Apple Buck Season!

Ah, Autumn. My favorite season. Leaves show off their true colors, the wing grows cold, guiding plants and animals into hibernation as Winter stirs, and the harvest comes in off the fields, feeding us all through the cold months.

My dear friend Susan Stuart invited me to go apple-picking with her today, and I jumped at the chance! Farm fresh apples? Where do I SIGN?! We drove up to the farm of a friend of hers, and went to town. The trees were heavy with baking apples and yellow beauties. I filled my OVFF backpack tot he brim! And as I did, I could hear the trees rustle just a little more freely as the breeze blew in. The weight of the fruit they bore was heavy, and they seemed glad to be rid of it to us. these trees were old, at least 25 years, and we came home with bushels!

So, I decided it was time to try my hand at pie! I might go for apple butter next, but tonight, PIE. I had to go to the store anyway, so I quested off to get the extra ingredients I needed. There I was, scouring the isles, a knight in shining shopping cart in search of my pie-tin dragon! I'm fairly certain Eric is still laughing at me. Husbands, who knows?

The peeling and slicing took much longer than I anticipated, but it was worth it. I'd never worked with apples so FRESH before. This, my dear ones, is why I want apple trees of my own someday. To care for them, to watch their fruit grow and change color and begin to fall to the ground. To lighten their boughs before the frosts and start the process again in the spring with sweet apple blossoms. Yes, one day, I will have trees of my own.

But back to pie! I went for Dutch style since I have 2 tins, 2 pie crusts, and a TON of apples. Making the crumble topping was a little more than I bargained for, but with wooden spoon in hand I defeated my enemy! No butter would undo me! No flour would deter me ! I would have PIE!

Two of them, in fact. Indeed, husband and children were met with gooey goodness of hot apple pie, and I learned how the heck to make such a thing! All is well, my lovelies. all is yummy...

Three New Cirtters!

We've been so focused on getting ready for Detcon and recovering from Eric's injury, that I didn't see these two coming until I was furiously going at notecards with a sharpie. and so...

Sparkle

Sparkle lives in the far right cupboard
She's keeper of the tea
So when the kettle's boiling
You know just where she'll be

Never ask what's in your cup
If you're sick or feeling down
just know that once you finish it
you're sure to come around

For she always brews the tea you need
Black, Green, Sweet, or spice
So no matter which tea you choose
You'll never get the same once twice!

Orpheus

In the attic you'll find Orpheus
the oldest of our band
He's keeper of the stories
and the songs of the clan

Keep an eye to the oak out front
For a squirrel of purest white
He runs errands for Orpheus
But no one knows quite why!

At midnight you may hear a voice
Like dust on a gravel road
You may hear your name in a song
You're not sure how you know

This last one attacked me at work. I was knee-deep in a spreadsheet when WHAM! Lightning ax and cackle of DOOM...

Fauna

Little Fauna lives for storms
Be they snow or rain
Her axe always keeps her safe
When lightning comes to play

She spins around like a carousel
To a rhythm all her own
Her axe is sharp and jagged
And older than she knows

Static follows her everywhere
As she runs about the house
But her aim is true when scaring off
Every bug and mouse

10 Minutes At A Time

So, in trying to get my Mimsey back to where it used to play, I’ve decided to go back to a technique that has worked for me in the past, but that I haven’t used in nearly 5 years. Partly because my life has been so hectic, but also because I simply let the habit lapse. And indeed, habit is part of why it worked.

And yes, the hectic nature of my life is partly my own doing, but if we do not make time, how will we ever have time? (The only good thing to come out of the second Matrix movie) If 30 minutes can be spared, at the same rough time of day, who know what could happen? 3 10-minute bursts, 3 points of focus, 3 disciplines. I work in 3’s. It’s what I do.

