February 28: Goodbyes

Sometimes we don't know we've been holding our breath until we can let it out. Gosh, breathing is nice. Said goodbye to a possibility today I'd been holding space for in my heart unbeknownst to me. Went through a range of emotions to land on peace and gratitude. 

And yes, yes I did just add Night Ranger to my playlist. 

Night Ranger - Goodbye

February 27: Adele Love

We have Adele love around our home. I don't know of anyone who doesn't admire Adele. Her raw talent wows me.

Aria can sing this one in entirety. It brings me to tears. It also sounds great when sung in the shower.

Adele - Someone Like You

February 26: Call Me Florence

I spent my evening with my book club (as a member’s son says, we read wine labels only). We were menu planning for a meal we’ll donate to a local homeless shelter on Sunday. One of our members recently asked if we’d like to do something for a local shelter, and we all agreed it was a good cause. We are donating to Hawthorne Hill. Our meal will feed a few adults and many children. I cannot think of a better cause, or one that warms my heart more than giving children a good meal.

I was reflecting on charitable acts on my drive home from our planning session (which was conveniently held at a restaurant with half price wine bottles on a Wednesday night). 

In my twenties, I found myself single, a college dropout, and without direction. I lived in Iowa City, worked at a radio station, and had abundant free time.

This equation ended up equaling what I term my Florence Nightingale era. I volunteered everywhere I could think of spending my time. Ronald McDonald House hanging out with healthy siblings while parents spent time in the hospital with kids fighting for their lives. Habitat for Humanity pounding nails. Make a Wish Foundation, using contacts made through my job at the radio station to raise money to fund kids dreams. Crisis hotline, answering calls from people desperate for help. 

I find myself far more self-involved in this era of my life. Being a mama takes up more time than I could have imagined in my Florence era. I still do charitable acts, but not with such dedication as I had in my youth. I do more contributing of money or goods than time these days, it seems. 

I find myself humbled in my blessings and more than glad to contribute a meal to some local families who need it. Tacos are on the menu, by the way. And baked goods, of course.

The Florence version of me lived in the radio station era. It was an AOR radio station – album-oriented rock. I went to rock school to study such fundamentals as Pearl Jam (just emerging in that era) and this band. Oh, how I love the Stones.

PS - you almost were served Madonna tonight. Like a Prayer was playing during our wine/planning session. Intoxicating to remember Madge in my youth. But Florence demands the Stones, and who am I to deny a lady in need?

The Rolling Stones - Sympathy for the Devil

February 25: Between You and Me

Sometimes when you get the blues, you just need to belt out a great song. 

Hello, Elton. Go ahead - sing along! 

Elton John - I Guess That's Why They Call It The Blues

February 24: Cleaning Music

I asked Aria to help me with some dishes tonight. She said, "Bring it!" which translates to this. This is our cleaning soundtrack. There is a lot of dancing involved in cleaning at our home.

Beyoncé - Single Ladies (Put a Ring On It)

February 23: Much and Nothing

Sunday night already? Really?

I often end a weekend feeling I did much and nothing. I guess in truth I feel this way ending a work week also. Life seems often to be spent doing many things, none of them as well as I’d like.

I’m getting better and better at not judging myself for what is not done, and championing myself in what I have accomplished instead. It used to be an unfriendly place in my head. It’s gentler these days. Mainly loving with a dash of sass.

There is beauty in learning to surrender, I think. Being at home in your own skin, as Eddie says. 

Eddie Vedder - You're True

February 22: Roller Girls

One of Aria’s friends had a roller skating birthday party today. My afternoon was spent in a time warp. 

The roller rink scene hasn’t changed much over the years.  The skates are still a non-descript Carhart-ish tan with orange wheels flashing like caution signs over the waxed boards of the rink floor. The soundtrack still includes YMCA. Kids all dare each other to limbo. The mirror ball and light show are met with ooohs and aaaaahs whenever the lights dropped.

One of my greatest delights is re-experiencing my own childhood through my daughter’s eyes. She was enchanted with skating, despite coming home with a rug burn on her knee from a wipe-out while leaving the carpeted area for the main floor.

There were two roller rinks in my own youth: one in Fort Dodge (about 30 minutes from Pomeroy) and another in Prairie du Chien near my dad’s home in McGregor. Both were heaven for me. Both were rarely visited – a huge splurge for my family. I would go round and round until I had a blister on the ball of my right foot from pushing off on the turns. I would ignore the pain, skating as long as I could. I've always loved the feeling of gliding. 

