Good bye 2011.

I have had a fantastic couple weeks. I feel as though we are saying good bye to 2011 the right way. We are together, at home and just enjoying our lives. It isn't always easy to do that, especially this time of year. Everyone is running around, spending too much money and just stressing out.

Not us, not this year.

I am so thankful for that, I am thankful for the people I know, my friends and family.

Today Eddie and I are heading out of town, driving to Portland for his NYE show. I am leaving the baby for the first time- I am a little anxious about it but I am excited too. It is good for both of us. All of us really, I am a firm believer of taking time for your spouse, I mean without that relationship, I would have nothing. I try to always remember that. If I wasn't insanely in love with my husband, I would not be a good mother. He is a very important part of my tone on life.

So we are excited, he just came up here and said "that doesn't look like packing"- I am suppose to be getting ready to go. We are trying to leave in an hour and a half. So I should do that, although squeezing this ever growing bump in a tight dress is getting harder and harder but I bought one special for tonight- if it doesn't fit, I am going to go naked.

Happy New Year everyone. Be good. Be safe. Time to pack.

.67 cents Pt 2

Our school raised something like $1070 for this incredibly amazing cause.

I donated $20 after my son informed me that it would feed about 29 families.

I could spend $20 on 4 coffees from Starbucks or feed 29 families.

Probably the best $20 I have ever spent. Seriously.

What a difference a decade makes.

A friend of mine was asking if I felt bad that my sons childhood was so different from my daughters. At first I was a little confused, was it different?

They explained how when my son was young, we spent most of our time on tour. Traveling the globe, sitting on planes, buses or the good ol' econoline. My son sat on the stage for Farm Aid more than once, he rode a scooter across the stage while Pearl Jam was sound checking...

I was brought back to that time, with fondness, I mean- it was radical! But it is all still there. That is still in our life, although we don't consume ourselves with it. Being older maybe the factor. I know that I want more out of my life than my husbands dreams- I mean, he too wants more out of his life of music, that is why he now has a family. But the thing for me is, I guess I am more comfortable with where my life is headed. I am a homemaker, I do this. I am here and there. I can pack a lunch or a bag for Paris. I will, I do, I have.

What got me about this conversation was the fact that the feeling of "jipping" my daughter was out there. Like her childhood would not be as what? rock n' roll? Maybe not. To me that is not a bad thing. But I don't think so really. Less so, but not non existent. 

What I do appreciate about this point in my life, other than the slower speed, the less travel (although 6 weeks in Europe doesn't exactly make me feel like we travel less... maybe less often and for longer?...) are the things I don't miss.

See with my son, we were all over the place. We were running around, moving, touring like crazy- it was what was fun then but I do feel I missed some things. Maybe while I was packing up the cab, I missed my sons first- oh whatever. I don't know, but it could have happened. 

Anyway, to get to the point... what I thought of- the past raising of child vs the now. When we were in Mexico last summer, we walked out of the resort we were at to go out to the beach and it was a corridor type thing and when we turned the corner the wind hit us all, it was warm and fantastic and I looked at my daughter and I got to see her face. Her eyes and mouth wide open- I got to see her discover wind. 

I'll trade rock n' roll for that any day but you know what? I don't think I have to.

The no birthday party, party.

With all of this talk about Christmas, I am always amazed by how quickly my sons birthday pops up. It is not as if I don't think of it all year, or again at Thanksgiving or while we are getting our Christmas tree. But suddenly, it's time! 

He will be 11 in less that 2 weeks. 

After last years 10 year extravaganza (we had a full rock show birthday bash at the beloved Sunset Tavern here in Ballard. It was amazing, I worked my ass off) and my daughters 1st birthday which was an equally impressive butterfly themed girl party... I told my husband I had to take a year off. I told everyone we had to have at least one year with no parties. I love them and I will keep doing them but September and December are close together. With Halloween in the middle and not to mention the holidays... I just knew my goose was cooked. I had family in town for Elvis' 1st, my husband wasn't even here, he was in South America (skyped during the party). My Mom was staying at our house and his Mom and boyfriend were in town for the week... it was epic and awesome and I nearly cracked. Having him gone is something I do, I get it but our fall/winter is some kind of busy. Has always been that way and it will always be that way but I had to call off the birthday parties for 2011.

And so far I have been successful. I am not anti calling off the "call off". I am okay with saying something and then doing another- this is my life, so I feel like I have that right. But when you get kids in the mix, I don't know, it's like I have to start thinking like a grown up or something and really the bottom line for me is I always feel like I am trying to raise, not kids, but grown ups. I am trying to raise a man and now a woman. That is my current order of business.

So when I make a decision that involves my kids directly, I feel it is my duty to stick to it. Again, this is not in my nature, I'm a waffler of sorts, I like options but with kids, I just get the feeling the less "waffly" I am, the better. I want them to know how to make decisions and see stuff through. It's a little ironic I am learning it all at the same time but that's cool too. See- easy, peasy!

When Elvis' 2nd birthday came along, I have to admit, it was hard to not throw a party. Even a small one. Instead I stuck to my guns, made a cake and called a friend and her kids and invited them to walk down the park that overlooks the sound and have a piece of cake with us. No presents, no party favors. Just us, the beautiful sunset and a fantastic cake. It was a very special birthday and I think that is part of it. When you cut out all the crap, you get to actually see your child on their birthday. I got to watch my kid turn 2. It was magic.

Now for some reason this birthday for my son is different. I am finding it VERY hard to keep it so basic. I just don't think I can. So does that make me rotten? Am I showing him the opposite of what I'd like? Maybe.

We are going to take him and some friends to the movies, he really wants to see "Tin Tin" and then we are going to walk down to the Sunset and have pizza. It's a little more than a park and a cake, but for him, with 10 years of fabulous birthdays under his belt- this will be the no birthday party, party.

My Mom said when my sister and I were young, we got a 5th year party and then another one at like 10 or 12. Which was fine, I am sure we loved it and they were fabulous but I am different. I can't help but give him something special, he gives me something special every day/week/month because he is so good. He is a fantastic child. He works hard, he is smart, he is funny and he really loves life. I can't help but celebrate that.

Christmas presents. To give or not to give. That is the MFing question.

Every year I promise to not spend a fortune. I tell myself that it isn't important that I get my Mother something amazing, or my son everything on his list, but it does seem as though... I just might forget about all of that and then I am starring down the end of a very long list of things I have purchased.

Not this year.

I am sick of over indulging my children, who have everything. We don't have one of those houses with 14 bins of legos and we don't have 17 dolls or 250 Littlest Pet Shop animals but we are fortunate. I like to get rid of stuff, like toys that are never used and stuffed animals, in general (because they are disgusting) but the kids have stuff. They need for not.

I understand it is Christmas and the "rule" is, it's time to get presents. I don't care where it all came from. I do not go to church, I do not teach my children the religious side of the holidays, at all. I think it is all made up (like religion in general) and we just go with it.

But when and how do you draw the line? I'm perplexed. 

I remember when I was 8 years old, my Mother told me it was the last year Santa would come visit us. There was an adult argument going on at the time, but I remember it like it was yesterday. This will not happen in my house. Santa will come here until I am dead. I am fucking Santa!

One year I bought my son so many presents, when I was putting them all under the tree, I actually put some back into my closet. I was smothering him. Even though he would have loved it, I had to restrain. I couldn't drown him in gifts, I just couldn't. It was not borderline ridiculous, it was fucking insane.

Since my daughter has come along it has been, ahem, easier to draw the line. There are two kids- there are two stockings... you get the idea. I am not living out of my car but I do shop for things on sale. I have to be careful and even more so with a third on the way.

Say your child wants a few things and then one super expensive gift... what do you do?

One year he wanted a bike and a drum kit. We thought that sounded easy enough. So after Eddie's Mom spent $300 on the bike (Electra!) we dropped around $500 for the drum set. Well, I didn't but Eddie did. He handled the "deal" and when I heard how much it was, I was shocked, I immediately wanted nothing for Christmas. $500! Insanity.

This year it's a Flying V. They aren't much cheaper. My fear is it will get played about as much as the drum kit that has taken up the better part of my basement for the last 6 years. The kid plays guitar but I think a Flying V is... ridiculous. There, I said it. I think he should get an acoustic, seems more simple and can take him farther. He is a song writer, who sits around writing songs on a Flying V?? But I am not the music part of this operation, so like Eddie and the kitchen (and the laundry) I stay out of it. For better or for worse- even though I am right, I've gotta let him be Santa too.

Oh Christmas tree

Yesterday we set out to get out tree.  It was about damn time.

We had actually planned on getting it when Eddie was with us, but with our delightful holiday traffic, we were a day behind and just did not make it work. Somehow putting our pajamas on and watching a movie seemed like it made more sense, and it did. It always does, but then I get left holding the tree... er, um bag or whatever that saying is.

There are a lot of things that families do that we do minus Eddie. This is part of the deal. It bothers me on the very bottom tier of things, I mean, it sucks not having my husband there at the tree lot, or the first day of school. It's hard to go to friends dinner and birthday parties alone- but this is your life Charlie Brown!! I'm into it. I do difficult. That's just what suits me, it's the straw I chose. I'm not complaining. I am just spreading the word to all the sons and daughters out there. Rock n roll is (when it's your real life) more complex than you'd think.

So with my boeuf bourguignon in the oven, one toddler in the stroller, one dog on a leash and my son by my side, we set out to get that tree. 

You may be wondering why we are walking a dog and pushing a stroller if we are in fact going to get a Christmas tree. No we don't get it delivered, we walk that sucker back to our house.

It was freezing outside and somehow perfect. It wasn't raining and in Seattle, you consider yourself lucky when it's not. I would have appreciated some snow though.

