Raw

Words come hard when  you lose someone you cared about.  But I feel like they need to be said, or written.  Scott was one of the most genuine people I have ever met and also one of the most intense.  He was like a roller coaster, thrilling and scary and raw.  He died this week after a year long battle with cancer.  Sad.  But as he wrote to me once, "So long as your memories of me live so do I."

Scott was a music lover.  He loved all types of music and felt it in his soul.  To this day I've never seen someone get lost in the music like he did. I'll never forget the day we were riding in the car and heard on the radio that John Lennon had been shot.   He was heartbroken.  He felt it.  Music would never be the same and he knew it.  He was depressed for weeks.  Genuinely depressed.  That's what I mean about real.

He was a writer too, though he came late to it.  When he wrote from the heart that raw intensity of his came through.  I was lucky enough to read his writing over the last few years.  He brought tears to my eyes sometimes.  "I wonder when I die will I become a dream?"

Scott's roller coaster ride was one I couldn't take with him.  He and I broke up thirty years ago.  We both knew it wasn't going to work.  That doesn't diminish what we shared.  It also doesn't make our lives after each other any less meaningful.  He had an impact on who I am today and I can't change that.  Wouldn't want to.  When I have to steel myself to say what needs to be said to someone, no matter how hard, it's Scott behind me. He never cared what anybody thought..... anybody.  When I hear certain songs I hear him singing them, even today.

I wish him well on the journey he travels today.  I'm sure he's telling somebody what's what with a spark in his eye and with a heartfelt passion that is so real it's a wonder to behold.

Heedless of the Wind & Weather

Today I drove by the spot where I lived when my first child was born.  It was back in 1986.  So long ago I have a hard time remembering much from back then.  I do remember that the love for my new baby girl was immediate and complete.  I gazed upon that sweet little monkey face and hoped she would have a happy life.  I still do, every day.  She is a strong young woman who makes me proud.  She'll have her ups and her downs but she can get through most anything.

You never know how things are going to turn out.  You start down a path that you think could only lead to one place, then boom, you find yourself in a completely different spot.  Sometimes it's your own doing, sometimes not, but either way it can be a shock.  It's life though, isn't it?  Moving forward, adjusting, adapting, doing the best you can.  All while you have the time.  Because as we see every day, our time is finite.

Hug the people you love while you can and then eat, drink, and be merry.  Fortunately, tis the season for it.  

Artist

I had a conversation with my husband recently about music.  He and I like the same stuff for the most part.  He gets into the blues a little more than me.... I like it but it doesn't move me as much as Motown, for instance.  I was saying to him that there are just some artists that you can feel their heart and soul in the music.
They do it because they have to do it, not because of the latest deal they made.   The Stones, Beatles, Bowie, were my examples.  Then Bob Seger entered the debate.  Now, I have nothing against Seger.  He's good.  But I wouldn't put him in the same category as the three I just mentioned.   At some point he just started cranking them out.

The conversation came up after we had recently gone to Pine Knob to see the Winter brothers.  When you see Edgar Winter perform Frankenstein on stage you are watching someone who lives the music they play.  It was like watching a virtuoso.  He lived that performance.  Opening for him was Rick Derringer of Rock and Roll Hoochie Koo fame.  Rick also did Hang on Sloopy.  Both respectable songs.... but I'm telling you it just wasn't the same compared to what Edgar did on stage.

Realize the Dream

Ambition should be made of sterner stuff. ~ William Shakespeare

I always have such grand plans.  It all works out beautifully in my head beforehand.  It's during the execution phase that things all start to fall to pieces.   As evidence I present the quilt I started working on 12 years ago.  It's nearly finished.  All I have to do is actually quilt the top part to a bottom part with some stuffing stuff in the center.  But the joining of the quilt pieces is a little sloppy so I lost my enthusiasm.  It doesn't match the beautiful quilt I had in my head.  So there my quilt sits in a corner of my craft room in a bag.

My craft room.  A whole room dedicated to the wondrous accomplishments I could achieve if only I would put my mind to it.   I have materials for scrapbooking, jewelry making, crocheting, magnet making and cross stitching.   Not to mention odds and ends I picked up with no purpose in mind other than some wonderfully crafty thing I could use them for with a little imagination. That room contains so many projects patiently waiting for me to come finish them.  Sad to say, most of them wait in vain.

In the days before the internet I could multi-task.  I'd crochet or cross stitch while watching TV.  Since the internet came along to feed my endlessly wandering mind I don't finish nearly as many things as I used to.

We have been asked to go to the annual Renaissance Festival with some good friends.  We went with them a few years ago.  They go all out and dress up.  They have costumes that they have slowly been adding to over the years.  It's awesome.  I've talked about getting a costume for the Renaissance Festival for years.  This year we're doing it.

Jim and I are going to be Vikings.  But not dime store Vikings with plastic horned helmets. If we're doing this we're doing it right.  I want to be as authentic as possible.  I discovered that Viking women wore apron dresses.  While researching this I came across several "easy" do-it-yourself" patterns for this dress.  You see where this is going don't you?   I decided to make my own dress, complete with the under kirtle.

I'm ashamed to admit that this blog post is being used as a stalling tactic.  Right now I'm in the sweet spot on this project.  I have the plan. I have the materials. I'm ready to begin.  In my head it's all still going to work out beautifully.  But the minute I start to put it all together, poof, the dream is gone.  I just hope the dress ends up being wearable.

