Crying In The Car

I read a blogpost by my friend Linnea over at A Mindful Life LA about befriending negative emotions.  She talked about missing her oldest daughter, and crying in the car.  I wanted to hug her, and pat her on her sweet cheeks.  I kept telling myself though, that I would not let myself relate yet.  I wasn't ready to grieve my growing boy flying the nest yet.  He's still at home.  He still has senior year.  There's just too much to do to get him ready.

There's too much to do to get ME ready.

So I pretended I wasn't there yet.  I am not in the thick of it yet. Because I am made of stone, dammit.

Seriously, though, I used to be someone who cried at every sappy commercial.  I was pretty in touch with all those emotions, and enjoyed getting a little damp in the eyeballs, rolling around in that feeling.  It made me feel alive and connected to the world.

But things got really busy, and really real and life has gotten stressful.  Aging, man. I never thought I'd be THIS much of a grown up.  Where I sweat the small stuff.  But I sweat not only MY small stuff, but everyone else's small stuff AND all the big stuff.  I am SUPER sweaty. And some days I feel about a hundred and twenty years old.

Well, today the dam broke.  My husband and I were in the car, running errands.  We were talking in that distracted, disconnected way that you can when you've been married a long time and no longer have any hormones that force you to notice and delight in each other's every word.  We were heading home, and he had put his music on, and said casually when this song came on, "this really reminds me of the boy.  'fly and don't come down?', 'make thunder when you run'... I mean how he runs?!  with those beautiful feet of his...."

I'd heard this song before, and I knew it made me teary, but I kinda forgot.  I was listening and singing along with him one second, and then next thing I knew I started howling like a banshee... Weeping, singing, laughing.....

It made me realize how much I needed to feel.  How much I needed to release and to stop trying to distract myself from those feelings.

I am pretty glad though, that a) I wasn't driving, and b) that the boy wasn't in the car with us.

He's past the eye-rolling stage, for the most part, but I think it might have freaked him out a bit.

Anyway, here are the lyrics.  Kris Drever is a damn genius with a sad, real song.  And my husband is a damn genius for knowing exactly how to pick the locks on my cold, cold heart.

When The Shouting Is Over

Turn like a wheel
into the road into the next town
Take a drink, but buy your meal
out at the point we wait for tight lines.
Build a wall and make it high.
Don't deny your hungry brothers.
If you dig a well, make it deep
and if it spoils, then dig another.
Remember our faces every day
that you roam.*

Chorus:
When the race is run
and the shouting is all over
come on home **

Plow through the fields
push through the crowds, beg and steal
walk through walls, fill empty halls
stand where the magic meets the real***
fly and don't come down****
unless there's no one there to stop you
Make thunder when you run*****
know there's no one who can top you.
If you're tired
if you're down
We will never drop you**********

Chorus X2

*this is when my throat got really tight
**this made me groan and keen and say OHHHH a bit
***with this line I could picture him standing on the brink of his life, ready to fly, and I could no longer see out of my projectile crying eyeballs
****HELLO he wants to be a pilot and this line made me gasp for air and sob doubled over my seatbelt getting my knees wet with my snot
********full on ugly crying, scaring the other car next to us in traffic because they thought maybe I was crazy and might open my car door on the freeway and roll under the semi behind us.

Lullabies on repeat

Music has always been important to Joe-Henry. When he was a baby, he'd scream and cry on our two hour drive from Grandma's to home because a) we were leaving Disneyland and headed for the bootcamp that was home, or b) the sun was in his eyes and I'd sing "You are my sunshine" over and over the entire ride because the cd player wasn't working and it was the only song I could remember while being screamed at.

It must have been then that putting songs on repeat became the thing that calmed him, because ever since he's wanted to listen to music at night. Not a whole album - that's too distracting,he wants to listen to the same song, over and over. Nothing new to make him stay awake and think, just the same lyrics and melody, like ocean waves, lulling him to his dreams.

Lately he'll grab my old iphone and put a song on repeat. Usually it's a calm, soothing song, something from Alexi Murdoch, say, or Shawn Colvin. But last night, he chose this song. And I found myself staying in his room after he'd gone to sleep, remembering my freshman year in college.

So Cool

Last night, as on many nights, Joe-Henry and I had some iPhone time together. He has my old phone (which was Charley's old phone), and I had my phone, and he played one of his thousand games, and I played Bejeweled Blitz because yes, Mr. & Mrs. Internet America I'm an addict. In the old days, everyone gathered in front of the radio. This is our radio.

