Red Flags, Pirates & Rubies...

"If you were waiting for the opportune moment?  That was It."    JACK SPARROW

I've never been the type to ignore Red Flags. Y'know the kind that wave from uneasy situations & maybe some not so pleasantries that could've been avoided?  Sometimes I wonder if they wouldn't be so gosh darn inviting if they didn't come in such vibrant & beautifully intriguing pigments.  I mean, shouldn't DANGER come in shades of grotesque?  The kind of colors you would run from or seriously not be attracted to.. Like dirty beige, puce, smog grey or mold green? (ugh just spelling those tints makes me feel a little nauseous).   But honestly, wouldn't those dyes be a little more successful in heading off negatives?  I mean, I'm quite certain I would avoid those colors at any cost & I certainly don't want to add them into my wardrobe (metaphorically or physically speaking).  Nope, not interested in that swatch for the New Year's Eve party plan.  Red is powerful, magnetic & at times misleading, and (here is the most dangerous attribute of all so pay attention) almost always mysterious! My problem is not so much in the identification of Red Flags. Oh no, I notice them right away. Like a Kardashian to a bauble, Oooo SHINY!! It's the accompanying thought process that leads me to dismay.  Envisioning them not as hazards, but rather as endless bolts of luxurious Chinese Silk ready to be crafted into a stunning ball gown. Not just any stunning ball gown mind you, but rather a one of a kind garment of Givenchy ala Audrey Hepburn 1962 elegance. I'm talking MEGA proportions.  Or maybe as a dynamic Ralph Lauren Rich Red sail for an ever stagnant sailboat drifting aimlessly at sea.  Yep, taunting my naked fingers like a warm glistening Carmen Lucia Ruby on a grey cold night, Red Flags can be truly lovely.
When I think about the alternative?  I'm pretty sure I'd rather be guilty of chasing red ones than to ever be caught waving the white kind..
Pirate Flags?
I'll have to get back to you on that one ;)

Hepburn Hugs & Ric Ocasek Dreams

xo
Birdee Bow

Hands of time.. can't even form a fist

"I am invariably late for appointments...sometimes as much as two hours.  I've tried to change my ways, but the things that make me late are too strong, and too pleasing."  Marilyn Monroe

Life moves terribly fast doesn't it?  It's astonishing to me the amount of times I've had plans to say something, do something or share something with someone & it somehow slipped out of  my day. 

How does that happen?  Honestly, how do the most important things seem to fall through the cracks ?  

Recently, I had the privilege of spending a few hours with some very dear friends of mine.  We hadn't been able to see each for a few months, so it was GOLDEN.

Funny how I felt the urge of time even as we spoke. I had places to be, they had places to be. Commitments & deadlines & those who were expecting us.. I knew the seconds were ticking...I knew there would be distractions & cell phones & general life interruptions & I wanted it all to STOP!!  AAArrrgh!!!

Sadly,I found myself annoyed even by the genuinely kind waiter who took our order because he too was stealing a millisecond of our precious time.   As I tried to mentally categorize all the facts, events & smiles I wanted to share with them in their order of importance, I was subconsciously (& maybe not so subconsciously) racing against the clock.  

I want my 2014 to be more about ignoring the clock.

I want a New Year filled with relaxed moments of sharing.

Beautiful moments should never fall prey to the tiny defenseless hands of a clock. After all, they can't even form a fist!

 just sayin  ;)

Sometimes I truly want to

S M A S H   C L O C K S 

Here's to making the

time.

Making it Count.

&

Not apologizing for it.

Hepburn Hugs & Ric Ocasek Dreams,

xoxo

Birdee Bow

More Than Enough..

"To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment."  Ralph Waldo Emerson

