The Red Accordion Diaries

Showing posts with label Friends. Show all posts

“Beware of artists. They mix with all classes of society and are therefore most dangerous."— Queen Victoria
HOUSECOAT, people. It's amazing.
It makes me feel SO luxurious.
THANK YOU, friend who gifted it to me.

This is one of those quotes I've heard my whole life, but never understood until years after Brigid Kaelin LLC -- aka Brigid Kaelin the artist -- started paying the bills. Also, being a blogger, not a journalist, I only googled the quote and fact-checked it on GoodReads rather than an extensive and proper resource because my blog doesn't earn money. So I think it's Queen Victoria, but it might not be, but I'm not being paid to write this so I'm not fact-checking on a Saturday morning while I write.

ANYWAY: I understand the quote. 

I'm an artist. I grew up upper-lower class (posing as lower-middle class). I know a lot of other artists who don't/didn't have a lot, but I meet all kinds of people out at gigs. I often get hired to play very fancy parties. On set breaks I've spoken with Lords and Ladies and United Nations Ambassadors and royalty and literal billionaires -- with a B.  

Having spent the last 20 years as CEO of, ahem, Brigid Kaelin LLC, I have learned some things about the world that I initially found ridiculous, but apparently common:

Y'all, there is a whole world of unnecessaries out there. Here are a few that I've learned about in the past ten years:

chargers: essentially, these are plates that you can't eat off of 
housecoat: functions the same as a sweater, but operates like a robe that you wear over your clothes. ideally, it has pockets. (I recently received one, and it's the most luxurious thing I've ever owned and I'm never taking it off!)
tablecloths: people actually use these, not just at weddings apparently, but it's not good to get them dirty which is confusing. some people own more than one. It's like a housecoat for your table, I guess?
white t-shirts that men wear underneath their shirts: they need to remain so very brightly white, despite the fact that no one ever sees them
decorative candles: many people in this world own candles that are not merely for when the electricity gets cut off

Help me add to this list! What crazy/dangerous/amazing/life-changing things have you seen or learned about since you started mingling with other classes?

Get a kick out of my blog? Click here to, where I share exclusive content, like the first chapter of a book I wrote in 1999.

Greetings from Telluride, Colorado! Though I’ve been to many other mountain towns in this beautiful state, I’ve never been here before, though I’ve never visited Telluride. I’m here this weekend to be a part of and perform at the Original Thinkers Festival, the brainchild of David Holbrooke (formerly of MountainFilm). I’m beyond thrilled to be here, but the timing is particularly poignant for me, being less than a month after my mother died.

I haven’t grieved properly. I type that, and yet I know it’s wrong to say. There is no "normal" way to grieve, or rather, everything is normal, right? It comes in waves, it comes not at all, then it comes in a tidal wave of guilt because I hadn’t thought about it for a bit. I’ve got the rest of my life to grieve, however, so I’m trying to throw myself into my passions for the time being.

Travel is passion, and obviously so is music. So is meeting new people, talking big ideas, and trying to generally be a better person. Colorado seems to hold all of those things. No one looks at you strangely when you bring your own straw or bamboo cutlery set. The expectation is to walk rather than drive. Rather than get a plastic takeaway bag, you ask for a basket and promise you’ll bring it back. And you do. People use cloth napkins and they recycle -- as a norm, not as the weirdo on the block. Electric bikes, scooters, and, yes, a Tesla or two because it is a fancy part of Colorado after all, are not there for bragging rights, but because it’s a way to do our part.

I like it here.

Last night I flew into the wee Telluride airport on an 8-seater prop plane. I used the barf bag. I felt like hell. Then I walked out and was picked up and chauffeured to my housing in a brand new Tesla Model X (the kind with the Delorean doors!). I chugged a few glasses of water and continued to feel like death until my hosts force fed me a bowl of rice after which I perked up enough to get excited about punctuation.