• 1. Instruments. Nothing gets the juices flowing like picking up my Guinevere and Agnes (yes, my Mandolin’s name is Guinevere, and my Mandola’s name is Agnes). Doesn’t matter the song or tune, doesn’t matter if I’m doing solo practice and revisions or just screwing around, 10 minutes with an instrument in my hand. 1 instrument only. Splitting focus in a 10-minute span fractures the mind. 1 focus. 1 burst. Limited time, so I have to work hard to cram in the needed practice. This is separate from song-writing with Eric. This isn’t about creation. This is about maintenance.
• 2. Focused Meditation. This is the tricky one. This is the basis of previous study, but it also requires a quiet, uninterrupted environment. Tough to do when 2 kids and 2 cats are running about, but I have a plan. I have a basement with a finished room that rarely gets used right now. Instant sanctuary space. I’m surrounded by instruments; I need only set up the altar downstairs.
• 3. Free association writing. A single subject, a 10-minute burst of free writing. Anything goes, no sentence structure, no need to connect the thoughts, simply get them all down. 1 subject, every thought that comes to mind. A different subject every day. This was the basic technique used for my previous element work. 4 blog posts later….

I’ve decided to do my first series of writing subjects on the Tarot. I did a dry run on the major Arcana as a whole and it was…jumbled. I also tried doing the ace of each suit, but it just ended up a secondary rendering of my previous elemental works. I need fresh subjects, so off to each Major Arcana in turn! I have pulled my first three subjects: the Devil, the Moon, and The Wheel of Fortune. These are the three archtypes/concepts running through my brain for the next few days. This should be an interesting ride….

Scatter Shot: Ready, Fire, Aim…DUCK!

This spring has been a whirlwind, literally. The ups and downs have had G-Force behind them, and keeping up has been a real challenge. Well, Universe, CHALLENGE ACCEPTED.

First, I tore my left shoulder just weeks before FKO. Nothing serious, but enough to make my arm useless for a while. It was my first MRI, and holding still while stretching out my arm was mildly horrible. But I did manage to fall asleep, so it wasn’t a total nightmare.

Then there was FKO! My first FKO and my second trip to Canada, and I was ridculously excited. The Canadian border patrolman poked at me once, and I managed not to panic. He only poked at me because Eric was doing all of the talking, but overall he was fine. Completely unimpressed the carful of instruments, which was a relief.

FKO itself was a dream! We got to hang out with so many people that we hardly ever get to see. So many amazing songwriters, singers, and smiles. We got to sit about in ConSuite and swap stories with some old friends, and a few new ones! If you haven’t already, go on the hunt for Piers Cawley. He’s an incredible storyteller, and a brilliant singer. He does more traditional English/Irish folk music, but he’s also hysterically funny! And speaking of funny, Gorgeous Gary!! Filk Waif Extraordinaire!!

Seeing Sooj is always a joy, and being inspired by her is a treat onto itself. Two words: Hot McGonagall. Oh Yeah, I went there. But it's not my fault! Alexander James Adams, you know not what you have wrought. And this time Heather Dale and Ben Deschamps got to go to a home con! They actually got to go home every evening! Yay for them!

And holy cats in a basket, Copy, Red Leader!!! Go find them. Right now. I’ll wait, seriously, GO NOW. Worth every second! I missed their concert, but their album is amazing!

On the way home, I wrote one of the crudest, most hilarious lists that I have ever written. “You might be a Redneck Submissive…” Yes, it’s both as funny and as bad as it sounds. The idea for the 4th album also decided to come racing into the 12 ½ hour roadtrip home. Not complaining!

Then came the real-life whirlwind: the tornados. Waking up to the tornado sirens is never fun. Half asleep, we stumbled downstairs, calling to the cats who were already quite scared. We checked the weather stations, we still had power. The funnel cloud wasn’t close enough to panic and it was moving away. We stayed up another 30 minutes to make sure that the next squall line wasn’t going to yield a similar wake-up. The cats snuggled up close to feel safe as the wind howled. We went back to bed, but I couldn’t sleep. I laid awake, listening to the rain, counting the second between the lightning and thunder. Both cats lay over my legs, twitchy but lovey. As the storm drifted off, so did I.

Then 2 weeks ago, I got a serious curveball. One of my medications changed. My pharmacy changed which generic they used for my prescription. Oh, great.

PSA: if your pharmacy ever changes your generic medication, WATCH YOURSELF. Inform your family, inform those closest to you so they can keep an eye on you, and keep an eye on yourself. The pharmacy tells you it’s the same medication. Sometimes, it’s really, really not. One ingredient change, however benign, can make all the difference. This is a known issue when it comes to birth control pills, but in anti-depressants, MAOI’s, and a handful of other medications it can also be an issue.

