When I listen to Wednesdays... (a day late)

When I listen to Joe Purdy, I can have a whole myriad of feelings, luckily in my shuffle I got "Come Back Down Joe" off the Only Four Seasons album (Joe also has the same song on the Sessions From Motor Ave album), I like the latter version on Only Four Seasons much more.  This song reminds me of the West End of London, neighborhoods like Covent Garden & Leicester Square.  There's really no particular reason that this song stirs up those feelings.  Maybe it's because I discovered Joe when I lived in England and this song just reminds me of the kind of song that some wayfaring vagabond would be playing on the corner of one of those neighborhoods as tourists move about them, throwing coins in the troubadour's guitar case, making their purchases at the outdoor markets, and deciding what pub or cafe they are going to grab lunch at.

While in the past some Joe Purdy songs were the soundtrack to my ambien filled nights, the songs that I assigned to my most bittersweet memories, for some reason this song never felt that way.  This song reminds me of the me I was discovering in '06-'07, the me that was inherently different than who I should have been being married to Dave.  The me who was discovering she loved Europe just as much as she loved her own country, the me who on some level knew that Dave and I weren't meant for each other, (but the me who was too afraid to let go of him for letting go of him would mean letting go of those places).  This song is beautiful books, latte art, cobblestoned streets, and independence.

I don't know why, but that's just what I feel when I listen to this song.

I've been lucky enough to see this artist 3 times, he's just amazing.

When I listen to Wednesdays...

When I listen to "Relator" by Pete Yorn and Scarlett Johansson I am back in 2009, first let me say this... I have liked Pete Yorn since his first album, Musicforthemorningafter and as for Scarlett Johansson I know, I know... people hate her or love her... I definitely fall in to the latter category, I tend to love almost all her movies and then when she became Woody Allen's muse, forget about it... I was hooked.  Now can she sing?  I'm sure the music technicians worked their charm, but this album, particularly the song, "Relator" brought me out of darkness.  

2008 was hands down the worst year of my life, and it was such a doozy that I don't think (knock on wood) that God would ever hand me one that would top that, they say he only gives us what we can handle, and that one pretty much pushed me to the brink, so I think I'm good for the rest of my life.  Well, needless to say my 2008 was filled to the brim with music that could make the most cheeriest of souls want to drown themselves.  Granted, I still adore many of those songs and the little singer-songwriters that penned them and performed them in tiny locations all over Denver & Boulder for me.  

That said, when you have a year like that, full of sadness and despair, and then a song comes along that makes you want to dance... it feels like a little drop of sunshine, like the clouds are parting and for the rest of your life you can't help but remember that a song made you feel that you might get through this after all.  For all of 2 minutes and 34 seconds, you could pick up on a beat and you could bob your head and tap your foot to it and then before you know it you were dancing and you weren't being suffocated with memories and the feeling of loss that threatened to smother you, you didn't have to remember to gasp for air.

I adore this album, it is said that Pete wanted to make an album that channeled something similar to Serge Gainsbourg and Brigitte Bardot... Very 60's.  It's meant to be like a couple singing together about the up's and down's of their relationship.  

Anyway, I tend to be the only person I know that gives Scarlett a chance, I think all my sisters hated my little happy ditty.  But I'm telling you if they did another duet album, I'd buy it again.  If you take a listen let me know what you think (The video is pretty awesome too).   

The House That Built Me

Almost a year ago my Grandma finally passed away.  I say finally because the moment that my grandpa died a few years before her she started wishing that she would just die.  Don't get me wrong she still loved us and loved when we would call or visit but inevitably she would cry and she would talk about him.

Tonight, I can't stop thinking about them.  And by them I mean my grandparents and all of us that are here because of them... all the cousins and their kids, and our parents.  I found myself wondering what was the latest status of our grandparents house, last I'd heard my Aunt was still dealing with repairs in preparation to sell.  So I text her to hear the latest.  In one of those freakishly odd moments that life hands us, she text back and said that they just signed the papers yesterday and that the new family is moving in this weekend.  She said it's a young couple and they have two boys, just like my grandpa and grandma did when they bought the house all those years ago.

If you know me, you know I'm sentimental.  Losing that house, feels like I'm losing the place where I could go to still feel them.  I'm not really big on grave sites.  Since I can't go there anymore, I just want to share what it feels like as I'm sure many of you can relate to a place that feels like home.

