MoMoMasters

Dodging Bullets and Keeping Promises

2010-06-13T22:06:00.000-07:00

It was not as if there were any other way. If there had been another way, that would have most assuredly been the preferred way, but in this case - there was but one way to make this right.

The journey on foot, from Howard, KS to Wichita, KS is (according to Google) only about 73 miles and that didn't seem like an unreasonable adventure on this particular day. Everybody knows that the pioneers used to knock out those short distances with alarming frequency, and clearly it didn't kill them.
There was no shortage of generous offers from friends willing to donate the better part of their work days to drive all the way there and all the way back. But, an incredible strong will and tenacity combined with a whole pant-load of false pride made any such requests quickly out of the question.

At noon on a Wednesday in June, in full sun with unbearable humidity and a 50 pound backpack on her back, she dispensed hugs and kisses and hoped that she had been appropriately grateful for the kindness she'd been shown - she took off. She thanked herself for her smart and sensible shoes within the first 5 miles.

Two hours of straight roads offering no shade and few vehicles passing by made the travel less than delicious, but at least it wasn't one of the big main roads populated with 18-wheelers nearly blowing her off the road with their speed and weight. She walked faster than usual (which was really pretty fast to begin with) and she never held out her thumb to ask for a ride. It could be illegal and the last thing she needed was some of that special Time Out activity in a police station.

So, she moved fast and looked straight ahead, continually attempting to beat her last best time for how long it took her to walk a mile. She was getting faster in spite of the elements.

Clearly, she needed a walk. She needed to sweat and think. And a couple times she needed to barf on the side of the road. She had also made a promise that she had no intentions of not honoring. Her life-long personal history of being on the receiving end of broken promises had turned this into a mission from God (whom she wasn't even all that sure she was still buying into at the time.)

Three hours into the walk, a really nice, newer model and great big ol' SUV went by, slowed down, pulled a U-turn and came up slowly beside her. She was no idiot and had heard more than a zillion stories of bad things that can happen to girl hitch-hikers, and she was not that kind of girl. She wasn't hitch-hiking: She was just walking. She picked up her pace and didn't look over.

They rolled down the window and a very nice woman in the back seat said, "Hey! Are you going this way?" She stopped then just to laugh out loud and make eye contact with this voice. She kind-of thought it was obvious that she was going "This way" as she had been power-walking exactly in the direction of "This way" as fast as her incredibly powerful gams would let her. Within about a minute she had buckled into the backseat of a sweetly air-conditioned car with 4 really nice people in it.

There were three sisters and one husband. They were on their way to one of their other sister's homes to meet some more sisters. They had a huge family apparently. They offered her water and a towel to wipe some of the glow off her face. They made small talk and treated her exceptionally well for about an hour. Then it was time for them to take their turn where she needed to keep going straight.

She walked for another couple hours, made some great progress, kept improving her time and was probably losing about 2 pounds every half hour. It was a win-win as far as she could tell. She'd been wanting to lose about 20 pounds since winter AND she was getting closer to her destination. There was never one iota of doubt that she would not be able to do what she'd promised she'd do and she'd be on time. She may have been a little OCD about not only doing what she said she'd do, but also doing it on time.

She had no idea how long she walked for this next stretch, but it felt longer than the last one. It could have just been the heat or the weight of her bag, but the day was growing long and she had started contemplating just laying down on the side of the road so maybe somebody would call an ambulance and she could make the rest of her journey flat on her back in an air-conditioned and fast moving vehicle. She thought that if she got lucky, she may have even gotten a handsome and compassionate EMT who would be nice to her.

Right at about the time she hit the most risky part of her trip (4 lane highways with 65mph speed limits) a one-ton Dodge Dooley with gigantic Harley Davidson bumper stickers on the back windows went by, slowed down, turned around and came up slowly beside her. She thought about taking off in a sprint, but her knees were not being cooperative.

Again, the window rolls down and a voice (could have been a man or a woman) said, "HEY! Are you going this way?" Again, with the "This way" thing. She started to laugh a little too maniacally while she thought, "Seriously? You are SERIOUSLY going to ask me if I am going This Way?!?!" How much more clear could it be, really? Was it rocket science to figure out that a really sunburned girl, all by herself, on what was now a big highway nearing the largest town in Kansas, walking as fast as her legs would carry her was, indeed, going "THIS way?"

She looked over at the driver and had a huge wave of understanding androgyny sweep over her. She really could not have told you, at gun-point, whether this was a man or a woman. In this case, there was just as great a chance that this person was a serial killer as not. But, she had started to doubt her abilities and wasn't absolutely certain she could make it on time, so she said, "Sure. Yea. I AM going this way."

The driver motioned for her to jump in and as she approached the truck, she realized that it was literally (and I'm serious here, NO hyperbole) all the way full of shit from the passenger side window to the elbows of the driver. Jumping around on top of this vast collection were three really wound-up Chihuahuas. As she reached for the door, the driver started screaming, "Don't LET THE DOGS OUT! Goddddamit, they'll be dead in a heartbeat on this highway!!!!"

It was too late to decline the kind offer and just too much to even consider how this was going to work out for all the mammals involved. The driver herded the dogs onto her lap and said, "Just jump in! Don't let any of that shit fall out! I'm going to need all of it!" And, in spite of the odds of it happening, she managed to get into the cab of the truck and park on top of about 13 inches of crap. None of the extra special "shit" fell out of the truck in the process. The dogs calmed down and the truck took off at a crawl.

"Yea, I know it's slow, but I think I've got a blown head gasket. This bitch won't go more than 35mph."

Awesomeness. Just freaking great awesomeness.

The driver turned to her, held out her hand and said, "Well, howdy! It's good to meet you! My name is Rebeccah and I'm not gay." It seemed that the only appropriate response was to take and shake that hand and say, "Howdy. My name is Meadow Lynne and I'm not gay either."

The next 20 minutes were spent in Rebeccah explaining that she was now going to take her new rider to a town called Buffalo, somewhere in BFE Kansas. She said that she needed help, Meadow looked strong as an ox and she paid $8 an hour and would provide a single-wide mobile home to live in. It didn't have any indoor plumbing or electricity, but if we Googled it she was sure that could be turned around within a month or two.

The traveling Gods were smiling on her pretty quick here and as the driver went to take a turn (which would have actually made the journey a little quicker and shorter) Meadow said, "Oh yea... OMG! I just remembered! I need to get out NOW! I have this other place I have to be to before the other place and it's not in this direction!"

The driver complied and Meadow jumped out faster than any human has ever jumped out of an almost stopped truck. She was warmly thankful for the ride and went as quick as she could in a direction that she knew this truck couldn't go. Logistical decisions had been made and this was a highway. There would be no turning around for the truck with it's non-gay driver.

It wasn't more than two hours later when she had reached her destination and got to move on to a more conventional mode of travel that didn't involve most of what this one day did.

In the end, she got to where she had to be, got there on time and did what she promised to do. And, when all was said and done, she'd figured out enough to change the course of her story. Then she set about to live happily ever after.

copyright 2010 moemasters

Memorial Day

2010-05-22T17:05:00.000-07:00

To say that she was unamused would be a grievous understatement. It was freaking freezing and she'd read all the magazines. Jane had checked in and met all of her obligations.
This current stop along the way, in another hospital and another ICU waiting room, was just not a part of how she thought it would have all played out. They were on Day 5 of the waiting game. They had been eating crap-food for close to 2 months, hadn't slept well for even longer, and it was a physical impossibility to get comfortable.
She was joined in her vigil by the woman who either was, or was not, her father's wife. And, with all due respect: She was bat-shit crazy. Always had been. She was absolutely kind, big-hearted and pixie-ish, too - but, you didn't want to piss her off. She could hop up on your chest while you were asleep, brandishing a machete and speaking in tongues.

Redheads, whatchoo gonna do?

Crazy woman and Jane's father fell in love in high school, went their separate ways for 30 years and then got together to reconsider it. They got together about every 3 years, as near as anyone could tell. They got divorced a couple times, had fantabulous and elaborate re-marriages, traveled the world and engaged in a brand of hillbilly warfare only known to the True Hillbilly. They fought and loved with extreme prejudice.
She was also a nun. Or not. The lack of verifiable information in this story (in this entire family, for that matter) is much greater than the wealth of it.
Jane and The Nun had a long rich history full of things that are best told in person, so you don't miss the inflection - it's critical to the telling of these stories. Suffice to say, nobody was incarcerated for very long and nobody died.
The 36 hours that preceded this one were some of the longest ever in the history of time. Her father had coded so many times that it was no longer possible to keep count. He'd been in the throes of severe dementia for 4 days and had caught infections from the incision that appeared to run from his heel to his shoulder. He hadn't remembered her name for about a month and he called her My Little Buddy.

HIS little buddy was technically her younger brother who was mostly unavoidably detained for most of this fun. And, regardless of how many times she heard herself say that it was no big deal that he couldn't remember her name (in spite of the fact that she seemed to be the only one constantly available to run damage control) it mattered.

All of this silliness just percolated and grew as she sat in that freezing waiting room for way too many days. She began crocheting hats for the oncology floor - because she had gotten to know the nurses there. The longer she went without food and without sleep, the more knots she tied - the more impervious she became.
She stopped counting things like stitches and hours and code blues. She paid no mind to calendars and clocks.
The Nun, who either was or wasn't her step-mother, kept telling stories. The endless (and, seriously - this from a girl who can marathon-talk like none other) prattling on and on about anything and everything was roughly 10 cc's away a from homicide or a suicide or some other ...cide.

Jane looked at the beautiful, completely white haired and radiant (crazy) woman and imagined wrapping her hands around her throat. It was really a pretty skinny little throat. She'd seen people do it on TV and had read about it. She started to wonder if she had what it takes to do that.
She sat and stared without listening to a word for just barely long enough to recollect. She set down her yarn, stood up and stretched. She was holding her arms open in a big old to-the-stars stretch when the door right in front of her busted open with a sobbing couple.

They had clearly been at The Lake. It was Memorial Day weekend and it was not difficult to spot the campers and lake-dwellers in the Midwest. They had on tank-tops and flip flops and shorts or swimsuits. They had obviously been crying for a long time. Their faces were all puffed up and they had that look of absolute desperation. You wouldn't know that look unless you've spent some time in an ICU (or Pediatric) waiting room.
Their hair was a mess.
Since they were standing right there, just like that, at that very moment in time- they sort-of fell into Jane's arms. The hug that resulted was strong enough to move mountains and launch tsunamis. There wasn't enough time to savor much of that moment, however, because the door swung open and another couple pushed through in the same shape.

Then there was a grandmother and her daughter towing some shorties who had fallen asleep on the drive in. Then somebody clearly left the gates open because the waiting room filled to beyond capacity within half an hour.

In the waiting room, people typically tend to at least try and keep their shit together. This room was no exception. Everyone settled into a bizarre cacophony of suppressed sobs and labored breaths.

Turns out that almost everyone in the room didn't know if their child was alive or dead. They all had a teen-aged child who had left on a church mission trip in one of those 14-passenger vans. Something had gone horribly, horribly wrong and there was a wreck with a semi on I-70.
Seriously, when you've actually raised a child to teen-aged-ness - you start to stop worrying so much. This kind of blow is crippling on so many levels.

It was freezing freaking cold in that waiting room and it didn't take long for the adrenaline and endorphins to wear off. The lack of food and the spent emotions could be heard in the chattering teeth and hiccups.
Jane forgot about The Nun for months.

Privacy in the Wild West: Personal Branding

2010-05-08T01:30:00.000-07:00

Almost every day lately, there is a new and alarming post, from a trusted source, illustrating how much of our privacy we have lost. That's just nutty - to have lost it, we would have had to have it first.