Anyway, it took 5 days for me to adjust to my new meds. It may as well have been a dosage change. Eric and I agreed that if I didn’t see improvement in a week, I was going back to the Doctor. Last time this happened, I couldn’t sleep for almost a month. Thankfully, this time the manic subsided and I’m back to essentially normal.

But I still feel, energetically, like the flow that once ran a certain course is splashing every which way. I feel like a constant shotgun blast of energetic who-ha. A scatter-shot mess, no less powerful but much less controlled than it once was. It'as almost like a waterfall hitting a HUGE boulder int he side of a cliff and sending water flying in every direction as opposed to simply falling naturally. One external stimulus too many, and my brain scatters into attention marbles, rolling all over the place. Yay for beiung a human claymour mine!

And I know what one of the other main issues is. After this winter, it’s going to take time to recover. Eric and I both took a beating these past few months, and we’ve come out the better for it, but no less exhausted. but the healing has begun. even now, I can feel the sprouting of new growth slowly expanding. These next several weeks will be a healing balm of warm sunlight, pool time, and songwriting. The stories are coming. The songs are coming. And then there’s Hot McGonagall and Kaiju (that's right, I said KAIJU), but that’s another tale…

Farewell, My Niñera

This weekend, I was given some of the worst news I’ve had all year. My niñera, the amazing Latina lady who babysat my sister and me when we were wee small, Mrs. Emma, had died. She died two years ago this month of a stroke. She was in her 90’s and feisty to the very end, which makes me happy. Losing her is hard, but it reminds me of so many amazing and wonderful times in my life.

To this day, my sister and I argue over who gave whom the chicken pox. Hint: it was Lexie. Her class got them first, showed symptoms first, and though I showed spots first, it’s because I was younger and had a less developed immune system. Anyway, Lexie and I ended up quarantined in Mrs. Emma’s back bedroom. Away from the rest of the family, away from her grandkids so we didn’t contaminate the planet. For a week, we were under quarantine, and it was more fun than it should have been, all because of her.

Mrs. Emma grew her own peppers in her garden out back. She grew peppers so hot, when she dried them over her stove, nowhere was safe. Every breath of air in her house burned. It took my father one deep breath to become accustomed to the burning air in Mrs. Emma’s house. My mom took a little longer, but not much. Lexie and I were in agony, and my father had only one thing to say: “It’s good for you.” And yeah, it was.

Mrs. Emma cooked for us, and her cooking was just as hot as her peppers might make you think. It was also some of the most amazing stuff on earth. I’ve never tasted its equal, and believe me, I’ve looked. I’ve never met her equal, either. She is the reason why I LOVE hot food. She's the reason I can eat pickled jalenpeños straight out of the jar. She is a big part of why I love vindaloo. And it's not just the hot peppers of her garden. She, just like my mother, insisted that we try new things.

I didn’t get to say goodbye, not really. But I know she knew. She always knew.

Thanks, Mrs. Emma. Thanks for everything.

Music, Magic, and Bread

After discovering my family’s Jewish heritage, one of my goals became perfecting the art of Challah. With decades of baking experience and practice, I figured it wouldn't be terribly hard. But I’d never made bread before, and this one fought me! My first batch was an overall success, though I did have to sacrifice a dishcloth during the rising process. My second try was better. I went from one enormous loaf to two smaller ones. Another dishcloth sacrifice, and two successful loaves. Next up, it’s time for turban challah! One large one with golden raisins, and as many tiny dinner-roll -sized ones as a single batch will yield. My given understanding made it work, but I still had a doughy fight on my hands…literally!

Natural ability is one of the great nibblet treasures in life, but it can only take one so far. It’s something I’ve lived on for a good chunk of my life. The music my mother gave me is strong, but it took years to master the violin. After my jaw broke down, converting that knowledge to the Mandolin took time. The frustration of it was strong, though thankfully my stubborn streak remains stronger. I was put off slightly by my own bafflement at guitar. Merging the knowledge prior to that blockage with what I knew of violin became an even greater challenge. I’d never had success with picks before now. Thankfully, my husband is a good and patient teacher.