Do you remember when there were shops that sold t-shirts you could customize with all sorts of iron-on images? I once got to pick out a sky blue t-shirt, have a sparkly rainbow decal ironed onto the front and “Andrea” on the back. This was my roller skating t-shirt. Nothing felt cooler than that shirt. Nothing.

I used to have these metal roller skates that you could strap to your regular shoes. I skated back and forth in front of my home in Pomeroy. The sidewalk was not smooth and the skates were not very effective. My feet fell out of them often. I loved them anyway. They felt like freedom.

This song is the roller rink personified. A bit of youth blended with a bit of today. My favorite. 

Devo - Whip It

February 21: Jump!

This song makes me giggle for two reasons:

1) My daughter did Jump Rope for Heart today to raise money for the American Heart Association. She has practiced her jumping style for weeks, and raised a good bit of money to help a wonderful cause. I’m immensely proud. I shared this song with her to get her into the spirit this morning. She turned her head to the side and said, “Seriously?”. Something was lost in translation.

2) I had the sheet music for this song growing up. I played it on the piano all the time and felt so cool that I could do so. Yes. Yes, I was immensely cool.

Happy Friday, all!

Van Halen - Jump

February 20: Fine Art of the Potluck

Today brought a new phenomenon to my world: thundersnow! We went from hail to rain to sleet to snow within a few hours. The thunder mixed with hail was surreal.

To combat the weather, I made a lovely chicken soup. I had a capon breast in the crockpot all day. Do you speak crockpot? It’s almost a religion in my kitchen.

Crockpots are nostalgic, in a way. Part of being raised in a small town church was the potlucks. Those church women know how to cook. Casseroles, jello salads, pies. Oh the pies. Crockpots filled with every imaginable meat dish from little smokies to meat balls. My favorite was always the calico beans.

My mom has never enjoyed cooking. These potlucks were both a culinary feast, but also an exploration of so many foods I would not have been exposed to otherwise.

Otis doesn’t belong at those potlucks, but he does appear often in my kitchen. Aria and I will be sharing a steaming bowl of soup with him tonight. 

Otis Redding - The Dock of the Bay

February 19: Blue Things

Blue comes in 3's today: Me. Blue Man Group. Joni Mitchell.

Today was really rough. I’m not going to fib. 

However, I get to end my evening with a flourish. I’m heading to Aria’s parent/teacher conference in a bit to hear someone else glow about my daughter. I then am going to see The Blue Man Group with a friend.  

This song is about ink, so not really related to my day (other than the title), but Joni Mitchell is never wrong.

Blessed. Even on the rough days.

Joni Mitchell - Blue

February 18: Everybody Dance Now

This song is college. Iowa City bars. Beer. Dancing. Ped Mall. Gyro. An occasional trip to DC to visit my man’s family. Clubs in DC. Beer. Dancing. Yes.

This song makes me feel like my shoes are sticking to the floor, my senses are all at full throttle, and the smile on my face is ear to ear as I own the dance floor. If Taylor Swift has “22”, this song is “19” for me.

(I know this is an abrupt shift in the playlist from yesterday. This is something I love about playlists. No logic is required.) 

C&C Music Factory - Gonna Make You Sweat (Everybody Dance Now)

February 17: A Tribute to John Denver

Some music seems to follow us through life, and become new through experiences we associate with it along the way. John Denver (of all people) is one of those guys who has come in and out of my life at various times.

1^st Era of JD:

As a child, John Denver owned a place of honor in our car. His greatest hits cassette tape was one of two cassette tapes we had in our little Ford Escort station wagon. The backseat had bucket seats, but that didn’t stop my family from cramming three kids into them on those occasions when we didn’t throw my step-brother into the back. “You crossed the line.” “No – YOU crossed the line.” Oh, the fond memories of childhood torture. Despite the ruckus we raised, we rarely got to listen to music in that car. When we did, it was John Denver or Kenny Rogers.

We trekked from NW Iowa to NE Iowa – a 5 hour drive that felt like a lifetime, on a regular basis. My mom’s family was still in McGregor, as was my dad for most of my youth. It was a place of reunions and kid exchanges. It was (and is) the home of my heart.  The Escort also took us vacationing to Canada (tent camping the summer of a draught. Guess what? It rained the entire time). To Kansas City for a Worlds of Fun adventure. To Mount Rushmore.

We had a few different Escort wagons in my youth. They were all red. They were all really small. Not a single one of them could climb a hill without having to downshift. Poor little 4 banger. John Denver was there to keep us company on the rare occasion my parents tired of hearing kids arguing and turned on the radio.

