Buster T. Pumpkinhead Records

Where are you?

2009-09-04T11:28:00.001-07:00

Okay, I know I've mentioned it before, but my SEWING LIFE is currently eclipsing my SINGING LIFE. (Don't judge me, Bill. ) I know this makes me sound evern dorkier than I have before. Which is quite a feat, of course. But I'm having a great time. So if you're looking for me, check over here. I'll be back posting about songs of one of these days soon. I mean, Lucy's only a year or so from preschool, and it will all happen again . . .

In the meantime, if you're looking for really really good music, go over to Lunch Money. I'm forever standing on my dining room table with a lighter in my hand when I hear their music. And you can't go wrong with Frances England either. She's good people with good music. If you're absolutely CONFUSED by where to start, then head to Spare the Rock because Bill is the Godfather of Good Times.

And come say hi over at the dog some time.

Tune Tidy.

2009-06-16T07:47:00.001-07:00

Okay--it's time to share a truly tested idea that works at our house for getting everybody to pitch in with the pick up. We do "tune tidy"--I made that up. A little dorky, but it's working. We play a song we love (ours is The Gap Band's "You Dropped A Bomb on Me") and then run around the house putting things away for the duration of the song.

The game is that you're not ALLOWED to do any more pick up after the song ends. So we (the boys and me) can pick up all our front rooms in about 3 1/2 minutes.

There you have it: song-ish housecleaning wisdom from a woman who no longer has to say annoying mom-ish things like, "You know, if we're all going to be in this family, then we really should pitch in with the work that has . . . ."

Now I just say TUNE TIDY! put on the song and we all start running.

The Song I Won't Be Covering in Celebration of My Daughter's First Birthday.

2009-04-27T15:16:00.000-07:00

"Here's Your One Chance, Fancy, Don't Let Me Down," by Reba (coulda sworn it was Dolly) herself.

Chords and lyrics here for a good time.

Also, this:

Do you miss me?

2009-03-25T20:50:00.000-07:00

It's myoootch.

Here's the thing: if you want to see what I'm doing these days, head on over here, to my OTHER blog, Wiener Dog Tricks. (I know: please don't be all "of course she has two blogs--because why wouldn't a woman with three children and a job also have two blogs?") It's because all this blogging makes me crazy happy.

I set up Wiener Dog Tricks because I realized that I was working on all sorts of stuff outside of music that I wanted to write about. This other blog, let's just say, covers all my other stuff-making bases.

I'll be back here sometimes too. I haven't stopped writing songs. (Sometimes it's like being kid song possessed, actually, but that's the sort of information I'll save for my therapist.) One of these days I'll share the next batch. In the meantime, I'm sewing, thrifting, gardening, baking and being hallucenatingly domestic in my own crabby way.

See you over there. Wave when you come.

The thing about DIZZY

2009-02-06T14:59:00.000-08:00

Okay, I know I'm late to the party. I'm totally the girl who was supposed to bring the appetizer who comes as you're cutting the cake. I'm that girl. But just because I'm late doesn't mean I want to miss the party.

I'm just going to be one of the many others who have already yelled "Ooooh! Ooooh! Pick me!" Horshack-style to answer the question, "WHAT DO YOU LIKE ABOUT THE NEW LUNCH MONEY ALBUM?"

There's a lot I like about it. Here's a beginning list:

1. Molly always sounds like she's just about to laugh when she sings. And I think that almost-laughing-singer-voice is the best kind to have. Seems particularly terrific to have when you're singing the background (or foregound) to a little kid's everyday life.

2. The lyrics are really good. And I mean that in this way. But also I just mean they're funny. And really good lyrics are the best part of a really good song (for me, I mean, of course, because I already know some people think it's about the music more. Whatever. Lyrics Rule.) Please tell me you can come up with a better line than babaganoosh in a kid song. Right. I didn't think so.

3. It's a family project. And that just gets a big fat high five from everybody here at the Hendrix house. Yes, it would be better if Molly and Jay adopted J.P., but we are big believers in Chosen Family and so can settle for this minor discrepancy and still consider it a family-made album.

4. I keep wanting to push play again after it's over.

Well, now I'm gushing. And I didn't even tell you that "Tiny Dinosaurs" is my favorite song.

p.s. Here's the link to the get the album since I know you want to buy it now that I said all that.
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Singin' It

2008-05-17T10:33:00.000-07:00

When I think about my son leaving for college, I imagine setting up a stage in front of his brick (apparently, he’s going ivy league) dorm hall—three mics for well-dressed back-up singers, some guy with sunglasses on synthesizers, a not-too-mean-looking drummer and me on the front mic. Everybody else—all those other college students and their parents—will be walking back and forth lugging boxes and ugly futon sofas and those Pier 1 chairs that take up too much room.

And I will be singing a KC & the Sunshine Band song: “Please Don’t Go”

It would be the very best-ever way to celebrate a passing and commemorate my own sadness without being grotesquely morose. I could wear a tight-fitting dress and a big wig and sing it all like I mean it even more than I do. I could jive my neck and belt out “Babe, I love you so—I want you to know. . . that I’m going to miss your love the minute you walk out that door: so please don’t go . . don’t go—don’t go away . . . Hey hey hey.”

If my son doesn’t go for this option—his standing in the grass with his foot up on a box, shaking his head a little and rolling his eyes maybe—but not in a disgusted sort of way, more in a “she’s always like that, but I love her” sort of way. If he doesn’t let his head bob a little while I’m singing and doing Diana Ross and the Supremes hand motions. If he doesn’t sway a little with his little brother (who will be thinking at that moment about which song Ill choose when he leaves for college the next year) If he doesn’t grab his little sister—an 11-yr-old by then—and high five her or throw her on his back or sing into his thumb with her.

If he sees me and pretends to be taking boxes out of some other family’s car. If he does then what he does now when I fall into emotion-balancing goofiness: stamps his foot, yells “Maaaaawm” with that growl that comes with the middle vowel sound. If his father shoots me that little look he does now—knowing, smirky, kind—when I miss the mark in an emotional moment.

If the band stops playing and we don’t get much past that tricky little hi-hat intro, never get to the psychedelic background work, never utter a head-swirling ”hey, hey, hey”

And nobody ever joins in with us—there are not other mothers working out moves together on the grass by the second verse, no fathers looking on and laughing or air-synthesizering. If I never get to the talking part at the end—the unsung pleading with the fade-out . . .

Well then, I’ll be sad. And only sad.

There will be no moment to offer up my sadness as a gift—as a celebration of having something worth being sad about: that we will have all loved being a family together for the years that we were all here on the planet at the same time—especially those ten where everybody was born and we were five working out life together in one house.

And I’ll carry that unsung sadness with me. And I wonder who I’ll be if it stays inside of me.

I hope he lets me sing.

Lucy Rae Hendrix

2008-04-13T17:09:00.000-07:00

Well, friends, she's here! Our little Lucy has arrived--just two weeks old now and we're still not finished staring at her . . . when the Dr. said, "It's a girl!" I said, "It's a WHAT?" I was completely ready to continue this all-boy adventure and--even though we didn't find out before--I somehow felt sure we were staying on that road.

Apparently not! And this one's a sweet cutie. Sleeps a lot (I've always liked that in a newborn) and is generally agreeable. Sometimes even crosses her eyes, which I find very creepy and entertaining.

So there's our news.

Some of the best of it all has been sharing it with our guys--and the sing-a-longs have been my personal favorite moments. They've been a little OVER singing with me in the last year (no news flash there--how many times can a boy sing about pasta?) So hearing their little boy voices belt out SKIP TO MY LOU for their sister has been a small (almost teary--give me a break, I've still got lots of extra hormones) joy.

We're all glad she's here. (And she's got really long fingers, so now we've got our KEYBOARDIST for the band. Score.)

Lovely Inspiration

2008-01-02T15:59:00.000-08:00

Inspired by my good friend who writes about kids' music to write about whatever-in-the-blasted-universe she wants to, I'm finally writing my recent thoughts--which have nothing whatever to do with kids music. Or my kids. Or even just music.

(Plus, there's nothing like moving to make you do things like blog instead of packing.)

I've found myself lately on this path I didn't know I was on--the kind where one book you read leads you to another and then another and you end up deep into a forest of some topic you didn't really make some master plan to explore.

It started with a novel by Wendell Berry--slow-moving, incredibly readable, beautifully prosed (and with none of the guaranteed unsettled scenes of my favorite tv host's book club choices). I started with Hannah Coulter, one of the Port Williams novels, and got so into it that I kept reading more of Berry's Port Williams books: Jayber Crow, A Place in Time . . . as many of them as I could get to dig in deeper with all the shared characters. They're all farm books--lovely character-focussed reflections on changing farm life over the last 50 years. Not at all connected to my world--I live on the coast and tend to kill even house plants.

