the big recital

it is so awesome to see your kids work so hard at something new (not to mention my own effort put in, encouraging and sitting through nearly every practice, five days a week!) and reach a goal, like today's piano recital.

i love hearing mayan play--she's grown so much over the last 9 months since her lessons began, and her pieces have been getting progressively more complex, plus she's written her own compositions. she now self-guides herself through the daily practice and has a natural confidence that i admire.

this is isadore's first recital and has only been playing for a few months--the progress is much slower so i've had to really be patient, but it always pays off! just when she feels like giving in, something clicks, and she beams with accomplishment. she must have played "mary had a little lamb" 10 times a day for the past few weeks! amazing since at one point she was like "forget it! i'll never get it right, i'm quitting piano!" she just needed to do it on her own time. she was very nervous but faced the recital (and she was the first to play) with bravery and grace. they were both so beautiful! aw, shucks....we were proud parents today!

isadore's 'mary had a little lamb' (duet with teacher)


mayan's 'trumpet song' (duet) and 'rainbow colors'

blake's mom was able to make it, which was nice since she bought us our piano and has such fond memories of her own childhood piano lessons

and my 20's come to a close....

better things to do today than sit on the computer, so i am "phoning this one in." blake and i dug up this song a few weeks ago, neither of us knew the other one loved it. seemed appropriate for a birthday blog post. i noticed that it came out three years before i was born.

enjoy....and don't you DARE make fun of their hair!!


(PS: MOM, make sure dad sees this!)

KANSAS - Dust In The Wind
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DM

A few weeks ago, we splurged on a road trip to Seattle so Blake and I could see Depeche Mode. They've been around for decades, and are one of our mutual favorite bands...it was high time we catch them on their rare West Coast appearance. Seattle was the closest stop and I see why--the Seattle show draws not only the fans from that city but from Portland and Canada (BC) area as well. This made it difficult since we would have to find a way to make the trip, stay in a hotel and get someone to watch the kids. But my mom happily obliged and we got a sweet little mini-vacation out of it.

Mom was great to have with us, especially on the road, handing the kids snacks, reading to them books and she even brought a stash of pipe cleaners which kept the kids entertained, making crowns and jewelry out of them. Here they are in their creations:
We arrived just afternoon and decided the best thing to do, based on our friend Joi's suggestion, was to take a harbor cruise (we'd already see the normal main attractions last October, here, here, here, and here; and who can forget the infamous pee-tea incident)--this way we could see the city as a whole and get to be on a boat, a sensation we've all been craving since this was our first year without the sailboat. It might not have been exciting as sail, but it was really nice. Relaxing and thanks to their narration pretty interesting, too. Like, the guide told us where Fraiser's apartment would have been if the view from the show was really shot in Seattle (as opposed to L.A.)--of course totally unrealistic since it was from a radio tower hill. Silly stuff like that. Anyway they served us beer and we ate sandwiches over the course of the 1-hour ride.
My Mommy and me!

A great shot of Mayan and freshly-fallen top tooth:
Mom chilled inside with the girls, while Blake hung out on deck with George on his back. I love this shot!
What a good Papa! Thanks for bringing us on this adventure, B!
On the last stretch, we watched port workers move those massive containers around on the cargo ships. While I took this, the operator or the mechanism slipped and almost dropped the whole thing--now that would have been exciting...
Ah, breathing the bay area with my sweetie:

Afterwards we checked into our hotel, and treated ourselves to a nice dinner at Etta's Seafood over-looking Pike Place Market. just before the show, we set Grandma up with the kids and a movie and I nursed George down to sleep just in time. We were going to walk to Key Arena but it had just started to rain, heavier than a sprinkle, so we called a cab instead. Blake and I stifled snickers on the way since our cabbie was up to his knuckle picking his nose the whole time as he chatted on his cell phone--talk about multi-tasking! Then when we got out, I just about died when Blake says to the guy "Thanks for PICK-ing us up..." (heavy-emphasis on the "pick") and didn't want to take the change the guy was holding out with his booger-contaminated fingers.

