So when I was retelling the story of our weekend past, I completely forgot to mention the gig we played on Friday. Truthfully I had completely forgotten about the gig. Another addled new parent moment. Luckily, the lovely and talented Sherry Miller, wife of our bassist Dave Miller, took some snaps to remember that event by.
The gig was a part of KUHF's (Houston's Public Radio Station) Friday afternoon concert series called the Front Row. We played a three song set, and shared the stage with the awesome Invincible Czars and some equally rad child prodigy classical musician types. Those kids rocked the stage in a scary yet amazing way.
My folks were there, and they hung with Lisel while we played. Sherry took what has to be one of my favorite shots ever.
It was a sweet gig, on a sweet day, and afterwards we made our sweet way to Galveston.
Don't we look happy?
And I tell you, in that moment, we were.
Later that night, while Dave and I were acting on the stage, our daughter was having a freakout of sorts in the hotel room. She's too little to throw tvs out windows and punch holes in walls, so instead she vocalized her displeasure, which is to say she cried inconsolably all night long. I think we're all learning the limits of the baby brain...A car ride, a outdoor show, another car ride, and the lobby of a grand hotel (the Galvez lobby is rockin') it's all, well a little much for a little bean. And we a little bean's noggin get's full, the bean get's overwhelmed, and the bean must let out all that weird energy somehow.
I know all babies get overstimulated, and all babies go on crying jags, but not all babies have parents who take them to different cities everyday, who never really settle into routines, who live in a world of loud music. Dave and I are going to have to figure out how to find a new balance (no, not the running shoe kind) in our road life. How can we integrate her into our deal, without totally overwhelming her.
I don't know of any baby books that talk about this...I guess we'll be writing our own guide as we go.
Quick as it began, the Willie and the Wheel tour is over. We're back in Texas with all the shows done and the last couple of weeks seem a bit like a dream. So before the experience becomes an amorphous memory, I thought I'd give you a little day in the life of a family on tour with a baby and a legend.
4:30am - Rise to the sound of the iphone alarm. Think for a second that you could probably sneak in 30 minutes more of sleep.
4:31am - Remember you have a baby to feed before you get on the road. Get up and get the little bean on the boob.
Don't forget the baby!
4:35am - Watch your husband pull himself out of bed and stumble to the shower. Watch your baby eat. Watch the morning news or an infomercial for making money off by buying up houses whose owners have lost their houses due to inability to pay taxes (I saw this one three times on the road)
5:15am - Change the baby and get her ready to go while your husband and your father load your stuff into the car. You stuff, in this instance, is half of what you own as a couple. When you have a baby, you let go of the idea of traveling light. Thank goodness luggage carts!
5:30am - Meet your folks at the car. The men load into the front where they'll drive. The baby in the middle where her car seat is and the women load in the back where the bed is. Make a note to yourself about how you've all fallen into traditional roles. Thank the lord that your role involves a bed and sleeping.
Let's go y'all!(This picture was actually taken backstage at a gig...but it gives the idea
5:35am - Make sure your baby is asleep in the car seat.
Asleep Again
5:40am - Fall asleep yourself.
9:30am - Wake up because you either feel the baby bus slowing down or because you hear your baby waking up and fussing. It's breakfast time! Put in your order for Cracker Barrel breakfast. Take your sweet baby into the back of the baby bus and feed her while your husband and folks eat a nice down home breakfast. Tell yourself that one day you'll have the balls to breastfeed in the Cracker Barrel, but that day is not today.
10:30am - Put your baby back in her seat. Eat your breakfast of eggs bacon and pancakes (I could not get enough pancakes on the tour!) while the baby bus rolls.
10:45am - Sleep, blog, or surf the interweb on your iphone until you get to where your going.
1:30pm - Get to the hotel and check in.
1:40pm - Start feeding the little light of your life. Order room service for you and your spouse (Club Sandwich anyone?).
2:15pm - Take the baby off the boob and play for a little bit. She started smiling on this trip, so playtime was much fun!
Everybody Loves a smiling baby!
3:00pm - Drop the baby and all of her stuff (diaper bag, extra clothes bag, milk and bottle, baby carrier and stroller) off at the folks room. Kiss your baby goodbye. Feel your heart break in a way you didn't know was possible pre-baby as you walk out the door. Who knew you could ever be ambivalent about going to a gig.
3:30pm - Get to the gig.
4:00pm - Sound check. Run through a couple of songs.
Check, check, 1,2,3 photo by Kevin Smith
4:40pm - End sound check. Bum around until...
John Doyle, Floyd Domino and Ruby Jane Smith Bum around backstage photo by Kevin Smith
5:00pm - Dinner! Enjoy the beauty that is catering on the road. Good food. Fresh fruit. And usually little granola bar things that you can stuff in your pockets and take to the baby bus for later.
6:00pm - Find a quiet, secluded dressing room where you can pump. Hope no one walks in accidentally because that would be both embarrassing and uncomfortable.
7:30pm - Play the Gig!
7:30-10:00pm - Rock, swing, sing, watch Willie, dance, listen to the people around you play amazing solos, check out the crowd, play some of the greatest songs ever written.
The gig Photo by Jobelle Smith
10:10pm - Hustle to get your stuff together because by now you are desperate to see your baby.
10:45 pm - Get back to the hotel and pick up your baby. Thank your mom and dad for being super cool and watching her all day.
11:30pm -Get to sleep, baby, daddy and mommy.
Start everything over again tommorrow.
Needless to say, Dave and I are pooped. We're actually in Richardson, Texas tonight performing ARide with Bob to a sold out house. It's cool to be back doing the play. But we're still exhausted. Next week we're basically off so the recuperation will take place then.
One thing before I go. I know this blog has been lacking in pictures. One reason is because Dave and I just didn't have the where-with-all to take many snaps during the tour. I think we took a total of three between us. Another reason is because the consolidation and uploading of pictures takes a little time; time that we haven't really been able to find. My next blog to-do is add pictures to previous entries and have a picture-full entry from the tour. Right now, the internet here in the hotel is being totally dumb, and not letting me use the add picture function...so stay tuned for pics soon!
Yesterday, the Washington Post ran a very cool piece in their Reliable Source column. Many thanks to Roxanne Roberts for writing the article, and to Patch Canada for hooking us up with Roxanne!
