West side video love

Tuesday is one of my "mom" days, i.e. I have baby sitting covered and I get to do something for me. I didn't have firm plans set for today. When I got a last minute email from my pal Celia Chavez to come out and be an extra in her music video in Santa Monica, I thought, "Done!"

It has been gorgeous in Los Angeles lately. The kind of weather that makes to you want to live out your life here. Low to mid 70s, sunny, blue skies, mild breeze. Perfect. I was actually a little worried that it might be cold and foggy out west being that it's been so mild over on the east side. I checked the weather and it was the same. Great.

For those of you not familiar with the greater Los Angeles acu-weather forecast, you learn quickly that weather varies greatly depending on where you live. The coast gets June gloom. The valley roasts under 100+ degree days in late summer and on sporadic heat waves. The same goes for the east side. I swear when you cross I-5, the temperature rises or falls 5 degrees. We have desert climate where I live. Cool at night with wind from the canyon and days that can bake under long sunny days with limited large tree shade.

That explained, I was psyched to head west on a perfect day to help out a friend. Turns out, she'd invited some other common friends to be part, so bonus! I knew I would be able to see and catch up with other old friends I hadn't seen in a while.

I pulled a few "looks" that met the wardrobe spec and threw in some fun heels and espadrilles, then took off toward the beach. Actually, we didn't shoot at the beach. My friend had another friend offer up her home on a quiet street. Very generous. And upon arriving, not only was I welcomed by the home owner, but I was ushered in to a huge backyard (double lot, easily) with a gigantic tree in the center.

Now this wasn't some sweet gum or palm, this was one of those MAGICAL trees, the kind that reach up with gnarled branches, shimmer with lanterns and chandeliers and beckon you to climb up into its arms and take a long nap. Within 10 minutes of getting there, I was up in the tree. I didn't head up very far because of my "You're someone's mother now" excuse I use these days. I included a few pics from the tree here.

I also sat down in one of the lovely resting spaces, this one a couch and table near the back of the house, and got to know the owner, a New Zealander who makes coasters with art and inspirational messages on terra cotta squares. She was hospitable and inquisitive. I enjoyed our conversation about transitions and life in LA and art and connections. More on her coasters here.

Now, as with most productions, this one was running behind schedule. Lots of late arrivals, which is fine. I wasn't there for the shoot. I was there to see some friends and if it worked out, be an extra in a party scene. It was a good way to approach the day. I figured I would probably not be around for much shooting even if it was on schedule because I had to drive back in rush hour traffic to relieve my sitter at 5 p.m.

And, I wasn't the only one with an early departure time... my old pal Will Hawkins was there for part of the pre-shoot wait time. I haven't seen him since before Riley was born. He's got a busy marketing company that keeps him several months here, then NYC, then Chicago. You know the drill. I knew Will from his touring musician days. In fact, he was the person who first got me over to London to tour. I owe him that introduction and many more. I met Will while attending the Northeast Regional Folk Alliance (NERFA) 2005? Conference at Kutcher's in Montecello, NY. He was rooming with my collaborating partner and friend Tom Glynn, and I crashed on their couch on a crazy tour schedule that had me driving to Carlisle, PA the next day.

I've seen Will go through many transformations and I'm happy to see him in his latest because he seems really happy. It's always great to witness that sort of things for people you've known for so long. We caught up and as he joked about getting older, I mused, "Well, I'm the one with the kid." And so it goes...

I had to leave. The first shot had yet to be shot and the male extras started a pick-up basketball game in another part of the lawn. I'm sure with that setting the final video will be lovely for Cel. I just had to get back and get my daughter.

So, a couple hours go by and on the topic of videos, my hub and I started our post-dinner couch routine looking for clips of "Pumping Iron" on Youtube, to no avail. A few nights earlier, we watched out of sequence clips of "Cocksucker Blues". Yes, this is what you get on Apple TV with no Netflix subscription. At least the Rolling Stones night led us to a slew of rare Beatles interviews about breaking success and the rise of Apple Corp's accounting troubles. This night, we gave in and rented another "everyone's talking about this show" show, American Horror Story.

Talk about a crazy show! Amazing title sequence. Super creepy suspense and action. Winding plot lines, in a good way. I think I may have found my new addiction. It even had me having monkey brain when my body decided to wake up after 5 hours of sleep on the dot, i.e. 4 a.m.

