...nerves...

I finished the skirt! It took all morning, but I got it done. I also dusted, straightened, cleaned, organized - all things I do when I want to avoid the inevitable. Today's inevitable was getting ready for tomorrow's big performance.

Over the years, I've discovered that I get more nervous when my students perform than when I perform myself. I've decided this is because I can't jump in and save them. Should they fall, they will fall, and all I can do is love them in the aftermath. And while failing is a great lesson to learn, it's still pretty devastating for tiny hearts.

Tomorrow's day will consist of classes in the morning, after which I will head to the performance hall for two performances. I will MC, accompany, and encourage. I will dry some eyes, wipe some noses, remind some of notes, and remind all to smile. And when it's all over, I will tell them how wonderful they are (because, no matter what, they really are wonderful!)

Needless to say, I spent the rest of today, typing up all I would say and making sure I had everyone's ensemble instrument and part written down. I then ran through the whole program in my mind to find any areas that needed fine tuning, any areas that might need to be reworked because there might be a problem. And when my head began to hurt too much I would take a break and clean the house.

I recently read an article on performance anxiety which states that getting excited helps a performer more than trying to calm down. Most of us are lying when we try to convince our brains that we're calm. But if take the negative emotion of anxiety, and replace it with a positive emotion of excitement, our brain and body can be tricked into believing the positive due to the similarities between the two emotions. Check out the article here, and the study here.

So my clothes are laid out. My lunch is prepared. My alarm is set. And I'm excited!

How have you dealt with your own nerves in the past?

(On a super fun note: One mom emailed me and told me that her 6 year old asked her to buy him a bow tie for his performance tomorrow. We'll see if she could find one on such short notice.)

...X marks the spot...

Today I wear a red X to say that I will not stand for slavery in 2014.

Today I wear a red X to say that 27 million slaves worldwide is 27 million too many.

Today I wear a red X to say that forcing people into manual or sexual labor is egregious. 

Today I wear a red X to say that a human being is worth more than $90, the average cost of a slave.

Today I wear a red X to say that I have made myself aware of the warning signs and I'm watching.

Today I wear a red X for the 10 year olds in Thailand forced to have sex with grown men.

Today I wear a red X for the slaves who are being forced to service up to 60 clients a day.

Today I wear a red X for the men, women and children who are being forced to work without pay.

It isn't much, but I'm hopeful that my little X will spark awareness in others.

Who's with me?

I'll have my red marker in tow today.

Let's shine a light on slavery together!

Looking for more ways to fight slavery? Check out these sites:

End it Movement

A21 Campaign

CNN Freedom Project

Free the Slaves

...songwriting...

I have splattered the stories of my life across pages and pages of lined notebooks. Most of those stories were set to music – girl wielding guitar music.

Recently, while scouring online events pages for more adventures, I happened upon a post for a Singer/Songwriters In the Round in St. Louis. At an “in the round,” show, four songwriters sit onstage together and they go down the line, each having an opportunity to play one song. Once they've all finished that round, they do it again with a different song. They might do this 4 or 5 times in a performance. It's an amazing night of live music, new music, never before heard music, and, when I saw one in Nashville, I loved it.

So tonight, after typing the address given into my GPS, I hopped into my car and set off toward my destination. It wasn't until I was driving up and down that residential street for the second time that I thought something might be wrong. Had I done a bit more digging, I would have found that it was being held at a different site than the address given...and it was SOLD OUT!

Determined to not waste my night, I came home and pulled out some of those old lined notebooks and began to rustle through pages of lyrics. I found a jazz song that I had written in college for a contemporary theory class and sat down at the piano and played through it. I pulled out my old computer and listened to bits and pieces of verses and choruses and chord progressions and melodies that had been recorded ages ago. So many left unfinished because I never deemed them (or myself) good enough. They weren't as bad as I remembered...

It's interesting how differently we see ourselves when we look back.

I haven't returned to songwriting over the last few years. Maybe bits and pieces here and there, but nothing like I used to do. That dream has been tucked away with all the notebooks that have been piled into storage bins, only to be revisited every so often, like an old friend. One of the hazards of getting older, I suppose. Somedays, though, I can't help but wonder what my songs would sound like if I had stuck with it.

Maybe next year I should start the Song a Day blog? (wait...wait...I'm laughing too hard to continue...)

Phew! Well, okay, you can follow Songbird Cafe here on Facebook. The next Singer/Songwriters In the Round is scheduled for March 26. Would you like to join me?

...first dates...

This...

...and this...

...and this.

I lunched with these ladies this afternoon. Can you tell we had fun?

Megan and I are only just getting to know each other, though our husbands have been well acquainted for years. So when she asked me on a girl date, I jumped at the chance.  

As I get older, I'm finding that quality friendships are more difficult to come by. New friendships require an intense amount of time, energy and patience, so I was humbled when Megan chose to invest in me. She is interesting, well read, well traveled, well spoken, creative and her company makes me happy. And every time baby Noa looks up at her momma, her eyes brighten with recognition and she gets a huge grin. It's obvious that she adores Megan! Can there be a better endorsement?

We discussed her recent New York City expedition and all that she explored. She regaled me with tales about her adventures during a blizzard that left them stranded in the city as we snacked on happy meals (thanks, Megan!) and passed Noa back and forth. And we ooo'ed and ahh'ed over Noa. At least I did. It's hard for me to focus on anything else when there's a baby in the room. And just look at her! Cutest baby ever? I think quite possibly.

