"Indoor Fireworks" Elvis Costello

Up next meet:

THE PHILOSOPHER or THE BIKER or THE PHILANTHROPIST

We ran 3 miles today at a 9:90 (is that a pace? It was nine minutes and something). She's a good running partner. Today we are going cat shopping, although I think it is still too soon. Lilly has a way with animals (and people too). Being an impath, she feels more from others, which is sometimes good, but it can take a toll. I have to really work at raising my vibration when she is around, even when I am feeling sad because I know she can tell.

THE BIKER

I met THE BIKERat a popular hipster coffee shop I used to frequent after the divorce. It was my Saturday and often Sunday morning ritual to sip java and write. They had outdoor seating, which in the warmer months, was sanctuary for me.

I was much older than a lot of the college kids and 20 somethings who worked there and hung around. I got excellent music referrals from the hours I was there. Did a lot of deep introspection in that place...

Anyway, the Biker was part of a small crew of us who would commune on those Saturday mornings. He was a lab assistant in the Jordan building and was closer in age than the rest of the young folks. I noticed him because he always rode a motorcycle. It was a bright blue Honda Shadow, the same bike as THE DAD rode, so I was familiar with it. In fact, I am sure that is why we got to talking in the first place. We never really dated per se, we just talked and sometimes would go on a ride. I also watched his cat when he would leave town.

He was an odd guy, but friendly. He lived in a tiny attic next door to his mom's old antique store, and would look after it if she needed him in a pinch. I loved that store because she had cats and they would help you find treasures as you passsed through the rooms.

He didn't own much and liked it that way. He also owned a cat.

I like cat people.

Each winter, he would ride his motorcycle to Key West and stay for a few months. I'm really not sure what kind of kink he was into, but whatever it was, he hid it well. he seemed to appear and disappear from town a lot. He knew the art of detachment.

Several years later, I was at the Corporate Coffee working on something (it was close to work and I was on a deadline). I was sitting outside and heard a motorcycle roll up. It was THE BIKER. We laughed because back in the day everyone at our shop would rail on corporate coffee as if just going there made you a terrible no good consumer who didn't help out local businesses. We talked for awhile and then he left.

I haven't seen the biker since that day. I hope he is down in the Keys with a few cats living like Earnest Hemmingway--without all the bar fights.

"April, Come She Will" Simon and Garfunkel

This song. It stirs up so much. Beautiful Simplicity.

The trees are flowering, the forsythias are blooming and the Willow trees are in bloom. I can see the starts of so many plants and flowers and new life everywhere.

I know a secret dafodill farm on the southeast side of town. An old friend lived in a rental adjacent to the property and she discovered it one spring. The dafodills carpeted the ground for miles. This isn't the Link Observatory up near Martinsville. This is a hidden plot of land with so many varities of blooms you want to make boquets for everyone you know. I would love to go back to see if it is still there.

Anyway, I am finding joy in these simple things--the season's change and the warmth of the sun on my face. Hope you are enjoying it from your window as well. Cheers to the weekend.

"Any Major Dude" Steely Dan

I can tell you all I know, the where to go the what to do/

You can try to run, but you can't hide from what's inside of you./

Words we all need to hear right now. My girl doesn't like Steely Dan. I think it's because her dad (Dan!) and I both like the band and used to play their records separately at home. That's a weird thing. Separate but the same. We all laugh about that now.

I think she is warming up to good ole Steely.

We were better friends than married partners. I'm grateful that we were able to keep things amacable while the Lilster was growing up. She's coming home today! It will be nice to pal around with my kiddo. Maybe get a run in on the B-Line.

How are you? How's the journey going? Have you picked out a record for yourself yet? Sending love your way.

Here's a recent confession-- THE DAD

When I first got married (round 1), THE DAD worked as a charge nurse, night shift in the ER. I was usually gone to work by the time he got home and to bed. One morning in the early years (of course), I put Chicago's "BEGINNINGS" on repeat on the cd player, so when THE DAD got home it would be playing. I know, how cute, right. What a love song though!