Putting my lyric sheets onto the music stand, I cleared my throat a few more times & took a few last sips of tea.  As I slipped the studio headphones on I thought about all the hours of work the guys in the band had already put into the tracks & all the 9 to 5's it had taken to get here, to this beautiful studio.  The pressure, the excitement, the intimidation, the money, the ANXIETY!!  As the already recorded band tracks rolled, I closed my eyes & pretended I was back on stage.  After all, I wanted to belt these songs out like the business.  I wanted to do it all in one take.  I wanted to be perfect and perfectly wrapped  within our band budget.
  Just as I thought I was really in the swing of things,  his voice interrupted the track like an Emergency Broadcast Test jolting you awake when you've fallen asleep in front of the TV,  "Ok, let's take it again from the beginning. Are you breathing?"
  "Uhh, yep. I think so. hmm, Yep, breathing!"
"Ok, from the top"
Take 2 quickly turned into take 15 & then the vocal booth door slowly began to open.  Taking one ear piece off my ear I turned to see a very frustrated producer's face peeking around the door frame.  "What are we doing today girl?"
 He said it with the sort of cool  L. A. laid back vibe that conveyed a feeling of ease while at the same time a serious sense of urgency.  "What? uhh Sing?!"  I stuttered.
Thinking back now, I can only imagine how wet behind the ears I must have looked.  Standing there with the widest of obviously naive eyes & every hope & dream written upon my sleeve.
 " You're singing this song like you've never heard it before & you WROTE it. What gives?"
 I was shocked, "I am? Really? I don't know.  I don't know what I'm doing. What am I doing?"
Last thing I had wanted to do was hold up this costly process, second to last thing I wanted to do was disappoint our producer.  After all, he believed in us.  He believed in me.  He was trying to make my music a reality &  he was the epitome of cool.
 He continued, "What are you thinking about right now? What's going through your mind?"  
And then it fell out of my mouth as if in slow motion..
 "Celine Dion."
  WHAT?  Did I just say that out loud?
  Was that even true?  What??
  No more than I said it he began laughing.
 I wanted to fall down laughing hysterically too or maybe I just wanted to cry? I'm not sure, but this all consuming overwhelming sense of defeat had just taken over my entire existence & I suddenly felt exposed & really really uncool.   I wanted to bolt, but I couldn't, he was blocking the doorway. 

 "Why in the world are you thinking about Celine Dion, while we're recording INDIE ROCK music that YOU wrote?
 I had no answer.  Truth is, I admire her a great deal. Let's face it, she's amazing, phenomenal even, but honestly?  Not really a huge fan. I mean, I don't have her on repeat on the iPod.  But, there she stood, knee deep in my psyche dressed in some fabulously golden beaded Vegas show gown looking like a million bucks.  This ever powerful, legendarily angelic voice of  perfection echoing through my head..  Her killer pipes & awe inspiring range taunting me as if to say, "You're not good enough, Go back home Sucka."
Ahhhh  The mind is a crazy place. I'm absolutely certain of this.

 "Sorry, we're not doing Dion today."  He said it while propping the door open & motioning me out of the booth.  As we sat there in front of the control board, we talked about the songs, about music in general & why it had become a central part of our lives.   He asked me what music really meant to me & why I had written songs in the first place.  I told him a few of the stories behind the music & he listened.  Really listened.  He reminded me of who I was & what made me different & interesting & most importantly?  Worthy.
  Funny isn't it?  All those days & months spent touring, confidently writing, performing & sharing my music, but as soon as I stepped into the vocal booth I forgot how to be me.  Seems like a simple thing,
 It's not.

I think about that day so often.
 It serves as a reminder that I can't be anyone but me, but if I really live it
ME is more than enough.



Hepburn Hugs & Ric Ocasek Dreams

xo
Birdee Bow

Sweet Arrivals & The Human Condition

"It takes one person to forgive, but it takes two people to be reunited"

Making my way onto the elevator, I checked the time on my cell & a new text message. My 45 minute early arrival was going to be long enough, but with this newly received information it seemed as though adding another hour onto my wait time was inevitable.  Flight delays & airport arrivals, go figure.   Reaching into my purse for the latest Harper's Bazaar edition, I settled into a comfortable seat at the Grab'N Go Coffee Hut & hoped for a peaceful 2 hours of fashion article reads, glossy photo perusing & Earl Grey tea fabulosity.  Situated ever so closely to the arrival escalators, I hoped the every 20 minute flood of landers wouldn't hinder my zine zen & I would be able to block out the mixed bag of  airport hoopla.  As I began breaking into my fresh new style savvy pages, I was distracted by a tiny girl crying loudly & clinging onto her mother's leg. "Oh no, here we go", I thought.   She seemed beyond consoling and then, in no more seconds than it had taken me to turn & spot her outburst,  her face lit up like a sparkler at a Gatsby gala on New Year's Eve.  There HE was.  Daddy!!  Daddy was apparently home from wherever he had been & now only utter elation was in order.  I couldn't help but giggle at the spectacle & delight in the cuteness of her actions as she jumped into his open arms & began kissing him one million times. This darling little girl with the sudden personality change, such a sweet moment! Then something truly inspirational happened as I put down the Harper's & realized these moments were literally happening everywhere.  The tightest hugs one could imagine, soft kisses, screams of delight & a fanfare of emotional scenery. Some tears of  joy & some it seemed of sorrow. Every mixture of laughter & smiles. Grins as wide & gorgeous as I had ever seen.  As I waited, I watched again & again. Every 20 minutes like clockwork,  beautiful arrivals.  Each one more amazing, more heart wrenching, more thought provoking & lovely than the one before. Absolutely more intriguing than any magazine I would have been unfortunately lost in reading.  Heart wrenching novels unfolding in front of me & playing out LIVE on an airport stage. There I sat, a guest in the front row, under dressed for such a dramatic theatrical production in mascara grazed glasses shedding a few tears of my own. Witnessing stories which needed no beginnings, no endings & no real words to convey sincere meaning.  The truth of the human condition & our need to be with those we love.
  Hearts beating, embracing,
 remembering what it is to reunite.
Life is beautiful.
Long Live The Human Spirit.

