Ohhhhh, you're supposed to update these things?

It has been a long and winding week. I am happy to have a lot of work that makes me happy. And I had a settlement meeting that means my divorce is actually moving forward. Then there is the exhausting daily blessing of bedtime and stories and Candyland and wiping a runny nose and doing half-ballet/half-stumble moves to navigate over plastic cars and tools and bracelets I thought had disappeared completely as I step out of the shower. Don't forget the phone calls that never get returned and the emails I keep reading and marking as unread so I remember to respond to them and then keep not responding to anyway. Add the thousands of Post-It to-do lists and the packed-full and scratched out and doodled on calendar. Oh, and the facial. Remember how I promised myself a facial months ago?

I know, I know. Get over myself. We're all here on this crowded, mildewy-smelling, over-scheduled boat. All I'm saying is, here are a few things that made me stop worrying about all the rocking back and forth and just enjoy the loveliness on the horizon and all around me, if only for a moment (or post) or two.

This made me teary. And it made me so grateful I know so many women who are so gifted and brilliant and amazing and inspiring.

This made me laugh out loud. And wonder what ever happened to my Miss Piggy lunchbox.

This made me grab my credit card.  At a bridal shower where we made our own custom 1154 Lill bags (shut up if you think you had to be a Trixie in 2001 to have one of these...they are still as killer as ever, baby), I was so entranced by the fabrics I almost couldn't (gasp) design my own bag. Alas, it was these three sumptuous don't-even-think-of-putting-your-preschooler-soy-butter-hands -on-this-masterpiece fabrics that won my heart on a sweet little reversible bag that I swear I will love always. Or at least until my next purse party. The pics don't do the swatches justice...just gorg.

This keeps me up at night. I kid you not. Sure, this show is on MTV and is like watching the goofy guys in the back of your Human Sexuality class in college doodle on the pictures in the textbook. But just like back then, I cannot help myself. I dare you to watch and a) not laugh out loud, b) not wish for a large black man sidekick who calls you "son" and 3) wonder if it would be weird for you to wear one of the Big Black over-sized tees and caps to playgroup. Watch. You'll see.

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Miiiiiisssyyyyyyy!

I was too entranced by Missy Higgins' voice, adorable banter, sweet little gingham shirt dress and delightfully tousled hair to be one of those jackasses who takes a zillion camera phone pics during the show. But I was close, very close to her oohey loveliness -- closer than I used to have to run from my room to Lil E's crib in the middle of the night in our old apartment when he breathed heavy or turned over or did something completely alarming like that in the early days of motherhood -- and she captured me with every song.

Love love love her even more now. Not enough to outspend the ticket price on a t-shirt but certainly enough that I've been singing her songs, laughing to myself about her little stories and trying to figure out a way to get on that big yellow tour bus just to say "EeeeeIthinkyouareACE,MissyHiggins,pleasebemyfriend!" Since I'm sort of preoccupied by other things like...I don't know, raising a child and working and thriving in my new life...these plans may not actually work.

However, I can still convince myself that, despite the lights and what I've heard in almost every single VH1 behind-the-something special, she could, in fact see me when she was looking out at the audience soulfully over the piano.

Right? Probably. Yeah. For sure. Totally for sure.

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Mama needs her time and tunes, y'all

I first met Andrew from Australia when I was a 20-year old fetus camp counselor who cursed the belly I would slay for now and was in love with...well everyone. But back to Andrew. Andrew and I realized very soon that we were rocking a lot of the same cassette tapes in our walkpeople. A kindred music spirit thing grew and soon we were making each other mix tapes of music from our sides of the globe that we didn't just think but knew the other would love. Tapes became CDs just like the long letters and phone calls became quick notes and emails. And still, just when I'm missing music or my friend, something arrives in the mail from Australia and it's always good.

Andrew introduced me to Things of Stone and Wood, John Butler Trio and many, many other amazing bands from Oz. He laughed when I said I was digging that Na-na-nahhh-I'm Tornatalie Imbruglia  song and sent me  a Bernard Fanning album. 

We're not as close anymore. It's hard when you live across so many oceans and your lives take turns from being 20 and singing crazy Christian camp songs (together)to traveling (him) and college (me and then him as well) and jobs (both of us) abroad (him) and across the country (me) and marriage (me) and divorce (also me) and babies (me and soon, him) and surfing the sea (totally him) and saddling the internets (all me).   And yet,  after hearing about all that has been happening in my life  these last months, Andrew did what he knows how to do best in our friendship. He sent me a package of new CDs. And really, it is his own brand of support that makes me smile, helps me center and gets me singing so loud in the car that I can't concentrate on any of my worries at all.

Two years ago, he sent me The Sound of White, a CD by Missy Higgins that I had on repeat for months on the kitchen boombox as I patiently eased Lil E into solid foods and tried desperately to actually cook dinner at night. A few days ago, he sent me a package with four more CDs, and among them, a new one by Missy Higgins. It's been in my laptop on repeat ever since, a different way to listen this time around but sweet all the same.

It was once again good timing because I already had tickets sitting on my dresser to see Missy Higgins tonight. She's on her first American tour and I am going to be there to see this Aussie hammering on a piano and belting out amazing lyrics on one of our stages.

I haven't been to a show in a long time. And I haven't even been out of the house much in the last few months without a child, a bag of Lightning McQueen toys, a sippy cup and the heaviest laptop of all time in tow (no, really, I'm fine. No...really). Tonight, when I have a beer in my hand and am baring my breasts in admiration to Missy's artistry (no no no, I reserve that solely for the Erasure dudes who have no earthly clue what naked ta-tas even are), you know I will be the annoying lady singing along like she's alone in the car. Like she's a mama who doesn't get out nearly enough. Like once this divorce is final, like she's gonna make Missy her rebel bride.

Of course, I'll be raising my glass to Andrew from Australia as well. Without him, and that long-distance music and lyric connection, I wouldn't have this evening to hold on to like I am.

Want to get in on a little of this kindred music spirit? Here's one of my favorite new songs by Missy Higgins (check me out, rocking the YouTube embeds like a madwoman this week...owww). Any song that begins with lyrics about clothes falling off and things rolling off the tongue is worth a listen, mais non?

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