You can't lose what you never had.
Nothing on here is private. This is the Internet, Cowboy! This is more of a Wild West than the actual Wild West was a Wild West - we're smarter now and we brought bigger guns and craftier ninjas.
Understanding and respecting that is the first step to making sure you have a good Personal Brand. yea. That's some craziness, huh? We have to mind our Personal Brands, for real?
Yep. It's time to move on past the whole lack of privacy wah-party and graduate to what we can do to make it better. Given the easy availability of personal information on the Internet we now live in a world where anybody (friends, mates, family, employers, government agencies...) with good digits can and probably will Google you to see what you've been up to.
If you allow yourself the occasional drunk-booking (facebooking after cocktails) and wake up with a Sharpee mustache on your face, you'll get over it.
But, if a quick snapshot of your activities online yield habitual patterns of nastiness, unpleasantly regrettable photographs and other unsightly and not delicious things, you probably need to re-think your strategy.
Since you know it's not private and there's a really good chance people are learning all about you without even getting to know you in person - tend to that.
Make sure you like the photographs of you that have your name on them. Clean up any copy that you may have written and tune it till it's tight and follows all the rules of convention. A good online Personal Brand is as valuable as a good handshake and a sincere smile in person. Be happy and positive.
You are brave and funny and smart and strong, all you have to do is make sure that much is apparent.

You Make Me Wanna Be a Better Writer

2010-04-27T06:56:00.000-07:00

We have evolved into humans who need connection.
In a perfect world, everybody would have a biological family who has known them from birth, and then ascending layers of chosen extended family. Every single one of these people represents some level of accountability in ourselves, in who we are.
As we grow up and the populations of both camps decline (both through attrition and death) we lose a little bit of ourselves with each departure. We then recover and go on to love another day. It's like we never learn.
In just watching people and reluctantly playing among them over the last decade, I've built a pretty tight theory on how being connected to people helps make us better people.
We have to be connected.
It's just the way we've evolved, we can't help it.
It's one of the most over-used movie lines ever, but when Jack Nicholson said "You make me want to be a better man" he was pretty much speaking a Universal Truth. Anybody and everybody we love should make us want to be a better person. That's the way love works. It's cool that way.
Maybe that's how you know it's love.
It won't always bowl you all the way over, but you'll know it when you feel it. It's a many-faceted and seriously unreasonable thing that will leave you feeling a little bigger, braver...taller and stronger. Less alone - proportionate to the people on your island.
Conversely, it's absence leaves holes of varying size.
Yea, sorry the whole conversely part sucks out loud.
I swear!
I stand by this theory.
I can see it like it's a cartoon!
All of these unspoken expectations, pokes, phone calls, pieces of mail ... All of this keeps us tethered and woven into some identifiable piece of fabric. These are constant reminders that we are alive and there is somebody else out there who gets us and knows us and loves us anyways.
If you love somebody, let them know. (sometimes you will also have to let them go, but we'll save that for later) Shower the people you love with love. See your people in person and hug them, even if it proves to be an arduous journey to do so. There is no time like the present, people have a way of leaving unexpectedly.
And, as always: Call your mother.
If you don't have a mother, call your aunt.

copyright 2010 momomasters

Scrambling Grog

2010-04-16T13:55:00.000-07:00

I've been in that cave for soooo long.
I must yawn and stretch and put on some kind of killer Free Trade coffee.
Something Groggy. Wow.
Everything's turned green. Somebody needs to mow this lawn. Did you bring in the paper?
Oh yea. I date myself with that question. That's telling.
I don't feel that old.
My hips?
Oh yea, they are probably twice that old. But, as for the whole unit? Not that old. Really. I can still scramble up the banks and go 40 limbs up in a heartbeat. I climb trees, I hitch-hike and I fall for anybody who can write a decent love letter.
It's like I never learned anything AND I get to be this much older. How cool is that?
I'm just stretching here.
Do you want to go for a walk?
I'll tell you a story.
mmmkay?

Winter: Blogishness/PIONEERS

2010-01-20T18:38:00.000-08:00

I have missed you so much.
It's cold.
We've had Pea-Soup Fog for 8 days.
Every day.
When we look out front it looks just like the the most final and ever-so-tragic times of the Titanic.
Gray. Cold. Chunky filthy dirty ice.
Horizons full of water .... indeterminate depth....
There is the constant feint whine of coal trains pushing their freight through.
It's cold. I can see my breath.
It sucks.
I've served up every bit of meat and cheese that I've got.
We're almost out of toilet paper.
We haven't had paper towels or dark chocolate for 4 days.
I'm not sure that we can go on...
I wonder if this is how the Pioneers felt.
This place is filthy. I'm not about to mop.

Send reinforcements.
Gasping..... Forrrr.....
ssssss.....some..... ssss ....
sunsssshine...

I Just Wanna Thank You. Thank You.

2009-11-14T17:16:00.000-08:00

I know you've got a lot going on, but I just had to drop in and say thanks. So much about you has made me unbelievably happy lately.
It's fall too and that helps with the General Cheer Factor. But, seriously - you are amazing and awesome. You make me smile from a thousand miles away. I remember you.
Thanks for thinking of me - ever. That shit goes a long ways towards keeping me balanced and happy. Thanks for sending me random, unsolicited compliments.
For. REAL.
That probably weighs as much as a back tickle on the Emotional Bliss Scale. Every compliment you squeeze my way undoes about 10 unpleasant strangers on the phone.
Thanks for holding me (and you) to standards that extend past mouth-breathing and knuckle-dragging. I expect a lot out of me and you. Thanks for helping keep my disappointment at bay. You do great work.
Thanks for the hugs. These hugs mean business. Life is so freaking short. Find me ANY one single person who couldn't use more hugs. These hugs are making my time here a lot more real and meaningful. You so rock.
Thanks for jacking with me and testing the true limits of my gullibility. I can completely lose track of the time-space continuum when I'm in a project - I will believe most anything. I'm glad you know that and can mess with me relentlessly. You wouldn't really be able to jack with me if you didn't care, right?
Thanks for not telling me things that would be destructive to the delicate Ph balance known as my Sense of Self. You'll never know how cool it is that you don't agree with me when I tell you I'm having a horrible awful bad hair day. Please never agree. Apparently I may never outgrow this flaw in my fabric. I appreciate your devotion to my flawed cause. copyright2009

I Am Your Grandmother

2009-10-29T17:23:00.000-07:00

When I was little, my grandmother (Momo. They were ALL Momos) was a highly revered, sometimes feared and always respected woman of a strong presence.
I am now a grandmother and I don't feel like what I thought my Momo felt like. She was so old, even then. My Momo scared me and loved well beyond reason. When she wasn't looking she taught me all about Love Letters.
She was, like, Jackie Kennedy's mom old.
She was old. For.real.
And, then there was my mom. She lived through the depression. She grew up in the Strawberry Hill section of Kansas City. She was the daughter of an insurance salesman and a full-time, old-school saint of a mother. More Lace-Curtain Irish than not.
They were Uber-Catholics. Momo played piano by ear and Papa Leo sang with his brothers in a barbershop quartet. They lived a version of reality that I don't think you could imagine. There were late nights full of 3 part harmony and slamming doors. Screaming sisters and not enough milk.
My mom and all her sisters had their hair permed by hooking up jumper cables to the chandeliers in the dining room. When somebody got physically broke or tore up, they sent one of the girls across the alley to get the doctor.
This Irish-Catholic Matriarchy is not what I would have ordered off the menu, but - it's what I've got and I'm all about my Momo now.
My Momo probably saved my teeny weeny life a time or two, but everyone who could validate this has already moved along. I can't go anywhere and research this, but I've been told. She was my Momo.
Now I am a Grandma. A Momo. I don't look like a Momo.
Wow. I so really did not think I'd live this long. There's this deal about being a musician. When you're playing live, you don't ever want to follow somebody who is way way better than you.
The deal about being a Momo is that ....
...well. Damn.
The bar is set so high.
The Momos before me have set precedent.
I'm pretty sure I can.
I'll Google it.

NO sale. No Sale.

2009-10-01T18:52:00.000-07:00

One time a long time ago, I was with Bryanmasters (that's just what we always called him) and we went into Zelmans (I think it is, there on Douglas by what used to be Panama Reds.)
It was before a job at Reds and we were just killing time. We were both talking about how we'd never actually seen anyone shop at that store and admiring the attention to detail that had been paid to the front windows. In 1956. Picked over and thinned out by people we'd never seen buying things we couldn't imagine anybody actually using.
Mrs. Zelman walked up as we were admiring and we asked if we could go in. She looked at us like we had parrots on our heads and said, "Y'nevah buy anything," as she was reaching for her key and unlocking the front door.
Mrs. Zelman is as much a Wichita institution as Century II (or she used to be, I haven't been there much in 10 years or so.) The story I've been told is that she and Mr. Zelman were captives in one of the Nazi camps and she always carried a bar of that soap. She never drove and always took the bus and walked EVERY where.
For real.
She had to be 83 the night she shadowed us in her store.
She followed us for a good 15 minutes muttering, "Y'nevah gonna buy anything..." Then we'd move on to another item and she'd kinda bark "NO SALE! no sale."
She was relentless. She said "NO sale" like, 36 times in a handful of minutes. This happened for the duration of our visit.
We didn't buy anything simply because we just couldn't justify buying anything (probably.) And we probably had a house full of kids and no money.
Well, that AND she kept saying "NO SALE." I still feel kinda bad about not stimulating her economy.
So, if you're in Wichita and anywhere near downtown AND by some miracle of feistiness Mrs. Zelman is still alive and torturing shoppers - you must go in and buy something.
Then scoot down to the Donut Whole and have a maple-bacon donut or two.
Both of these things will make me feel better.
Go me.

Bluegrass Calendar: Monarchs

2009-09-04T09:39:00.000-07:00

Up here in the NE corner of the state, it's full-on autumn.
It's gotten down in to the 40s on some nights. And, it's still (really) just the first of September. Down south (Winfield way) it's about time to start seeing the first of the Monarchs that come through as the Fall harbingers.
Blankets. Big orange moons. North breezes.
That smell (what is that smell? I've always imagined it's a special Kansas thing that is the combination of clovers and smooshed grains and soybeans and ripe humans wearing patchoulil and just a hint of skunk. Mmmm skunk.)
One of my first mass-monacrhings came on an adventure down to the Bluegrass Festival, it was probably early September (and yea, probably half a million years ago). I had my first VW bus (the '71 tan and white one with big letters all over it). John Byers (To this day the best and only VW mechanic any human should ever pick for their team) and about 8 other friends in three other VWs were in one caravan headed south for Winfield.
Somebody's car messed up. I can't remember the details which tells me it was probably mine. We all pulled over and a few hundred yards down on a dirt road lined with over-ripe something (it had started to go brown) we stopped and all got out and mingled.
These occasions of cars breaking down when you're in caravan are seen more as social bonding opportunities more than traveling frustrations. We were deciding what to do next, and probably knee-deep in a Safety Meeting when about 38 bazillion Monarchs descended upon us.
I used to have a picture of John Byers, just about two feet away from me, with butterflies on the rims of his glasses and his baseball cap and shoulders.
The world behind him was mostly orange.
You could hear all their bazillions of wings flapping and making a sound that was like a weak, but very healthy, teeny weeny generator...
For real.
I swear this happened.
It's always made me think that this particular time of year means that soon I'll smell camp-fires. I'll sleep where I fall and wake to strangers bringing me coffee and aspirin.
Don't know that I'll be there in person for this year's fiesta, but I know that the Monarchs up here are just starting to come through and it smells fantastic.