Our tree lot is pretty close, it's about 7 blocks away, we have gone there for 10 years now. I can't imagine getting our tree elsewhere, it's like our thing. We shop for produce there year round and the trees are fantastic. Although we do things a little differently. We don't go for the the huge, full beautiful tree. We do the opposite. Quattro's idea. He wants the tree that most likely will not sell and every year we get just that. This year was no exception, our tree has two tops, the base is split in the middle and comes up with two arms- it is the horned hand. Sold!

It's all in the name.

I have always loved naming my pets, making up new names for myself, stuff like that. When I was young, we moved a lot, so when we got to a new place, sometimes I would introduce myself as someone I was not... My name is not super special, although my middle name is more me, Summer.

Anyway, I guess, as an adult, when naming my kids I just took the gloves off. We got a LOT of flack from nameless folk about our daughters name, which oddly enough didn't bother me. There was one person that offended me personally and we are related so it was not a deal breaker. 

In all honesty, it did bother me and although I am way past it, I will not be sharing the name of our new babe until he/she is born. Not with anyone. It sucks.

Eddie had a relative that was a real a-hole about the name too- so he is the other reason we will not be sharing. He told Eddie she would "hate" us. That was a deal breaker. We both just had to chalk it up to opinions are like assholes... and this one has and is one.

So ya, this time we won't get to share and that is hard for me. I am really into spreading good news and I am no good at secrets but when you are carrying a child, there are sensitivity buttons hidden all over you. You don't know they are there half the time and they just get pushed and it sucks. it's hard to keep your cool sometimes and I am a control freak. I like to be in control, I like to know what to say and what to do. I am not a know it all, I just like to have control of myself and when someone pushes my buttons, when I'm not pregnant, I can always handle it and when I'm with child... seems like it 60/40 and I don't like those odds.

I love my daughters name. As she gets older and more of her personality shows, she is SO her name. "Elvis" was a name my son thought of. He just said it, sitting in the back of the car. It was before we knew she was a girl, we were driving around and talking names and he said "what about Elvis?" and I said "well not for a boy but I kinda like it for a girl"- and that was that. There were other names in the running, but when we found out she was a girl, it just stuck. "Glo", is for my Grandmother, her name is Gloria. She is one of my all time favorite people in the world, I just sat next to her at Thanksgiving.

"Danger" is a name that I have loved since I was a teenager. It was the name of a character in a book and I have loved it since. 

So there's that. That's the story behind her name. I love it and I hope I can do something just as well for my next baby. My son has a family name, he goes by Quattro because we didn't know what to actually call him. Edward Carlyle Daly IV is a big name for a little guy and Eddie is my husband and Ed is his Dad... Edward seemed too old for a baby. While I was in the final few months of my pregnancy my good friend said "what about 'Quattro'?" and that was that. We are actually thinking about getting it put before "Edward" on his birth certificate so it will be legal. it is him, he is "Quattro" and I am 100% sure he will never go by anything else.

So what will No. 3 be called? What will it be? It's hard to come in behind a Quattro and Elvis- it's going to have to be good.

We are taking suggestions, but you won't get a shout out in the liner notes.

The cream always rises. Right?

So I woke up today feeling pretty good. Had the better part of my day planned and after a very slothy weekend, it was a real good thing.

First up I had an OBGYN appointment. If you don't know what that is, you should look it up or quit reading... there's going to be a LOT of this kind of talk for the next 6 months.

I like her okay. She is not as bad ass as my last OB, or as handsome as the one that came before that. Unfortunately I have had to find a new one for every kid- seems as though it is a not a business people really stay in these days. Don't ask me why.

She's a little uncouth. Like she will say things that are immediately offensive but not mean. She will never remember who I am, which I hate but I am looking for a good baby Mama doctor, not a best friend. But that is the hard part, my last one was like my BF, she was SO cool, I had a total crush on her. She was really caring and asked me real questions and never ever judged me or made me feel less than because of the way I look or dress. The doctor I had when I was pregnant with Quattro (11 years ago) was amazing too. He was in his 40's, real handsome and I had hot pink hair. He never, ever looked at me weird. He never made reference to it or anything. He was just a really good doctor and he seemed like he liked me- like I was refreshing.

So back to doctor No. 3.

I don't think I like her. And that is a problem. Right?

Today we were talking about the gender ultrasound that is coming up. She said "make sure your husband is there" and I mentioned that he would probably miss it, but of course we'd try. She wanted to know why he'd miss it and I said he traveled for a living (mind you, I have told this lady practically every time we meet that my husband is a musician, and works on the road, that is why she has never met him...) and anyway she said "what does he do?" ugh.. "he's a musician" I say and then she said "is he faithful to you?"

I was speechless, which isn't really like me. I didn't know what to say, no one has ever asked me that, I was pretty sure that was something that was considered rude, especially when it is not coming from someone sitting across from you on your couch.

I stammered a little and said "well, ya. I mean, of course." I was still lost and then she picked up my chart and flipped to the page of my STD tests (totally part of the pregnancy drill, you even get an HIV test, yay! I failed it!) and she said (pointing to a bunch of scribbles) "well, you're all clear!"

So you tell me (as I sit here waiting for my sister to get a break at work to call me, so I can vent) What the fuck?

My friends told me to dump her. Get a new one. Which I can do. Luckily I have that option. But I really want to NOT change. I want my old doctor but she doesn't live in Seattle anymore and so if I can't have her I just feel like I should go with a good doctor (which this one is, she won OBGYN of the year, she's real good) and not really care about getting coddled. She has no tact, I can live with that- right?

http://www.northwestharvest.org/Events/Food_Drives/Food_Drive_How-To.htm

Happy Cows?

There's an ad campaign that talks about California cows being "happy cows".

As I drove nearly 3000 miles, round trip, down the coast- I had an observation.

California cows don't look very happy.

If you've never seen the cow "farm" (I use that word lightly, it is more like a.... massive collection of cows) that is in California, that one that your milk and beef most likely comes from (if you're into that), consider yourself lucky.

It is the most disgusting thing. You can smell it before you see it. I am guessing there are no less than 20,000 cows in there and none of them look happy. So I am at a loss who thought that commercial was a good idea. I guess advertising has never been the honest business but I am in no mood to eat beef. I do drink milk, but it's usually organic and from Washington or Oregon, so I feel okay about that... I think.

I did, however, notice quite a few smaller farms in Oregon in which the cows actually did look- happy! They weren't all smooshed together, they had plenty of space and there was actually grass under their feet (hooves). In Cali, it was all shit or mud... or muddy shit. Ick.

So if you are ever near Buttonwillow (ahem, Buttholewillow) plug your nose and have a look around. Or better yet, don't.

.67 cents

Tonight, as I spread out a super healthy, homemade dinner for three, my son looks a little sad. 

He says "you know, there's a thing at school, if we donate .67 cents to the Great Harvest, it will feed one person".

He looked really disturbed by the thought, I am not sure if it was the thought of people going hungry or just the thought of us having all of this food, seemingly so easily. But he was sad. 

He asked how much I spent at the store and I could tell when I gave him the $147 total he was reeling with thought of how many people that could in fact feed. 

My son is no saint. He would buy gum before giving out a bum dollar (something I carry in my car, the "bum dollar") on MOST occasions, but not all. He is an old soul, it's a weird thing to watch. When he was a baby, like before toddler, if he heard a sad song, he would cry. I'm not kidding. It's a little creepy. So the kids got soul, from this lifetime and another (or others).

I had to explain that if we gave all of our food or money or whatever, to everyone that needed it, we would then be the ones in need. I had to also tell him that we are not filthy rich. I am not sure what kids think when they have parents that don't fight about money. I grew up in a house that was a constant money fight, so I always knew we had none. Not a big deal.

I have money now but sometimes we don't. When my husband takes a few months off to reorganize shop or to say have a baby- we make ziltch. And that's okay.

But to explain to your child that you do have to think about money and even though you can drop a cool $150 on groceries, you can't write a check for 50K to feed the homeless in Ballard. 

I wish I could. If I had Brad Pitts money, I would kick down majorly to my neighborhood and beyond. But I don't. 

I do have the sense and the time to help my child get a grasp on the big picture by looking at the little details. 

If he picked up all the pennies and coins he sees on the street and doesn't put them into his own bank, he could feed a man.

If he rakes the leaves from our backyard and takes half that money and gives it to the food bank- he could feed a family.

So this is what I am thinking about. It is a little sad to think about the hungry at night but you know, it's sad to think about it in the morning too. So instead of being sad, or allowing my son to feel that way, I am just going to help him and myself, do something about it. 

I was not raised to be a philanthropist but I am 100% naturally drawn to it. I realize I will not feed everyone and I might have to break it to my son, at some point, that he can't either because he still believes he can do anything. And as a Mom I am told I should teach that to my child, that they can do anything but I am also a god damn realist, he can't do that. He can't feed all the hungry people, he can't give everyone a winter coat but I guess my job is to teach him that he can be a part of the solution, instead of the problem. So many people know that people need help and I need to teach him that it doesn't matter why those who need it, need it- it only matters that IF you can help- you do.

When I had first met Eddie, we went to NYC for some shows and as we walked through the streets there was a homeless man in a wheelchair and a hat about 10 feet away from him, just off the curb, in the gutter.  I walked over, through the sea of people, picked it up and then gave it to him. He smiled and said "thank you".

It was so simple and I didn't think to much of it at the time, but that moment has come up in so many of our conversations, over the years. I am not sure why it was such a moment, for both of us I think, but I think he saw in me someone who cared about others and I saw a man that needed to start caring about others. So it just clicked. Weird.

