THIS HOUSE IS HAUNTED

 I've been thinking a lot lately about what it means to be haunted.  Not necessarily in the supernatural way, but more in the way that we encounter our past, near and far, in the traffic of our daily lives.  And how the remnants of days and realities and identities of the past can hover like a stuffed sheet, waiting around every corner to jump out with a big, old fashioned boooooooooooo.   This past year has kicked my ass in so many ways.  In fact, in true 2014 fashion, I even started a post full of jokes about ways in which I can totally tell my ass is being handed to me, like the ways I find myself trying to multitask while using the potty.  Seriously, one time I found myself trying to simultaneously scarf down my dinner while I sat on the can and I was like:  This is a breaking point. Anyway, like so many things in the past year, that particular post didn't happen but here I am again, long overdue yet showing up none the less.  Hopefully that counts for something.

My kids went on a walk tonight with my husband and brought me back this?!?

Then once in a while I get inspired, like this week, which really got the haunting thing going for me.  I am now completely, totally, and officially obsessed with the Austin-based Shakey Graves.  It was a slow fall, but after hearing multiple tracks from him/them, all of which totally drew me in, I heard this little numero which is certainly worth the $1 download from Band Camp:

Dearly Departed by Shakey Graves, off the album When the War Came

 

The idea of being a ghost in my own house, or living with the ghost of someone who once was, really resonated with me.  I feel like I'm working hard to accept that "Duh" moment of realizing that of course our life is not like it was before the birth of our second child because that was before, and now here we are.  And our life with one child was not like our life before kids, and before we were married, and so on and so forth.  You get the idea.  S*** changes.  We have to deal. 

But is doesn't stop me from moments of deep nostalgia as I struggle to chart my course in this new normal.  Often it's with my self, but sometimes also with my job, partner or friends.  Maybe that's why I have such a hankering to leave our house right now (that and the reality that there are only so many people you can fit in 750 square feet).  It would be easier not to have all these reminders of life as I knew it while still in the process of leaving my old self, only to be constantly reminded that I'm not quite the new self I need and hope to embody.  Welcome to mid-life, people.  Is it always this way? 

Anyway, that's where I am today.  More tomorrow, with costumes.  And lots more soon.  I have a number of half-baked posts that WILL be up before the end of the year, and that much and more on my mind.  It's been too long.  Thanks for staying posted. 

And in a true mid-life moment, while I was on-line stalking Shakey Graves I was like, oh, his mom is a playwright from Austin, TX.  I wonder if....WAIT, I know her!  And by know I mean met one time.  But still.  I don't know what was more hilarious:  My excitement over making the connection or the reality that I was feeling oh-so-extra cool because I know (read: met once) a rockstar's Mom.  

Now that's old. 

But for the record, she is one bad ass lady.  And I'd be remiss as a mother if I didn't give her mucho credit for passing on the bad assedness to her son, and in so doing, lighting up this mama's week.  I'll leave you with a feast for the senses.  Mr, Shakey Graves himself (and the lovely Esme Patterson) singing a pared down version of Dearly Departed during last spring's SXSW.  Please, Mr. Graves, continue to make my day, again and again.  You and your mom.