We had some time to walk around before the music started, so I started a quest for "good beer." I thought it was hopeless when I realized the arena must have a contract with the makers of MGD and Rolling Rock, but on our way to our seats we discovered our section had a hidden bar that served Fat Tire--score! Albeit one beer costs $8 a pop, but that's all part of the experience, like $10 popcorn at the theaters (or so I justified Blake.) Drinks were not allowed into the bowl, so we found a space to lean and watched people walk by, proving to be on e of the most enjoyable parts of the evening. First you had different age groups--those that were probably in their 20's when DM was at their peak, and some that may not have been born when their first single hit. then there were the outfits, always a favorite past time of mine, to see what people are wearing. Some girls were really dolled up in goth-y makeup and fishnets--it made me regret right away not wearing my back-up outfit I had bought, a dress and black ankle strap heels instead of grey skinny jeans and a sparkly sweater, which was admitted more comfortable. It was most interesting to guess what these people did during their day-jobs--did they work in an office and only pull out their black platform boots hidden behind their white button up shirts, once or twice a year? Others seemed to live the rock and roll lifestyle on a more regular basis. Certain couples looked like they could be on second dates. And then there were people who just seemed out of place, but you know, you never know what kind of music people will like. this part of the night was fun.

What I've told people when they ask me about the show is that: I am glad I went, and the music was good. All of those things were true. But we were not without complaints--the largest being the visual effects...they were AWFUL! The stage had behind it one of those huge screens that looks like a metal cage until an image appears, and a disco ball shape of the same material. The first song began ("In Chains") and the face of an old man on one side of the screen came on and a young boy on the other. The images slowly morphed during the song so the old man became the young boy and vice versa; not a terrible image, creative...but during this on the ball was an image of a woman on a treadmill. She just climbed and climbed and climbed and never got anywhere--the symbolism I got but the actual image was just distracting. But it just got worse, because with each song came a new, totally unrelated image that would abruptly end when the songs ended, no continuity whatsoever. My conflicted brain got a break when they merely imposed distorted color images of the actual band playing--not creative, but enhancing and allowed the audience to focus on the music and players. The worst one (or what I thought was the worst one at the time) was gum balls. Yup, just gum balls. It appeared that the "sphere" was filled with gum balls at the start of the song and one at a time they would "fall" and appear in the larger flat screen. It seriously looked like a PC screen saver from 1994--and I can even remember what song was playing at the time, only the dumb gum balls. I mean when I think Depeche Mode, I don't think of colorful, novelty chewing gum--it just didn't fit. the last visual straw for me was the last song. Blake and I had started to regret not buying a ticket for Mayan, when we saw some other 7-10 year olds there with their parents. Until the very end, when we looked at each other in relief that we DIDN'T bring her. The band begins playing Strange Love, and a real video comes on screen--a chicly appointed apartment, an ornate chair in front of a fireplace, and in comes a women dressed very provocatively, and lounges in the chair. In comes a sexy Asian gal in a dominatrix style number, and begins peeling off the other girls stocking, and ever so slowly proceeds to suck on her toes, which brings girl #1 much pleasure. By the end of the song, girl #1 has her breast bared, but just in time girl#2 stands up and leaves the room. Okaaaay. Again, I get it, but 1) it was the first actual "produced" video image during the whole show so it seemed like it came out of nowhere and 2) it was totally inappropriate for an all-ages show. A little warning before the lesbian-soft-porn would have been nice.

So to balance out that complaint, there were other things I liked--for instance, Martin Gore (who is not the front man, but writes all the music and lyrics and plays multiple instruments and passes on the front man position to Dave Gahan to get all the glory) had his moment where Dave left the stage and he sung two songs. They were songs I normally don't give much love to when I hear the albums, but hearing him sing them gave me a new appreciation. He has a beautiful voice and in one particular song, which I never got before, I think he is addressing his out-of-the-ordinary position in the band and this gave him validation and a moment in the spot light. Good stuff. They also did a very good selection of material spanning many albums, and one I very much hoped to hear, called Precious--you never know what you'll hear when a band has 12 studio albums plus plenty of other material, and I was not disappointed.