I left with some great ideas for when Andy and I take our own adventure to NYC, and the promise of a new friendship. It was a good first date. 

When was the last time you made a new friend?  

...unfinished projects...

There are a stack of unfinished projects cluttering up our storage area. I'm the kind of person that gets really excited about a task then quickly loses interest once it gets too difficult – yes, not one of my better qualities. So today I challenged myself to finish a skirt that had been neatly tucked away in my sewing box.

My mom and I had started this particular skirt back in October, and she had finished most of the work. All that was left was to sew in the zipper and the waistband, and then hem it. Surely I could get that done in a three hour window this afternoon.

I started by securing the zipper to the skirt with pins, and then carefully began to sew it in. Somehow, while sewing in the zipper I managed to also sew the dress to itself. I'm still not sure how it happened! After ripping all that out with my trusty seam ripper and reattaching the zipper, I attempted to add the waistband. What a nightmare! It was so bad, in fact, that I had to cut the waistband off the skirt before I could rip out the seams. I never even had a chance to hem.

So I spent my afternoon sewing this skirt and all I have to show for it is a lousy zipper!

...pause...8 hours later...

As I reread and edited what I had written last night, I couldn't figure out where to go from there. I sat on the couch and stared at that material, trying to determine what lesson could be learned and applied from this adventure. I had nothing.

When is it ok to give up? I asked myself. When can we throw in the towel and say it's just not our thing? How many unfinished projects can we have?

And then I thought about my children, what I wanted to teach them and what they would see in me.

So I stopped writing this post and continued to work on that skirt. That frustrating, slippery skirt. I tore out the zipper and resewed it. I sewed in the waistband, though I had to rip that out several times before figuring out how to make it look nice. It also has the beginnings of a hem, but I'm going to need to rip that out and redo it, too. (This poor skirt has more needle holes than a piece of Swiss cheese!)

Yesterday afternoon I was ready to fold up all that material and stuff it back in my sewing box. Late last night, I rested my head on my pillow knowing that the worst was over and the skirt would get finished. 

Sometimes, when we push ourselves a little further, a little harder, we find that we were always up to the task.

...and the winners are...

I love looking at pictures. Seeing the world through a different lens certainly broadens my perspective. Each picture has a story to share. What was once gray and unknown bursts forth with brilliant colors and begins to feel like home. I look at some pictures and yearn to step inside them, as if I was always meant to be there.

In an attempt to capture some of my own moments this past year, I decided to enter a few simple photos into the Sheldon Concert Hall's stl250 photo contest. These three received the most votes – (thanks to all who voted!) – and so they were uploaded this evening:

I've never entered a contest like this, usually due to the fact that I've never believed that my efforts would amount to much. It's sad to think of how much I have missed because I chose to focus on fear and rejection instead of believing in myself. I recently read a tweet that said we are often our own greatest unbelievers. (@JonAcuff)

Is this true of you? What would your actions say? 

Whatever you're facing this week, believe that you can accomplish it and set forth to do it.  I know you can!

Update: Guess what! Though I didn't win a "big prize," one of my pictures was chosen to be featured online and in the slide show, opening at the Sheldon on June 6. Kind of fun to step out there and have something wonderful happen!

...what's a picture worth?...

Crystal, a former roommate, and I tramped around Soulard, a trendy St. Louis neighborhood, this afternoon taking pictures to enter into the Sheldon Concert Hall's stl250 Photo Contest. Little did we know it was Taste of Soulard, and the streets were packed with people.

Soulard hosts St. Louis' annual Mardi Gras festivities, and Taste of Soulard is the kick off event. People go from restaurant to restaurant, pub to pub, sampling all that these establishments have to offer. We saw more than a few stumbling drunks, whose conversations and actions made for an entertaining afternoon.

Crystal was my last roommate before I married Andy. She is conversational, creative and she has an impeccable eye for design. Our rental house looked like a home because of her.

Her current abode was a foreclosure that she rehabbed and renovated into one of the most beautiful interiors I've ever seen. The colors, fixtures and accessories are so complimentary that you would assume she bought it that way. And with this success, she's been toying with the idea of doing more rehabs. She should. She really has a knack for it.

She also dabbles in photography, which is why I asked her to drag me along on this adventure.

So, tomorrow is the last day for entering pictures into the contest, and I could really use your help trying to decide which photos to use. I've compiled them here, (remember, I'm an amateur) and if you wouldn't mind giving your opinion, I would greatly appreciate it.

Update: Guess what! Though I didn't win a "big prize," one of my pictures was chosen to be featured online and in the slide show, opening at the Sheldon on June 6. Kind of fun to step out there and have something wonderful happen!

PEOPLE CATEGORY:

Cutie Patootie!

Mardi Gras Wedding

NEIGHBORHOODS CATEGORY:

Soulard Neighborhood 1

City Garden

Soulard Neighborhood 2

ARCHITECTURE:

City Library

City Library

St. Louis Arch

...beginnings...

We roamed for four miles around Creve Coeur Lake, Kate and I.

And I was glad to have worn my long johns – the air was much chillier than the lying sun let on. Even it's bright rays couldn't warm us against the harsh winter wind. There was a calm and quiet, though, that is rare for such a popular place. We encountered only a handful of travelers along the way. And we chatted, as we always do, bouncing around between subjects and ideas, settling here one moment, and there the next. We spent a significant amount of time on the subject of beginnings.

