"If you burn your kitchen down people are far more likely to ask you out for dinner."
Birdee Bow
I still remember peering into the window from the huge wooden front porch. The large beveled glass door was locked, but just inside I could see the beautiful black and white checkered floor of the entry way and a massive wooden staircase just beyond a set of french doors leading into the dining room. So beautiful! I screamed out loud and prayed that it hadn't already been taken. Sitting on the front porch swing I tried the number on the FOR RENT sign again on my cell phone. Oh please please answer, this is the house we so desperately need!!
Only a few days in from our mass exodus out of L.A. (on one of the hottest days on record in the San Fernando Valley and a subsequent rolling blackout) we had been looking for a place. Some place cheaper and more laid back. Some place easier. A place where the six of us could focus on writing music as a band for the next 12 months and save money for a new album and a U.S. tour. As is the scenario of most events in my life, it happened suddenly. One evening around 10pm as we searched the Internet in our stifling hot non ac style Canoga Park hotel room, boom, there it was. This beautifully scenic small college town in Kansas where we had remembered playing a few times along our journey and one that we not only had a few darling and friendly fans to play for, but also where (we had just discovered) a 6 bedroom 2 bathroom Victorian house with a full basement for rehearsals and ghetto demo making was only 1400 bucks a month. Yep, literally within hours we loaded up the van and headed out across the Mojave Desert.
1500 miles later, there I was, actually standing on the front porch of this massive house I had found on craigslist back in Cali. Ahhhh the excitement, the fear, the exhaustion. Moving into the place was such a fun adventure! We had not one item of furniture with us, nothing except band equipment, recording gear, suitcases and a lot of hope. Fast forward a few months to our newly thrift store furnished & severely chic vintage shoppe decor, rockin' cool, Victorian Band House. Fun, fabulous and the hip place to hang out on weekends as we had an ever revolving door of new found friends, free basement rock shows and board game nights (my fave).
One quite normal morning as one of the guys left for his work day I heard him say, "Hey! Chimichangas in the freezer and I left some oil on the stove, just in case you want some for lunch."
Yeh Awesome! Thanks. Walking into the kitchen, I clicked on the stove top burner and started up that oil.
Ok, so here's where the details get a little fuzzy, but I know one thing for sure, the doorbell rang. It was the mailman with a huge package of some sort of bass gear. I signed for it and went back into the house. Only I didn't make it back into the kitchen, I somehow decided to start cleaning out the closet in my bedroom (yeh no clue why). Also, no idea how much time had passed, but as I folded sweaters neatly into a pile, I heard it began to blare...the fire alarm. Opening my bedroom door, the room filled with smoke. CHIMICHANGAS. Yeh, now I remembered. Walking down the long hallway toward the kitchen I could see only flames shooting from inside the kitchen doorway. Yeh, it was too late to even think about going in there.
Grabbed my cell and did the 911. Apparently there is a serious pause of life that happens when tragedy strikes, a slowing down of time that seems as if you are lifelessly floating above the current moment. Suddenly trying to predict the outcome becomes almost as mind numbing as the tragedy at hand. I think it only took the fire department 5 minutes to get there, during that time I called (crying like a fool) twice and felt like 5 HOURS had already passed as the lovely dispatcher lady kindly talked me out of my panic and told me to NOT under any circumstances go back into the house.
As I envisioned burning band equipment, guitar amps, drum kits and all our dreams going right up into smoke, I saw the first fire truck turning the corner at least 4 blocks away. Standing in the middle of the street I waved my hands jumping up & down like a crazy person. In my sleep shorts, ripped t shirt & last night's hair do, I resembled a post club night Courtney Love lost in Kansas. I waved and waved until the truck actually honked at me to move out of the street. Yes, admittedly not my proudest moments.
The first fireman who walked toward me was an older man with the most calming nature I have ever encountered. As the others ran past me into the house, this fireman hugged me and told me everything would be ok. I didn't even realize how upset I was (like I said, that whole slow motion thing), but when he hugged me? I felt my knees buckle as I collapsed in his arms & felt like I might vomit. Ahhh lucky guy! Stuck there holding a hot mess.
I'll never forget that first axe hit, the one they do to check for pressure. Perfectly sideways, right across the perfectly beautiful kitchen window. Ugh. I'm pretty sure I lost my cookies at that point and the rest is a blur as band mates came flooding in from their jobs and daily routines. I've never quite felt more like a loser than on that day, but the good part? The damage was completely contained within the kitchen and no serious damage took place. Ok, YES, except for the entire kitchen. Luckily, our landlord was a saint and literally was more worried about all of us than the kitchen. Kansans are awesome btw.
I helped that summer with the remodel of the kitchen & the repainting of the house. Although yes I was probably more in the way than anything, but it's the thought and the fresh lemonade that really counts right?
One of the songs off the new album was entitled Four Alarm Fire. Ahhh the circle of Art & Life, Life & Art.
May you encounter a friendly fireman sans the flames.
May you only eat Chimichangas at restaurants.
Hepburn Hugs & Ric Ocasek Dreams
xoxo
Birdee Bow
