? Then, he went and got a leaf and put it at the bottom of his slide so the ants would have a soft place to land. He said he thought the ants needed something to play on so he made them a playground.

I love that imagination!

My kid rocks.

Apron Strings

If you saw and loved the movie She's Having a Baby way back in the early '90s or late '80s when it was released, then you probably love the soundtrack as well.

After searching in vain for the out of print collection for a couple of years, I finally got a copy last night. Jeremy and his wife Teresa came to Scott's show with their little cutie Nathan last night and J. brought me a copy of the soundtrack plus a few covers/remixes of songs on the album. Very cool.

As always, one song stood out among the others and tugged at my heartstrings, bringing tears to my eyes. It's always the same one, although I realize that over the years the reasons the song touches me so deeply have changed.

Here are the lyrics:


Apron strings
Hanging empty
Crazy things
My body tells me
I want someone to tie to my lonely
Apron strings

Apron strings
Waiting for you
Pretty things
That i could call you
I want someone to tie to my lonely
Apron strings

He'd look just like me when I was young
And I wonder as the days unwind
Will he have your eyes or mine
Then i wake up to my
Apron strings
Cold and lonely
For time brings
Thoughts that only
Will be quiet when someone clings to my
Apron strings

And i'll be perfect in my own way
When you cry i'll be there
I'll sing to you and comb your hair
All your troubles i will share

For apron strings
Can be used for other things
Than what they're meant for
And you'd be happy wrapped in my
Apron strings

I don't want to talk about the reasons that song moved me when I was younger; they've passed away, changed, been forgotten about. Now, last night, as I played the song over and over again about four times on the drive home, always crying at the lines "and I'll be perfect in my own way/When you cry I'll be there/I'll sing to you and comb your hair/All your troubles I will share," all I can think about his how happy I am now to have someone, two someones, clinging to my apron strings, but how much happier I am to see my friends – many of them – who have struggled to get pregnant, stay pregnant, adopt, and become the parents they knew they were meant to be, finally hold their own children and have them cling not only to their apron strings, but to heartstrings as well.

C'Mon, C'Mon

For anyone interested, Suz has information on her site with regard to the devastating fire in Charleston last night that killed nine firefighters. A fund has been established to help their families and Suz has the information on where to send donations here.

Tragedies like this always seem so difficult to imagine. You're just going to work, doing your job, and you're killed in the most horrific and terrifying way possible.

Pressed in a Book

Someone recommended a book to me yesterday. It's called The Dance. The best I can tell it's written a woman who, shall we say, is a bit..open-minded?

It's written by this woman named Oriah. For a while, she had adopted the surname Mountain Dreamer which she had been given during a shamanic retreat. She used it until she grew tired of explaining that she was not Native American nor was it a stage name. Anyway, she sounds like a bit of a kook, but being somewhat open-minded, i.e., kooky, myself, I thought I'd read a bit of it and see what I thought. In the meantime, I found this bit of wisdom on her web site and I actually agree with it. I thought I'd share it. It's not any great insight if you've given any thought to the issue, but I do believe most of us tend to avoid those of us who are different. Hell, I even state my avoidance of "the different" as I discuss the very topic here. I was afraid to read this book because I thought it was too new-agey for me; I'd be embarrassed to admit that I'd read a book by one-named woman who considers herself an outside influence.

Of course, when I admit to you what convinced me to read the book, you'll think I'm a nut. The excerpt from one of her books that is on her web site talks about her four-year old son Brendan who was a bit of an unusual child, apparently. He got in trouble in kindergarten for not coloring his pictures the colors his teacher thought they should be or something like that. This spoke to me, obviously, because I have a four-year old son named Brendan who is a bit of a character himself. However, it also got me because my mother got called to the school and I got called out in class in front of all the other kids because I colored my barn purple when we were coloring a barnyard scene in class. I was the only kid who used a color other than red for the barn and my teacher yelled at me for it. Told me it was wrong. So, I really related to the story about her son.

Anyway, here's the other bit that spoke to me....