2^nd Era of JD:

Iowa State Fair. We made an annual pilgrimage to the State Fair. I mostly remember my step-father staring at the old engines that smoked and made loud noises. I remember expensive food we didn’t eat and bologna sandwiches squashed in bags that we did eat. I remember sweating profusely under the Iowa summer sun.

One summer (1984ish) John Denver took over the grandstand. We had tickets. It was a combination of excitement (we didn’t buy anything, like, ever) and pre-teen angst (dear Lord – John Denver, really? But, like, my friends might see me? Gag me with a spoon…). I spent the concert oscillating between singing along (I knew all the songs courtesy of the cassette tape) and slouching in my seat acting disenchanted. 

From this vantage point, I can admit he was a great performer, an amazing story teller, and a kind and gentle soul. I’m so glad I got to see him. I wish I could tell that young girl to set aside the affect and listen closer. Remember the set list. The timber of his voice. His laugh (which was contagious).

3^rd Era of JD:

NE Iowa. A trip with a man to kayak the Upper Iowa and hike the area. 

A cabin outside Dorchester. Secluded. Lovely. 

The cabin owner provided all kinds of CD collections. What did I select for the cabin's soundtrack? You know the one. 

John Denver - Take Me Home, Country Roads

February 16: Frozen

I've loved my Sunday. Winter is always better through a child’s eyes. I would have holed up with coffee and books today left to my own devices. Aria insisted on playing in the snow, and so we did. We hit Sleepy Hollow, a local spot with outdoor recreational options, for tubing.

Four runs, 15 stories up, with the courtesy of a tow rope.  

We lasted two hours before we were too frozen to continue.

If you couldn’t tell from her valentine choice, Aria is Frozen obsessed. She was singing “Let It Go” as we sailed down the hills. We did solo runs, side by side runs, and hug-the-feet-and-make-a-train runs. She was singing the entire time.

The helpers at the top of the hill started calling us Elsa and Anna. There was a lot of giggling. It was a beautiful day.

I am now snuggled under blankets with cocoa in hand, smile in heart and on my lips. This song is stuck in my head. Cannot imagine why.

Idina Menzel - Let It Go

February 15: Ides of February

The ides of February. It’s snowing. Time to dig deep and lean into this winter thing. In my world on unhurried weekend mornings, that translates to my kitchen nook, a pot of coffee at the ready, a baked good in the oven to fill the house with warm and friendly scents (today this is banana cake to be frosted in cream cheese goodness once it cools), and music of all varieties streaming across my laptop.

Some morning find me shoe shopping online. We perhaps haven’t talked about my shoe addiction. It isn’t quite as strong as my need for coffee, but it’s formidable. There are worse things… Some days I dream of vacations I’ll take and travel mentally. Others I plant my next season’s garden while gazing out the window at my dormant flower beds. The birds entertain me (and the cats) at the feeders. There is nothing more gorgeous than a male cardinal eating sunflower seeds amidst the snow on a winter’s day. My eye looks out over a field of white and craves verdant hues. My heart is happy right where it is.

It is days like this one that I realize I’m incredibly easily contented. A little coffee. A dream or two to occupy my fancy. There is joy in my now.

This is playing in my kitchen at the moment. Wish I could share a slice of cake and a cuppa with you. Enjoy your Saturday, wherever you might be!

Gillian Welch - Winter's Come and Gone

February 14: Being Proven Wrong

I’ll be honest. I expected to write today, “It’s Friday. That is all.” I was somewhat dreading Valentine’s Day. How wrong I was. I love it when I’m wrong. Life has this way of wanting to show me that love always finds a way. That I can scheme and plan and hope and dream, but that life will greet me at every turn with something better, if only I'll surrender my control of it all. Who I am to disagree?

This is me being wrong today. See? I'm still smiling. I'm good at being wrong. (And yes, I wanted to show you that I even wore red in honor of the day).

Signs of love today?

I received texts and messages throughout the day from friends wishing me Valentine’s joy. I often abhor technology and how it’s changing our society and de-evolving our communication skills, but one of the perks is instant access. To hear from a cherished high school friend, be able to see my nephew’s valentine to my sister, to learn that another friend married his love today in Hawaii, these are things I treasure. 

I took a break from conference calls to open a few packages on my doorstep. I had an autographed cookbook from a dear college friend, and a box of chocolates from my dad and step-mom. I promptly opened the chocolate. Life? Saved. Perfect break with a cuppa. My mom sent a Valentine card and treat in the mail. It was like a mini-Christmas. 