And he's still like that and so am I. You can't teach an old dog new tricks. He's gotten a little better, I guess, but I am still the angel and he is most def the devil. Selfish little bastard, I love him though.

If you would like info on the Great Harvest, please leave me a comment. If you have kids it's a great way to get them started and I am sure there's something similar where you live.

Thank you sir, may I have another?

It's official. I am a mother of 3. For some reason today, or last night, it just hit me. 

Maybe I am finally rested after my trip and it finally sunk in. I didn't get the baby love I was hoping for over the holidays- so it's nice to be home around my friends who are stoked and caring. 

I've only been home a few days but with Eddie's departure a mere 24 hours after we got home, my time to get adjusted had to be quick.

Yesterday I took him to the airport after laying in bed until the last minute. He gave our son a ride to school and took care of the baby. It was nice. Hard to get out of bed into the cold car but nice to actually get to sleep in.

When I got home my 2 year old was ready for a nap and I couldn't be happier. I put her down and went right back to my bed, where I stayed until Q's bus stopped in front of the house. 

It was an incredibly lazy day. I loved it. Today not so much. I am back in the swing of things, it's cold as shit and I don't love it, so I just keep moving.

At Trader Joe's the cashier said "oh, isn't it great having just one baby?" (my daughter was in the cart), I said "actually I have a 10 year old too" and she said "well... one of each is great!" and then I told her I was pregnant and she just looked at me and stopped talking.

It got me thinking about how moronic people are and maybe they can't help it. Maybe we, as a species, are just made that way. We try to be polite, make conversation, talk about what we see and all the while, we are idiots. Completely oblivious to any reality, lacking every ounce of tact we thought we had.

I'm guilty too. I am sure I have said plenty of ridiculous stuff. Once I was at my usual coffee shop and someone noticed my son had really long hair and they said they thought it was cool that he was a boy sporting long locks- then I immediately asked them how old their daughter was... um, it was a boy... with really long hair. So, you know- shit like that.

I'm pregnant!... it might rain.

It seems as though, or at least this is my experience, that no one really cares about the third pregnancy. In my family anyway.

It may just be me, being silly or sensitive which isn't too far off but I'm usually pretty straight. But today I am bothered to no end, that not one person has told me "congratulations". No one has said, "ya! a baby!!" No one has asked my son if he's excited or told Elvis she will be a big sister. It is as if no one knows, but I'm going with, no one cares.

It's weird because I could not be more excited and yet, I find it hard to share my joy because if I mention it, the moment passes and not a word from anyone. I will say, "oh man, my pants are so tight" and then someone will talk about the weather. I will mention that I am exhausted and what a drag it is and then people will just carryon their conversation. 

I don't get it. I am baffled and I am never baffled by anything but this has got me all wrapped up with a question mark.

Day 2.

Day 1 was such a blur. I started to write about it last night and somehow just fell asleep. Laptop still on my bed in the morning.

We left for our 4 state road trip at about 3 p.m. The morning and then afternoon was chalk full of last minute details, total fuck ups and lots of running around. It was exhausting. I'm still exhausted and we are merely half way there.

Todays drive was better in some ways and totally worse in others. For one the weather didn't suck like it did on Wednesday. When we left, we left soaking wet. As in there were sheets of sideways rain while we packed up the car and repacked. It's a van, I am not use to all the space, so once we all got in, we then figured out how to make it all work.

But today I was driving and the car ahead of me took a hard left at about 75 mph and flew over the median, across oncoming traffic (I5 N) up a hill and then... off a cliff. I don't think it was a huge cliff but I'm almost certain I saw someone die. I still feel sick. I feel lucky and extra protective and so today I drove slow and thought about how quick shit happens. 

I pulled over and called 911. I gave them the mile marker and told them I couldn't stay. There was a man in a car behind me that stopped as well. He ran across 4 lanes of traffic to go help. I was glad he was there because if he wasn't, I probably would've done that, it's just a part of me to help, sometimes I wish it wasn't. But instead I got to drive away with my life still in tact and my mind not completely blown. I hope everyone was okay in that car. 

I've got to go to bed. That was hours ago and it is still weighing on me and I need to shake it before I fall asleep. 

Holiday movies

This is a big thing in my house. Probably yours too, although I do know that some people are not holiday people... which I find sad really, but anyway. 

We are big holiday movie, holiday traditions in general are huge over here. It's hard not to get into the spirit when you have kids but we started before we had them.

I remember my first Thanksgiving with Eddie. We were living at Middlefingerton, with Marky from Zeke, our great friends Peter and Dan Thunder Bolton. What a crew, huh?

We had the house to ourselves. I made a somewhat crappy dinner and we sat at the coffee table and watched "Planes, Trains and Automobiles". I will have you know, we watch this every year, it was our first tradition. 

Our Christmas is pretty low key. We don't invite anyone over, we don't have a big party or have dinner with extended family, Christmas is when we huddle. We turn off the phones and just enjoy being together. Christmas is my favorite day of the year. Not my favorite holiday but it is the only day we are completely together, thankful and... together.

Thanksgiving is probably my favorite holiday, I mean, after Halloween. Thanksgiving lets me be completely in my element and that is the kitchen. I am a cook. I am a kick ass cook and Tday, I take very seriously.

When we have stayed home, in the past, we invite people over on some years and some years it is just us. A few it was just Q and I and that will never happen again. It's in the "contract", the one husband and wife have, not the paper kind that you sign when you are married, the "contract" is the list of things you accumulate over the years. The "no-no's" the "must have's" and the "have nots". It is a "no-no" for him to miss Tday. Simple. It will never happen (again).

I'm a counting the days before I get to see him, more so than usual. I guess because it is holiday time and I am missing him like crazy and also, I really want to see him with the kids. 7 weeks when you are 2 is like a lifetime. She is so different. Quattro is 10 and he seems different too. Kids grow fast... that is something people tell you before you have them and you just don't really get it. Until, you get it.

It's so damn true.

Chillin' with Elvis.

Today I had lunch with my daughter. We went to this great Vietnamese place called Monkey Bridge, right here in my hood, Ballard.

It was one of those lunches that you will remember. Forever. If you are a Mom, you know that type. I was sitting across from her and just watched as she fought to use her chop sticks. I just smiled and laughed as she chewed out her shrimp from her fresh roll, then picked out all the bean sprouts- every bit her father's daughter. 

I noticed others watching her too, I love that. When they get to see a child happy and tear free in a restaurant. I mean, there are plenty of times when she is screaming her face off (in which, we leave) but today seemed somewhat perfect. Aside from the 3 trips to the bathroom (potty training in full force), it was absolutely fantastic, although the bathroom breaks didn't really take anything away from it, other than the heat from my lemongrass beef noodle bowl.

I really cherish these moments, just like when my son was 2. Although my life was different then, I am still very much the same Mother. I parent the same. I don't have more or less patients, I don't know more or less about the job. It's strange, a lot of people I talk to say they are better parents now, after the first one but for me I really think it was a switch. I'm not sure if it was when I got pregnant or when I first saw his face, on 12.21.00- I was this person.

I mean, I have learned a lot, I know more about life but the Motherly things, totally the same.

I intend to always feel this way. Some days I am at my absolute worst, but some days, I feel as though I could never get any better. I know, in truth, neither of those are true. I will never be a bad Mother and I will always be able to be better. That's a comforting thought. I am going to enjoy that for a minute, because you know, this may come as a surprise, but I am making all this shit up as I go along! Ha! I mean, really, I am just making it up, but it is always the truth.

Thank you again, all my faithful readers. I feel like I can spread a bit of punch you in the gut, slap your ass and spit in your face news. I am pregnant! Yep. We are adding our third, and final, Daly installment in early June. 

Holy shit!

I am always so surprised when I come back to this blog (after neglecting it) and see that people are reading it. It makes me feel so happy, it's weird and self indulgent and maybe narcissism at it's best...  but, who am I to judge myself? Huh? To be honest I have very few moments of self indulgence. I don't know if it's the kids or my husband being vain enough for the state of Washington, but as I get older (hey.. did I just say that?) I realize that those of us who aren't prone to being full of ourselves need to be. Simple as that. 

As a child/teenager, my sister would tell me (and everyone) I was full of myself. She thought this way about me for whatever reasons, they are hers and I'm not going to try and guess them- but it was exactly the opposite of the case. I guess it was hard to see who I really was (who knows who anyone really is when they a child, teen or twenty something?) I was a cheerleader and that right there makes everyone judge. Which is so wrong, those years were not exactly my finest moments, but it was a "sport" that kept me with the right crowd and some great friends by day, so I could go off and be a complete delinquent youth, by night. I led a double life, I was a real hot mess.

Anyway, not to get sidetracked by my childhood that somewhat resembled the movie "Thirteen". Although when I saw it I was completely sad to think it was so similar to my story, there were parts of mine that were so much worse. It's not a competition. My story, like everyone else's makes me who I am today and apparently that is a blog writer!

I'd like to thank my readers. I hope you pass it on. I would like it to eventually all be for something, whether it be when my kids are grown, they read about who I am (was) or maybe I will get published and write a book? Who knows, stranger fucking things have happened. 

I am just glad to be writing about myself and my life and my experiences. There are so many blogs and the like that are written by people who are writing about someone else's world, someone else's life. That's not the case here people. I think we can all agree.

Fine. Missin' you. WTF. Breathe.

I can do this. 

It has officially been long enough since Eddie has been home, that I feel like I can do it. I go through phases, the "it's fine" phase is always first. He leaves and I just wave good bye and immediately start going about my business. The work load is huge but I'm not yet affected.

Then I start missing him. The night I climb into bed and it's not all about sleeping in the middle. I kinda wish he was there, even if he steals covers and snores. Even though he wears the same shirt to bed that he wore all day, I suddenly want to smell his shirt.