So video love, don't fail me now. I've got 2 seasons to devour and a really comfy couch. I don't know what I learned about myself or my journey on Tuesday other than I felt recharged and alive and connected with friends. Maybe that's all it needed to be. I really enjoyed seeing R when I got home and was a little sad that I didn't see her much that day at all. Oh, and I've been reading The Second Nine Months, a memoir by Vicki Glembocki, and it has been a wondrous thing to find someone else who struggled so much with the motherhood journey... and lived to tell. It's relief in the way you sometimes hear "your story" coming out of someone else's mouth in a 12 step room. I feel better about all the ups and downs of this job and am beginning to know it's not a bad thing to feel at all. So until I have another shake up or down, I'm sticking to it.

Today, we have swim class and play group. It's a lovely chilly foggy day on the east side. I can only hope it will stay that way all day, but I know the sun will burn through sometime midmorning. Such is life in LA...

Whoa, can I please get off this ridiculous ride?!?

It all began with the 3rd supermoon for 2013... and Jesus, can I just say that I'm ready for a little less cosmic drama. I feel like I've been on the most physical, emotional, and psychological roller coaster for the last week. Granted, I love a big full moon as much as the next stargazer, but I can live without all the crazy that comes with it. I'll just try to keep it honest and get my side of the street clean on a number of big events.

To begin with, I had a big communications misunderstanding with a friend. Sadly, I guess, I got the whole thing off on the wrong foot by texting the ice breaking issue. I know, my bad. Honestly, I have a really difficult time bringing up potentially controversial topics with friends and loved ones and yes, I chickened out to get the ball rolling. Text and email SUCK to this end. All kinds of misinterpretations occur. Anger rises. Tempers flare. Defenses go up, and tears are shed. Yuck. I apologized for my part in the drama, but it still makes for a big couple of days explaining my part and my fears to another trusted friend. Not to mention, you can't take words back. Sometimes they linger and the relationship changes from its previous state. You can only hope that, with time, you will come to a new and better place with each other.

Next up, the baby was walking on the back patio again and flopped down, as she tends to do a lot these days. All pretty familiar territory, except this time, she cut the inside of her lip with her new teeth and had a river of blood stream out of her mouth. I seriously did not even think or flip out. I ran into EMT mode and immediately took her in to get the blood out with a paper towel. The bleeding stopped shortly thereafter and due to a delayed icing of the lip, my daughter now resembles Angelina Jolie... but only on her right side. It's hard to watch a baby bleed like that. It got my head going in all different future projections like arriving to see your teenage daughter bloodied by a car accident. Also, there was this weird reaction to seeing her blood. I don't know that I've ever seen that much. It reminded me that she has blood in her, and a lot of it. It humanized her further for me.  Sometimes, as a new mother, I forget that she's actually a person. She is such a full time job that I get lost in the details of her routine or just try to keep up with her running around.

Then, we had gig night. I prepped for a month for a Friday night show, one I only took at the behest of folks who told me in the past that it was hard to get to a show on a school night. So, I did my routine of social media and newsletter promotion, did the "drum up interest" scene, tried to rally up a band (sadly no success there in LA's summer "touring season"), and then the strangest thing happened, maybe for the first time in my career. No one came. I should interject that my husband came, but I can think of a much better date night than sitting at a bar watching me play tunes.

So, that is a whole different kind of emotional land mine... You can't help but go to, why am I doing this? why take on the expense of playing live (gas, food, drink, babysitter)? does anyone even care? And then there's the embarrassment of falling short as a professional both to yourself or to a club/booker. Finally, there's the feeling of shit, I'm better than this crap. I got the babysitter, sent the email to the booker saying I could be late because the babysitter came 30 minutes later, engaged the audience, played a good set, tipped the bartender, watched the opener and then stayed for a bit of the act after me. This was a 22-year-old, Stevie Nicks-looking, The Voice contestant-sounding, young and slightly stage-awkward young woman who filled the room. If music is a young man's game and if the world is interested in that Aguilera style voicing, then frankly, I'm not in the right field. I don't sound like that. It's not my vocal ability nor is it one I hope to achieve.