The Bluegrass Festival Calendar

2009-08-10T19:58:00.000-07:00

Every single full moon lately has hopped off the horizon with that neon-orange glow that I have come to expect during harvest. The monarchs are packing their bags and every single shorty I know has a backpack full of cool way wicked awesome new # 2 pencils and Elmer's glue.
The sweet corn has come and gone and the avocados are no longer that good for the eating. The days have gotten shorter. The mornings have the first blush of a nip. For real. Step outside about 5am sometime this week.
I love it when there's a season just right around the corner.
I get this nutty fine clean energy. Almost autumn and you should know where your socks are. I love it when it's time to build fires. I love not being able to sleep because they said we were "gonna get a foot of snow."
Seriously.
Way more cool than I can do justice to.
It's almost autumn here. Almost Bluegrass. My personal calendar has been set to "Bluegrass" for just about 30 years.
Just for the record: I suck as guitarists go, and I'm A-OK with that, I will readily admit it and I'm sorry. I am, however, probably the most underpaid Cheerleader ever (IN THE HISTORY OF TIME!) (That gross exaggeration tossed in for my kids: To keep it fresh.) I know a million songs and I can fake my way through about another million (IF I haven't indulged in fruity girl drinks prior to playing).
That alone does not a good guitar player make.
All things being equal and that being said yada yada yada. Who'd a thunk it? It's the coolest place I've ever been in my life and it's, like, a half hour outta Ta-town. yea.
Not Germany or France or Ireland or Scotland. Nope Kansas.
It's an amazing thing to see and experience...
Ooohhh, the things you will see...
The people telling stories to friends they haven't seen in ages. The fire pits dug half way down to China. Food. Oh.my.god. The food seriously defies description.
First off: There is Everything (I shit you not. I have seen bear, whole pigs, goat, gohpers, snake, fish of every make and model, vegan feasts, psychotropic appetizers. You name it - it's there.)
Second: There is way way more than every one in camp could eat in one night.
Third: Never forget the Karma thang - do unto others, blah blah blah...wash your own eating utensils...
I know you know what I mean. Bring presents. Represent.
I've got some serious freakin callouses on my left fingers, and my timing only sucks half as much as it used to. And, I do know the entire John Prine library...
I'm jus'sayin.
I feel it coming, I smell fires built of pecan and walnut. And eggs.mmmmm....eggs.....
Aaaahhhh.....
Too many stories, and you kids need to get to bed before your father gets home. Run along now. I'll tell you more tomorrow...

Belonging

2009-07-04T22:21:00.000-07:00

I have fully developed my most recent theory,
Theory Number 1503:
Belonging and Why People Are Happier When They're Hanging With Their Posse (or their country or state or band or class or family.)
I've found myself being all proud and patriotic today, since it's Independence day and whatnot. I'm glad to be an American. I believe in the possibilities that come with living here. In other countries I was called "That American Girl" or "America" and I completely dug it. I was part of something much bigger than just me.
Safety in numbers.
And, yea, I know - I smack talked our elected leaders for the better part of 10 years, but I'm over it. I'm being the Change.
Dial that down a notch, and all over America (as some point in the last few years) people who hadn't quite remembered my name would call me "Kansas." I'm fine with that. Kansas is big and generally nice and chill. Sadly, also a little judged by the whole uptight, haaaaard right conservative way it shows up on the radar. I'm okay with that only because I know that is no real indication of my team.
(Kansas being that team - in case I lost you.)
Look even closer and I'm a musician, an artist and a writer. Oh yea. This could be one of my most favorite places to belong, seriously. This is one huge and constantly growing group of good, alive, diverse, stimulating, over-caffeinated and outside the box people.
In spite of having probably taken them for granted for a bit now, I really need my love bunch. I am related by blood to some of them, and by honor and love to others, but without them I lose my definition. My edges get all blurry and I don't make much eye contact or offer quality hugs. Without this part of who I am, I cease to be who it is that I am.
At the Solstice Party in Kansas City a couple weeks ago I hung with a bunch of people I had never met. Even though I wasn't a due-paying member of their posse, I caught the vibe and had a blast. I belonged there just long enough to remember what it was that I needed.
Then I realized that I've got it.
It's a good day to be me.

Stella Yellin Non-Get-Alongs

2009-06-16T21:54:00.001-07:00

For about as long as I can remember I have attended the Walnut Valley Bluegrass Festival in Winfield, Kansas for most of the months of September.

It's been years now since I attended but I still have a completely romanticized warm and fuzzy feeling about it.
One of my very first years there I came upon a camp of musicians who were in the newspaper industry and from Joplin, Missouri. Among them was a man named Jim Moss.
While most of that festival in particular remains something of a blur, I have been having really vivid memories of the time he shared with me and the key to the John Prine universe that he unlocked.
He taught me a huge chunk of the songs that I'm still playing today. I can play those songs (and have) with almost anyone, almost anywhere - and I find people to sing along and play amazing leads and share stories, food and drink till well past sunrise.
I don't know where Jim Moss is anymore (although I suspect he's still somewhere near Joplin) and I doubt I'll ever be able to thank him for the gift he gave me ~ But, almost every day I play something that he either taught me or showed me that I could learn and, for that, I'm grateful.
If you are one of the thousands that saves up your precious vacation time for those moments in the Pecan Grove, just yell "Stellllllllllla" for me sometime around 4am and then start singing "That's The Way That The World Goes Round."
I think you've only got about 100 more days to build a plan that involves that request.

Life in The Slow Lane

2009-06-10T20:10:00.000-07:00

The town I'm calling home now smells of sweet honeysuckle from one end to the other. I see more tractors and pick-ups every day then I ever see cars. There is absolutely NO ethnic diversity and I think it's reasonable to assume that everyone I meet is related to someone else I've already met.
I have yet to see a kid wearing a helmet or protective gear on their bicycles as they ride down the middle of the "busy" street (busy in this case being defined by the fact that there are TWO whole stop signs.)
I haven't seen this many men sporting mullets since sometime around 1982. On any given night I can walk around and smell fried chicken, roasting brats and the occasional whiff of sulfur from some precipitous bottle rocket fights.
The sum total of today's 18 hours passed like minutes. We talked about sustainable hardwoods and opportunity costs. We shared stories and took hours to eat half a sandwich.
I thought about all the Twitters I'm keeping, the blogs that are maybe days overdue and the social networks that either do or don't need to be tended to. I weeded the flower beds and played catch with the Lab. I wrote. I researched. I organized and alphabetized. I made and broke deadlines.
I good vibed my grown children and their partners and babies and dogs. I offered up little prayers even though I'm no longer a disciple of organized religion.
I talked endless smack to and about my computer.
Today was one of the sweetest slices of magic I've known in a very long time. I laughed and I cried and I laughed till I cried. I'm in love with this life. In spite of knowing that all things will change and there will be some wicked bad days, I'm finally free enough to bliss out completely and love the moments that come and go so freely. And, in so doing, I'm glad you're here because this moment rocks.

Breaking The Rules

2009-06-04T19:33:00.000-07:00

I've always been a big fan of breaking the rules.
At some point I chose to say, "Drain the break fluid and drive 100!" instead of "Have fun storming the castle," or "Be careful and call me if you're going to be late."
I've participated in illegal activities since I was able to walk (it was all in the training...years and years of practice).
Today I remembered that my grandfather taught me how to make "Jailhouse Gin" (he spent most of his life, and therefore certainly most of MY life incarcerated in a federal penitentiary) when I was way too young to even know what gin was. That was the same weekend that he taught me how to play poker and run a line across the Missouri river to catch fish so I wouldn't starve to death.
Y'know, priorities were just different back then. We didn't EVER wear helmets or elbow pads when we rode our bikes. My parents smoked Kent cigarettes like fiends in the car while we rode on the back dash all the way up to Topeka every other weekend. They never rolled down the windows.
Ever. NOT once.
My mom told me that the Flint Hills were all just a huge cemetery for giants, buried long before we were born, and that's why the grass was so green and the hills so attractive.
Blood and scabs and ropes and splinters were just a small fraction of the stuff that went into building our character. Almost nobody got busted for anything - from child abuse to tax evasion and felonious contraband.
We all had an errant uncle living with us. Good Catholics went to confession on Saturdays, received communion on Sundays and nobody was gay.
All the phones were rotary dials, the internet was far from even being a twinkle in somebody's eyes and we could go to the drive-in on Saturdays if mom never had to say the words, "Don't make me tell your father about this."
I still refuse to buckle up. I wear cut-offs and go barefoot at work. I smoke this and that (much more of This than That) - and I'm serious: Do you honestly think that Monet could have done what he did...and Kerouac, and Picasso, and Rembrandt, Emerson and William Burroughs ... without breaking the rules? I'm thinking not so much.
It's all a gamble. You never know what's going to happen. In that Dustin Hoffman movie ("Little Big Man") that old Indian said over and over, "It's a good day to die," meaning that he had lived well THAT day and it was all good by him. I think that may well be the way we are supposed to take this: One falling star at a time.

Back to Kansas

2009-05-28T18:11:00.000-07:00

I've traveled a few thousand miles to be here. And, here is so fundamentally good and soul restorative I find myself having trouble wrapping my brain around it (much less trying to put it into words).
So rare are the moments when I wasn't able to articulate something (read: I never shut up) and since I've been pretty elusive in my tweets and status updates, I'm going to attempt to bring you up to speed and NOT lose you in the details.
The shortest story I can think of goes like this: A few years ago everybody I knew started to die, within a couple years everybody was gone but my kids and a couple of faithful friends. But, in the three years that it took that holocaust to pass, I'd buried my mom and my dad and more beloved memories than I've ever cared to count.
The best and only response I could come up with was to sell everything I owned (but my guitar, laptop and cell phone) and hit the road. I really didn't care all that much about much at all, and it had become abundantly clear that that which wouldn't just freakin' kill me forgodssake, would just make me stronger.
With a completely unfounded belief that I was unstoppable, I traveled. Then I traveled some more, and a little bit more for good measure.
I've met so many people and seen so many things, that I can only smile a bit and shake my head from side to side.
Seriously. For real.
I think it's imperative that we all step outside our comfort zones, and my adventures have proven that we are all way more resiliant than we think we are.
I am a horrible homeless person. I can suck it up and do the stiff upper lip thing as good as (well, technically: MUCH better than) the average bear. But, I simply can't ask anyone for anything. It just kills me. So there was that.
And then recently I remembered that I could write well enough to sell that talent, and not everybody can do that. Some people do algebra, some knit - I write. I did what I've done for 3 years: Craigslist. Long story short, I'm sitting in a 70 year old limestone building in Perry, Kansas. I am now paid to be a Marketing Director.
I can drive the old red Dodge beater truck with a manual transmission. There's a sweet brown lab named Rachel that comes in and I can pet her and throw her sticks.
Out the front door the trains roll by with certaintity, out the back is the Delaware river (no mamby pamby river either, it's way bigger than the Arkansas.) Go a mile either of the other ways and it's nothing but milo and soy and fields of tart prairie grass. There are a lot of guys on tractors.
If I'm so inclined, Lawrence is just 20 minutes away and there are all kinds of attractive things to be had there.
There is a herd of Red Deer (who look just like Reindeer to me) and they're having babies. I've heard of the sheep, but have yet to see them. Supposedly it's not the best lamb you can eat, but it doesn't suck either. I learned that you can't wrangle deer, you have to trick 'em. That could be fun.
The concern for whom I write is a well-established family business and it reminds me so much of what I knew and learned to love growing up in a family-run business. I can swear AND take showers here. I have a room and a soft padded place to lay my head at night.
Just up the street is the Perry Bar and Grill where they still allow smoking indoors. On Thursdays they have $5 steak nights. I don't even like steak, but I'm really looking forward to Thursday next - my son and his wife and my perfect grandson are meeting us there for dinner. And, I have never in my life been so grateful to know that I can buy them all dinner.

Ode to the Hobo

2009-05-17T09:15:00.000-07:00

As far as I can tell, through countless hours of research, there is no definitive line that separates the Hobos from the Homeless. The statistics (which I consider to be somewhat outdated) indicate that on any given night here in America there is between one and two million people sleeping on the streets, in boxes tucked away in alleys and in the drainage ditches available in almost every city in the country.
From my personal research, I've found these misplaced and discarded humans to be considerably more generous and beneficent than the average middle-class American. They've given me their last ten or twenty cents and I've returned the favor every time I have any change in my pocket (which, much to my dismay, is not all that often anymore). The times I've felt unsafe have been few and far between.
I am beginning to believe that the disparity between privilege and poverty is most clearly defined by the kindness of those who've known poverty. Back in the day (the late 1800's) the very first Hobo Convention was held and a code of eth ics was developed that still holds true today. I believe the consequences of our economy have increased the homeless/hobo numbers ten fold (at least) and there are now new considerations and symbols.
I am a hobo who travels with a laptop and a pre-pay cell phone. I have had great success in finding free wireless in every city I have jungled in, thanks to warchalki ng.In addition to those symbols, there is a whole new set of symbols that make it easier for the modern day hobo to identify safe harbor from danger.
The vagabond lifestyle is not something that I'd wish for my best friend, but it has provided me with an entirely new perspective on our culture and our priorities.
While there are times that I miss owning stuff (clothes, electronics and a cat) there are more times that I am ridiculously grateful to know that I'm not a burden to my children. Should you see a homeless, humble and dignified person in your path, don't go out of your way to avoid them. Even a smile given freely to someone sitting on a street corner can make a day so much better.