Have I ever told you how I came to start this blog?

Initially, I had wanted to start a blog about kids and music. And what spurred that on was the thought that we might not be able to have kids. Basically, I wanted to teach people how to bring music into their kids lives the way I would have brought music into my kids lives.

So began my endless research. I looked up questions like, what is the best blog platform, and how often should I write, and what tools will help me be a better blogger. I was obsessive over the blog title and the theme. I created a calendar for when and what I would post (I'm still getting reminders.)

Then, one day I began typing up my thoughts, about life, about where I was, about what I wanted, and almost without thinking, I edited one of the blog platforms that was already prepared and posted those thoughts. But it was telling people about this new adventure that was most terrifying. I stared at the links for Facebook and twitter and weighed my options for quite sometime before finally sharing my blog. That night, I barely slept, fearful I would wake up a laughing stock.

I have only been met with kindness and support...thank you for that.

Beginnings are messy. The fear of stumbling keeps us so stagnant, that we mistakenly assume stagnant is where we are safe. The desperate need for perfection keeps us editing and re-editing ourselves into oblivion. And in all this, we lose sight of the hope and promise of a fresh adventure.

Kate's been taking some big first steps lately. Over the past few weeks, she has made another one of her dreams a reality by starting an opera company. Gateway Opera, named because it intends to be a gateway into the wonderful world of opera for audiences and emerging artists, will showcase their first performance on April 4^th and 5^th of Old Man and the Thief. You can find out more about them on their website.

Kate had to take many first steps to make this a reality like, securing a location for the performance, securing the rights to perform the opera, casting the show, setting up rehearsal times, and so much more. She's had to step outside of her comfort zone and do things that she wouldn't normally do (like repeatedly calling people who don't get back with her.) She has been incredibly brave.

Do you have one foot lingering in the air? Are you ready to step down? I can't wait to cheer you on!

If you have a Facebook account, go give Kate some love and like Gateway Opera's page. Don't be shy. All artists need oodles of encouragement. It's a rough biz we're in.

I'll be there on April 4^th to cheer her on. I would love to see you (or meet you) there.   

...floating along...

One of Andy's Christmas gifts from me was a year of dates in 2014. Twelve different dates, one for each month of the year, some prepaid, attached with a little poem about what we would do. I got the idea from this pin.

February's date was for some midnight bowling at Pin Up Bowl in the Delmar Loop.

We started with a late dinner at Fitz's American Grill and Bottling Works. If you ever make it to the St. Louis area, Fitz's should be one of your food stops. Not only are some of the best sodas bottled up right before your eyes, but their ice cream floats have become a St. Louis staple.

If you can believe it, I have never actually eaten an ice cream float. I'm not a mixer. I prefer for foods that I like not to touch each other. Yeah...I'm one of those. Although I've gotten much better about it in my old age, I still like to keep some foods separate. And even after last night, I'm not convinced that ice cream and soda were meant to go together.

With an hour to spare before our reservation, we initially thought we'd be able to walk down to Pin Up Bowl from Fitz's, but the warm afternoon air had returned to it's winter chill and we sat in the warm car and chatted for a while before driving over.

Because they sell alcohol after 9pm, no one under 21 is allowed in. I, of course, left my ID in the car and Andy had to run out and get it. It was nice to get carded. It gave me some time to chat with the bouncer, who was super kind. After picking out our bowling balls and getting our shoes, we took our place in lane 1.

Andy's actually a really good bowler. He got a bunch of strikes last night, even when he wasn't trying and acting like a goof. I, on the other hand, well...let's just say I should still be using bumpers. I bowled with my right hand, my left hand, and granny style (between the legs) but nothing gave me consistent results. But that didn't stop us from having a great time.

We danced to tunes spun by a live DJ. We perfected our singular hi-five style. And we kissed. A lot. This was my favorite part! Andy isn't much for PDA, so I felt extra sexy when he would grab me and pull me in close. Sigh...

As we walked back to our car in the Pageant parking lot, we saw a rowdy group of middle-aged women, drunk and smoking weed, waiting for Mayer Hawthorne to leave the building. We couldn't help but giggle. It's good to be reminded that life can still be fun as you get older. We don't hear that enough in our culture.

Have you planned your super fun/out of the box/out of your comfort zone adventure for this month?  

...short and sweet...

I'm regularly impressed with people who can communicate what they want to say clearly and succinctly. For this reason, I've always been drawn to short stories, and last summer I developed a love affair with short films.

So tonight I went to the Tivoli Theatre to catch a late show of the Oscar nominated live action shorts.

The Tivoli, which opened in 1924 on the Delmar Loop, shows mostly independent and foreign films. The interior structure is beautifully ornate and well maintained and the walls are peppered with old movie posters and Hollywood memorabilia. Walking through it's halls is like stepping back in time.

Andy had never been to the Tivoli, and he couldn't remember the last time that he had been in a movie theater that didn't have stadium seating. But that didn't matter. Anyone in this intimate gathering of 7 strangers would be able to see the screen.

Having never been to see something like this before, I wasn't sure what to expect. I was surprised to find that many of thse short films were quite long, at least, longer than the 10 minutes that I had previously associated with this genre.

Andy fell asleep during the first two films, and while I considered waking him up, he looked so peaceful. After being jolted awake by the ending of the second film, he moaned as the next title blazed across the screen. No! he grumbled. Not 30 minutes of subtitles!

