Colin Meloy Sings Live! California One/Youth and Beauty Brigade

One of the coolest, most beautiful pieces of music I've ever heard. Perfect soundtrack for journeying up the California Coast with the man I love. Colin Meloy, I salute you! <3

movin' out

This week the 18-year old is packing up his room and collecting items that will squeeze into a tiny apartment he will eventually share with a buddy, and he'll be completely out of this house in a few days.

I thought I'd be OK with the whole moving out thing - never quite understood the severe trauma and depression experienced by my girlfriends when their children left the nest. My boy has always been independent and when that day comes, I'll be fine with it, I thought. What I didn't count on was him becoming the amazing person I'm currently enjoying hanging with. The past couple of years he must have concluded his mom's not such a square (well, not totally), and we've bonded on things like music, old TV shows, podcasts, politics, religion, personal finance, relationships. I've been recently blessed by dinner conversations with him that have lasted far beyond the meatloaf and potatoes. Kind of a bummer this will come to an end in a matter of days.

He is more than ready, not that I am. I miss my two-year-old creative genius. And it involves a lot of letting go on my part to share the 18-year-old version with the rest of the world.

Upon high school graduation, he received a $20,000 science scholarship that mandates he begin his higher academic career at a community college. Made sense to me to have him stay home for a couple of years, but knowing his nature, it should have been no surprise he'd want to strike out on his own. Unlike most of his friends, he won't have the security of dorm living and a pre-paid food plan. He's found a great, inexpensive apartment in the center of town, within walking distance to his dream job (a great comic/gaming/record store), and his college classes begin next week. College AND real-life responsibilities. I'm terrified for him.

Like any good mother, I've bribed the boy into coming back home on occasion. 1) I made great homemade meals of late sure to be prominent in his recent memory, 2) I've told him he can bring his dirty clothes home to be washed anytime, and 3) he is also welcome to hold his Dungeons & Dragons games at the house. I believe No. 3 is my best hope of bringing him back.

I will bestow on him a care package of everything I can think of (and afford) to help him survive in his new digs, but he'll have to figure out the rest on his own. Life is hard, he will undoubtedly learn. But he will always have somewhere to go when things get tough. Knowing mom's in his corner and a German bratwurst dinner with the family is just a phone call away has got to help.

chairman of the world

“He wiped his face with his handkerchief, for he was quite warm from the exertion of being Chairman of the World. It had taken more running and leaping and sliding than he had imagined.” (from Stuart Little by E.B. White)

Why do I feel I must move mountains to ensure everyone's needs are met? My boss must be happy with my work performance even though she never is. Deadlines must be met, even though we are painfully understaffed at the office. The kids must have at least three home-cooked meals a week even though I've been working 10-hour days lately. I must bring a homemade dish to our gathering of girlfriends tonight, and it must be wonderful. Problem is, in my plight to do-all/please-all, I'm pretty much a walking, talking wreck most of the time.

Who elected me Chairman of the World? Would I absolutely perish if I were just Kirsten? What if someone noticed that I cut a corner here or there or dropped the ball completely? And would it be totally beneath me to ask for a little help once in a while? Would people think less of me? Would it matter?

New approach: I will not try to be Chairman of the World today.

takes on "take on me"

A sketchbook page from my post high school youth.

A damn good cover! So natural to wear animal costumes in your neighborhood while playing this song!

take a chance

Brotherly wisdom found tucked in one of Timmie's books. Eight years ago today we lost him. I love that he lived his life adhering to this philosophy!

Firmly planted

This started out to be another one of those posts where I moan about the many disappointments leading up to my current maladies, as illustrated in nature by two empty plots of soil in my garden where the seeds I lovingly planted over two months ago failed to emerge from as sprouts. Just goes to show, I would keenly deduct, that even though you invest good time and energy on something you hope will produce fruit, God often has other plans. Yup, time to kiss the dream of having homegrown carrots and zinnias in my life goodbye. But in spite of this - here would be the "silver lining" part - I still would get to enjoy the gifts of two varieties of tomatoes, sunflowers, nasturtiums, cilantro, fresh thyme, marjoram, and rosemary - all of which are thriving quite nicely. (Note to self: for maximum results, plant seedlings instead of seeds).  Indeed, my god-given gifts - wonderful children; wise, supportive girlfriends; a good man in my life; great music and literature, and yes, even my own talents - are all in abundance as of late. But damn those two empty plots of soil ... no amount of sunshine, water, or Miracle-Gro will induce sprouting there. In a similar scenario, the emergency savings account I smarty opened a couple of  years ago is just as barren. Life is rough when you're a single mom dependent on child support from your ex, and even harder when said ex gets laid off and says he is unable to come up with the court-ordered monthly amount.

All of this was bound for the blog page this morning. The piece would have a happy ending: I'd just plant new seedlings - literally and figuratively - into the barren spots. New stuff would grow and I'd return to my happy, secure self. Before writing, I went to the garden to prepare the soil for the new plants. A quick turn of the shovel revealed ROOTS in that there soil. Come on ... two months and we're still working on the roots?  Then again, carrots pretty much are roots.  As usual, God has the perfect plan all along while I impatiently wait for things to go my way - and wail like a spoiled two-year-old when they don't.

I know what you are thinking: The fact that God can grow a mean carrot does not necessarily indicate he can solve more complicated problems like the Mathieson family finances. My own common sense tells me there's no way I can proceed on the current course and not completely fall flat on my face. No doubt I'd be bringing in at least a few times my current salary working at a similar position in the big city. But that would involve uprooting. Do I really want to do that when in all other respects my family is thriving right here? All I know is that whenever I ask him, God says no. When I ask why, he points me toward the forest, the ocean, or my garden. There is a reason I have taken roots here and it's not my duty to question that. I'm just supposed to keep things in a sunny spot and provide water and Miracle-Gro. He'll take care of the rest. Roots grow first.

Keep Breathing

"The storm is coming, but I don't mind. All that I know is I'm breathing."

So true ... at least in my case. Beautiful performance and beautiful song.