Marie-Pierre writes:

Isabel’s graduation was so much fun, and I was so proud of my daughter.  Not only was she the student speaker, there was an actual line of friends waiting to have their picture taken with her.  We celebrated in grand style with lunch and a party at Isabel’s apartment.

I had forgotten how lively student parties are, how the crowd flocks in the general direction of food and all things alcoholic.  There was plenty.  Stan and I had made a run at the grocery store and the liquor store, happily piling loads of crackers, cheese, sausage, salsas, dips, beer, beer, more beer and one marvelous bottle of whiskey.  We had to call and get help to carry the loot up two flights of stairs to the apartment.  It was well worth the effort.

We stayed much longer than anticipated, meeting all of Isabel’s friends, listening to their plans for a bright future, their views of the world.  Most guests seemed intent on eating, drinking, talking and texting at the same time.  In fact, holding a cell phone was “de rigueur”.

I did a very decent job at making a couple of instant Facebook friends.  I congratulated just about everybody on their new degree even though some of them were not graduating this May.  It didn’t matter.  The food was good, the company joyous.  Hope and happiness abounded.

Stan writes:

I have distinct memories in life when I was younger and my parents (or older friends with money) would come to the rescue of with some form of the party patrol.  That was at a time when I was a student and my budget was always pretty well depleted.

Well MP and I had a chance to repay the universe these past two weekends with both our daughters graduating ……… Kelsey graduated TCU and Isabel graduated graduate school at UT.   This past weekend was our latest party patrol adventure.  Isabel was graduating at 11….then lunch …..then a party at her apartment later that night.  MP and I ducked away in the late afternoon for a nap then it was on to HEB and the liquor store.  Isabel had shared with us a few of the “that would be great” items on a list for the liquor store.  Knowing she was on her college budget, we took care of things.

All the goodies were greatly appreciated and it was really funny to hear some of her friends when they came to the food table.  They said “wow, this is great… Texas (Isabel’s nickname) never has anything but chips”……well, duh….that’s what college students buy on a budget.  But today was different and Isabel had a great food table with lots on it.  With a steady stream of her friends coming, the food, beer, and liquor slowly disappeared.  I was really happy that we could make this a special time for her.

So now the time is yours Isabel and Kelsey, to go out in the world and find your way and earn your money so when the circle comes back around and it is your time to be the party patrol……you will have been taught well…….just remember, when you think one is enough ….buy three……congrats to both of our graduates.

Marie-Pierre writes:

I am instagramming everything these days: my desk, the night table, Stan, my kids, random people at Kelsey’s graduation, Dairy Queen jalitos, whatever… My favorite instagram is the lone little cloud I snapped from the car window on the way to Fort Worth.  I am secretly  instagramming pictures of my desk drawer at work.  It’s really helping with boring conference calls.  And it’s so satisfying.  I love trying ALL the filters every time.

Instagram is supposed to bring back the old Polaroid look: square pics, blue or yellow overexposure and the occasional over-contrast.  It’s all a big pretend game of course.  My old Polaroid never let me play with a whole bunch of options the way instagram does and it’s a little funny to try and make digital pictures as if they were snapped in the 80′s but the results can be surprisingly.

As I was writing these words, Stan came up to play his latest song.  I can’t render the feeling of his guitar notes filling my bedroom but here is a pic but here is an instagram of tonight.
Enjoy.

Stan writes:

There is a familiar pattern in our relationship with new gear, new software, or anything new for that matter.  I am a gear dude, so I always am thinking of gear that I can give to MP to make her life easier or to help her (yes loving co dependence at its best).  Well this past week, I turned her on to Instagram for her Iphone.  She tries to claim it was Andy that told her…..but I know better.

The pattern is that at first she says……I don’t need it.  Something more to learn, what would I use it for anyway …..and the old familiar……I don’t know how to work this anyway……waste of time.  What I have found out that she needs a learning curve.  This is not an intelligence thing, believe me, this is a change thing.  MP has always been first of class and when that moment comes when she is not…….then whatever piece of gear is……”alright”.

Well she turned the corner and every single sign we past of the way home, flowers in the road, Andy leaning on a table, the fried jalepenos at Dairy Queen, and many more subject were now in the camera of MP.  That is the second step……once mastered, this is the greatest invention since sliced bread.

I know how creative MP is so this was a lock…….being able to alter all photos with neat filters to see things differently…..need I say more.

Well all I can say, is if you are near MP in the near future there is a 50/50 chance you photo will be taken and a 100% chance that Instagram will touch that photo……and if you are lucky, you will make it on her home page on Facebook……and if you are REALLY lucky you will be the fodder for one of her upcoming graphic novels…….just sayin.