Mother's Day Eve

2009-05-09T16:07:00.000-07:00

This is that night when we set out a plate of cookies and a glass of cold Whole Milk.
If we go to sleep early, she'll show up.... looking like Jackie Kennedy.
Moms all across America are thinking they will get roses or breakfast in bed or a phone call.
Maybe chocolate... maybe beer.
I miss my mom.
Almost every single day.
She was all that and more.
Happy Mother's Day.
WaHoo.

Saturday Night Secret

2009-04-25T23:22:00.000-07:00

Well Hi boys and girls. Welcome back.
Shut th'door, you're gonna let in the flies.
It's been an eventful and adventurous week.
Wow. How I've missed you.
Man. Lets bake some brownies.
Most relevant discovery of this week is that when I get sick I turn into at least 4 of the 7 Contemporary Dwarves:
Pissy, Crabby, Cranky and Weepy.
Yea. My four least favorite dwarves.
I guess that's a good thing to know.
And, now I have that.
OH yea! and, I have absolute proof that, indeed, the best laid plans of mice and men (blah blah blah). Insert unreasonably long diatribe here for yourself. I'm exercising discipline and practicing the "Just Shut Up" approach. But, c'mon. Seriously?
And, the last thought for the night is this: how could it possibly be that expectations are just premeditated resentments? I've heard that often, and am just curious about how this works?
I mean, I think living with no expectations somehow devalues your personal investment in your own well-being. Just a thought. Any insight would be greatly appreciated. Other than that, lots of action, adventure, no police activity no injuries.

GOTTA BOUNCE GARAGE SALE.

2009-04-20T10:58:00.000-07:00

I have a vision.

One day soon I see me on a train headed south then east then really far north then maybe back south again. And, possibly west and then south.
As luck would have it, I've (yet freakin again) acquired more stuff than I can or would want to carry with me.
And, I could use a bone or two so I'm posting everything on Craigslist and selling what I can (Freecycling the rest). My capacity for finding cool stuff is legendary and this would be a great time to reap the benefits of my amazing cool-osity radar.
The pictures here don't represent everything (by a long shot) so email me if you want to see anything/everything else. My favorite thing in the world would go like this: You know some young person that's getting their first apartment. You know you're gonna go spread some benjamins around Target. You want a random collection of eclectic crap to make it feel more homey.
You offer me one BILLION dollars for the lot.
Okay.
So maybe the one billion part was too aggressive.
But, you get where I'm going with this. Get your cool on now while the economy has driven down the prices! And, as usual: Thanks!

What in The World's Been Going On.

2009-04-19T05:57:00.000-07:00

Notes from the road. Saturday night April 18th, 2009 7pm-ish Amtrak Train from Galesburg to Union Staion: $15 One really cold Heineken: $6.00 Lost seeing eye glasses but found money: Priceless
I took a gamble with a slightly risky traveling adventure this weekend. I don’t have clearance to fully divulge the many layers of risk involved, but I am happy to report that this micro-adventure went really well. The important things I learned on this journey are (in no particular order) that, first and foremost, the Quad-City area in Illinois right up against the Mississippi separating it from Iowa is one sweet little town-opolis. It’s got hills and ravines, great deciduous and evergreen trees and some pretty stunning turn-of-the-century architecture. Lot’s of Arts & Crafts… Frank Lloyd Wright inspirations….
I left Chicago with about $1.20 in my pocket and a pretty solid belief that I would truly be met at the train station as planned. But, just to keep it fresh for the kids, I’d already been gone from the home of my phone charger for a couple days and my phone died. I’ve got plenty of minutes, just no way to power it up. And, sure, I could go buy additional CHARGER NUMBER freaking 9 (or something) for this year, but I refuse to continue being a victim to my own carelessness. I’m not going to ever buy another charger. I’m going to find something, somewhere online where the charger impaired of my species help each other out.
Ah, but I digress…
Traveling with no money and no phone is probably about as risky today as running with scissors while blind-folded was when I was a kid. It’s just not a prudent move. I remember The Olden Days (before we all had cell phones and wifi and whatnot) and we seemed to do just fine.
omg.
I am my grandmother.
And my mother. Damn.
This train ride is, like, the 40th awesome train ride I’ve had in a couple years. When all the stars are aligned I appear to have a super power that involves talking to somebody and really enjoying it for hours. It makes the journeys go fast, and I’ve met some seriously amazing and curious and interesting humans.
Yesterday it was Glenn. Not a tiny guy who’s taken care of a fleet of school buses and driven kids around for 7 years. He a dyed-in-the-wool Chicago boy. He has a deal for trains and trips and adventures. He’s spent way too much time in a dark room developing real film, shooting SLRs and helping nurse a resurgence in film photography.
But, even more interestingly to me, he’s doing this project with his cell phone camera. He’s got a number of shots that I saw and they were so distinct. I really want to see what can be done with those with Photoshop on a Mac. I want to see what they look like very large with no treatments whatsoever. I’m just very curious about the whole deal no
I’m insatiably curious. I know a guy who got hit by lightening TWICE! (Not just once, but TWICE!) I’ve met a guy who was Bernie Mac’s cousin and another guy who was a tour manager for Poison but he somehow got swindled out of all his money by some crooked schmuck in the entertainment industry. He was in absolute need of a straight-up kiss from the Tooth Replacement Fairy. Looking for a little dental love, but a nice enough guy.
I met this older couple who were just traveling all over the country (and the UK) by train because he had just retired and had a massive heart attack and almost died, so now they’re just kickin it … all moon-eyed and spoony and together on adventures across everywhere.
Then there’s this one really great kid I met from Brooklyn. He is an artist and poet. He published his own book of his poems. They didn’t suck at all. He was only, like, 22 years old. He lived in one of those high-rise tenements with his parents, siblings and a couple grandparents - in a two bedroom apartment. He had a great smile. I suspect some delicious things are headed his way.
I’ve learned all about mechanical and electrical and diesel and survivalist and technical and virtual and mythological and historical and political and religious and psycho and geographical things I never would know about if I hadn’t embarked on this adventure.
I've heard of elderly blind golfers, short order cooks and little people traveling via luggage.
A risk that I can actually share with you about now is this: For the first time in about 4 years I have opened myself up to the possibility of living longer than another hour or so. Yea. I know. Sounds dramatic. I’m dramatic. But, I’ve got great legs and seriously blue eyes. So, cope. Everything is a compromise. At least I’m not Goat-Faced or the infamous Angry-Stupid combination.
I’ve gone out on a limb and made friends.
Now I’m on the Metra that takes me to Elmhurst. It’s like a quarter till one. a.m. Long freaking day. But, this train is completely choked full to the brim with moderately drunk and exceptionally rowdy sports fans. There’s lots of whooping and hollering. Everybody has on some kind of sports related shirt. Not me so much. But, I do have on a shirt and I’m pretty sure there were points awarded for that.
Y’know, at this point, even I thought that I’d probably busted a move on all the adventure one human could sweep into one night.
But…noooooooo. Not so much.
The train ride from Union to Elmhurst was free for me. I have no idea why, but the conducter wouldn’t take my money. I saw him accept other people’s money, but not mine. I didn’t take it personally. I get off the train in Elmhurst around 1:15am and immediately took the first of many really wrong turns that I could possibly take. Shortly followed up by the next, and definitely the most tragic of bad turns. By this time I’ve gotten a little crabby and tired - therefore making it almost impossible for me to doubt my journey OR ask for directions.
At about the point where I realize I’ve walked in the same circle roughly 4 times I decide to start crying because it goes so well with the rain. I was feeling a little trapped, learning and navigationally disabled and freakin exhausted. And, in spite of the relative light weight of my purse and laptop - I’m pretty sure the combined load has ruptured most of the discs in my back. I’m standing in the rain, worrying about my electronics and considering downtown store fronts to sleep in when I look over and see a taxi car guy with his son. They were listening to what I believed to be Iraqi American Idol music. He opens his window and I pull out my best Most Pathetic Emmy Nomination just to get him to use his GPS and point me in the right direction. He suggests giving me a ride, what with him being a taxi driver and all, and I explain that I’ve only got $5. Not one cent more, just five little American dollars. But, I saw on the GPS that I would only need to go a little over a half mile. And, at that point in the night I was fairly certain even one more half mile would have killed me dead. So, he agrees to take me home for $5 and we ROCK the Kasbah with whatever ethnic music his car provides. I get back to Liz’s around 3am.
The door is locked. The other door is locked.
And, yes, you guessed it: The final and only other door is locked.
It really made me wish that I had taken my brother up on his most generous offer to tutor me in picking locks. I so clearly remember thinking then, “Why, in Godsgood name, would I ever need to know how to pick a lock?!?!”
By 3:20ish I decide that it’s just going to be an outdoor night for me. It wasn’t freezing, I had some wind protection and more than life itself: I did NOT want to wake anybody in the house. I also had my wifi and Hulu so I could watch any number of mind-numbing TV shows I’ve grown addicted to. About 10 minutes after my complete acceptance and okey-dokeyness with my current state of affairs I hear a man saying, “Don’t be afraid. I’m so sorry. I’m lost. Look, I’ll keep my hands up in the air. I mean you no harm.” He was lost. In the rain. At almost 4 in the morning. And, he was about 15 feet away at the edge of the yard in Elmhurst where NOBODY talks to ANYBODY.
And, he just really needed me to Google Map his university so he could go there and sleep in a bed till sometime after noon. Google Maps almost never fails me and within minutes we discover that he’s only about 15 minutes away from where he needed to be. But, he’s so grateful to have found me (awake, on a porch, surfing the net with high-speed and just as chatty as I have always been) he offers to buy me some kind of after midnight fast food. I’m not really hungry and my feet are killing me from my walk of Lost Obstinacy but he’s a really good kid and we immediately strike up sparky conversation about chemistry, nutrition and the current (and hopeful) state of American politics.
By this time, it’s no longer raining whole drops, just little smatterings of drizzle and it’s not cold for the first time in about 6 months. We never did find any kind of fast food open at 4 in the morning, which was something of a surprise, but we did sit on the porch and talk till almost 6:30 and sunrise. Then we both got the cold that comes from it being a little chilly and a lot tired, and he took off in the right direction and moments later Liz opens the door and lets me in to the place where it’s warm and has coffee.
Jeff is the name of the after 4am guy and I didn’t get his contact information, (he’s going to Elmhurst College and his dad teaches at Wisconsin State I think) so if you see him - tell him to drop into my face book or something. He’s good people. And, brings my total for really good people (met for the first time) in a 24 hour period to 6. Six people, 24 hours, all goodness and great ideas. There. Now I told you all about it. I know I should sleep soon and long.
And, it's your turn to tell me a story now. XOXO

FRIDGE DOOR PROJECT V.2

2009-04-16T20:14:00.000-07:00

The Fridge Project is way more than I would have expected.
Everybody has one.
You ought to send me yours.

