find me some music

I came across this site recently, and I thought you might appreciate it.

GREAT place to go to discover quality music which, of course, means you won't hear it on any popular radio station. 

icj,

~j

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music :: amy godwin

just stay with the song after the first 30 seconds...it is worth it.



oh yes. i want to bottle that voice up and break it out milli vanilli style. this is the sort of music zoey deschanel should have been recording.

thank you, ms. godwin.

icj,
~j

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music :: valley maker

valley maker

Listen to the piece before reading the remainder of this post, please.

hagar & ishamael :: without a doubt, the most influential and moving musical influence upon my new motherhood.

I guess it’s about time I admit on the blog that I work in Christian ministry (egads!!). So I’m familiar, to say the least, with the SaraiAbramIsaacHagarIshmael saga. In the past, I read this piece and considered neither woman admirable. I pictured Hagar as a scheming, bratty girl, and Sarai as a shriveled, tight-bunned English woman.

Haha. Sorry, England. You guys have great mysteries, though. And pretty royals who resurrect habadashery.

Now I cannot hear this piece without being physically affected. I have a son. When he was first born I did not repeat, “I have a baby,” nor did I introduce him or refer to him as “my baby.” Rather, I would look down at his round face and whisper, “my son. I have a son.” Over and over and over and over and over. It marks an entire shift in my own identity.  I am not just a mother, but a mother of a son. This son. I cannot convey how much this one word, son, has altered my reality and my character.

And when I listen to this piece, for the first time I see Hagar as a servant girl being pulled into this awkward and unappealing union. Rightly so, she demanded respect from Sarai after her son was born :: has her own mind, too ::. I imagine she demanded respect especially for her son, and also understandably though with less empathy on my part, I see Sarai being ticked by this turn of events.

Oh servant you should run

and take with you your son

And then to be cast off. To be replaced. To offer the son the last food your body can muster and see him starving at the end of it, finally unable to watch anymore, throwing oneself on the ground yet within earshot of the wailing babe. Wanting to die because he is dying.

I know now that I must do anything for the good of my son. How vulnerable that makes me, how fragile and yet how strong :: a servant of the lord though you do not see a servant of the lord will you always be :: Even though she’s not part of the plan. She’s not chosen. She’s a mistake. And yet, she is seen, given a promise and reminded of her worth.

I share nothing in common with Hagar but this form of motherhood, but it is enough to shift my perspective and now admire this servant girl. And lastly, to admire the providence that accompanies her though she is not part of the plan per se. I think of every babe who wasn’t part of the plan, and I find in this passage, this song, affirmation of their existence, their life, their singular purpose, their worth.

Enjoy.

Thank you for reading, friends.

icj,

~j 

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a little providence with beer on the side

It's been rough. Poor sonny boy is sick (the first time ever), and I feel almost overwhelmed by the challenge of full-time employee, and mother & wife. I know this is somewhat "normal," but I don't want normal. I don't want a mediocre marriage or for my child to be raised and loved by another more than myself, nor do I want to spend the time away from the two I love most unless it is real quality stuff I'm doing. So when I heard that Mike Mangione had a last-minute live solo show at Turner Ballroom in Milwaukee, I made sure Ace had enough to eat and headed off for a little gather-yourself-girl time. Maybe some mothers need to get away from their children, but not me. It killed me to leave him for those 90 minutes, but I knew I needed to collect myself and just be somewhere I couldn't cry.


So of course, I got there when it was almost over. And I couldn't see any of my friends in the darkness, so I couldn't get a beer---don't want to be that weird short married chick who drinks alone at a concert---so I was doubly crushed. Then, from across the room, I spotted our friends G & D! They were our marriage prep couple back in 08-09. I had asked them to fulfill the role for a number of reasons, none the least of which was this conversation at their house one evening:


D: "Jen, want to try my latest home brew?"
Jen: "Um, yes please."
D pours pretty amber beer and hands to happy Jen.
D: "Hawk, you?"
Hawk: "Absolutely."
D pours sweet-smelling amber beer and hands to happy Hawk.
D to 5-year-old: "Son, would you like a beer?"
Son: "Sure."
D pours an ounce and hands to happy son, who clearly doesn't appreciate how European (and awesome) this exchange truly is. Spoiled. I want our kids spoiled in that European way.


They are excited to see me, not because I'm that great but because they are. Oh, what a tremendous grace. I'm at my wits' end and there they are, a plethora of good-marriage-ness, understanding expressions, authentic empathy, and sarcastic banter to make it less surreal. We only spent about 45 minutes together, but we were able to partake of a pint of Fat Tire and share a little convo. I expressed my failings, and among the many golden tidbits they dropped me between gulps of goodness, D said this:


The first 2-3 years were the hardest for us. I realized I had to figure out what was important to her and then attend to it. You gotta figure out what is important to each other.


He said it not in the generic "Love your hubbie's music and your wife's cooking" sort of way, but in the "this is where they need you to show up, and that's where they expect you to be regardless of whether or not you actually know it." 


We listened to the first 2 songs of Bobby Long's show and then all took off for our familial responsibilities (and joys!). When I returned home and helped arrange poor sick Ace, Hawk came up to me, wrapped his arms around me, and told me that he loves me. I really needed to hear that right at that moment. I relayed the previous 90 to him, and we're agreed in discerning and sharing what is important to us at this time. No guessing games. No ledger systems. No "cookies or medals or chests to pin them on."


Wait, you guys used to say that in middle school, too, right?