Anyway, instead of Madden 10, or Jelly Car, or the horrible and entirely inappropriate New York Nights (another post on it's own, for now I'll tell you that the age guidelines are WRONG), he played me a concert on RealPianopro. It was soothing and beautiful, and even though I have to BEG him to practice piano for reals, he enjoyed making music. Relaxing, creating, entertaining his mom.

I give myself a hard time about not being better at a whole laundry list of things. I don't engage him enough in this or that, I'm not more positive in the way I try to guide him to do things on his own. Don't get me wrong - I'm not laying awake at night beating myself up for this. I think EVERY parent does this to a certain degree. And since I"m in such good company, I sleep pretty soundly most of the time, thankyouverymuch.

He's discovering great music every day too - through games. The last song we downloaded was Little Eva's The Locomotion. He has great taste in music, and I love hearing him sing along. We give him coupons to be turned in for things he wants, and he can spend them any way he wants, but when they're gone, he has to wait until the next time he gets coupons. (Of course, we can "gift" him if we want.)

As we both started to feel tired, he opened up Bloom. I'd seen it once before, Charley had shown it to me a long time ago. But last night was an epiphany. Created by Brian Eno and Peter Chilvers, it's an ambient, interactive music box. It's visually simple but hypnotically beautiful, and sooooooo relaxing. I think it should be a required app if you have trouble sleeping or are under stress. I begged him for a turn, told him to close his eyes and he was asleep within two minutes.

I HATE paying for apps, but this one? Completely worth the 3.99. I think I'll even be able to use it at work. I'm excited to see what the students I work with think of it.

HeadSong Friday: Loves Me Like A Rock

Haven't done HeadSong Friday in a while, but I woke up with this song loud in my head this morning. When JH was little, he's sing this song so loud, and my favorite line he'd misquote, was "She loves me like a rocka pages!".

Saw this a while back on PBS, and loved it. Paul Simon is a National Treasure. And Stevie Wonder?! With the Dixie Hummingbirds?! PERFECTION.



To all you Mama's out there: Go Mama Love!

Time - Tom Waits

Tom Waits is an acquired taste. Luckily, I acquired the taste some time ago, and while I don't play him often, I do play him when I need to feel: to release, dance a goofy dance or cry a river. Kari said this morning that she just discovered him, so I put all my Waits on play, made pancakes, padded around in my pj's while the boys tinkered downstairs. This song came on, and I began to leak from my eyes. Here's to Time - the good and the bad. Love to all.

2010 - Welcome. Bring it.

Looking Forward...

2009 saw so many blessings, and I count them all in my heart, I surely do. But it also brought so much loss. Death, divorce, anger, sorrow... they all payed a visit, as they do every year. As I try to keep in perspective that these things are part of life, and we shall all feel sadness sometime, I can't help but hum along with this song.

My New Year's prayer for all of us.



Be kind, 2010

Summer Memories

At bedtime the other night I was telling Joe-Henry about things I did during the summer when I was a kid. Every summer we'd go to my Aunt & Uncle's cabin at Hayden Lake, ID. It was a one room affair, with beds stashed in the corner, a sink for doing dishes, a pot bellied stove for warmth (an electric range for cooking), and an outhouse. No shower, no phone, a teeny black and white tv that got crappy reception, and every few days we'd drive to get drinking water from a freshwater spring. (The running water for dishes was pumped directly from the lake) At night, I'd fall asleep on the couch, listening to the adults playing poker and laughing at the crazy names they came up with for each new hand. During the day, we'd swim in the lake, get out on the dock and warm up, and get back in the water again. All day long. If it was too cool or too early to swim, I'd hike around the property (by myself!), or walk the dirt road to my other Aunt & Uncles' cabin half a mile away. At lunch time we'd come up and eat tuna sandwiches and Ruffles potato chips on the porch (there were two, which could both be used for accommodating extra sleepers) and listen to the radio. I remember this song playing a lot one summer, and every time it gets uncomfortably hot, I play this song and remember a time when the heat didn't make me crabby.

Small Town America

Growing up in a small town, there were things I couldn't wait to shake off when I left. The gossip for one. I hated the feeling that people just didn't have anything better to do than talk about everyone else. The conformity for another - the most important thing to be was just like everyone else. The older I got, though, I realized that those things happen in the city, too, just on a bigger scale.