Then a friend recommended Michael Polan's The Omnivore's Dilemma--a farm book, but non-fiction. All about where our food comes from (without too many harrowing details about how crammed together the chickens are). Lots of thoughts about organic food (which I can never decide whether to afford) and farmers again, of course. More farmers. I couldn't put it down--and it poses these really challenging questions about the choices we make as consumers without ever offering any answers, which is annoying and freeing all at the same time.

When I put that one down another friend recommended Barbara Kingsolver's Animal, Vegetable, Miracle. And that's where I am now--and it's a super-enjoyably-readable walk through one family's resolve to eat only what they could grow themselves or buy within 100 miles. More farmers.

And now I'm seriously considering having a garden of my own. I look at food in the grocery store differently because of these books. I live in California, but I'm actually considering paying attention to the seasons of food.

It's funny how books can take you somewhere you didn't plan on going. Even more hysterical, of course, that I've done most of this organic food reading while eating a daily intake of Taco Bell.

Here's to unplanned trips.

And Happy New Year, friends.

Apparently They Need More Television

2007-11-27T20:21:00.002-08:00

My sons just wrote their letters to Santa.

My seven year old asked for an "elf friend" (Him: I bet they're all sweaty from working hard and they could come here and not work. Me: Where would they sleep? Him: In my sleeping bag.).

My five-and-a-half year old asked for "a talking dog that wears a hat." (Dad: Who's going to pick up the poop? Him: It won't poop.)

Apparently I'll spend our breakfast time together trying to explain to them that Santa doesn't give "live" gifts. If that doesn't work, well, then . . . I'm going to plot them in front of Nick so they'll beg me for something I can drive somewhere and buy. That's my plan. Yeah, that's it--that's my plan.

I miss the good old television-induced materialism that marked my youth.

Merlin, anyone?

Confessions of a Candy-Eating Pregnant Woman

2007-11-14T16:14:00.000-08:00

1. I've eaten easily 40 - 50 halloween-sized candybars in the last 3 weeks. (I actually said, "NO! DON'T GIVE AWAY THE TWIX!" to my son who was handing out the candy on Halloween night.)

2. I'm, um, pregnant--for real! The Hendrix family is adding baby number 3 this spring. A super joyous decision to end up with a bigger band within 10 years.

3. I think my baby might come out with a Taco Bell wrapper around its head also.

4. I'm missing my blogger friends.

Thinking of you all,

--ginger.

Can I Embroider This On a Pillow?

2007-10-25T17:59:00.000-07:00

We were getting ready for soccer. My husband really said this to our 7-yr old:

"Son, getting ahead in life means wearing underwear."

I feel as though the world should know our complex value system here at the Hendrix house.

Thank the Good Lord We Have a Roadie

2007-09-15T17:37:00.000-07:00

Okay, we don't really pay her or anything, but she's really terrific and does stuff like takes pictures of us. Thought I'd put these photos up so you could all see me in action with Daddy Pete and the Big Bass Bandalone.

(At this gig, we were introduced as "Please welcome THE HENDRIXES: GINGER AND DADDY" I don't know . . . somehow it didn't quite translate . . .)

Anyway, here's proof that we do this together and have a good time:

Thanks, Sunshine--you're the very best Band Photographer and Coke-Getter and General Cheerleader ever! She even supplied these two kids to lead the songs . . .

Happy singing, everyone.

Soccer & A Gig

2007-09-08T16:56:00.001-07:00

Today was the first real day of soccer--you know, the whole sit-in-the-sun-and-watch-your-kids-run-into-other-kids for two hours sort of day. Here's the proof of why it's worth it:

Exhibit A:

Exhibit B:

We also closed out the summer season with our last gig--we sang in downtown San Luis Obispo at the old Mission amphitheatre. Very fun. It's a place I used to go to as a kid, so a hoot in that way.

And now it's time to hunker down and work on this next CD. You'll hear from me occasionally, but if you wonder where I am, I'm writing and working out songs with Pete (who will be a true partner on this next CD).

Here's a little sneak preview of the working titles of what we're working on:

1. My Daddy Thinks I'm Great
2. But I Like You ("I don't like stale croissants, cold ocean water or pants that fit too tight; I don't like grape jelly, shitake mushrooms, red apples or mime . . . but I like you . . .)
3. We Know Where Everything Goes
4. Girl Next Door
5. Sniff

There you have it. I didn't want you to think we were just sitting around over here.

First Day of School

2007-08-28T10:39:00.001-07:00

Well, here they are: the Hendrix Boys on the first day of school. Kindergarten for Theo and First Grade for Will.

What I've Done Instead of Writing Songs

2007-08-05T16:39:00.001-07:00

Yeah--I know. I'm not posting this summer. See below for extended angst-ridden/child-rearing reasons why.

But here's the stuff I've been doing instead of writing songs. . .

CAMPING. We've taken two super fun trips. One to Lodgepole (in the Sequoias--gorgeous, super-big trees and lots of cheeky chipmunks):

And one to Yosemite. We headed for Bridalveil Creek campground up above the valley floor (where all the tourists are) and saw more big trees and squirrels the size of dogs (well, that was when we drove down to the valley floor) . . . We're shooting to squeeze two more camping trips into the picture before school starts up again. Good times. It will be especially fun when our new tent arrives tomorrow and we no longer have to safety-pin our tent shut.

And don't forget PRE-CAMPING (which is stuff like roaming thrift stores for plastic pancake flippers and Camp n Pack for a new axe) and POST-CAMPING (which is mostly just 45 loads of laundry).

SINGING IN A WEDDING. Man, I thought I practed a lot for shows. How about a wedding? You just don't want to be the wedding singer lady that everyone is going "Oh--wow--it's too bad they had to have a relative sing . . . " so I practiced my guts out. And it was worth it. A beautiful song and no one groaned.

SWIMMING LESSONS. Um, the boys, not me.

GENERAL SUMMERTIME HOOPLA. This category is for things like going to the library, driving to Target, swimming at the community pool, watching movies, playing video games, thrift shopping--you know . . . hoopla. The sort you drive around for. This sounds fun and sometimes looks like this:

. . . and other times looks like this:

So, while I thought I'd be writing songs, I've been doing this stuff instead. It's not what I expected, but it hasn't been half bad. I broke out the board shorts and bikini at the beginning of the summer and don't think I've really combed my hair since June.

Anyway, I hope your summer is bringing you the unexpected too. And if you want to sing, come and sing with us at our next two shows:

Thursday, August 23rd at the Cayucos Library (11 am) and Saturday, September 8th (2 pm) at the Mission Plaza in SLO-click here for the deets.

About summer and how cold it is.

2007-07-13T08:36:00.000-07:00

Well, we played in Cayucos and then two shows in Paso Robles all for great kids and parents. And then we went camping.

Somehow that whole "summer" thing made me think that since I'm not teaching I'd be able to spit out scads of songs to share--I did, however, not seem to account for the whole "your kids are also not in school, Dear" factor. So we're having a fun summer together, but I'm really hurting for time to work. . .

And then there is the thing of wanting ENOUGH time to do REAL work. My chances to dive into my creative life seems to come in these strange 29 minute increments and I have this constant longing for something like 7 straight hours.

And, of course, it's about BALANCE. Which is an annoying thing to say since even Plato (or somebody old wearing a sheet) already said it. But I mean it in a "not too much sacrifice / not too much much sacrifice" sort of way Sometimes I feel as thought I'm not leaning toward as much as I'm leaning away--I am veering away from the inner deadness that comes when I don't point myself toward my creative life, and then I look over after a while and see that wild-eyed look my children get when I've been physically present but otherwise absent for too long and then I veer back away from the desk and throw myself over there. It's a little whiplashy.

And, I realized too, I've needed a PLACE to work. I was feel all agitate-y and crabbed out and finally my husband had the wherewithal to say something sweet like "Honey, um, what's wrong with you?" And after some flipping about, I realized that I don't have a spot in our house to deem WORKING SPACE and while I'd love for my house to be lovely, my sanity seems more crucial.

So I made one. And it's smack in the middle of my living room. And it's not super cute or anything, but it's a place. And I'm writing here to celebrate it. And even to say something more Streisand-like in the level of drama that I feel about it: I'm celebrating commitment and perseverance for my creative life.

I have been convinced for a good while now that the people who get to live out their creative lives--really live them--pull it off because they decide to. It's not really because they're popular or published or recorded or rich--it's because they decide to. Like those really cold people who are at the top of mountains and about to freeze themselves to sleep but decide to walk out instead.