Fast Fwd to a year ago, Lilly had something at Butler for all of us to attend. I think we were moving her into her apartment, so we needed all hands on deck. After the move, we all went to one of the local pubs for lunch and to bid Lil' farewell. It was a warm August day and we were sitting out on the restaurant's outdoor seating.

I am always attuned to what music is playing where ever I am, I recall having to strain to hear the house music at this place. But at One point in the lunch, "BEGINNINGS" started to play. I didn't look up at THE DAD to see if he could hear the song or if he even remembered it from 20 plus years earlier.

Twin Flame?

I know this might seem crazy. I hope it doesn't to you. Give it a listen and see if it resonates. She has a few others that I felt were mostly spot on. Miss you my friend.

"Johnny Met June" Shelby Lynne

I forgot about this song. It popped in my head as I was sitting down to write. Since the last confession was high school, I thought I would linger in the early years a bit more. Also, this one was not someone I dated, but we became close friends during a time when both of us were at a transitional part of our lives. I'm trying to find the perfect name for him. He has the perfect name, but I can't write it here to protect him. Plus, it's quite a story, so grab a beer and pull up a chair.

I'll call him.. THE POET

The POET was a few years younger than me in high school. He and his family lived just around the corner from me and we went to the same pool. I wouldn't call Poet a childhood friend, just someone I saw around a lot.

I had just graduated from college and was back at home, interviewing for teaching positions. I managed to land a lifegarding gig back at the pool I used to swim for and Poet was also a guard there. He left college after two years to help out his parents when a law suit took the bookstore his dad owned from the family, leaving them no income. Fun Fact: It was an ADULT bookstore.

Poet and a few other friends would get together nights light candles, read poetry, play music and drink wine. U2's Achtung Baby was in rotation, as well as the soundtrack from The Princess Bride ( Poet looked just like Cary Elwes, btw) and we would often go out and terrorize our Stupid Conservitive Republican Law Abiding town.

Poet never wore shoes--not even in winter. He would show up at my house snow on the ground- no shoes. Poet was always up for an adventure, and to escape our limbo lives. We would run on golf courses in the middle of the night while the sprinklers were going, in winter, we would strip down to nothing and make naked snow angels in the yard (That was fun explaining to mom). We took long drives to find urban legends like the Haunted Bridge Queen Blaring on the tape deck. None of us were afraid of being naked. And nothing ever came from it-- we were all just a bunch of drunk, naked 20 somethings living our best lives.

Poet loved to go to used bookstores and buy me books of poetry and inscribe them using an old inkwell and metal ink pen-- the ink would smear everywhere. I think he was the most romantic person I have ever met. Chivalrous to a fault.

August came and the position was offered to return to my college town. He decided to go into the Air Force and moved to Utah. We got on with our lives and lost touch, as people do, until..

In 2012, mom called me and told me Poet was going to prison for 40 years for attempted murder. Poet became a laywer and was always fighting for good people. He attacked the man (legislator) who contributed to his parent's bookstore loss so many years ago. He died in 2020 in prison.

Godspeed, my sweet, romantic Poet.

"Johanna" Sweeney Todd Soundtrack

What did you think of that last confession?

This one is a short stint from high school. We only went out a few times, but it is comical how it ended.

We'll call him THE SHOWMAN

In case you are new to vocal music, certain parts go together. Others just don't mix. Most of the time the leads are tenors and sopranos-- we altos and baritones end up playing the character part, not the ingenues. And Basses, you guys are just anomalies to me.

I was an alto (first and second, to be fair- yes, I had some range).

He was a tenor.

I auditioned and made the elite show choir, THE AMBASSADORS, my junior year. One year prior, they performed at the renowed Bishop Luers Show Choir Competition and swept the competition. The SHOWMAN had a reputation of being the best singer in the choir. His mom was a vocal coach and he got the talent training in spades.