One of the easiest and most enjoyable ways to become aware of your conditioned way of seeing, to open to new perceptions, is to spend time with people who see things differently than you do. Most of us spend time with people who share our worldview, people who think and see in similar ways. It gives us comfort to have the authority of our experience reinforced by another's experience. Being with those who have had different experiences and so see differently not only opens us to new perceptions but helps us become aware of our habitual blinders.

I think almost every one of us can benefit from that little bit of knowledge.

When You Awake

I am so excited about Scott's shows on Wednesday and Thursday. I am eagerly looking forward to hearing him play and hearing Mike play with him.

Mike is an unusually gifted human being himself. A Rhodes scholar with degrees in English from Duke and Oxford as well as degrees in Hebrew and Jewish Studies from Oxford. He's also married to the beautiful and sweet Rebecca, herself a Rhodes scholar. In addition to being too smart, Mike plays a mean guitar and draws/writes the brilliant Satisfactory Comics with his partner Isaac.

Of course, on top of all that, he's a sweet, kind, decent, fun human being. As is Becca. Again, I'm feeling very blessed to have such wonderful friends.

Clearly there is a reason this theme is revealing itself to me....God to Dawn...Listen you crazy bee-atch! You are one lucky girl to have such amazing people in your life. Be thankful. Be happy. Celebrate and enjoy the amazing life you have been fortunate enough to have created for yourself and to have been welcomed into through your union with Scott.

So, I will. Thanks, G. For all the good stuff. And all the bad stuff that makes me appreciate even more all that I do have.

Revelling

It felt as if last week flew by, but looking back on it – and realizing I haven't posted in over a week – I realize just how long it was.

Brendan attended Vacation Bible School at our church from Monday through Friday. On Monday, he was really upset and didn't want to go, but the next morning was out of bed and at my side before I awoke, telling me he wanted to go to church school.

I thought I'd get a lot done, having 3 hours every morning to do things, but the time burned by in a flash. The wedding I was helping plan and direct was on Saturday, so I had several things to take care of with regard to that. Our friends Mike and Becca came to town from DC where Mike teaches at American University. They came on Wednesday night, stayed Thursday, then Friday drove to Athens to see Mike's brother.

On Friday, Scott's mom came to town to help with the kids while I was working. Also, because we know the groom's familly, Scott was invited to the wedding Saturday night, so of course, we needed help with the kids then.

Scott's mom left yesterday and Mike returned to the spend a few more days with us, while Becca took a train home to be at work this morning.

Mike is going to play with Scott at his shows at Swallow. I can't wait.

Of course, I'm so exhausted from the wedding that I can barely walk. My legs hurt so bad today. Worse than yesterday. Also, despite having worn comfortable yet stylish shoes, my feet have blisters in four places. I have shin splints, and my thighs and hamstrings are killing me. And, the front part of my foot/leg where the foot connects to the leg. Very strange.

It's all because it was an outdoor wedding in a gorgeous garden at a local hotel. The hotel is at the top of a hill, the garden about 1/4 mile at the bottom of the hill. I literally made the walk up and down the hill about 20 times running supplies down, helping the florist, helping the minister, just getting everything ready.

It was worth it. The day went great. The weather cooperated with a brief rain shower starting just as people were leaving the wedding site. It was over in less than 5 minutes.

There were only two minor problems, but nothing disastrous. The bride's grandmother who was in a wheelchair decided she had to use the restroom 2 minutes before we were ready to start. The wedding site is not easily wheelchair accessible, at least not from the hotel itself. So, I had to run across the street to an office building, see if it was open and ask if we could use the bathroom. Get two groomsmen to wheel her over there, have someone help her, let the wedding party know what was going on. Kind of a pain, but certainly not the worst thing that could happen.

The other thing was that I couldn't get the ceremonial candle lighter (that was way too big) to stay lit. I was re-lighting it for the third time as the mother-of-the-groom was walking down the aisle. Yikes.