Not Much Sleeping at This Wheel
Debra and Michael McQueen with daughter Elizabeth and granddaugher Lisel. (Dave Sanger)
One day you're living a quiet life as a D.C. architect -- and suddenly you're a roadie. Mike McQueen and his wife, Debra, have left the suburbs of Washington to hit the road with Grammy-winning Western swing bandAsleep at the Wheel. Their daughter Elizabeth sings and plays guitar with the group, son-in-law David Sanger plays drums . . . and 8-week-old granddaughter Lisel Blossom is on her first road tour.
The McQueens jumped in when the band's tour with Willie Nelsonwas moved up from late spring to this month. The new family couldn't afford to hire a full-time nanny, so Grandpa volunteered to drive the "Baby Bus" -- a refitted Dodge cargo van -- from gig to gig, and Nana signed up for babysitting while the new parents performed on "Late Show With David Letterman," "Austin City Limits" and at live shows on the East Coast. (That's the new mom getting raves for her duet with Nelson.)
"My parents have always said they would continue to support me in my work," said Elizabeth, 31, who grew up in Columbia before launching a music career in Texas. "When I first got pregnant, I thought, 'That's it. I can't do music anymore. I can't travel.' "
Enter the Baby Bus. Her parents had never done road duty before, much less with an infant and a breastfeeding new mother, but were game to try. The bus has two seats in front, a special baby seat, a kitchenette, bathroom, and benches that convert to a bed. The men do most of the driving; the women take care of Lisel and sleep when they get a chance.
It helps that the baby is pretty calm and the in-laws all get along ..... but still. Too close for comfort? "It's actually been really good, because when we get to the next town, [the two couples] have separate hotel rooms," Elizabeth told us.
The two-week tour has gone so well that the entire family is headed back out next month. Elizabeth's dad is now a "part-time road dog, part-time consultant." And no -- they haven't met Willie yet. Can't wait for that chapter of the diary.
I have reduced my stress level, extended my life, prolonged my marriage and fallen in love and all in one day. By now you might have guessed that I bought a GPS. The Tom Tom One to be exact. Sure there was some controversy over which brand to get but my brother George steered me right. He said the Garmin’s were cool and all user-friendly but the update ease might not be totally there. With the Tom Tom you get the update capability but it takes a little more to manure around in the guts of the machine. But really there is one feature I wanted. My mom. To be accurate, what I wanted was my mom’s voice. I guess my brother was able to get her voice onto some server somewhere and I should be able to upload it to my Tom Tom. I haven’t done this yet but I am definitely going to try soon.
Now I wasn’t a big believer in these devices. My brother’s “Mr. T” talking GPS had given me some bad directions before (“Left turn, fool!” “Don’t give me no jibber jabber!”) and I didn’t like the idea of relying solely on the machine. But I am truly sold now. “Victoria” (our name for the machine because of the stock English woman’s voice) has removed the need for the navigator to poor over maps and iphones and printed Mapquest readouts. She guides us through the tough road transitions with style, panache’ and without EVER raising her voice. Elizabeth says she is the only woman from whom I will willingly take direction. Maybe so. She may the only person from whom I will take direction.
Elizabeth says, "I might be slightly jealous..."
There is a draw-back, for sure. When you rely on the GPS you actually have no idea where you are. Yes you reach your destination without worry or concern. You even know when you will arrive. But you have no idea how you got there. It is like constantly being driven around by a friend in a strange town. You always get where you need to go but could never get back there again.
I recommend a little analog reference every now and then but I am sticking with my new love: Victoria.
So, I think I've mentioned this before, but Willie Nelson has a profound effect on people. He's just got this hella strong positive energy emanating from him, and it makes any one watching him go positively crazy with glee. Hey, it happens to me every night.
I say this because the other night we were able to really witness Willie's effect on a large crowd. You see, most of our shows have been at large performing arts centers, or cool old theaters. If there is one thing that all these venues have in common, it's that they all have strict policies to reign in the audience. There is no dancing in the aisles and any rushing of the stage is reserved for the encore. Most places won't even let you stand up in your seat too long before a burly security guy comes and tells you to sit down. This has more or less kept the crowd wildness to a minimum. Willie does shake hands and sign autographs when he can at the end of the show but during the show things are pretty calm.
And then we played Williamston, NC, population 5200. The venue wasn't a theater, but rather...well I think it may have been some kind of horse arena type thing. It may host a Rodeo or two and definitely hosts horse shows (is there a name for those? I have no idea). The ground was covered in compact sand, rather than flooring. Seats were set up in front of the stage, and people could also sit in the bleachers on the side. Very different from the other places we've played.
But the real difference between the Williamston venue and the other theaters was the security. It may have been because they knew a bunch of the folks there, or because they're not full time security guys, or maybe they just didn't want to deny anyone the Willie experience--whatever the reason, these guys were way lax. They let the crowd run all over them.
And we got to see how Willie fans act when they stop being polite and start being real.
They go wild!
First off, people were up and out of their seats from moment one, taking pictures, trying to catch Willie's eye, dancing around. There was a little barrier between us and the crowd--a lane created for press photogs. I'm pretty sure without that we would have some attempts at climbing on stage. But people were getting as close as they could.
It was relatively calm at first. But as the show wore on the crowd kept getting more and more amped up. More and more people were out of their seats. Signs were held "we love you Willie!" And "You are on my bucket list"
Then the clothes items throwing started.
The first thing thrown was a hat. I saw the guy do it. He was standing right up at the barrier and seemed poised to leave and let someone else have his spot. Then a wellspring of excitement and happiness just seemed to grab hold of his spirit. He whipped his hat off of his head, let out a whoop of joy, and let fly his hat.
It was followed by a shirt, two more baseball hats and a multicolored striped bra. I think I saw the woman who threw the bra. She was pretty well endowed though, and there was no visible post-bra throwing droopage, which led me to conjecture that she either had on a bra underneath her thrown bra or had brought a bra specifically for throwing.
By the time Willie threw his cowboy hat into the audience the crowd was at near frenzy state. No one was hurt, but man, did people go for that hat.
The bandannas however, almost caused a riot. The first bandanna Willie thew didn't quite clear the barrier in front of the press lane. Consequently, you had people going both over and under the barrier to get it. One woman who felt the bandanna had been intended for her but wasn't able get it (she opted for over rather than under) was pissed! She yelled for another bandanna, and when Willie went to throw it, she climbed up on the barrier, stretching her body towards the stage. The poor security guy try to get her down, but she yelled at him, explaining in a not so polite manner that that was her bandanna! And her bandanna it became.