The first time I heard SHOWMAN sing "Johanna" at the fall concert, I was stunned.

Stephen Sondheim took a liking to SHOWMAN so much so that he cast him as Jack alongside Burnadette Peters in the 1987 Broadway production Into the Woods.

So SHOWMAN could have his pick of the litter and well, he did. When it was my turn, we went out a few times that fall. He broke it off in the driveway of his next pursuit-- comparing me to sushi. SUSHI? I just had to try it. Ouch. I cried the whole night after that.

He chose a soprano, of course, and they were prom king and queen that spring. They were together through the rest of high school. The perfect couple--on and off stage. . They also were the leads in Guys and Dolls (Sky Masterson/Sarah Brown) and The Music Man.(Harold Hill/Marion)

I got to watch their love story unfold from the wings.

"North Dakota" Lyle Lovett

I gave myself permission to cry today.

Grieving is hard to do without explaining why, without being able to explain why. To anyone.

It seemed appropriate that I woke up thinking of Lyle Lovett songs, as he evokes all of the feelings. A song from my first wedding and how I failed it. The deep well of loss and regret. The empty void left from the silence. The heaviness that I feel and I can't discern it from wanting to puke.

I'm sitting at a table of people talking and I can't hear a thing anyone is saying...I am suspended in this place of ick

Just make it all stop.

"Wish I Knew You" The Revivalists

THE P.H.D.

It was August, 1992. I just accepted my first real job as a teacher in a college town.

I was 22 years old.

After the interview and acceptance formalities, the principal gave me a tour of the school. He also offered to help me find an apartment, which I thought was so kind, being only days away from the start of the school year.

He was much older, 33, but tall and I suppose handsome looking. It was October when he called me. I remember because we were on fall break, and he invited me over to check out his newly built deck or some stupid reason. I was flattered, of course, my boss inviting me to his house, so I accepted.

This turned into a weekly visit. I would get a call late afternoon on Sunday and would drive the two or so miles to his house and go home later that evening. At work I felt like Hester Prynne. We never so much as made eye contact at work, nor did we talk about what "we" were. He wouldn't take me out obviously, for fear someone from our relatively small town would see us, and I started to resent that.

He was born and raised in an even smaller town south of ours, and his parents still lived there. After over a year of this pattern, he finally took me to get sandwiches and sit out on a grassy hill overlooking his old town. I guess I considered it progress-- but at 23, I was ready for something more than this.

I felt trapped. If I broke it off, how would that affect my evaluations? If he wasn't ready to actually call me his girlfriend or whatever, and be seen in public with me, what am I doing with him? I was better than just a booty call.

This continued for another year, but we did become closer. Still, there were no proclaimations of love or commitment from him. It took his father dying of prostrate cancer to make the break.

Let me explain.

His parents moved into his house when his father was diagnosed. They found it easier for receiving care at our hospitals, and the long drive from the south took a toll on the aged couple, so he took them in. Weeks, then months passed, and our weekly rendezvous ceased to be. He thought my apartment was cute, but he couldn't imagine sitting (or even sleeping on) a futon. Plus, he was allergic to my cat. He would make up an excuse to his parents about picking up milk and the store and would just stop my to see me.

I never was formally introduced to his parents. They didn't know I existed. After three years of seeing this man, I was not marriage material.

I met his father on the day of his funeral. In the casket. I shook his mother's hand and sat down in the pew.

" His Eyes are on the Sparrow" played on the organ and I cried. Not because of his father--but because of this realization. I meant nothing to him.

The split came that spring. He was apparently "torn apart" by it. He took trips with the show choir teacher and her husband to New York City to get away, visited Martha's Vineyard with a Vice Principal (she tried to get me moved to the neighboring high school), and would not speak to me the rest of the school year.

