Slow Motion Race

Daddy

Sun, 20 Jun 2010 08:27:13 -0500

Thank you for being you.

Thanks for giving me my love of travel, my love of country, my love of sci-fi and my belief that anything is possible.

Thanks for my seafood cravings, my appreciation of freshly mowed lawns, peace and quiet, humility and the joy of telling a good story.

Thanks for these brown eyes and truly unconditional love.

Thanks for loving mom forever.

Thanks for growing, learning and teaching me that those things will never stop.

Thanks for being "Daddy" and for earning the right to be called that all the days of my life wether I am 3 or 33. I will always be your little girl.

I love you.

Smells Like Garlic to Me

Sat, 29 May 2010 11:34:47 -0500

I can cook. I can. It's just that I can't seem to cook while I have 2 kids tugging at my clothes (literally) to go play, get more juice or the ever popular "Look at this!". So sometimes I burn things. And sometimes I walk back to my recipe and don't know where I left off. It's a problem.

Most of the time, I am lacking all the ingredients that a recipe suggests. And that's not that big of deal to me because that's how I see most recipes - as suggestions. Unless it's active yeast or sugar - something like that falls into the category of a requirement. I mean, you can't make creamy pesto without cream, right? Wrong.

Everyone else is posting recipes! I'm on it! PENNE A LA PENNY!!!!

Open the fridge. Search desperately for vegetables.

Throw away the rotted ones. They don't taste great.

Cut up the ones that still look good and don't offend with the stank. Make 'em chunky. In my case I had broccoli, red peppers and onions. Zuchinni is a great staple at our house also.

Saute those veggies in a large skillet with some olive oil, salt and pepper and 3 peeled, crushed garlic cloves.

If you are using onions, throw those in last. Otherwise they get all slimey and over-cooked.

Now heat up a medium/smallish sauce pan and dump in about 1 tablespoon of olive oil and 2 tablespoons of pre-made pesto.

Have I mentioned that you should be boiling some penne on one of the other burners?

OK. Do you have anything creamy? Not that. Half n Half? Sour creme? Great. Get a big dollop of that and throw it in with the pesto along with some milk. I might have even added goat cheese to mine. Shhh!

This concoction will turn into pesto creme sauce. It will. I swear. Add Parmesan and salt to taste.

At this point, you should drain the pasta and add it to your big skillet. Then go make sure the kids are not using permanent markers on the sofa. If they look bored, give them Veggie Chips. You know they aren't going to eat anything but the penne anyway.

Mix the pesto sauce into your creation. Add more Parmesan. Put some on the plate with bagged salad and one of those salad toppers in a bag. (For you amateurs out there, RECYCLE the actual bags as they are not part of the meal.) Decorate with a sesame stick.

Ta da! It looks purty goooood!

If you have some wine, pour yourself a glass or two. Or a beer. Whatever.

Told ya I can cook. Maybe next time I'll reveal my roast recipe.

Muse

Fri, 02 Apr 2010 17:12:07 -0500

It has always bothered me that no one has ever written a song about me. Considering how many musicians I have known over the years, one would think I could be so lucky. Possibly, just maybe, I have inspired some songs. Or at least I know I was regularly present in certain people's lives when they were writing music. There's that.

I do have one CD filled with songs that were written during a tumultuous time in my life and those songs are written by the person who was most involved in my strife. That's code for "We were sleeping together." Unfortunately, those songs are without lyric. Or as I think of them - without a damn explanation.

Perhaps I defy words.

Or perhaps I was just not all that interesting to any of these people. That thought, of course, makes me slightly sad.

Back when I was writing songs myself, I was inspired by scores of people, mostly men, that I knew. There are pages. Files. Snippets of juicy snapshots filed on my computer.

Truth be known, I long to have a visual art show one day where I pair the lyrics of about 40 songs with 40 photographs or other mixed media to create a virtual trip down memory lane for myself. I'd invite those 40 people and say nothing more than "You inspired me." Then, I sit back and watch them attempt to piece it together.