A Fridge by Any Other Name, is Still A Fridge

2009-04-13T12:04:00.001-07:00

This is my equivalent of a fridge door. it's not so much a fridge, but it is all the stuff that would be on it if I had one.
This is just to confirm a theory. Or, many theories - as luck would have it.
1) It's entirely impossible that I am the only person in the world interested in fridge door art. While it would suck out loud to be such a dreamer, I think I'd still sleep nights.
2) It could just be too personal. I have received correspondence that was just striaght-up crabby. I let myself feel a ittle guilty for my open refrigerator voyeurism. Dude. My bad. I have always just thought it cool to look at people's fridge doors. I'm inlcined to tell the haters that if they don't like it so much, just say nothing at all. Don't look. Stay out of the kitchen.
3) I admit to having alterior motives. I think that a great many people are voyeurs at heart and really enjoy renting space in other's peoples' heads. I certainly can't be the only one. Seriously? C'mon. For real.
I'm making connections with creatives in other countries. I have a dream.... One day.... Obama will appoint some kind of cultural Secretary General....
If we all take pictures of our fridges, one person at a time - we CAN make a dfferece.
Just do this, I think it's going to work. Think outside the triangle.
And, I mean Please. And Than you.

Back To Business. FRIDGE DOOR BLOG CONTINUED

2009-04-07T16:23:00.000-07:00

It's been just a minute or two since I was all up in my Fridge Door Project. If you're one of the 5 people who drop in here with some regularity, mea culpa mea culpa. I'm off the road and ready to resume. Here's what I know: If I could track the progression of tweets and facebook/myspace updates that contained some reference to my project I would no doubt be pleased and amused. Short of that I can only pass on my gratitude to everybody who has chosen to partake in this social research project (and completely self-serving slice of voyeurism).
What follows are the most recent batch of fridge doors with what ever narrative I either received or have chosen to share.
I really like this one. It makes me think of re-incanration and Picasso. I would encourage these owners to nurture that artist in kids clothes.
This one is from Canada. David Stephens from Nova Scotia. He does some amazing art and offers the most thoughtful and funny and entertaining fb links. ever.
This one belongs to Katie. She's in Beijing teaching English to little Chinese children. Very minimalist - in and out. I think that is Sake on top, I think I need to research this one in person.
Please send a picture of your fridge door to momoemasters@gmail.com
Thanks!

A Million LIttle Kisses

2009-04-05T15:25:00.000-07:00

Not A Million Little Pieces.
Not A Million Little Fridges.
I'm just going to blog about what's happening ...
... about right now.
My sister has 4 boys and a husband. Fortunately her husband doesn't offer kisses (That would be WAY too weird) but he did get me two Krispy Kreme donuts recently - and that demonstrates his love for me.
I am Aunt Moses. I can whistle like a first-baseman and order everyone to help with chores. When I do, nobody argues with me. I can put 'em in Time Out and they cry quietly instead of screaming. I can explain all the finer details of chores and not even get so much as an eye ball rolling.
I'm gearing up for a Family Meeting wherein I tell ALL the boys in this house that they have to help their mama more. The big boys are old enough to do just about anything, and the babies need good role models. Meagan is about to take job number three and is going to need some serious cooperation with NO flack.
Ferrreal. NO flack.
I love this chaos. I love kids and dogs and the smell of home-made stuff in the oven. I love folding laundry and doing dishes.
Meagan just now told me and Julie (our most recently adopted family member) that this environment will make you appreciate your "Me Time."
For the last two years, I've said that this is where I'd film the indie called "Birth Control".
I'm pretty sure my sister does about 200 pounds of laundry every week. She touches and cooks up roughly 20 pounds of meat and more veggies than I've even considered. She is up at the crack of dawn and doesn't even get to drink her coffee in peace. She has to go to the bathroom with the door open because she knows that some shit IS absolutely going to hit the fan during the three minutes it takes to go.
The million little kisses that I get here in Colorado can't be beat by anything anywhere. And, in spite of this being Chaos Central - I would gladly take this any day.

NEW FRIDGE DOORS!

2009-03-18T10:27:00.000-07:00

So, it's become abundantly clear that I'm not going to update this thing, like, everyday.
(I'm always so ambitious right out of the gate.)
But, on the upside, I am getting plenty of submissions to keep this rolling for a while. Please tell everybody you know to play along.
There is all kinds of fun to be had.
So yea - this IS my grandson. But, seriously. He is so cute and I really like the perspective. I'm hoping this will make you want to "Think outside the box" (to use a totally exhausted colloquialism ~ is it a colloquialism or just a cliche? ~)
The following fridge lives in New York City and makes me think about editors and people who love their animals. I get that on so many levels. It also makes me wonder just how long Cheryl and Lyle Lovett have been together.

Kansas City is a good place for Barbeque and a better place to consider what's inside AND on top of the fridge. (since I've so very rarely even seen the top of a fridge, I'm very curious now.)
Please send your inclusions to: momoemasters@gmail.com
Thank you so very much.

Fridge Doors Commentary

2009-03-11T12:54:00.000-07:00

The response to my Fridge Door project has been amazing. I will continue to support the Internet and all word-of-mouth promotions that have helped build this empire ~ Thanks for all the bytes and words!
There are so many layers to this study and if I were in the mood to get another degree, I'd be all over this. However, this post is just something to get some feedback, maybe generate some dialog... on the thought processes that go into creating the ambient art known as the Fridge Door.
I've researched it way more than is reasonable and come up with nothing. I got nothing here, seriously? My first thought is that, surely, I cannot be the first person to think of this.
I keep hitting brick walls, no good information.
So, I've built a presence on facebook and would love it if you could drop in. I've got coffee on, and some day-old scones. We'll just hang and chat while I transcribe huge parts of our conversation into content on my laptop.
Seriously. It's warm here, there's no reason not to come by.
We'll do research, tell stories.

Fridge Door Project. 4th Post

2009-03-10T18:32:00.000-07:00

In case you just got to the table, I'm doing a project on fridge doors. Like snowflakes, no two are alike.
Visit often, leave feedback if you drop in. I'm researching the psychology behind the door...Any insight would be greatly appreciated.I would very much appreciate it if you could take a digital picture of yours for me and maybe tell me a little something about it. Whatever you'd feel like sharing with the class would be sweet.This one belongs to Mike Manley (an artist currently in PA.) He confirms my premature, but solid, belief that artists and writers have the coolest stuff. Artists who are also writers are off the chart.
So far, anyway.
Send me yours...
Please pass the word around - I'd love to see your fridge.
email images and any copy to:
momoemasters@gmail.com
Thanks!

The Fridge Project: Day Three

2009-03-06T07:41:00.000-08:00

A teacher I know opens this fridge every day. There may be a beer in there and in Tulsa you can go to a drive-through liquor store and the dirt is red.
This is one neat and tidy kitchen and the minimalist approach to refrigerator adornment.
The fridge in Kansas where someone (namely: Christina) just got accepted into the Masters Program at The University of Kansas and they love their Pugs.
The story is this: I'm beginning a project (like Post Secret) - just with fridge doors.
I appreciate everyone who has sent me theirs so far, and would encourage you to do the same and encourage everyone you know to do it too.
Always carry a camera. Thanks.

Fridge Door Blog. Oh yea.

2009-03-04T20:32:00.000-08:00

This fridge lives in North Carolina, the Tri-City area. The owners may have Kansas ties - as they have the Wicked Witch on there. I see international travel, siblings (perhaps), Wooly Willy (who personally saved my life in the waiting room at the doctor's office when I was 6), Girl Scouts, babies and a fairly conservative approach to Fridge Art.

This fridge has real estate in a totally cool apartment in downtown Elmhurst (Chicago-ish) and is that killer shade of Avocado. I love when the family is all over the front.
This one is in Lawrence, Kansas and most resembles what happens in my homes to our fridges. Danger and his family know how to do it up. Word.

Reality Fridge 1.0

2009-03-02T17:53:00.000-08:00

Everybody has one.
What does yours look like?
Think "Post Secret" in the kitchen.
There are those who do
And those who don't.
Is there anything on your fridge?
I'm thinking you should share with the class.
What's on your fridge?
Please forward to ....momoemasters@gmail.com or reeniemoe@hotmail.com or kinishiwah@yahoo.com. However you like it. Thanks!!! XOXO

Felix Oliver Mueller

2009-02-26T20:54:00.000-08:00

This is my grandson, Felix Oliver Mueller. He was born almost one year ago (March 2nd, 2008) and he lives in Kansas (which is a pretty long ways away from me right now).
I built a pretty cool little video, BUT I failed to contact They Might Be Giants to make sure it was okay to use one of their songs for background music AND therefore it got yanked from facebook for copyright violations.
So, in lieu of that, to celebrate his one year on the planet, I'm blogging him with pictures.
He cut his two top teeth today and he says mom and dad. Soon he will say "Momo" and want to watch Pinky and The Brain (maybe some old Tick reruns).
The world is a much finer place by virtue of this little man and his parents and I'm hoping he knows that I'm in his pocket on his birthday - whether I'm there in person or not.

Top Ten Reasons I Love Chelsea Maureen Mueller Bartel

2009-02-12T04:39:00.000-08:00

26 years and a handful of hours ago Chelsea was born in Kansas. Today is her birthday and she has been on my mind in a big way the last few days.
What follows are the Top Ten Reasons I'm Glad Chelsea Was Born:
10. She is tenacious and pretty much unstoppable. When she makes up her mind on something, that tends to be the way it plays out.
9. Her perspective is so sunny. It seems that she very rarely sees things in negative ways. She is my Optimism Poster Child.
8. Chelsea is my favorite reason to consider living a Purpose Filled Life. She is well-rounded and grabbing as much as she can while using her powers for good (never evil).
7. She doesn't seem to be scared by anything. I've heard myself tell her for years that she was brave (and funny and strong and smart and ...) But, it's a whole different deal actually watching her live such a brave life.
6. Chelsea has turned me onto some of my most favorite music in the world. I guess it doesn't defy explanation that her musical taste, while not a carbon copy, is so much like mine.
5. She is a 5-Star, Low Maintenance world traveler. Girl's got some mileage now - and some great pictures and stories.
4. She can keep her self together when a world is falling apart in a way that makes me proud. She's very strong this way and I love that.
3. Her attention to detail is apparent in everything she touches. Her mix CDs are absolutely amazing, her home is well-appointed and just about perfect ... and she has an eye for media layouts that I have valued for the last ten years or so.
2. This may seem silly, but she has some uber-hearing. Since she was a kid, if there were lyrics we couldn't figure out on a song, we'd go to Chelsea and ask her. She has provided us with this service since she was 8 or 9 years old.
1. And, the Number ONE reason I love Chelsea as much as I do is because she loves back so fiercely. She is loyal, empathetic and kind...she just about always provides calm...To know her is to love her.
So, since today's her birthday: Go tell her happy birthday. She is one of many reasons that the world really is a better place.

From The Road: Union Station

2009-02-05T10:39:00.000-08:00

I'm sitting in a bar in Union Station. Downtown Chicago. Freakin' winter. Still. It may always be. Had to walk 2 blocks from the Metra Station, but met some nice people along the way, so it was a good time - even though it's 20 below with the wind chill and I forgot to bring gloves.

I've wanted to take a whole bunch of pictures, but I'm packed like a llama in Peru and I have to conserve energy and motion. The pictures would have just illustrated what it's like to be in the third largest city in America, and how very much unlike a Cowtown in KS it is. But, I have seen a lot of Amish people downtown today, so that's a little familiar. I'm headed to see my son, his wife and (The Child of Perfection) my grandson in Lawrence, KS. Felix (the afore mentioned child) is about to turn a year old and I've been aching to tell him some stuff and hold him. I also think his parents need a night out - till sunrise. All parents need this and maybe some adult beverages. I've got two hours till I board the Southwest Chief to head down south. I love to travel on trains. A lot. I'm planning on taking some pictures there AND seeing if I've got wifi. So far, I can and have found free wifi almost everywhere in America, so I'm hopeful but not optimistic about the train. It's supposed to be 68 degrees on Saturday where I'm headed. It's WICKED cold in ChiTown. I remain unconvinced that winter is all that cool, and I probably won't actually pray for snow again for many years to come. Let this serve as a dual warning: Be careful what you wish for AND I'm going to be there soon - hide the breakables. I'll see you in another time zone. Call.write.drop in.