That summer, he took a position as Superintendent at a school in the Chicago Region-- one of those snobby rich communities.

He also got married--to a girl that was his former student. She was in that same show choir--

and she was 11 years younger....

Up next: GEEKSQUAD or MAN_CHILD?

"Ain't No Sunshine" Seany Clake (Bill Withers cover)

Daylight Savings Time is here to kill us all!

I am a collector of clocks. I know, it's a dumb thing to collect. It seems like none of them work, and I'm pretty sure that's bad luck. I've become hyper-aware of my clock obsession twice a year when I have to go around the house and set them forward or back. "Oh, I forgot about this one."

Forward or Back.. you choose.

My bro-in-law shared this cover artist with me, Seany Clarke. He's pretty damn good. Carolyn got me listening to The Style Council back in the 80s, and Seany does an interesting acoustic cover of "Ever Changing Moods."

It's nice to finally have some sunshine after a week of darkness. My mood has been low and could use a pick me up. The sun always helps-- but there's a constant lingering ache.

Miss you.

"This Woman's Work" Kate Bush

Double feature. This song.

Can we entertain the thought of writing letters? The book I am reading is reminding me of how much I used to adore getting hand-written letters. I was always a good pen pal. Unfortunately, most others were not.

I am finishing up my last paper for Sensory Analysis. The window is open and the birds are busy chirping and twitting. The daffodils are up. I adore spring flowers. They have the most delicious earthy scents.

I remember this time right before Lilly was born (T.S. Elliot, The Waste Land), and the depression was pretty bad. Such a paradox, spring. It can be a pretty emotional time for me.

Synchronicity. My girl just texted and completed her MCAT practice test and she feels good about it. Only a few points away from the score she needs for her master's program.

Isn't it crazy the way the thing that almost kills you is the thing you can't live without?

"Sky Blue and Black" Jackson Brown

They cancelled today's race.

I got the email at the studio last night--chalking it up to rain, lightning and 50 mpr winds. I was both let down and relieved. The gallery walk was unimpressive. Sis didn't have many pieces on display because they are in a gallery in India. Okay. It's fine. It gave me time to talk records with Dave and keep tabs on mom. I forgot how much she talks-- about nothing.

Lots of unexpected events lately that have thrown my rhythm. I noticed that I have been sighing a lot lately. What's that about?

After the trip downtown, my girl and Ronan ordered our Curry pizzas (and the usu for the rest of the normal folks), I was happy to see that Ronan, who is a food snob, LOVES the Curry House and we ended up ordering 3 differrent Indian pizzas to try.

Mom's friend (who is a mooch) called and I invited him over to finish off the leftovers. That gave we kids a chance to get outside the stifling house and take in the glorious spring night. We stared at the night's sky and breathed in the air. Lilly and I took turns rolling down the hill, pressing our faces into the earthy grass- just like we did when she was a girl. And for a moment, I was happy.

Mom has taken to smoking in the house again. I opened the front door and it took me back to my youth, when dad would light one cigarette off of another. The carpet and drapes are saturated with the sickly smell. My bedroom is just above the family room, where the smoke would rise and the ventilation is terrible, forcing me to leave the window in my bedroom open even in the winter just for some clean air. Back in the day due to my bedroom location, I was privy to many fights and late night accusations--I look forward to the day we sell this house.

This morning I woke to the whispering and sighing of the tires in the rain and thought of this song. Big Love.

"The Art Teacher" Rufus Wainwright

Ah, Dopamine withdrawl, I love the feeling.

My race is Saturday, but I just haven't had it in me to train as hard as I wanted to as of late. It won't be pretty--especially not in the pouring rain. Here's to hoping the energy of others will help me to POTTP (push on through the pain). Hell, if I can push out a baby without drugs and just a midwife coaching me, I can run 6 miles.

