I have a touch of the "FOMO" tonight.  Fear of Missing Out.  Yes.  My friends and probably a relative or two,  are at The Saxon Pub for The Mystiqueros 6th anniversary celebration.  Our friend Davis Raines is in town.  Just the best songwriter in Nashville, that's all.  And so are Bart & Arianne...our compadres from The Netherlands.  All beautiful musicians, who will most likely make you laugh and cry when you hear them sing.  Everybody knows how magical tonight will be.  It's all set up.  Great music, great celebration, dancing, wonderful sound.   We are also releasing the newest MystiCandle tonight...and neither Julie (my business partner) or I am there to witness it.  We have kids and a no sitters.  We are used to this and would not trade being a mom for the world, but it sure would be fun to be there tonight.    It's all good.  Can't be everywhere.  But dang, sometimes I just hate Facebook.  It can make things look so much better than where you are.  Like, everyone posts the best food when you had just thawed out frozen chicken and pea casserole.   Or the dreaded beach photo, when you just ate the chocolate that was in the fridge since Christmas because you were depressed because you were not out with your friends and then saw the bikini photo of the lucky Facebook friend on the exotic beach and really felt like shit because of what you ate and how it made you feel and how she has this fabulous life of travel and ease.   Or photos of your husband laughing and singing like it's the best night of his musical life, surrounded by all of our friends, knowing that he will come home and will tell me that it was just an "OK" night, to make me feel better.    Or the "my kid just got the most bestest fantastical awesome human award".  Oh wait.  I posted that.    So I am sitting  on the bed and typing on my laptop, sulking.  (note:  this is the first time I have blogged in bed)  (sounds weird) (it's not very comfortable, but I am trying to make myself feel better by surrounding myself with 28 pillows and a sip of the red wine) (to go with the bad chocolate) (you know...the chocolate that was once shaped like Santa, but melted somewhere, so you tried to revive him by putting him in the condiment area of the fridge thinking that tomorrow (Dec 26th) you will sneak it..and then forgot, so now he is white when you open it (May 6th) (Seis De Mayo) and it tastes kind of like dark chocolate Grey Poupon?)  Well it did not help me feel better.  Thus leading me to this:

 The Cosmic Balance of it all.  I know.  Light and fluffy stuff.   You know...the things we do on a daily basis that could affect the course of our life.   Choices and shit like that.  Such as:  If I chose not to apply for a job at Sammy B's restaurant in Nashville in April of 1994, would I still be in Texas sitting on my colorful bed writing to you and sulking in my pjs?  Or would I be on that beach  wearing my Corona bikini, hanging out (literally) with my friend on Facebook?  I have no doubt that I would own a Corona bikini, but everything else is a mystery.  Did God dictate it all?  Or was it free will?  A little of both?  Perhaps a nudge now and then or an instinct to turn down that street, instead of the other street?  Sometimes life feels absolutely right.  I'd say for me, the older I get,  most of the time life feels right.   I try to follow Love.  I trust Love.  Sometimes it's not the popular choice.  Sometimes it's messy and it doesn't make sense,  but I choose to leap.  It can be scary and exhilarating all at once.  It can have many consequences, but eventually, I think it leads us to peace.  And in my case it lead me to Texas.   I never even thought about Texas growing up.  I thought about cheese curds and fairy tales,  in that order.   I knew that Texas was big and hot.  I knew  Willie and I heard of Luckenbach.  And Austin and Dallas.  I never thought that I would live here in the big hot state.  I thought I was going to live on the beach in Southern California.   Then I thought I was going to live in Taos, New Mexico, after I watched "The Milagro Beanfield War".  So here we are.  And there you are.  How did we find each other?

And now in this big hot state,  we have this big, fluffy dog,  a sweet home on a quiet street and the best kid in the world.  Next to yours, that is.  We travel all over and sing and play music for our friends.  With our friends.  Not in stadiums or soccer arenas.  Places where we can see people smile and sometimes cry.  Places where people feel compelled to stand up, walk toward the little stage, pick up that empty, clear cheeseball container from Big Lots and pass it around, so you can throw in a buck or two, reminding us that we are doing a pretty good job at making you happy.  If only for a song or if we're lucky, an evening.   And in a second or two that big, fluffy dog is going to bark, wake up the teen for a moment, run to the door and jump on the husband, who will smell like patchouli and music, welcoming him home from a gig that was most likely, epic.  But he will tell me that it was just OK, sit on the couch and take off his Chippewa Boots...find an old movie at half past midnight and maybe drift off dreaming of Lauren Bacall in her 30's.  But I know that it was not just OK,  because people posted on the dreaded FB that it was a transcendent night, where people's spirits were lifted and memories were embedded in their psyche for the rest of their long lives.   And that's pretty cool.  So then I will try to step outside of my sulky self and look at the great dance of it all.  Home with the teen and the pup vs. out singing and dancing with my Mystiquero family.  Pretty even on the big teeter totter of life.  Legs dangling and all.

I just wish I hadn't eaten that old Santa chocolate.

1am  Thursday, May 7


  1. Tina - Another fine and honest blog about life. Rest assured that as good as that Mystiqueros show you missed out on was, and as good as the rest of the band and special guests were that night, that it wasn't the best it could be because you weren't the singing with them. Yes, the band does fly in pretty rare air when the amazing Dutchman Bart and other honored guests play with them, but Momma Mystiquero is a part of that band, at least to me, and I always feel very lucky whenever I get to hear you play with the band or with Walt. It's like going to the movies & not getting to see the new movie previews - yes, the movie was good, but it would have been just that much better if I had just gotten there 10 minutes earlier. Or going to a baseball game but just missing out on seeing some of batting practice. Walt always speaks so highly of you when you are not at a gig, or mentions that you are taking care of Luke at home while he is off doing that thing he do. It's very apparent that he truly appreciates what you do for your family, and always says that you couldn't be there, not that you didn't want to be there. So you didn't miss out, those at the show missed out. And a very early but Happy Mother's Day to you!!!

  2. Brett beautifully expressed my exact feelings too, Tina. Big hugs to you!

  3. I've never been to a Walt or a Mystiqueros show but I'm listening to 'Vigil'. It's as good as it gets. So Hi from the East coast of Ireland, Hope you're all keeping well!


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