And this desk in the middle of my living room is my walk out of the cold.

And there's more to say here--about going this creative life with kids; about doing even creative work FOR kids WITH kids--lots more thoughts. More later. My 29 minutes are up.

I Never Actually Saw Enzo Eat Breakfast

2007-06-27T17:43:00.000-07:00

I'm just saying--he probably DID eat breakfast, but we never actually saw it.

He DID, however, play some super nifty instruments--Pete just kept STARING while Enzo played the accordion because he had serious Accordion Envy and would love to play like that. The thing I loved about watching Enzo was that he works at the just-right pace of his little-kiddie crowd. He wasn't afraid to be quiet here and there and sing softly and pause a bit--and he had a room full of mesmerized pre-kids. It was a great sight. We were glad to have the chance to join in. Frances England will be joining him this Saturday. If you're in the SF locale, get yourself over there. Really.

And now Pete and I are both a regular couple of Dorothies--there's no place to play like HOME. We head 5 miles north to Cayucos on Saturday and that will be all fun. No worries. Just a big barn full of people who we mostly know and who mostly know our songs and are mostly still loving to sing them (a phenomenon that I never stop being grateful for).

We pulled out the recording junk last night and started fiddling with it all in the living room after the kids went to sleep. I think the first post will be a little lullaby-ish love song called "I Love You Every Day." If I've figured out anything from this music (ad)venture, it's that everything takes about 7 times as long as I want it to. But you just don't want to be the girl saying, "HUSH---MOMMY'S TRYING TO MAKE SOME KIDS MUSIC!!!!!"

So I'll put that song up as soon as I can manage it without being crabby about it. And then you'll all like it better--knowing that I was friendly and all.

I'm glad for summertime. It's the air and the park and the pool and the puzzles and the toys and the friends. All good times.

We get to eat breakfast with Enzo.

2007-06-14T19:51:00.000-07:00

Hey--we're heading up to San Francisco next weekend--Saturday, June 23rd--for a nifty chance: we're special guests for BREAKFAST WITH ENZO, a terrific every-Saturday musical hoopla that he puts together for the lucky kids of California's best city.

If you're in the top half of California, come on over--Enzo offers two sets on Saturday mornings: 10 am & 11 am. It's all B.Y.O.B. (Bring your own breakfast). Details about the where and the how-to-get-there here.

Wait--I'm Not Finished Not Being Finished Being Inspired

2007-06-05T13:38:00.001-07:00

I posted a week or so ago about my big Jonathon-Coulton-inspired dreams for putting up my songs as I record them at home so that we can all at least be singing in the car together (that's me and you--not the royal "we"). But getting my home studio together has been a bigger task than I guessed.

I've got: Garage Band; fancy usb-ported Pre Amp; mic; mic stand; pick-up-ready guitar. I'm set, right? Wrong. I didn't have that THINGY that connects the mic-holder to the mic stand.

RIGHT.

So here's the big news: I went and got the Thingy from my buddy Ed at Central Coast music, so now there's real hope for getting these songs down.

That's my update. More to come. . . . some time after I find the disc with the driver software that I've misplaced somewhere . . .

Reading Cookbooks

2007-05-31T13:37:00.000-07:00

In an effort to avoid writing--which, as a writer by trade, hobby and temperament, is my prerogative a good part of the time--I have been reading cookbooks lately. I'm also waiting on the set up of my little home studio and have had to do something to keep myself busy while I obsess over having to wait so long to work on recording my songs.

You can't imagine the meal I made last night: sweet chili-crusted pork tenderloin with homemade mango salsa. Come on. It was delicious.

If you're killing time or maybe just putting off doing what you're meant to do, take a look at Pam Anderson's (um, yes, unfortunate name for a cookbook author who's trying hard not to be imagind by readers in a bikini) How to Cook Without a Book and CookSmart. I'm telling you, they've been absolutely wonderful. They read like novels and take away the mystery of adding flame to meat (something I've always been stumped by.)

I'll let you know when we're back to frozen pizzas and more new songs.

I'm Not Finished Being Inspired

2007-05-21T12:48:00.000-07:00

I'm not finished chewing on what I read last week in this NYT article about Jonathon Coulton. And then today I found this--Coulton's own play-by-play of his accidental (well, not really accidental--just not exactly perfectly planned out) rise to success. He figured out a way to dump his software job (always a good idea) and dive full on into songwriting. And playing. And troubadouring. (A very good life choice in my opinion.)

And I love his honesty that he didn’t have some Dr. Evilish Master Plan that deployed him right over to where he is now.

Here’s the part I’m still thinking about: he makes a terrific case for releasing music for free. And the reason that I'm still chewing on this and thinking about actually doing something about it is because I've been bothered by the idea of selling my own music for a long time. WAIT! I know what you're going to say. Yes, an artist has a right to sell what they make. It's real. It's worth something. And yes we assign dollar amounts to things in our culture to deem them legit. And (not at all a small detail)—how else am I going to fund my next project unless I sell some of these CDs I’ve got? I financed my first project with money from my dear mother-in-law. That money’s not around now for the next one, so I’ve got to make it back with sales if I want to do the next project—and I really want to do the next project. This is all legit. Selling the music, I mean, is legit.

Here's the rub, though: I couldn't have afforded to buy what I'm selling back when it would have been really nice to buy it.

And I don't know if it's more true that I wouldn't have afforded it than that I couldn't have afforded it, but either way, I wouldn't have forked over the 14 or 15 bucks to myself for my CD. Not because I wouldn't have wanted it--I really would have, if you must know--but because I didn't have any extra cash in those days—all that diaper-ish money was just flying out the door and I was working hard to make sure we had enough for groceries. (In fact, there were days I was standing hopefully at the Coinstar maching during the last week of the month.) Don't start playing violins or anything--my husband and I made a choice to one-income it for a while so I could be home with our guys. And it was a good choice for a while (though I was, at that time, the proud recipient of two facial ticks and a surly demeanor). And it meant that things were tight. Really tight. (I didn't make that thing up about the Coinstar.)

And so during those years, musically speaking, I was square in the spot to have only the kids music that other people gave to me--hence the onslaught of bad kid choirs and electric synthesizers that drove me to my own guitar to try to get myself and my children out of the music-less pickle that we were in.

And this might make me different from the general Alterndad-ish community of my Gen X-ish generation. Maybe everybody else has plenty of cash for music. Maybe our generation thinks of music as a “staple” category and not an “extra”—maybe nobody else hesitates to drop 10 bucks or 30 on music every month. But I notice that even now when the belt’s been loosened a bit, I’m still not Mrs. Got Cash or anything, and I still don’t have a lot of music money. And maybe, I’m thinking, I’m not alone in this way.

So what I'm saying here is that I'm thinking about sharing my new stuff this summer. I've got all my songs written for the next CD and these really terrific plans to record them in a shiny studio--but only God's Uncle Bob knows when I'll be able to pull off the right convergence of cash and back up bands and chutspah to really do it.

So I’m going to post the tracks that I make on my own souped-up Garage Band set up. Because wouldn't I have liked to be able to download songs that I could sing with my kids in the car--for free?

Yeah, I would have really liked that.

Come back and check soon for free songs. They’ll be really terrific homegrown versions of the stuff I’ll record in the Big Kid Studio some one of these days. And I’ll sell those when they’re ready—I really will—for the next project and maybe for fancy t-shirts or something.

For now, though, let’s sing in the car together this summer.

Song Help

2007-05-16T08:33:00.000-07:00

I'm an only child, so it doesn't cross my mind much to ask for help from friends, but I just read this article about Jonathon Coulton and his ten bazillion web friends, and it made me think about those of you who hang out with me here. We're having a nice time, aren't we? Yes.

I'm working on a song right now called "Out of Town Grandma"--I've got some stuff I really like, but would love some more quirky routines that any of you have going in your families (don't worry, I've already covered she-buys-them-a-ton-of-candy). Anybody want to give me some really good tiny little strange details about the routines of life with an out of town grandma? I'm open. Hit me.

Let's write a song.

Generation Stoic

2007-05-09T12:24:00.000-07:00

Okay, I don't really actually know what they call this particular generation of whipper snappers, but I teach college--as in:

And I'm telling you they all walk around with ipods in their heads. This, of course, does not bother me a bit. I've started doing it myself. Here's the weird part: they have COMPLETELY straight faces: all of them. Not one of them is AIR BANDING. I mean--no Karaoke-light; no smidge-of-lips-saying-the-lyrics; no occasional power chord on the book bag. Nothing. Total serious faces.

Personally, I can barely keep myself together when I walk from the parking lot to my class, listening to Toto (yes, Toto). There I am in the Campus Market buying over-priced, over-cooked coffee straining like crazy to keep from busting out "99--woo-oooo" and all around me are people managing to pull that off quite nicely.