So I just learned when I went on Facebook today that MP had taken her birthday off of Facebook so she would not get all the well wishes.  I chose not to wish her happy birthday on line as this year she is in seclusion about her birthday.

This kind of short circuits me because I love birthdays, saying hello each week to whomever pops up on Facebook that I know and when it is someone I know well, I will call, text or write them.  I conversely love getting all the attention on my birthday, definitely feeding the part of me that wants to be seen.

MP did not want to be seen this year.  So I informed her that I was heading ahead with my plans and would love and honor her anyway.  See I know that secretly she loves to be honored just like us all, and she loved that fact that both her kids came over Sunday to celebrate with her as we all went to a movie and dinner.  She tried to act grumpy but she can never be grumpy when her kids are loving on her.  Isabel even drove in from Austin to be with her.  Make no mistake, behind all this grumpiness is a mom who loves that her kids and boyfriend love her enough to celebrate her being brought in this world.

Hopefully this is just a mid life deal and next year we can dispense with all the crankiness and grumpy birthday stuff and get back to the celebration of life birthdays are intended for.  I am glad she was born and I am glad she is a Taurus……as an air sign I need that grounding relationship.  And what I want her to know is that I think she is just a like a fine bottle of wine…….getting better with age……happy birthday MP.

Marie-Pierre writes:

Again, I am grouchy for my birthday.  I want it to be over with as fast as possible.  I’ve forbidden my work colleagues from wishing me a happy birthday or – God forbid – organizing one of those dreadful office birthday parties.  I’ve always hid my birthday from Facebook so no reminder would pop up on my friends’ pages.

The birthday grouchiness started four or five years ago and hasn’t let up.  For a while, I thought it had to do with my grandfather’s death at about this time of the year.  But the mourning period has long passed and the irritation lingers. 

I remember when my grandmother told me birthdays didn’t matter to her anymore, how she couldn’t think of any present that might please her.   I was fifteen then, excited about my first birthday party with four friends from school.  I couldn’t fathom what tortuous path had led my grandmother away from her birthday celebrations. 

Perhaps this is a northern European genetic birthday disease that strikes in middle age.  Nobody’s fault really.  Certainly not mine.  It’s my birthday anyway.  I get to be grouchy.

MP reminded me that it was Jeff that got us going to Robert Boustany’s yoga class.  I had forgotten it was him.  That is just the way Jeff was, quietly guiding because he was on his journey and when we were looking for a different type of yoga, he had already experienced it.

At Jeff’s memorial service, there was one of his oldest friends there giving a talk on their lives together over the years.  It was at The Rothko Chapel so the setting was in a circle with the middle being where you got up if you had some words to share about Jeff.  It was beautifully done and informal just like he would have wanted it.  When his friend started to talk, I could tell that he was going to share the real Jeff with us, not just some “candy coated” version because it was his funeral memorial service, it was just like his life, struggles with lots of joy and disappointment.

What seemed to be a constant theme was about Jeff’s voracious spiritual appetite and along the way, his competitiveness that usually got him where he wanted to go.  The reason that I see that in Jeff is because I have it to.  So when we started to go to yoga and Jeff was there, we would kind of keep an eye on each other in a loving competitive “who is better” kind of way.  Being that he was in teacher training, I was not that much different……except one thing……he was doing the teacher training and putting himself out there and I was not.  I had no intention of being a teacher but what I told myself was that neither one of us had the talent to teach yoga.  One difference, Jeff didn’t know that.

That  among others, is what I’ll miss most about Jeff and is also one of his great gifts to me and MP.  Just do it and to hell with anyone who makes judgments about us on the way…..thanks Jeff.

Marie-Pierre writes:

The death of our friend, Jeff Goodman, has left us shaken.  Jeff ate well, was healthy and practiced Zen meditation.  The consensus at his memorial service was that he also was happy, especially in these last two years, when he made a deliberate effort to pursue his dream.

Up until last week, I had plenty of judgment about Jeff’s dreams, especially how he had studied for his yoga teacher certification, while he wasn’t a particularly accomplished yoga student.  Who was this goofy guy to call himself a Zen priest and a yoga teacher?

I wasn’t the only one to think that way.  There were plenty of yoga teachers at Jeff’s memorial who shared they’d had similar feelings. But here the thing: there were plenty of yoga teachers at Jeff’s memorial. And they all admired Jeff’s goofy fearlessness.