It was an awesome show, both musically and crowd watching wise. We really got to see the full effect of Mr. Nelson. It's a beautiful thing to watch in all it's unfettered glory. So often we keep a lid on our joy. We worry about what other people think. We stifle ourselves. But sometimes you get to watch Wilie. And Willie's vibe is such that you stop the tamping down and start the enjoyment. Especially if there aren't any security guys there bumming your groove.
My name tag for the Letterman show. Did you know my first name is Laura?
I’m sitting here in the back of the baby bus, one week into our adventure. I’m vaguely rested in a way that I’ve become accustomed to being rested. It’s not an eight to ten hours worth of sleep rested. It’s more of a couple hours in the hotel room, couple hours in the back of the baby bus kind of rested. But I will say I feel better than I have in a while. I can speak without pain. My sinuses are no longer a phlegm factory. I’m doing good, in an everything is relative kind of way.
Before I get into the verbiage section of the blog I’d like to hit you with a little video. First, here’s the story Michelle Valles did about the baby bus:
And here is the show we did on Letterman:
Both of these were digitized in HD and made uploaded to You Tube by my good friend and resident Apple guru Brian Bass at Armadillo Tech. Brian is an amazing guy, and I highly recommend Armadillo Tech to anyone who needs Apple help and support. He’ll take good care of you, I promise.
Letterman was awesome. I still kind of can’t believe we got to play that gig. It went down kind of like a dream. Come with me, to Monday February 16th…
First of all, let me send a shout out to two of the country's raddest presidents: the Great Emancipator Abraham Lincoln and our very first president George Washington! Guys, if it wasn’t for both of you, our trip to Letterman would have been way tougher. As it was we played Letterman on the day when the country celebrates y’alls birthdays by taking off work, which meant New York City was as easy navigate as I imagine Peoria, Illinois is. There were just a handful of cars on the street and a sprinkling of pedestrians. We were able to drive right in and be dropped of right in front of the Ed Sullivan Studio with no stress whatsoever. Thanks guys!
We found the buses on the side of studio. I heard a rumor, which I never confirmed, but I like to believe is true, that the city gave Letterman the street next to the studio. Like, Letterman owns the street. It’s the street where they do all those stunts where some guy dunks a basketball while jumping on a trampoline over 10 people. And two huge buses were able to park there no problem so I believe whoever it was who told me that rumor.
I immediately went with our bus driver, Mack Neal, into the theater to check out the scene. We of course went straight to the set and started taking pictures.
Dave (Sanger not Letterman) interviews me
You just don't turn down an opportunity to sit at the desk
Ruby Jane, Mack and Jobelle
Let me interject a little wardrobe advice here. You see the hat, scarf and coat I'm wearing. It ain't just a fashion thing. If you’re going to the Letterman show, whether to play or to watch, wear a coat. And a scarf. And a hat. And gloves wouldn’t be a bad idea. Dude, the Letterman set it COLD! Not cool mind you, but downright COLD. The number I kept hearing was 48 degrees, meaning that is the temperature of the Ed Sullivan studios at all time. 48 degrees!!! Everyone is alert at that temperature, for sure.
After we checked out the set I went up the dressing rooms where. No one was there, but I was able to take some pictures of the pictures on the wall and watch them rehearse that day’s show on the monitor. Pretty rad.
A picture on the wall of the dressing rooms at the Ed Sullivan Theater
Then, it was time to rehearse. Rehearsal was all for the camera's. The show is completely blocked before it's filmed, so we did the song a couple of times while the camera's figured out who they'd be focusing on. It was a little mind blowing, the whole deal.
The horns!
Willie, Ray and Jason figure it out
Now here’s where I tell you about my one regret of the day. I had to get some lunch, and I didn’t get it at the Hello Deli. I know, I know, I passed up a prime Rupert G meeting opportunity. But I wasn’t thinking, see! I was cold and sick and hungry, and I walked right past without so much as blinking an eye. Dave however did eat a Shaffer sandwich, (a breaded chicken cutlet) there so the family honor is somewhat salvaged.
Rupert G. Picture not by me, obviously. I found it on the interweb
Fast forward past my lunch of bagel and lox, and time spent reading OK magazine (Did you know that Miley Cyrus wears her sweat shirt off the shoulder!?) to right before the gig. I was offered the services of hair and makeup. I took them as I have minimal hair and makeup skills myself. John, the stylist, did a great blowout on my hair. At this point my voice as killing me, and I was trying to hold onto whatever scraps were left for the gig, so John and I didn’t do a lot of talking. I did however check out the pictures about his chair. The one that stuck with me was of him and Tom Cruise. “Man,” I thought, “I’m getting my hair done by someone who had touched Tom Cruise’s scalp. Cool”
I then went to get my makeup done by Janet. Janet, if you ever read this, I want to sincerely apologize for my behavior in your chair. Specifically for the massive and uncontrollable coughing fit that I had right when you were lining my lips. I tried, I really tried, to stem the tide of hackage. Instead I fear my out of control coughing coated you and all of your lovely makeup with my germy germs. I felt like I might die of embarrassment. I don’t think Drew Barrymore or Selma Hayek or Tom Crusie for that matter would ever have let it get that out of control. (Jumping on Oprah’s couch is one, thing, but this! How unprofessional could I be!?!) Thanks to John for finding me a lozenge. You really came through.
Sorry Janet. I really am.
I then went upstairs and waited with the rest of the band to get to signal to go on. Thinking we had plenty of time, I took a trip to the ladies room. While I was in the middle of, um, my business, I heard a familiar song. It was the Letterman band playing "Route 66."
“That’s interesting.” I thought, “They’re playing one of the Wheel’s signature songs.”
Then a millisecond later
“Holy shit! They’re playing one of the Wheels’s signature songs! That must mean we’re almost on.”
I then proceeded to run down six flights of stairs, in heels. No one in the band knew where I was (I could have sworn I told someone). Unprofessional move number 2 of the day! I had visions of me missing the gig, crying on the side of my stage, my tears ruining the wonderful makeup that Janet had risked her health to put on my face.
I made it with a little time to spare. They finished Route 66, then we all played "Boogie Back to Texas" and then we were on.
