I am in the mood..

.. to write.  I am in the mood for love.  I am in the mood for ice cream.  Not the weird hot dogs that are on the TV right now.  No pickles on a hot dog.  No potatoes on a hot dog either.  If I am going it have a hot dog, I want it normal.  You know...dog. bun. ketchup. mustard.  If I am feeling particularly exotic, I might put sauerkraut on it. Sauerkraut and mustard.   I then have to eat in the back yard because the boys in my house think that sauerkraut is a crime.  A crime against all things holy.  A smelly crime that they can not solve.  They make me eat Parmesan cheese and sauerkraut either across the room or in the tree house in the corner of the back yard.   But luckily I am just in the mood for ice cream.  Good thing that I am not in the mood for a Parmesan/sauerkraut dog combination.   I might have to travel to Round Rock to eat it.   (approx. 20 miles East).  I think it's East.  Well either way, Round Rock makes me think of our minor league baseball team.  I could actually have a hot dog with Parmesan and sauerkraut there..but when I think about the minor league baseball team, I think about how they did not choose me to sing the National Anthem and then I get a little bummed out thinking about all the times I have been in a good mood,  heading to the ball game, getting there early to watch batting practice, galloping to my seat good and early and then at the moment..the moment they say "Ladies and Gentlemen, please rise to"...and then I hear it.  I hear the 68th person they chose over me, to sing the mother of all songs.  Then if they are not particularly good (like last week)..I get really bummed,  and start to think that maybe I should have gone into teaching.  But then I wouldn't be following my dream and well maybe dreams are just a big lie..to make one stay and  wait tables for 18 years...because it doesn't take up too much time in your day to get things "done".  Then I realize that some of my best friends in my life I met while waiting tables or bartending.  Then I think, well maybe that is the reason in and of itself to follow your dream.  Maybe it's the people you meet along the way..not the destination itself.  Maybe all this singing and writing and auditioning and waiting tables and not using your expensive degrees,   lead me to these perfect moments.   Like where that one guy walks in and sits down at your bar and likes the music you play on the CD player.    So you start ordering beer from the distributors that can bring you Lonestar..just in case he comes in again.  Next think you know he is sitting next to you at a ball game in Texas on a hot Wednesday afternoon wondering why they did not pick you to sing the National Anthem too.  So instead of ordering a stinky hot dog, I order an ice cream.   So right now, thinking of how sweet he is, I would like Neapolitan.

I am in the mood to walk the Camino de Santiago trail in Spain.  I will wait until our son is in college, see if my husband wants to join me on the journey or part of it and walk.  It takes about a month.  I walk fast, so I am thinking that I could probably do it in about 23 days.  But that's not the point.  The point is reflection, soul searching and well digging.  No power walking the "Way of St. James".  In fact, I think St. James is the patron saint of the slow walk.  He said, if I can recall, "Thou that walkith fastith will missith the poinith".  I think that is in James 2:13.  Or maybe that is when my pizza guy James delivered my calzone.  Either way, I will take it slow in Spain.  I will not bring a fanny pack.  That is against the rules on the trail.  People have been known to stone pilgrims with pink fanny packs.  I will walk, reflect and walk more.  I will sleep in hostels and not talk about worldly pleasures.  I will though,  bring my own sheets.  I like good sheets.  I can not imagine sleeping on 3 count sheets.  So I will pack my backpack with trail mix (because I will be on a trail), Burt's bees lip balm (because it's Godly and  natural) and 500 count sheets from Sam's Club.  I think they kind of exaggerate their count.  I think maybe since it is a wholesale store they can kind of get away with sticking 350 count sheets in a 500 count bag, because things are supposed to be so big there.  I will keep mindful along the trail and probably quite hungry.  A month is a long time to walk.  I wonder if you can order sheep's milk smoothies with wheat grass and protein shots to keep you going.  I will see if there is an app for that.  A jamba juice kind of place with Basque music and the smell of montechego cheese.   I could live there, if it does exist on the trail.   There is a patron saint of cheese too.  I just know it.  Saint Lulicious.  Look him up. 

I am in the mood for a summer romance.  I know I am 46 and a mom and a wife and really am quite thrilled with it all.  But there is something about the smell of summer that makes me think of the beach and how fun it was to ride my bike from Garden Grove to Newport on a sunny breezy day and dream of perhaps meeting a volleyball playing tan guy that would kiss me in the Pacific waves.  I was kind of chubby and had frizzy hair and probably was quite sweaty after the long ride, but anything can happen on a sweet summer day, right?  I would  lie there all afternoon and get super dark..because, well luckily I am Polish and do not burn..and then I would walk very carefully to the water (as to not jiggle too much) and cool off.  Flinging my salty, sandy, "Sun-In" dyed hair out of my face..never really impressing anyone..but still keeping the faith.   Then, when the sun started to slowly disappear, I would get back on my red beach cruiser and ride the Santa Ana riverbed bike trail home..only to put on music and sing to Linda Ronstadt, by myself.    I would dream of the the day when I would sing in front of thousands of people, sell records and travel the world.  I would write music that hopefully moved people and use my gifts in a truthful and gracious manner.  I would judge others only by their spirits and not by their expensive bikes and tiny bikinis.  I would have a man that I loved deeply and a family that traveled around like a gypsy camp, making friends wherever we landed.  Then, I would walk into  the kitchen, still living at my parent's home and look for something in the freezer, packed with leftovers and guaranteed treats.   I think I will have some ice cream. 


Sunday, May 15th 2011
1:33 am

CD in the second week of recording.  Thanks for the pre sales.  Love to all.