It reminds me of a lovely song, which I didn't write.

This ain't about the things I've done

Where I've been or what I won

Stand on your corner a thousand time

Lose what I got keep what I find

It's about you

This ain't about the things you say

Or how you make me feel this way

Stand on your corner a thousand time

Lose what I got keep what I find

It's about you

I've also thought I could title the works according to the 1st memory I have of the relationship. For example:

The 2001 the Vanderbilt University Professor Who Cheated On Me

Candy Cane Tree

Spoke My Sentences Before I Did

Smelly Wallet

Do you ever wonder who all those love songs on iTunes are about? Do you question what's going on in "Happily Married" Sting's life when he writes of loneliness? Do you put your hands on the dash of your car and pray to God you can time travel for just a moment to that place when music filled all the gaps?

I think about this sometimes because what I miss most about my old life, the life where I hung around all those tortured musicians is the conversations. When I say I miss Entertainment, what I really mean is that I miss the kinds of personalities who pondered the things that I do. The people who are unashamed of their heartache and wear it like a badge. People who take dots on a page and mold them into something that blurs all the edges of a bad day. I miss people who aren't afraid of what anyone thinks, especially people who claim to love them.

My art show would make good conversations because it would turn the tables. I could once again wave away smoke from cigarettes, holding a drink in my right hand as if it is always there, like a favorite ring. I would make sure the lights were dim, the music just loud enough provoke closeness. And all my muses could smile politely... and wonder.

What I Have Learned

Sun, 28 Feb 2010 18:26:40 -0500

This is a repost from, I don't know, forever ago. But I thought it would make an interesting topic for this week.

WHAT HAVE YOU LEARNED?

I’ve learned that money means nothing to a person unless they have Time. At the end of every day Time is what people wish for. At the end of every life too. There was a line I heard once spoken by a character on ER who was dying. “Be generous with your time.” Time is what you give to people you love.

Expensive toilet paper is madness. I buy cheap toilet paper, cleaning products and towels. None of these things are important to me. But I also buy expensive groceries from a natural food store, expensive toothpaste and excellent moisturizer.

Marriage is harder than it looks. If you take everything you know about love before being married and multiply that information by 100, you are still dumb as a pet rock when it comes to love if you have not been married.

Intuition is underrated. If I could live my life over, I would follow my gut more.

I define great entertainment by the effect the flick, music, piece or performance has on me three years later. If I am thinking of it in three years, I will be thinking of it in ten years too; and I have likely incorporated it into my daily life. Ten years ago I saw a play called the Metaphor. My friend Craig had the staring role. Every time someone mentions the theater, I think of his performance and I wish I could see it again.

I believe in cause and effect. But I do not believe life is fair on any individual scale. When I do good, I create a ripple, but it would be silly to believe my ripple will come back to me, or that if it does, I will recognize it.

America is not a melting pot. It is a lovely stew. Every person adds flavor. But when you bite into a tomato, you know it’s a tomato. When you meet an Italian, you know he’s Italian. Why people would want to shed their culture is beyond me.

My best assets in business have always been three things:

honesty, subtlety, and the knowledge that great success usually involves great risk.

The best places to have conversations are tents on summer nights with crickets in the background, small coffee shops on Sunday mornings and the floor of a stage between sound-check and dinner.

Out of every quality to expect, search for and hope for in a friend, lover or family member, Integrity should always be at the top of the list.

Alcohol is a stupid man’s hobby.

You can tell a lot about a person by the way they drink their coffee.

Forever Friends Part II

Sun, 28 Feb 2010 16:28:25 -0500

So, after having plenty of time to contemplate the subject of my last Video Blog, (Thanks Hives! Thanks Stomach Virus!) I decided to respond via the regular ol' blog. Again - Hives. Did I mention hives? I'm not talking about the music group either. I'm talking about a weirdness of problems that I have come to refer to as My Body Attacking Itself. Full doctor's report soon. I know you are looking forward to it.