It all worked out in the end and was a sweet, lovely ceremony. I had fun and I learned a few things and I would definitely do it again.

Despite what my legs are telling me.

Save Me

Sometimes God or the Universe or Whom or Whatever You Believe In knows just what you need.

After feeling REALLY CRAZY thanks to the ppd for a couple of days, I had a crazy-busy-pretty-okay week that ultimately left me feeling pretty damned lucky. And loved.

I got a lot of support from three old and good friends. I heard from several friends (via e-mail) that I hadn't talked to in a while and ended up being unexpectedly social this week. Social and highly caffeinated. On Monday, I invited my friend Tara over for coffee in the afternoon. We had a really nice time visiting and I definitely feel closer to her. She's a warm and friendly, down-to-earth kind of woman and I just feel extremely at ease with her.

Tuesday was a drag, but I survived. Wednesday I received a spur of the moment lunch invitation from my friend Jennifer when I ran into her at our kids' preschool. We went back to her house and ate a delicious lunch while the kids ate their grilled cheese sandwiches and played outside.

That afternoon my friend Lucy called and invited me to coffee at her house on Thursday morning. We ended up making homemade guacamole and munching and laughing our bums off at our worst parenting stories while our babies napped and our big boys were at preschool.

Then, today I went for coffee with Lucy, Laura, and Stacey. Jennifer and Tara were also supposed to be there, but sick kids prevented them from joining us. This coffee date was the only thing I had planned all week. But, I so needed to be around other people and to know I have friends who don't judge me for feeling blue when I have everything to be happy about.

They're all moms. They get it, having been there or had loved ones who were there.

I am so blessed to have fallen into this social group. There was no guarantee we would all like and accept one another. But it has really worked out well. I think I've found some women who can become lifelong friends.

I am grateful. I am glad.

Hard to Explain

I really need to clarify something.

No one is to blame for post-partum depression. Mine or anyone else's.

It's not something you did. Or said. Or didn't do.

My body has a chemical imbalance. Nothing less. Nothing more.

Life events did not cause my ppd. PPD does affect how I react to things.

Please. Don't blame yourself. Don't blame me.

It sucks. But it is what it is. And I am working my hardest to make it all better.

Tag. You're It

Jen, aka Evilynmo, offered up this little meme today and tagged us all. So, having never participated in a meme via my blog, I thought why the heck not? It's a pleasant little diversion if nothing else. Oh, and by the way, Jeremy, A., and Suz...Consider yourselves tagged.

What were you doing 10 years ago?
10 years ago this month, Scott, our friend J.ed, our puppy Cooper, and I were all moving into a house together. Scott and I had been together 18 months and in that time I had lived in four different places. The last of those homes was with a psychotic roommate who blamed me when her very, very bad dog jumped the fence and got hit by a car.

It felt great to move in with someone I could trust and have fun with, but also a little scary-exciting to think we were advancing our relationship in that way.

What were you doing 1 year ago?
Trying to get Brendan potty trained, being about three or four months pregnant with Beckett, and pretty much the same thing I'm doing now. Sad how much life stays the same even when it changes. Or maybe that's good. Who knows?

Five snacks you enjoy
1. Cheese, please. Just about any kind.
2. Hummus with carrot sticks, red bell pepper, and pita
3. Fresh, juicy peaches
4. Rold Gold Honey Wheat pretzel sticks
5. Whole Foods veggie sticks

Five songs that you know all the lyrics to
1. Rockin' the Suburbs, Ben Folds
2. Wayside/Back in Time, Gillian Welch
3. Wrecking Ball, Gillian Welch
4. Silent Night (in English and German)
5.Penny Lane, The Beatles

Five things you would do if you were a millionaire
1. Build a house or renovate a house in the City
2. Fully fund college funds for both boys
3. Do something really nice for my mother-in-law and my aunt and uncle
4. Buy a summer home in Ireland and use it as my summer hub while traveling throughout Europe
5. Donate a chunk to an animal charity of some sort