(See above video for what happened next)
Now, I don’t want to whine, but I will say one teensy little thing. Would it have killed them to give me one measly closeup? There. That’s the only time I’ll look this particular gift horse in the mouth. I mean, Dave got plenty of face time, so I’m happy.
So, I didn’t get any close-ups. It ain’t no thing. I did employ what is known in the band as the Jon Mitchell technique of television appearance. Jon was the bass player for the Wheel in the eighties and since bass players typically get overlooked, he had a surefire way to get on camera. He would just move himself and his upright bass into the shot. Easy as that. I tried my best to keep an eye on the cameras and try to pop in where I could , and I was slightly successful. Next time I’ll be more practiced.
We played one song, a couple or three minutes long, and then it was over. Quick as that. Which is why I said it was like a dream. The actual gig was over almost as soon as it started. And then we were off to the next adventure.
The rest of that night, and the next day were brutal. We had to get to Roanoke, VA for the next gig, about 7 to 8 hours away. We had decided that my folks and Lisel would drive halfway to a hotel near the BWI train station. Meanwhile Dave and I would hop an 8 o’clock Amtrak down to BWI. It was a three hour ride, so we got in about 11. We watched the Letterman show then went to bed and got back up at 5, and got on the road for Virginia.
I felt so bad by the time we got into Roanoke that I decided it was time to break bad and try to get some medicines. I finally had to be honest with myself. This thing was not going to go away on it’s own. We secured some antibiotics and some Emergen-C, and I feel much better, thank you. Between that and rest I think I’m on the upswing.
Lesson learned: Nip all illness in the bud on the road. Do not let it go so long. Please McQueen!
Dude! Tonight we're doing the Late show with David Letterman. Needless to say, I'm super excited, seeing as how this is my first time to petform on a late night show...and hello! It's Letterman!
Ok, enough exclamation points.
I lied! We're doing Letterman!!!!
I'm still sick with a capital ICK. Between the cold and the schedule, this crud is sticking around. But now that we're southward bound, I hope to improve.
The only upside of being sick is that I was able to. Lay around with Lisel for the last couple of days. Is there anything better than hanging out with her? In a word. No.
Despite the Ick, the last two nights have been a blast. We played in Utica on Saturday. I laid low in the hotel room most of the day, but I was really charmed by Utica on the way to the gig. It had that lovely old East Coast quaintness to it. I love Texas, but that kind of creaky old house with cabdels in the window vibe is hard to find in the Lone Star State.
It was a sweet Valentine's day show. The crowd was exceptionally rad, and the band definitely was riding that energy. It was the kind of show that is so fun that flies past you. One minute you opening with Miles of Texas, and then suddenly the show is done and Willie is signing bandanas and old LP's by the side of the stage. The most goosebumpy moment was when Willie played the song Valentine.
Last night in Albany was awesome too. The crowd rocked, and Willie brought out a lot of new stuff, most notably some Hank Williams tunes--Hey Good Lookin', Move it on Over and one more that I'm having trouble remembering. (blame it on the phlem factory inside of me. It's using all my resources.). He was very generous with solos last night too, which meant everyone got to play slot. A plus when every player on stage rocks.
And now I'm off to nap. I have to be rested for Letterman:)
Before I go though, I recommend that you take alook at The Willie and the Wheel site. They've posted lots of cool reviews, including a piece from the Wall Street Journal.
Well, I happened. Last night I lost my voice. Onstage. I had just enough in me to get through my duet with Willie. I think I used the three notes I had left to full effect, but after the song my pipes were gone, solid gone.
This has happened before, and I'm sure it will happen again. My voice is the first thing to go when I get run down. I think my body kind of psyched itself out. We're just not used to the cold, my body and me. And we keep going to colder and colder places. Red Bank was kind of chilly, Wilkes Barre and Lancaster were officially frigid, and Utica..well, you can see for youself. This is my morning view out of the back of the baby bus:
Baby it's friggin freazing out there!
Luckily, Floyd Domino was around to help me out. He was going to dinner with his friend Will Campbell, whose wife Sarah owns an herbal products store called Herbs from the Labyrinth. Will and Floyd procured me a neti pot, *and* neti pot salt. (For those of you who don't know, a neti pot is a little pot you use to pour warm salt water through your nose. It's way awsomer than it sounds, and is the best preventative measure against colds and allergies that I have ever used. Of course, I haven't been using it lately, hence this crud I have). The glorious neti has cleared me out! I hope I'll have enough voice for the show tonight, and am praying I'll be better by tommorrow.
Which is why I'm off to nap with Lisel!
But before we go, check out these great and random pics of the fam on the road:
Our good friend Michelle Valles, who co-anchors their morning show with Fred Cantu, did an amazing story on Miss Lisel Blossom and our baby bus adventure. We saw it and were both in tears by the end! If you too would like to cry tears of happiness, you can check it out on the KEYE site
We think the story is amazing, and can't to show it to Lisel when she's older. It is definitely going in the digital scrapbook.
I'll write more later, but I'm still feeling under the weather. I mean, I feel better, but my throat is really giving me problems. I was dangerously close to losing my voice on stage last night, due to me not resting before the gig and yacking continuously instead. My plan today is to do soundcheck, and then sleep until getting ready time. We'll see if that works.
The rest of the show last night was excellent. The Wilkes Barre crwowd was rowdy and ready to rock. There was a lot of dancing in the aisles, which led to many appearances by the frustrated security guards. At the end one chick even climbed up on stage. It's the Willie effect. It cannot be denied.
You know, before we made this trip my biggest worry about bringing my baby on the road was that she would pick up some in of bug and get sick. She’s so new to the world outside the womb, and her immune system is still getting up to speed. The plane ride worried me the most. After all, my amazing parents are out here with us, and consequenlty we don’t have to take our little one out into crowds much. She’s either in the baby bus or the hotel, all pretty controlled environments. But the airports and the planes, well those are filled with people, people who carry germs and viruses and all manner of icky icky make baby sicky things. So when we were in the airport environments we took some precautions. Check it out:
There's a baby under there
I was about to write something stupid like “So far, so good,” but then I realized only an idiot who wanted their baby to catch something on the road would write that. So I won’t write that, and I didn’t write it, and I hope that fate will take note that I did no tempting whatsoever.
What I will say is that while I was so concerned about my daughter getting sick, it never once occurred to me that I could pick up some icky buggy. So, of course, yesterday morning I woke up with a sore throat and an aching body.