Meanwhile...

I think that my desire to "be there" for past boyfriends or *gulp* exes comes from unresolved anger caused by loved ones who have broken that promise to me. Yes, I just said that. God help us, we could all go to therapy for the various times in which we have been let down. That's not to say that I haven't broken this promise. I have. And even though I'm forgiven, the regret lingers.

I do feel required to answer the call should someone from my past be in need of help that I can give. Would I do it if it in an any way conflicted with the needs of my husband and kids? Um, no. But it's that same part of me that cannot turn down a beggar when he asks for my spare change. If I have it, I feel compelled to give.

I'm a big fan of nostalgia, so that's part of it too. I enjoy recalling years past of school mischief. I am especially fascinated with the way people change. So, having lifelong friends is almost hobbyish. And, as I said, I just don't want to break promises.

Of course, like @Suki Allison said, there are those who don't want my help. Hell, they don't even want my friendship on Facebook. My friend @Heather Lawrence said that some people just want to leave the past in the past. I didn't really understand that until this week when I received a Friend Request from someone who was part of a chapter in my life I'd rather forget. Then of course, it made me wonder if I have been THAT kind of person. The Person Someone Wants To Forget. Ugh. The possibility makes me slightly dizzy.

My, the vanity of me. I want to be liked.

Still, I like to think that the reason I am so bothered by the unkept promises of those who said they would always be there for me lies in the simple fact that I truly like the people I have said it to myself. I believe my words when I say them and even when circumstance changes, as it inevitably does, I want to be a shoulder to lean on, a person that is called upon for advice or a good laugh. I fancy myself being a "rock" in a world of uncertainty. Though I am certainly not the person I want to be for everyone who has crossed my path, I appreciate those of you who know you can call on me anytime. And I appreciate more, those of you who let our friendship evolve over the years enough to test that term Friends Forever and know that it's true to the best of my ability.

Because Humiliation Brings Us Together

Mon, 08 Feb 2010 18:33:07 -0500

I cannot even believe I am going through with this but I figure it's not going to get any better. If you are absolutely bored out of your mind - or if you just want to make yourself feel better about whatever videos YOU might be featured in - (Not naming names, SHELLEY...KELLIE) you may watch this.

Otherwise, please amuse yourself in other ways.

Cast Away

Sat, 06 Feb 2010 12:45:13 -0500

Quite a few years back when I was working at Crowe & Dunlevy in OKC, I discovered a sweet place where I could rest. It was down in the parking garage. I noticed it when I was getting into my car late one night after a long day. Most of the other cars were gone. I got behind the steering wheel and closed my door, letting out a heavy sigh of exhaustion. I closed my eyes, thinking of all the chaos, the stress and frustration that surrounded me. Then I noticed something strange. Silence. It was completely silent in that moment as if I were in a sound proof bubble. I remember the feeling of surprise and then curiosity. I never realized how much I needed that silence. I sat there for probably ten minutes, soaking up that precious aloneness before I reluctantly started my car and drove home. It became a habit after that. I looked forward to getting to my car in the garage and closing out the rest of the world. Once, I even ate lunch there, watching people come and go, sunk down in my seat, feeling like every bite I took of my apple was SO LOUD.

I never missed that job after I left but I think about the parking garage often, especially these days when peace and true silence are nowhere to be found. Even today when we are said to be "snowed in" outside my window is the constant scream of snowblowers and revving cars.

Because, well, it's that time of year again. It's that time when all the things I don't like about NJ come together to form days that seem longer and harder for me to complete. It's time for me to daydream about warmer climate, cheaper groceries and a lower mortgage. It's time for missing family and friends, familiarity and ease. It's time for NJ people to be personally insulted for my wishing for something else. Time for religious friends to say they will pray for me and that God will not give me more than I can handle. Time for suggestions of a vacation which I cannot afford or a good book which I do not have time to read. It's tradition, or habit, I'm not sure. But I do know it will pass, at least in intensity, by May.