I am amazed (and a little creeped out). What will all this self-possession do to their generation? I think they're all going to grow up and have mental lapses at 60 just from the sheer pressure of all that self-control.

Maybe they're all listening to NPR. Do they not listen to Journey? Does no one know of Chaka Khan? Prince? Yes?

Tragedy. Pure generation-wide tragedy.

I think I may seriously consider re-aligning our culture's current perspective on airbanding in public. I'll get back to you on this. In the meantime, I'm feeling very thankful for my solid, 80's power-chord-loud-trap-set-with-the-occasional-sentimental-synthesizer roots.

Big Carny Money

2007-05-05T20:22:00.000-07:00

Does anybody know of any Alfalfa-look-alike contests? I'm seriously thinking that maybe we can travel around with my son and make money at carnivals or something and eat funnel cake all the time. Then we could make friends with carnies. And we could meet somebody named Tough Harvey or something and he could tell us stories of growing up setting up carnival tents. And we could get good tips. And eat more funnel cake.

C'mon. Tell me you know somebody who looks more like Alfalfa than my son Will.

Didn't think so.

It's always good to have several dreams available for the family in case one of them doesn't work out.

I'm thinking this might be a solid PLAN B for us.

I'm still thinking about song writing

2007-05-02T17:48:00.000-07:00

I've been posting lately about what makes a good kid song--really because I'm working on the songs for my next project, and I'm (honestly) trying to figure it out.

I've hit some how-to-make-em-interesting points so far (hand-clapping, guitar strum, back-up singers . . .)

But now I'm asking the BIG question: WHAT MAKES A GOOD LYRIC? Click on over to The Lovely Mrs. Davis Tell You What to Think to check out my guest blog about this. . .

Cool Things I Noticed in a Song #3

2007-04-25T19:39:00.000-07:00

Some people, I hear, always dreamed of being back-up singers. The Supremes for Diana. The Pips for Gladys. You know, that sort of thing. I won't lie. I think I only ever dreamed of being Diana and Gladys--but there's a special spot for really good back up.

And that's today's amazing insight into writing really terific kids' music. (And remember, I think about this sort of thing because I want to figure out how to do it really, life-changingly well).

#1 Best Use of a Righteous Back Up Band

"John the Rabbit": Elizabeth Mitchell, YOU ARE MY FLOWER

I love this song for the regular-guy-ness of it. Maybe she should have been Elizabeth Mitchell & the Yes Ma'ams . . . well, I mean, for that song at least. And try to imagine the song where Elizabeth just says those words for herself. Right. TOTALLY not the same.

A well-placed back-up can make a good song really terrific.

I think I'm going to put an ad up on Craigslist so that I can have a righteous back up band for my next CD:

WANTED: Regular people to say context-appropriate words over and over in order to aid impact of children's song. Call 1-800-BEMYRIGHTEOUSBACKUPBAND

I'll let you know if anyboy calls.

Cool Things I Noticed in a Song #2

2007-04-20T10:41:00.000-07:00

Part 2 in an infinite series about the minutae of song writing for kids. Click here for Part 1. Or, um, scroll down to the post before this one.

Okay, so today's totally insightful insight about songwriting is all about chord strum. And I'm not going to leave you hanging with a bunch of cluttering personal sharing before I just get right to it and tell you this:

#1 Best use of dramatic chord strum:

(This is so easy to pick. I didn't even, like, think about it--I just KNEW the answer. . . .)

"I Want a Dog": Lunch Money, SILLY REFLECTIONS

Okay, now to the cluttering person sharing.

I chose this song because of its ability to make me wish I were playing it. Don't you just want to set up the microphone stand you have lying around your house and belt that soulful truth-telling line:

"I want a [DRAMATIC, SOULFUL CHORD STRUM WITH A HOLD] Daaaaaaaahhhhhg.
I want a [DRAMATIC, SOULFUL CHORD STRUM WITH A HOLD] Daahhhhh-ah-ah-ah-ah-g . . .
I would name him Al- [DRAMATIC, SOULFUL CHORD STRUM WITH A HOLD WHILE SAYING THE NEXT WORD} Fraaydo."

Not kidding. I want to sing that song everytime I hear it. Love it.

Plus, I think there ought to be more songs that address the reality of the hamster. But more on the insight of the lyrics later . . .

Cool Things I Noticed in a Song

2007-04-17T07:35:00.000-07:00

The (always) Lovely Mrs. Davis has posted a fabulously-specific and believable list of kids albums for parents who want to break into listenable kids music (and break out of the primary colored t-shirt thing). I've broken into and out of it all myself, but I'm still going to buy some of the albums she lists.

And she's inspired me. See, I've been listening to kids music in a strangely specific way myself these days. Since a good handful of my earliest songs can all be traced back to single melody that was the theme song for a show starring someone named Uncle Jed, I've been paying really close attention to how other artists add interest to their songs. Really cool lyrics, I get. That to me is the real fun of song writing. But how do you make your guitar and the rest of the stuff sitting around your house turn the song into something even better than just the lyrics could make it. (A real stretch for me as a poet by training.)

So, here's the first in my list of Cool Things I Noticed in A Song.

#1 Best use of non-irritating hand clapping:

"Oh Well": Scribblemonster, CHOCOLATE MILK

Click for a listen to see what I mean. There just aren't that many hand-clapping songs out there that actually make me want to clap. I always practically wreck my car when this song comes on.

Stay tuned for more scintillating insights on the minutiae of song-making.

Nifty New Show

2007-04-02T18:37:00.000-07:00

We just booked with WEEKEND RECESS in L.A. for August (8/18). Mark your calendars, all you L.A.-ish people. (I think I know three of you.)

Weekend Recess is a once-a-month kiddie-music frenzy with games (there's even kid karaoke. C'mon.). They've been doing this event monthly at Hollywood's Knitting Factory and have just found a new venue. Pretty cool thing they're pulling off for kidlets in southern California.

We're excited. It sounds like a hoot--which is the standard for our travelling out of town to sing. "Will it be a hoot?"; "Um, yes, Maam, it promises to be a hoot."; "Okay, we'll go."

While We're Waiting Patiently

2007-03-27T07:57:00.000-07:00

I can hear that Jeopardy music in the background--you know, the song they play while everyone's writing their answer. While
Mrs. Davis and Bill the Rocker rest up from their Brooklyn Escapade (that fantastic everybody-was-there concert in Brooklyn Saturday), I thought I would keep us occupied so that we don't become cranky with them and tell them to drink some coke and hurry up and tell us what happened. So, while we wait, let me tell you about some nifty blogs I've been watching. They have nothing to do with kids music, but they are cool (And hey, I'm the girl out here on the stage juggling while the real show sets up behind the curtain . . .)

First, go check out Puttermeister ("I write. I knit. I teach. I putter.")

My friend Amy writes all kinda crazy smart stuff about knitting . . and movies . . . and literature . . . . and moving her furniture around for the carpet cleaning guy. If you like pictures of creative process and the weird/true insights of a mega-brain mixed with coffee talk, take a blog stroll on over there.

If knitting's not your thing, but you like Egypt or travelling with small children [now THERE'S a transition], go see my friends' blog about their family trip.

Well, it's actually a geologic/historical sabbatical study mixed with kids climbing pharaoh statues. They're going all over the place--Egypt, Greece, Italy, England, France . . . WITH THEIR THREE CHILDREN (did I already mention that?) If you left your early history education with nothing more than the phrase THE CODE OF HAMMURABI like I did--or you want to see a family completely go for it with their life--check it out.

I'm here for you while you wait.

Our gigs are coming together

2007-03-23T20:04:00.000-07:00

We're not completely booked for the Spring and Summer, but here are some fun shows coming up:

MORRO BAY LIBRARY
Thursday, April 12th

SAN LUIS OBISPO LIBRARY
Saturday, April 21st

BREAKFAST WITH ENZO
(We get to sit in and sing with the SF Kid-Music-King)
Saturday, June 23rd

PASO ROBLES LIBRARY
Thursday, July 5th

For all the details, click here.

And if you're looking for something super terrific to check out, be watching Spare the Rock for reports about tomorrow's super-concert in Brooklyn of everybody that's anybody with their own guitar who's ever paid their own money to record anything that's ever been recorded for kids that is cool.

"What's with the perfunctory blog entries?"

2007-03-18T16:20:00.000-07:00

Okay, now that hurts. It cuts to the quick. I won't lie.

"I posted that picture of those love boat people."

"Yeah, but you didn't say anything about it."

"Yeah, but it was funny--c'mon. It was GOPHER."