Ohhhhh I really digg it.

Hepburn Hugs & Ric Ocasek Dreams,

xo
Birdee Bow

Fall & Doris Day

I could barely see her face from behind the tall boxes she was carrying, but I heard her voice.  "Everything has to go! The owners had 65 years in this house, so there's a lot of treasures."  As I made my way up to the Frank Lloyd Wright inspired 50's home with an indoor/outdoor glassed patio, my keen peripheral vision targeted in on original mod furnishings & a perfectly preserved shag rug in golden tones. I skirted around a small gathered crowd zoning in on a table covered with Dean Martin records & a set of drinking glasses with gold monogrammed letter "C" etched upon them. As an uncontrollable SMILE took over my face,  I wasn't sure where I had just arrived, but it felt like my mecca. If I had been lucky enough to be around in the 60's I would have lived & laughed here, I just know it.   I wanted to take it all in as I stood there on this gloriously sunny Fall day in the heartland.  Who was this family?  Who had they been & what was their story? Certainly there was no way of knowing, but their fabulosity was apparent.  1950's Souvenirs from Puerto Rico,  The Cayman Islands & a set of dish towels with gorgeous painted scenes of Mt Whitney, Montana.  This was more than a yard sale...this was a museum into a turn of the century life that not only enthralled & exhilarated me, but also made me a bit sad.
Strange thing isn't it?  The way our lives can be laid out onto tables for the world to sift through.. pieces of our existence creating mismatched puzzles of one time adventures & moments had.

As I made my purchase of a glorious 1950's round Doris Day style suitcase & a 1960's glitter strewn serving platter,  I wanted to stay.  Something inside me deeply wished the occupants still inhabited this beautiful house. I wanted them to suddenly appear from behind the retro style scenic glass windows & see me out on the lawn. They would motion me to come inside for lemonade & gingerbread. Maybe we would talk about the fabulous cocktail parties held here or the way Dean Martin's voice can make any day all at once lighthearted & hopeful.   As the warmth of sunshine fell across my back I walked away across a pile of golden brown leaves,  but not without my visions of That's Amore dancing and delightful conversations over monogrammed glasses.

I Love Fall.

Hepburn Hugs & Ric Ocasek Dreams,

xo
Birdee Bow

Less Tech

"Now Look at Me, I'm Sparkling.  A firework, a dancing flame. I'm Glowin"

There's a Katy Perry lyric that goes,
"I just wanna throw my phone away..
find out who is really there for me"
Such a simple line but ohhh the valley of thought behind that little phrase.  Can you imagine? Who would be there if you suddenly slipped off the grid? In a technically advanced society where we're ALL so constantly connected.. it's a powerful thing to think WHO
 is really part of your life? 
Present in the here & now.
I want to cherish my friendships, my family & those who hold my heart. May I always remember that text,  fb, twitter updates & instagrams can NEVER replace sunshine & laughter.
I want good food & giggles,
walks along mountain paths &
 fresh air while discussing the silly
& serious things in life ..
WITH a good friend.

May I make the effort to listen with my ears & my entire heart.
I hope to never accept typed characters across a cell screen as a substitute for the beautiful sound of a human voice,
 or the amazing rhythm
 of a heartbeat

I long for the imperfect interactions of a life low on technical support

I think it's called

Real


Hepburn Hugs & Ric Ocasek Dreams

xo

Birdee Bow

Slash N Sass

"Risk isn't a word in my vocabulary.  It's my very existence.."   SLASH

I have often joked that I live my life backward...with my pants on fire while wearing arm floaters. YES quite a humorous visual, but also exhaustive, confusing with sprinkles here & there of confetti mania. When I awoke this morning my head was filled with the opening words for a poem I'm writing entitled, No, I can't Swim, but I'm a damn good dancer.  Writing all the things I truly am horrible at ( i.e. swimming)  also forced me to think about all the things I truly am ok at. I think dancing is one of them along with sass.  (I've got the button down on sass) But I never knew I was also good at The SLASH. 