My whole life whether I was a little girl in my dad's backseat or whether I was that lost girl in my 20's I can remember pulling up in the driveway and the back door opening and my Grandma standing there with a smile.  Grandma might have been harsh on our parents at times but to us she was the breakfast maker, the back scratcher, and the picture taker.  Me, my brother, and my cousins spent so much time there.  We'd go to the bowling alley with them when they were on a league, we had many bbq's in their little backyard on that wooden table with benches, we climbed onto the cement wall and climbed trees, shot hoops, and played bar (it's not as white trash as it sounds, our grandparents had a bar in the family room in the basement and we would put on MTV and perform songs while my brother was the bartender who served us up drinks--- coca cola and sprite mostly--- in between our dance performances), ok maybe it wasn't the best game for kids, but we thought we were cool.

(Cousin Melanie, Me, Cousin Jamie, and my Brother Travis on the wall)

If Grandma was the caretaker, Grandpa was the troublemaker... He'd play ghost at the bottom of the long stairs and scare us so we'd go running and screaming; and while Grandma would cook breakfast he would give us girls a twirl all around the kitchen.  

(Grandpa dancing with me, I love that the look on my face is pure joy and laughter... that's how I always felt with them.)

In my early 20's I stayed with them for awhile, maybe a month or so.  I remember my Grandma telling me I had a gypsy soul and that I was restless, and Grandpa said that I just needed the church in my life (which was funny because he never went that I knew of).  I was troubled in my early 20's, and when I think back on that time the song "The House That Built Me" by Miranda Lambert always comes to mind.  I love when she sings, "I thought if I could touch this place or feel it, this brokenness inside me might start healing, out here it's like I'm someone else, I thought that maybe I could find myself".  I was there for sanctuary.  Sanctuary from my dad, from my disappointments in where life was taking me, from myself and the choices I had made.  It was just like a country song, I was back there trying to remember who I was and where I come from.  It's scary to think that I don't have that place anymore.

(Me sitting on Grandpa's lap back in the 80's, he sat in that same spot the last time I would ever see him.)

I can still remember the exact place I was when I got the phone call from my dad that Grandpa had Leukemia, and I can still remember the exact thing I was doing and where I was the moment I got a phone call from my dad that Grandpa had passed away.  He died peacefully in his sleep, thanks to hospice, and the constant care of my Grandma and my dad, my aunt, and my uncle.  My brother and I instantly hopped on a plane and were there, gathered around the bed with all the rest of the family to say a family prayer before they came and took his body away.  I remember watching the men of my family carry him out of the house, my brother gently holding our grandfather's head in his hands.  How crazy that the little boy that used to sleep with Grandpa, that used to be his little shadow on the golf course, was now a grown man holding this old man's head in his hands.  

I remember sitting at my grandparents breakfast table sharing what I knew would be my last meal ever with him, I remember the way he told me to love again, to not close off my heart to it.  I remember the way he said with the most loving of concerns that he wanted me to lose some weight so I wouldn't get sick and could live a fuller life.  After the dishes were done and we embraced for the last time, both of us shedding tears, and Grandma taking pictures all the while; I got in my car and drove away... I lost it. I promised I would find myself again, I promised I would eat better and take care of myself, I promised I would make him proud of me.  It wasn't until his memorial service when a friend of his came up to me and said, "Karstee, out on the golf course your Grandpa used to tell us stories of all the places you've been and the things you've seen, he sure was proud of you!"  He was already proud of me, he just didn't want me to give up on myself.  It breaks my heart to admit that I still haven't followed through on the promises I made that day.  

(Grandma and me, just a couple of days or so after losing Grandpa.)

The last time I got to see my Grandma, it was weird.  She was a single lady occupying a house full of memories and I'm sure for her it felt haunted.  She had changed, she slept in longer, stayed up later, drank wine, and ate poorly, and by poorly I mean she didn't seem to have an appetite.  I could tell I was her granddaughter because when I'm depressed I have all the same traits except for I have an insatiable appetite.  We watched each other's favorite movies, ordered pizza, and drank wine, and shared feelings.    When I left that weekend to come back to Colorado I felt like I'd gotten a glimpse of a woman, not just my Grandma--- a real woman with fears of inadequacy and a longing and sadness that she just couldn't conquer.  My Grandma would later take a fall in that house that would send her to the hospital where after surgery she would leave this world.  