Andy can't bear subtitles, mostly because it diverts his eyes from the action. But this little French film was so entrancing, that when it was all said and done, it ended up being his favorite. So don't let a dislike of subtitles deter you from seeing these fine films.

Which one do I think will win? I'm not sure. I'm torn between the visual effects of one and the storyline of another. If you've been contemplating seeing these, do it! They are Oscar nominated for good reason. Then let's start a conversation about our favorites.

Looking for more information on the Oscar nominated shorts? Click here. Tivoli showtimes? Click here.

...argh!...

As my platinum highlights begin to highlight my age, I have become more diligent about making sure that this fragile shell of mine lasts a little while longer. So today, with a persistent foot pain, I limped my way into a podiatrist's office for the first time.

Weeks ago, while jogging up a steep treadmill incline, I suddenly felt a sharp pain in my foot. I slowed down and lowered the incline to a more reasonable height but the damage had been done. I rested and proceeded more slowly in the following weeks, only to find that the pain wouldn't go away. So I searched podiatrists online and found one in our area with great reviews.

I must say, it was odd to have strange men feeling up my feet, but they were both so nice. After all the initial tests and x-rays, the doctor asked me questions while moving my right foot back and forth, up and down. Within moments, due to the way that I nearly jumped off the table in pain, he diagnosed the problem.

Apparently, I have achilles tendonitis in my right ankle, which has caused the pain and swelling. When I did some research on it tonight, the mayo clinic's description had me laughing: "Achilles tendinitis most commonly occurs in runners who have suddenly increased the intensity or duration of their runs. It's also common in middle-aged people who play sports, such as tennis or basketball, only on the weekends." I'm the former, folks. I'm the former. 

I was told that if I RICE it (Rest, Ice, Compress, Elevate) it should heal in the next few weeks. In the meantime, I have been relegated to the elliptical. Also, I was told to get a cheap rolling pin and use it like a foam roller to work out any muscle kinks in my lower legs because my calves are “just massive.” (He's a body builder – he sincerely believed he was paying me a compliment.)

I still have big running plans this year, though. I'll keep you posted!   

...training days...

An early morning ice storm hampered my plans to see the Oscar nominated live action shorts at the Tivoli, so I spent some much needed time getting organized for my student's performances on March 1.

I might have the best job in the world! I have the privilege of instilling a love for learning music through music classes and private lessons to students of all ages. Sometimes it astounds me how well suited I am for this job.

Mondays and Thursdays are my most challenging days because of the classes I teach. On these days, ten little four year olds bust through my door with an abundance of energy. They choose their favorite digital piano and begin making noise of all kinds, changing the piano sounds to pipe organ, or harpsichord, or strings. A cacophony so ear piercing parents run from the room. So begins our forty five minutes of structured chaos. Though I'm convinced that I thrive in this chaos, it is exhausting nonetheless. Not so much because of their exuberance, but because they know so little about how to be in a class setting.

These classes really end up being training sessions for all that will come next. How to sit properly, how to treat instruments, how to not speak when others are speaking, when to play, when to rest, how to appropriately participate, how to wait for one's turn. And it's not like you can say it once and they get it. You have to say it over and over and over again, as patiently the 100^th time as if it were the 1^st time.

Today I said, “Please get your fingers out of your nose” and “Please get your hands out of your mouth” and “Please get your hands out of your pants” more times than I can count. Shirt sleeves were soaked from all the hand washing we did. But they make up for it with cute comments, sweet words, oodles of hugs and the most marvelous kid drawings.

Are you training for something? Maybe you're training someone. It's not easy. Most days are an uphill battle. There will be moments when you'll want to throw in the towel. There will be moments when you want to tear out your hair from sheer frustration. There will be moments when you will be so weary you won't want to go on. But don't give up. Set your goal, picture where you're going and believe that you will get there.

After teaching these classes for fourteen years, I've seen what happens on the other side. I promise, no matter what you're striving for, all the hard work and hair pulling will be well worth it.

...Breakfast at Tiffany's...

From the moment the first three notes of Moon River soared through the speakers, I knew that I would be smitten.

Though I love old movies, Breakfast at Tiffany's has never made it onto my viewing list. After watching the movie, I turned to google for a little more information about Hepburn and the story.

Henry Mancini wrote Moon River for this movie and specifically for Hepburn's vocal range. A friend once told me that Moon River was the most beautifully composed piece, and if you've ever heard Andy Williams bring it to life, you know that it must be true. If you've never heard it, click here.

Marilyn Monroe was slated to play the part of Holly Golightly, but she pulled out when she was told that playing a call girl would hurt her image. Knowing that she wasn't first choice for the part, Hepburn regularly felt inadequate when Truman Capote (who wrote the novella on which this was based) was on set.

I couldn't help but think, good gracious, Audrey Hepburn beautiful! And in this movie, I pined for her entire wardrobe. Big hats, long satin gloves, formal dresses, this is how I long to dress everyday. In more ways than one, I related to Holly Golightly.

Scared, searching, trying on everything and everyone in an attempt to know herself. Written off by some because of what she did or didn't do. Maybe you've felt that way a time or two?

I've always been an Audrey Hepburn fan. She was girlie, like me. She loved all things pink, believed elegance was sexy, and loved to laugh. She read fairytales and believed in miracles. She needed time alone to recharge. I think we might have been great friends, if given the chance.