In yoga, we spend a lot of time learning to conquer our fear by doing scary things like balancing on our forearms.  The top dogs get to balance on their hands, or they nose, or whatever else looks the scariest.  It looks really cool but Jeff had found another way.  He grandly ignored his own gross imperfections, and followed his path.  Doggedly so.  And it worked!

I am glad he never asked me what I thought he should do.  I would have advised him to get another job which would have been the most terrible, most wrong thing to say.

I am mourning Jeff.  I wish I could have coffee with him at Catalina and tell him how wrong I was to judge him, thank him for the big lesson he taught.  Such a fine Zen teacher.

Nostalgia being stronger than nutritional discipline, I have partially abandoned my vegetarian diet to indulge in French treats. Today, it was ham.  Not just any ham mind you: Madrange ham although known at “jambon de Paris”, the essential ingredient of all a good French sandwich.

We had to drive all the way to Central Market to overpay for a half-pound of the stuff, which I ordered to be sliced thick.  One has to sin in style.  If I was going to eat meat, at least I wasn’t going to munch on paper-thin stuff.  We bought good crusty bread too, and the right kind of butter lettuce although I made an effort to use some of the outer green leaves in the sandwich. (My grandmother, who didn’t give a hoot about nutrition, used to discard them all on the ground that “rabbit food” was too bitter for human consumption.  She had a point: a ham sandwich is so much better with just the inner leaves of the lettuce.)

The only distressing part about the sandwich experience was how Stan – in search of the twisty tie for the bread bag – flipped through “my” ham slices as if they were the pages of the dictionary.  Pawed my ham!  How could he?

What next?  Snort at the cheese?  Bounce the strawberries atop the kitchen counter?  Scoop peanut butter with his index finger?  (I think I’ve seen him to that…)  We are going to have a talk.  Set some ground rules.

Rule #1: the Madrange ham must be handled with respect.

Rule #2: no flipping of ham slices.

Rule #3: the last slice is mine.

Stan writes:

When we went to Central Market this week we were obviously on a mission to get certain items….some of which I had no clue.  I can always tell when MP gets something on her mind.  She lets me know that she is in charge of the cart and do not rush her.  She wants to shop.  This trip was about getting our good produce AND getting some French ham.

Whenever MP goes back to France, she comes back to Texas eating lots of bread, cheese, and ham as well as drinking red wine.  I call I the French hangover….. makes sense, she is French.  She loves the customs, the food, and most of all when she gets back she can bring a little bit of France and her parents with her.  This trip was one of the best she has had with her parents ever.

So our mornings went from juicing fresh vegetables every morning to a more traditional French breakfast……bread.  It was so nice to see her so happy.

So back to the ham.  I know this ham is important to her but for the life of me, I can’t tell much difference.  It is good ham, but I have had good ham before…… but she tells me  “but Stan, this is FRENCH ham……oh I see.”  Anyway, she loves it and it is special to her so we buy it periodically.

When we got back, I thought I would have some ham on my bread for lunch with what I bought. Obviously, I must have handled the ham wrong as I got a mini lecture on not touching the ham with my paws.

I am learning and now know not to touch the ham (except for what I am eating) with my hands and when she asks me if this is the best ham I say “Oui, Oui.”…..works every time.

My daughter Kelsey bought a book a few months back called “The Hunger Games”.  She was as hot on this as the trilogy of Vampire movies that came out a few years back where they “had” to go to the opening show at midnight and fight the crowds to do it.

Kelsey had me look at the trailer for Hunger Games and couldn’t quit talking about it.  I must admit it looked intriguing. Then MP read the book.  Unlike the vampire books which she didn’t like, she actually liked the storyline, just not the writer’s style.   So when the movie came out, I thought I would be seeing this movie alone or with one of my daughters.  Surprise, Surprise…..MP wanted to go see Hunger Games….so we went.

I loved the movie and MP actually thought the movie was better than the book.  Being that we are in 2012 and all the conspiracies that are floating around, a world like Hunger Games is not that big of a stretch.  What I really liked about the movie, was the main characters role.  It renewed in me how strong our soul and our will to survive is when we have something to live for.  Her will was just simply stronger than the others and they definitely have enough story line for the trilogy they have planned.

More than anything else, I love going to the movies with MP and I love texting each other as we sit side by side until one of us finally puts our phone away or the movies starts.  It never gets old and neither does anything I do with MP.