It makes sense. I haven’t had an uninterrupted nights sleep in six and a half weeks. I’ve been trying to eat right, but um, well, you know how that goes. I haven’t been exercising, though I plan on starting any day now! And I went from the lovely Austin “winter” with it’s 70 degree days, to the actual winter of the East Coast. My body finally said, “Enough!”
And of course, I got sick on the first day of the tour, aka the longest day with the longest rehearsal. Usually we won’t need to be at the venue for soundcheck until 4pm. But since yesterday was our first show, we had to get there at 12:30pm. No lollygagging around the hotel room for mommy. I actually had planned on spending the day in a hotel room hang with my husband and my daughter. Don’t get me wrong, I totally understood the need to tweak the show, but I was sad about the prospect of spending 12 hours away from my baby. We could have brought her to the venue, but it was pretty far from the hotel, and we didn’t know if we would have time to get her back to the grandparents before the show.
We started out soundcheck at about 2:30pm and went until 5pm. Here are a couple of pictures:
I was so out of it, that these were all I took. Jobelle Smith, Ruby Jane’s mom, took a ton of pics. You can check out the photos and Ruby Jane’s blog here! http://www.myspace.com/rubyjanesmith
Not to self, next time I’m at a super long soundcheck, and I feel like hammered dog poop, I will make sure to have a chair available. As addled and achy as I was yesterday, I didn’t even consider the sit down option until 4:55pm.
At the end of the soundcheck, everything hurt – my throat, my feet, my legs, my brain. I hobbled upstairs to do my post soundcheck pump (did I mention we’re breastfeeding out here? More on that later), grabbed some food at catering, and then hightailed it to the baby bus to take a nap.
It’s a glorious thing, the baby bus. It’s our own little rolling fortress of solitude. Ruby Jane wasn’t feeling so hot either, so she an I racked out for an hour before the show. No noise, no distractions, just sleep. Goooo baby bus!
The nap made all the difference. I don’t know if I would have made it through the show without it. As it was I had just enough energy to make it through the two hour show.
And what a show it was. The band kicked ass. We started with some Asleep at the Wheel tunes, which were so much fun. I’m loving the addition of the second fiddle and the horns. We’re a big band that sounds like, well, a big band.
And then Willie came out.
I tell you what, there is nothing like watching a crowd transform when Willie Nelson comes out on stage. It’s almost like watching people react to a religious figure, or Barack Obama. I mean, they were digging on the Wheel. But when they saw Willie, it was like their souls got filled up with happiness and delight. It shot them out of their seats, made them scream and holler with glee. He just has that effect on people. He makes people feel good about feeling good.
And he’s an amazing performer. As a member of the band you just watch and learn. We had a set list, a set list that he had helped come up with. But he came out, read the crowd, and started changing it up right off the bat. Of course, his choices were the right ones.
We played some of his tunes, then blazed through the Willie and the Wheel set. Like I said, his vocal styling really bring a lot to those songs. Then we returned to his hits. He’s got so many! I think the crowd must have gotten hoarse from singing along.
After the last song was played, we rocked a version of Jumping at the Woodside while Willie met with fans. A crowd had gathered at the front of the stage. People had CD’s and shirts and bandana and belts that they wanted signed. Most people just wanted to touch Willie, and tell him they loved him, or thank him for playing. He went from one side of the stage to the other, handing out a little love to everyone.
At the end of the night I was exhausted and ecstatic, and ready to see our baby! We hurried back to the hotel and picked her up from the grandparents. The we all snuggled in bed and went to sleep, a happy, tired, slightly sicky but feeling better family on the road.
It is 8:35 in Redbank New Jersey. All five of us are here, safely in the hotel. It's happening, this baby bus adventure. It's actually happening
Two of us drove 36 hours or so straight from Austin to New Jersey.Those two, the two men, Dave and my Dad, are extremely tired. I'd ask Dave to write an entry about his experience if I was a mean blog obesessed meany, but I won't. Instead I asked him for a descriptive haiku of the trip. Here's what he gave me.
Many miles no stop So hungry we ate Hardees should have though that through
I think that's a pretty good description of the long haul experience.
Mom and Lisel and me had the "Baby's First Flight Experience." My amazing sister Katherine got up way before she needed to to pick us up and shepherd us to the airport. And she was nice enough to take this picture. Here's us at 6:30 in the morning.
We look pretty positive don't we. That's because we hadn't really thought through all it takes to travel with a baby. Dude! Getting through security was an all day task. In addition to the partial disrobing the TSA requires of all of us, we were also required to remove the baby from the carrier that we are required by law to put her in if we want to transport her in a car. Then we had to break down her snap in stroller thingy, and put everything through the X-Ray machine, and retrieve it all, the redress ourselves and secure the little one. Phew! I was so happy to have my Mom there. Two hands wouldn't have been enough.
And dude, next time, I'm taking the bare minimum required to get me to the next destination. Baby stuff and a diaper bag. That's it. Streamlined.
I have to say though that I have never been treated better in airport. The usually surly TSA employees were positively, well positive. And helpful! They explained what we needed to do, and patiently waited while we fumbled through our first attempt. They're usually such meanies. Call it baby magic.
The airline employees were especially sweet (though they're usually pretty nice on Southwest). Our flight attendant, Naomi tried to hook the carseat into the plane seat but it was a no go, so I got to hold Lisel during the whole flight.
Even the other passengers were nice, which I didn't expect. I thought no one liked the combination of planes and babies, but people actually seemed to dig the tiny baby thing. Unexpected.
Lisel spent the first half of the flight snoozing, and the second half sleepily feeding. I was pretty delightful. No screaming, which was a plus, and lots of good baby holding time. And I got caught up on my celebrity gossip courtesy of OK Magazine. It was a great first flight.
The guys picked us up at the airport, and we drove a couple of hours to Eatontown New Jersey. And now, here we are. I'm tired, Dave is tired, and tommorrow we have the first show of the tour. So I have to get to bed now. Check out this picture. I now feel like Lisel looks.