Cities and States

2009-01-31T16:43:00.000-08:00

Welcome to Chicago!
This is a part of downtown Chicago, a place I arguably don't go much. But, by virtue of living in one of the thousands of villages that band together to call themselves "Chicago Land" I do get to welcome you here and tell you that should you find yourself here don't panic. The buildings are tall and the sun is blocked out. The traffic is seriously insane, but if you're not in a rush you can get anywhere - ask almost anybody.
In spite of their "In Person" kindness: Do NOT jack somebody up on a big road (I don't know what else to call them. In Wichita I had "The Tall Road" and "The Big Road." One was a north-south and one was a east-west).
What this means is that you must go at least 7 miles over the posted speed limit and you must know exactly where you are going at all times. The Road is not a place to figure it out.
People here scream, honk and flip you off on these big roads. I've sworn off 'em as I only seem to cause angst. And, should you choose to bravely navigate one of these roads: Look out for the really short ethnic man. He is usually driving a Mercedes or Beemer, maybe the occasional Audi. But, the RSEM will, with absolutely NO regard for you, decide he wants the lane you're in. It does not matter if you are completely in that lane - if he wants it he will take it. Screaming at him and using hand gestures will be of no consequence, as the RSEM will never give you the satisfaction of turning his head and looking at you. It is very much as if you were invisible. This phenomenon happens ALL the time. Just be alert, pay attention.
Another great Chicago thing: FOOD. Portillos Hot Dogs. I'm just sayin' - if you haven't had one, you haven't had a dog. I've heard that the beef sandwiches are beside themselves, too. But, at this posting, have had no need to fix what isn't broke.
Gyro King or Dengeos. OMG. I am a Certified Gyro Consultant, and these are among the best. ever. anywhere. Oh yea, and they each weigh about 3 pounds.
Bob Chinns Crabhouse in Wheeling is well worth what ever you have to successfully navigate to get there. Last I heard, they flew in 2 or 3 loads of fresh seafood every day, and the taste and food quality bear testiment to that. I can personally back the Alaskan King Crab, fresh oysters, all the shrimp and scallops and their Lobster Bisque and Clam Chowder will make you do the Happy Dance if you've never had fresh Sea Soup.
Last bit of unsolicited Chicago world tonight: These people party like Rock Stars and take their sports seriously. On the Great Prairie we really enjoyed high school football and summer softball, but Wow. I think everybody should spend some time in a city that has big time sports enthusiasts and learn to stay up till sunrise.

2009-01-30T20:05:00.001-08:00

Hey kids!
I know it's been a while since I dropped in, but I've been busy conquering the castle and taming the natives. It's been (Seriously) Un (freakin) believably cold here in Chicago, yet none of the natives seem to be deeply affected. I am cold. All. The. Time.
I've figured out a whole bunch of things since we last sat down for a beer and some Portillo's Hot Dogs and my back is killing me.
So, here's a little deal about Geography: Chicago is, indeed, North of Wichita. And, when I say "North" here, I don't mean like, Kansas-City-North, I mean like Canada. Like the Arctic. Like I can relate to my cousins in Alaska a whole lot better now North. For real. Are you kidding me here? This is my second winter here in as many years, and I have to tell you: THIS is ridiculous.
If you live here you have to have good boots and you have to wear them.
(In KS our boots were a whole lot more Fashion Statement and a whole lot less Frostbite Prevention).
The Full Moons and the days of sunshine are coordinated.
(Not a whole lot of sunshine so far this year).
Temperatures below freezing are tolerated and not discussed in social situations for weeks on end.
I'm just saying. Thasssallllll....
And - planning a train trip is more fun than rustlin' kitties, I'm tellin'ya.
I'm going to KS for a spot here soon.
Thinking about hobos and how they do it.
Don't feel like jumpin freight these days, nor do I feel like surfing CraigsList and gambling on goodness.
Discovered that some people must simply have fresh air (or they'll slowly die inside....) I'm genetically predisposed to needing fresh air on an hourly basis, as was my father. I clearly remeber thinking he was completely whacked for keeping a window by his head open just a bit all winter.
I thought it only fair to tell you. Before we commit. Oh yea.... And, I was raised Catholic, so I'm all conflicted and whatnot...

Social Networks: The Skinny

2009-01-06T18:36:00.000-08:00

The other day I was watching morning television and they had this special segment called something like, "OMG. My MOM is on Facebook!" It was a couple of tweens who had recently found their mother on their social network. They were initially shocked and embarrased, but claimed to be fine with it after a couple nights' sleep
For me, it was the day one of my aunts sent me a friend request.
Yea. My Aunt. She's, like, 20 years older than me AND she's on Facebook.
Truth be told, it's a pretty cool deal. I'm a voyeur at heart and I thoroughly enjoy being able to kinda snoop through everybody's drawers and rifle through their pictures.
I remember my kids getting on Facebook a million years ago (ok. Probably more like 10 years ago) and checking it out and thinking it was great for kids in college. I think that's what the founding fathers were thinking too, but it has taken on a life of it's own now and everybody (and their aunts) are on there now.... Myself included.
But, it has piqued my curiousity about the whole Social Networking world.
My kids tell me that "MySpace is SOOOO yesterday" and they only keep their spaces up there because they don't really want to mess with taking them down. But, they've been saying that for a couple years now, and they still show up on MySpace every so often.
These are the things I have learned recently:
1. MySpace sucks. Why? Because it has all these bells and whistles and music just starts playing on most of the sites you visit. It's come to remind me of those dingle-balls that you see on the front windshields of low-riders. It's like a house packed full of kitschy stuff that nobody really wants (pet rocks, chia heads and the like) but they keep it all anyways... Complaining the whole time about having to dust all this stuff.
2. Facebook USED to be the coolest thing since sliced bread (or so they tell me). Having not really ventured there until about a year ago, I don't know what was so cool and supposedly isn't now. But, from what I gather, it's totally uncool to have so many apps available. It's like flair and e-swag: Everybody has some, but few will admit to it.
3. Tagged (I think it's called) and MyYearbook are officially the bottom feeders of the Social Network strata. I only say this because they are almost exclusively populated by people who claim to be "In a relationship" who are looking for "Fun and realationships" and basically Hooking Up. But, they're IN a relationship. Yea, you do the math. Not totally cool. These sites also come with an unGODly number of add-ons that can make you have the coolest site in your trailer park.
AND, this phenomenon definately deserves mention: Almost every profile I've bounced through has a self portrait that was either taken in a bathroom mirror (What?!?! You don't live with somebody that can take your picture?!?!) and/or are at the very least, suggestive and usually just bordering on pornographic. More crotch shots than you can shake a stick at.
In case I wasn't clear about this: Don't Go There. Seriously.
Or, Do Go There, if you want to feel like you need to take a shower after a few views.
Then there's Twitter.
My daughter turned me on to this and I've become a fan. Twitter is a little feed where you can post updates as often as you want. I've got some people that I follow who post about every half hour with everything from the most mundane ("Woke up. Got out of bed.") to locals posting traffic and weather updates. I like it and it allows me to be a Hover-Mom without a guilty conscience. It's also become a pretty valuable resource for finding things and people and whatnot.
So, if you want to mortify your children, or simply find everybody that you went to high school with - get yourself a Facebook page. You just may find your grandparents there.

Gladness. Cubed.

2009-01-01T18:44:00.000-08:00

I could burst with all this goodness. I really love the people that my family has married into. And, 2008 had all kinds of high-points. These are just a few that I'm remembering tonight...

This is Chelsea and Jonathan and Olive. This is their 10th Christmas together. I love that they are such a cool couple and have been one for so long.
Some swell documentaries that made me think... or made me mad... or made me more curious:

- Stupidity
(I may have to write a Thesis on this and get a Masters)
- Young At Heart (Geriatrics singing contemporary songs a capella)
- Meth (aka; How I Lost My Brother)
- Fall From Grace. The Phelps (Topeka's Shame)
- 7 Up
(I wouldn't wanna be those people, but I love watching them grow up)
- Shut Up and Sing (Never been a big fan of Country Music, but the Dixie Chix deserve kudos for not sucking up)
- Everything I watched that was Anti-Bush and WTF: A War?!?! Seriously?!?
- Hours of study re; Fascism and Consumerism
- Jesus Camp
- Who Killed The Electric Car?

OTHER GREAT STOPS ALONG THE WAY:
Music and Art.
Blogspot
Twitter
Google Maps
Weather
Craigs List
Free Cycle
New friends and old friends
Cute babies
Indoor Plumbing
Target
Social Networking
Sturdy shoes and good socks
Ace Bandages
Free WiFi
Limewire
Photoshop
Hitch Hiking
Train Hopping
Thrift Stores
Busking
Ex-Husbands
Catholics, Athiests and Agnostics
Home Brews
Justin Thomas and Chelsea Maureen
NORML
Obama-Rama (Change Can Happen)
Lou Reed
My Grandson (wow. I'm THAT old)
Helvetica (I once married a Font Freak. Can't Go Back.)
Ipods and Itunes
Sony Digital Cameras
The Pacific and The Atlantic
Trains
Planes and 18-Wheelers
Pepper Spray
Downtown Chicago
I-70 from KS to CO
North Carolina
Seattle
Idaho
My sister's home
My step-mother the nun
And, what are you grateful for?

Gratitude Monday: The Internet

2008-12-22T22:56:00.000-08:00

Pandora.com has become my most favorite place to go for all day music of whatever I'm in the mood for. You can choose artists or bands or songs or genres. It's the bomb and I've gotten to find a whole bunch of music that I wouldn't have otherwise found.

Freecycle.org is probably one of the coolest utilities around these days. It's kind of like a never-ending garage sale that allows you to feel good about being a consumer AND lets you meet new people and learn new towns. And, best part: It's all free.
If you haven't tried it out yet, y'oughta.

The Metra Map online is yet another in a long list of amazing and totally necessary maps that I've found online. Google maps and Map Quest are equally cool, but I had to choose only one image to illustrate this - and, well... The Metra Map was by far the most colorful.

Oh Craigslist - what a fortuitous bucket of luck that I found you. This site has allowed me to see a huge part of America and get to airports and train stations on time (ride-share), Laugh out loud at least once a week (Best Of), find jobs, sell stuff, find stuff and give stuff away.

It was here that my true nature as a voyeur was most completely defined. If you haven't been here yet, you really ought to just go check it out. I'm not going to bore you with the details here that you can find there. But, do go find it there - it's just a good way to start your Sundays.

There was a time when I thought the whole Internet thing was just further evidence that we're destroying our innate ability to interact with humans. I'm glad that time has passed. I'm glad for every "conversation" that I get to have with my kids ... with my extended family and many of my friends. I'm glad I can jump over to Twitter and see just what it is that my people are doing for dinner.

I'm thankful for the pictures of my nephews, children, extended family, all my real-life friends and my grandson. My Space and Facebook aren't really the work of the devil and I don't like one over the other. They have both allowed me to find people I've lost and stay connected with the ones I didn't.

I think this Internet thing might catch on.

Gratitude v.2//Gatherings

2008-12-16T22:08:00.000-08:00

I think it has always been and will always be that I am most grateful for gatherings of different people for different reasons. I cherish meals that last too long and end with too many people in the kitchen. My Super Power probably involves creative reasoning for parties. I think we should all just get together and sit down for a spell. These are just a few of the collections I got to be a part of. Except for the boots. I just put that in there because I love it and Hoot did such a good job shooting it.

Gratitude.

2008-12-12T10:24:00.001-08:00

As this year draws to a close, I have cause to pause and consider all the things that have been so great about 2008.
Truth be told, I really need to just think happy thoughts, so I'm doing this as an exercise in gratitude.
What follows are just a few of the people and things and memories I'm grateful for this year.
Oh.
And, this could go on Ad Naseum, so just know that much....
This is Lauren Grace Vitiello and Luke Townsend. I'm pretty sure they were sent to me for a reason. They are full of love and acceptance and they are pretty much normal people. Without them I could not fully appreciate my mastery of the Egg Sandwich (Samich) or my ability to be 47.