After a few days of missing him I start to get pissed. I'm tired from having to do everything and the kids usually get sick (ahem... always) and I am just mad. I stop talking to him on the phone for a few days, everything he says is annoying. I don't miss his smelly shirt, I just glare at the pile of laundry he left in his closet (because no, I still have not washed it).

And then one day (today) I feel like I can breathe.

The house isn't in too bad of shape. My kids are happy and I'm busy but it doesn't seem as overwhelming as on the "WTF" stage because I have a rhythm. Finally. 

This is when he usually comes home and fucks everything up, it's awesome but it is like walking over to my stack of dominos lined up throughout the house, and just touching one... you know they are all going to fall over and I know it must be done.

This time he is not coming home. This tour in going to go on until the end of Feb and it sucks that it must be so long but we are really thankful that it is. Rock 'n roll is like anything else, you have to work while you can and even though he can't be here for Halloween, we will be together for Thanksgiving, which is my favorite holiday, to be with my family is so incredibly insane, it is nonstop, tons of food, people, craziness. I love it.

I've got to get back to the Halloween costumes. 

Throwing in the towel

Do you ever want to just quit? Like, literally, walk out the door and just say "that's it! I'm done!".
Man, I do.
Today that was me. And a little of yesterday too.
I am so tired and spread too thin. My own fault, I guess I just want to do too much and I feel like cutting anything out will make something else totally fucked up... so I try to do it all and guess what?
I can't.
Ugh. I hate that almost more than I hate the being fed up part.
Sometimes I just want my husband to come home and go to work in the morning and come back in the evening. Just like everyone else. People thing the rock n' roll is so easy, but it's not. It is SO not.
I'm starring down the barrel of 5 (more) weeks before I get to spend 7 days with him and then he's off again for another month, home for a week then gone again... I'm bitching. I realize it could be worse, but this is my blog.
I was listening to " The Incredibles" when the scene where the Mom is at the dinner table with the kids who are going ape shit and she is yelling for the Dad to come "intervene!". I need to do that right now. I needed that today, to yell out for my husband to come and help. But he is in Florida, trying not to get eaten by alligators or whatever it is that you do in Florida... I needed a back-up and I don't have it. Sucks.
What is one to do? Sit in a dark corner and regroup... I guess, I mean, that is the only thing to do.
I ordered take out, it was so salty we could barely eat it... I should have just made dinner.
I worked for a while in Q's costume... now the kitchen is covered with green fur...
I let E have a popsicle because she hasn't eaten in 4 days because she is getting over something and now there's a trail of sticky pink shit all over the floor.
I ran a bath for myself and then started doing some school work... now my bath is cold.
I'm having a bad day and that is allowed. I guess that is the real lesson I can learn. As long as I know it's just a day (or a week, tops), I will get through it.
And no, I won't get to make dinner every night and holler at my husband to come intervene when things get wild, but that is okay too. When he is home he is completely home. He is loved whether he is here or there and sometimes I love him more when he's gone, because I feel invincible because I have to do this all on my own. That is a good feeling, however hard it is on these days, this is it. This is it. This is the ride I chose and I do believe I chose wisely.
Good night cruel world. If you hand me a pair of deuces tomorrow, you can go f' yourself.

Speaking of phone etiquette...

have we really lost the art of talking on the phone?
I am banging my head trying to think of the last time I talked to someone and they actually gave me the attention a phone call use to get. I can't think of a single one and I am just wondering if we are all done talking?
I use email and text as much as the next busy 35 year old mother, but I do like to talk. Not always, I can't always pick up the phone and you know what I do then? I don't pick up. If I can't talk, I don't pick up. If something comes up, I get off the phone. If I find myself sitting in front of an open email or the sudden urge to surf the inter-web strikes... I get off the fucking phone.
This is spurred by a number of things, but mostly by my husband who never ever, ever gives me the floor, while on the phone.
P.S.
You totally deserve being hung up on. X

What is with everyone?

Seriously. What in the hell is up everyone's butt?
I am come across so many rude people lately, I think it's an epidemic. Or a pandemic... what's the difference? Both bad.
It's an assholademic.
I called someone recently and they answered (their cell phone) "WHAT? I'm really busy. Is this important?"
Really, that is what they said. I had to pull the phone away from my ear to see if I was in fact calling the right person. I was more than offended, I was completely caught off guard. I'm not sure why you would think it is okay to talk like that. I hope this person wasn't in an actual meeting, how embarrassing to be caught talking to someone like that.
So it goes, I have been greeted with the most unfortunate assholes lately. Everyone is so self absorbed, they have no idea they still need to be fucking nice. You have to be nice. You live in the WORLD. Ahem, where everyone else lives. And sure we all have our days, I have had a phone ring many times at the worst possible minute and if I ever had the urge to answer and scream at the person- I would choose to ignore the call. Whomever is calling is completely unaware of my world, because they have their world to live in.
So I hang up and have to rethink human nature. I am so drawn to these things, I am fascinated at what makes people snap and for what reason. Is it really that bad? Did you just find out you have a month to live? I mean, it could be anything, frustration, hangover... I am just blown away that people talk to each other like that.

Apple picking

At it's finest.
Well, maybe not. I have never actually been. But today, I went. We all did.
The kids and I jumped in the car at 10 a.m. And headed to Jones Creek Farms, for some prime WA apple picking.
I guess on the East coast it is huge, it is what they do in the fall. My Mother grew up in Montana and she remembers doing it as a kid too. She said every year it rained, never failed.
I looked online to find a place that would actually let you pick apples, most of the orchards out here don't. There were some places that were so far away, I was sure to end up in Idaho, or worse, Canada (I'm kidding). I chose a place that wasn't necessarily close but it sounded cute and this happened to be their harvest festival weekend. You know, pumpkins and shit. I could care less about pumpkins, we did that two weeks ago at Fair Bank Farms (go there if you live near Seattle, so awesome). So yeah, pumpkins shmumpkins, I wanted some damn apples!
The place was about an hour and a half away, it was a cool drive though, all the trees are turning, we must've passed 10 pumpkin patches. We pulled up to this little place, there were cars lined up so I knew we were there, but it was pretty non descript. I was happy, I hate the places that are half carnival, I mean, I dig a carnival but not while I'm getting pumpkins or apple picking, kids loose sight of what they are there for and it becomes a day of waiting in line for rides.
We walked up and were greeted with a girl, who was probably 12, she was sweet and gave us a cup a super delicious hot cider. That was actually hot! We were pointed to the wagons and boxes, where we packed up and went.
We walked to the end where they said had not been over picked... they were wrong. There were no apples! I'm thinking we just drove nearly two hours for cider...
but we turned the corner and went to the middle and found a ton of apples. We all picked and fell in the mud. Q pulled the wagon and Elvis hunted butterflies. It was one of those times I know I will think about when I am 90. I will remember the time we apple picked, for the first time and we all loved it.
Tonight. Apple crisp!

this is a random picture I recently found and love. He was 5. He was/is magic.

Shhhh....

have you ever had a secret that you were just dying to tell?
I have one and it is really killing me. Seriously. It's killing me! So exciting and yet, nada. Nothing. I can't say a word.
And it's like I have nothing to say because I have everything to say. When I talk to friends, I am just out of words. I'm guessing because I have so many. That are stuck. Behind the duct tape. That is over my mouth.

Eddie and the boys are in Oklahoma City tonight. I have no idea where they are going tomorrow and I don't know where they were the day before. It's funny, I use to keep such tight tabs on him and now it is as if it doesn't matter. He isn't here. That's what matters, so if he isn't going to be here and I am not going to be there... I don't know, I guess we can both agree that, it just don't matter.
I don't think he minds. I try not to bore him with the lame questions. "Where are you?" (Starbucks) "Where have you been?" (the hotel). I always want to know the gossip. I am a fein! But there is none. Not yet. They have a new guy doing sound, so I am hoping there is some trouble to be had. Eddie said it was Justin's Bday (said sound guy) and they did not succeed in getting him drunk. He assured me he thought the kid was trying not to be too crazy, being the "new guy" but I assured him, there's nothing he can do that someone else (D.F.) hasn't already done. Period. The road will make you go crazy.
D.F. came running through the backstage door and jumped into the air, came crashing down and slid across an entire, rather large, coffee table FULL of beer bottles. There was glass EVERYWHERE. It was heaven. It was one of the coolest things I have ever seen. We have it on video, somewhere. Although Eddie probably lost it. They toured with Motorhead and got all kinds of backstage footage... Eddie lost the camera. Damn it Eddie. Although to his "credit" (I guess) he thinks it was stolen from the van... that he forgot to lock. Either way. Eddie pulled an "Eddie".
Alright, I am going to bed. I hope I don't bite my tongue off.


8 seconds.

Love to carve pumpkins.

Me and my favorite man.

What a difference a week makes.

a week ago today I was busy grocery shopping and planning meals, now I am busy blowing noses and downing aspirin.
My entire house got so sick, oh man. I boo it.
I feel like now a week has passed so whether I feel like getting to the laundry or not, I have to. Ugh. I boo that too.
The energy that is sucked out of you is insane, I am so sick of coughing.
My husband is in Aspen I think, he has been traveling for a week now and somehow on this end it feels a little bit like forever.
We will see him for Thanksgiving, in Arizona. I can't believe that is coming up so fast. What is going on? Is it when you have kids? I'm guessing, I just feel like time is flying, I'm trying to be ore aware of that. Take a minute to enjoy stuff, stop and smell the florwers, that kind of shit but you know I try and do that anyway. Having the entire house in pj's for an entire week (seriously) I kept thinking of how these times will be wpmy fond memories when I'm old and my kids are grown. Kind of depressing but really sweet. I will always remember the sick times, that is when they seem to need you the most... Although I would like to forget the time Quattro had the swine flu and Elvis was 5 weeks old and Eddie was on tour. That fucking sucked.