And their house sat there empty of people--- waiting for belongings to be divvy'd up, memories to be scattered, pipes repaired; and now finally that home is ready for another family to begin what will hopefully be generations of happiness and solidarity.

When I listen to Wednesdays...

Greetings Friends!  How's the new year treating you?  I have to say I'm pretty happy with it so far, and I hope you are too!

Let's get to it... when I listen to "Old Pine" by Ben Howard I am instantly filled with warmness and goodness and all the things that I love about Boulder.  I was pretty obsessed with the album Every Kingdom over the summer of 2012 and I think it was on rotation in my Volvo station wagon pretty much non stop... but for some reason driving on this one road always comes to mind.  I don't know the name of the road but it runs on the side of Boulder HS, over the creek, and turns into a big hill.  There is a campus parking lot off the side of that road right there by Macky Auditorium.  I used to use that lot that summer when I would be trekking over from East Campus to go to my class: Revolution and Nationalism in Modern Ireland.  I was taking the class for fun (a benefit of being an employee of CU) and it met every day for a month over the summer.

I remember making the walk from Macky to Hellem's across that stretch of sidewalk that goes through the quad in front of the library (which has an engraved quote above the entrance that faces the quad saying, "Who knows only his own generation remains always a child", I always loved that... especially since I was on my way to a history course).  Campus was always dead because it was summer and the class met from 4:30-6:30; after some of the craziness of the famous bear being shot out of the tree and mountain lions being on campus I remember wondering what in the world I would do if I came across one of these creatures by myself.  It was a hot summer and when I'd get to the classroom it was always stuffy, but our class had a routine... we turned on the ceiling fans, opened windows, and opened the door and it always seemed to help.  Inevitably as Colorado summers do, it always seemed to start raining in the middle of class, cooling everything off.  As class would get out, I'd walk the way I came... pushing that big Hellem's door open to see the beautiful Macky Auditorium straight ahead of me.

  (The doors I would use to get into Hellem's.  I love Hellem's because it is where the History department is housed and every time I go through those doors, I love knowing that I'm going to be going back in time for a little while.)

(The stretch between Hellem's and Macky.  This picture must have been taken before or after the Shakespeare Festival that CU hosts every year because I also remember that sidewalk being lined with banners for the plays that would be featured that year.) 

(Kind of random... but this is my favorite tree on campus and it just happens to be on that walk that I would take every day.  I thought I would include it here since Ben's song is very nature-y.)

Boulder summers are one of my favorite things.  I love meeting up for cool drinks after work, dipping my feet in the creek, I love the break from the students.  And God, I love the sunsets.  That summer I still lived in Superior and there were times after going to class, and then going to dinner/drinks that by the time I would be taking 36 out of Boulder towards McCaslin, I could look in my rearview mirror and see the sun sinking behind the Flatirons, and I swear it took my breathe away every time.

So... when I hear Ben Howard's album start with that gentle picking and strumming of a guitar and the singing that sounds like a lullaby I am transported to those lazy days of summer and I remember why I wanted to work at CU so badly.  I think of sunflowers blooming on the side of the highway, I think of people riding inner tubes down the creek, I think of the start of school and the Pearl Street Stampede.

While the song itself seems to be about Ben and his friends camping in the summertime there are some great lines, that just really embody all that is awesome about summer.  If you have never listened to Ben Howard, I highly recommend downloading the whole album... I don't think you will regret it.  Ben is England's answer to our Jack Johnson (before he made 10 albums that sound just like the last one).  Ben's just a surfer dude with his guitar and I love him.  :-)

Book Review: "Tout Sweet" by Karen Wheeler

Ok, I'll be the first to admit it... I am a sucker for travel memoirs, especially when they are written by a woman who has been scorned and is now out to "find" herself.  If this is not your thing, feel free to skip this post, and if you think you might want to read Tout Sweet: Hanging Up My High Heels for a New Life in France (the book being reviewed) then maybe you should also skip this post as I am sure to reveal some spoilers.