I was blessed to join Aria at school for her classroom Valentine’s party. Her valentines turned out really cute:

Her Valentine’s box was her own thing. Aria is obsessed with Club Penguin. These, for those of you who aren't familiar, are puffles all over the box. They are the penguin’s pets. I appreciated her creativity on the project.

At school, the kids ate too much sugar and played bingo with candy hearts. I love being able to see Aria’s friends and how she interacts in the classroom. I do not take it for granted that I can pop in for an hour during the day and then head back to work. It means the world to me to see her class in action, to swing by the principal’s office with a valentine, to walk the halls where my daughter spends her day.

We came home from school to find that our neighbor had left Aria a valentine in our mailbox with this gorgeous card that said our neighborhood was brighter because Aria is in it. We have lived here seven years and this is the first time we have received a kind gesture from this particular neighbor. It brought tears to my eyes – incredibly touched.

The final straw? The one that told me I needed to surrender to love? To continue to let life unfold as it wishes? Flowers with a card that simply read, “You are precious.” No signature. Is there anything more delicious? I think not.

I wish I could include scent on this post. The flowers are heavenly. My house now even smells like love. I could not be more blessed, on Valentine's Day, or just a plain old Friday night. I hope your world is filled with blessings also.

Grace Potter - All You Need Is Love

February 13: Sweetness

We are wrapping up Valentine preparations here. Tonight, Aria is finishing the Valentine box to bring to her classroom. The Valentines for her classroom kids are all made. We swung by Chocolate Storybook (a local chocolaterie) for her teacher's caramel apple (a tradition we've done for all Aria's teachers on special holidays). 

At the shop, Aria asked me if she could borrow $8. I told her she could, with a smile forming in my heart. Being a single mom means many things. One of those things is that for holidays, if Aria is going to get me a gift, I'm generally with her when she's buying it. Typically paying for it. We've worked out an agreement of sorts for just such occasions. 

I don't ask what she needs the money for, and she tries her best to covertly pay for her goods with me waiting by the door. If she's saved her allowance for my gifts, she'll ask me to save it in my purse and then retrieve it before paying. Her gifting is charming in its transparency. 

We got home from the shop, and she immediately presented me with my chocolates. I asked if she wanted to wait for Valentines to give them to me, and she said she couldn't wait. She loved me so much and wanted to be sure I knew it. She also wanted to be sure I would be her Valentine? 

How could I say no?

This song is called The Three of Us, but to me, it's always felt like my time with Aria. I really don't have words to make the feeling tangible, but it's beauty and peace. And joy. Deep joy.

Ben Harper - The Three of Us

February 12: Skies of Gray

Happy Wednesday all,

I don't have much a'brew today. Training for my new gig at work. Running ragged to pull together the evening's activities with Aria. My thoughts are of my pillow, in truth.

Enjoy some Po' Girl. Love this song and hope you will also.

Po' Girl - Skies of Gray

February 11: Frivolity

Around age 7 or 8, I got to have my birthday party with a few girlfriends at Happy Joe’s Pizza in Fort Dodge. This was heaven for a little girl who rarely got to go out to eat, and never with friends. Before Chuck E. Cheese, there was Happy Joe’s. It was heaven for kids. For my incredibly humble beginnings, it was a luxury event.  

We ate pizza. Drank soda (gasp!). Watched the performing animals on stage (remember the big gorilla way before a rat took over?). Ate ice cream. I had an affinity for their mint sundaes. Giggled and danced and lived as only young girls can. I was created treasured memories and didn't even know it.

I even got to have a quarter to play a song in the jukebox. What did I play, friends? Well, it was the early 80s. I was feeling sassy. Pat knew just what I needed.

Sing along, won’t you? 

Pat Benatar - Hit Me With Your Best Shot

February 10: Compassion

I came across a woman (a stranger) crying in the restroom at work today. I didn't know what to say and didn't want to walk by without acknowledging her pain, so I just hugged her. She hugged me back pretty big. 

We aren't very comfortable with most emotions as a society, are we? If a person isn't happy or at least "okay" we don't quite know how to approach them. We are taught to hide so much. 

I felt shy to encounter this person in tears. My impulse was that pain is a private emotion. Then I imagined myself in a cold bathroom during working hours, so sad over "x" that I couldn't stop myself from crying. If someone walked by me without pause, if they ignored me, I'd feel shame. I didn't want to add an ounce of pain to her world. 