E&S

Elvis has taken to riding the dog. This cruel and hilarious. I can barely stand it.
That's all. We are all sick, I have nothing but self pity and kleenex to get us through this.

Please forgive me.

I have always wanted to be smarter.
See even there, I am not sure if I should say "smarter" or "more smart". I'm guessing the latter sounds as dumb as anything, so I will choose A. I wanted to be more intelligent, not anal retentive.
I didn't have the best grades and I have never taken to anything naturally.
I am good at things, but that is because I had to work at it. That doesn't happen to everyone.
I remember growing up, my sister couldn't get a bad grade if she wanted... I, on the other hand, learned my mothers signature very early.
I was also not a very good kid... but, I was fun and I kept things interesting. Everyone said I was "different", I am cool with that now, not then. I really just wanted to be smart and get good grades, easily, and get attention without having to be bad.
I was the second child, to a mother who was twice divorced. She had to work because my "father" was a total deadbeat and that left little time for anything.
I think my childhood, if I can call it that, was fine. It was what it was, as "they" say.
I was thinking about all of this not because I am rehashing my youth with my shrink. I am never rehashing. I don't blame my faults on the past and I don't waste time pin pointing things that went on back then, that have left me totally fucked up now. Who has the time? I'm going forward people. You should join me.
I was thinking about grades and smarts and natural abilities because I have a son that seems to have a little somethin' somethin'. He has the thing, the thing I guess my sister had. He doesn't have to try to get it. He gets it. He does work really hard, he's 10, distraction if anything gets the best of him and that keeps him on his toes.
But like with so many people that have the brains, the natural ability to have things come more easily than most- how do I keep it that way? How do I nurture this child who has no real idea of how smart he is (the best ones don't)?
Other than keep him from starting a band, I mean, that is a given. He is growing up in this business, which is our bread and butter. We are part of this very small group that get to live off of music. It's radical. It's awesome. It is hard.
Not just the business end of everything (make money when you tour, make non when you don't. Lame! Although if you own your own music you do see $ from that. Do not sell your songs people and my advice? Write the song, it is the only way you will see cash when you are not touring)
Ok, so what was I saying? Oh right, when you are a touring band, musician whatever- sure there are many tiers. There are private planes, tour buses, econoline vans and your own car. I have never been a part of the private planes, that's fine, really, it always makes me think of La Bamba... honestly, I couldn't do it and they are bad for the planet.
I can't deny my child his passion. IF he grows up and has a band and that is what he is going to do, great, well, fine- not great. He will know a lot about it before hand, he has grown up on tour. He lost his first tooth on the road in a market, he learned how to walk backstage, potty trained in the urinal, went from a crib to a tour bus bunk. He knows what it is like to eat chips and salsa for dinner and have a meal at 2 a.m. in the back of the van. He learned how to read in his car seat in the "big red van". He has been in probably 1500 hotel rooms, he has traveled across Canada in Pearl Jams bus. He spent half of his kindergarten year in Europe because school was pissing me off.
I love the road, he loves the road but do I want him in a band? On the road? In one word... no.
I don't.
I want him in college. I want him to be something amazing that he is good at and wants to do and something where he can be himself and create something that makes him feel powerful.
I just described my husbands life.
I guess a band it is.

What's cookin'

Yesterday I bought over $200 worth of food. The week before, we ate out for every single meal, spent over $500. It goes like that, sometimes I feel completely sick of my kitchen, tired, worked late or whatever and thinking of what to make is torture and then I realize how fun and simple it can be to cook at home.

I get busy, like everyone. We have those nights, around 5 p.m. when I have no idea what we are going to eat and that's when a call to Thai Ku comes in. It's hard because not only is it expensive to live like that but it's bad for you. Believe me, I worked in catering for years and if something needed something... it was usually butter. I can neither afford that in the bank or anywhere else.

I went to the store, actually two. Okay, 3. But only because they are close and I had a couple hours to myself. First the produce stand. I buy all the fruit and veggies that are IN season and looking good. Next up Safeway. This is where I get staples... last stop Trader Joe's. This is where I buy my meat and cheese, cereal and snack food. You know, fruit in a tube. It's nasty but try getting your kid to eat an entire apple in the 3 minutes they have for lunch... doesn't happen. It's either coming home (sliming the lunchbox) or it gets thrown out. Either way, money in the trash. I put 1 fruit and 2 veg in every lunch. It's my thing. I am the queen of lunchboxes. I pack a mean lunch.

Anyway, so that's the deal. It doesn't have to happen at 3 stores. I could probably skip one, but I actually enjoy them all. Last night I planned, roughly, what we were going to eat this week. I am a little spontaneous. I try to allow myself to be inspired by something, so I roughly plan for the meals, allowing myself freedom to change what we eat.

I roasted parsnips, carrots, red potatoes and beets, cooled them, chopped them and put them in the fridge. I used walnut oil and salt with some dried rosemary. The beets I made a little foil pouch, oil, salt and some thyme. 350-375 oven for about 30 minutes. You don't want to burn them but you want them to be completely cooked through, "fork tender".

I bought a rotisserie chicken (these rule, graphic but they rule) and took all the meat off. Well most of it. After awhile I just get grossed out, chickens have SO many bones, when I'm done. I'm done.
I put all the meat in a container and throw "Marcus the Carcass" in a big pot. Tossed in a carrot, giant sprigs of rosemary, salt, onion, garlic and boiled it, covered, for an hour. Drained it into a tall pitcher (too dangerous to put in a giant bowl in the fridge, it WILL spill) and officially through out the remains.

Then I was on such a roll, I brown some ground turkey with cumin and salt. I added garlic, basil and tomatoes. Poof! Red sauce.  I have everything for chicken noodle soup. Today I boiled some egg noodles and kept them separate. I put some mushrooms in a hot pan, added two cloves of minced garlic, through in the root veg I had roasted, some fresh thyme and the chicken. Added my homemade stock, 2t of veg soup base (I love the Better than Bouillon brand) and viola! Lunch/dinner/linner, whatever.

Tonight I made a pork roast. I put rosemary, garlic, oil, salt in the food processor until it formed a paste and then added some vinegar (or wine would work), smother the roast and bake it for about 6 hours at 275. You can brown it, cook at 350 for a shorter time, but the slow version is great for Sundays.

If I have any time and my daughters nap lasts long enough I will assemble and not bake the lasagne. Remember the red sauce? Ricotta, two eggs and some boiled noodles (the no boil ones are WHACK!) fresh basil. You have yourself some kick booty, simple, and delicious lasagne.
Okay, so get to work. Don't try and do it all in one day. Don't try and start with three meals. But if you are tired of paying too much ordering out, try this. I will post next weekend of how it went, what I did with leftovers and how I plan on keeping this up. If you are smart and don't waste time/food, $200 at the market can last you at LEAST 2 weeks.

Rock n roll.

Seriously. There was some of that last night. A lot of that actually.
Supersuckers played El Crapizon, here in our beautiful city.
The guys were rusty, punchy and backstage, very silly.
I would like to say that most of the people that work at that place are and have always been assholes.
About a year ago I got dragged out (I was standing side stage) and the whole time the guy was pulling me by my arm in a really stupid, rude way. He wasn't talking to me, just dragging me along. I thought about "accidently" falling on the ground, to see if he would still drag my lifeless body... I should have, oh well, there's always next time. The guy said I brought beer in from outside and for the life of me I could not understand how/when/why that would be possible. I said "I'm with the band, I got this backstage" and he said "ya, every girl is with the band- but you can't bring in beer from the outside, you are OUT OF HERE!" he screamed . I was near tears, OF LAUGHTER! The guy was wild eyed crazy. I told him that the Pils I was drinking was the choice of my husband and someone must have brought it in for him.... it's called a "rider". He left me in the doorway to run up and look. He came back down with a plastic cup and grabbed my beer, splashed it in the cup and walked away... there was a time when I would have ran after him, jumped on his back and tackled his ass but I had already missed 20 minutes of the show, so screw that.
Last night I was walking with Scotts girlfriend, out from the backstage and another "security" guy came unglued because we had beer, he practically pushed us out into the crowd, which is not where we were going.
In Seattle there is a "law" that you can't have alcohol on the stage or in the backstage. This is the "law" but as many of you know it is a law that is not only ridiculous but totally unnecessary. It's a backstage, there's beer in it, put in there by the club. There, rule 1 broken by them. Then rule 2, no drinking on the stage, they supply cups for the guys to put their beer into, so everyone thinks they are drinking... lemonade. Fucking stupid. And those meatheads that are following that shit like it is coming in from the devil himself, you all need to get a life. There are plenty of things to do as a security and there are plenty of ways to go about those things. My girl J is the best security guard ever. Nothing going down on her watch and she would never act like a crazy animal while doing her job. These Crapizon people need a lesson. Don't even get me started on the bartender chick... but now I will be back at the, what once was the Off Ranp end of December and you know, I think I am going to go limp if shit goes down, I think I want to see how far they'll drag me. Duff, you better have your camera ready.
I'd like to give a shout out to Lisa and her Husband Earle. Met these lovely people backstage last night. Earl was actually talking to Eddie and I heard him say "my wife loves your wifes blog". That's where I chimed in. I mean, how cool is that? It is nearly impossible for me to wrap my brain around the fact that people read my shitty blog. Keep reading!! And pass it on. Link it, post it.

And just like that, he's gone.