This same principle, I’ve found, applies to the magics in my life. They require practice and nurturing, much like bread. The ingredients are all there, but how they are combined is essential. The energies that we allow into our lives are as important as what we do with them. For bread to rise, the circumstances must be right. The energies of our lives flow best when we are surrounded by that which we love, respect, and honor. A place of stillness and quiet, with just the right amount of movement. Be that music, drums, or simply the sound of our own breathing. This blog was built for some of that rising process.

Once risen, the dough must be kneaded, shaped into that which will bake best. Energy by itself is much like raw talent. It takes many forms, and can do so much by itself. But shaped, studied, learned from, it can be a tool that allows us insight, shows us what we are truly capable of. And once the shape has been taken, only trial by fire will do. That which is worthy survives. That which is not, burns and make your kitchen stink for a week. And can make your spirits smell just as burnt.

And in the end, the result is the same. Nourishment requires nourishing. Now, time for more flour-packed fun!

Winter is GOING...

So, it’s been quite a while for anything new to come bubbling up here. There’s good reason for that, as some of you who follow me on Facebook have gathered over the past months. A brief recap:

Album Release

I got sick
New job! (same company, got promoted, LOTS more work)
Eric got pneumonia (more on this later)
Complete block on songwriting
Eric finally got better
Birthday!
Spring arrived, not a moment too soon
Writing a Musical! (and by writing I mean the concept was that of Susan Weiner, I’m just doing the blocking and dialogue and stage plot)
New baby! (no, not mine)

….so yeah, it’s been a little busy in the wonderful world of Lizzie.

Album Release

Windycon was amazing. I got to see so many people that I haven’t seen in ages, and got to celebrate the marriage of two people who honestly could not be more perfect for one another. They’re ridiculously cute, and it brightens me up a little every time I think of them.

The CD release for “Crowes and Consequences” went off without a hitch, and out concert that Sunday was a whirlwind of Eric on many instruments, Andy’s puns of DOOM, Jason holding down the low end, Justin giving us one half of a serious heartbeat, Beth Kinderman -the other half of that killer beat- and I taking bets on how long we could survive this sausage fest, and me ducking to make sure that the careening maniacs around me didn’t take off my head in mid-verse!

Writing a Musical!

Susan Weiner is evil in all the best ways. She’s put together one doosey of a musical concept involving Cheshire moon songs telling the story of a fairytale princess turned baddass. I’ve gotten the stage plot and dialogue finished at long last, and it’s going to be EPIC. We’re hoping to feature this at WindyCon 2014, so stay tuned!

I got sick

I don’t get sick that often, but like so many things in my life, nothing is down by halfs. The epicness of my sickness was surpassed only by how badly I wanted to do laundry while I was at home. Eric, after making fun of me wildly, put the kibosh on that most soundly. It turned out that on top of it all I was mildly anemic, which further complicated things and left me exhausted.

New job!

I was approached several times over several weeks by 2 manages in my company regarding the work that I do because I’m the person who did it the most. They were worried about risk issues, which I illustrated. Then I got called down to the principal’s office. My first thought, of course, was that I was getting canned. So, sweating mortars, I sat down and was promptly told that not only was I not being fired, I was being promoted. YAY…. Until the job was put out in front of me and I realized just how screwed I was about to become.

Eric got pneumonia

Eric and I got bronchitis at about the same time. His expanded into full blown pneumonia, even though he was feeling a bit better. He actually went to his GP for an issue he was having with his hands. His doctor heard his breathing and immediately sent his off for a chest Xray. If Eric had waited even a couple of days, he likely would have been hospitalized. He came close more than once over the course of the next 6 weeks. That’s right, 1 ½ months of battle royale against lung infection. He had sleeping issues, coughing fits that left him in pain, and a wife who spent every waking moment and many sleeping hours in a perpetual state of worry/fear.

This is by far what wore me out the most this winter. Not the storms which dumped foot after foot of snow on us, not the new job that had my head cracking at the seams with new data, but knowing that my husband was out of my physical reach for hours every day and miserable as a man can get outside of a Vogan poetry reading. He missed a total of 3 weeks of work, sapping us both.

It’s difficult to put into words how scared I was. This is one of those time when knowing the statistics of how often people die of something was NOT helpful in the slightest. And of course my brain decided right then was the time to get mean about, well, EVERYTHING. Eric would rally and relapse, and I would be on the world’s most unforgiving rollercoaster. I’d just found my soulmate, and I had to cart him off to the ER not once by TWICE. And of course, it only stressed him out more to worry about me, which stretched out his recovery time. Yay, vicious cycle.