So now I'm a grown-up, and by some circuitous route, I wound up back in a small town. I loved the big city, I miss the big city - the pace, the culture, the friends I made there. But I've fallen for the charms of this little burg we call home. I've got some wonderful family here, and friends that I love, and my son is enjoying the charms of a small town - riding his bike around town, playing baseball, and excelling at a public school where everyone knows his name (and not because he's in trouble!).

Yesterday was one of those perfect days. There was a baseball game, first of all.

He's been playing machine pitch baseball this summer and LOVES it. The first three games there are no outs, they don't keep score, and they keep pitching until the kids get a hit. The coaching staff is fantastic, and the emphasis is on learning, teamwork, and most of all, having FUN. It was the second game yesterday, and the thing I love most about watching these kids is that they are all heart. They cheer for each other from their toes, and it's magic to see the looks on their faces when they get a hit, or catch a ball. The field staff always acknowledge a job well done, a good effort and encourage them when they are struggling.

After the game, there was a nap on a big bed by a breezy window, and then we hopped into a car loaded with instruments and headed for Pop Culture, our little mainstreet soda shop hang out for an open mic.

Joe-Henry hasn't performed at an open mic by himself in almost three years. He's going through a serious perfectionist streak, and it's breaking my heart. But he decided he wanted to perform on his yamaha electric piano. He practiced some songs he composed, and he killed. He had his own cheering section - my brother and his girlfriend came, as did two of our good friends. A kid couldn't feel more supported. But it was the rest of the crowd, the ones he didn't know that really made him feel proud. It was a pretty eclectic group of musicians and they all cheered and high-fived him, and his smile couldn't have been bigger when he was done.

Charley performed two of his original songs, too. His songwriting and performing skills are so amazing, and I love hearing him in front of a crowd.

Afterward we stepped outside to see our little mainstreet packed with people watching beautiful vintage cars "cruising the gut".

It was a step back in time, and it made me remember and appreciate all the truly GREAT things about growing up in a small town.

My Other Job

I don't write a lot about my day job here, because I feel funny about it. I have a hard enough time speaking for myself, let alone the kiddos I work with who have a more difficult time speaking at all. Most of the kids I work with have Autism, and many of them are mostly non-verbal. Back in late January we got a new student, a girl. She's "my student", in that I work primarily with her. I help her get through her day, transitioning her from her solitary work station to a few group acitivities, to recess, etc. She'll be twelve in August, and she has the most beautiful, sweet smile you've ever seen. She's a typical "tween" in as much as she doesn't like hearing the word "no". She hums the same three notes when she's agitated, and she's as hormonal as all get out. Poor kid. Hers are coming on, my are leaving, and together we're quite a stew. But she trusts me, and I trust her, and she pulls on my heart and creeps into my thoughts when I'm cooking dinner for my family, and I'm always trying to figure out new ways to help her communicate her frustration without hurting me, or more importantly, herself. We've made some good strides since those first somewhat frantic days. To be honest, I was really sort of scared to work with her because she is nearly as tall as I am, and I know what those hormones are capable of doing, having gone through puberty myself. Granted, it was a long time ago, but I remember distinctly how crazy it made me feel to go from laughing to crying in the space of 10 seconds. Her first days were really intense, but since then, it's calmed down so much. She's a really hard worker, she's great at following her schedule, AND she's just a cool kid. She loves music, and lately has been testing her voice by singing. I think she knows we love it. She won't do it when asked, but when we're not paying close attention, she'll make sure we're within hearing range before she launches into her repertoire.

It began with the "namaste" song from the yoga video we watch almost daily. When I figured out that's what she was singing, I started singing it along with her. She let me (the first time) because I think she knew she had reached me, but since then she doesn't like it so much when I sing along. I get the same thing at home with JH! Everyone's a critic. Anyway, since then, she's expanded to a couple hits from the 80's and hearing her sing them is THE BEST. She has a beautiful voice. She's on pitch, and while she doesn't have the words, she has most of the vowel sounds, and you can definitely tell what she's singing. Early this week, she hopped on the swing in our classroom and started belting out "Don't You Want Me Baby", and yesterday it was "Saved By Zero". The first one is the one she sings the most, and I wake up with it going through my head.

My not-so-secret mission is to take her up to the music room someday and let her play on the keyboard.

In the meantime, over spring break I'm going to make a cd of hits from the '80's and when we get back, there is going to be a dance party in our room.