So, I decided to put it behind me and focus on the weekend time with my family. We celebrated another first birthday of one of R's playgroup mates, while also checking out the new house of his parents, who are my friends. Then on a foggy Sunday morning, we got our asses out the door and took the baby for a walk along the L.A. River, which was a nice discovery. Speaking of discoveries and the universe taking care of you, as we walked along the bike path, I noticed a yard sale near one of the entry points. I wanted to stop and check it out. As fortune would have it, it was for the departure of a dear old friend of mine, who I had just mentioned to my husband. I thought she was moving north of Griffith Park, but as it would happen, she was moving to Seattle... this week... and she hadn't seen Riley since she was a few months old. It was a nice unexpected visit and one I'm so glad to have had, even if to say goodbye for a while.

I'm now sitting in my back yard on a lovely cool afternoon with a gentle breeze. I can watch the birch tree and bougainvillea sway in the wind. I eye the ripe cherry tomatoes I can use in a salad later. I hear birds chirp and these Biblical-sized flying beetles swoop down to the patio. It's a really good day, and I feel clear. I don't know what all these events are telling me yet, maybe nothing at all, but I really feel like my life is in transition. It's so hard to not try and control it. At this moment, I'm hoping I can be happy with that and not be such a malcontent, as I have been of late.

Ethiopiques 4

I began my day early (5 am) after a family dinner the night before that ended at midnight with cousins visiting from Austin, TX. I was beat, and these days I can't tell if I have the beginning of a cold or just bad lingering allergies. My glands were tender. My throat sore. My nose stuffed up. So, after trying unsuccessfully to catch up on sleep a few times, I threw myself together to have a lunch in Little Ethiopia with a fellow fit model friend.

It's her hood and she selected the restaurant. I simply gave her the request, "I want to see you and I want to get Ethiopian food (so I can eat with my hands and not have it be for my baby)." She accepted the challenge with gusto and said, "Then, we're going to Rahel's."

Off we walked from her apartment to the main drag on Fairfax. We hadn't seen one another since shortly after I had R so there was much to discuss and hear about. She's a pretty busy lady--writing/directing a feature, beginning a documentary, doing a weekly improv class, starting a new fitness class regimen, working the fit jobs and planning for her Burning Man character's story time act. She even bought and designed the artwork for her own custom hurdy gurdy! (which I'm here to report sounds like a cross between a harmonium and a organ grinder monkey, more on it here)

As we entered the restaurant, I heard the beginnings of an old friend of a cd. "Ah, Ethiopiques 4," I said. For those of you who know the compilation, you may immediately know the sound. It's a classic collection of Ethiopian jazz from 1969-1974, and proved to be the perfect soundtrack for our lunch buffet.

Man, I miss Ethiopian food. I love the squishy flat bread (injera) and all those amazing vegetable dishes (Rahel's is vegan) made from cabbage, lentils, yams, carrots and string beans. I think it had been over 13 years since I last ate it. I used to incorporate the fare into my mix of restaurants while living in San Francisco, but somehow managed to completely miss out while in NYC.

Besides a lovely visit with a very positive energy filled friend, I was taken on a bit of an African theme. First off, the food. Next, the music which reminds me of listening to that cd on repeat while living in San Francisco, as well as teasing my brain with reminiscence of my trip to Morocco in 1998--yes, yes, I know it's not Moroccan music, but the feel of its sexy, mysterious melodies and arrangement remind me of wandering souks and getting lost in time. Finally, I heard from my younger cousin who is currently living in Kenya and moving to Malawi. I guess between having a baby and catching up on sleep, I missed that she was there. I had a few very nice exchanges with her and learned of the blog she's keeping about her times there. I was happy to see her doing so well and traveling to such lengths, as I know she's dreamed of doing all her life.

So, I was in a misty African-themed head space and the message I left with from my lunch companion was "Be gentle with yourself." Maybe it's the message I've needed to hear for a while, especially as it relates to finding "me" again, with the new context of "mother" added. And I should add that in the last week or so, R has turned a corner yet again, becoming even more little girl-like and less baby-like. She's begun snuggling and sounding out full belly laughs. She loves her swing, which she refers to as "Weeee!" She's now climbing off the back patio to the ground instead of using the smaller brick steps. She has an assortment of new words that seem to grow daily. She loves playing with the hose in the backyard, the light switches throughout the house and her star turtle. She's a funny, loving little girl who steals my heart all the time.