"Okay, Well, I mean . . .if it was supposed to be funny . . ."

So, she's right--my officemate, I mean. (She can't help it--she tells it like it is.) My posts have been lame lately, so I thought I'd just come right out and say it: Hi. My name is Ginger. And I'm a lame blogger (lately).

Thing thing is . . .we're selling our house (as part of an evil family plot of ours to live in more than 1000 square feet). And I've been working like a manic june cleaver freak for about two weeks. Here's my kitchen on 1950's steroids:

Here's my kitchen today:

We, um, found a buyer. Sure, it's good news because we wanted to sell our house--but the real news here is that I can put down the mop and get back to blogging.

Guy.

Today Is the Day I Wish I Lived in Brooklyn.

2007-03-08T10:56:00.000-08:00

The coolest radio guy in independent kids music is organizing the coolest live show of independent kids artists. The show's gonna be in Brooklyn. And the list of artists is over-the-top wonderful. Really, everybody doing nifty independent kids music is going to be there. Click here to find out why you wish you lived in Brooklyn too.

I'm Just Saying.

2007-02-27T15:46:00.001-08:00

Herman Ripp

2007-02-24T15:37:00.000-08:00

Why would I lie about a name like that? He was my 6th grade teacher, and he used to sing.

I'm not talking about cool, early musical influence, or admitting to any sort of early musical dorkiness here. I'm just saying Mr. Herman Ripp, my 6th grade teacher who wore corduroys and had a mustache, used to sing. No guitar. No piano. No tiny little wooden recorder. Just hardbound song books and tunes like Streets of Laredo--sad cowboy songs where men died alone in the middle of the desert.

Here's a verse:

Then beat the drum slowly, play the fife lowly.
Play the death march as you carry me along.
Take me to the green valley, lay the sod o'er me,
I am a young cowboy and I know I've done wrong.

Good times. Mr. Ripp would stand in the front of our classroom and warble those songs like he was about to cry. Then we'd all put the books away and go back to math.

And I even thought to mention it because I was listen to REK's latest studio album,what i really mean, and one of the songs sounded a lot like those old cowboy songs.

And I remembered Mr. Ripp and was struck by how sometimes our early influences aren't so much inspirational as they are, well, influences.

Old Banana Freedom

2007-02-19T10:36:00.000-08:00

Important Old Banana Update: I thought you would be so glad to hear that in an act of bold kindness to me, my husband ate a banana that was turning brown. I mean, there I was, asking myself the question "Will I REALLY be able to throw that away and not freeze it?" Everything in me was, well, clenched. And then there was the peel, emptied of my need to decide.

I'm watching the five that are currently yellowing in my kitchen and telling myself, "You can do it, Ginger. You know you can."

I put my dukes up to whatever god is in charge of banana bread-on-the-fly and threw out all the old bananas in my freezer. There were 24. I had 24 old bananas in my freezer. Because someday I might make banana bread.

It was like risking the wrath of some meaner, more survivalist-oriented version of the pillsbury dough boy.

And now I have no backup plan, no means of pulling off a homemade baked good on the spur of the moment. I am embracing the bakery. I am saying yes to the high skill level of others. I am eschewing homemade.

Who knows what will happen to me at Christmastime (which is in like 11 months). I don't know what will happen. This is a crazy I-don't-have-any-way-to-make-banana-bread sort of a ride. Hold on tight--no! Don't hold on tight. Let go. Put your hands in the air. Feel that feeling like you might fall off.

Yes.
I have no bananas.

But what if you need to make banana bread, Ginger? What will you DO?

I don't know. I really, honestly, don't know. I'm shaking my head as I write this. I just don't know.

But when I peer into my freezer and see the vacated place that those bananas held, I have a feeling that seems like . . . freedom.

Standing next to the boat

2007-02-08T23:03:00.000-08:00

I've been thinking about the way we lose them, our children, I mean --about the way some days I go into my son's room, and there is another boy there, someone more lank, who can--as if the skill snuck into him in the night--read words and share with his brother, someone who refuses to eat carrots. And I have this sad longing for the other boy, a sort of cocktail of regret and relief: so glad he's learned this next thing, so sorry I wasn't kinder to him before he did--longing, I think, for the chance to be with him in his other state like I could be now that I see it really will have an end.

It's something like that thing of slogging across the river in order to get to the boat you needed to get yourself across the river.

But I can't seem to see the end of these stretches of not-getting-there that he passes through--until he's on the other side, and I have, just by waiting for the hard thing to pass, missed something. Missed the chance to be the one who would be sturdy and kind enough to love him real well while he wasn't anywhere he needed to be yet.

And maybe that's why I like to sing--to celebrate those other moments behind me, those other boys behind me.

Like standing there next to the boat, pants wet and all, and singing back across the river to him--singing loud so hear can hear me.

A Really Nice Big Brother

2007-01-26T18:21:00.002-08:00

Okay--so there's the issue of Nate's niceness to his mother for dressing up in this MACARONI & CHEESE costume in the first place. (Check.) Then, there's the issue of his extra niceness, for holding up one of our postcards (his sister Coral really loves our CD). (Check.) Then, there's the grand finale of high school guy niceness that he didn't lose his, well, macaroni, when his mother emailed me this picture. (Check. Check.)

We think Nate is great.

Because I Prefer to Enter a Conversation Once Everyone's Left the Room

2007-01-19T12:38:00.000-08:00

I'm conflict avoidant. I can't talk about it. Really, I am.

Everyone's been talking about Laurie Berkner. Okay, not everyone, but still--people I think are important are talking about her. (That was who *I* think; not, who I *think* . . .)

I haven't thrown my indie kid music hat into the ring yet because 1. (See opening line) and 2. I've been chewing on the whole thing. There's something in the conversation that I'm not sure we ever got to (maybe because it sort of heated up ever so slightly, and I might not be the only person who tends to ditch the kitchen when the stove's on high).

I think Mrs. Davis kicked off an interesting conversation about artistic legitimacy, actually.

Her bent--as this reader understands it--is not that Laurie Berkner is crummy (which seems to be how most reader's interpreted what Mrs. Davis said) but that her not-crummyness is shared by others, while her get-paid-to-do-that-all-the-time is not.

Here's a story. (As far as you know, it has to do with what we're talking about.) When I was in graduate school studying poetry, these published poets used to come to our workshops and read their work and then we'd have a Q & A and within the first three minutes somebody would ask, "How do you get published?" The published poet then inevitably launched into a sort of there-must-be-beer-in-the-air-I'm-so-relaxed kind of discussion about how it's not really *about* getting published, man.

And I always wanted to get up and yell BUT YOU'RE PUBLISHED.

I didn't, of course. I just set out to get published . . . like we all did. And it was really hard. And by the time the three years of that two-year program were over, I’d written scads more than I’d ever published. Was I a poet if I wasn’t published much? I really wanted to keep writing poetry.

Ten years later, I’m still writing poetry. I haven’t published much at all since those years in grad school. Here’s what I’ve done, though: I’ve decided that it’s okay for me to write poetry. And in my life I’m trying to point myself toward the sign that reads YOU GET TO SAY WHAT YOU'RE GOOD ENOUGH TO DO and away from the sign that says IF YOU GET A CHECK, THEN THAT MUST MEAN YOU WERE GOOD ENOUGH TO DO IT AFTER ALL.

I give an absolute high five to Laurie Berkner for going for it in her wildly goofy kids music. But the cash she's made isn't what inspires me or makes me think she's great. It's the "chops" she showed for just recording her songs in the first place.

May we all have chops. May we all record our own goofy songs. May we all not wait for our bank accounts to tell us we're good enough. Amen.

Am I a Good Parent?

2007-01-19T09:17:00.000-08:00

I ask this question all the time--to myself (don't worry--not to my kid). Here's the blessing I got the other day in the car. It was a spontaneous recitation by my four-year-old. He was apparently trying to show me that he knows what's what:

#1 (And he did announce the numbers): No tv before school.

#2: No little boys going on the computer to check emails.

#3: No going into somebody else's house

#4: No pushing old ladies.

#5: Be nice to old ladies.

My question is finally answered. You know what you need to know, grasshopper.

Have a Super New Year

2007-01-01T20:12:00.000-08:00

From our family to yours.

My Christmas Present to You: THRIFTING 101

2006-12-21T19:56:00.000-08:00

I love to thrift shop. I do it for all my friends. I take my kids and they do it for all their friends. I don't know your size, though.

So, I am offering THRIFTING 101--all kinda wise thoughts about how to get the most out of a thrift store.

Merry Christmas. May you enjoy thrifting forevermore now.

Love,

--ginger.