Again, glad we went. Even though we really couldn't afford it I knew we'd regret not going. With the added bonus of mom-time and getting to see a beloved band with my honey, and despite the fact that it wasn't the raddest show we've been to, we're very pleased that we made it happen.

in defense of michael

i am not ashamed to admit that i have shed more than a few tears over michael jackson's death. i realize that many folks are sick of the coverage and i can relate to that--there is still a world in chaos with new developments everyday! why stop everything for a pop star?

and why am I feeling defensive of michael jackson? i do not know exactly. i am embarrassed to admit that i don't have one of his albums other than a mix CD i requested from a friend last year which i play when i do deep-cleaning house chores, like washing windows. but i do adore many of his singles--billie jean is my favorite. and i should also admit my strange "connection" to the jackson's, being that my maiden name is jackson (not to mention my middle name is katherine) and i was regularly teased in school as being related to michael jackson, the joke in later years being that i would reply "yeah, we're both white!" i guess one of the reason i am moved to write about his death is that with motherhood comes this undeniable nag from deep in ones heart that lets itself ask on such occasions "what if this were my child?" and the acknowledgment that everyone in the world is somebody's child, born of love and light, as hippie-dippy as it sounds. 

i think that if anyone takes the time to understand this young boy turned massive superstar's past it would be clear where all the craziness came from. imagine yourself one of nine children in a struggling family. imagine at a young age discovering that you had a talent that set you apart from the rest. imagine your father grabbing hold of that opportunity and suddenly your life is not your own. school gets out and you have to practice for hours until your evening gig (sometimes in strip clubs), getting home late, and having to get up and start all over again. i think all of us with children out there, or even those who spend time with them, understand how critical it is to have the freedom to play and be silly, magical beings--its essential for proper development. 

then imagine that suddenly your career (should a child even have a career??) as a singer and dancer in a musical group, takes off and you are adored by millions of fans. its a world that i don't think anyone can ever come close to really understanding unless you've lived it. imagine transitioning into adolescence this way. imagine that through all of this your father and manager shames you daily for your "fat nose" and then sends you out onstage under the lights in front of thousands. 

developmentally speaking, it would nearly impossible for anyone under these conditions to blossom into a well-adjusted adult. by the time you do reach the age of adulthood you are literally the most famous person in the whole world and you have more money than could be fathomed. do you think you might do some strange things, like have a pet monkey? or build a fantastical world based on the beloved character peter pan, the boy who never grew up? do you think you might seek out other people who understands you (amidst all the others who just want a piece of this fame) like fellow child stars and take them out on red carpet events? do you think your behavior would always make sense to others and not be picked apart everyday by scrutinizing eyes? what kind of world would you build around yourself if you lived this life? 

do you think that you might have issues with your looks and, with endless resources and very few people around you who are truly out for your best interest, feel justified in changing yourself in extreme ways? do you think its possible to handle all of this madness you would have quirks and vices and addictions that you battled?

when i decided to sit down and step away from my judgement, i began to see that this was a person who could really never grow up, who made decisions like a child, was likely motivated by childish motivations, and responded to this life in child-like ways. i wholly believe that if there had been actual sexual abuse, of which he had been accused of, evidence would  have been found...children are not good at covering their wrongdoings. to me it is much more likely that the accuser had motivation to benefit from the allegations, and that all of the confusing behavior, such as sharing bed with children, was as innocent as me sharing a bed with my own children, or as innocent as children's sleep-overs--because its fun. because you can whisper and giggle and eat snacks and watch movies, before passing out. how much would you crave this normalcy if your own childhood was taken up by hard work and celebrity? do any of us that venture to make that call to REALLY know what happened? no.