This would be Justin Thomas and Chelsea Maureen. Halloween in the 80s. I think of this picture a lot and it makes me happy for both Halloween AND Christmas.

These are The Littlest Monkeys. My nephews with a TOTALLY non-soluble ink pad. It makes me remember how dangerous it is to be on the phone, with toddlers in the house, and have it go all quiet. Non-soluble is the key word here. But, they will grow new skin.

Aaahhhhh.... And this would be Felix. My Grandson (aka: The Child Capable of NO Wrong) I think he'll vote Democratic...maybe Libertarian. I can tell from that smile that he's got my back and nothing bad will happen. He won't watch TV and he's going to read Keroac before he's 10.

These are just my TOP 5 REASONS to be grateful for this past year.

My photo files are FAT with more reasons. Stay tuned. Film at eleven.

Fourth Grade Class Rocks the Adler

2008-12-03T16:05:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I got to go with Storm's class to the Adler Planetarium in downtown Chicago. It is right on Lake Michigan nestled on this little peninsula that appears to house a few good places (mostly the Shedd Aquarium and The Field Museum) and made me appreciate how land-locked Kansas is.
I know that Lake Michigan is just a lake, but...seriously, it's huge. It felt more like being near an ocean.
We got on a big ol school bus with, like, 60 fourth grade students and spent an action-packed 5 hours (or so) burning calories and learning about planetary phenomena.
What follows are my Top Four Favorite Pictures of the Day.

How To Be Spiritually Green

2008-11-26T14:30:00.000-08:00

This is my little buddy, Auron Alfons Lorenz.
I know the picture is fuzzy, but he had just satisfied the physical need to touch the lens.
The hat was new.
It was cold.
The day after we got the hat he got sicker than a dog. Made me wish I'd been paying closer attention.
As we speak (as they say) - he is sound asleep on the couch to my left in my room.
Auron may be the guy who is in charge of teaching me to follow my heart... go with the flow... Chillax.
When he's hungry: He eats. He eats a wide variety of things and very rarely craves crap food. He likes his milk at a pretty set time every day...always about the same amount. He hates broccoli. He is a three year old who can be tricked into eating cauliflower in a wide range of ways and enjoys being a carnivore.
He wants to play with blocks almost every day at about the same time. He's pretty insistant that we re-do whatever it is that we did the day before, and that we add a little sumptin sumptin new every so often (to keep it fresh for the kid).
He wants to read either A) The Cat in the Hat Comes Home (NOT the original Cat in the Hat, mind you - rather some hybrid that doesn't have the perfect cadence ifound n the original. *Jeeeesh*) or B) Elmo's Gigantic Freakin Book of Pop Uppiness. I don't know what it's called, but Auron has memorized it and it's had a huge part in helping him with colors, numbers and the alphabet. He's amazing. The book grows old on about the 75th read, but it's one of those "Don't fix it if it isn't broke" things.
He naps when he's tired. He has to be really tired, sure. But, eventually... he will almost always fall asleep in the late afternoon. Then he will sleep like a rock and be a TOTAL 3-year-old about waking up. But, he obviously needs the nap and he will always take one when left to his own devices.
I've come to think that there is an intrinsic value in choosing to live this way and that we're denyed that opportunity by virtue of actually having a life (being a grown-up). But, I think there's got to be some way to restore a little more attention to these details. There's got to be a way to pay the bills, have fun, be true to yourself but STILL have a nap and eat blueberries for dinner sometimes.
I think I'm sleepy.
And a little hungry.
For chicken nuggets.
and Ranch dressing.
and red cherries.

Every Once In A While

2008-11-21T22:16:00.000-08:00

... You meet somebody, or a grouping of somebodies, who makes you just have hope for the future.....
It's a perfectly fine blend of philosophy and politics and androgyny and optimism. And, dimples and youth and beauty and hope.
All rosy-cheeked and passionate and hell-bent on this one point of view.
Just for tonight I'm going to sleep completely peacefully knowing that the seed has been planted and the future is, seriously, bright.
I'm just glad you are here.
XOXO

Have You Ever Just Ached To Kiss Somebody?

2008-10-22T21:00:00.001-07:00

I can hardly believe how badly I want to just hug this little Felix and kiss him till he giggles. I'm a total sucker for a baby in a sweater, and when he's my grandson...I'm weak and ready to jump on a plane tonight. Autumn does this to me, but this is the first time in ages I've actually ached.

Am I a Babysitter, An Au Pair or A Nanny?

2008-10-22T04:29:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I just can't sleep. I think my people are hard-wired that way. I hear my daughter talk about it some. I dreamed of a huge river boat run aground then woke to discover I was worried. Ivan's got a report that is due on Friday and I have to get a physical for Auron, like, yesterday. And, now for reasons that completely escape me: Storm is the one who won't go to bed. Well, actually none of them will go to bed, but she used to at least pretend like she was.
Life is good in Chicago.
Everyone seems to be adapting well.
We haven't been asked to leave any public places this week.
And, yet... here I am... wide awake.
Awesome.

God Lives In The Attic

2008-10-19T09:25:00.001-07:00

I chose this image only because I was looking for something a little vintage in an illustration, it's only coincidence that I happen to line up with it politically.
Today's sermon, boys and girls, is all about God.
I've taken this job, y'know, where I've been trusted with the well-being of three young and beautiful children. They are good kids who have done a pretty great job of raising themselves (insofar as any kid can). Their parents have had broken hearts and little time to oversee many of the things that typical parents take for granted.
Not long after I arrived, the 7-year old boy asked me if we could pray that night. He wanted the candles in my room lit, the lights turned off and he wanted us all to kneel Hallmark-card style on the bed with the palms of our hands pressed together and our eyes turned upwards. He'd seen it on a card once and that's the sum total of what he knew about praying.
So, I taught them the "God Blesses" portion of prayer....God bless mommy and God bless daddy...and all the way down the line till God had properly blessed Pikachu.
Then we moved on to formal requests, "God, please help me be a good boy tomorrow and tell no lies and not hit my brother..." Those were shorter than the "God Blesses" and stopped short of "God, please let me eat as much candy tomorrow as I want."
And, we were almost done, and my trusty 7-year old companion said, "Does God live in the attic?" And, I kind of crooked my head to the side, in that "I'm not sure what you mean" kinda way. And he held his pose and pointed to his up-turned eyes. He shrugged his shoulders and explained that every picture he'd ever seen of somebody praying, they were always looking up. And, up is the attic, ergo: God lives in the attic.
This was the precise moment where I decided that I was raised as a Christian, and to stay true to my (albeit, loosely woven) beliefs, I had to start some kind of God and heaven and angels dialog with these kids.
Today they attended their first church service. It was actually their first church ever for anything, I think. And it went well. And there was this amazing African-American woman preacher who was ALL over it. The net out of her sermon today was to follow your heart.
I cried.
Yea. I'm a total emotional bomb. Ask anybody who's ever married me or been raised by me.
But, I think I'm doing the right thing here, and I'm more sure than ever that God probably does live in the attic....

Dell Computers

2008-10-07T16:57:00.001-07:00

Kids, Get comfy: tonight's diatribe is all about Dell.

Dell computers are the modern-day Samsonite.
I swear. Seriously.
This little Dell Lattitude (not so much the one in that picture, mine is old enough to show up in sepia tone) that I work with now has been passed through 2 whole other humans before it reached me. I've called it "My little dinosaur" and plenty of other less nice things. But, the bottom line is that it has been a work horse.
On one of my first nights with it, I carefully took it out of it's bag, plugged it in, went to just move it a little to the right and promptly dropped it on it's head from about 3 feet up. Yep. Hardwood floors. I think I screamed like a pink-panty-wearing girl.
It immediately fired right back up and has subsequently taken me anywhere and everywhere I want to go.
Kudos, Dell.
While that, all by it's self, is plenty cool.... Today I saw a re-enactment of that commercial Samsonite ran during the 70s. An extremely determined and hefty 3-year-old (not terribly unlike that gorilla they used for their commercials) slammed it closed (I know that sound from, like, a mile away) then threw it on the ground and jumped up and down on it.
For real. I'm going against all my natural instincts and NOT exaggerating here.
He had all of about 45 seconds to do with it what he would/could, before I could drop the pot of hot soup I was serving up for dinner and make it the 20 feet to my room.
My little (smack-talked) dinosaur was disconnected and upside down on the floor and Auron (the afore mentioned 3-year old) was in mid-air just above it. I think I screamed something like, "Heeeeey! What are you doing?!?!" and he lost his stride and fell on the computer (with all of his 46 frenzied pounds). All of this happened in slow motion, like one of those Kneau Reeves movies.
He did, indeed get something of a butt swat. Immediately followed up with some serious Time Out. But, less than 10 words from point A to point B (because I've heard that's the most words you get at that moment in time.)
I didn't cry even though it seemed like the most prudent reaction.
I finished serving dinner.
He wailed like an eviscerated racoon.
Dinner was great.
And, the computer is just fine.
So, Dell - Good job, dude! You'd'man.
If you're ever looking for some marketing ideas on your product's amazing fortitude, just call me.
I'm in the market for a new computer (as I was way before tonight's fun) and I can just about guarantee you I'll be buying a new Dell.

Elections and Arguments.

2008-10-05T09:07:00.000-07:00

With a little less than a month till the election I am officially done trying to match wits with the witless. If somebody chooses to believe that we will be well-served by electing someone based on one small part of their platform, then so be it.
If those same people aren't invested enough to do their research, then I will be the girl with no opinion. I am left to wonder, however, if perhaps a little less time with reality TV and a little more time with factual research wouldn't be a better way to plant hope in the future.
Democracy is only as valuable as the people who help shape it. I know we are at a crossroads in the country and all I can do now is hope and believe.
Research could well be the one useful tool to bring about significant change. So, do your research and, I promise not to say "I told you so" if things don't work out like they ought to.

Still Being Hopeful

2008-10-03T10:08:00.000-07:00

As election day draws nearer and nearer I find myself logging some long hours talking politics with people I never expected to talk politics with (the girl at the grocery, that Middle-East guy at the 7-11 and friends I have known for years who never gave any indication that they even cared.)
I could be an alarmist and launch an all-out attack on the misinformation that we are presented with but I have chosen to adopt a more personal approach and just try to persuade anybody I can that now is (seriously) the time for change.
We have to vote.
We cannot afford another moment of the same choices that we've seen for the last 8 years.
To ability to vote is one of the only super-human powers that we have left.
And, as always, it falls to us to use our powers for good - not evil.
Think about it.

Things I Never Thought I'd See

2008-09-30T19:59:00.000-07:00

It is a chilly Tuesday night in Chicago and it's got me all contemplative.

Seasonal changes have a way of doing that to me.
Last weekend I saw an older lady in Union Square, pushing one of those wheelie-grocrey-cart things that you often see older people in urban areas pushing (or pulling).
In her cart she had a sleeping bag, a whole bunch of aluminum cans, the requisite boom box, a piece of firewood, what I could only assume was a backgammon board (or her briefcase) and a single ski. She had on flip-flops and mismatched socks, some way-wicked "I Love Kitty" capri pants, a hooded sweatshirt (that made "sweat" an integral part of the description) and she was wearing goggles that I thought only welders wear.
I don't think her hair had visited a brush or comb since Reagan was in office. And, I couldn't take a picture for fear that I'd capture her soul.
There's just no way, even with my wildest imagination, that I could have ever thought I'd see that.
And then there's my life. There are so many (Seriously, I'm talking sooo freakin' many) things I never thought I'd see....
Meet JT (my son, aka: Justin Thomas) and his son Felix Oliver.
I'm old enough to be a grandmother.
Never thought I'd see that.
Wow. Rock on.

Dream Big Dreams....