In one of my favorite quotes, she said: People, even more than things, have to be restored, renewed, revived, reclaimed and redeemed; never throw anyone out. And I think this attitude, this way of thinking, is what I like most of all.

I'm looking forward to going to NYC in March. Maybe I'll convince Andy to let me dress up, buy a drink and danish and gaze longingly into the windows at Tiffany's!

Do you have a favorite Hepburn quote? Feel free to share it in the comments.

...winter...

Like the seasons, our lives move in cycles.

Desperate for some fresh air, I opted out of the gym and headed into Castlewood Park, one of my favorite hiking haunts. Thought I am not a lover of the cold, I needed to spend some time alone with my thoughts, and hiking always provides a fresh perspective and a renewed sense of energy. I was not prepared for what the next two hours would hold.

Arriving close to 3pm, I parked the car and walked to the foot of the massive hill at the entrance of the trail, only to find that the footsteps of fellow trail walkers had so packed down the snow that it was nothing but a thick coat of ice. Thus began my treacherous trek up the mountain.

I slipped more than once trying to navigate a safe path to place my feet, and, sweet lord, did those falls sting. My feet were unsteady and my gaze was continually down, and all of my energy was consumed with the task of keeping me upright.

The trees were stripped bare, and their long branches played tug of war with my loose strands of hair. I clung to some of them for support. I usually love this hike, but as it went on, it became unbearable. I wondered when it would be over. My muscles were taut in an effort to keep my body steady. My mind was exhausted from scanning the landscape for a suitable path. And reaching the overlook point was not encouraging.

My green haven had become a brown and desolate wasteland.

Summer vs. Winter

As I began the long march toward flat ground, I wondered if I would slip and fall, impaled by the broken off stump of some skinny tree. I wondered if I would lay there in the snow and ice and cold, bleeding out, dying. Dying in the cold is my worst fear. It's not so much the death, as it is the cold, and the inevitable shivering that would envelope my body. I hate shivering.

A man followed me for quite a ways. I wondered if he would murder me, leaving my broken body alone in the cold. I wondered if he was an angel, sent to reintroduce me to a loving God. Then he walked up alongside me and began to chat. As it turns out, he was a wanderer, just like me. He carried two walking sticks. They helped, he said. I found my own walking stick and we trudged on. In moments when we weren't focused on our feet, we talked about our city, about his family, and about the park.

But on that neverending hike, the overcast sky offered enough gray light to see and appreciate the beauty of things I had never noticed before. A set of old stone stairs, leading to no where, but having led to somewhere, that had been in disrepair for many decades. New paths that I could never see in the summer because they were hidden by the overgrowth.

Eventually I gave in and just walked on the ice.  It was almost easier than having to wrestle branches out of the way to walk on what was once grass.  And I thought about how our lives rotate like the seasons, not just in terms of age, but in terms of the situations that we face. Some days are extremely wonderful, full of promise and hope and renewal. Others are so cold and dark, you'll wonder if the sun will ever shine again.

But just like the seasons, the sun is sure to shine again, and maybe clinging to that hope can be enough for now.

It's odd to think that I don't know some of you. I hope we'll become friends before this year is over. You are such an encouragement to me. I don't know where you are in this never ending cycle, but if you should find yourself in a winter, remember, the promise of spring is just around the corner.

So, this is not an adventure that I will take again. I loved snowshoeing in Colorado, but I doubt ice hiking will ever be my thing. If you live in the St. Louis area, and want to see how you'd fare, I left my walking stick by the tree in the parking lot. You're going to need it! Venture on at your own risk!

...fear and love...

While I can't share all of my Valentine's Day adventures with you (I'd like to remain anonymous regarding some) our biggest adventure was spent peppering this city with love letters. (Notice how I say “our?” My husband has now become a willing participant in my adventuring lifestyle!)

After reading the lost art of letter writing, my dear friend, Brenda, encouraged me to check out The World Needs More Love Letters movement, an organization that seeks to lift, empower, and mobilize individuals through tangible acts of love. I instantly fell in love with the idea and knew it had to be one of my adventures. Could there be a better day for spreading love?

All week I've been considering these letters, what they should look like, what they should say, where I should secretly stash them for optimal discovery. And when my heart settled on a location, I immediately began brainstorming ideas for a different location.

East St. Louis was named an All American City by the National Civic League back in 1959. At the time, it was vibrant, one of the biggest cities in Illinois. Great musicians like Miles Davis and Ike and Tina Turner grew up and honed their crafts here.

Today, due to the effects of deindustrialization, the introduction of highways that made commuting easier, and racial discrimination, the city is now known for having the highest crime rate in the United States, according to the FBI's most dangerous cities list.

Fear is a funny thing. I've kept myself from doing so many things because I was afraid. Two fears gripped me today: the fear of bodily harm, and the fear of looking dumb. I think if I had told some people where I was going today, they would have insisted that I stay home. It wouldn't have been an unreasonable request. But...

...if we won't go and love those who need it most, who will?

As we drove down Martin Luther King Blvd, statistics and news stories kept replaying themselves in my mind. Andy stared out of the passenger side window and gawked at the businesses that were boarded up or had iron bars running from ceiling to floor. I gaped at the large blocks of barren landscapes. Icy, slick roads caused the Honda to skid more than once. I drove the wrong way down one way streets. I circled elementary schools. It was embarrassing.

I wanted to turn around. I wanted to come back to West County and distribute letters here. It's safe here. There's no fear of bodily harm here, no fear of looking like an idiot.

