October Song: Take Me to the Bridge

 

Rock stars demand champagne on their birthday, 

especially when Judas Priest is dining the next table over. True story.

Goal: write a song a month, with the resolve to not self-edit or worry if it’s crap. So far in songwriting, I've neglected to add a bridge to my songwriting capabilities, something I learned, listening to the Beatles Channel, that Paul and John were geniuses at. I'm still learning this craft, so I'm going to give it a try. 

I have been taking pen to paper, 

But mostly, finger to key. 

To tell stories about life, 

And sometimes about you and me. 

It may seem a little trite, 

It's new to me, that's all. 

A simple line, an easy rhyme, 

But creatively, I've hit the wall. 

Now I'm at the chorus, 

I just ran to the fridge. 

I'll repeat the chorus, 

Till I find the bridge. 

Yes - I'll repeat the chorus, 

Just take me to the bridge...

Those lads from Liverpool could do it, an easy middle eight, 

Pop songs - three minutes of joy

Appears on acetate!

[Guitar solo!]

Oh I'm living in Mitty's world,

Where I'm a huge rock star.

Expensive clothes, fancy stones, 

Big, fat shiny cars. 

Arena shows and screaming fans, 

Contract riders? The cookies Pepperidge. 

And on the cover of Rolling Stone, 

If only I find the bridge. 

Yeah take me to the bridge.

I get you there, if only I find the bridge...

September Secret Life of Objects: PotatoeBabies Trinkets

Presents!

Bubble gun!

So we went to EastTown's Street Fair over the weekend for fair food, art, and live music. 

And we got to see the PotatoeBabies do a 45-minute set.

Being birthday adjacent to the lead singer, I made a custom t-shirt of Paul McCartney singing "It's my birthday too YEAH!" just for the fun of it. 

Preparing for their set, the hype men circulated in the crowd, passing around flags, banners, ribbons, and I got a bubble gun!

Once the concert started, the hype men recirculated to pass out Cracker Jacks, boxes of cereal, old vinyl records, and presents. PRESENTS!? 

DUDE, IT'S MY BIRTHDAY!

With a smile, I was handed a big, wrapped present. It was big and heavy and I tore into it with great anticipation. 

I got a rearview mirror, a flying bat, and two microphones. 

Essentially, a pile of shit. 

Will also got a prize, and it contained a canteen, a Halloween mirror, and a I think a plastic Christmas platter. 

Dave too scored, a size 6 pair of Anne Klein shoes I'm going to repaint, and a Miller Lite volleyball bar sign. 

So one of the microphones sits in my pen cup, along with my Baseball Hall of Fame pen, and the mini jar of mini trinkets I've collected. 

It wasn't about the present itself, but about the prize. 

September Song: September Song

Twenty-six years in and still showing off the cleavage. 

Oh, and wearing the SLOO sapphire necklace from August. 

Goal: write a song a month, with the resolve to not self-edit or worry if it’s crap. September is my birth month, so I always think of it as turning the page. A new school year also marks the passing of time, and I'm still thinking about the old love playlist from July. Can I write a love song? The rhythm I have in my head is oddly Green Day pop-punk. 

Only the good die young, 

Seems pretty cold. 

Not a fan of thinking, 

I die before I get old. 

September is a no man's land, 

For poets and romance. 

Many minds turn to football, 

Instead of a slow dance. 

What's a love song for those middle-aged? 

Maybe a rockin' dedication, 

A smile before it fades. 

The kid's in high school now, 

And we've glanced at mortality. 

I love you with all my heart, 

It's there in totality. 

Oh, September is a no man's land, 

The calendar turns the page. 

Please turn and recognize, for a moment, 

The love that lasts an age.

What's Right in the World, part 2: It's Andre's Turn

I was playing a stupid app game trying to fall asleep when I decided to check social media one more time before going to bed. 

Andre made it to the show!

He pinch-hit on 9/1, going 0 for 2, but turned a sweet double play. But in his first major league start, his first major league hit was a two-run home run. 

We had nothing to do with his success, but grateful for our part in his journey. 

Why Art Matters: Church Windows

Dave’s Uncle Jerry passed in July, and we traveled to Port Huron for his service. It was a sweet and tender send-off. 

What gave me solace were these tiny windows that flanked the altar. Knowing a little bit about the art of creating stained glass windows, I was charmed by their simplicity and their whimsy. How many children have passed a sermon staring at the balloons, or made up a story about that butterfly? 

I certainly don't know the stories behind these windows, but I'd like to. 

Typing Out Loud: Maybe It's Me

Do it for the boy.

I'm having some high school angst, and I'm 36 years removed from my own graduation. 

I'm having mom-of-high-schooler low self-esteem issues.

Scenario one: I took two days off to help with band uniforms. I was good enough at it that we got the seniors, juniors, and all but two of the sophomores fitted in on Monday. I had to work Tuesday, so I had Wednesday free. I get a text message that I was not needed on Wednesday. 

"Not needed" set me to anxious. Why was I not needed?

OMG, calm down...

Scenario two: The next week was Dave's turn, and he planned to be there all day, every day, for a week. I was going to show for lunch and dinner to help do dishes, clean up, and help with snack duties. The benefit of this was free lunch and dinner. One day, I show up for lunch, everything was already taken care of, and I was invited by the lunch lady to have lunch. 

I was gently chastised for taking lunch when I wasn't volunteering, which was said to me as I was putting dishes away, asking the crew for something to do to earn my keep. A slight misunderstanding that my head made a mountain out of a molehill. 

Drama much?

Scenario three: dropping Will off to perform in the local parade, I asked casually if I could help. I was ignored completely while they were whisking around doing this and that. So I left. 

The parade was nice. 

I found solace in pitching in to help with athletic boosters, first cleaning the concession stands, then selling spirit wear at the community celebration event. Low risk, no drama, even gave me time to walk around with my family to see and do things. And I'm holding out hope that the cheer moms will be welcoming. 

I don't know, people are too busy to be running around massaging my ego, but some friendly inclusion would be nice. Or maybe I need to step aside and let all of this be about Will and Pia - it does not have to be about me. 

Well, the cheer moms HAVE been welcoming and now I'm one of the athletic board booster representatives for cheer. Be careful what you wish for! 

Secret Life of Objects - Navy Silk Dress

Just one more wear?

Putting laundry away and picking a dress to wear to a wedding, I pulled my lovely and loyal navy blue silk out. 

Where’d I get it? The clearance rack at Old Navy well over 20 years ago on a work-free afternoon when we lived in Saint Louis. 

It has survived this long because frankly, I was too fat to wear it for a couple of years. I put on weight struggling with fertility and then again after I had Will. It was a New Year's goal back in 2012 to be able to wear it to my class reunion in November, and I was able to start wearing it again by May. 

The hilarious "That door is a liar!" situation with Jill.

Hanging with Rob, I'm looking especially cute if I do say so. 

It’s effortless chic, a simple A-line with a slight ruffle at the neck and cuffs, the fabric is light and floaty, and it drapes but doesn’t cling. It dresses up with nice shoes and jewels or down with sandals and sunglasses. Falling just above the knee, the length is neither scandalous nor frumpy. 

It still fits, but alas, the fabric is wearing thin and discolored in the armpits, no matter how carefully I have hand-washed and air-dried. 

Twenty years, clearance rack, it doesn’t owe me a dime, but I can’t seem to part with it. Maybe a new effortless “it” dress will allow me to let it go.