I'll leave you with one of my favorite Mike Mangione & the Union songs, Woman in Gown. I think it was recorded a few years back, though the song was only recently released, because I can see a Tenebrae drum in the background---from his second album.


Please enjoy. And thank you for listening.

icj,

j

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mass street & the music man

First, I'm sorry. We've been away from blogging for 5 days. Maybe six. Either way, thank you for staying with us, and we hoped you also enjoyed the time away. But we're glad to have you back!

Those of you who've been with us a while know that Hawk is a fan of the mandolin. While others stalk facebook, read books, or catch their latest favorite episode, Hawk grabs his mandolin and surfs youtube or themandolinstore for sound clips and the latest models up for sale.

So when our families were finally able to give him a real mandolin for Christmas, he planned to use a portion of our time with Luck Luke & Lori at the infamous Mass Street Music.

Considering their level of expertise, the work he received on the mando was about 25% of what we expected to spend. Here's one of the guys plunkin' away on Hawk's mando:

All in all, it took about 2 hours of work on the mando, so the four of us had plenty of time to peruse each instrument on their second floor. This shot was taken toward the end. And though we were having a blast learning everything from the internal design of a guitar to what makes one piece more collectible than the next, you can see by Lori's face that we were getting ready for some NCAA games. You'll also see a desk to the right:

That desk is the home of this guy, Tim Nelson, master of all things stringed. He answered every question with grace and enthusiasm. And trust me, we had a lot to ask.

Half the time while Lori and I asked questions, the boys plunked away at every instrument, one by one.

I'm convinced that Luke's children are someday going to frame this photo of him. It's so classic:

The shoppe boasts banjos, electric, slide, and classical guitars, and of course, mandolins. I'm sure there was an even greater variety downstairs, but we had enough to keep us busy in this one room. I was constantly terrified of knocking over this row of banjos:

And you can see the A & F style mandolins, as well as the older model which has the opening under the strings (I really hope no musicians are reading this. I'm terrible at the lingo).

Later, Mr. Nelsen mentioned that they have 2 guitars valued at 40k & 80k. I asked (who wouldn't?) if we could see one of them. He brought out the "cheaper" of the two and offered it to me to play. I said I couldn't bring myself to breathe on it. So Hawk picked it up. It is a 1929 (1932?) Martin, very worn, and very full in sound.

You can see the decades of pick-marks in this shot:

Finally, we took off in search of a Kansas bar that had access to the Wisconsin game. We stopped here first and waited until we were sure that they couldn't get the game.

then took off for about 20 minutes of searching down Mass St. We settled in a Buffalo Wild Wings. Less coloquial, but we were surrounded with 10 screens. It won. And so did Wisconsin.

Our last big event of the day involved fabric. It turns out that Lori is a quilter! SO EXCITING. We actually have quite a bit in common when it comes to our love of things homemade and less-new. We stopped here first...I just sighed with happiness.

Both Hawk and I separately noticed this fabric, which we both thought would look great in our dining room. I purchased a quarter-strip and we've had it hanging in the room for the last 2 weeks.

Yes, even the men got into it:

Lori walked out with a great pillow fabric, we snatched a few swatches for the dining room, and settled in for an evening of basketball.

Gotta love vacations...

See you tomorrow!

icj,

~j

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it's time

It's time for someone over the age of 17 to have more a clue about technology that those under. It's time that we remind them we created this junk. Or at least we tested it out through Napster (and Ocean's 11). 


As you may know, I work with teens and I'm married to a music-freak. Freak as in any song on the radio he knows. In tune. Every word. Even the deplorably written platinum fun Black Eyed Peas pieces. And yet, there came the day.


All of you already know about it, but those silly children-conceived-in-the-90's (sorry Linds) and  my lovely husband didn't. And this was even better than when I introduced them to Evite.com!


PANDORA.

If you haven't got yerself an account, do so. I am now an entertaining queen, and I can listen to work-appropriate music when at, well, work.

Recommended stations: Chris Thile, Madeleine Peyroux, Victoria Vox, Punch Brothers, Ingrid Michaelson, Kate Nash, and Edgar Meyer.

Have you opened up pandora?

icj,

~j

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i wish, i wish...

found at a life'sdesign 

It's the weekend. Time for frivolous things.


This is a big 2009-2010 transition for us. First married Christmas, first home-owning Christmas, first jointly-filed tax return, and I'm turning 30 later this winter (or would it be spring?). Hawk, alas, is not, though he looks older wink wink.


Hawk finally received his dream mandolin (or at least the younger, 5th-level version that both our families pitched in for):

the mandolinestore custom F5-G, 7th made of 10 

the gibson fern

When I tell our friends that we things like this pentax camera, 

or this Illustrator action , or this image action, 

or a one-year anniversary photo session with this photographer, 

or one-yard-bundles of this designer,  

or this designer:

All so we can recreate something like that first photo in our stairway wallways...

Happy Weekend!

icj,
~j

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a mandolin is not a man violin

I must say this because most people, upon hearing that Hawk plays the mandolin, think that this term is one of the many terms created by placing "man" as an adjective within a compound word (thanks, Miss Kostelny!)


I knew that living with a man for the first time (dads, of course, do not count) would offer its surprises. What I did not know is how good they would be. Well, most of them.


One such goodie is that this mandolin-playing man will serenade me constantly. While I cook, when I'm listening to other music, when I'm on the phone. No sarcasm here: I love it.


Here he is when I am cooking:

And here he is when I am reading:

Happy Friday!


icj
~j

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