When we finally found what we were looking for, Andy jumped out of the car and taped up our love letters. (I needed to turn the car around since I had managed to find myself in the “buses only” lane going, you guessed it, the wrong way.)

I'm not sure that fear and love can peacefully coexist.  We will have to choose one or the other...sometimes daily...hourly...moment by moment...

Which will you choose? 

Happy Valentine's Day!

So everyday I was surrounded by the beautiful crying forth of the ideas of God, one of which was you. ~Mary Oliver

Happy Valentine's Day!

You have swept into my life, unexpected, unannounced, and showered me with love through your comments, Facebook messages, texts, phone calls, twitter posts and conversations. I am overwhelmed by your love. You encourage me to boldly seek out more adventures and bravely step outside of my comfort zone.

May your Valentine's Day be overflowing with love, joy and delight! (and chocolate!)

xxO

...the winds of change...

With Andy suffering from yet another cold, we postponed our Valentine's date and stayed inside, snuggled by the fire, watching a romantic classic: You've Got Mail. Did anyone else have AOL? We giggled (well, I giggled, he chuckled) at all that has changed in the past 16 years since the movie's release. Can you believe it's been 16 years?!

There is some change that is wonderful, and some that is not. When I think back on who I was 16 years ago, insecure, timid, lacking self respect, I'm so thankful that I have changed.

Even in the past month I have changed. I've had less time to watch shows and movies, but I've somehow had more time to talk with people. I've gotten less sleep, but I've become more driven and passionate. I am less concerned about what people think of me, and more concerned about how I am loving those people.

Yesterday I saw a Mexican family walking on the side of a snowy road in the freezing cold and offered them a ride. It was strange and awkward, and the entire time I wondered if I had made a huge mistake, but it ended up working out just fine. I'm not seeking to brag, I only want to make it clear that I wouldn't have done this a month ago. I have changed.

Last year I was a happy homebody. Now, I want to explore and experience and pour myself into others until there is nothing left of me. I lay awake at night and think about what I will do, or where I will go, or who I can love on. I have become insatiable for running out into the wild open air and throwing caution to the wind. Me, the homebody.

What changes have you seen in yourself this year?  What changes are you seeking to make?   

...rock n' roll...

My best rock n' roll pose

St. Louis is filled with indie rockers all hoping to make it big doing what they love (or just make a living.) One of those rockers is Andy's lil brother, Aaron. His new band, Mariner, performed at The Mad Magician tonight, so we went to show our support, not only because we love him, but also because today is his birthday.

Five bands were slated to play, but the second band on the roster chose not to show. The next band up didn't want to play until their appointed time because their “fans” hadn't arrived yet. So we waited for an hour while the sound man played everything from country to G-Love to Nine Inch Nails. Things like this annoy me.

My lack of control over a given situation has kept me from participating in many things throughout my life. We weren't about to leave, so there was nothing that could be done, but I did complain quite a bit about the lack of foresight and organization. Upon realizing my bad attitude, I quickly tried to look at it as what it was intended to be: an adventure!

At 9pm, the band finally took the stage. Their fans? Two girls. (Yes, two.) I guess I get it. If I was a boy in a band, I'd totally want to wait for the two girls to show up. And, as it turns out, A Perfect Disaster was pretty perfectly awesome! They were all quality musicians and they put on a fun show. Andy and I even went up to the front to jump around, head bang, and display our general silliness.

The floor flooded with more people when Mariner began their set. Pushing my way into the front row, I dutifully took pics of my bro-in-law and his bandmates while attempting to still do my rocker dance moves.  It's obvious that the guys in Mariner are skilled as their set was tight and well composed.

Though they were all great, I was most impressed with Aaron. He's been playing guitar since the third grade, but humbled himself and learned to play the drums since that's what the band needed. Aaron isn't interested in the fame. He's only interested in the music.

Aaron in the zone

Now, at 27, he is past the age where people begin say one should have a “normal job.” As if dreams have a cut off point. But Aaron continues to believe in himself, persevere in his goals, and fight for what he wants. Few people possess this kind of bravery.

I can't figure out if it's utterly foolish or profoundly wise...

And who can truly know that but the dreamer himself?

Are you still dreaming? How are you chasing down your dreams?

Check out Mariner's music here and show them a little love with a comment on their Youtube page. You can also like them on Facebook here.

...what the world needs now...

Today's adventure was spent prepping for Valentine's Day. Stay tuned for more on that.

Valentine's Day is a touchy subject for some of us. We've been trained to focus so solely on the romantic side of love that it becomes increasingly difficult to bear under the weight of deferred expectations each and every year. But there is more than one kind of love to celebrate.

In his book, The Four Loves, C. S. Lewis describes four different types of love: Affection, or brotherly love; Friendship, or the bond between people with common interests; Romantic love, that sexual feeling of being in love; and Agape, Unconditional love, the kind that loves regardless of the circumstances.

Our world is craving love. In an age where we can be anonymously hateful toward others without ever having to look them in the eye, where children are being mercilessly bullied (sometimes by adults) to the point of suicide, where young men (and women) feel the only solution is to go on a shooting spree, we are desperate for love.

Though my hair is getting gray, I still can't say that I'm old enough to know much. But this I do know: people don't change if they're being scorned, or mocked, or hated, or ridiculed, or looked down on. People don't change because they have been harnessed with laws and legislations. Many people don't even changed when their very lives are threatened. Only one thing ignites real change:

Love.