Five bad habits
1. Procrastinating (I have so many other things I should be doing right now.)
2. Losing my temper/yelling
3. Coddling people I love
4. Being unorganized
5. Wine

Five things you like doing
1. Hanging out with friends
2. Cooking/Trying new recipes
3. Reading for pleasure/Learning something new
4. Sleeping late with nothing to do/Lounging in bed with Scott while we talk and read
5. Making Brendan and Beckett laugh

Five things you would never wear again
1. Maternity clothes
2. Blue eye liner
3. Once I get there, nothing larger than a size 4 or 6
4. Business suits (although I can't seem to let go of the ones hanging in my closet that haven't been worn in 5 years)
5. plaid

Five favorite toys
1. My KitchenAid mixer with all its attachments
2. My Powerbook
3. Video IPod
4. Park swings
5. Fast cars

Kate: Which Classic Dame Are You?

Your Score: Katharine Hepburn

You scored 11% grit, 42% wit, 38% flair, and 21% class!

You are the fabulously quirky and independent woman of character. You go your own way, follow your own drummer, take your own lead. You stand head and shoulders next to your partner, but you are perfectly willing and able to stand alone. Others might be more classically beautiful or conventionally woman-like, but you possess a more fundamental common sense and off-kilter charm, making interesting men fall at your feet. You can pick them up or leave them there as you see fit. You share the screen with the likes of Spencer Tracy and Cary Grant, thinking men who like strong women.

Find out what kind of classic leading man you'd make by taking the
Classic Leading Man Test.

Link: The Classic Dames Test written by gidgetgoes on OkCupid Free Online Dating, home of the The Dating Persona Test

Blues for Breakfast

Can I just tell you how sick I am of feeling sad and depressed? Of being on this roller coaster of emotion? It's so fucking annoying to know that I drew this card in life. That for whatever reason my body chemistry simply can't handle the normal changes that accompany pregnancy and that just because I brought a new life into this world I am being punished.

It doesn't just suck for me. It sucks for the thousands of women who suffer from post-partum depression. It sucks for their kids and their husbands and their friends. I'm sure it sucks for those of y'all who read this blog to have to listen to me bitch and moan half the time.

I am sick to fucking hell of feeling this way. I can't imagine what would happen if I didn't have the knowledge, the self-awareness to know this isn't right, the support system and love of a husband who is willing to say, "You're not acting like yourself."

I keep telling myself I should feel better by now, be back to normal, not feel so....worthless. Not feel like a bad mother and wife and friend because I can't seem to shake this, to get it together and keep it that way.

I keep having weeks of welll-being where I feel great and it seems like I'm back to normal, better than ever, even. Then, some curve ball comes flying my way and it's all undone.

I don't know myself anymore and I certainly don't like this person very much.

But I know that's not right. I know, intellectually, that it's not my fault. But, I can't help feeling like a failure despite that.

However, I also know that if you were my friend and you were going through this, I would tell you to be gentle with yourself. To love yourself and ask for help. To find something you love doing and try to do it as much as you can. To ask a friend or relative or sitter to watch your kids and come have a cup of coffee with me or lunch or a movie. I would tell you to find someone to talk to who is trained to help women who are going through this. And I would tell you to forgive yourself for the mistakes you make instead of beating yourself up.

If you were a friend and your wife were going through this, I would tell you to talk to her doctor, to help her out with chores and take the kids so she could have some time for herself. I would tell you to be patient and just let her know how much you love her and how grateful you are to her for having your babies. I would tell you to remind her that she is a good mother and a good wife. I would tell you to get her to laugh.

It's difficult for anyone dealing with ppd, whether it's the woman suffering or someone who loves her and wants to help. I think it's hardest to be the one with the disease however. You're already hurting and then to compound matters, you feel like you're hurting the ones you love.

If, like me, you are going through a period of post-partum depression, know that you are not alone and there are people out there willing to help you. Find a counselor, join a support group, don't be afraid to tell your partner, your friends, or your doctor how you are feeling. There is no shame in going through this. The only shame comes from denying your feelings and thinking you can get through something of this magnitude alone.