I then followed orders to drink a few glasses of water and go to bed -- and despite waking up thrice in the night to pee, I felt great when I woke up. Refreshed and ready to walk three dogs in the mountains.

I’m finishing up this blog after an evening at a hideaway fancy restaurant somewhere you can only access by either skis or the Knight Bus (I took the Knight Bus). There was a bluegrass band playing when I got off the shuttle, and several servers holding trays of wine. I immediately felt guilty that I wasn’t in the band -- that I was instead part of the mysterious Beautiful People Whose Event Required Live Music. I clapped at awkward moments for the band, while over sharing to a new friend about my parents’ cancers. I met new people. I enjoyed the mountain sunset, and I talked to so many interesting people.

As a matter of endorsement, might I also recommend a Woodford Reserve Manhattan at 10,400 ft? It’s more potent than you would imagine. On that note and on a delicious dinner (where vegetarians were not ignored), I sign off. I rode the gondola back to Telluride alone, soaking up the darkness, and walked from the gondola to my crash pad off the Main Street in Telluride. At the last moment, I thought maybe I should turn my phone light off to scare away the bears (there had been a bear sighting this morning). Just as I turned it on, the motion-detector light of the garage came on anyway.

Goodnight, friends. I see why you like the mountains now.

Update on life with an au pair. It's fantastic, and after having joined a Facebook group for host families, I am now well-aware that there are terrible au pairs out there who make their families' lives more difficult. To be fair, I've also noticed there are terrible host families who are demanding and unappreciative and who clearly have a Hobbesian view of life, assuming that their au pair must "earn their trust" before being granted privileges, like, a curfew beyond 11pm or, say, not being watched on a nanny-cam the entire time.

Maybe I'm too trusting, but I think we just matched perfectly with a mature and wise woman who is full of love and common sense and just the right amount of anxiety to make me feel at east when she's got the kids. Like, I have started running upstairs to use the bathroom alone on occasion -- but she would never dare leave them unattended.

The biggest reason we went the au pair route is because regular childcare -- or even a full-time nanny -- would not work for my challenging and ever-changing work schedule. It's too unpredictable, and with David's travel schedule (he travels 80% of the week), it was no good and also a little lonely being the only adult in the house.

It's also great for last-minute surprises. This morning, for example, when he was at the airport at 6am and realized he forgot something, he called (and bless *aupair for answering her phone because I was zonked out and didn't hear mine) and I was able to run out to the airport without dragging the kids along with me.

Other bonuses to #aupairlife:

My 2-year-old occasionally counts his Hot Wheels in Portuguese.
She loves to bake, so sometimes there is surprise cake!
We are looooooving rice and beans in a way we never did before.
David and I had date nights twice this weekend (we don't always schedule her on weekends, but D and I hadn't seen each other in ages because I've had so many weekend gigs), and we didn't have to explain bedtime routines or what the day had been like and why G was so tired. We just walked out of the house!
We've had incredible cultural exchange conversations that have led to smart and eye-opening chats about feminism and country differences. I love creating this normal for my kids.
There is always someone to hug.
There is always someone to remind me to relax and appreciate my amazing children.
There is always someone to remind me that I don't have to do everything.

Here's a link to our au pair agency. (If you sign up and host, we both get a wee discount. If the registration fee isn't waived for you, email me, and I'll send the code.)

I'm working on an entire blog to explain exactly what an au pair is and what she can and cannot do -- there are restrictions to keep both au pairs and families on the same page and both treated humanely. It's hard to explain, but I'm loving it!

*I still haven't come up with a good code name for her, so I don't blow her google-ability privacy to the world. Oops. (She has said photos are okay.)

Brigid Kaelin, Steve Cooley & THE BLACK FEATHERS

There’s a mystery series I love called Agatha Raisin by MC Beaton. They are quick reads with nothing terribly scary, and they are set in a fictional village in the Cotswolds. As Steve and I played in a played in Cirencester (a Cotswolds town - well, city, not village), I liked to pretend I’m a private detective. It was particularly fun driving through these village towns and trying to imagine which one is most like the fictional village of Carsley (I’m thinking it’s Barnsley).