I am taking mom to Big sis's gallery opening tonight in Indy. It should be a helpful diversion, and I always like to see what she is working on. I have amassed a nice collection of art over the years. I think I have over 10 of Carolyn's pieces, along with 3 other local artists' works hanging at home.

It's important for me to know about a piece that I have up in my house, and I can say that I have had a conversation with the artists about every one of them. Besides my David Wade set renderings, my favorite piece is a Patricia Rhoden Bartels that I bought when I was pregnant with Lilly. I got to know Patricia in her Gnawbone studio and fell in love with her work.

My other favorite artist, who owns Clash Galery next door to Michael's Uptown, is Jen Mujezinovic. I have a few of hers in my office.

I am blessed to know so many talented artists and proudly hang their pieces in my space to remind me that beauty is all around me. Even when I can't see it. And especially when I can't feel it.

Big Love To You.

"Time Waited" My Morning Jacket (revised)

I'm sitting in a dark room with strangers listening to The Mountain. "The Hardest Thing" is playing right now. Ugh.

They don't even know I am here. To be fair, this is a better way to spend my time than sitting with my feelings at home. I can at least interact with others on a superficial level and possibly learn something new.

I feel like how it looks outside today.

PLENTY OF FISH I started talking about some of the crazies I dated and wanted to circle back to Bachelor Number 1. We'll call him PLENTY OF FISH (POF) because I met him on the dating site. First rule of thumb--dating sites are the WORST. Don't do it. The men on there are gross. They lie about everything and seem to be seeing multiple people at once. So, POF was a mistake from the get-go, but I was lonely and I thought what the heck. Found out he was also seeing a hasher friend of mine, Dowell Rod, and when she found out, well, it was not pretty. Small Town Dating. Incestuous.

I guess I could also call him Pratfall or Pornpal.

We disagreed fundamentally on a lot of things. It was tumultuous and there were frequent breakups. Growing up with parents who smoked, the thought of dating someone who did was non-negotiable. It doesn't matter how many times you brush your teeth, you taste like an ashtray. But profiles lie. About so many things.

Dealbreakers for me: drugs, cigarette smoking and porn. Why didn't I question those "watch later" shower videos on youtube?

If that is your lifestyle and you are into that, cool. Just be honest on your profile. I'm sure there are plenty of women who would be into all of those things-- just not me.

He told me his first sexual encounter was a three-way. And his brother, who sounded like a bully, (later I learned big bro had schizophrenia) got POF high right before taking the SAT. At restaurants he would take napkins and wrap up any leftover food, rolls, chips, whatever and make me put them in my purse for him. He had 2 boys who pretty much lived with mom, as she kept the house, but on the few occasions she would leave town, he would stay with them in the house-- IN THEIR OLD BED. Am I crazy to think that is messsed up? When I saw he was talking to multiple people at once, I confronted, he denied. I could go on, but I think you get the guy by now.

One weekend he left his Maker's Mark in my freezer. After a Sunday rehearsal, I paid him a visit bringing his whiskey back and hoping that we could spend some time together. He knew I would be getting in touch after rehearsal, however I didn't call first. I was in the neighborhood, so why not? I knock on the door. No answer. His car is there, so I cross to the side door. I knock again, and try the handle. Unlocked.

I call in and no answer. So I enter, thinking something must be serously wrong. Well, it was wrong as he was jerking off to a video. I screamed, and opened the mostly full plastic bottle of Maker's Mark and dumped it all over him. Oh, I forgot, when I pulled the sheet back to reveal his actions, he grabbed my wrist with his lotioned hand. Gross.

Running to the car, tears in my eyes, I vowed to never go on a dating site again.

I laughed and cried about it on the way home- it was pretty stupid what I did. But hilarious too. Funny thing about living here. You can avoid running into ex's pretty reliabily--at least I do. Especially if they are creatures of habit and you don't live on the same side of town. They become complete strangers. Like we should have been the whole time.

Strangers. Who should have never met.