I didn't have words for this stranger, or even want to intrude upon what was causing the tears. I just wanted her to know that there is compassion in the world. 

It was probably the most effective thing I'll get done today.

Kate Bush - This Woman's Work

February 9: Boundary Work

Patty Griffin is one of my very favorites. Her lyrics often could have come directly from my heart. If I were a song writer, she would be one of those shining examples that I would guide myself by to hone my craft. A North star of talent. I’m excited to share her with you.

I think many of us have that one musician who speaks to us, who tells our tale. I remember I once had a friend tell me that Mariah Carey seemed to be experiencing life with her. (I also remember being somewhat mystified by that). Another friend found comfort in Don Henley. Patty is my girl.

This song is a goodbye one for me. It feels like a combination of heartache and that glimmer of hope you get at a glimpse of peace after a long raging storm. That relief of letting go of pain and no longer owning something that just doesn't work. Accepting an end.

I am a fiercely loyal person, and letting go of relationships that don’t honor me has not been a strength for me in the past. There’s something profound in the simplicity of certain concepts. In the event of an emergency, put on your own oxygen mask first. You have to take care of yourself to care for others. Loving and caring for yourself is good, not selfish. Pearls of wisdom from Patty: “You must always know how long to stay, and when to go.”

Emotional boundaries appear effortless to some. I don’t know if this is because they were raised to witness and emulate healthy ones, or a personality trait. I know that for me, boundaries are lessons I've been forming over a lifetime rather than innate truths enacted naturally and then refined through experience.

I have to monitor myself for fear-based decisions. Am I trying to avoid conflict and being untrue to myself in the process? Am I biting my tongue for fear of rejection? Am I sustaining a relationship with someone based upon fear of abandonment? Would it be better for me to end the relationship and drop the notion of being abandoned by creating the ending? Am I acting to avoid guilt? These are all ways that fear finds the little cracks in our emotional walls and seeps in.

Fear is the opposite of love. Fear also can make you very susceptible to manipulation, to accepting a role in an unequal relationship. I felt in my baseline understanding of love that it was kind to care for another’s needs before my own. Self-sacrifice was a big theme in my youth. I learned it well. To not say something that would either hurt someone, or cause me to be punished by them. I was very easily conditioned in relationships to be the perfect partner for a manipulator. I own all of this, and have no blame for those past partners. What we permit, we promote. 

If you often describe yourself as a people pleaser, you may want to consider your own boundaries. You may also want to consider that giving is control and receiving is letting go of control. Concepts I've been embracing of late. What a journey to learn to receive!

The more I have built up my boundaries and become empowered, the better my relationships have become. The interesting thing about my journey is that it hasn't been intuitive despite how basic these concept can seem. It’s why simplicity wows me.

Boundaries. Let him fly.

Patty Griffin - Let Him Fly

February 8: Austria - Part Two

Our Austrian tale picks up at the Höldrichsmühle, my home away from home for a few weeks. Located in Hinterbrül outside of Vienna, the hotel was across from a bus stop that would take me to the U-Bahn – their train system. I became incredibly adept at navigating Vienna and the surrounding area on my own.

Hoeldrichsmuehle Hotel

Vienna itself was stunning. Architecturally I was blown away. I took many pictures of different buildings only to learn they were used for general office work and such. They didn’t impress me less for their utilitarian usage. I also learned that as stunning as a building might be, as years pass the photo of a building alone doesn’t touch the heart as much as one with someone you know standing in front of it. The photos of the buildings remind me that I was alone there in seeing them. There was no one to take a photo. We hadn’t subscribed to selfies in that era.

I stopped into a pub one day (with a sign telling me it’d opened in 1447) and drank beers with a handful of saucy older gentlemen in tweed suits with little hats atop their heads. They didn't speak English and I could only swear in German. It worked out. I ate schnitzel. I don’t really care for schnitzel. I drank more beer.

I toured Seegrotte, which is the largest underground lake in Europe.

Explore Seegrotte

During WWII, aircrafts were built underground in the caves. Something I found extremely interesting on the tour was that the guide said there had been over 2,000 workers in the caves. When I asked about them, it turned out they were prisoners from Mauthausen Concentration Camp, as well as POW’s. Toward the end of the war, the Germans destroyed the factory to prevent it from falling into Allied hands. When I asked what became of the prisoners, the guide was matter of fact. They were killed. He pointed to a small plaque on the wall. By way of comparison, there is quite an ornate shrine to St. Barbara, patron saint of miners. The shrine is called out on the tour. I had to ask about the workers to be directed to the plaque, which notes there were prisoners and POWs but not that they were killed there. The cave tour included a boat ride and was incredibly fascinating, but I will tell you that after I heard about those deaths, I could not wait to come to the surface and breathe free air again. It hurt my heart.