I should know. It changed me.

This Valentine's Day, I want to encourage you to celebrate something more than romantic love. Let this post sit with you for a while today. Imagine how you can embody love for family, friends, neighbors, strangers, whoever comes to your mind. Be wild and extravagant. It's love, after all.

If you need a suggestion, I'd love to help you brainstorm ideas. I love love! 

...decisions, decisions...

We've all heard this quote, but how many of us actually believe it? Rather, how many of us actually live by it?

At the music school where I teach, we bring in experienced teachers to “judge” our voice students progress and give us ideas as to how to further their vocal and musical growth. It's very helpful, but it can also be very stressful, since the teacher is not in control of how the student reacts on stage. As it turned out, all the students did very well. It's confirming to see your students succeeding and receiving positive feedback from your teaching peers. It makes one think that maybe she chose the right career after all...maybe...

One major theme throughout the four hours at yesterday's evaluation was the idea that our brain tells our voice what to do. If one can make the decision to sing a song a certain way, their voice would respond to the brain's impulse. But a decision must first be made. This has been simmering in my mind over the last 24 hours.

Singing is a raw and naked activity. While other instruments, like pianos and guitars and violins, are outside of your body, the voice is the only instrument that is literally a part of you. Each voice has a distinct quality to it. Some people love certain voices, others don't. And when someone says they don't like your voice, it feels like their saying they don't like you. Fully aware of this, a singer's mind can become clouded with all kinds of anxious thoughts.

Thoughts like What if I'm flat? What if I'm sharp? What if my voice cracks? What if I forget the words? Oh, god, what are the words? What if I look dumb up here? What if they don't like the sound of my voice? What if they don't like me?

How is your brain supposed to beat that back and tell your voice anything? Thoughts can become self-fulfilling prophecies.

I have to daily convince myself as a performer and a teacher that I am good enough. Questions like these plague me every time I stand up to sing. Sadly, they've kept me from singing more times than I care to share. And even after all this time, I'm still so insecure.

So today I sang...

I didn't worry about who saw me or who heard me or who wouldn't like it (or me.) I just sang. I didn't worry about the do's and dont's of vocal pedagogy. I just sang. I didn't look back on the failures or successes I had in previous moments. I just sang.

I practiced songs that I hope to sing for all of you one day...

I don't know what you'll have to face today, but I'm convinced that if you make the decision to do it, it will happen. Our obstacles become a matter of, not can we, but will we choose to?

Will you? Remember, I'm cheering for you!   

...it's been a long day...

I was up early to collect the dirty clothes, start the laundry, eat breakfast, answer emails, vacuum, workout, fold laundry, shower and get ready, spend 4 hours at work for student evaluations, come home, fold more laundry, go through paperwork, eat dinner, put away laundry and scrub the tub!

Yes, our tub was looking disturbingly dirty. (Please don't judge me...the last time I remember cleaning it was in October! I know...I'm gross.) So I found a respected tub scrubbing mixture on Pinterest and thought I would give it a try.

About the time I entered kindergarten, my mom decided to start her own house cleaning business. I watched as she grew her clientele, hired workers, and made big business decisions. And when I was 12, I was tasked to spend my summers working alongside her. Imagine being allergic to dust and mold and spending your summers indoors cleaning other people's houses. This might be the reason that I abhor certain chores!

But I learned a lot of great lessons during those hot summer months, like, if you're going to do a job, do it well. My mom was a stickler for things being done correctly, and if they weren't, she made sure I redid them. But my favorite lessons were learned driving to and from different jobs with my mom and her closest friend, Vera.

This spicy Lebanese lady and my momma were two very different women. One clear picture of this would be the countless times that Vera would hang her head out of the car window, so as to scream at bad drivers on the road, while my mom, both horrified and embarrassed, would beg her to get back in the car. (These were the moments when Vera would teach me to cuss in Syrian. She also taught me that there's a difference between cussing at someone and cursing someone. Her favorite curse? “May the fleas of a thousand camels find happiness in your armpits!”)

But these differences could not hamper their harmony, or maybe they wouldn't let it. I was too young to know the difference. They would chat and laugh and argue and conspire, and I was given the opportunity to witness their unlikely friendship. The kind of friendship that looks past race and status to see the character of a person. The kind of friendship that stretches beyond the confines of work and survives into the struggles of old age. The kind of friendship that sits up with you in the kitchen while death knocks at the door.

When I think back on it now, it might not have been such a bad way to spend the summer.

Before and After.  I see a difference!

I remember asking my mom why she started cleaning houses. She said that she didn't mind cleaning and that it gave her time to think and be quiet. But mostly, she said that it was because we didn't have a lot of money, and she wanted to be able to buy nice things for her kids.

That's how awesome my mom is...

I don't know that my mom's life was what she dreamed it would be, but she made something wonderful out of it, nonetheless. I hope I can follow her example.

Here's is the recipe for the tub scrub mixture. Give it a try and let me know if it makes your tub all sparkly!

...baby steps...

I'm not a “trier.”

I never have been. I like to stick with what I know. There's a reason why people stick with what they know – it's because they know. They know it will work, they know they can do it, they know it will be good.

But when you are seeking to live an adventurous life, sticking with what you know has got to go!