It has not gotten easier. People often assume it does.
We have been doing this dance so long, it's easy to think it comes naturally.
But it doesn't.
To go to bed one night together and wake up with the bags packed, sitting at the door.
The phone rings, the van pulls up and just like that- he's back out there.
I wouldn't change it though.
I get to be the lone star and in a way he does too and we both absolutely need that to be who we are.
I am here holding down the fort, taking care of our family and he is out there doing what he loves. Just like me.
I love being on tour but maybe more so, I love being at home. Sometimes anyway.
Touring is not for everyone. As romantic as it sounds, I know very few people that can take it.
He can take it. And I have to take, the being apart, part- with a smile.
Having kids makes things more interesting. Long gone are the days of Eddie climbing in the van or on the plane and me climbing into bed. I remember once getting into bed after he left and I didn't get out for three days. I didn't eat or answer the door. I didn't make any calls. This was before Eddie had a cell phone, I would have to wait for him to find a pay phone and when they were in Europe, we'd go days without talking. I never knew when he would call. I would sit by the phone, LITERALLY, just sit and wait and wait and then it would ring and we'd talk until the phone card ran out. Click. Just like that, he'd be gone again.
So I did that for a while. I was sad and pathetic and I didn't have any friends to snap me out of it. I was new to this town and to this crazy life and I had to learn everything the hard, slow way. But I am glad. If someone had walked me through it, who knows, I might hijack everything years later and go through it all again, my way. I'm like that. Humans are like that. It's like a mini- midlife crisis. When you want to redo, go back, start over. I prefer to do things the hard way, first and then be done with it. It's not really by choice, I think it was how I was born... I have never taken the easy way- for better or worse.
After awhile I realized I couldn't sit around and wait for him anymore. I mean, I was "waiting" for him emotionally but physically, I couldn't do it. I had to get a life and then figure out how to have them meet, harmoniously, when he came home. It was weird and complicated and messy at times. I tried working, I tried traveling. I got some friends but it dawned on us one night, on the phone (him probably freezing in a urine smelling pay phone) what we really needed to do. Where the natural course of our relationship was headed.
So we had kids.
Kids make things better, or at least they did for us. They made things make sense and they (he) gave me a purpose. I had no idea, before I had Quattro, that I was suppose to be someone's Mother. And I guess not just anyones, I mean, I am completely convinced that I was suppose to have him.
In a very freaky way, he has taught me so much about myself, that I had no idea. Not just how to be a Mother and how to carry on in life living like I am NOT the most important thing but he taught me weird stuff. How to care about the world. How to help things get better. How to stop complaining and start doing. What a fucking concept...
There are parts to having kids that I don't like. When they are too young to understand what is going on. They are just sad in their own way. When sad doesn't really have a name for them, but you can see it on their face when he leaves. When he calls and when you talk about him. That part sucks.
When they get older and understand he is leaving- that sucks too. They get that he is going to leave AND come back, but they also know a little bit about time and that is hard for everyone.
Now that I have one of each, the one who "gets it" and the one who gets none of it, I'm oddly getting it myself. The whole thing.
I have been typing this thing over the course of an entire day. I have shopped the market, given baths, made 3 meals, tended to my sick son and kept a toddler busy. I have walked dogs, fed them and their two cat friends. I am tired and I guess I am telling you this, whomever you are, because over the next nearly 4 months- I will be tired. Many of my posts will not make sense and they will jump all around and there will be many, many errors. I will not proof read before I hit "publish post".
I will just post. And when my husband comes home all will be right with the world and our son and daughter will be really, really happy.

PTA took my baby away.

Tonight was the first PTA meeting of the year. Some of you might be surprised at this acknowledgment. I am neither surprised nor ashamed. I actually enjoy it. The idea of "it" anyway- the meeting is nose hair plucking painful, but it is sprinkled with thoughts on learning, our children and the process of how we must vote to get things done. That I dig. A lot.
I find it personally lame that more parents don't show up. I get it though, they have read into all the anti-hype, they believe all the things that are being said about PTA meetings. I get it. I GET THAT. But let me ask you what political meeting do your feel completely enamored by? Which congressional hearing do you watch without taking a nap? Me? None. They are all boring. It so boring I am bored while I type, so I could possibly be typing in my sleep.
What I'm getting at is that things are boring. Especially when they are in a system, there is a protocol, blah blah blah... but I want to challenge that.
My Mother always said she would have been more involved in my school if she wasn't a single mom with 2 kids and more jobs. So this is for her, I guess. This angry, spicy rage I feel for all of those people who think they are too cool for the PTA. Too cool to help out at school, at home. To sign up to volunteer to do something that, sure you wouldn't want to do 15 years ago but welcome. Welcome to Fall 2011. Get involved. These kids are our future. They are the future of our social security and so much more. They are the ones that will be making sure we are set up when we can't do it for ourselves. Shouldn't we teach them how?
Gosh.

With the last days of summer gone, the clouds of fall rolling in as I sit here. I just wanted to report that I've had a really good time.
Stay tuned for more bloggin. Once I get a few good naps under my belt, I will welcome fall and the break neck pace of it.

Strike the match

Today I took my kids to an annual festival called the "Wurstfest, mine and Eddie's old stompin grounds. When we moved in together (about a month and a half after we met) we lived in Middlefingerton, right smack in the middle of Wallingford.
Anyway, so we are walking around and buying cookies at the bake sale, where I saw my friend slangin' cookies. The event raises money for their school, which seems amazing all on it's own. The kids jump in the jumpy things, we ate bratwurst and watched Casper Baby Pants. We did our thing. Q rode the Cliff Hanger twice and waited for too long for something else, that he later bailed on... time was ticking. Time is always ticking, we have a toddler in the house.
Elvis jumped in her first jumpy house. I had to talk her into getting in because she was just not having it. Standing on the outside, she wanted to be in there, but walking up to the puffy slide thing you climb in on, not so much. We waited until there were just little kids and she finally took the bait. And I just sort of tossed her in. I knew she would love it and that way everyone wins and we can go home. I have been gone all summer. All I want to do is hang out at my house.
After about 5 minutes (I think the lady let them jump longer since it took 25 minutes for her to get in there, which was nice) it was time for everyone to get out. I hadn't given that part too much thought. I just forgot I guess. Not now. Now I remember how unreasonable babies can be. And that's when the fun started. I told her it was time to get out, I shook my hands to sign "all done". Nope. Nothing. I had to actually get in the jumpy house. I had to climb in and roll around and the only thing I could grab her by (because OF COURSE she thought it was hilarious that I was coming in after her) were her little tiny feet. I pulled her ankles and dragged her out like a fish at Pike Place Market. It was not my proudest moment. She was whaling and I just smirked at the line of freaked out mothers who were judging me. I'm certain as a jertain in a curtain.
I see a lot of that shit go down and mothers who talk loudly to their kid (as if they will then hear them over the fire truck volume scream) and they are reasoning with them, 'It's okay honey, you had your turn, it is time for some of the other kids to have their turn then it can be your turn again."
Horse shit. I was not bringing her back. We were out of there as soon as I climbed out of the door flaps and slid down the inflatable slide.

Win some, lose some.

It's all part of the game.
The growing up game.
As a kid and even teenager, I didn't have a ton of friends.
When I was young we moved around too much, there was no way I could keep a friendship and after a while, I didn't want to make one- as soon as we'd get close, I'd move away.
There was this one girl, Joyce. I can't remember where we were living, I think I was in 2nd grade. After we moved that time, I sort of made a vow to myself, to not make any more good friends. She was the best. I think I tried to change my name to Joyce. I asked my family to call me Joyce. They didn't. They never wanted to do my wacky stuff. Imagination was not high on the list at my house.
When I was in my early 20's I met a great group of friends and that was the first real batch of people I could count on. They were like family. It was like in the movies. After I met and married Eddie, and moved away, those friendships faded. Like the movies. The lights came on and I was once again surrounded by a bunch of people who were really not my friends.
Making friends in Seattle in 1999, after marrying Eddie after 3 months did not make me very popular. He had his group of friends that became mine by circumstance but it took some time to make my own. Out of the 10-15 people, I am friends with a total of 3 of them now.
I have been here for 12 years and it now my turn to have real grown up friends. I did the school circuit right, I joined the PTA and managed to stay away from the crazy ones (not the real crazy ones, they are too fun to watch) and make a handful of awesome friends. I feel lucky as a 35 year old girl, I get to have some men and women that are really my friends. Not my parents, not my old boyfriends, not my husbands. They are mine.
I am sad at the shedding of friends that happens when you go on to have a family and life just gets in the way. But I think it is just part of the cycle. I appreciate the cycle, when we have to go without we sometimes find the motherload.

Oh please!

I am so so tired of reading parenting magazines and celebrity Mom tweets.
I could just barf.
I mean. Who is enlightened here, besides them?
I could stop reading. But I can't really. I mean, I am a Mom. It's like part of the job, right?
No. I have friends that have never picked up a Parenting magazine. They do not care what Tori Spellings daughters bday party theme is... I do. Fucking shoot me.
I read and have read possible every article in Parenting and the ill fated "Cookies" magazines and countless others. I use to get them all. I have backed down a little. Who needs all that? After a few years it is absolutely all the same shit, different cover.
I'm just wondering who are they marketing? Mothers with millions? Why don't they just call it that?
I'm not a cheap ass. I do like to spend money on my kids but more I like to be interesting for my kids. I guess, moeny does matter but sanity and happiness matter more.
I read about like Brooke Burke, she writes about all the things she is doing and all the while trying to sound like a super mom but really, I think she is just being super famous and mothering gets her new fans. They send out tweets for you to go look a product (that they are getting for free by the way, for sending out the stupid tweet) and it's like an $80 bottle of nail polish. Pa-leeze. You know you don't wear that brand.
I'm just sick of it. Where is the Mommy role model for the rest of us? I want to read about someone who has kids, some style, someone who has a life (I'm kidding, I don't care if she has a life), can get me informed about something I didn't know and crafts like a mother fucker.
Or I can just keep reading about celebrity moms that pretend to have perfect, genius kids and husbands that have sex with them every night, right after they get off their bow flex. The same ones that get up at 5 a.m. "before the kids get up" to work out with their personal trainer to be ready in time to get their hair and make up done before a photo shoot. OR I can stop reading all together and just give it up like crack. I'm kidding, I never did crack, not because I didn't have the opportunity, but because crack, is for losers.
But I'll keep reading because I want to know stuff, I have a sickening fascination for celebrities and I am an artist to my bones. I have a thirst for parenting knowledge too, like I can't get enough of it, it's like I'm in college... for 18 years. Possibly more. Who knows... now THAT is an article I have NOT read. Would be nice though. If anyone from Parenting or the like is reading, call me, I'm available.