I learned how to order my coffee in the café, “Wiener Melange, bitte.” By my third day, I was greeting the hotel staff with “morgen” rather than “guten morgen.” I was meshing in the small ways that mean you are assimilating. I went into countless churches and museums, soaking in the rich history of the place. I became an expert at their mass transit methods.

Most people in Austria don’t (or wouldn’t) speak English with me. They were not warm people overall. The men in the bar were fun. The tow truck driver succumbed to the ridiculousness of Lenny Kravitz singing American Woman while he sat in a truck with one. A nun on a bus was kind to me once – teaching me to pronounce Höldrichsmühle properly as the bus driver had gotten angry with me when he couldn’t understand my final destination. I remember this because there were so few moments of kindness there.

I drove the (repaired) company car along the autobahn to Salzburg. I stopped at several points along the way and twirled in the Alps like Maria Von Trapp. I visited Hohensalzburg Castle, which was constructed beginning in 1077. I'm not sure why I look so giggly at the top of the Castle. Must have been drinking beer...

My very favorite memory is of attending Verdi’s Rigoletto at the State Opera House. Everyone was formally dressed and every seat was filled. I admire a culture that embraces the arts. The acoustics were stunning. We were in a box with a perfect view of the stage. It was a total Pretty Woman moment. My very first formal opera. I fell in love.

I wish I could re-experience Austria (and Europe in general). I loved so many moments I had there, but would share them with someone to better experience them. I'd also bring along a digital camera. Wow - my photos were poor quality. 

Maybe someday my path will lead me back to where the hills are alive... Today I've got a 10 year-old with a water park addiction that tends to guide our vacations. And I’m perfectly fine with that. 

Verdi - Bella figlia dell'amore

February 7: Austria - Part One

My now ex-husband, at the time boyfriend, went to work in Austria for over six months while we were dating. I went to visit him for a few weeks, staying outside Vienna in Hinterbrühl. It was a dichotomous trip. I was over the moon to visit Europe for the first time. On the other hand, I was alone for most of my vacation, as he was working. I was left to my own devices to explore the region.

Nothing tastes better than when shared with someone else. I don’t cook grand meals to eat them alone. I love to watch the pleasure my meals can create for someone else. The conversation that accompanies the food adds to its flavor. I love to dine, not eat. The same is true of experiences in general. Nothing felt lonelier than exploring a foreign country alone.

I was around 25. I remember feeling grown up then but when I look back, I was in-between. Not girl and not woman. I find it odd we only assign “tween” status to young girls. We are so often tweenish, aren't we?

I’ll tell you something funny. I was so glad to go, and am grateful even now that I did, but when I think of being there what I feel is hollow in my heart. That aching hollow you get inside sometimes. What loneliness feels like, I guess. A phantom pain. It’s not an easy time to remember. But there was beauty too. And so I share it.

I went from Des Moines to Minneapolis. I spent three hours in Minnesota before heading on an overnight flight to Amsterdam. I had a seven hour layover in Amsterdam before finally getting to Austria. I decided to explore the city as much as possible. I’m so glad I did. It felt brave and cavalier at the time. It was a good confidence booster.

 I walked past stands of tulips which were heaven (it was March) on the way to the curb. The skies were gray and the air was crisp (around 45F). I hailed a taxi and asked the driver what I should do with seven hours. He said I should spend it with him – it was too beautiful of a day to work anyway. He proceeded to drive us to a Bulldog where we had a drink. We then strolled along the canals to visit an exhibit of Van Gogh self-portraits and through a flower market. We listened to street musicians in the Red Light District. It was magnificent. Everyone was incredibly friendly in Amsterdam. The taxi driver returned me to the airport just in time to board my flight to Vienna.

I got to Vienna in the evening. I left customs and went toward baggage claim where my ex was to meet me. My heart was filled with butterflies and excitement – reunions are my favorite. He wasn't there. The bags were delayed in coming out. After 45 minutes, I got my suitcase. I had attached a brightly patterned scarf so no one would mistake my bag for their own. It was rather tattered. He still wasn't there. This was in the era before cell phones. I had no way to contact him to find out where he was. He arrived a few hours later. I was sitting dejectedly atop my suitcase wondering if I should go get a hotel on my own or just buy a ticket home and scrap the whole thing. He’d been skiing and was late picking me up because the day had slipped away from him.