We celebrated a birthday today with Andy's family at a hip pizza joint in the Delmar Loop. If you know me at all, you know that when my pizza comes to the table it will have just one topping – cheese. I love almost all pizza toppings, just not on my pizza. As it turns out I'm incredibly pizza picky, so I get plain cheese pizza...every time. But, being that I set a goal for myself to do “something new each day,” I knew my plain days would have to come to an end.

I chose my pizza slice carefully from the ones scattered around the table. It was thin crust (good), with sauce and cheese (good, good), and spicy sausage (mmm, okay), green peppers (yum, but not on pizza), cherry peppers (um, ok), basil (on pizza?!?), and fontina (have never had before.)

Sister-in-law in the background cheering me on!

And when I sunk my teeth into that and began to chew, it was like an explosion of flavor...like a fountain spraying forth all of the worst flavors imaginable! Who thought combining all those flavors was a good idea?!? It even had a weird aftertaste of fennel – fennel! I only got halfway through before handing it to Andy so I could gag into my water glass. It took a giant piece of cheese pizza smothered in dried red peppers to get that awful taste out of my, now maliciously maligned, tastebuds.

Taking the first step is never easy. In fact, it's usually the hardest step we take. So hard that we'll justify staying where we are by making up excuses, like, It's a pizza!! Who cares what's on it? It doesn't really matter. Oh, but it does matter. If we only stick with what we know, we'll never venture out past the fences of our own backyard. And if we don't do that, how can we know what's probable, what's possible, what we enjoy. Each baby step that forces us out of our self imposed comfort zone will propel us further and further on a life of adventure and self discovery.

I dare you to try a “new to you” food this week. See how it expands you. Then tell me all about it!

...reflections...

Tonight Andy and I were fortunate enough to make it to the Art Museum for First Fridays where we saw a giant blank sheet of cream paper displayed as art. Andy chuckled, incredulous.

Many people view art with an “I don't get it” attitude. Being completely honest, there have been numerous times when I've looked at a work of art and tilted my head from side to side like a confused dog. I find that to be one of the most fascinating aspects of art. Even while the artist is creating it, he has no control over how the viewer will receive it. It is an interactive process in which both the artist and viewer are integral players. And while I may not understand it, I feel compelled to participate.

One day, I went to an art opening for an acquaintance in an attempt to be supportive. His style at that time was to create these beautiful and intricate landscapes using just a few lines. His pen would not leave the page until the picture was completely finished. I remember gazing at all these giant pieces and feeling amazed at how everything had this sense of connectedness because it was, in fact, all connected.

I continued to gaze around the gallery at some of his smaller works when my eyes saw it. A tiny picture of a solitary flower standing alone amidst these bigger pieces. It's head drooping, it's eyes downcast, looking toward the floor. It's frail and fragile body quivering, as if a delicate breeze might blow it away. Looking weak, weary, feeling unlovely and unloved. She was completely and utterly naked and I couldn't tear my gaze away.

It was as if I was looking into a mirror.

This little flower was me. I was instantly embarrassed and ashamed and appalled. I spoke of it to no one, but quickly bought the picture and hid it in a bag, desperate only to get it off the wall lest someone should recognize me. I couldn't bear to have them know I was so weak, so frail, so unlovely.

I went home that night, hid the picture in a box and stuffed the box deep in the basement. It wasn't until years later, when the basement flooded and made quite a mess, that I rediscovered this piece.

And all those all feelings came rushing back.

Eventually, I had to deal with the things in my life that caused me to view this work in that way. By the time that basement flooded, I was well into my healing process, and I was able to look at that little flower differently. Her humble posture had become beautiful to me. Her frailty was exceptionally exquisite. And, to me, she stood resplendent in her nakedness, unashamed.

It's now on display in my home as a reminder of who I was, and who I am. I have never connected with a piece of art in the same way since. 

Have you ever had an experience like this with a work of art? Will you share it with me?

For more information on the galleries participating in First Fridays for 2014 and the free exhibitions that you can enjoy, click here.

The artist's name is Jon Sauder.   

...embracing each moment...

I am hunkered down in the house in an attempt to escape the single digit temperatures. Andy, on the other hand, is back at Art Hill sledding with his best buddy. He is the real adventurer in our family.

While we had planned to go midnight bowling at Pin Up Bowl, his friend phoned this afternoon and asked for an evening “play date” at Art Hill. Andy, ever faithful, apologized and told him he had plans with his wife. Then, he sought to make sledding arrangements for next week if there was still snow.

My heart melted as I listened to how he considered my feelings! But knowing that there was no guarantee of snow next week, I told him that we could rearrange our plans so that he could introduce his "bestie" to Art Hill. (Our revamped adventure consisted of pizza, fondue and a fun little game.)

Some things cannot be postponed until next week or even later. I learned this lesson early in my twenties from two very different women.

The first was a sweet Hungarian woman who gave me a beautiful flower arrangement that she had designed and assembled. I have always been captivated by fresh flowers, though I never understood why. “It is because they are temporary,” she said. “You must take the time to enjoy them today, for tomorrow they will die.”

The second was an older and wiser teacher, who overheard me complaining that I desperate for a certain performance to be over. She looked at me and said, “Embrace each moment...even the bad ones.” She went on to explain that life is short, and there will be many difficult days. If we were to wish them all away, we would have very little left. “Learn and grow in these moments.”

Their words linger with me when I consider the short span of our lives. Their counsel inspires me to live my life with open arms, welcoming whatever may come. I haven't mastered it yet, but I'm working on it.

What moments have you been embracing and enjoying?