but the most painful realization is how much would such accusations affect you? going from adoration to superstardom to your name becoming synonymous with "freak" or "pervert." would you worry about how this affected your children? from everything i've seen/read/heard his children were very happy, mild-mannered, home-schooled kids with a deep loving attachment to their father. that actually having their faces covered ended up working because then they could sometimes have vacations, go to the beach, the movies, and go uncovered and know one knew who they were; they could feel normal. aside from being what we all thought he was, wished he was, accused him of being, he was a dedicated daddy to three children.

and to cast aside the cloud of reputation, there is always the music--music which nearly everyone has some memory. music that influenced nearly every artist after him, and as pointed out at the public service, broke down barriers for african-americans in all industries. he softened up many homes to the acceptance of black people--his music was so irresistible that color faded from being an issue for many. this has been a massive transition over the last 50 years and you cannot deny michael influence--he was the first black person to have such a large embrace in white american homes. and now look how far we've come: we've come so far as to elect a black man into the white house. this deserves to be acknowledged. yes, you could say, its just a pop star. it's just music. but music changes lives. and michael changed everything.

it should also be noted that michael literally set the records for generosity to charities. compassion and generousness is many times more intact in children than adults. 

the fact is, we share celebrities, we all own a little bit of them, we all feel connected over "knowing them." they are out there for us to idolize, or to throw stones at. we unleash our opinions on them, our judgments on them, our praise on them--sometime all in one breath. celebrities are a part of our culture, they are sacrificial lives, subject to our love and hate, whether or not it is deserved. and especially musicians: they pull us together, they fire us up, they speak into our hearts, we have a mostly one-sided connection with them of strange depth, and at them same time, they are merely people, just like us. equally sacred, equally holy, equally deserving of compassion and the benefit of the doubt.

one truth has been revealed to me as i have watched this event unfold, one thing that i didn't not know i felt in my heart until now and that is this: i do not believe in speaking ill of the dead. it could too easily be ourselves. it is too easy to be misunderstood or to be focused on in negative light. we all have regret, we all have issues and struggles, we all have weaknesses--it pains me to think that people would choose put those into focus when i am not around to defend myself. michael died just on the cusp of making a comeback where he hoped to shed the nickname that plagued him, "wacko jacko" and to again be considered an entertainer first, to bring joy to audiences through the power of music, after years of laying low, focusing on his family, and trying to overcome the shame of scandal. 

as al sharpton said, directly to michael's three grieving children: "Your daddy was NOT strange, but it was strange what he had to put up with."

is all of this memorializing taking a selective look at one's life, ignoring the bad and glorifying the life of this star--is it right? YES. i think so. when i die, when anyone dies, they want their image to be properly dusted, cleaned, and repaired, and viewed as a whole, not to be turned over have all of your chips and cracks examined. i vow from this day forward to give everyone who passes from this world that much-deserved respect.

i leave you with the tribute that i found so moving (and not just because i listen to the george michael record with this song all the time!) from tuesdays service, performed by stevie wonder:

Blake, Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, and me

Blake introduced me to Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds' The Boatman's Call as soon as our courtship began. Well, technically it didn't begin as a courtship as much as a fling with my piercer, but I digress.

I entered this mysterious and private world of Blake, a heavily-modified man with penetrating blue eyes, living in a large house but only inhabiting a small corner of it. The soundtrack to this one-man planet was so much different from my own--slower, more intense, romantic, filled with a slew of instrumental sounds that were lacking in my own limited musical selection. I had been listening to simple, fast-paced skater anthems suited well for drinking beer in a can and playing video games. Nick Cave was better suited for slow dancing, making-out, or kicking back wearing silk and velvet with a cup of tea or a scotch. Later, as I was educated on the history of Nick, I learned his earlier music, from his band The Birthday Party, was also rowdy beer-drinking musical fare, but this was not what captured me. Our romance blossomed over the piano ballads of "People They Ain't No Good" and "Lime Tree Arbor." When we were married less than a year later, our friend played "Into my Arms" at our wedding, summing up our contrasting natures that Nick so often writes of: the unreligious man scorned by God and the sweet optimistic Jesus-loving girl he falls for.