I was not pleased. I tried to not be a sour puss, but can you imagine? It’s your partner you've dated for years at this point, who has been across an ocean? All you want is to run into their arms. But they were busy with something else so don’t make it on time to get you. No regret. No shame. Just matter of fact I was doing something else but am here now. Hindsight may be 20/20, but I cannot tell you that I wouldn't have gone on a single date with my ex, because that would eradicate my daughter as she exists today from my world. I can tell you I’d have worked less at making his being late ok for him. I was hurt quite terribly by it.

We got my bags to the car and starting heading out of the airport parking area. The car broke down. My ex, who was a mechanical engineer, mind you, had stopped for gas right before picking me up. He put regular gasoline in a diesel car. Yep. Killed it. It was a company car. Lovely.

This photo is me sitting in the car waiting for a tow truck to come haul us away. Me disappointed by the greeting I got at the airport. Disappointed and yes, disgusted. I’ll admit it. I could not believe my ex couldn't figure out he’d been driving a diesel car. I mean, they sound different. The car had a big notice on the gap cap with “Diesel only” on it. Many cars in Austria run on diesel. You had to go out of your way to find regular gasoline. Mechanical engineer is not brain surgeon but really?! That might be the 24 hours of travel followed by sitting alone in tears at an airport talking. But I doubt it.

Airport security after verifying we weren't terrorists stopping traffic for kicks and giggles called a tow truck. The tow truck driver spoke no English. He did not know where to take the car (and us). We didn't know either. We looked in the glove box and found the dealership where the car was purchased. We decided to tow the car there. We all rode in silence for an hour or so.

When we dropped the car at the dealership, my ex found a payphone where he called his employer to tell him he’d killed the car and where it was. The tow trucker driver and I were left in the truck in an uncomfortable silence. He was in his 50s, had a scruffy face, puffy eyes (it was around 2 in the morning by then), and no patience for stupid Americans who couldn't fill a car’s gas tank properly. So the seconds ticked by in silence. He was growing impatient – I could feel his desire to be home. To crawl back into bed. Finally to break the tension, I reached over and turned on the radio.

This song was on. Thank you, Lenny. The driver looked at me. I looked at him. He pointed at me and giggled. Yes, giggled. We sang. It was not my most elegant duet, but it was delicious. He only knew the refrain. It was more than enough.

My ex came back to the truck. We turned the radio off and drove to the hotel in silence. The thing in retrospect that resounds with me is that a sullen man awoken in the night to rescue strangers brought me more comfort than my ex did at the time.

There are some beautiful moments I had in Vienna. I’ll share those tomorrow. Tonight I’ll leave you in the capable hands of Lenny Kravitz.

Lenny Kravitz - American Woman

February 6: Kate Hudson envy

I’m not a jealous gal, but Kate Hudson has gotten to be with a few musicians that I adore. Chris Robinson would likely be too liberal in the sex, drugs and rock & roll arena for me to handle. Matt Bellamy, at 5’7” could be a bench press toy for my 5’10” in my stocking feet self. But both gents are talented artists. I’d love to watch them jam any old time. To inspire a song or two? Icing on the cake… Lucky Kate.

Progressive / space rock doesn't generally make my soundtrack, but this song is kind of addicting. Give it a listen and see what you think.

Muse - Madness

February 5: Sounds of Childhood

One of my favorite childhood memories made with my sister and step-sister was the summer where we put on musical productions. I was around 9. We had a record player, a curtain for a backdrop, and choreographed moves that make Beyoncé look like an amateur. OK, perhaps we weren't that polished. But we had a lot of fun prepping for the show and singing along with records.

 

The songs that I remember most vividly were from a Super Girls triple record compilation album. It had such classics as Stop in the Name of Love, Leader of the Pack, Chapel of Love, and It’s In His Kiss. We would put together a set list and then decide who was going to front each song and who’d be on backup. It was quite an endeavor.

 

My very favorite song on that album was Lollipop, because of the popping sound you get to make in it, the clapping and the choral round at the end. Kids love learning to make new sounds. Aria spent a month learning to snap her fingers. Click her tongue. Blow and pop a bubble. Whistle. The clasped hand fart. Beat boxing. Currently we’re endeavoring bird calls with our hands.

 

Needless to say, when Aria was about 3, we sang this song a lot. Tell me you can listen to this song and not want to stick your finger in your mouth and create that pop? No way.