Until then I want to take this opportunity to say that
1. Moving to NJ was the worst financial decision I have ever made.
2. Just because I am not content in my present situation doesn't mean I'm an ungrateful chump.
3. To my old boss who said I could totally be like Tom Hanks character in Castaway - You were right. But apparently I can't last as long as he did.

Mane Problem

Tue, 02 Feb 2010 14:13:11 -0500

Get it? Mane problem, as in hair? I kill me.

I am not the most stylish chick on the block. My mother always says I have a classic look, which is what she should say because she is my mother. Classic worked for a while but the older I get, the more it feels boring and drab. I long to be one of those people with a really hip style that is daring and smart. I long to wear the boyfriend jeans and still look so utterly feminine and sexy that my husband comes home from work early every Friday if you know what I mean.

I've never believed that a label matters at all when it comes to style. I've also never believed that In Style Magazine or the latest runway trend should be used for anything but a good laugh. All of this is good, because most of those products are for the stupid and rich.

On the other hand... what I wouldn't give for someone who knows what they are doing to make-over my hair. I hate my hair. I've had a few cuts over the last 5 years that looked good for, you know, a day or so. Then it's as if my hair remembers itself and goes all curly and BLAH. It just throws up all over me and my ten dollar t-shirts. Inevitably, I see pictures of myself within a week of a new do and think "Dear God. I will NEVER cut my hair again!!". It's buyers remorse without the return policy.

Here is where you tell me the different hair styles that you liked on me and I wonder why I don't like them. Thank you.

And now here is where I show you several different possibilities for my hair, we chose one together and 3 weeks after I have it done I complain some more. It's tradition.

Thoughts??? HELP ME!!!

Dangerous Bird

Wed, 27 Jan 2010 10:21:56 -0500

Some of you may remember these lovely Italian chairs that I recovered last summer for my kitchen.

They turned out rather nice and I have received enough compliments on them to justify the cost and the sticky spray paint feeling that remained on my hands for days after. Unfortunately, the chairs should have come with a warning label that read : Children will break their kneecaps when this chair tips over from the slightest lean.

August has already fallen twice from sitting in one of the chairs backwards. Another time I think she merely tilted her head at an angle and the chair tipped over with her in it. The whole chair and child come crashing down. Sadness everywhere. Most recently she came crashing down on a ceramic plate that was full of paint. We had been painting on the kitchen floor and the back of the chair broke the plate into many, many pieces.

I'm not sure why this needs to be told to the blog-world except that now we are in need of very cheap, very sturdy, stylish chairs. I'm not sure IKEA is the answer since our previous chairs (also unstable) were from there, but I'm willing to listen.

Honey Doh List

Tue, 19 Jan 2010 10:01:24 -0500

This is me this morning holding part of a scrap-booking kit my sister sent me. It's called 365 and the idea is - you guessed it - to take a photo a day for the entire year of 2010. The designer kit is supposed to take the guesswork out of the process. But, me, I like to take simple things and make them complicated. So, there I was Sunday making Mike use his professional designer eyes to put the cards in their slots.

The scrapbook is just one of many projects I'm taking on this year. I figure I am bound to finish two out of the dozen or so I have mulling around in my head. In my "spare" time I plan to rebuild the US economy. Hey, why not?

How To Build Community

Mon, 18 Jan 2010 17:48:09 -0500

My mother sent this card to me a while back with that title. This is what it said:

Turn off your TV.

Leave your house. Know your neighbors. Greet people.

Look up when you are walking. Sit on your stoop.

Plant flowers. Use your library.

Play together.

Buy from local merchants. Share what you have.

Help a lost dog. Take children to the park.

Garden together.

Support neighborhood schools.

Fix it even if you didn't break it.

Have pot lucks.

Honor elders. Pick up litter.

Read storeis aloud.

Dance in the street.

Talk to the mail carrier.

Listen to the birds. Put up a swing.

Help carry something heavy.

Barter for your goods.

Start a tradition. Ask a question.

Hire young people for odd jobs.