Mama, You Been On My Mind: May's Perfect Post

It's no great insight on my part to point out that mother-daughter relationships seem like the most complicated and complex relationships that exist. Having grown up with a mom who was less than perfect, I stand in awe and wonder before my friends who have close and meaningful relationships with their mothers. More than that, I actually envy them.

My mother died in 2001, and in her typical overly dramatic fashion, died Mother's Day week. Her funeral was the Saturday before Mother's Day and I spent the next afternoon going through her house searching for anything that might tell me who my father was.

My mom was my mom and I loved her in my own way. But she was not a woman of whom I could be proud. She was loud, defiant, flashy, proud, mean, selfish, jealous, petty, vulgar, and worst of all, angry. She always put herself first and expected others to do the same. She either could not nor would not negotiate. She could never put her pride aside to either compromise or do something for the benefit of someone else.

She conceived me out of wedlock and when she had the choice of putting me up for adoption or keeping me, she kept me. And by the way, she got pregnant with me while her fiancé was in Vietnam. When he offered to marry her anyway, she refused because she was too proud, taking away any chance I had to have a dad.

All I know about my father is that my mom hated him, and according to her, he asked her to have an abortion. I know that for whatever reason, my mother had so little respect for herself that she never had a healthy or normal relationship with a man. The only two relationships she had, that I was aware of as an adult, were with men who clearly did not care about her.

I've spent the whole of my adolescent and adult life trying to figure out how to be anything but what my mother was. From my perspective, she never cared about anyone but herself.

I don't want to be that person. More and more I find myself feeling angry and jealous and petty and bitter. Where I once felt gratitude and joy and generosity and hope, now I find fear and anger and sadness. Like my mom, I often find myself approaching life from a position of scarcity rather than abundance. I know that there is plenty of love and light and hope and everything I need in this life to go around. Yet, like my mom, I find myself thinking as if I have to scrap and fight for every inch and maybe even take some of someone else's to ensure my own satisfaction.

I never used to be this way and all I can do is wonder how I got here. Well, wonder how I got here and try to craft a roadmap out of here.

I want to be a woman my sons can be proud of. I want to make their lives better than mine. I want their lives to be filled with happiness and joy and hope. I want to overflow with love...not only for my sons and husband, but for my friends, and for strangers, and for the world.

I want to be like this woman, Renratt's mom. More and more, I find myself beginning to look toward other women and mothers as the role models of love and generosity and confidence and goodness and compassion that I want to become and model for my children.

Renratt's post gets my award for May's Perfect Post. It's obvious she shares her mother's beauty and goodness and love for the world.

I am grateful to her for sharing the story of her mother's life. If I can become a fraction of the woman she was, show a modicum of the love she had for others, I can be something more than my mom. I can be someone my sons can hold in high esteem.

Dear Doctor

Earlier this evening while hanging out with Brendan and watching the evening news, a commercial for a drug for Restless Leg Syndrome came on.

Brendan watched the commercial raptly. When it was over he said, "Mommy, when your legs can't rest at night in your bed...you can come downstairs and sleep on the couch with me. And we can watch grown up shows. Or kid shows."

I couldn't figure out if he was being sweet or entirely self-serving.

Awesome/Not Awesome

I didn't get much sleep last night and feel rather grumpy and spacey as a result. All morning, as I attended Brendan's preschool end-of-year musical performance, I found myself rather bitchily thinking, "This is not awesome," much like the Geico Tiny House commercial. Not about the musical performance or the kids. No, that part was adorable. The only way I can sum up my day is with a list so, in no particular order, here are how the various experiences of my day stacked up:

Awesome: Everyone in my house eating, getting dressed, and out the door in under one hour.

Not Awesome: You (Whoever you are!) parking your fucking Honda Odyssey horizontally across three parking spaces in the preschool parking lot the morning of the spring musical and 4-year old graduation. Rude.

Awesome: My kid hamming it up on the front row, singing loudly and animatedly as he made up his own tap dance routine that none! of the other kids were doing!