Chordettes - Lollipop

February 4: 90s Rock Girls

There is one of those Facebook quizzes going around that tells you which 90s alternate rock girls you mesh with best. Go ahead – take it. It’s highly scientific, I’m sure.

http://www.buzzfeed.com/perpetua/which-90s-alt-rock-grrrl-are-you

It was no surprise to me that my results came back with Tori Amos. Clearly my flannel preference would lead me toward this result. No other 90s rock girl could be closer to my heart. I heart Tori.

I cannot even begin to tell you how many times I listened to the Little Earthquakes album. It spoke to shadowed corners in my soul. Her lyrics make me ache. Brought instant tears. Said dark, forbidden things I couldn't myself.

I saw Tori perform at the Paramount (Cedar Rapids, IA) in the 90s. She was brilliant. Her talent was bigger than the venue – overwhelming to witness. She’s also quite an odd bird. I would forgive her anything because of what she can do on a piano.

This song is perfect for a snowy Tuesday. This song is perfect. 

Tori Amos - Winter

February 3: Briar Patch Memories

Do you remember this from Out of Africa?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rtX9iNlopbk

Oh I adore this movie. Brilliant Meryl. Robert Redford. Sweeping musical scores and stunning scenery. A strong woman taking on new frontiers. Timeless.

Well, I had an online business in Iowa. I was blessed to stay home with Aria when she was 18 months until she was almost 3. I got rather lonely and bored while home. My ex traveled for his job so it was Aria and me 24/7 (even then) until the weekends. When we bought our home, it was in the town where my ex had worked before accepting a new job traveling. I used to commute to Des Moines to work so I didn't have an established friend base there. Conversely, I was used to having the instant community of the workplace and lost that being home. I was used to a busy meeting schedule and work that challenged my brain like taking the ACT every day. I wore dresses every day and had access to fancy coffee on a whim. Raising a little girl in a small(ish) town had challenges and many blessings, but was a lonely affair also.

Anyway, the gist is I was bored.  So during Aria’s afternoon nap time, I created an online company that combined many of my passions. Essentially, I brokered heirloom quality art geared toward children. Furniture, wall art, jewelry, lamps and other décor, lots of amazing art, all made in North America by artists who were living their passion. My business was called Briar Patch Heirlooms. I had about 200 artists on the site that I found at buyer’s markets, art festivals and other venues.

I got the idea for the company while strolling through the Des Moines Art Festival while pregnant. I saw this piece of art with a carousel, and snatched it up. I was thinking it is timeless. It could fit in my daughter’s nursery and transition to her home when she grew up. Then I thought about the surge in compressed wood and lifeless décor that is all made in China.

I wanted to show my daughter that people can choose careers that let them live their passion. I wanted her to understand art doesn't just hang in museums – it’s part of our daily lives. Our greatest currency is our creativity as a nation – I truly believe this. I wanted to engender a love of the arts in my little girl, and in others. And thus Briar Patch was born.

This is Aria’s room today with London Carousel above her bed. To check out Jean-Pierre Weill’s vitreographs, visit: Vitreography

Due to divorce, heading back to work, ongoing court woes (and the legal bills that have accompanied over 7 years in court), the economy shift at the time (which made expendable income a concept more than a spending practice), and a general lack of time, I closed my doors. It felt a bit like failure at the time. From my vantage point now, I’m more proud that I endeavored it than that it ended. I learned so much about being a small business owner. I know what I’d do differently. I know that I’d love to try it again in the future.

I also know that I was right to close the business at the time. There was so much going on in my world during and after my divorce. Moving and buying a new home. Transitioning visitation of Aria from every other weekend to ultimately have her 24/7 once again. Taking on a new role at my job. Dating a boy who I thought was a man somewhere in there. Finding just the right pre-school. You know. Living.

We all know what it feels like to be juggling too much. It’s hard to drop anything. We don’t want to disappoint anyone. We don’t want to fail. I had to let go of something. Some things we have to juggle – we have no choice. Other things are not necessary. The first thing I let go of, the easiest thing that wasn't a must, was Briar Patch. It doesn't take much to turn off a website. I wish the bills associated with it disappeared so easily.

As the years have passed, I have become more and more covetous of my time with my daughter. I realize how quickly time passes, and how rare moments can be. I have become a selective juggler. I no longer judge myself by the amount of things I can keep in the air, but by the quality of the things I hang onto.

There is nothing I treasure more than making memories. This song resounds because it’s so true. So much of our worlds are expendable. Replaceable. Not important. I have become laser focused on what matters. Her name is Aria.

John Butler Trio - Losing You