Wiggly stripes.

So a few days ago, there were millions of warm blooded american women lining up at the most ridiculous hour to get a cart(s) full of every type of clothing, bedding and house wares you can imagine- all with the same pattern. This has bothered me ever since. Can we not all agree that this is retarded? I use that word in the most literal way, as in Webster's Dictionary says "mentally slower than someone of the same age". I'd say that's right. Even though they were, no doubt, retarded women of all ages, I just can't think of a more ridiculous thing to do. It is NOT like Black Friday when people flock to the stores at the same insane hour- THAT is for a sale, people. I get that. And let's face it, most of you do too. Sales are sales and these days EVERYONE needs a sale. So sure, get up early, fight some old broad for a 90" flat screen for $50 and you've got yourself a deal (kidding, I know nothing about TVs except, I like mine small enough so that you don't notice them when you walk in my house, complete opposite of every american, I know, I know). So say you get up and you go get this crap that has the wiggly stripes and you fill your house to look like that commercial. What... No, no, no, no... Ok wait, first of all, why? Please tell me why? It's all the same fucking pattern people!!?? As I look around my place, first floor of my cozy (re: small) 3 story house, I see nothing that has the same pattern. The only similarities anything in here are the two pillows I recently bought. They match. There's only two... we don't have a rug anymore, so the pillows really tie the room together. I guess I'm just venting and irritated that so many people are talking about this wiggly stripe thing like it is anything to talk about. They just created something that is the price range that more people can clammer on to. The Birkin bag of Sex And The City.. um, no. Bitches can't be afforden' that shit. So they give us this line in Target, that they hype up and mass produce, all together now "MASS PRODUCE" (not that there is anything wrong with that) but what good is anything so trendy? Huh? Ugh, I shudder to even say that word. I hate the word "trendy", maybe it is because I grew up with that tag of "different" which I didn't like any more than trendy but now I get it. I get that the haters of my youth gave me the strength to stay away from the god damn wiggly stripes and all the like... I mean, can you imagine showing up at the bar with a fucking stripe wrap dress and seeing a couple other chicks with it on? I would feel... what's the word of that day again? Oh yeah, "retarded*". The only thing worse that showing up at the bar dressed like every other trendy wanna-be, special hipster, is showing up on the playground dressed like another mom. Dude. I need a nap. *I am not talking about anyone of special needs. I wish we could come up with a better describing phrase than... well all of the ones that have been known to plague this amazing group of people. If you think or take offense and think I am speaking hurtful about anyone who is living with Down Syndrome or any other genetic condition- well you don't know me at all and you should be slapped. Alright, that's it. Just trying to cleanse my head before I go to bed. Which is empty again tonight because my husband decided at the ripe old age of 14 that he wanted to be a rock n roller. So whatever, he is and I am going to wait for him- again, because he is waiting for me, allegedly.

9.9.09

On the eve of my daughters 2nd birthday I am taken back to the eve of her birth. I guess that's natural, it's heavy tonight though.
That night as I tucked my then 3rd grader in for bed on the night before school and the birth of his little sister, I remember thinking how much I loved being a parent.
I have never really loved doing anything too much to do it too long.
That makes me sound... odd I guess, but that is just the facts.
I liked doing everything once or twice, then I was over it.
Not parenting.
As Eddie and I put the finishing touches on our house that we would leave in hands of my Mother, I remember looking at the bathtub (that I could no longer get into) and thinking about the little girl I would bathe, the new bath toys that would no doubt line the bottom.
I walked up the stairs and thought "how in the hell am I going to go up and down those stairs with a baby, a toddler?". But I do. Everyday.
I thought about the living room and how we would have to make room for dolls and tea sets, something our living room had lived without.
Seeing Quattro's face as an only child, that last time, I had a moment of sadness.
He would no longer be everything to me, he would be one of my children, not my only child.

My life has never been the same since 9.9.09 at 8:16 a.m. Neither has my house.
I walk around and see all the dolls, the tub is full of classic rubber duckies and tomorrow a doll that not only goes into the bath- but she pees.

Macaroons

I was just thinking of the morning we woke up in Bordeaux. We walked across the street near the train and ate at a place called Paul. Eddie got a recommendation from the front desk guy. That's always hit or miss. Sometimes you will ask for a great place to eat or a place for desserts (we ate a LOT of those, can you say gym time?) and the person will just tell you an area, which is fine but if someone asked me where to eat in Ballard, I'd def narrow it down.
Anyway, the place was called Paul and we would have eaten there anyway- just the look of it. It was hectic and there was a line and people were in a rush, getting their morning fix, grabbing their favorite pastry. That's the spot you want to look for when it comes to coffee and sweets, there has to be a line. There needs to be a frenzy.
We had pastries of every kind, Q got a quiche and Eddie got this long yeasty, chocolate thing and coffee of course.
I ordered a pink macaroon to take with us. We made it two hours on the road before Q remembered we had it. It was one of the greatest things I've ever had. Not only that it was beautiful, it was crisp and chewy and my best purchase in France.

Happy.

Quattro ran some errands with me yesterday and while we were ducking in and out of places he said "you seem really happy".
I took that as the best compliment I have ever had. He knows me like no other, he sees me from the inside out. He notices. Eddie of course knows me very well but I think as adults we are distracted by ourselves, life and we know too much of someone's past to really see them for who they are right now. Eddie will always see me a feisty 23 year old, I think, he will no doubt always picture me like that- when we are old. I bet he will have the capacity to go "there" in his head and enjoy me in my youth. That's a good thing.
But my child, my son. He is another creature. He is very much about right now. It might be because he is so young and his perception is nearly 100% good stuff. He has had a very charmed life. But him noticing that I'm happy really made me stop and appreciate this happiness. I've earned it. Triumph is a reality. I'm fucking happy.

Sweet home... Seattle.

It is so good to be home. Those words sound lame compared to how I feel.
Our journey was fantastic and I would not change a thing but there is something about coming home... where you can lay your head in peace. No riots, no planes, no bus, no car, no backstage, no catering. Just us.
As we returned home we were greeted by our loving animals. They missed us so much. I am not sure anyone can fill the shoes for you as a pet owner, they needed a lot of lovin and we are doing just that.
Stella went straight to the groomers. She is a corgi and they shed like there's no tomorrow. The amount of fur that comes off those dogs- seriously, I am glad no one told me, I would have never gotten a corgi had I known. Ignorance is bliss because she is lovely.
Our two cats, Jake and Elwood are at my feet every second. They follow me everywhere, laying in bed with me now.
Little Monkee, or chihuahua, likes that her world has been restored, she likes when the whole family is together.
I'm still too tired to finish up my blog, I feel I need to conclude this thing, as far as the tour goes, and I just don't have the energy to be witty or smart or funny. I need to take a few days and get myself together.
Yesterday was our first day home and we had a lot of clean up to do, had to fill the house with food and go for a bike ride. Last night Eddie and I drank some wine we bought in Bordeaux, France. I drank too much and this morning I have a headache. Worth it though, the wine was superb.
Quattro is already at his friends for a sleepover. He starts school next Wednesday so he is getting in his summer time fun while he can. Eddie is hanging out with the baby, as he goes back out on tour next week as well, leaves the day after the baby turns 2. 9.9.11
More coffee please.

Wagamama!

Sitting backstage in Antwerpen, at the... Twix? Or Trix?
Nice place, cool people.
We had dinner catered tonight, which was nice (usually we opt for a "buy out" meaning "no, don't order/make us food, give us money and we will do our own thing") tonight, we couldn't care less. I don't want a Belgium experience. I don't want to be bummed I'm leaving or see stuff I don't have time to enjoy. I'm just enjoying my family, the backstage and my kids hangin' with the Bellrays. The singer is beautiful. She is whistling and walking around, she seems cool. I didn't meet her yet, I am trying to get our crap organized. We have to unload EVERYTHING in the car and pack it all up, because we are getting in the car at 5 a.m. and heading straight for the airport. Our flight isn't until 2 p.m. but we have to ride a ferry for nearly 2 hours and drive for 2, so we will get our travel on once again but this is the first time in 6 weeks we will be heading somewhere we don't have to unpack!! It's the little things people. I am not glad to be leaving so I don't have to drive all damn day or sleep on a European hotel bed. It's not that I don't want to eat at ANOTHER restaurant, it ain't that I don't want truck stop coffee (sounds bad but in Europe- it is SO good). I'm not glad to get out of fighting with Elvis to eat when we are eating, trying to keep the milk cold (HA!) and the candy for Q to a minimum (way too much candy over here). I am not glad that I won't have to pretend to understand another "foreigner" or try not to feel bad for being a stupid foreigner "do you speak english?". It's not that I am too lazy to walk up all the fucking stairs they have, or sweat and cuss trying to squeeze one toddler, one 10 year old, three rolling luggage, a guitar, a stroller, a purse, two backpacks, a diaper bag AND two full growns. Nope. Its not any of that. To put it as simple as I can, what I am looking forward to the absolute MOST.
Not unpacking a thing, not for at least a week.