At the age of 35, our heroine, Karen Wheeler is a successful British fashion editor... who has been brutally dumped.  As cliche as it all is (or has become to me anyways), she wonders how did she end up 35 and alone?  But here is why I'm addicted to these stories... because unlike myself, these girls get up and do something about it (it probably helps that they don't appear to be buckled down with credit card debt and they are always successful high powered career woman, whereas I am not).

So, Karen impulsively buys a French chateau in a small village in France, and she names it, Maison Coquelicot, "house of the wild poppy".  Karen takes a year to move from London to France after her purchase to get things in order and tie up loose ends.  During this year though she makes a lot of weekend visits, where we start to lean about some of the locals.

Upon actually moving to France she of course has a moment where she can't believe she's done this and can't believe that she doesn't even know the number to dial in case of emergency.  Here is where I think the book was awkward because we know Karen is British yet the book claims that she didn't know the French equivalent for 911 (but in England the emergency phone number is 999).  Since we already knew she was talking about emergency phone numbers I don't think they needed to change it for an American audience-- especially when Karen finds herself in a community full of British ex-pats in France and they definitely use their British slang and don't worry about translating that for the American version, so... anyways, I digress.

Karen faces trials and tribulations with the remodel of her fixer-upper (very Under the Tuscan Sun) and as she learns the ins and outs of all these characters that make up this little village and as she adjusts to being a country girl and not a fashionista in the big city.

The best part about this book is that Karen transforms her life, and even though the book ends and everything isn't exactly perfect, you get the feeling Karen is going to be ok and that good things are going to happen for her (it helps knowing that in England, two more books have already followed... one in which the whole point of the book is about Karen falling in love).  But it's nice to know that she wrote this first book and it was honest and hopeful.

I know it's crazy, but since it's been so cold and snowy and since I don't have a TV (or technically internet), I spent all of Sunday curled up with this book and it was delightful, and I already miss it!  I love when I read a book that when it ends I know I'll miss the characters, and the setting.

Christmas and New Year's oddly enough played a big role in this book for the two years that the book covered so it was kind of nice to read it on a snowy weekend.  Now I have to decide if I want to get on some website (hopefully not amazon) and order the next one, but the British covers are so ugly (yes, I just said that).  So I may hang in there a little longer to see if an American release date gets set... it's not like I can't find anything else to read in the meanwhile, right?

When I listen to Wednesdays...

Ok, so I've come up with a name for my little music shuffle roulette game I play, and in order to put my pension for reminiscing to use I shall call this game "When I listen to Wednesdays" and why not? We have Meatless Mondays and Throwback Thursdays.  So in an effort to get me to write at least once a week I give you "When I listen to Wednesdays"... without further adieu...

When I listen to "The Space Between" on the Dave Matthews Live at Folsom Field album I am instantly taken to my spot on a bench high up in the crowd.  It was July 11, 2001, the world had not yet witnessed planes flying into buildings and a Manhattan covered in dust and despair.  I remember parking my car on some side street in front of a very typical Boulder, lived in by college kids house.  Music was playing, the sun was shining, I'd seen the band before and I knew we were in for a good show.  As I locked the door to the car and turned to walk toward the stadium I remember seeing a man walking right down the middle of the road.  He was barefoot and had on some hippie style pants with a drawstring, he had the longest dreads and no shirt on, he looked like he lived in the light.  Dirty sure, but I remember thinking, "I could get used to this place."

As folks filed into the stadium and waited for the show to start, clouds rolled over and settled right over the stadium and all of Boulder, it didn't take long for the rain to start pouring!  We wondered if the show might have to be cancelled but before we knew it the band was taking the stage.  I don't think I've ever stood in a more elated crowd.  I remember the way the boy in front of me had taken off his drenched t-shirt and started flying it around his fist like a helicopter, with every whip around it sent water flying off in a different trajectory path then the rain that was pouring straight down on us.

I remember when "The Space Between" started playing, it had quickly become one of my favorite DMB songs, probably because every time I listened to it I obsessed over a boy named Will who up to that point, to paraphrase Joni Mitchell had loved me more naughty and made me more weak in the knees than any other boy before.  I would drive everywhere listening to that song, remembering him parked beside my car, laying on the hood of his own, drenched in sunlight and waiting for me to get out of class; remembering him sneaking into the poetry reading in that tiny coffee shop and me wondering if he was really there for poetry or if he was there for me; and lastly remembering the night he invited me over to his place and we drove to the gas station where he proceeded to steal a bundle of firewood... you know where that's going.  This boy had plagued my thoughts for months and I knew he was probably in that same rain soaked stadium as me, so when I heard Dave Matthews sing, "You shall not quit me so quickly..." I was thrown back into that tailspin of memories.