So, the time is almost here. We're about to put the theory to practice. We're gonna take the baby bus on the road. Dave and Dad leave Monday to drive said baby bus to the East Coast. (I guess now I could technically say Dad and Dad couldn't I). It's about a 27 hour drive, and they're manning up and driving straight through. I'd like to say for the record that *I* would have no problem with a non-stop trip in the baby bus from Austin to Philly, but Lisel and my mom are new to the road game, and in the interest of not upsetting either one of them, we're flying up on Tuesday and meeting the boys. I just needed to say that, mostly for me, to remind myself that depite my mommyhood, I am in fact a hardened road dog
Here are some photos of the short trip we took the other day in the baby bus. It was a kick the tires kind of trip, where we learned a little something about the Onan generator, and a little something about ourselves.
Everybody's happy in the Baby Bus
Dave and I have been busy making lists, trying to figure out what we'll need to make this family and baby on the road thing work. I think we'll be pretty prepared, though we've never gone on any trip of any length without one of us slapping our heads and uttering the following words:
"Damn! you know what? I totally forgot (insert very necessary and totally un-findable-on-the-road item here).
I forsee us saying this many, many time, because hey, we've never done this before. Really, we've only ever packed for ourselves. We've *never* packed for a little bean whose main form of communication is crying, and whose main concerns are eating and pooping. She's not going to be able to remind of, well, anything. Luckily, they sell baby stuff all along the highways and byways of this great country of ours. And we've got the iphone GPS app, so I fell secure.
I mean, I feel pretty secure. Now that we actually have a child, I realize how audacious our plan actually is. Are we nuts to take an infant on the road? We don't know the first thing about child rearing, must less mobile child rearing. I sometimes catch myself asking myself what myself was thinking.
Which is why I must send another shout out to my parents. The truth is that we couldn't do at all this without their willingness to leap far outside of their comfort zones and embark on this adventure with us. Thanks Mom and Dad. You both rock to the max.
And thanks to Dave's folks for sending us the UV light sanitizing travel wands. They've thought ahead help us combat the inevitable funk that one finds on the road. I plan on waving them around fairy godmother-sytle. I hope to be known as bacteria's worst enemy.
I other news, we spent the last two days rehearsing for the shows. These were marathon 6 and half hour rehearsals, but I'm not complaining because it sounds amazing! It's the regular Wheel plus John Doyle on clarinet and sax, Shamar Allen on trumpet and trombone, Ruby Jane Smith on additional fiddle, Floyd Domino on piano, Kevin Smith on bass and, of course, Willie. Playing the music, and listening to the people around me play it is sheer joy. The tour is going to be, as they say, a blast.
Here are a couple of pics from the rehearsal. The only shot I got of Willie was of the back of hs head, due to where I was set up.You have to love the back of Willie's head.
The back of Willie's head, as promised
John Doyle rocks the licorice stick
Kevin Smith and Eddie Rivers share a moment
Ray and Jason get down
Ladies and gentlemen Miss Ruby Jane Smith!!!
Tonight we have a show at Antone's from 7-8:30pm to run through the tunes and make sure we're all show ready. Dude, we're ready. I'm ready. Let's take this show on the road!
We are in Key Largo right now. Elizabeth and Lisel are still at home getting ready for the Willie tour but the rest of the band flew down here yesterday. We are playing a private party for some very nice people who have seen us in Steamboat Springs, CO. We play up there every summer as part of their music series.
We are at a resort here that is part vacation destination and part country club. It sits right on the water and I can see a big yacht and a lagoon and some palapas from my window. This resort has been described to us as the place where you buy your fourth home. I’ll try to remember that when my schooner comes in.
When your fourth home is a yacht!
They don’t do money here. For those of you who have not done a lot of country club hangin’, this is not unusual. Money is so…well… common. Those little plastic charge cards are so much cleaner. And they don’t want YOUR credit card. That is on file at the office. They only take the club’s card. All of this really prevents the rest of the world from enjoying the amenities. I think the guard booth and the gate helps do that too.
And in case you didn’t read the “welcome” packet, there is a dress code here. Unfortunately for me it does not approve of any of the clothes I have. In the restaurants, no denim is allowed and please, only collared shirts. Now I’ve never been a big fan of dress codes so maybe I’m biased. They seem to be the easiest way to squeeze life out of people. Coats are required here for dining in the nice restaurant. I’m not sure what the point of making people wear jackets to dine in the tropics but I’m sure there is one. Frankly I like to sit down to a nice meal in my wife-beater and some gym shorts, but that’s just me.
And once you’ve eaten (I managed to slip into the breakfast in my jeans and gig shirt, but lunch will be verboten in this outfit) they hand you a bill with the gratuity added. 15%. It should be a law that people who make more than 100 K per year should have to tip 20%. Geez.
And the rooms are super sweet (or is that suite) but do I really need a flat screen T.V. in the bathroom? Will I miss something important on Fox News during my shower? And why do they have turn-down service? Sometimes I just don’t get the good life. Everything here is designed to make you feel as if the rest of the world, the world that made this possible, doesn’t exist or, at the very least, not worthy of hanging out with the world of priviledge.
The view from my room
Well at least the internet is free. I get to post this for no charge.
Tonight Miss Lisel Blossom will be featured in a story on the KEYE 5 o'clock news about her soon to be adventures on the baby bus. Michelle Valles and totally awesome cameraman Ben came to the house and interviewed Lisel, Mom and Dad about their plans and schemes for traveling the country. For those of you in town, I hope you can check it out. For those of you who don't get KEYE, I'll definitely post a link to the show later today!
I don't want to brag, but she was especially good during the interview. No red light fever for this baby!
So for those keeping score, this is how one goes about witnessing a historical event. In most cases it is not known that the event one is witnessing is historical but there are rare instances when you can actually plan on seeing history made and the inauguration of the 44th President of the Good Ol’ U.S. of A. was just such and event.
The set up was perfect. The band had been flown up to Washington to play the Black Tie And Boots Ball put on by the Texas Society. This was my third time playing this ball (two for the W. Bush inaugurations) so I knew what to expect. Lots of people wearing lots of tuxedos listing to lots of music and drinking lots of booze. All in all these parties are fun but not terribly different from events we play throughout the year. The big difference is that the following day there is always an inauguration and, to be perfectly honest, I never had much of a desire to see one before. Not so this time.
Elizabeth, Floyd Domino (who would be on this gig) and I had started planning our assault on the Mall a month prior. Floyd had researched our escape route and purchased train tickets from Union Station to BWI airport a month before the event. I had purchased the metro tickets on the 19th. We were savvy travelers making sure we had planned accordingly…or so we thought.