2008-09-24T23:00:00.000-07:00

When I was way too young to almost remember I believed I would grow up to be Mary Poppins. Christmas of 1964 Santa brought me her hat, her umbrella, her bag, a tea set and a table and chairs.
When my daughter was 4 she announced (repeatedly and to anyone who would listen) that she was going to be a doctor. She's scant moments away from making that real. I'm completely in the moment and way more Mary Poppins that not.
It's only been very recently that I've remembered that all I wanted to do (when I was 4) was to be that person who could show up with flashlights and monkeys and socket sets and duct tape and oatmeal and hot chocolate in my purse. And, here it is.... today...and I am that person.
I am a nazi... I expect everybody to use their manners. I believe that we all wake up... every morning, and we do the best we can... and, every once in a while...somebody will show up with all the tools we need to do our job right...or have our backs tickled....or we'll spoon and laugh and sing the songs our mom taught us.
I'm just amazed at how everything you wish for will come to you.
You just have to remember what it is that you wished for.

Meagan Has A Birthday

2008-09-19T08:48:00.002-07:00

My Sister turns 40 Today
Meagan is my little sister. She was born 7 years behind me and we share very limited memories of living in the same house...growing up together.
Over the course of the last year I've gotten to know her more than I could have ever hoped. And, she is one amazing person.
She lives in Colorado (as she has for the past 17 years) and she has 4 amazing boys. She has perfect nails and unbelievably enviable hair. She can sing like a lark and either doesn't know it or hasn't realized it yet.
When she laughs it's like a perfect wind ripping through a strand of evergreens.
She has some serious back bone.
She will sometimes tell me things I don't want to hear and other times tell me things that nobody has ever told me about myself. I value her for both of these.... Her candor is so precious.
Once, when she was very little I told her that my best friend had a tail. She believed me. Another time I told her that all those little utility stations along the turnpike were UFO tracking stations. I think she believed that till she was in college. And, once Meagan believes something it IS the truth. You've really got to work overtime to make her believe otherwise.
She still sends my brother money in prison.
She has hope.
I am so blessed to have her in my life...as are my children...and her children...and her great big ol' Irish Catholic family.
She is amazing.
And, it's her birthday.
So...Good vibe Meagan today.
Life is short...good vibes are forever.

Things I Remembered

2008-09-17T09:32:00.000-07:00

To be fair, I may have known a lot of this stuff at some point in my life, but apparently that information got squeezed out and replaced with (what I can only fiugre is) random stuff that doesn't matter all that much.
1. You have to have the right tool for the job.
2. Even though something may look like it works and it's all good, it could be tragically and dangerously broken.
3. You really can't believe most anything you hear or read and it's probably best to hedge your bets.
4. You simply can't go back.
5. If you do lots of dishes by hand all your callouses will magically disappear. And, not in a good way.
6. Warm and clean clothes can turn a day around.
7. There really are no bad kids, just sadly misinformed and/or lazy parents.
8. Holding people to the same standards you hold yourself to will only lead to heart ache.
9. Expectations may, indeed, only be premeditated resentments, but there's no real way to live a full life without them.
10. There seriously is NO gain with NO pain.

So, there y'have it. Perhaps I just needed to leave this here so I can come back and find out what it is that I think I know.

Eight IS Enough!!!!

2008-08-28T20:13:00.001-07:00

YES WE CAN!!!!!

For the first time in my adult life I am full of hope... hope for the future....hope for our children and parents...hope for the legacy I believe we can and will leave behind. GO OBAMA GO!!!! The DNC is taking place about a half an hour away from where I sit, but I can feel the energy clear out here on the plains near the western slope.

I actually had little tears of joy. The last time I cried about anything political was the 2000 election, and those tears came from a place of absolutely hopeless disillusionment and disbelief.

I sincerely believe we are on the brink of a change in America and I believe even more strongly that Obama is going to lead us to that change.

I wonder if this is how our parents and grandparents felt about Kennedy.

Now, I gotta go sign up to volunteer... You ought to do the same. Be the change you can be and do NOT let your dreams be deferred for one more moment.

There Are Never Bad Kids....

2008-08-27T15:42:00.000-07:00

This is Riley, one of my nephews and king of my fan club.This morning, just as soon as he brought his naked little self down the stairs, this beautiul blue-eyed boy walked right up to me and acted like he was going to hug me.
He got to where I could almost wrap my arms around him and he smiled and spit in my face and said "I hate you Aunt Moses." Then he laughed and ran away singing something that I couldn't understand.
It's another bright and joyful day in the neighborhood.
Nothing but love love love and good times.
At least I always know what to expect.

Sometimes You Just Have To Stay Up All Night

2008-08-14T06:12:00.000-07:00

Sometimes you just have to stay up all night.
or something just like it...
I'm pretty sure you have to experience hunger and exhaustion and a little fear and just a smidgon of hope.
I'm pretty sure, after tonight, that it's the hope that carries us forward....
Mighty powerful claim to fame for such a small agent.
I'm back in the land of no humidity.
Consequently, my hair looks like a million bucks.
Go figure.

OK, I guess I'll Run For President

2008-06-02T21:07:00.000-07:00

So, my main complaint about politicians is that they invariably have some miserable skeletons in their closets if they've achieved the kind of success necessary to run for the highest office in the land.
I've threatened to do this for years now, and it's clearly time to either dive in or take off my suit. Nobody wants me to take off my suit, so I'm diving in.
I believe it's completely unproductive to claim any kind of affiliation (like Republican or Democrat or Libertarian or Independent) and am therefore going to run, most specifically, without affiliation.
I'm banking on a fresh and clever platform to grab the attention of big time sponsors (like Tang and Oreos) to help me sell my new and much greatly improved political ambition to the largely uninformed and scary-simple masses.
I know I will probably have to acquiesce to some of the conventions that Americans embrace when being aggressively marketed to, and to that end I will recruit Sponge Bob or Flavor Flav to speak favorably about me in strategically placed medias and I vow to post hundreds of thousands of promo stickers above urinals and in bathroom stalls in all the bars from coast to coast.
My platform will consist of just a couple important elements.
1. In order to procreate (make new babies) all persons involved will have to pass a series of intelligence and personality tests. Failure to comply will result in mandatory sterilization. Failure to pass said tests will result in one of several different consequences that I will develop with my crack team of cabinet members.
2. All methamphetamine production will completely disappear and meth addicts (who make up, like, 70 percent of all incarcerated humans here in America) will have some sort of meaningful rehabilitation and be returned to society as useful and productive members of our culture.
So, there's my top two reasons for tonight.
One last thing: Respect. Just like Aretha said... Show it to me show it to me show it to me. Respect your families, respect your mad-expensive "stuff" that you can't stop acquiring... Respect the fact that everybody you do meet, for real, is fighting some kind of battle. We just need to see, feel, teach and be: Respect.

Top Ten Things That Make Me Happy

2008-04-16T22:18:00.000-07:00

In the course of the last 20 years or so I've seen lots of stuff on My Little World Wild Web.
Both my parents, at some point called me and said, "My web is broken"... that always cracked me up because (one) it's not really "their" web and (two) it's most unlikely that it's broken.
It also made me remember that when our famliy started depending on the Internet -- we paid by the minute. Yep, for all you kids out there: It's true. When it all began, you had to pay by the minute, just like long distance. Aaaahhh, I'm getting all misty just thinking about our humble beginnings here...
But, most recently I've had cause to consider the "Vibe Content" of any and every thing I put out here. For that matter, I've had cause to pause regarding EVERYthing that ANYbody puts out there.... You know, the Easterners among us (I don't mean Nantucket or Martha's Vineyard. Ferrreal, I'm thinking about the Chinese... Japanese... Zens and Taoists) belive that everything you think or say releases that "vibe" (energy, Qi...) into the universe
At this point, I can't help but believe that is true. Life is so very delicate and short.
And, then I find myself thinking about all the bonafide trash that's passed through my fingertips. The zillions of surveys that are so.... they just demonstrate a complete disregard for critical thinking... Stuff like "What do you think Brittany Should Do With Her Kids That She Refuses to Pay Any Attention To?" kinda surveys...
Things that just so don't matter.
So, Now it's a Wednesday night in Denver and I'm all wrapped up in thinking about Things That Mke Me Smile...
So, tell me... tell me do...
What makes you smile.
Ten whole things.
Here's mine:
1. The sound of kids laughing. Primarily mine, but a really close second would be any of my relatives kids. God it makes me happy to hear kids laugh.
2. The "Hello" from someone I love on the other end of a phone.
3. Songs that make me dance in the kitchen. There's just really nothing like Kitchen Dancing.
4. The sound of bacon sizzling on a stove top.... preferably mine. Yea, I know it will probably kill me, but... damn.... it's bacon.
5. Watching snow fall. Any where, any time. It makes everything so quiet and clean and ... quiet.
6. The smell of Chlorine.... A good, well-maintained pool...jumping a fence when you're all hot and sweaty... not getting caught.
7. A dumpster full of brand new Levis and Doc Marten shoes ... at the end of a semester... in a town where little rich kids are supported by their parents and they haven't learned the value of a dollar yet.
8. Any documentary that illustrates the ultimate battle between the "haves" and the "have nots" in any way.
9. Love letters.
10. The smell of Moon Flowers, Lilacs, compost, Lavendar and patchouli.

(and, an addendum to my Top TEN list: The smell of hippies at a bluegrass festival....Mmmm mmmmm mmm)

Ok. So tell me. I'm serious.
What's your Top Ten?

Most Relevant Cliches For Today

2008-03-29T20:00:00.001-07:00

With great privilege comes great responsibility.
and
What you allow you teach.
yeaaaaa... there's that.
Relative only in that the longer I live the more secure I become in my belief that people with the most privilege have the least common sense and respect. Respect for others, respect for crazy expensive stuff... It just never ceases to blow me away.
And, I've seen this world where people allow other people to treat them with the greatest abuse or lack of kindness and empathy... and subsequently are creating these humans that are taught that these things are of no value. So, go ahead and allow whatever you're too tired or lazy or scared to change and guarantee that it will live on forever.

Privledge and Poverty

2008-03-29T08:35:00.001-07:00

John Scalzi's post on "Being Poor" has initiated a whole world of thought in my already short-circuited melon. There is another post making the rounds right now about privilege. It was developed by a group of students at the University of Indiana and asks a series of questions regarding what you do and/or don't have, how you're treated, your exposure to critical thinking and a number of other questions designed to illustrate privilege or lack there-of.
I can't help but think this consideration is so relative on a number of different levels, and so revealing on a bunch more.
Relative in that some people today are quite literally raised by televisions and video games and have TVs in every room, but they've never been taken to a doctor or dentist. Relative in that so many have so much but couldn't squeeze a hug out if they had to.
Relative in that we're nurturing a whole new generation of our future leaders to believe that there really is no value in saying, "God bless you" or giving of themselves in the form of community service.... Relative in that, our parents' generation took it for granted that we had family and we stayed connected with said family and helped love, nurture and look-after them when and if the need arose. It shames me to know that our children don't have any of that nature left in them. So, yea - it's all relative.
And, at exactly the same time: This is all so revealing. The things that we as a culture have placed importance on are really of so little consequence. This revelation does make me wonder what will become of us as we evolve even further...

10 Things I Know About Me

2008-03-19T07:26:00.000-07:00

My daughter, Chelsea, tagged me with this blog-i-ness... the object is to post 10 things about yourself and forward this on to, ooooohhh I dunno, like, 5 friends and have them post 10 things about themselves... and send it back to the person who sent to you as well. Since I simply don't know even 5 people who maintain a blog, I'm just doing this to be doing this and get more familiar with the whole blogging process.

1. I have a half-sister in Japan that I just found out about.
2. I've gotten to experience the thrill of a 10 minute Standing Ovation.
3. I hate to go shopping and really prefer the fashions that went out of style years ago.
4. I can be a collassal pain and way too dramatic.
5. I love traveling on a train more than any other mode of travel ever.
6 When our family beagle died some years ago it broke my heart in two and I'll never have another dog for just that reason.
7. I measure my self-worth by the successes and failures of my children...
8. I used to surround myself with more stuff than you could fill an antique store with - now I've apparently gone all minimal... and I really like white... white everything.
9. Even though I know it's bad for me, I really feel good when I've laid out in the sun.
10. The only recurring bad dream I have is one where my teeth keep falling out at bad times.

Go fiugre.
tag. You're it.