Organize a block party.

Bake extra and share. Ask for help when you need it.

Open your shades. Sing together. Share your skills. Take back the night.

Turn up the music. Turn down the music.

Listen before you react to anger.

Mediate a conflict.

Seek to understand.

Learn from new and uncomfortable angles.

Know that no one is silent athough many are not heard.

Work to change this.

Ahh, Another Clean Slate

Mon, 04 Jan 2010 12:32:09 -0500

Every year I make a list of New Years Resolutions. Every year. Except this one.

What can I say? I'm not feeling that whole "fresh start" minty anticipation. While I see that many good things are going to happen in 2010, I am painfully aware that many of us are still digging out of our holes from 2009 - literally. Not that getting out of these holes won't be miraculous in itself, mind you. But it's a process, isn't it? A long, graceless process at times.

What I feel about 2010 is this: Still me, better shoes.

This morning I was holding Asher as he slept and I whispered "Not too fast. Take your time" because I'm nervous his childhood and August's are going by too fast for my taste. I often find myself so caught up in the daily details that when I stop to look at my kids they have changed from the last break we had. August is sassy and Asher is quite opinionated. When did that happen? Mike will turn 30 this year. Holy hell, somebody slow this thing down!

In my life, something has shifted. It's a good thing. "One life is all we have and we live it as we believe in living it, and then it's done." says Joan of Arc. Moral of the story: Slow down. S L O W D O W N. Enjoy this. Enjoy the snow.; it won't last. Enjoy the house - it's home. Enjoy your kids -they will grow up.

So, I guess if that's a resolution, I'll take it. Be present. Relax. Enjoy.

I hope the same for you.

One year ago:

And now:

Sometimes

Sat, 02 Jan 2010 11:17:30 -0500

Because 2010 can be better. xoxo PRJ

Sometimes by Sheenagh Pugh

Sometimes things don't go, after all,
from bad to worse. Some years, muscadel
faces down frost; green thrives; the crops don’t fail,
sometimes a man aims high, and all goes well.

A people sometimes will step back from war;
elect an honest man; decide they care
enough, that they can't leave some stranger poor.
Some men become what they were born for.

Sometimes our best efforts do not go
amiss; sometimes we do as we meant to.
The sun will sometimes melt a field of sorrow
that seemed hard frozen: may it happen for you.

Louder Than Bombs

Mon, 21 Dec 2009 11:03:10 -0500

So, I have one hour to type this. To unload from the depth of my soul. It makes me want to throw something.

Yesterday I had to submit a video about myself and my photography to Me Rah Ko in hopes of winning one of the three amazing SOAR Scholarships. I'm a little ashamed that I haven't mentioned this contest before now. I think I was trying to protect myself from whatever negative thoughts might run through my mind about my photography skills or my worthiness of being granted a scholarship. In the negativity department, we are quite busy these days.

My sister, Alice, is the one who told me about the scholarship and I nearly did not apply because I kept thinking about how much she deserves it more than I. Her story is so much more compelling and frankly, she is more of an amazing person in general having a total of four kids, graduated from college, and spent countless months as a single mom while her husband serves in the military. Presently, he is in Afghanistan. She is the one who always sent out holiday cards, told me what a jerk I was being to our mother when we were teenagers and became the kind of mother who bakes muffins for her Sunday school class. She's also a mentor to teenage girls. Did I mention her youngest child is a toddler? As I said - amazing. Can I say that I am more deserving of the prizes and education that SOAR is offering? No.

When I started making the video, I hated it. Just to look at myself on screen was humbling. Thus my post about needing a new hair style. Then there was the fact that the video could only be two minutes. Sell myself in two minutes? Dude, I'm not even sure any blog I've written could be read aloud in two minutes, let alone show photos and give a brief summary of who I am.