Things to do.

I'm not a napper.  Not a regular one anyway.  My disdain for napping started when I was a child.   I was forced to nap, like every kid.  As I lay on my bed, wide awake, I felt powerless.  My parents controlled every aspect of my life, even my consciousness.  Don't they understand that I don't want to nap?   I'm not tired.  Finally, sleep would come and the next thing I knew my mother was shaking me awake saying "Get out of bed."  Really?  It was like some sort of sadistic game they played.  Go to sleep, wake up, go to sleep, wake up.  Alright already, I'm up!   What am I?  Your puppet?

Once I got older I took matters into my own hands.  Napping became an accidental affair.  If I happened to fall asleep while reading or watching TV, so be it.  It was rarely intentional.  Not only do I feel like I'm missing out on things while sleeping the day away, I just generally feel like crap after a nap.  My brain is foggy and I have no energy.    It ruins the rest of the day for me.

I realize I'm in the minority.  People love naps.  Some people say the word nap as though they were talking about orgasms. " I love naps."  "I couldn't live without my naps."   There are people I know who treat naps as ritual affairs. My mother did.  She took one every day.  Draw the drapes, shut the doors and everybody be quiet.  This felt like control to me too.  Shhhh, be quiet, I'm sleeping.  The world of the waking must stand still while I am napping.

Now that I'm not so young anymore my body is betraying me. Once again bowing to forces beyond my control.  I can no longer resist taking a nap here and there.  I don't like it but my body demands it.  Curse you naps.  Don't you know I have things to do?

Reason to Be Proud

There's a myth on the Lauchstaedt side of the family that mothers favor their sons above their daughters.  For at least the last four generations in my lifetime it seems to be true.  My great grandmother adored her son I am told and tolerated her daughter (my grandmother).  In turn my grandmother worshiped the ground that my Uncle Dieter walked upon.  The tradition passed on down to my aunts on that side of the family with all of their sons being placed on a pedestal.  I think it's less true of my generation but the propensity leads me to be careful about how much praise I heap upon my son.  Not to mention the fact that his sister, for reasons of her own, believes I was easier on him.


I confess my guilt on this last count.  I always saw my daughter as an extension of me.  There wasn't a lot of mystery with her, I usually knew where she was coming from.  I was once a girl, a teen and a young woman too.  I had felt the same feelings, had the same fears.  I spent most my time trying to help her avoid the mistakes I had made growing up.  But my son was always a complete and utter mystery to me.  Most of my time with him was spent trying to crack the code and figure him out.   Add to that the fact that I had to counteract his father being tougher on him than on our daughter and it ended up being a completely different mothering experience.   But they know that I love them both dearly and would do anything in the world for them.

All that seems like a long way to go just to share a video of my son's band but, like I said, I'm sensitive about over praising.  My son Wade has a great big heart, a good sense of humor and a healthy appreciation for a good practical joke.  I didn't realize he was a performer though until I saw him in a grade school show doing a dead-on impersonation of Michael Jackson, complete with the moonwalking.  I remember being impressed by not only his performance but also how at ease he seemed to be on stage.  Through the rest of his schooling he seemed to have an eye for art as well.  My husband, the vigilant one, made sure he took guitar lessons as he was growing up.  The guitar teacher said more than once that Wade had a knack for it.  I was certainly proud but tried to not get too over excited about it.  After all, if he were a prodigy we certainly would have known.

About a year ago Wade and some of his buddies started a band.  They practiced for the first few months in his girlfriend's barn.  As winter set in though it got to be too cold so he asked if they could practice in the basement.  Sure, why not.  The first thing I noticed is they sounded really good.  Then I realized I didn't recognize any of the songs.  I asked Wade about it and he said that was because he wrote them.  I flashed back to his Michael Jackson skit. Really?  You wrote that stuff.  Where did you get that talent?  They've been practicing here for several months and they have improved a lot.  The video clip below is three songs they played at an open mic night at the Tap Room in Ypsi.  Wade is up front and center playing guitar.  The enthusiastic fan is his girlfriend.  My favorite is the third song.  Am I gushing too much?

GFBT2012

Final countdown to the big trip.  We've been counting down since last September and finally it's upon us.  Together with our good friends/Vegas travel companions/wine buddies we booked something we call the GFBT-2012.  GFBT = Going for Broke Tour, so dubbed because it is a six day trip where we will compete to see if we spend more money on wine during our three days in Napa California or on gambling during our three days in Las Vegas.   It was a stroke of genius calling it the GFBT.  It's offered instant guidance on many key decisions 1) which car to rent, 2) which room at the Mirage to book,  3) drive from winery to winery or book a car and driver, 4) which restaurants to eat at.  Duh..... going for broke. 

This past weekend the four of us got together and over dinner and some nice wine, planned the details we don't want to leave to chance, (restaurants, wineries to visit).  The remnants are shown above.  I know it looks like a lot of wine but I'd like to add some perspective.  You should keep in mind that one bottle of wine is like drinking one and a half bottles of pop (750ml) and wine's better for you than pop. Plus it was a really long evening. Not the longest wine night but the wine to time ratio was within reason.

This trip couldn't come at a better time for me.  Going through some really tough stuff in the mother department, being one.... not having one (though with nods to my kids and apologies to my mother, I admit both can be challenging).