Recently perusing over LinkedIn I found it to be a true nightmare for me. Writing out the laundry list of my varied skills slash experience seemed to resemble The Carnival Life much more than I had imagined. After looking over many other LinkedIn accounts they all seem so serious & so seriously pulled together.  Boy goes to college at 18 receives PHD at 24 begins outlandishly successful career by 25; Now owns small island called Manhattan.  I'm amazed by it. Truly.  In fact so amazed I forgot it existed!  I'm a fan. A fan whose mind does not compute the same.   I mean it started out simple enough...  country girl goes to college to become psychology major maybe teacher.  I'm not sure how that turned into strange girl becomes sideshow act slash writer slash model slash rock singer slash songwriter slash ice cream scooper slash entrepreneur.  I never realized I was such a SLASHER! Who knew?  Maybe there's hidden strength in the slash?  At any rate, I think we slashers gotta stick together..

Can I get a HECK YEH! Slash OMG! Slash...

;)

Hepburn Wishes & Ric Ocasek Dreams

xo

Birdee Bow

Pushovers & Expectations

"My expectations on other people..I double them on myself"            James Brown

Mrs. Dugan was cool.  Not the typical hipster, young & happenin' acquired kinda cool. Nope, she was just born cool.  Created from the type of universal collision that must only happen once in a million years or so. Clearly that had to be the case, how else could such an old broad rock slim fit polyester pants & a matching polyester button up blouse with an over sized bow no less & still pull off the cool? She did it, and on the daily.  Wealthy beyond any of our 6th Grade wildest dreams, it was not uncommon to see huge oil tanker trucks bearing her family name streaming down the highway just outside our 2nd story class window. I always thought it fascinating to see them in the background while she was in the midst of a class lecture; like a huge moving billboard advertising her very existence as a brand for success. I often wondered why someone like Mrs. Dugan chose to spend her days with a bunch of bratty 6th graders.  Clearly she could have been gallivanting across France or sipping tea somewhere with royalty. She just had that air about her. Intelligence & brassy wit, Mrs. Dugan was no pushover.    It seemed to me that somewhere along the way Mrs. Dugan must have decided to make it her lifetime ambition to turn large groups of country kids into kids with big plans.  I felt a positive force of strength from her & so I made it a point to listen closely whenever she would speak. At the beginning of each month she placed scenic photos side by side above the chalkboard, probably 30 or more.  When we arrived in the morning we were to put our things away, take out a clean sheet of paper & write one entire page describing a story or a scenario taking place in one of the scenic photos.  "If I can't pick out the specific photo from your description?  Then you fail the assignment.  The quicker & more easily I am able to fully identify the photo from the scenario you are describing?  The higher your grade".  What an amazing concept, I thought.. "ingenious idea!"  I set out to blow her mind.  I wanted her to discover my scenario photo faster than any other 6th grader ever.  Writing & rewriting I worked diligently to use as many descriptive words as possible in order to make it easier for Mrs. Dugan to find my proverbial story needle in a haystack.  But, each time I received my grade, I was disappointed.  A-, B, B-, C in red pen slashes across my beautiful stories.  "What do I smell?" she would write.  "What do I hear?" in cursive lettering along the margin lines... "Why do I want to be here?" "What makes this so unusual?"  I viewed those red squiggly letters as angry red blotches across my cheery, happy paper & as sad as it made me?  It also made me that much more determined to reach an A+. I quickly obtained a Thesaurus & carried it to class. I searched for new, thought provoking words as I painstakingly orchestrated my morning paper.  And even though I tried with all my might?  I never rose above an A-.
On the day before summer vacation she returned the last paper she would ever grade of mine. Written in the margin in her signature cursive red ink were the words  "To receive an A+ in writing one must be flawless.  Flawless does not exist, but we must always strive for it's attainment.   Enjoy your summer & write on!"

Nope. Never a pushover.
I think Mrs. Dugan may have been a badass before the word badass existed.

WRITE ON.

Hepburn Hugs & Ric Ocasek Dreams,

Birdee Bow

Desperados & David Lee Roth

"You want a hero in the music world?  James Brown.  He brought a feeling to music without really using words.  He's just famous for his sound."  David Lee Roth