THRIFTING 101

BIG PICTURE THRIFTING TRUTHS:

Keep your standards high: say no to rips, tears and stains. The feeling that you can get anything “out” with Tide is just a feeling. If the stain is a crunchy one that is clearly just the lunch of the person who donated it, that’s one thing. The rule of thumb: if you wouldn’t wear it just as it is, don’t buy it. (You won’t hem it, sew it, take it up, tuck it, or anything else. Sorry, but I know you, and you won’t.) The exception to this rule: if something’s missing a button but has an extra one attached, I will get it.

. . . but not too high: it’s easy to be slurped up into the frenzy of “OhmygoshIjustgotthatfor65cents!!!!” Don’t lose sight of the obvious. For example, when you find a beautifully-intact cashmere sweater for $7.00 that fits you just right, throw off the feeling that it’s just TOO MUCH money. Buy it.

Pay attention to how it fits: the torture of thrifting is that it is possible—and a regular occurrence—to find something that you love that just doesn’t fit you right (too tight in the boobs, too loose in the boobs …whatever). The upside of thrifting is the treasure hunting and the comically low prices; the downside is that when you find something, it won’t be available in 7 handy sizes. Don’t buy something (even if it’s cute and cheap) if it doesn’t fit well. You’ll just put it back into thrift-store-circulation when you get it home if it doesn’t fit well. And remember: $1.98 is cheap only if you actually buy something you like. Otherwise, it’s just like hucking $1.98 out the window: you COULD have purchased a double tall latte with that cash.

Become an owner of fabric softner: okay, there’s the smell. Let’s not pretend. There’s the smell. Right now, as I write, I’ve just thrown away (and then fished out of the trash) my favorite black vinyl jacket. It stinks. It’s cute, but it’s got a significant must that I can’t seem to shake with laundry products. I’m in the process of experimenting with various smell-good softeners. More on this as the research lays itself out.

Or become a wearer-of-perfume: this is really information for thrifting 201 because probably your naturally aromatic personal smell trumps thrift-store-must with just a few items hanging in your closet and on your back, but once you begin to integrate additional pieces and branch out into coats, you run the risk of having the must overwhelm your personal essence. I believe that this could be fought off with the right purchased scent. I haven’t, of course, done this yet. But it seems like it would work.

SPOTS IN A THRIFT STORE NOT TO MISS:

Shirts are an easy beginning (especially at the places that sort by color). Housewares: always a sure thing for a cheap cocktail glass or a plastic plate with a picture of the little mermaid. If you’re a basket-lover, get ready to die and go to heaven. Don’t miss: men’s belts (I hover there, waiting to find a western jobby to attach to a buckle I like that’s currently attached to a belt that I don’t); tablecloths and napkins; all the weirdly smushed together accessory bins (who doesn’t need snow gloves for 25 cents?).

SPOTS IN A THRIFT STORE TO PLAN ON SKIPPING:

Any category of clothing that would cover a “trouble” spot (for me, that’s my, well, behiiiiiiiiiind, so I skip “pants”); socks; shoes (though I do watch for cowboy boots, which somehow seem different and less able to deliver an old foot fungus than your basic old shoe); women’s belts (almost always made of plastic); all the chotchky—c’mon, do you really NEED that porcelain donkey?

Why I'm not cool. (And also a list of my TOP 5 Dream Concerts.)

2006-12-19T07:54:00.000-08:00

I feel like it's time to set the record straight: I'm not cool.

There. I said it.

I did not arrive to music-writing via The Ramones or The Violent Femmes or any sort underground railroad of coolness. (I took the bus marked "reeeeeeeallyy dorky youth group girl" through the mid-80's, walked the rain-soaked sidewalk of "painfully-self-evualuating-20-something" in the mid-90's, and rode in a gas-guzzling SUV blaring, more-or-less bad radio as the new millenium approached.) I didn't begin to find my musical self until, well, a handful of years ago. (And, don't worry--now I drive a Honda.)

I didn't have my first real oh-this-is-what's-so-terrific-about-live-music experience until a year or so ago. Pete and I went to see Robert Earl Keen with some friends at a big hamburger place/music venue that mostly sets up for college kids and we yelled our heads off (okay, maybe it was just me yelling my head off) and squished up to the edge of the stage and screamed CHRISTMAS SONG (because that is one of his best, after all) and we left sweaty and when I walked out I thought, "That's what people mean when they say they like to go to shows."

My best concert before that one? Get ready: Amy Grant. Hold on. Here's the deal. There was a time (back in the pre-Baby-Baby/per-Vince-Gill/pre-bad-pop days) when she was the voice of one girl talking from her heart for those of us in jr. high who couldn't. I know I loved that concert for the same reason we all love concerts--somebody's up there pouring your heart out for you, or yelling or laughing their head off for you: it's you up there. Really, it's you.

Here are the five concerts on my list that I really want to see before it's all over for me:

#5: Robert Earl Keen again. That one was easy.

#4: Gillean Welch. This girl sings real songs. And I would want to see her in a bar with those wagon wheel tables and wood chips on the floor.

#2:Dan Zanes. I've never seen him, and I think he's doing with his life what many of us want to be doing: having a good time while he's helping other people have a good time too--plus I want to get up close enough to figure out what product he uses to get his hair to stand up like that.

#3:Daniel Lanois & Emmy Lou Harris together. This would be a sort of marriage-dream come true--my all-time favorite artist singing with my husband's all-time favorite. I would need backstage passes to make this dream real. And a new outfit. Yeah. And cowboy boots for Pete. Yeah.

#1:Barbra Streisand. It's true--this will be the real concert event of my lifetime. ALL THAT DRAMA! I will have experience YEARS of emotion just by SITTING (and, um, paying $1000). It will be the pinacle of the-artist-feels-for-me experiences. Really.

There. I said it. Now you know.

My Boy Loves NIGHT RANGER

2006-12-10T08:16:00.001-08:00

It's all the buzz! We did our guest dj set for Spare the Rock, Spoil the Child, and my 6 year-old chose Night Ranger's "Sister Christian" as one of his picks. You can't believe all the BUZZZZZ about it--I mean . . . . there's like tv crews, news reports, bloggish uproar. . . um, I mean Bill and Scribble Jim and I emailed about it.

In order to set the record straight to ALL THE PUBLIC who are TALKING ON AND ON about this, I pose this question: What's the strangest song your kid has ever loved?

I mean, when I started listening to the crazy mix of 80's songs my friend Sunshine put together for me for my birthday last year, I didn't really expect "Sister Christian" to be the one that my boys (6 & 4) would be yelling, "play it again!" about from the backseat.

C'mon, let's put together a list: what are the strange ones that made you shake your head and go, "Really? You like THAT one?"

My Pretend Interview with Barbra Streisand

2006-12-06T13:25:00.000-08:00

(This has been lovingly moved from my website over here to my blog, where it will live on in perpetuity. . . in my opinion, everyone should sit down with Barbra in their mind and let her ask you questions.)

A pretend interview wherin Barbra Streisand asks Ginger Hendrix Oprah-esque questions about her music, her life, her self.

Pretend Barbra: Ginger, are you surprised by the sudden success of Macaroni Boy Eats at Chez Shooby Doo?

Ginger: I don’t want to sound immodest, Barbra, but I’m really not. We’re hungry for real music—music that tells the truth and doesn’t shy away from words like (if you’ll excuse me) “potty” and “stinky.” We want to sing what we know to be real. All this singing about rainbows and unicorns has left us with a gaping inner space that is crying to be filled.

PB: Yes. I know what you mean. I felt that way when I filmed Yentl. Before we get ahead of ourselves, how did you get started on this journey, if you will, to music?

G: Interestingly to me, it was a path I happened upon, stumbled upon if you will. I was at home with my kids (and I mean that in a life-style sort of a way as opposed to just a “here’s what was going on on a particular day” sort of way), not having, well, the BEST time of my life and I accepted a friend’s invitation to a parent participation class. I’d tried them before, but they all seemed to be filled with women whose children would sit nicely and play with a single puzzle piece. My kids, um, didn’t play that way.

PB: Um hmmm. Um hmmmm.

G: I arrived really needing encouragement and some glimmer of hope that my boys were merely, well, “active” and I got it. It was a huge relief. I’d found a landing place.

PB: I’m so interested in you, but what does this have to do with your music?

G: I play the guitar, so I offered to do the music time for our class. I was desperate for a way to offer something in thanks for the realness of the class.

PB: Desperate?

G: I really was.

PB: Hmmmmm.

G: Before I showed up the first day, a song came to me, so I shared it. The kids loved it. The next week I wrote another. And so on, and so on.

PB: So, you say that music, essentially APPEARED to you like a beckoning apparition?