As the date approached news of what to expect started trickling in. Four million people would be in attendance. Make that five million. Two percent of America would be squeezed into a narrow strip of earth in our nation’s capitol. Only a mad man would go there willingly. It was a fool’s errand. A one-way trip into a logistical quagmire!!!!!
Elizabeth, who had said that there was nothing on Earth that could keep her from the festivities, grew less impassioned as the time grew nearer. She had, after all, given birth to our daughter on the 27th of December and I think the prospect of flying with a newborn or leaving her for three days seemed less and less reasonable or desirable. It was with mixed emotions that she bowed out of the trip entirely. Only Floyd and I remained.
Floyd Domino, among his other accomplishments attended the Woodstock Festival. “It sucked,” he has beed heard to say, “but I was THERE.” This would be our motto. It might suck but, by gum, we would be THERE.
“What about the other band members?” you ask. “Why are they not going to attend the ceremony with you?” Well, not all musicians are created equal and the bunch I travel with had no desire at all to live this moment of history anywhere but in a hotel room. As a matter of fact after we arrived in D.C. their attitude became one of gamblers betting against a horse. “You’ll never make it to the train.” “This guy who lives here says there is NO WAY you’ll get out of there.” “You’re big boys. You’ve got credit cards.” These were the words of encouragement we heard from our fellows. And to be honest, I started doubting the plan myself. The plan was this: We get up early, take the free shuttle to the metro where we board a train that will get us close to the Mall. We find a place to view the festivities from a jumbotron that will afford us an easy exit. Once the “prez” was sworn in we would walk to Union Station in time to catch our 1:06 pm train, which would easily get us to BWI with enough time to catch our 3:30 PM flight. But as we acquainted ourselves with the lay of the land, and with the words of the nay-sayers ringing in my ears, this plan started looking more and more flawed.
There were too many people, too many security stations and a big old parade route standing exactly between us and our destination. It seemed like a fool-proof plan from the warmth and security of Austin but once we started checking things out I started getting cold feet. No really. Freezing feet.
Floyd and I met at 5 AM and got a little nosh to start us out. Then onto the shuttle to the metro. No problems so far. No people either. Then as we got closer to L’Enfant Plaza Station we started meeting our fellow revelers. Thousands of them. Packed into the train and then the station. At 6am! There was something unknown going on at the exit of the station which kept these thousands from leaving the station. Trapped like rats. Then something gave way and we all started exiting. I think the problem was that the escalators weren’t working because we all had to walk up the 3 or 4 flights of escalator steps to the sound of a woman’s bull-horn-amplified voice yelling “Let’s go people. Keep Moving. Hussle!” (I kid you not. She really said that). And there were little old ladies there. It was 100 heart attacks waiting to happen. At this point I started wondering how many of my fellow Americans would surely perish from this Earth on January 20th 2009. But we kept moving, by God.
From there it was a short walk to the Mall but the temperature started coming into play now. F-f-f-f-f-freeezing. I’m glad I listened to Elizabeth and took the big coat. My first instinct was to go light and that would have been my quick undoing. Score one for the Mrs. We got to our pre-planned jumbotron after a quick morning hot dog (nothing says celebration like a hot dog). Floyd opted for the half-smoke. I guess it’s a local delicacy or something. I think Barack had enjoyed one on TV just days earlier so Floyd felt obliged to try one. Seemed like a big hot dog to me.
So there we were. On the Mall, in front of our giant TV, meeting our neighbors from New Jersey and Arkansas, freezing to death and reading announcements on how to avoid frostbite. History, baby. It was then I started sweating our exit strategy.
According to the map provided by my pal Gary via the Washing Post standing between us and Union Station were at least two security checkpoints and the presidential parade route. There were designated crossings across Pennsylvania Ave. but the notes said they had been closed in past parades and Constitution Ave was being used as the parade staging ground. Talk about “Can’t get there from here.” So as the Mall really starts filling up and the jumbos play the concert from the Lincoln Memorial from two days earlier, I start to panic a bit.
And let’s talk about that concert. Josh Groban? Didn’t Dylan endorse this guy? Where was he? And why is Garth Brooks the only rep from the country music world? Was Willie busy? He got three songs and Stevie Wonder got one. What’s up with that? And for those of you who think you know the American public, here’s one for you: When Garth sang “Shout” (a minor hit for the Isleys but a major hit for Otis Day) the crowd erupted! And I’m talking at least 50% African Americans out there rocking out to a hick from Yukon, OK. No one else got that kind of rise. That goofball with his cowboy hat still knows what the friends and neighbors want. Maybe he should run for President…forget I said that.
So the show finally starts and we are now subjected to the sound man from hell. They’ve got the mics on the different cameras set to different levels so the announcer is one volume and the the dignitaries arriving are ten times as loud. I wouldn’t have been surprised if all 1.5 million of us on the Mall would have heard the senior member of the ways and means committee lean over and strike a deal with minority whip. I could hear Clarence Thomas’ robes russle. Those mics were cranked.
In between playing “guess the dude on the screen” (we did not have any commentators on our T.V.s) I’m starting to wonder if we should leave for the station before the swearing in. If we leave at noon then we have exactly one hour to walk what appears to be 2.5 miles. We had decided to walk around the Capitol building to get to Union Station but would there be security between us and it? Crowds? Demonstrating Republicans? Floyd tried to calm me. And I needed to be calmed.
One thing about Floyd you may not know, other than being one of the best pianists on the whole friggin’ planet, is he is also a bit of a Forest Gump when it comes to big events. Floyd was not only at Woodstock, but he also attended Monterey Pop, he’s been to NBA championship games, he saw Tommy Tune read a review (that’s a good story, I promise). And this was going to be one more biggie for him. And here I was suggesting we leave before the swearing in. I deserved to be slapped and chastised. But he didn’t do that. He calmed me and assured me we would make it but he explained to me that to miss the moment was a crime against intrepid travel. How true. How true. I would stay and damn the torpedoes (and the spousal doghouse I would be in if I missed the plane).
At 11:30 we eased our way out of the middle of the crowd toward our exit. On my way to the porta potty I saw some park rangers and asked who the people were standing a block off the Mall. “Those are people waiting to get in.” he said. I was looking at people standing a block away from a place where all you could see was a jumbotron. This was really getting crowded.