I don't believe in an interventionist God
But I know, darling, that you do
But if I did I would kneel down and ask Him
Not to intervene when it came to you
Not to touch a hair on your head
To leave you as you are
And if He felt He had to direct you
Then direct you into my arms
....
And I believe in Love
And I know that you do too
And I believe in some kind of path
That we can walk down, me and you


During this year, Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds released an album called No More Shall We Part which Blake and I listened to endlessly together, more melancholy songs of love and longing, and religious scrutiny. By this time I had laid the last of my Christian predispositions to rest, after struggling to fortify and justify the religion I was raised with when I went off to college and found that it could not in good conscience sit with me, so this side of the lyrical nature sat with me even more deeply. We caught the tour for this album in Portland when I was 6 months pregnant with Mayan. Apparently, they had not played in Portland for 14 years so this was an extra special treat, and completely sold out. The modest floor of the Crystal Ballroom was packed and cigarette smoke filled the massive space up to the ceiling. Besides the smoke, the red stage lights, and the image of Nick pounding away at the piano to most of our favorite songs from the new album such as "O Lord" and "15 Feet of Pure White Snow" with a cigarette dangling from his mouth, what sticks out the most was how terriblely painful my poor swollen pregnant feet felt squeezed into my adorable heels. I ended up asking someone near the back wall to move so I could sit down by pointing to my large belly with a pitiful look on my face among the noise. Just as we decided to creep out early to beat the rush, the encore song started and it was "Into My Arms" so we swayed together near the back to our (and I am sure MANY others) love anthem.

The years flew by. The music continues to grace our everyday lives. I will never forget how when I was in labor and I asked my body to "bring it on" so we could see our baby before morning, and within a few minutes the iPod shuffled to the song "Bring it On" from Nocturama. I leaned on the cedar walls and drank in the experience, letting all of my fears and desires about giving birth at home course through me and be purged out through the music.

This garden that I built for you
That you sit in now and yearn
I will never leave it, dear
I could not bear to return
And find it all untended
With the trees all bended low
This garden is our home, dear
And I got nowhere else to go
So bring it on
Bring it on
Every little tear
Bring it on
Every useless fear
Bring it on
All your shattered dreams
And I'll scatter them into the sea
Into the sea


George-Ephraim was born within four hours.

Imagine our excitement when we learned that 6 1/2 years, two more children, and 4 albums later Nick and his band would be returning to the Crystal Ballroom--this time promoting Dig, Lazarus, Dig and doing an all-ages show. I deliberated for months on what to do with the baby when the show came--I asked Breana months in advance to mark her calendar in case I wanted her to be a "car nanny" and watch a hopefully sleeping George a few blocks from the show. I ordered a pair of special infant headphones in case we decided to just bring him with us. But in the end, since it co-incided with the visit from D and G, I resigned myself to put the boy to sleep in his hammock and hope for the best. I even went out the day of the show and bought a natural rubber pacifier for them to pop in his mouth if he woke up prematurely. The timing could not have been better: we arrived, Blake dressing in all black and me in a vintage dress, heels, and lipstick, at the door of the Ballroom just as the first song began. Viewing was tricky since we were the last ones there but we ending up in the balcony with decent views of the whole band, and just a few yards from the upstairs bar that rarely has a line. The set list was heavy with the new material and alternated with some very old classics, many of which were played at the last show. It is hard to have any expectations of hearing certain songs when there are songs over 14 studio albums to choose from. I was just happy to see a jovial and charged Nick (the birthday boy we learned) gyrating and pointing and pounding away around his amazing band crowded together on the club's stage.