G: Yes, Barbra, but less ghost-like than your metaphor would imply. I’d been studying and writing poetry [you could click here for a link to my writing group’s website, but they don’t have one] for many years and so lyric-writing was a natural extension of that experience.

PB: Before I forget to ask, what is your favorite movie?

G: Yentl.

PB: Good. Good. Now, why children’s music, and not, say, Broadway-style-soul-revealing-cabaret-without-the-deep-lightness -of-self-that-requires sort of music?

G: It was really a matter of available audience (a group of my sons’ friends) mixed with the desire to be goofy.

PB: I don’t really know what you mean, but I’m so interested. How would you describe your music?

G: I think you could say that my music sounds like a less-talented Etta James meets Johnny Cash when he’s in a good mood meets the Artist Formerly Known as Marie Osmond meets Stanley if he were a girl and his fish were a dog who played the guitar.

PB: Mmmmmmmmmmm.

G: Barbra, could I offer you a copy of my CD before you are whisked off to your next heartfelt experience?

PB: No, Ginger, please don’t. I already have a copy of my own, and you should know that I’m considering singing “Rocking My Cat to Sleep” in my next show—a “thrio,” possibly, with Dan Zanes and Gillian Welch.

G: Thank you, Barbra, thank you. That would be a dream come true.

What's the Big Deal about Dan Zanes?

2006-11-30T10:50:00.000-08:00

I mean, the guy's face is everywhere--you can't read a word worth writing about decent kids music without seeing his name. What's the big whoop?

I'll tell you (according to me): it's because he's the man. Honestly, I can say that I wouldn't have ponied up and made my CD if I hadn't ever encountered his music. Okay, so we're still on "why he's a big deal to me"--and since this is my blog, we may stay here, but I have this feeling on the inside that I'm not the only semi-talented, semi-funded, indie-kid-music-making chick out there with the same story.

Before I made my CD, I didn't listen to a lot of kids music--I mean, we had three dollars less than "no money" for quite a while, and CD-buying was not on the list (it fell somewhere after groceries, as I remember). The only "kids" music we listened to was the stuff people bought for us--and mostly we listened to it once, and then we promptly gave it away to the Goodwill for somebody else to um, er, enjoy.

I started writing the songs we sang in my sons' parent participation group because I didn't know any other kids songs besides "Dinah Won't You Blow" and "The Wheels on the Bus"--and I was bored. I'd already written a fat stack of songs by the time I'd heard of Zanes.

I still remember hearing the song "Thrift Shop" for the first time: Sandra Bernhard pairs with him for this song--and I listened the first time because I LOVE to thrift shop and so do my boys (as if they had a choice), and I remember playing the song back a second or third time to "check" what I thought I'd heard: It seemed like MAYBE Sandra didn't hit every note just right. In fact, maybe she had sort of a medium voice.

I checked. It was true.

And that fantastic thing about it was that I LOVED THE SONG. I won't even say that I loved the song ANYWAY. I mean I LOVED THE SONG. Part of her gutsy-belt-it-out-just-as-it-is was what makes the song so deliciously terrific. And it was this green light for me to go for it with my own music.

The big deal about Zanes? He's told the world that making music oughta be about good times. I'd say that's worth a big whoop.

Super Good News (almost like an early christmas)

2006-11-18T08:35:00.000-08:00

Our CD made the FIDS & KAMILY AWARDS--we're on the list of the BEST KIDS ALBUMS OF 2006!

Yipeeeeeeeee! [insert image of me jumping up and clicking my heels together like a leprachaun or a toyota-buyer]

Actually, this is how happy we are:

Those are really nice people over there. Our real and true thanks to them for picking us for their team. (It's like better than the line-up for dodge ball teams in 5th grade. We got picked.)

If you want to hear Bill Child's dramatic read-off of the list, check out his kid radio show SPARE THE ROCK, SPOIL THE CHILD.

We'll be clinking cups all day long over here at our house.

Miracles of Costume Science

2006-11-13T21:47:00.000-08:00

My boy says he needs glasses. Right.

"How do these work?"

"Good," he says.

Good. Hopefully Harry Potter won't need them back.

I'd wear a black arm band if I had one lying around the house

2006-11-09T07:44:00.000-08:00

Okay, I know you're going to say, "But wait--I thought you were THIRTY-NINE and not FOURTEEN AND A HALF"--but to tell you the truth, I really LOVE watching The Gilmore Girls. (It's some of what my thirteen year old niece and I have in common . . .) I know it's hip to love LOST and that SIXTY SECONDS SHOW or whatever: c'mon people my age watch GREY'S ANATOMY and the cooking channel.

Not me. I really, really, really like the fast-talking sarcastic-mouthed Gilmore Girls. Amy Sherman Palladino is my kind of television writer.

The part about the arm band: she left. Amy, I mean. She left. I can't get the whole story (mostly because I'm not willing to read all the gilmore blogs), but she's not there any more. And now it's like watching your favorite movie when you're in another country and all you can hear is dubbed-over japanese on top of Gone with the Wind. (It looks famliar, but it's juuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuust not the same.)

I am sad, and I am sharing.

I'd say more, but I think you may find out that I'm even dorkier than I sound already. And, um, that seems tragic.

A moment of silence, please, for my favorite show. I can't believe it, but I think I may stop watching. I feel oddly sad, like someone I liked has moved away.

Raise Your Hand If Your Mom Left the Halloween Makeup Out on the Bathroom Counter

2006-11-03T12:25:00.000-08:00

I Wrote to Oprah

2006-10-28T15:58:00.000-07:00

But she didn't write back. (Yet, that is.)

Okay, so this one time I was clicking around oprah.com (you go there too--you know you do), and I saw some question about working moms and I got on some toot to respond, and I wrote this response:

I think the roughest challenge facing Moms is deciding how much to work—not whether to stay home or whether to work but how much of our lives to give to the things that are not our family. I’m not talking about the need for cash here. I’m talking about our life work—whatever it is that we were put here to do.

As I see it, our culture seems to offer two choices (and they’re both capitalized everywhere you look): Working Mother or Stay-at-Home Mom. We have babies and then we’re supposed to check the box: which will it be?

Why is no one talking about the mother who works a little, stays home a little, drives a little--well, probably drives a lot--reads a little to her kids, reads a little for herself, hangs with her husband a little, with her friends a little, gives away her time a little . . . .

We seem to have bought the paradigm the working world offers: employee or non-employee. I want to be more than the employee of my life.

I feel strongly about this because it’s been incredibly difficult for me. It’s taken me a handful of years to see that it’s okay not to pick which mom camp I’m in. I need to make some money. I need to be with my boys. I need to do the creative work that I do. I need to do the volunteer work that I do. I need to be awake in my relationship with my husband. And I’m working hard right now to sculpt a life that is packed with pieces of all of these things. I’m not crossing things off my list; I’m portioning them.

Are we telling each other as women that this is a legit means of tackling life—or are we just standing in two camps, busy misunderstanding those women on the other side of the line?

About me: I teach at the local university; I write music and sing for kids; I spend time with my husband, with my friends, with my kids; I volunteer; I thrift shop. I don’t do any of these things full time.

(Updated) Why I don't read to my children

2006-10-27T16:12:00.000-07:00

Okay, I lied: I do read to my children. I have found it really excruciating for a few years, though. I noticed that I made up excuses to pawn off bedtime reading to my husband. Then I read Mem Fox’s Reading Magic and I realized that I didn’t read aloud much to my boys because the books on their shelves BUGGED ME.

They had stacks of books with kind of ugly machine-generated pictures and even uglier, machine-generated prose. So one day I snuck into their room and culled out the books that made me feel crabby when I looked at them. It was an amazing shift.

I love to read a book that’s worth reading. Here’s my (growing) list of books that make you want to read them—books with beautiful pictures that make you want to know what’s happening next; books with lyric prose (not sing-songy rhyme—the real stuff, the stuff poetry is made of); books with stories that end in a real way and don’t try to sneak up on a kid and try to talk them into believing something that doesn’t quite fly. Real books.

Henny Penny by Jane Wattenberg [This book is so full of words that want to go together that it's like having all kinds of good food in your mouth when you read it.]

The Big Red Barn by Margaret Wise Brown & Felicia Bond [This author of Good Night Moon is so good at rhyme that doesn't turn into lymric. A really beautiful, soothing book.]

Arnie the Doughnut by Laurie Keller [Laurie Keller is a kid book writing genuis.]

The Leaf Men by William Joyce [A terrific fairy story with nifty watercolor and ink illustrations.]

The Relatives Came by Cynthia Rylant and Stephen Gammel [This is one of those books you want to be in when you read it.]