Tribute

Just watched The 2007 Library of Congress Tribute to Paul Simon, with Joe-Henry cuddled next to me on the couch. It was so amazing to see all his songs covered by people like James Taylor, Marc Anthony, Lyle Lovett and Steven Marley. But a few of my favorites were these: Graceland, which was given a really haunting rendition by Allison Krauss and Jerry Douglas; Diamonds on the Soles of His Shoes sung by Paul Simon himself and Ladysmith Black Mambazo, who totally rocked it and rolled it and kicked it outta the house with their amazing moves.

Here's just a snippet of what must have been the most amazing concert to see live in perhaps the history of the universe. Seriously - all that talent? Singing Paul Simon songs?

The Boxer sung by Shawn Colvin and Allison Krauss

I think this might be one of the best story songs ever written. So mournful and beautiful, and these two ladies brought out the best in it's soulful harmonies. Their voices are perfect together.



The best part of the whole night for me, though, was Bridge Over Troubled Water, sung by Simon AND Garfunkle, and me on the couch, to a sleepy Joe-Henry who told me I had the prettiest voice he had ever heard, right before he went to sleep in my arms.

For someone who used to love getting applause, this was better than a standing ovation.

So I leave you with this. 'Cause I love him like a rock.

We Break from Our Regularly Scheduled Rant...

...to bring you something completely different.

Cleaning house today I was listening to Mark Knopfler, this song came on and it made me so instantly happy. Not because it's a happy song, for it's not. But it's a celebration of an artist, someone I had never even known about until this song. So listen to Mr. Knopfler first, then skip on down and take a listen to his inspiration.



It will lift you up, get you through the weekend, and if it doesn't, if it doesn't even make you tap your foot, just one little bit, I will do your dishes.

Wanderin': For Kari G.

Since Kari G. took me to Neil Diamond last night (metaphorically speaking, of course, I don't want you all to get jealous!), and much mention was made of The Ray Conniff Singers, it set my mind wanderin' a Mighty path. I started thinking about The New Christy Minstrels, and I was outta control from then on.

My brain went from here:



to here:



to (warning: easy now) here.

Happy Sunday all. Have a great week!

Headsong Friday: Willy Was A Whale

Today's headsong is inspired by one of our favorites, Justin Roberts. From the time Joe-Henry was an infant, whenever we ran errands, I'd put in a cd. Someone had suggested "Wee Sing", and I purchased it, then quickly realized that I wanted to tape cinnamon rolls to my ears so I wouldn't have to listen. When Joe-Henry was not even a year old, I picked up Justin's cd Great Big Sun, followed quickly by Yellow Bus. I'd put Joe-Henry in his highchair while I got dinner ready, and he'd rock out. One of his first words, after listening to "In The Car" was "AGAIN!", until he learned how to say "REPEAT!"
To add some icing to the whole deal is Justin and his band genuinely love meeting their little fans. We've been to several concerts and he always remembers Joe-Henry, even though it might have been a few years and many concerts for him. The thing that I love the most about his music is how rich it is. It's not simple little tunes - the orchestration is full and peppy, thanks in part to his collaborator Liam Davis and the amazing Not Ready For Naptime Players, and he doesn't "sing down" because his target audience is smaller than he is. His music is full of imagery, and it makes you want to hear it over and over. And it doesn't hurt that his voice sounds just a little bit like James Taylor.

I love this song in particular because I'm a huge fan of puns, and the visual pun of the Weno sign just makes me giggle. Give it a listen, then head over to his website to check out more of his music.

AGAIN!

HeadSong Friday: Gone, Gone, Gone (Done Moved On)

The bass line here just gets my heart racing, and nothing is cuter than Robert Plant when he does that little run. This collaboration was so exciting in so many ways: two artists from very different genres, both bringing different audiences together, not to mention they both have gorgeous hair.

Heading out this weekend going to my hometown. Taking a long road trip with my sister and Joe-Henry to see my brother, my niece and her baby. I haven't been there in, well, over eight years. Way too long. I'm looking forward to the time with family, and to meeting the newest addition to the clan. So is Joe-Henry - he wants to be a big brother in the worst way, and this is as close as he'll get, I'm afraid, with my withered old eggs.

We'll take cameras and snacks, and you better believe this cd will be on deck.

Have a memorable Memotional Day weekend!

Music, Music, Music

We have been looking for the right sort of lessons for JH for a while now. He seems to have laid down his axe for now, which makes us sad, but we know better than to force him to pick it up again. He will. But we really think that music is his thang, so we've been looking for lessons for a while. He didn't want to take guitar, but he did ask about taking drum lessons. At some point I think we'll honor that, but for the time being, we've settled on piano.

