Mama needs her time and tunes, y'all

I first met Andrew from Australia when I was a 20-year old fetus camp counselor who cursed the belly I would slay for now and was in love with...well everyone. But back to Andrew. Andrew and I realized very soon that we were rocking a lot of the same cassette tapes in our walkpeople. A kindred music spirit thing grew and soon we were making each other mix tapes of music from our sides of the globe that we didn't just think but knew the other would love. Tapes became CDs just like the long letters and phone calls became quick notes and emails. And still, just when I'm missing music or my friend, something arrives in the mail from Australia and it's always good.

Andrew introduced me to Things of Stone and Wood, John Butler Trio and many, many other amazing bands from Oz. He laughed when I said I was digging that Na-na-nahhh-I'm Tornatalie Imbruglia  song and sent me  a Bernard Fanning album. 

We're not as close anymore. It's hard when you live across so many oceans and your lives take turns from being 20 and singing crazy Christian camp songs (together)to traveling (him) and college (me and then him as well) and jobs (both of us) abroad (him) and across the country (me) and marriage (me) and divorce (also me) and babies (me and soon, him) and surfing the sea (totally him) and saddling the internets (all me).   And yet,  after hearing about all that has been happening in my life  these last months, Andrew did what he knows how to do best in our friendship. He sent me a package of new CDs. And really, it is his own brand of support that makes me smile, helps me center and gets me singing so loud in the car that I can't concentrate on any of my worries at all.

Two years ago, he sent me The Sound of White, a CD by Missy Higgins that I had on repeat for months on the kitchen boombox as I patiently eased Lil E into solid foods and tried desperately to actually cook dinner at night. A few days ago, he sent me a package with four more CDs, and among them, a new one by Missy Higgins. It's been in my laptop on repeat ever since, a different way to listen this time around but sweet all the same.

It was once again good timing because I already had tickets sitting on my dresser to see Missy Higgins tonight. She's on her first American tour and I am going to be there to see this Aussie hammering on a piano and belting out amazing lyrics on one of our stages.

I haven't been to a show in a long time. And I haven't even been out of the house much in the last few months without a child, a bag of Lightning McQueen toys, a sippy cup and the heaviest laptop of all time in tow (no, really, I'm fine. No...really). Tonight, when I have a beer in my hand and am baring my breasts in admiration to Missy's artistry (no no no, I reserve that solely for the Erasure dudes who have no earthly clue what naked ta-tas even are), you know I will be the annoying lady singing along like she's alone in the car. Like she's a mama who doesn't get out nearly enough. Like once this divorce is final, like she's gonna make Missy her rebel bride.

Of course, I'll be raising my glass to Andrew from Australia as well. Without him, and that long-distance music and lyric connection, I wouldn't have this evening to hold on to like I am.

Want to get in on a little of this kindred music spirit? Here's one of my favorite new songs by Missy Higgins (check me out, rocking the YouTube embeds like a madwoman this week...owww). Any song that begins with lyrics about clothes falling off and things rolling off the tongue is worth a listen, mais non?