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Well friends, it has been a hella long time. In the last six months, I have gotten a new (awesome!) job, and had a really busy summer, so I’ve not had a lot of time to sit down in front of the computer. You can check out my blossoming food blog and my husband’s blog here.
But this post is about The Weepies! Husband and I flew down to NYC for a whirlwind 30 hours of tourism, excellent food, and most important, a concert by our beloved Weepies. We arrived about an hour and a half before doors opened, so we were about fourth in line to get into the standing-room-only venue.
After making some friends in line and sending Husband on a Starbucks run for reinforcements, we got in and beelined for the front of the venue. We ended up right at the front of the stage! It was a great spot to be able to watch them play.
They mentioned that their goal of this tour was to play like they do at home, sitting in their bedroom or living room, hanging out and playing together, their kids dancing in the background. And it was just that. It was comfortable. It was homey. They sat on vintage-looking white kitchen chairs and played the most heartfelt show I’ve ever seen. They glanced at each other during the songs and made jokes between numbers. They were charming.
Some may consider some of their songs “hokey,” as their songs can come off as being overly cute. But seeing them perform, it was clear that they believed every poetic phrase, and it made us all believe.
I would highly recommend going to see them if you get the chance, though I suppose I am biased. I sang along all evening. It felt like singing with old friends, and as we sang, and I could hear Husband singing along too, I realized how intertwined their music is with our love story, and it made my heart just swell.
Enjoy some photos of the evening below (all taken and edited with Camera+ on iPhone 4). Thank you, Deb and Steve, for making music that lets us know it is ok to believe in love.
In lieu of any words that could potentially be encouraging, inspiring, or just thought-provoking, I’d like to share some things that I’m particularly enamoured with lately.
Brave at Sea - Some people I went to summer camp with. Sort of old-timey, soulful, beautiful harmonies. Can. not. stop. listening.
Einsley – I just found out about these guys (thanks Cool Fam!). A family band of sorts, with interesting and catchy tunes!
Joni Mitchell (as always) – Uh, duh. She is amazing. Forever. The end.
Dori Greenspan’s “Baking: From My Home to Yours” – Great cookbook.
Rob Bell’s “Love Wins” – Really enjoying reading this so far. I feel myself sighing in agreement a lot as I read, but I haven’t finished it yet and refuse to form an opinion until I do.
Sundry other cookbooks such as Baking Illustrated and the Bon Appetit Desserts book that came out last fall. I’m a little obsessed.
So that’s a fairly small list. I’ve pretty much been spending every spare minute in my kitchen baking fiendishly, hence all the cookbooks on my book-list. How very practical of me.
I feel vastly uninteresting. Every time I sit down to type it’s like every interesting thought gets zapped out of my head. I’ll have to try a little harder going forward. Sleep tight, friends.
To steal a phrase from John Mayer.
Today at work, I spent the afternoon looking at pictures of people’s tattoos online. I have a really cool one on my right foot — Psalm 46:10 in my grandmother’s handwriting — but I’ve been itching to get another one. As I saw some really beautiful tattoos, and some really terrible ones too of course (why would you tattoo your own name on yourself!?), I couldn’t help but want something totally badass. It was that moment that I felt like I’d settled into some kind of cookie cutter. I don’t really think that, but at that moment…I wasn’t sure.
Maybe I would be destined for mini-vans and always wearing shoes so the other moms at play-group wouldn’t see my tattoo. Deep inside, I know that’s not me at all. I am not destined for any kind of boring normality. But I can’t help but wonder what I’d look like at 40 covered (at least a little bit) in tattoos. Would I be excluded from any jobs I might want to pursue? What would my boyfriend’s parents think? Isn’t growing up and becoming normal what people do?
I just can’t own a mini-van. Ever.
I soon found myself looking back (from the ripe ol’ age of 22) on my earlier days of crazy hair colors and earrings spanning the entirety of both my ears. Not that I feel the need to be-jewel my ears again or dye my hair pink again. I think I’ve matured at least somewhat past the “I must look a certain way to be cool” stage.
But really, do any of us really get over that? I’m just saying. We all dress the way we do for a reason. Because we like it, cool or not. We choose to present ourselves the way we do to make whatever statement we want to make.
I digress. You can go back in time and un-read those last two paragraphs if you’d like.
It was this whole issue, or at least my tiny mention of it this afternoon, that prompted Elliot to diagnose me with a quarter-life crisis. And…I think he’s right. I am in this very unsettling stage where I feel like I should have more things figured out. I don’t know what I want to do. I don’t always know why I say or do the things I am saying or doing. I am lazy. I have an unreasonable desire to purchase a sportscar… No scratch that–that’s the mid-life crisis–but I am just itching for a new tattoo. And a path.
Recently some things fell into place in my brain. If I can get a job that will actually pay me enough to only work that one job, I can actually have time to practice and play music. Friends, this is big. I am falling so head over heels for the So and So’s (my church band), for that feeling of connection and art and music–not just the sound but the spirit–ugh, I want to do it more. Sometimes I catch myself thinking, “Man, too bad I didn’t get a degree I can use for a job. Why don’t I like anything enough to do it for a job?” And then I have moments playing music, spontaneous “One clap…two claps” erupting from the congregation that I think “Yes. Yes, this is it. This is it.“
So, step one: Real job. Step two: BAND. Practicing, writing, honing, disciplining, playing.
I guess I’m pretty terrible at blogging–it’s been a long time since my last post. I find I often have ideas for posts floating around in my head. I wanted to write one called “Reflections on an Encounter with a Homeless Man,” but then the time passed, and I think I missed all the thoughts that were floating around in my heart. Maybe I’ll return to that one sometime.
Truth is, I feel like I’m in some kind of rut. I am doing the same old same old, trying to figure out how I’m going to pay for seminary in the fall, and working far too much. Blah blah blah. I’m whining. Too much. Sorry.
I just took a little look-see at my past few posts, and realized I promised more info from the conference I attended nearly a month ago now. I will get on that.
As a bonus, here are some things I am enjoying right now: The Weepies, Bellen! (especially the early ones), being in love for the first time, the warm weather, organizing the Memorial Day picnic (!), and dreaming about opening a bakery/cafe/gallery (it could really happen!).
I suppose that’s enough rambling for one day. And I’ll get working on that post from the conference. It would be good for me to revisit it.
Happy long weekend, friends!
We drove around a little extra to hear this beautiful song last night:
I roll the window down
and then begin to breathe in
the darkest country road
and the strong scent of evergreen
from the passenger seat as you are driving me home.
then looking upwards
I strain my eyes and try
to tell the difference between shooting stars and satellites
from the passenger seat as you are driving me home.
“do they collide?”
I ask and you smile.
with my feet on the dash
the world doesn’t matter.
when you feel embarrassed then I’ll be your pride
when you need directions then I’ll be the guide
for all time.
for all time.
(death cab for cutie)