Through his kindergarten teacher, we found a wonderfully talented high schooler who teaches piano lessons for a great price. She's amazing, and has him so eager to learn, and now my favorite part of the day is when we sit at the bench together while he practices. He's already memorized his first piece of music for his recital, "The Hungry Spider", and decided at the last minute that he would do the same piece for his school talent show. He was so nervous for the "audition", but was a little disappointed to find out that it was only his teacher in the room. Not the panel of grim judges with arched-eyebrows that he had prepared for. We don't know if he's in yet, but I guess he did alright, because he tells me his teacher said he was "amazing and fantastic".

I'll let you know how it goes. Hopefully this year, he'll go through with it.

HeadSong Friday: The Be Good Tanyas - The Littlest Birds

This one's for Joe-Henry. He coined the term the other morning when he woke up saying "Mom, I have a Star Wars Headsong going on..."

I loved the term, so I wanted to steal it for the blog. And because he gave me the idea, and because this song reminds me of him everytime I hear it, not only because he is my little bird, but because he thought for the longest time that it was "The Little Ass Birds...", and well, that makes me smile almost as much as the song, I dedicate this first HeadSong Friday post to my sweet little bird.

(Also, I didn't want YOUR first headsong to be a Star Wars Battle Theme - isn't that nice of me?!)

Note To Self

To prevent a repeat of yesterday....

Sunday

It's been an intense week, and I'm out of words for a bit. Well, actually, there's too much to say, and so much I want to write about but can't. I'll just say this: I love my job, but it can be an emotional roller coaster.

Yesterday was spent douching out the basement, moving furniture, trying to make it a better living space. I had to laugh at MM's comment about our living room. Of course I'm taking pictures of the only part of our house that looks decent. Someday, when I'm brave enough to keep it real, I'll take a picture of my desk. Or my kitchen. Or, God Forbid, our catcrap splattered bathroom in the basement. Then again, no. I won't.

But this morning, the sun is out, the skies are miraculously blue, and our dogwood is at the height of it's glory. It called to me to come out and take it's picture, so I did.



As I blinked my eyes, and squinted in the sunlight, I noticed that our Rhododendron had bloomed too....



As I leaned in to snap it's picture, I noticed a lovely scent in the air. Could it be? I followed my nose to the backyard, where I was rewarded with this...



Then I noticed JH's ball, sitting so pretty in the green, green grass, so as I was lining up to take a shot, I felt playful...



Then, uh-oh... What's that I just stepped in with my bare feet?



Whew! It's only mud. That was a close one.

We're off to Oaks Park, for a much deserved treat for the boy. I'll leave you with this:



Happy Sunday to you all!

Days Aren't Long Enough

Fourteen years ago this Earth Day, Richard Nixon died.

And I became Mrs. McQ. It was a small wedding, held in Mr. McQ's parents backyard. I wore a crinkly silk dress that fit in a little tiny bag, and he was so handsome in his seafoam blue suit with jewel colored tie. A small but crucial clutch of friends and family gathered to witness as we pledged that we'd do our best to wake up every day together, and still be married by day's end. We wrote our own vows, and hired someone at the courthouse to come and seal the deal. She was very sweet and sort of large and wore a really purple dress and she cried through most of the ceremony. I thought I'd be the one to blubber through the whole thing, but I was amazingly calm, centered and present. For once. I say this, because Mr. McQ himself will tell you I'm a sap. I cry fairly easily, and I ALWAYS cry at weddings. Luckily, it's something he finds endearing. During Mr. McQ's vows, noisy bi-planes flew overhead, causing everyone to miss his sacred promises (which involved the phrase "whole enchilada"), but I heard them.

After the ceremony, we all walked two blocks to the beach, where everyone bravely crossed the rocky train tracks (including all the women in their heels), as we reenacted the Mr.'s proposal on the log on the bluffs. We'd handed out disposable cameras in lieu of a photographer, because our budget wouldn't allow it, and everyone snapped away. Then we came back and we danced to "Naive Melody" by The Talking Heads. There was cake, miraculously, even though the baker forgot about our wedding. After a frantic call that I didn't know about, he delivered it after the ceremony. As a cost-cutting measure, the Mister's lovely Aunt Fran had agreed to decorate our very basic white cake with fresh flowers, but since it was so late, she just plopped in my sister's bouquet as a topper. Honestly, it looked gorgeous and I never would have been the wiser if, when cutting the cake, we hadn't noticed that it was frozen. There was an inadvertently hilarious toast by my sweet daddy, rest his ever-lovin' soul, and delicious catered food, and more dancing and laughing and hugging.

