hi everybody!  I did a fun homespun show on Saturday May 23rd on Facebook Live for Park City Institute (with help from lots of other great local folks, like Mountain Town Music and Randy Barton).  It's now posted to watch -- you'll see some great old favorites, a couple classic covers, and even a brand new song.   I'm hoping to make a tradition of kicking off the weekend with a few live songs for you all on Fridays, so let me know if you have any requests!  I'm including a tip jar here (right below this info) in case anyone's might be inclined to send a 'very special hello' after watching the show or with their song suggestions for future virtual concerts.  Thanks in advance, you lovely people!

Here's the link to watch the show:  https://www.facebook.com/parkcityinstitute/videos/1050343348693262/

I apologize to those who had a little trouble logging on...it seems to be a little tricky.  But we're all learning.  :)

Best wishes everyone and I hope you enjoy the show!

xoxox mb

It's a strange world out there.  And in here.  Would any of us have imagined -- even a few short months ago -- that we'd be wearing masks to the grocery store, overseeing all our kids' learning on home computers, waving to neighbors only from a safe distance, wiping down amazon boxes with disinfectant?  

The introvert in me was quietly giddy for the first few days...the order to stay home felt more in the benign nature of a blackout, or a snowstorm...an over-cautious  gesture, a relieving nullification of having to DO STUFF and GO PLACES and TALK TO PEOPLE.  I can be quite a hermit sometimes.  That was before the actuality of people growing very sick and dying became real and personal.  Then the news grew more pointed and more graphic and the snowday analogy felt shallow and crass.  

I found myself constantly scrolling through the news app.  What was I looking for?  What definitive article was going to quench the thirst for knowledge or assurance or an actual end date for this limbo?  

We settled in, mostly to keep the kids calm.  We played board games every night, which was good.  We, thankfully, had enough food and stuff in our hoarder-ish home to set us up for a while, but that is changing of course, four weeks in.  An EARTHQUAKE woke us early one morning, adding to the fun.  Yeah that happened. 

Politics somehow continued, snipes and jabs and sides and bullying and accusations and foolishness.  Is there truly NO situation that will bring out gravitas in some people?  Is there no situation that will inspire selflessness and relieve them of a bombastic, self-centered need to be praised and overcredited?  Apparently not.  Infuriatingly...not.  Even while the everyday people around us risk their lives to keep some continuity, some normality, in place, helping those who can try to get some work done, helping families get the supplies and food they need, and patients get the treatments desperately required -- it's the posturing, the blame, the deconstruction of essential structures that continues.  

Here at home, our hair grows long, our carb-dependent bellies a bit puffy, our energies low even though we're doing less than ever.  Shows we'd never gotten around to watching now punctuate our schedules with brief respites of laughter in the absurd (Schitt's Creek) and escapist drama (thank you, Ozark).  We frequently mention our gratitude for the internet.  Our seven-year-old figured out how to disable his ipad screentime limits, and to be honest, we're kind of fine with it.  

The introvert in me is now feeling a little overwhelmed by all the togetherness.  At the start of the stay home order, I think I may have imagined that I'd be writing songs and sharing livestream performances online and finishing up a big writing project that I've had going for a year now, but those things aren't happening.  Because I'm never alone.  And as I've discovered in the last decade, over and over -- for these things I need to be alone and uninterrupted.  I'm so grateful to be safe, to have my family around me, to be healthy, I TRULY AM, DEEPLY;   but there is barely a moment each day when people aren't with me, near me, asking me for food, talking to me, leaning up against me or laying on top of me (the little guy is a hugger :).  And so the part of me that fills itself up by being alone, that processes stuff, that musters up the good energy to spend and share with others... well, it's really struggling.  As I'm sure are the extrovert parts of those who need the presence and influx of new people interactions to keep their vibes up and healthy.  It's a process.  We'll find creative ways to figure it out.  

But we're fine.  I hope you and your families are fine and hanging in there too.  And I hope we all continue to support each other and help find a way though this while retaining the generosity and kindness that so many people are demonstrating, as they do, at the very hardest of times.  Let it bring out the strength and truth in us all.  

May you be well.  

xo mb

The happy-go-lucky unscheduled tumble of summer has started shifting to a crisp, autumn vibe.  Pumpkin spice and salted caramel mochas are back, it's chilly in the mornings, the kids are all about Halloween costumes and pumpkins, and the winding forest paths are carpeted with pinks and yellow-oranges and reds. It's always around this time that I pull out those weird clothing items that seem like a good idea for one minute but then never seem to settle into actual usage. . . sleeveless turtlenecks, wool shorts -- I'm lookin' at you. 

My summer was punctuated by opportunity and loss.  There were beautiful, memorable nights that I got to play with or open for wonderful acts like Chris Blue and The Wallflowers, and I did some writing that feels like it's going somewhere.  I helped book some terrific acts for wonderful stages here in Utah -- I found great satisfaction in helping to bring wonderful energetic young acts to bigger venues.  And then things took a turn.  

I lost my Dad early one morning at the end of July and found myself in Illinois for a lot of August in the sad aftermath.  I've just recently begun sleeping and eating with any regularity, helping me somewhat function in a world that keeps moving forward (even when I'm not).  So many dear friends and extended family members reached out to provide comfort, food, support, stories, and various other kindnesses to my family and me...we are all so grateful for your thoughtful gestures and strength.  Grief is horrible -- perhaps something that becomes a part of you forever -- but the love and generosity that has surfaced in its wake will resonate with me for a long time, too.  Thank you.  Thank you.

Some cool events coming up here in Utah and in Illinois and other good places.  I hope I'll be able to see you here or on the road.  The music and words continue to help me make sense of the unfathomable, the mysterious, the blessings -- thank you for sharing the journey with me.

xo mb

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