I'm going to try to remember to be gentle with myself and perhaps I'll return to that Ethiopique 4 soundtrack as my guide to swerve slowly instead of rushing, to remember a cool peaceful approach versus a chaotic anxious panic. And I got in that nap to catch up after the baby went down tonight. Between that and a cup of hot tea, I feel like I may be on the mend.

Are you feeling it?

In my day to day scanning of facebook, I find some interesting articles. One I discovered last night was about why music gives us chills. Now I guess I'm part of the "50% that does" as the article stated, as in 50% of people feel chills when listening to music. 

My first reaction was, "Who doesn't feel chills at some point?" But that's a similar reaction to my other most popular question, "How can you NOT hear an out of tune note?" These are not judgmental replies, but rather, a real bemusement on my part. When I take something so much for granted, it seems impossible to imagine it any other way. But that's another story for another time...

What's interesting about the article is it goes on to point out that the chill factor often hits when the brain is teased into thinking the music is going to that special section, and then does not. It's the unexpectedness that brings on the chills, and the biggest pay off in dopamine response tends to come when you're anticipating the "chill" event and then it occurs. 

I'm still not sure I totally get the process they describe, but it was cool to read some science on a very personal and visceral bodily response (that I have) to music (something I love and try to do as a calling). That said, it's unexpectedness that makes you "feel" it. I guess that follows. I know I was enjoying some unexpected and "firing on all cylinders" joy that my daughter had on her backyard swing this weekend.

I know I get a huge rise when I'm listening to live music and someone goes to a chord that is not in the "pop" canon. I always say those chords slay me. I've made it somewhat of a point to try and incorporate them into my songwriting for a while now. I never stopped to think if my reaction to these chords or "special moments" was personal to me alone, or the 50% that might get chills, and that there are some folks who no matter how clever the turn of phrase or diversion of musical path, they won't hear it that way. Hmmm. Makes you re-think quite a bit about life and how you perceive it.

I don't know, maybe this is not at all something new. Or maybe I'm overthinking a simple idea. I remember at a certain point of trying to write simpler. I find it as I type this entry, several edits along the way. My mind becomes more susceptible to distraction when I'm not on a tight schedule. I can't tell if I go into over thinking because I have the time to actually think about it or if I'm filling that open time with it, almost like creating a puzzle for lack of mental challenges. Some folks do the NYT crossword puzzle...

So, are you feeling it? Right now, I'm feeling not chills but some nice peace of mind. I actually got a cumulative 8 hours of sleep for the first time in a week and honestly, I feel like I got years of my life back. Funny thing was the baby had nothing to do with the messed up sleep. It was my first babies, the cats. And now I look forward to a show on Friday and am thinking about the set list. Now that I know 50% of y'all don't get chills, I wonder what are the best songs to put on that set. I'm going to let my mind wander and see where it lands... and you can make suggestions to what you want to hear. Maybe we'll meet in the middle.

The Golden Hour

So after the last post, I think I needed to take a moment and not be so heavy in this blog. No one wants to constantly read about the downers of life. Let alone, the news of the last few weeks... So much heartbreak and negativity out there over the Trayvon Martin outcome, the recent Rolling Stone cover, the MLB and NBA scandals over racial slurs... I want to take a step back from all that and focus on one lovely thing, The Golden Hour.

It is upon us here in Los Angeles as I write. It's that pre- sunset time between 7 and 8 pm. The sky goes peachy and the sun glows like a huge orange fire ball. The mountains on my side of town morph into a gray-blue or lavender hue, and time moves a little slower. I am usually on my hour down from baby duty. I often sit on my back patio and catch up on emails. I prepped dinner tonight. I have to fold some clothes too. I am currently sitting on a pillow on the floor looking out my front window as the sun descends.

My body feels tender, and my joints are a little sore. It was my first time back to yoga in a few weeks, and the studio wasn't particularly ventilated. So, we basically had a bikram class. I was sweating like a pig. I probably pushed myself a bit more than I would due to the hiatus, and the heat probably allowed my body to go further than it should have. Ouch tomorrow!

So, the Golden Hour, it's my gratitude time. I'm usually silent, as is the house besides the muffled ocean bluffs from Miss R's white noise machine in her room. Sometimes the AC is still on cooling off her room that cooks in the late afternoon sun until it's finally dusk.