Interestingly enough, after the 30th take, I started to feel pretty annoyed. Imagine that. I wanted to look at the camera and say, "I'm just like everybody else. I'm a stay at home mom who walks the tightrope between sainthood and institutionalization. Some days, I am very witty. Other days, not so much. These are my photos. I see potential for greatness there, but I need help. I hope this is the time and the way that I finally get to be my creative self and earn enough money doing it. Because, the fact is, unless I make some money doing this, it will be hard to convince everyone around me that it's worth them helping me out with my kids so I can pursue it. Thank you."

That's just sad. I truly feel that the only way I will ever be taken seriously in my creative efforts is if someone pays me to do it. I'm not sure that's how I feel art should be. And that is what I consider myself to be. That was another surprise I saw while entering this contest. I AM an artist. It's all there in me and it always has been. But I have been so afraid of walking that path because it is not practical. When you are sensitive to instability like I am and you surround yourself with creative people your whole life, it can be automatic to play the supportive role. How many artists did I date? How many live shows? How much energy was spent being "level" in my world of movers and shakers?

When my husband, Nick and I divorced in 1999, he started painting. He was already a very creative person. A world traveler who loved music with every cell of his being, he had only done notebook drawings before as far as I know. But I visited him at his new place and saw it littered with paints and canvases. Even his very first pieces moved me. After the divorce was final he continued painting. Years later when I attended a showing of his work, I remember thinking; If nothing else, one good thing came of our heartbreak - this. It propelled him into his art. In truth, I envied him. From then on, I wondered what would force me to come out of my shell?

I have a mile long list of reasons I do not fully pursue my art. If I thought it was hard ten years ago, it seems nearly impossible now. But I know that I am not alone in this feeling. This feeling of having "everything", yet nothing.

It's totally shitty the situation most mothers are placed in these days. In my opinion, we really screwed ourselves when everyone moved to the suburbs and the village effort toward raising a family became a thing of the past. Older generations want their fun time and we want our houses to ourselves. I can't understand why we couldn't have both. I don't want to send my kids to daycare. I have trust issues! I want my mom or my mother-in-law or my sister to be the one who has the honor of being with my kids during my sanity breaks. I want family dinner around the table. I want to spend time with my husband without feeling like someone is doing me a huge favor by hanging out with my children. I want to stop thinking of an uninterrupted meal/shower/minute as a luxury. I want to stop feeling guilty that I cannot handle 12 hours a day, five days a week with no breaks of my job as a stay at home mom.

Can you imagine if you worked 12 hours each day Monday thru Friday for, say Target, and every other week someone said, "Maybe I can give you a couple hours on Sunday to have some time alone." And during that time alone you cleaned your work area and tried to feed your creative spirit by listening to music while you took a much needed shower?

It doesn't matter how we got here moms and dads. What matters is how we are going to fix this problem. We equip the breadwinner of the family - usually the husband- with all he needs to do his job. Money for commuting, lunch out, good clothes, coffee breaks, time to surf the net for inspiration or research, dinner when he gets home. But the person who is doing this all confessed "Most important job of raising the kids" barely has time to get dressed in the morning. It's not right.

I know that some people reading this might think that I am trashing my husband here. But I'm not. I'm trashing us both for not planning this out better. I'm trashing anyone that knows us who thinks that we are okay with this situation and anyone who thinks I'm "lucky" when I hire a babysitter to come to my house next week for three hours.

I deserve something like the SOAR scholarship if only for the simple fact that I want to use my skills and the money I earn to make life a little easier for the women around me who are in the same boat. Our children deserve whole, calm, happy people around them so we can teach them to break this cycle in their generation.

Right on cue, Asher has woke from his nap. I'll post the video submission and out-takes as soon as I can.

xoxoo

Tue, 15 Dec 2009 08:59:04 -0500

A very long time ago I interviewed Ian Moore for LiveNashvilleMusic.com. That night he performed live at the Blue Door in Oklahoma City and dedicated a song to me that he said was about his mother who had passed away. He said I reminded him of her. I was so taken back by the compliment that I have since struggled to
remember what the song was, but cannot. After seeing this video, I am wondering if this might be it.