For the next couple days, we took folks to the airport, and the day after that, we got on the road ourselves for our honeymoon up the California Coast, back to Seattle, and the rest of our lives.

In the intervening years, we've had the normal ups and downs: we've seen a therapist, had a baby, changed careers (for the time being), moved (five times), mourned lost friends and family, celebrated milestones, gained weight (both of us), lost weight (him), gained weight (me), and cleaned up a metric ton of cat poop. And there is no one, not one other person on earth, that I would rather have the depth of that history with.

Fourteen years have gone by like we're caught in some crazy movie, forever on fast forward. I want to just hit the pause button for a few minutes and savor it, but since that isn't possible, I'll do my best to celebrate the perfect imperfection of our days: dishes undone, short tempers, exhaustion, longing, laughter and unspoken deeds of affection.
Oh, and the hot old people s-e-x.

To my friends in the ether: I hope the following song gives your day a lift.
And To My Sweetie, thank you for this life we're building. It's a work in progress, isn't it?
Let's keep at it, and see how it all turns out.

"We'll remember how it was, then begin again because
days are never long enough"

Dangerous Music

When I met my husband, well, when we first spoke, it was doing a job together. We were both actors and were hired to do an industrial for the Pacific Science Center. We'd met before, backstage at a play he had done. I'd gone with my bad boyfriend of the moment, I'd said "hello, good show", and he walked right by me as though he didn't hear me. Turns out, he didn't hear me. So I don't wake him up in the middle of the night to argue about it all these years later. Well, hardly ever.

But on this particular occasion, he was cast as world-weary private dick (insert inevitable joke here), and I was cast as a sexy come-hither scientist (insert blatant disbelief here). I was skinny and had short hair, and had the market cornered on playing spunky orphans (Anne of Green Gables, Plum in Nancy & Plum, and Kit in The Witch of Blackbird Pond), or daffy comic relief maids in British comedies. But sexy? I never got hired for sexy.

We had a blast that day, I recall. My boyfriend had dumped me the day before via telephone from some regional theater job where he had fallen in love with some sexy young actress, and my ego was bruised, but I had mailed off a letter filled with vitriol on my way to this job. Then I walked in the door to see Charley, in a white shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to reveal his beautiful forearms, and a fedora perched on his head, and I was instantly smitten. But it wasn't until later in the afternoon, after we'd gone a few rounds and done a few takes that I realized we were in a room full of people and we were the only people in on our jokes. His humor went right to my core, and it wasn't until then that I realized what I had been sadly lacking in all of my romantic forays: someone who could dish it, and take it, who had a true sense of humor, and someone who was as smart as he was sexy. I seem to recall a producer from the shoot who took me to coffee later, but I couldn't be bothered. He wore pastel argyle socks and tried too hard.

After we wrapped that first evening (that's biz talk for finishing the job), we went down the street to a happening mexican restaurant and got drunk on margaritas. The innuendo was flying, but so was the conversation. I learned that he had just broken up with someone recently too (although I won the prize for, um, recent-ness), and as the evening wore on, I could only think of one thing: I seriously, seriously wanted to kiss him. We finished our drinks, and he walked me to my gigantic old car, and he kissed me long and slow until I was up on the hood. To this day it's an argument about who kissed who first, an argument, I might add, that I always win, because I know (after years of practice) just how to shut him up. Anyway, he followed me home on his motorcycle, and we spent the rest of the night, and pretty much the rest of the spring and summer, finding new ways to annoy my neighbors.

When I think of that time, I think of us on a motorcycle, fresh oysters, cold beer, baseball & concerts on the pier. We saw
Lyle Lovett and his Large Band, and Shawn Colvin with Richard Thompson. And like all lovers, we had a song. It spoke of who we were then, or at least who we thought we were, who we thought we wanted to be. Mysterious, dark, somewhat dangerous. I can't hear this song without feeling the breeze off Puget Sound ruffling my faded cotton blouse, his leg pressed next to mine, the anticipation of his kisses. He swept me off my feet, and my life has never been the same. Now we're almost twenty years older, we're heavier, grayer and more responsible, but when I hear this song, I am 29 again, Red Molly on the back of his Vincent '52.