Cirencester seems off the beaten track to many English folk we encounter, but I first went there in 2008 when I met a friend on Couchsurfing (remember Couchsurfing?!). He’s continued to be a friend, though he has since moved to Bristol (it’s Neil, from my first tour blog!) and I continue to go to Cirencester, about an hour from Bristol, whenever I can.

After an attempt at visiting the ruins of a Roman villa (it was CLOSED for winter when we arrived and the caretaker said, “don’t tell me — you looked on Google and it said we were open” — um YES?! If this happens all the time, perhaps you should change your hours on Google?), we headed for the venue.

We played in a pub called the Golden Farm, which has a perfect music venue attached to it. The building is 15th century, with a “new" addition built in the 17th or 18th century. The Vaults is the music venue, and WOW, what a room. The sound was fantastic, and our hosts for the evening were delightful — as they always are.

The Black Feathers, whom some of you have actually MET when I hosted a house concert for them in Louisville last fall, are Ray and Sían and they are just the nicest and smartest and most talented people you could ever come across. They live above the pub, and we stayed with them. I was in the attic/music studio and stared at rafters from the 1400s as I drifted off to sleep.

In the afternoon, Ray and Sían took me for a quick tour around town to see winding cobblestone streets, old churches, and the tallest hedge yews in Europe.

Our friends, The Layers, opened the show for us at the Vaults, and we got to hear some rocking’ 3-part acoustic harmonies and excellent original tunes. Thank you for sharing your gifts, The Layers, and thank you to all in Cirencester who ventured out on a Tuesday evening to hear live Kentucky music.

LEGO recreation inside St. John's in Cirencester.

TOUR DOGGIE!

Delicious feast prepared by Sían during soundcheck.

Aneil! He came all the way from Wolverhampton.
Thank you, Aneil!

The Layers

Adorable street in Cirencester

In the Cotswolds, they have hares (like
Kentucky has horses and Chicago cows).

I just LOVE a good rock and roll show, especially a band that knows how to integrate a real piano player. That Steve Nieve is magical, and I got a verrrrrrrrrrrry close-up seat to watch him play last night in Kettering, Ohio, at the Fraze Pavilion. It was such a good night -- well worth the awful traffic in Cincinnati.

I try to be cool about this and not go on about it, especially because I value Elvis Costello as an artist and mentor -- particularly his wisdom when it comes to balancing musician-life with motherhood. He was the first person to tell me (aside from my husband) there was absolutely nothing wrong with hiring a babysitter just so I could play the piano -- that even though at that moment it meant the babysitter earns more than I do, that it feeds my creative soul, which is more valuable than any career I'd have.

We caught up on his tour bus yesterday for about 45 minutes. He'd graciously left backstage passes for me and my guitarist/bassist/friend Dennis and his lovely wife Nancy after I let him know that we had tickets to the show. He made me a cup of tea -- I still can't believe I accepted because he was at work and had a show to do, but he offered multiple times and a cuppa did sound relaxing. We talked about our mums, our kids, our travels. He gave me an LP, signed it "Congratulations" after I told him that I had another baby since I last saw him -- and he spelled my name correctly without even having to ask. Why isn't everyone in the music business so genuine?

Also, I gave him my new record (and signed it, ha!), and I told him that track 4 "The Jester" was inspired by Steve Nieve, which then made me really nervous and I am hoping that Steve likes the song even just a little. It's been a while since I wrote it, so I'm not sure how it comes across -- but it's meant in love and is about meeting my keyboard hero.

So if you're reading this, Steve, please let me buy you a glass of wine in Paris someday. Also, I loved that shirt you wore and your shoe game is on-point. But you already know that.