While wearing a vintage inspired "Van Halen" t-shirt this week, I couldn't help but notice the amount of times it brought on conversation.  The grocery store, the gas station, the bank. Seemed like everywhere I journeyed, again & again people felt compelled to tell me about the greatest concert ever! Such a cool & resounding ode to one of the most talented rock bands to ever hit the stage. So, when an older gentleman with a grey beard & Buddy Holly style glasses said to me, "Van Halen, huh?" I expected the same rhetorical concert re-enactment of David Lee Roth's spread eagle jump in striped leggings while grasping onto a  microphone stand.  And though Roth's legendary performance is one that I would LOVE to see?  I admit I was growing a bit weary, when to my surprise.."I've heard the name Eddie Van Halen, but I don't know the music. Any good?"  As I began to answer his question, he cut me short, "I'm not really a rock'n roller, but I love music. I might like them. Have you ever heard Guy Clark's Desperados Waiting For a Train?"
He  went on to tell me about the magnitude talent of Guy Clark's songwriting & how he is not only one of the greatest songwriters of his era, but of all time.  He stopped short. "I'm sorry, it's a beautiful song, I tend to go on & on about it, but it's a sad one too." The earnest melancholy in  his eyes was evident as he told me the song lyrics were not actually about waiting for a train, as the title would suggest, but rather about the complex love between a father & a son.  The "train" symbolized death & the parting of ways which we're all somehow waiting for, unaware.  "I hope you will check it out",  he said as he turned to walk away, "maybe you'll get something out of it."  With one last look back he uttered, "I miss my dad".  The entire interaction lasted but only a few seconds, but I felt as though I had just stood in the glow of a light beam with a perfect stranger who only wanted to share something he found to be beautiful & meaningful.  I felt compelled to listen to the song.  Getting into my car, I you tubed the song on my cell.  It was indeed familiar from the The Highwaymen version, but I had never actually listened..  I had never zoned in on the beauty of the lyrical story & the gentle, subtle delivery.  As I listened a few more times I could not help but think of my own dad & those who are so dear to my heart as a tear came to my eye.  I guess we really are desperados waiting for a train at times.
Of course desperado by definition means without hope and I like to think that with a little help from those we love & apparently a few strangers to light the way, hope still reigns supreme.

Wishing you moments with music.

Hepburn Hugs & Ric Ocasek Dreams,

xo
Birdee Bow

Guy & Susanna Clark 

Desperados Waiting for a Train by Guy Clark

I played the Red River Valley 
He'd sit in the kitchen and cry 
Run his fingers through seventy years of livin' 
And wonder, "Lord, why has every well I've drilled gone dry?" 

We were friends, me and this old man 
We's like desperados waitin' for a train 
Desperados waitin' for a train 

He's a drifter, a driller of oil wells 
He's an old school man of the world 
He taught me how to drive his car when he was too drunk to 
And he'd wink and give me money for the girls 
And our lives was like, some old Western movie 
Like desperados waitin' for a train 
Like desperados waitin' for a train 

From the time that I could walk he'd take me with him 
To a bar called the Green Frog Cafe 
There was old men with beer guts and dominos 
Lying 'bout their lives while they played 
I was just a kid, they all called me "Sidekick" 
Just like desperados waitin' for a train 
Like desperados waitin' for a train 

One day I looked up and he's pushin' eighty 
He's got brown tobacco stains all down his chin 
Well to me he was a hero of this country 
So why's he all dressed up like them old men 
Drinkin' beer and playin' Moon and Forty-two 
Jus' like desperados waitin' for a train 
Like a desperado waitin' for a train 

The day 'fore he died I went to see him 
I was grown and he was almost gone. 
So we just closed our eyes and dreamed us up a kitchen 
And sang one more verse to that old song 
(spoken) Come on, Jack, that son-of-a-bitch is comin' 

We're desperados waitin' for a train 
Was like desperados waitin' for a train

One Million & One

Delia was the type of woman whose booming laughter entered the room long before she did. Tall, willowy with long blonde hair & a sunny disposition, her lighthearted energy defied the upper level account exec title upon her office door.  Although she must have been much closer to the 50 mark,  she embodied that eternal 20 something California Girl vibe & a mega watt smile that made men melt. I was the newbie country girl in town, straight off the turnip truck, who had just landed  a  32 line phone receptionist position at a sports film company where Delia ruled supreme.  As  I hustled to conquer correct extension numbers & office etiquette amongst a roster of high maintenance cameramen & filmmakers, Delia was the lifeboat of sunshine that kept me afloat.

Having just started a new gig as a singer for a rock band, the last place I wanted to be was at the 9 to 5, but a girl's gotta eat & sarcasm on the daily with Delia made it far less painful. Pursued by independently wealthy bachelors on the regular, Delia  was most fond of  international skiers & world famous winter sport athletes with names like Franz & Wolfgang.  She insisted that we work out a secret coding system for prospective suitors who would often visit her at work.  "Hans is here to see you..don't forget you have a late dinner meeting with Mr. Jones" meant, NO WAY, not this guy!   While , "No, your dinner meeting has just cancelled & you'll be free all evening!" meant red hot hottie alert!!  I felt a sense of entitlement with our secret messaging & a fondness for Delia who seemed to take me under her protective wing in a male dominated & challenging work environment.  I looked forward to Friday afternoons when these fancy suitors would typically visit. All so eager to meet the mystical Delia,  they looked right past me. I assume my punk rocker, bleach blonde pixie haircut & alternative attire might have been the perfect mix of quirk & rock'n roll for an up & coming film company, but not the refined chic elegance of a woman in Delia's upper crust league. Everything about her screamed STYLE & confidence.