Marie-Pierre writes:

I had been resisting reading “The hunger games” until Isabel urged me to. “The writing is not that great,” she said, “but the plot is”. She was right of course and while I ended up skipping through many pages of the book, I thoroughly enjoyed the movie. Great costumes, good story line, pretty young people dying in all kinds of semi-dignified manners and – surprisingly enough – no sex: “The Hunger Games” is as satisfying as a pint of American ice cream with a tiny cherry of mild rebellion (aimed at the newly detested 1% ruling class).

Best of all: although all the pretty teenagers showed great teeth, none of them had fangs and most seemed content with a wholesome diet of bread, fresh meat and the occasional deadly berry. If anything, “The Hunger Games” might drive a stake in the heart of the vampire craze and we can all be back to fighting heartless wealthy people, zombie terrorists and the Ebola virus.
It’s going be a great summer at the movies.

The nicest thing about coming home was to have dinner with Stan and both of my children on Sunday night even though I was jet-lagged and quite cranky from 24 hours without sleep.  The second nicest thing was the large bouquet of oranges Lilies on the kitchen table. And the love note.

It’s nice to have been missed and it’s nice to have missed my little American tribe only to find it whole and doing quite well without me for ten days.  Now it’s the French tribe I miss: the long evening meals with my parents, the laughs, the meandering conversations about politics.

To compensate, I have been cooking French again, bought good bread and cheese at Central Market and had a glass of wine every evening.  I have also called my parents several times already to reminisce about the details of the trip.  Although we’ve always kept in touch, it is sometimes hard to sustain our relationship over the phone but I feel that this trip has brought us closer, at least for a while.

Now it’s back to work and the routine.  The jet lag is already dissipating.  Twice today, i caught myself  looking for English words but this too will pass soon enough.  I am back.

Stan writes:

Well MP is back from France and we are getting back to the swing of things.  I shared with her when she came back some of the mindsets that I had gone through when she was gone.  One of which was that for years when I was married, when my ex-wife would go back to Ohio to visit her parents and take the kids, I would get one to two weeks a year by myself in the house.

What I remember is that I would always seem to revert back to when I was single and would do the things that I did not get a chance to do as a married man.  I got to play more music, go out more, and one of the perks was that I would eat what I normally would not eat when everyone was around because I was embarrassed by what I was eating or how much.  This usually only lasted a few days yet somehow it felt liberating.

This past week, when MP went to France, I went through a similar experience, except it has really changed over the years.  First of all, there is just the two of us at the house now (no young kids) and I am in a totally different space.  Yet the messages, still play that I somehow should do something that I don’t do when she is here.

This time was different, I realized upon her return, that I did not go by the foods and most importantly, after the week was complete I realized that there was nothing that I do now that I can’t do when she is here (minus late night rock sessions).  That was very cool and I felt a shift that that part of my life is complete and I am one step closer to living my life authentically, no matter who I am with……glad you are home MP.

Yes the cat is away, that being MP, and I am doing a lot of playing……kind of.  I am playing lots of music and recording a lot. MP went to France this past week to be with her parents and I have the house to myself. 

With the help of technology she still was able to get her blog in and us being able to keep our streak going.  I love that about us, both dedicated to sharing our lives and the gifts we get from it are amazing.

This week has been a nice break for both of us. MP is getting great time with her parents in France and I am getting some real good quality music and connection time.  I have had my buddies over and still have a lot of recording to do this week. Not that I can’t record when MP is here, I just don’t have to worry about volume or when to quit or things like that.  With the aid of technology, and her I phone, we get to talk at least twice a day and there are many texts sent back and forth.  That has been wonderful

One thing I realize is what a great decision I made to move in with MP.  Even when we are worlds apart we connect regularly and often.  The house is not the same without her and even though I am really digging my recording freedom, she always makes room for my music and I for her art…..I love that.

I am ready to stop juicing and cooking for one and getting some good connection time in with MP.  Until she gets back though……let the music roll.

Marie-Pierre writes:

I am writing these lines on my mother’s tablet in the gardens of the castle of Chenonceaux.  We’ve rented a cottage nearby and are playing toutists for a few days after visiting my brother in the eastern town of Nancy.  There is no internet at the cottage which is tucked in the chalk cliff of the Vouvray wine region but there are lots of roosters to tell us the time of day.  I can call Stan on my i phone as long as I stick my arm out of the second floor window.  

I have spoken little english in five days and i am having a great time with my parents.  This is our vey first trip together, not the usual family visit.  Very relaxed.

My apologies for the very short update.  Off we must go to the castle, the gardens and the wax museum.  And lunch!  With wine of course! A bientot.