Please come to my Headliners CD Release party!! Friday, July 28. Doors at 7. Opener at 8. I play at 9 or 9:15. Full band. $10. Email me if you want to venmo/paypal/square me money to pre-order your tickets and maybe can even save you a seat. We are planning on having lots more chairs than usual, so don't let your old idea of the venue scare you away -- i like to sit at Headliners, myself :) If you can't come, could you please share the event??? I'm starting to freak out and have those nightmares that the room will be empty. Eek.

HEY IT'S MONDAY, AND THAT DEFINITELY WASN'T DECAF!! Also, I went to yoga this morning, and did about 75% of what the teacher requested we do. I can't do 100% because of my weird back-issues ever since my first pregnancy, and also because I am stubborn and even in yoga, YOU CAN'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO! No, but seriously, it was a lovely yoga class.

The only part I can't stand is when you get off your mat in the beginning and go introduce yourself to a stranger. That gives me insane anxiety. For some reason it's only when I'm in the studio, mat rolled out and getting in the zone. Introductions before or after, small-talk while putting my shoes in a cubby or rolling up my mat -- that's fine, and I actually like the community aspect of the yoga studio. I've made lots of new friends. But I really dislike making a new friend while I'm trying to get in the no-one-is-touching-me-for-75-minutes mood. Because that's my favorite thing about yoga: being alone for an hour. No one is grabbing my nipples or telling me they are hungry. It's pretty much magic.

My PledgeMusic campaign is going really well. I'm planning on closing the project in a few days and mailing out all the pre-orders next week (assuming I hit my 100% goal!), so if you'd like to receive your copy of my new CD this week instead of having to wait until Headliners on July 28, then please get your pledge in today. Seriously -- it's a huge relief to get the production-funding out of the way, particularly on an indie-artist who does EVERYTHING herself. The other benefit to pledging -- even if it's just a download because you sold your CD collection to Better Days last summer -- is that you get to see behind-the-scenes updates on how an indie-artist like me does it. This morning I posted a behind-the-scenes video of me packing and going to radio interview.

Last week's alone time was a visit to the DryBar Louisville, where my friend Carrie talked me into getting a blowout on a random rainy Friday afternoon. We sipped champagne (BYOB), niblled croissants, and again -- no one grabbed our nipples or asked for a snack. It was fab.

This morning I was on my way to a La Leche League meeting -- a feat because a) I actually remembered and b) I had transportation and c) did not have to work -- when I had a bout of small group anxiety and instead pulled over to sit at my favorite coffee shop and write anonymously while the baby took a nap.

How weird is it that I can sing and chat in front of thousands of people (and that one time knowing that literally millions of others were listening in radioland) without a single stitch in my tummy, but the thought of sitting in a small circle with a handful of other women absolutely terrifies me to the point that I can't go?

A few months ago I managed to arranged childcare and attend a Book Club meeting. I've been on the email group of this Book Club for years. It's full of smart women, several of whom I know already, but most of whom I only know from Twitter or other internet-y things.

I tried to snag a seat in a corner against a wall as everyone was moving from the cocktail portion of the evening to the sit-around-and-talk bit. The circle kept changing, and I kept having to move, until suddenly I was almost front and center. I tried to laugh off my anxiety, which seemed to annoy the hostess and only made me want to crawl into an even deeper corner.

We went around the circle and had to introduce ourselves and say "one interesting thing about ourselves" and I completely froze and the lovely Tara had to nudge me and whisper, "Tell them you play the saw," and I stuttered and forgot how to conjugate verbs and my face flushed and heart sped and then after introductions and only one or two comments into the actual book discussion, I walked home.

I somehow tought I might be okay at the LLL meeting. I don't actually have any breastfeeding questions. Dr. Google has been pretty helpful on that front. But I felt like I needed to attempt some socialization and perhaps some small group therapy.

Instead I'm in a corner writing and enjoying a breakfast crepe with a small mocha because that is basically the mental equivalent of a spa day. I swear, I really used to be so well-adjusted.

Baby is up from his regularly scheduled 28-minute nap, so there goes my crepe,