Heckedy Peg by Audrey & Don Wood [The duo of Woods always make books with terrific pictures. The story here a little scary ("Heckedy Peg had one leg . . ."), but ultimately about a mom who is clever enough to outsmart a crabby witch lady and bring her big brood of kids home.

I say hold out for books that are beautiful. But that’s just my 42 cents.

**Hey--and here's a nifty list (that I will add links to later) from my friend Sunshine:

Books the Frawley Family Recommends You Check Out!

Owen - Kevin Henkes
Ira Sleeps Over - Bernard Waber
Jamberry - Bruce Degen
Slugs - Victoria Chess
Max the Minnow - William Bonaface
Curious George books - Margaret & H.A. Rey
Frog and Toad books - Arnold Lobel
Chickens Aren't the Only Ones - Ruth Heller (All books by her!)
I Like Me - Nancy Carlson
Pierre / Chicken Soup with Rice - Maurice Sendak
Clifford books - Norman Bridwell
Little Critter books - Mercer Mayer
The Monster at the End of This Book - Jon Stone (Sesame Street book)
The Berenstain Bears books - Stan and Jan Berenstain
Fortunately - Remy Charlip
Everyone Poops - Taro Gomi
Widget - Lyn Rossiter McFarland
Art Dog - Thacher Hurd
It Could Always Be Worse - Margot Zemach
Peabody - Rosemary Wells
Tikki Tikki Tembo - Arlene Mosel
Bob the Snowman - Sylvia Loretan
Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, Very Bad Day - Judith Viorst
Sippyjon Jones - Judy Schachner
Olivia books - Ian Falconer
The Little Mouse, the Red Ripe Strawberry and the Big Hungry Bear - Don and Audrey Wood (All books by them!)
The Very Hungry Caterpillar - Eric Carle (All books by him!)
Knuffle Bunny - Mo Williems
The Paper Bag Princess - Robert Munsch (All books by him!)

Montezuma's Diary

2006-10-24T12:10:00.000-07:00

Uh. I feel like I should say something here about the whole "WHO'S ALLOWED TO HAVE A BLOG" life-question. Turns out, it's "ANYBODY." I find blogging a thoroughly satisfying hobby--just below thrift shopping and above leaving weird answering machine greetings on my cell phone. It's that feeling that some of us love that there's a microphone turned on somewhere that we can walk up to at any time.

I told my friend Johnna (whose name has not been changed because she's not innocent in this case) that she should have a blog. She claims not to be interesting enough. I find that untrue and still think she should have one.

My future plans for posting: "I think my cleaning lady broke up with me."; "My son named his teddy bear Thelma"; "Places I like to click when I should be balancing my check book" (oh wait--look to the right--I did that one as a sidebar! (There! Diaaaaaaagonally! . . .Very sneaky, Sis.)

And my friend Amy says I need to write more pretend interviews! This is a very good idea which I give her full credit for. She is smart and has a big fat PhD. We teach together in one of my lives here.

That's all I have today. Except, of course, for the tiny little detail that the CD got two life-changing reviews. And I spent most of the afternoon hyperventilating with joy. I told my best friend Ann that I plan to be insufferable all day. It will probably be true, too.

Will Turned Six!

2006-10-22T14:30:00.000-07:00

Big news over here at the BTP Records Office (and tv room): The big kid has turned six. (The crowd should cheer here.) We pulled out all the stops with a pirate-batman-scooby-doo birthday party (theme, shmeme) and had a hoot of a time. See below for the incriminating picture of sweet Pete as PIRATE PETE (sadly, he refused to read the piratey script I'd written for him. Also, he discovered, somehow, that wearing boots without socks is very pirate-like. Obviously, he's right.)

Because of said piratey appearance, please notice the super happy birthday guy look on the six year old's face:

Shopping for piratey paper plates that everyone will forget to use: $3.22
Cleaning the house instead of lying on the couch: 3 hours 22 minutes of standing up
Seeing your son have a good time at his party: priceless.

Small Rockers Rock On

2006-10-18T14:29:00.000-07:00

According to a very reliable source, these children are, in fact, rocking out to Macaroni Boy Eats at Chez Shooby Doo. Derek and Stella and their cousins were born to rock--no, really, they were. Mom and Dad are the happy, Morro-Bay-loving owners of Central Coast Music (our favorite music store.) We like their style and know that someday they will have a band. No, really, they will have a band.

Do you have a pic of your kiddos singing along, rocking along, yelling along to Macaroni Boy? (Even a picture of them with the CD cover on their head counts as fun to look at and worthy of their ginger-blog-fame. **See below for the important distinction between "fame" and "ginger-blog-fame.")

You Don't Have to Be Able to Use the Potty to Love Macaroni Boy Eats at Chez Shooby Doo

2006-10-16T20:04:00.000-07:00

According to reliable sources, toilet training is not a pre-req to macaroni love. Exhibit A: Josiah.

If you want your kid to be famous on my blog, send me a pic here. (And when I say "famous," I mean of course, "ginger-blog-famous," which is its own kind of famous.)

Macaroni Boy Hits the Radio

2006-10-14T12:52:00.000-07:00

It's a true story: check it out! Macaroni Boy Eats at Chez Shooby Doo is currently on the playlist of a kids' radio show in Massachusetts. Bill Childs and his totally cute radio daughter (okay, it's actually his real daughter too--she's the one who drew the nifty picture of her dad's sound board . . .) host a two-hour kid show on Saturday mornings in Northampton, Mass. Here's the proof: "Spare the Rock, Spoil the Child." We're excited over here at the Buster T. Pumpkinhead Records office (and tv room). We'll post future good news.

Hey: even better, here's the archived podcast (now you don't have to wake up at 5 am pacific time . . .last weekend): um, right here.

Just when it couldn't get better, we hit TWO WEEKS on the SPARE THE ROCK, SPOIL THE CHILD playlist. Check out this weekend's show. (Bill Childs puts together a really fun combo of music for the fam.)

P.S. This isn't actually, the VERY first time we've been on the radio. The local public radio station interviewed Ginger this summer and played a couple of songs. Click here.

Why am I here?

2006-10-10T16:15:00.000-07:00

The thing is, I'm a born blogger. And I've had this tiny little website just busting with its too-big font, and I have, well, more to say. Plus, I just met (well, read) all these nice people from Massachusettes, and they all blog. So I want to. I'm pulling all my bloggish content over from my site.

Finding Good Kids Music

2006-10-10T16:10:00.000-07:00

Looking for music ideas for your kids? I’ve been of the I’m-sorry-I-just-can’t-hear-little-kids-sing-in-a-chorus school for some time now. Some kids singing: very cute. A whole passle with a bad synthesizer in the background: please no.

I’m not talking here about how to choose music that ensures your kid will be good at math. I’m talking about surviving the car ride of your current life with your children in the background saying, "I want my favorite song again.” (Which, at our house, is—for some reason—Natalie Merchant singing “Hey Jack Kerouac.” I don't know either.)

I’m talking about finding music that will create spontaneous family sing-alongs. This can be any music, but some music seems better suited than other music. (Who wants to sing Christina Aguilera with their kidlets? "I'm a genie in a bottle baby" . . . um. never mind.)

Here’s a list of music that’s made for sing-alongs and dance-alongs at our house:

FUN-TO-LISTEN-TO KID MUSIC

Dan Zanes (the grand Pooh-Bah of the family music movement)

Or take a look at the cdbaby.com kids/family music page. Lots of good independent artists here--and they all have sound clips so you can listen around.

WHATEVER MUSIC YOU LIKE (unless it’s KISS—or mini-KISS for that matter.) At our house, that’s big band, old country and (lately) Cuban:

Louis Armstrong My son: “Is this the cookie monster?”

Omara Portuondo Great for dancing in the living room.

All the Putamayo mixes are great: we love the Cuba. You can’t listen to this music and remain grumpy. It sweeps it all away.

MUSIC FOR CALMING DOWN

Sometimes to pull the energy down (and I mean by that: get them to stop hitting each other over and over again), we declare the mood shift with soothing music like these mixes:
Latin Lullaby and Brazillian Lullaby. A mix of artists—all beautiful.

We like opera music too. The Three Tenors are a good place to start for this kind of music.

Any kind of classical music that settles you will also settle them. I’m a big fan of those cheap mixes you can buy anywhere. It doesn’t have to say “Mozart for Babies” to be right for babies . . . but sometimes those are the ones you get for gifts, so go ahead and listen to them. They still count as real classical music (even if there’s a picture of a baby with a wand on the front.)

Final Note: remember, I’m not at all qualified to make recommendations of any kind: I’m not a doctor. I have a Maaaaaaaaaaaaster’s Degree . . . in English.