Now, when I hear Dave sing, "like will it rain today?" and I hear the crowd cheer I mostly just remember that concert and the way it felt to be in a stadium, soaked to the bone, and to love a band so much.  It's by far and away my favorite concert of all time.  

Friends + Family (The Holidays)= New Year's Resolutions

So tonight I got to thinking... who was the masochist that decided we would all make resolutions right after the holidays?  Seriously.  This holiday season has my head spinning.  First there is Thanksgiving, and this year to add to the craziness almost every retailer decided to open smack dab in the middle of Thanksgiving day for Black Friday shopping... add in a doozy of an argument between myself and the matriarch about disciplining children (in which I was reminded again that I don't have any) and that was enough to have me running for the hills until I had to show my face again for Birthday and Christmas festivities.

Which brings me to the middle of my Christmas/New Year's Holiday "staycation".  I normally like to take all the random days off in between the holidays and weekends because I feel I get to maximize my time off from work by doing this.  When I do this I like to stay down at my parent's because all my sisters are there and friends are in town and it's just easier to get around to those I want to visit.  Well the fiasco that was Thanksgiving 2013 is behind us but now I find myself in a peculiar place.  I have realized that being a 32 year old so dependent on the family I grew up in for my love, support and happiness is no longer enough.  Sure it's a cozy little nucleus most of the time but when things go off the rails it only serves as a reminder to me that if I would move on and make my own life I wouldn't have to feel like the drama effects me so much.

On Christmas Eve we broke out the old home videos, think 1999-2001 and all I could think looking at myself was, I used to be much more quiet and reserved.  I was a whole heck of a lot thinner.  I wore makeup.  I took care of myself for the most part.  So here I am with my 18-20 year old self in front of me right on the eve of a New Year and all I can think is... if I go to the gym everyday maybe someday I can be that size again.

I also have had the chance this break to meet up with old friends- friends who have known me "pre-marriage" and I'm getting the feeling that my grace period has ran out.  It was ok the year of my divorce when I felt I couldn't even breathe, and the couple years after that it was acceptable to "not have any money" or to "be scared shitless to date" and then there was that year that I was looking for a job and that was the main focus.  But now things have been pretty steady for the past couple years, and with a few car problems aside the excuses have ran out and while some friends are more gentle when they ask, "Really? You haven't found anyone that you'd want to date?" Some friends have shown a little tough love asking the really hard questions, "what do you want?  You want to be a travel writer?  You have to travel to do that!  So what are you going to do?"

I'm not mad at my friends for asking me these questions, I'm glad I have family and friends who know where I've been and know that I'm capable of so much more than what I have been doing with my life lately.  Don't get me wrong, I'm glad I have a job and can make ends meet, but there has got to be so much more than the life that I am setting myself up to have.

I don't want to be the girl that got divorced and never knew the love of a man again, I don't want to be the daughter that is always reminded that she doesn't have kids, I don't want to be the girl that makes the same goals every year and everyone knows that she won't accomplish them or change.

So... we go through all these visits with family and friends, we're reminded of who we once were before hearts were broken, before we gave up on ourselves, and before we stopped dreaming of bigger things.  And then we are faced with a New Year, a promise of a chance to begin anew!  Does anyone else see this as a crazy equation?!?!?!?!

So this next year, I want to push myself.  That's it.  I don't want to make any grandiose statements of what pushing myself entails but I want to be kind to myself but with a firm resolve.  I'm tired of beating myself up for being overweight, I'm tired of counting off the years since I last made love to someone, I'm tired of being the girl whose self worth comes from an alcoholic father, a husband who walked away and a couple of rotten ovaries.  So instead of curling up and watching re-runs or eating food that comforts me in the moment I'm going to be kind to myself in other ways and push through all the emotions and bullshit until I find what I really want, because the only thing that I do know for sure is that the status quo hasn't been cutting it and I'm finally far enough away from the main source of hurt that I can see it's time to force myself to push.  Stay tuned.