Each evening I would deliver faxes & mail to offices before leaving for the day. One afternoon, while dropping off Delia's I stood perusing a huge bulletin board which hung on her wall. It was covered with photos of her partaking in fun adventures.  Skiing the alps, skydiving, rock climbing, hula hooping & eating ice cream with her nieces.  "Such a cute life!" I thought when suddenly,  "How long are you giving it?"  she asked while entering the room.  "Huh...what?  Giving what?" I replied.  "Your music career..how many years do you think you'll do it?"  She said with a smile.  "Uh..hmmm I never really thought of it that way.. I guess forever? or as long as it takes to make it??"  She looked at me with a big sisterly type of grin that made me feel like I had known her forever, "Making it is such a relative term sweetie, be sure you know what that means for you personally."  Then, while sipping coffee and making her way to her desk she opened a drawer &  pulled out a picture & handed it to me.  It was a photo of her in a magnificent red evening gown, standing on an equally magnificent red carpet with some George Clooney-esque  chiseled guy in a tux & shiny shoes.  "That's me at the Academy Awards a few years ago, I was on the fast track to stardom! But you wanna know something?  Turns out I don't actually like stardom so much."  I stood there.. motionless as she went on. "You will live a million lives in this one lifetime.  Live them all out.  Embrace each one. Keep your eyes open & learn. Each one will make you richer as a person & you will become more powerful with each experience."  I thought the photo was lovely & amazing & although I had no idea about her brush with stardom,  it made such perfect sense that I never even questioned it nor even asked her to elaborate.  A bit taken aback by the serious nature of the conversation,  I shook my head "yes" with an almost forced grin as I placed the photo back upon the desk.

Driving home that night my mind was racing back & forth with a flood of mixed emotions  "well this woman clearly doesn't have a clue how pulled together I AM!  I KNOW what I want. Does she not believe I can make it? She has no idea how focused I am.  Is she bitter?  I'm absolutely sure of my destiny...she doesn't know everything, I've got it all figured out, why would I want so many lifetimes when I only need the ONE  I'm after? Why is everyone giving out FREE advice all the time?"

With every passing year  I think about Delia & the brilliance she shared with me that day. What a truly beautiful sentiment. Changing, adapting & turning toward the light at every juncture. Who wouldn't want a million different lives within one lifetime?

Here's to a million & one

Hepburn Hugs & Ric Ocasek Dreams,

Birdee Bow

A Powerful Thing

"You don't need money, don't take fame 

Don't need no credit card to ride this train 

It's strong and it's sudden and it's cruel sometimes 

But it might just save your life 

That's the power of love "
                                                 Huey Lewis