The last dance.

This morning I am waking up in Paris. Again.
Yesterday we left Barcelona, Spain and drove our asses off. If you have ever seen a map of this area, you will know, it is not close.
I'm guessing nearly 600 miles.
It was a good drive. There were a lot of kid movies going on in the backseat and good music and conversation in the front.
It was a day off so we were in no hurry to get anywhere. In fact, we had no where special planned to get to. We just drove. We stopped, we drove, we ate- we drove. Around 1 a.m. we knew it was time to pull it over. Elvis was still awake (Quattro had been asleep for hours) and I had a feeling she was not going to go down until we had a cozy spot in a bed for her. She's like that. It's a good thing.
We rolled into Paris and found a hotel. It's a no fills chain, the Ibis. I call it "I bis this will do.". It's not exactly what we love or are use to but at this point, we just want to go home with as much $ as possible and we consider our luxury accommodations card punched. We stayed at the NH in Madrid. It is awesome. In the morning we woke up to a futbol teams bus, tons of polizei, it was quite the scene. Madrid played Zaragoza. Parking in Madird that day was insane, there were cars all over sidewalks and in the middle of streets. Insanity yet somehow it all seemed okay, like not ridiculous- just pleasantly odd.
I was sad to leave Madrid. We didn't get to spend enough time there but we walked along the river or whatever and watched the bats fly around and the fish swim. There was an amazing kids playground (seriously, we need to take playground notes from the Europeans, they do it better, plain and simple) so we of course went to that. Elvis ran around and Quattro made friends. He doesn't speak spanish and they didn't speak english but that doesn't ever seem to matter. Kids are wonderful like that.
I will have to tell you about Barcelona later. I am getting hustled out of here and we need to get to Antwerp, Belgium where Eddie is opening for the Bellrays and I am sad to say that we will not be watching them play, we will be peeling out as soon as Eddie is done. Our hotel is in Calais which is in France. Another 2 hour drive. We then wake up (at 5 a.m.) and jump on a ferry to England and drive to the airport. Seriously. It is hard to wrap my brain around this being over. Sad. Yet so fucking happy to be going home.

Some wacky clowns Elvis and I watched (for too long).


Q waiting in line for the jumpy house. Classic.






My kids in a nutshell.

Bilbao... never wanna go home.

We are in Bilbao Spain today and if you have never been here but have a hankerin' to get out of town- look no further people, I have the town for you.
It is perfection and that is hard to come by.
We showed up today and were greeted by about 20,000 people walking the streets in front of our hotel. There is a massive festival going on and you know, that would normally make me hate a town, but this festival was different. These people are different. They are happy. They are sweet, lovely, kind, generous and the cops even let us go down a closed street, and drive right in front of a stage. Take that Switzerland.
Our hotel is amazing with a jet shower and two balconies facing the center which is where, now, about a million people are walking around. I wish I remembered the name of the event that is taking place because for once it is important.
We were directed by the hotel receptionist to walk down the street and choose any restaurant, she said they are all great. We have heard this before, every day in fact for the last 5 weeks but this time she was right- well either that or I just have a nose for this sort of thing. I saw a place, that looked great and even though all the tables out front (in the adorable alley that was packed with people and people playing instruments, singing and dancing) were dirty, we walked inside and were sat in the back. I like to sit outside but it looked like we had just missed the made rush for dinner. We are always a little later than everyone else, which in this case and many more, was good.
The food was amazing, Basque food is like that. We had marinated artichoke hearts and lobster salad, steak and risotto. I picked out a great bottle of wine, I'm pretty sure there were no bad bottles on the list, that is Spain.
After dinner we walked the streets and made our way back to the hotel, where Eddie hurried me to get out the door. That is a daily (and Daly) occurrence, I need to wash the road off of me, change baby clothes, make sure everyone is packed up- it takes a lot. You may be saying "why doesn't Eddie take care of the kids while you get ready?" well... because he is a man I guess. I'm kidding. Sometimes he is helpful, sometimes I tell him to do this and that but other times it is me getting ready while he is on his phone and telling me to hurry up... then I come out and I'm like "where's the baby's shoes?" "is Quattro's bag packed?". Then there are a lot of "no's" and then 20 minutes later we are out the door. Which to tell you the truth is not that big of deal, I mean, rock n roll is a lot of what we call "hurry up and wait". That is the name of the game. You hurry to make "load in" and then wait around for sound check. You hurry back to the club to hear that the set time is moved back. You just deal with it and over the years Eddie has learned to just deal with me needing some time alone in the bathroom to paint my toenails or take a shower. Even though he relentlessly bugs me to "hurry up!!".
We left the hotel and had to go get the guitar and merch from the car. We were in a pickle with what to do, either drive to the club (more favorite) or walk. Our parking garage closed at 9 p.m. and if you know anything about Spain, you should know that these people stay out LATE! Except, apparently, the parking garages... so either we take the car and then after the show drive around and look for a parking space or we get the shit and hoof it to the club. Luckily it was like a 15 minute walk to the club, by way of the parking garage. Finding parking is usually not a big deal for us, even in the middle of the night with a baby buuuuuut, there are a gazillion people on the street, so I'm guessing parking would not come easy- or ever. And there would most certainly be a ticket, if not a towing on our hands tomorrow. I don't know if you read the Basel post, but homeboy got the shaft in Switzerland, so we are all about following the rules (except for accidently blowing through a red light at 11 p.m. last night pulling into Bordeaux, France.
So we chose to walk. Baby,, stroller, bags, check! Merch, guitar, Oprah, check!- the works. (Oprah is Elvis' baby). We had to walk straight through the madness which drove Eddie crazy, Q and I loved it and Elvis fell asleep. There were freaky street performers, the kind that look like statues and then move. Yuck! Breakdancers, the absolute best I have ever seen! and I have seen a lot.
The club is cool, the staff is nice. That is what I love about Spain, they really care about how you are doing. And throw a 10 year old kid and a baby in the mix, these people really know how to treat people. Why don't I live in Spain? Oh, I will... this is where we will retire. And even though Eddie will never officially retire (ever heard of Willie Nelson?) we will move here when our kids are grown. This is where we will start a new chapter and it might just be in Bilbao. Really, it is that fucking cool.
I"m backstage now. Eddie is playing "Dead Homies". I was walking out to watch the show but I keep getting locked out of the backstage where Elvis is still asleep in her buggy, so I'm staying back here. I am comfortable leaving her back here while I sneak a peek but not if I have to keep getting Q to sneak through the stage door to run around and let me in. I'm a chill Mom, but not ridiculous.
What else? Not much, I mean, I am really just kind of shocked that this trip is almost over
(Eddie is playing "On the Couch"!! I had to run out and risk another lock out but my reentry was a success). I has been nearly 5 weeks and we are home in a week. I am SO excited to get home and yet really sad it is over. We have been planning this trip since the end of last summer.. there's so much work that is involved. It's a bit like Thanksgiving. All the prep, the recipe search, the shopping, the hours of cooking and then BOOM 8 minutes later- it's over. This has been (and felt) like more than 8 minutes but in some ways I wish it could go on forever. I guess it kind of does, so that is why I can go home with a smile on my face and a tear in my pocket. I alway miss the road. Always.
Today Eddie and I made a bet that in 6 months that if he can't do 10 pull ups (and me 5) he has to wear a speedo to the public pool in our neighborhood at family swim time. He hasn't decided what he wants me to do, I'm completely comfortable taking my clothes off (have you seen the cover to his solo records) so he will have to dig deep. He on the other hand is not really a take your clothes off kind of guy, never has been so this should be good. We started talking about it because our friend Jordan got in kick ass shape doing that P90X and he has been talking about it. And I like my body, I would just like to be stronger. I want to know I can kick someones ass in a dark alley, not just feel like I can.
In other boring news, I miss my animals SO damn much. I laid in bed not sleeping (oh, did I forget to say I'm an insomniac? I'm off the sleeping pills on the road for some stupid reason I forgot to pick them up before I left. Which is good and bad. I am happy not to take them every day, I don't like to take anything every day) and thought I felt my cat, Elwood, walking up from the end of the bed like she does every night. She waits about 5 minutes (I'm guessing she is making sure I am really going to bed and I'm not going to get out) and then like clockwork, climbs into bed, sniffs my eyelids and lays down next to me. Awwww, I miss her.
Now I'm going to go since I'm all sad and weepy and to top it off Eddie is playing "Roadworn and Weary".
I was thinking about what to do with this here blog (that I love so much) when I get back home. I tried to keep it going last time but when I got home I just felt like I was way too boring to write about. If anyone has any ideas about an angle I can exploit while I'm not on the road, things that might be interesting to a reader, please tell me because I really do enjoy writing. I am wouldn't care (lying) if 12 people were reading, getting this stuff out there- thinking about in 10-15 years my kids can read about their life as children and my life when I was young and maybe, possibly entertaining a fan or two or a mother or father- I'm cool with that. I'm a writer man, it is what I love to do. I have things pulse through me all day, things I can't wait to get on paper or in this piece of shit computer. I wait and wait until I'm not behind the wheel to get a chance where a tiny girl is not climbing on me, Quattro is tired of playing UNO (our road game from way back) and Eddie doesn't need me to "HURRY UP!", so sit down and empty myself, to rid myself of the words trampling my mind.
Good night people.
Thank you Bilbao.