If you have been in our house, you would see quickly that two creative people live there.  Most of the art work we have is done by MP and if it was up to me, we would hang more of her work.  She also has her art studio in the back and upstairs.  Creativity is an important part of our lives.

My man cave is all about music and connection….my two favorite things.  On the weekends we both get to do a lot of our creative work together……and separately.   These are some of my favorite weekends.  After our morning exercise, we get some coffee and we give each other a hug and off we go to our respective parts of the house to work on our art/music.  MP has learned that if the music bothers her, she puts on her headphones and either watches a movie or listens to music while she does her art.  I could never do that, but it works great for her and keeps her very focused.

Periodically we both get crossed eyed from working and we go take a break to reconnect.  Those are also some of my favorite Stan and MP times.  Also every now and then when one of has a break through or something we want to show off, we run up (or downstairs) and get each other to come check it out, that is pretty cool too.

Overall the creative process is a HUGE part of our relationship and one we both get so much joy out of.  We also do our creative work during the week in the evenings or with me, since I have more flexibility in my schedule, during the days, yet it’s not the same without both of us working away.  Who do I go run to when I have just had a major breakthrough on a song, or I just found the perfect drumbeat, or I just came up with the most awesome lyrics……not MP. 

So I cherish the times we have together and I love knowing she is there, even though we are both doing our thing……looks like this may be going on for a long time….good.

Marie-Pierre writes:

We’ve settled into a creative routine : Stan composes music in his downstairs “man-cave” while I write and draw in my upstairs studio. When the drum beat gets a little too loud, I plug my earphones into my iPad and work while listening to Netflix movies.  Stan keeps his door tightly closed, partly to prevent noise, partly to prevent me from disturbing his recording.

Creativity requires space.  We’ve found our nooks and rhythms.

Every hour or so, one of us will wander to the kitchen for a snack.  The other follows.  Every breakthrough is celebrated with a visit to the other’s studio or to the porch.  Every frustration gets lamented in the same way.  When things get really tough, we get in the car and head to Memorial Park for a long walk.

Perhaps it helps that Stan is not a visual artist and that I do not understand much about music.  There is neither competition nor critique between us but the camaraderie of two people who try to express their creativity and are finding ways to do so in peace and harmony.

We worked till almost midnight last Sunday, woke up wanting yet another glorious day spent doing what we like.   My shelves are filling up with drawings.  Stan is writing songs.  It’s working.

A year and a half after moving into our house, I finally tackled my office space. First Isabel and I spent an afternoon moving the furniture around. It was no small task. It takes two people to barely move my butcher-block desk off the floor. My shelves are so filled with books, they have to be completely emptied every time we move.

Isabel has an inspired sense of space and after much debate – and much sweating – we determined that the very large and very open upstairs room needed to be divided into three sections: Stan’s bedroom, my office corner, and the “hangout” room with the two couches from my former life.
On Saturday, Isabel and I headed to IKEA to purchase divider shelves. Thank God for my strong daughter being able to single-handedly load all of our purchase into the car. And thank God for her fine IKEA assembling skills. By dinner time the shelves were almost assembled, by early evening I had a new office space.
I am getting used to the new furniture and the feel of the new enclosed spaces around me. I haven’t filled the shelves yet, partially in deference to Stan’s dislike of clutter, partially because I am enjoying the emptiness. But I did re-use some of the white packaging to make an impromptu pin-board that looks better than anything I could have bought.

Last night, Stan, Isabel and I spent time hanging out and chatting in the new space. It worked.

Stan writes:

So MP has been thinking about how she wanted to arrange her space upstairs for a while now and all it took was Isabel (her daughter) coming into town and one trip to Ikea to finally put the plans into action.  I think she just needed some creative nurturing.

So I get the call as they are coming back from Ikea for us to be home because they need to unload some boxes.  I turn around and we all pitch in to move boxes upstairs and unleash MP and Isabel on their project.  Cube shelving was becoming a reality and MP’s space upstairs was making a metamorphisis.

When I came up I could tell MP was a little nervous and wanted to know if I liked what she got and did I have any feedback.  I told her, do what makes you happy.  A few hours later the shelves were assembled and we all thought they looked a lot bigger on the floor than what they had imagined.  Although once they were stood up, they worked great.

Change is funny and how we react to it is even funnier.  The first day MP was grumbling that she really wasn’t sure she like her desk against the window and these shelves really stood out, etc, etc, etc.  By the second day they were growing on her.  Now they fit in and are starting to redefine her space.

Sometimes we all need some encouragement and some nurturing and some help to get what we want….this time it was MP’s turn to receive.  Change can be wonderful.