During the summer months, I would visit my grandma & grandpa's house in the country.  I loved packing up my little suitcase & pretending I was entirely grown up, going away for a vacation all on my own.  I spent most of my time in grandma's room seated at her powder table.  Snooping through her jewelry box & makeup drawers, I would try on varied shades of terra cotta lipstick & Emeraude par fum.  She loved gold jewelry, coral scarves &  bright teal accessories; colors that reminded me of the ocean & California sunshine.  In my eyes, her closet was a magnificent glamour scene filled with beautiful pieces from Neiman Marcus to Dunlap's Department store.  Stored shiny items stuffed so tightly together (many with the price tags still attached) were wrapped in garment bags & shear plastic sheaths.  So many shoes...all neatly stored in stacked striped boxes. Hanging belts of every shape & color.  Her wardrobe seemed to be a never ending adventure fit for world travels, not the humdrum country lifestyle of it's surroundings.  But, I loved the contradiction of it all & I couldn't wait to grow up so I could fit into something from that  closet to have my own adventures one day.  Yes, Grandma loved to shop & oddly enough? Grandpa loved to take her shopping!  It wasn't unusual to hear him say "Mama, you want me to drive you into town today so you can buy a new dress?"   Wow, I thought grandpa had to be the coolest man on the planet!  But I did often wonder how a woman with grandma's total lack of cooking skill, zero interest in farm life & elegant style ever ended up in the country in the first place.
She told me once that as a child of the cotton fields, she had always hoped to grow up one day & leave the country.  She dreamt of a different life, one she had imagined through letters & gifts in the mail. Each year she & her sisters would receive a beautiful box wrapped in ribbons containing one school dress from their aunt.   Auntie was an enigmatic character who apparently left the country as a young girl & educated herself in the city.  She married wealthy & became a socialite.  Grandma shared photos of Auntie's beautiful Victorian style home & a brooch that had once belonged to her.  Auntie was regal & stately with impeccable style &  grace.  It was hard for me to imagine that Auntie had ever spent one day working in a cotton field, or for that matter even an afternoon in the sun!  She told me how she was always Auntie's favorite & how Auntie wanted her to come to the city after high school to continue her education, follow in her footsteps & leave the dirt fields behind.   I know that Grandma had met Grandpa sometime after high school & that he was an older, very eligible bachelor who not only owned some land & a few oil leases, but also had a great job.  A fine catch, handsome as the day was long with Native American heritage & steel blue eyes.   Here's where the details get fuzzy, but there must have been a breakup because they stopped seeing one another for a time & Grandma moved away. She started a new life with Auntie in the city & a new venture into secretarial school.  I could always picture her there with her perfectly coiffed curls & tiny frame. Such a beautiful girl, she must have been quite the splash in dresses & patent leather pumps making her way to classes upon the concrete.  As she told it, it was a great time, but there was always something missing.   One afternoon, Grandpa surprised her by showing up unannounced. Having just bought a new car, he decided to break it in by driving 300 miles to surprise her.  He told her he couldn't live without her any longer & asked her to marry him.  She said it was quite evident that he wasn't going home without her & well.. she was alll too happy to oblige.  :)
They got married that very weekend in Auntie's house.  Grandma settled into the country with Grandpa & she never looked back.  They were married 62 years before he passed away & although I never fully understood how the woman who seemed more Park Avenue apartment than country ranch house could have ever found happiness on the prairie,

 one thing is for sure..
She truly did.

Love is A Powerful Thing


Hepburn Hugs & Ric Ocasek Dreams

xo

Birdee Bow

Treat YO Self...

"Treat Yo Self.  Don't Cheat Yo Self!!"

We live in a world where the phrase "Treat Yourself!" primarily conjures up ideas of shopping on Madison Avenue or maxing out your Amex on the hottest new trend item at Nastygal.com. And I won't even mention the sugar induced brain freeze thoughts of treating yourself to ice cream or extra helping sprinkles atop that Ben & Jerry's Chunky Monkey waffle cone. We all know those treats are delicious. 

Deliciously fabulous.

..but forever fleeting.  

I began contemplating the Treat YO Self term yesterday when a friend of mine said,

"You work too hard, you really should treat yourself more often."  

WHA?  Seriously?

It struck me as funny because I feel like I treat myself all the time. 

I'm pretty sure my entire life has been a somewhat selfish, self absorbed kinda treatment.

I think she meant a different type of nurturing.

It made me stop & think about the real treatment I'm after.

The true treatment that makes it all worth while.. 

( Hint: it has little to do with Chanel Boxes) 

TREAT YO Self!

Treat yourself to some positive thoughts about who you are & how far you've come.

Treat yourself to some beautiful memories from moments that melt your heart.

Treat yourself to a convo with some positive someone who would LOVE to hear from you.

Treat yourself to

*Lazy Days

*No Fretting Days

*Days Without Purpose &

*Days of Rest

Treat yourself to a long walk with sunshine on your shoulder..

Treat yourself to silliness, awkwardness &

Complete Unplanned Randomness

It's your play list

go ahead

play your favorite song

All

Day

Long

Hepburn Hugs & Ric Ocasek Dreams,
xo

Birdee Bow

Rejection Protection..

"When you're following your inner voice, doors tend to eventually open for you, even if they mostly slam at first. "  Kelly Cutrone

I've heard the saying
 "Rejection is God's Protection"
  Honestly, when I think back about all the things which almost worked out, didn't quite work out or FLAKED out on me at the last second? I often breathe a deep sigh of relief.  Oh, sure the heartbreak at the time was monumental, earth shattering.  The kind of break that lands you in your pj's for weeks with absolutely no clue where to turn or what to do next & ZERO feelings of hudspah to try it all again.

One thing I've learned about rejection is that it's freeing..

I often tell my friends,
 "I've been rejected by the best. By now I must be shatterproof & fearless!"
And it's true.
All the times I didn't try something I truly wanted to do?
It was because I was afraid of rejection.
Afraid of not measuring up
Afraid I wouldn't come out on top.

There is no TOP.
It's a myth.