Awesomer: Our friend Chris recording video of my kid the ham and promising to put it on a disc, just because he thought it was so funny.

Not Awesome: Only getting about two hours of sleep last night.

Not Awesome: Taking forever to pull your minivan straight into a parallel spot with no obstacles and making me wait, even though we're all going to be late.

Awesome: The angry little girl who stood on the front row with arms folded, scowling, through the entire musical performance. That's commitment.

Really Brilliantly Awesome: Sky Blue Sky. Either Way, Impossible Germany, and Hate It Here are instant favorites. Hate It Here is very Beatlesesque. I think Jeremy may have mentioned that, too.

Awesome: Making plans to hang out and grill at the neighborhood pool with two other couples and their kids on Saturday night.

Not Awesome: Wearing a bathing suit five months after having a baby. (Even though I have lost all but about 3 lbs. of the baby weight!)

Awesome, Baby!: Having a minute or two to read stories about good people doing good things.

Not Awesome: Teething.

Not Awesome: Temper tantrums.

Not Awesome: Being woken up 15 minutes into a perfectly lovely nap to clean up spilled milk (and wanting to cry about it).

Awesome: Scott's being booked to play at Swallow at the Hollow.

Also Awesome: Meeting new friends.

Really Not Awesome: A second night with less than three hours of sleep.

Awesome: Two sweet boys both starting the day with smiles on their faces.

Awesome: Feeling loved even when I think I'm unlovable.

Baby, I'm Amazed

Watching the love and friendship between Brendan and Beckett develop brings so much joy to my heart, it's hard to imagine that a year ago I was worried about how Brendan would relate to his new sibling and I wondered if I could love another child as much as I love Brendan.

It's such a cliché, but I do feel like my heart has grown (three sizes, even) since Beckett came into the world. My enhanced capacity to love, not only Beckett and his brother, but others as well, has genuinely taken me by surprise. I am so thankful.

What I really find amazing, however, is the ability of my sons to fall so easily and naturally into love.

When Brendan talks to Beckett or simply sits beside him, Beckett's whole face lights up. He laughs at his brother, much more than he laughs at either his dad or me. And, as I've mentioned before, when he's upset, often the thing that calms him is the presence of his big bro.

Brendan is equally taken with the baby. Yesterday, when he thought I was elsewhere in the house, I caught him having the sweetest conversation with his brother. When I went upstairs, Brendan was playing in his room. After taking a basket of laundry into my room to put away, I came out and found Brendan kneeling beside Beckett's bouncy seat, holding his hand. I stood back to see what was going on and I heard Brendan say, "Beckett, you're my brother and you're my friend and I love you very much. When you get bigger we're going to play together all the time."

I wanted to crumble on the spot, incapacitated by the sheer honesty and beauty of the moment.

And then, Brendan turned around and realized I was standing there. He gave me a huge smile and a hug and was then ready to go play.

I know there may come a day when the love doesn't flow as readily between the two brothers, but for now I'm just going to enjoy each tender moment as it comes and be thankful that I have had the privilege of giving my son someone to love.

We've Been Had

I thought that I had drunk ginger ale before Saturday night. I thought I knew what it tasted like. And for several years, I thought I loved it. Then, as with many before it, this obsession for the bubbly-golden beverage subsided. In times of desperation, it became what I sipped with soda crackers to keep la malaise du matin at bay.

Saturday night, not in the mood for beer or wine, I was left with two choices: tap water or ginger ale. After a couple of glasses of water, I decided I needed something more substantially flavored and opted to try the ginger ale, a brand I'd neither seen nor heard of before.

Whooooooooooooooooooo-hoooooooooooooo-ooooooooooooh!!!! Man alive! That stuff was the best fucking ginger ale I have ever tasted. Pardon my language, y'all. You know I don't cuss much, so if I am I must be serious.