From the Oregonian review:
He might have preferred a place with a bigger stage. The concert showed the strengths (energy, intimate downtown setting) and weaknesses (small stage, very uneven sound) of the Crystal Ballroom. Cave and the Bad Seeds are a big deal worldwide, capable of filling arenas and concert halls in Europe and his native Australia. In an interview earlier Monday, Cave called touring the U.S. "an act of love" because bringing a full band to clubs is a break-even proposition, at best. Shoving six musicians as talented as the Bad Seeds into the corner of tiny stage makes it difficult for them to perform and get the sound separation they need.

My mind, of course, floated back and forth wondering if the sweet babe was at home screaming bloody murder, and as I deliberated over ordering another beer or just quitting while we were ahead and bailing early, I got the text: "All's well." We enjoyed the second half together feeling relaxed and happy and reconnected as married couple. Nick seems to alwasy do that for us.





For posterity's sake, the set list:

Night of the Lotus Eaters
Dig Lazarus Dig
Tupelo
Today's Lesson
Weeping Song
Nobody's Baby Now
Midnight Man
Mercy Seat
Deanna
Moonland
Red Right Hand
We Call Upon the Author
Papa Won't Leave You, Henry
More News From Nowhere

(encore)
Love Letter
Lyre of Orpheus
Get Ready For Love
Hard-on For Love
Stagger Lee

gravy day

new wave of hormones today...blake was somehow feeling them too. but in a good way. we spent our day loving, hugging, smiling, and peacefully cooking together while the children played quietly and creatively (like making funny faces out of vegetable peelings and scraps)--blake and i usually get annoyed with each other when we share kitchen space, but something was in the air today....

music played a big part in our day--blake DJ'ed while i made requests. we started off with the new Akron Family--a love themed album and by far their most listener-friendly. Akron has a tendancy to get a little out-there with their non-instrumental sounds, but have, after a few albums, honed their desire for alternative sounds and seamlessly blended it with their folky beats and harmonious voices. The title track (actually called Don't be Afraid, You're Already Dead) Love is Simple is so tasty and beautiful--complimented with a song called Love, Love, Love that is very Beatle-esque (think All You Need is Love...). We had to replay it during our dinner as well.

This put us on an Angels of Light kick (since we first came to know Akron/Family when they played for Angels of Light a few years ago)...which ended up being three of their CDs and carried us through most of our cooking. Up first, the newest release (my personal fave) We are Him, then Sing Other People, and finally How I Loved You, a sweet, tender album dedicated to Michael Gira's parents. Their sounds is mellow and newer to me, although Blake has been a long time fan.

By our last stretch of vegetable chopping and stuffing assembly, i was dying to hear the Sufjan Stevens that my friend Hedy had just burned for me. it has blown my mind in the few days i have owned it--his sound is versatile, playful, and downright lovely. Sometime a little Beatles, a little Jellyfish, and a tad Charlie and the Chocolate Factory--but all moving and engaging. The first song sent me into tears immediately--which alerted me to my obvious rise in pregnancy hormones today--and i had to pass the wooden spoon for stirring veggie to Blake, and have a moment in front of the stereo. There i envisioned myself in labor listening to the song and leaning against the cedar a-frame walls.

Dinner turned out perfectly--very traditional menu only i skipped the green beans. Our only tragedies were the exploding roasted chesnuts (sounded like World War 3 on our oven, and another exploded like a steamy, nutty granade on it's way outside) and Blake cracking his knee cap on the cabinets like two minutes before dinner being served. He iced it quickly and sat down to the feast like a champ. We made way too much food. If there is such thing. I love stuffing and i would eat it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. and dessert.

At first I was sad that no family would be able to make it for today. Blake was looking forward to it, saying "hey we have a chance to cook all day"....dude, i cook everyday--thanksgivng to me is getting to cook AND have extended family milling about. But after the day we had I am grateful for it--gave us a chance to connect and revel in the beauty of our family, our home, music, and our love....without the extra chaos.

Wishing everyone the same great feeling.....