His lungs cleared, so I was able to breathe for about 2 days before the pneumonia came back. I didn’t cry until we got home. I was quite proud of myself. It felt very much like jumping from the frying pan into a boiling kettle. The relapse news hit me harder than the initial diagnosis, and even though the second round was not nearly as big a problem as the first, I had been so frayed for so long that I simply couldn’t avoid cracking, if only a little. I felt horrible for doing so, because this wasn't about me by any means, and I tried so hard to refocus and make sure Eric was taken care of, but the wonderment of my brain wouldn’t let it die. My brain kept dancing around singing “I’m going to think up the worst possible scenarios and play them out in your head one by one JUST BECAUSE!” Thanks, brain. Thanks a heap.

And, to be perfectly honest, I was reluctant to share any of this at the time because the people who responded to these posts most had more medical advice than the ER Nurses, and were MORE THAN HAPPY to share it regardless of their lack of medical training/experience. Instead of being supportive, people wanted to make themselves look smart and feel important. I simply didn’t have enough cope in stock to deal with them with any kind of tact, so I just stopped talking.

Complete block on songwriting

Which left me with nothing as far as songwriting. Eric kept throwing more and more and more bits of music at me, good pieces that deserved to be paired into songs, but I simply had nothing. Nothing in my brain would get past the worry over Eric’s barely stable health, the contact barrage of snow, and work stress, I simply had nothing left. We couldn’t keep the driveway OR the front walk clear to save our lives this year, it was awful. And all the worse for a man barely recovering enough blood oxygen to have equilibrium. I could almost hear things around the edges as exhausted sleep finally kicked in my door every night, but it never lasted long enough to become something other than a forgotten dream.

Eric finally got better

Eventually, through slow going and easy steps and antibiotics and steroids and everyone in my life trying to keep me from freaking out, Eric made the trek back. The cough still sounded like a huge dog with a frog in its throat, but there was less and less behind it. And as the cough subsided, as he slept easier, I slept a little easier, wasn’t quite as drawn. February came to a close, and so did much of my anxiety.

Birthday!

Is it that time already? Honestly, my birthday snuck up on me this year. And Eric, being the amazing husband he is and having seen me fray and resew and then refray and cauterize the seams of my existence in the previous months, decided to surprise me. BBC adaptations of Jane Austin books! Luckiest. Crowe. EVER. All the kids popped over for my birthday party, consisting of good pizza and ice cream cake and games and tons and tons of laughter. Works for me.

My birthday was capped off with a banger of a Cheshire Moon show in Chicago with our wandering fiddler, Susan! It was so nice to see her settled and happy, and she TORE IT UP at the show. We stayed an extra day in Chicago to see an equally fabulous show by three Fifths at Life Force Arts center. I knew then that spring had sunk in and taken hold of me as three paintings there poked at me for songs. They even gave me melody lines. We headed back home, and little by little….

Spring arrived, not a moment too soon

…finally. A handful of false starts and flurries and deceptive meteorologists later, spring finally arrived. And as the earth slowly woke, so did I. Ok, it felt like coming back from the dead more than simply waking, but as the birds came home, the geese started finding nests, and the rabbits started chasing each other around, I could feel my gears unlocking, creaking to life once more.

New babies! (no, not mine)

Two new additions to the extended family! One human, and one not. A pair of local filkers here in DSM welcomed a new foal just days ago. He’s not even 2 weeks old and he’s on his feet and wobbling around. He’s auburn with a white star on his forehead. The cute is lethal.

Another young man made his appearance at length. My older sister’s best friend, and one of my dearest friends in the world, gave birth to her first child just 2 days ago. He’s the most adorable little blueberry ever, and he could not be in more loving hands. Fairy Godmother Brigade, ASSEMBLE!!!

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So yeah, life’s been just a TINY bit off the rails, but back into the green and the black, the better pieces of conscienceless. Old projects are poking back out for new work; new works are sprouting up, getting ready to flower. Now, if only I could get my shoulder to stop hurting every time I try to lift my left arm, I’ll be set!