There's only here & now.

These moments.

Just as beauty is in the eye of the beholder?
I believe rejection is in the doubt of the non believer..

And the only believer you need to succeed?

is

YOU

Hepburn Hugs & Ric Ocasek Dreams,

xo

Birdee Bow

You can Fake It. Just Shake It :)

"Let's Dance. Put on your Red Shoes &
Dance The Blues"
  David Bowie

The stars were super twinkly that night, a beautiful style distraction.   The kind of twinkling that catches the corner of your eye leaving you unsure of what you may have just seen, but far too beautiful to be a satellite or a plane.

As I made my way through the crowd, I began to realize my long circular skirt & vintage cardigan might have been an overdressed choice for this country gathering. Picnic blankets, girls in denim cutoffs & guys in ball caps were more the norm.  I didn't care.  I felt alive, happy in the summer warmth & ready for good music.  Just as the band struck a downbeat, an older gentleman appeared out of thin air and hit the dance floor.  Hit seems a rather lackluster word for the amount of oomph & fervor he possessed.   His was the type of enthusiasm one would usually associate with a 20 Something on a Cancun spring break weekend, but with much more grace & refinement. Dapper style in a brown bowler hat & suspenders, his gray beard & pale gray tweed pants seemed the type of match up that could only have been a magical mistake. Whisking up a girl from the front row,  I watched in amazement as he swung her around the dance floor.  Fluid movement with rapid fire accuracy.  Commanding the attention of everyone near the gazebo lights, their SMILES were louder than the entire band on stage.  I was mesmerized..

Just then, I felt a soft voice upon my shoulder,

 "You can't wear a fabulous skirt like that & not twirl it on the dance floor", a beautiful woman with long silver hair & the brightest green eyes ever continued "You gotta get out there!"  "Ah. Thank you No, but I do love watching those 2!  Look at 'em go!" I replied.  "I know, she went on, That's my husband, isn't he handsome? I usually wait to jump in later in the evening. We're both dancers from way back. Keeps us young!"  We continued  talking over the loud speakers & exchanged thoughts about the summer temperatures & the way we both loved vintage clothing & a myriad of girlish things, when suddenly it happened. Grabbing my hand from off my hip, "My wife says you wanna dance!"  " Ohhh. uh.no. y'know. I'm just here for the band..uh, please I'd rather not..uh

BOOM.

There I was on the dance floor with The Advanced Dancing Machine & although I knew there was no spotlight in sight?  I felt one shining straight down. 

On me. 

Highlighting all  my awkwardness.

Just as I went into full panic mode.
Just as I had decided that right now would be a perfect time to fake an asthma attack or a fainting spell,
A

 miracle happened.

I began to dance.

I began to dance a dance I had never danced before.

Following his lead, I twirled, quick stepped & literally flew through the air.

"You got this! " he kept saying as I shook my head in fear.

I felt like one of those 

dancing girls on GREASE who just randomly fall into the hand jive by accident. 

Y'know the ones who somehow

 (through the magic of cinema) know all the predetermined stops & starts? 

It wasn't long before my laughter engulfed my fears & I was (later as I learned)  dancing the jitterbug.

Don't ask me how.

A few dances later & a limbo line or two,  I made my way home.

Putting the skirt back onto the hanger, I brushed my fingers across it's shiny organza.

It seemed to shine more brightly, 

like it knew it had stolen the twinkle away from the stars that night.

Sometimes when I catch even a glimpse of that skirt, I swear it beckons to me..

to go out 

& 

dance.

Hepburn Hugs & Ric Ocasek Dreams

xo

Birdee Bow

The GOOD Stuff!

THE GOOD STUFF

When you fully realize you have zero skills at something new 

(like photography or cooking) 

 but you don't care.

  YEP.  

Just Click It.

The squishy first barefoot steps

 you take in the grass 

after a looooong winter..

That sick/happy/scared/great

 feeling when you know there's a

HUGE chance

 you will fall on your face &

 millions of people might laugh at you

 but

 you're

 gonna 

try it

 anyway.

That instant, when someone is

Sharing their happiness with you 

& you feel your own heart
start beating faster out of
excitement

Just for
 them

When a stranger asks for directions & you actually know the answer..

Understanding that vinyl

 may never make a comeback,

 but your own

comeback

ability

is

Infinite

That ZERO pause feeling when you move in to help,

Or 

Catch

someone

The actualization that even if you wanted to, there is no way, no time & not enough paper in the world to list all

 the beautiful 

possibilities

for
your
future

Wishing you All The Good Stuff Today! 

Hepburn Hugs & Ric Ocasek Dreams,

xo

Birdee Bow