Gratitude. Today, I'm grateful that I could write and record music with my old collaborator, Joe Lewis, in London. I was grateful that I had a keyboard to compose some incidentals on for the piece. I was grateful that my allergies didn't kill my voice or tax my nose. I was grateful to get an iced coffee from Cafe Figaro in Los Feliz before yoga, and maybe the most butter-laden croissant of recent history. I'm grateful that Riley had a good day and was generally happy. I was grateful that I had the same.

These are simple pleasures. I used to disregard them in lieu of how many things I got checked off my list. Maybe this appreciation comes with age. Maybe it travels with quietude. Time to think or appreciate things like watching the sun set.

At this moment, I'm happy to be alive, to have my family, to live in this house, to recognize and enjoy silence of volume and of headspace. I'm lucky to have amazing friends and two great kitties. I hold hope for the future in my life and for humanity in general. I wish you all good evenings and breathe deeply.

OK to be not OK at it

With the beginning of a new week comes the Monday Sanborn Sprouts meet up. This is the bi-weekly playgroup my daughter is part of in town. I actually love these times too because it's a guarantee that I will interact with one adult that day, specifically another mother.

For those not on the parenthood roller coaster, I'll explain my situation. When I happen to go out of the house with my daughter, there's no real rule that says I'll be able to converse with another person, let alone one who understands or relates to some of my daily stresses... For example, I made my baby cry after raising my voice to her...never mind that the message was "Riley, NO!" as she was about to crawl into the cat's litter box...

Yeah, that's the stuff we go over in these times. We share war stories. Occasionally one of us will have a new project we're working on and talk about it. I'm often asked about my music work. Sadly, I usually answer, "Well, I'm not doing much of it these days..." It pains me to say that. It took me forever to get to the point where I was actually doing music fairly regularly that to be without it, I fear for my identity.

A little backstory, I was not always a working musician. In fact, for a long time, I didn't even play it in public. It seemed like a fairy tale. My folks were always telling me to find a real job. I spent my entire college career trying on internships to find the one that "fit". I'd worked in TV, film, magazines, public relations, and sales for most of my time before committing to music and fashion work. And let's face it, I knew with my height that I should really try to exploit the latter direction before I hit 40.

So, at said play group, I mentioned that I ordered a book called Sippy Cups are not for Chardonnay by Stefanie Wilder Taylor, to read a book that made me feel better about feeling badly about motherhood. One mother laughed and said "You're so honest." God, I hope so. I didn't spend as much time in meetings as I have to sit around and lie about how I feel about one of the biggest changes in my life. So yeah, I'm not a fan of motherhood. I don't want to be misunderstood, I LOVE MY DAUGHTER, but I'm not great at the job. And I'm not one of those women who dreamt of having kids or who felt everything light up when they put the baby on my chest. In fact, I think my exact thoughts were, "Oh shit!" So yeah, I need some levity.

I think it's a fairly common reaction too. Not all women are cut out to be mothers in my opinion. Some know in advance. Some find out after the fact. Some may actually be good mothers and think they're crap at it. I'm not sure where I am in this spectrum. I try. In fact, I try daily, hourly, by the minute. There are good days and bad days.

Today seems to be on the positive side. It's been filled with good naps, good meals, fun at the wading pool and on the slide, and maybe a visit to a new mother friend of mine in the neighborhood. It will be interesting to see how she's handling it. A little year along perspective. Maybe I'll be reminded of something by witnessing her. The universe sends us messages in the most unique ways. So, we'll see about it. Sometimes just admitting the negative feelings around motherhood wrack me with such guilt. I mean, R didn't ask for a mom who's not keen on the job. She's just a really loving little girl who loves her father and I implicitly... at least for now. Dreading the teen years already. Or maybe she'll be a sweet girl who isn't terribly difficult. Maybe she'll have a hard time with people in her life, like bullies. I just assume she'll be a fighter. She may be more sink than swim. And that would be even more heartbreaking in this job.

So, I'm trying to strike a balance between who I am and who this role requires me to be. They may not be mutually exclusive. I hope not. It will be best for all involved if that is the outcome. Plus, that little girl deserves better than some woman resentfully half-assing it. Wish me luck!

Life of Riley and other Wild Joys: Encounters

Life of Riley and other Wild Joys: Encounters: So, yesterday, I took a MOM day off and had a date with LACMA. Not some new mom lactation support group, as my friend Jefferson kidded, but ...