Buffalo Rock Ginger Ale is some serious stuff. Made in Birmingham, and apparently only sold in Alabama, it has a delightfully wicked kick that you just might not be expecting. When they say ginger, they mean it. It was actually spicy. In a very wonderful way. In kind of a...sexy way.

Now I wonder what other little regional delights I'm missing out on as a fan of the carbonated beverage. I've had Sundrop and RC Cola from Tennessee; Cheerwine from North Carolina. I remember a drink called Ski from when I was a kid that I had only ever had in Kentucky.

So, does anyone else have a favorite flavor of coke (or soda as y'all friends from up north like to call it) that I should try if I'm ever in your neck of the woods?

Cowtown

I have a sad confession to offer up. I have an addiction. A very pathetic addiction.

I'm addicted to a child's game. Brendan got a new toy for his birthday called a Webkin. They're stuffed animals and there's a website where you register your adoption of your stuffed pet and it creates a virtual pet for you, as well. Naturally, you have to then do things to keep your pet alive. You have to visit it, feed it, buy it things, take it to the doctor. To paraphrase Harry Dean Stanton in Fire Walk with Me, it's just more crap I've got to do. But fun. Brendan enjoys holding his stuffed frog, who Scott named Jumbo, while we visit the virtual Jumbo online. It's cute. However, the way one acquires virtual money to buy virtual food and gifts for one's webkin is to play video games. Kid games. So, once both boys are in bed, I break out the laptop and start trying to earn Jumbo the big bucks. I am addicted to one specific game, though. It's called Cash Cow. And for some reason, I find it very relaxing. But once I start playing, I have a very hard time stopping. Thankfully, the Webkins site gets shut down every night at midnight, so I'm forced to stop.

Of course, that is if I've gotten to play. The real problem is that when I'm not playing, I'm thinking about playing. I just don't get to play all that much.

C'est la vie.

Sweet Home Alabama

Despite what common folk wisdom might tell us, Scott proved on Saturday night that you can go home again. Not only can you go home, but you and your gifts can be received with joyful and open arms.

On Saturday, Scott played a house concert in Montgomery hosted by his cousin Val.

An amazingly talented artist herself, Valerie lives in a gem of a home, a tiny rustic cabin surrounded by rich and verdant life. Her backyard garden is magnificent and proved to be the ideal spot for a spring evening filled with music.

If beauty be truth as Keats once said (sort of), Saturday night might have been one of the most honest, real nights of my life. It was certainly one of the most beautiful.

About 25 folks or so came to hear Scott play under the stars. Valerie created an intimate and exquisite Southern gothic setting, a charming little Flannery O'Connor cafe with a few tables and antique wooden folding chairs spread about. Candlelight and arrangments of wildflowers surrounded a natural stage on a raised patio at the back of the garden while a colorful rug, handmade from recycled soda bottles added interest. An antebellum gunhouse anchored the background, blue-tailed skinks climbing its aging brick walls while Scott sang.

The audience was warm and open and receptive and appreciative. Made up mostly of Valerie's circle of young and vibrant artistic and activist friends, this was a group who fully enjoyed Scott's music. They especially seemed to enjoy the songs Sorry and Oil, as well as Seven Days and Never Should Have Sung That Song.

I think of the six shows Scott has played since February, this was the best. He seemed the most at ease and comfortable. His voice and guitar playing both sounded great. The audience was, hands down, the best audience yet. There were no cynical scensters. Everyone who was there was someone who came with the intention of hearing Scott play and they were all obviously people who enjoy music.

It was such a perfect, magical night. It continues to get better in my mind as I relive it.

Of course, it could never have happened without Valerie's willingness to offer up her home and artistic gifts. What a girl!

What a guy!

What a night!

I'm just delighted I have the opportunity to know them both and share in the magic.

Hey Good Lookin'

What do I have cooking?

Well, for dinner last night I tried something new. I made chicken shawarma, a really delicious Lebanese dish. It turned out pretty good. I served it with sauteed onions and red bell pepper, couscous, and roasted eggplant. With a hummus appetizer. And strawberry shortcake for dessert.

Yum.