And there we stood with one million of our closest friends and saw Joe Biden get sworn in, Yo Yo Ma and company play a beautiful Shaker hymn and Aretha Franklin sing the most memorable “Let Freedom Ring” I have ever heard. Then it was time. And the crowd, that massive crowd, was completely hushed as Barack Obama took the oath of office. Then they erupted.
Check out the movie
Then we had to haul ass and haul ass we did. Our route took us parallel to the Mall and it was a little like leaving the game early and hearing the crowd roar from the parking lot but there would be time to hear the speech later. We were trucking along E street, under the Mall via the 3rd St. tunnel, up to Massachusetts Ave. and up to the train station. No security, very light crowds and we made it there just as the train was boarding. Faces burning with the cold, feet just thawed out and very tired muscles but we made it. It was then on to the airport and then home.
Sure it was cold and whipped my butt but it was an awesome and totally memorable day. And we were THERE!
After going to the doctors office and not having contractions, I got sent home. Luckily, the contractions came back in a regular way. It felt good knowing I was truly in labor.
We labored at home for a couple more hours. It was a sweet time, filled with West Wings, words of love and some cramping pain. At one point my parents and sister came by. I was surprised at how easy it was to hang while being in labor. You see, up until I actually went into labor, my only reference for the experience had been the movies. So I thought it would go down a little like this…
1) My water would break, and I would know it had broken because it would exit my body in a monstrous gush. At which point I would look at calmly at Dave and say “It’s time.”
2) Dave would run around the house in a total panic, grab our overnight bag and other birth related things, pack them up in the car and drive towards the hospital…forgetting me in the process. He would drive back to the house and hustle me into the car.
3) At this point I would be doing some kind of crazy Lamaze breathing to quell the intense pain I was feeling. Dave would try to comfort me at which point I would curse him
4) We’d run into the hospital, and almost immediately I’d be in a hospital bed, legs in stirrups, still breathing all Lamaze-like (he-he-he-hoooo), every once in a while screaming something at Dave like “You got me into this!!!! Damn you!!!”
5) A baby would be born. We would both cry.
Really the only thing that went down like the movies was that last part. Everything else was different. In fact, the first 18 hours of labor were kind of a breeze.
Like I said, my folks and my sister came by, and we talked and laughed. Every once in a while I’d check out to get through a contraction, and then it was back to visiting.
Laboring and Laughing
After they left, we called Debra Day, the midwife who we hired to help us with labor support, to come over. She was awesome. She checked the baby’s heartbeat, and we talked about whether or not we should go to the hospital. Her advice was to head down there before the contractions got too intense. That way we could check in and make the space our own before the real poop went down. Excellent advice.
At this point, I had been laboring for about 12 hours. The pain was pretty dealable. We went to the hospital and got checked in, and for the next six hours or so we climbed the labor hill slowly but steadily. The pain increased a little bit at a time, and the time in between the contractions was actually pretty fun.
Fun you say? Well, we had decided to go drug free on this adventure. And we also decided to let it happen pretty naturally. Luckily, the doctor who delivered us was down with that plan so there was no inducing, no early breaking of the water. Consequently, it was slow and steady build.
In between contractions I was pretty much me. I could chat with Debra and Dave. Debra also encouraged Dave and I to experience the labor as a couple, so periodically she would us alone in the room. We put on some music --a little Getz and Gilberto, some Marley, lots of Ray Charles. At one point even Dave put on the Paul Anka hit “Having My Baby” (What a lovely way of sayin' What you're thinkin' of me!). We dimmed the lights and danced through the contractions. It was fun.
That’s one thing no one really tells you, That labor can be fun.
And then the doctor broke my water…
Tomorrow. The most pain I’ve ever felt, and the happiest I’ve ever been!
At 8:30am, we figured it was time to let the doctor know what was up. I knew it wasn’t time to go to the hospital but maybe they would want know. Or maybe I should say, I wanted to tell them. We had been to the birth class, read the pamphlet, studied the book, but still when the rubber hit the road, we weren’t totally sure of protocol. So we called the doctor, fully expecting them to tell us to stay home and keep breathing.
But they asked us to come in.
Now, I’ll admit, I can be a bit of a hypochondriac. And during the course of my pregnancy, I had made more than a few false alarm type visits to the doctor’s office. It was those damn pregnancy books. Every time I read about some kind of problem that I could potentially expect when I was expecting it would send me into a worry tailspin and more often than not make me put in a call to the doctor.
Four months into the pregnancy we renamed this tragedy of a book and threw it away!
And on Christmas Eve I had an episode where I thought maybe my water had broken. So I went to the hospital. And got totally checked in and totally checked out. And it was a false alarm. I was pretty damn embarrassed. So embarrased that I swore Dave to secrecy. No one, not even my family, was going to know what a spazz I could be.
Which is all to say that when we went to the doctor’s office I was more than a little nervous. I mean, maybe I wasn’t in labor. Maybe I was just convincing myself that I was feeling regular pains, which I assumed to be labor. Maybe I was in a self-induced state of wishful thinking labor. With me, anything was possible.
And sure enough, I got to the doctor’s office and the contractions slowed down. I was a little worried, but not too worried, since I was still actually having contractions.
But then they took me to a tiny room, sat me down in a La-Z-Boy and hooked me up to a monitor that measured my contractions and the baby’s heartbeat. And for a good half hour I didn’t have one contraction.
Not a one.
I watched the paper printout spilling out of the machine. My line, the line that should have been all hills of contractions and valleys of the time in between was straight. I wanted Colorado and all I was getting was Kansas.
I tried to take my mind off of the fact that I quite possibly had psyched myself into some kind of false labor state. I had Dave read to me from a frivolous female oriented magazine about some blonde starlet I’d never really seen before. I cracked jokes and apologized to the nurses. I prayed secretly and silently to any and all higher powers out there to please make this be the real thing. And still nothing happened.
Dave and I then came up with the official diagnosis of shy uterus syndrome. Sometimes, your organs just get stage fright. Mine certainly did. Dave Say: Certainly everyone has experienced – or in my case, had a “very good friend” whose experienced – less than forthcoming bowels or a timid bladder. Right? My uterus was just not going to go out there and show the doctors what she could do. She stayed backstage while the cameras were on.
Luckily, as soon as I got up from the chair I had a massive contraction that almost buckled my knees out from under me. I was really in labor! Woo-hoo! For once, it wasn’t a false alarm
Tommorrow: Going to the Hospital and we’re gonna have a baby
Don't we look happy?
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