Shakes the stairs that stab the wall

In future times, records that could have been will look like this...

SCRAM! EP

Side A: Skyscraper, Tin Can Transmissions
Side B: Strong Enough, Between Dreams and a Broken Heart

(c) 2006 The Mustard Room

Them Jane Gals

For Mom's day twenty ten, Mama Jane received a hot new piece of apparel from Baby Jane.

Say hello to your mother for me

Bubbles make bath time a blast time. It were a long and winding week full of traffic jams, pearl jams, and peanut butter and jams. Thanks to Uncle Jere, the whole family got to enjoy free dogs, beans and beer before taking in seven and a half innings of a ball game which the home team actually won. Oh, and did i mention that we won free car washes? Well, now you know.

Check out this creeper...

He came to inspect the disturbing odor emanating from the dishwasher. Then, a flamboyant man with leathery skin made him disappear into thin air. Poof.

We spent mother's day sending photos to mothers, eating chicken, chasing chickens and mooing at cows. Upon request by Mama Jane, the Jane gals and myself spent the afternoon at Trader's Point Creamery. Baby Jane got to visit with the brown swiss cows who make her milk. Also, she tried to hug a chicken.

Here's another one of Mama Jane's gifts which Baby Jane and i worked on together...

Cluck.

Cluck.

Cluck.

Kool and the gang

Here's something: Last friday was so completely rad that i've been unable to blog about anything due to soaking in the afterglow.

First, Baby Jane and i spent the morning riding in circles atop horsies and deer. Then, after checking in with our pals and the newest member of their clan, me and the Jane gals made the short hike home to rendezvous with some house guests for a night of pinning cloth and connecting dots. It started in the mind of Katie Bee who shared the dream of her creative endeavor with Mama Jane and myself months ago before trotting off across the globe. Recently, we regrouped and talks began to set the plan in motion. An evening of beers, sheers and bobbins turned into a junction of function and fashion. The night served as a catalyst for grand conversation with buds from all corners of life. Here's a rundown:

• non-profit investigation
• cool porters
• merry bobbins
• second hand slicing
• cozy neck splicing
• granola fever
• baby snuggling
• party favors

Today, we put pen to ink, we put paper to pen and tore the whole thing apart to put together again. Also, for some reason, i made cherry kool-aid.

Word.

Proverbial irons in literal fires

Behold the mighty Schwinn Hollywood. She's bedazzled in rust and raring to go. If memory serves me correctly, this beaut was once the teenage chariot of my mother's younger sister better known as Aunt Patti. Somehow she (the bicycle not my aunt) wound up propped upon a kickstand in my folks' shed for the better part of twenty years. I really am referring to the bicycle here. Let's just put those rumors to rest right now. My aunt has lived in oregon for some time now. At least that's what i've been told. Regardless, i am bound and determined to squeeze every last ounce of life from this rickety wiry beast or get slightly injured trying. While this is an exciting prospect, the addition of her majesty does not come without its problems. You see, we now have more bicycles in our garage than necessary for a healthy young couple living south of indianapolis.

Here is a list of things that you may or may not need which we have to offer and/or negotiate a deal for:

• ten-speed bicycles
• a lawn mower
• a propane grill
• 12" copy of 1978 billy joel record '52nd street'
• complete set of 1989 bowman baseball cards
• tv with built-in vcr requiring a hefty dose of patience to operate (remote control included, batteries not so much)
• dandelions

Take your pick and make an offer. Otherwise, they'll all die sad and alone and the guilt will follow you home and beg for scraps from your front porch until you spray it with a garden hose and shoot bb's at it. You really don't want that. Do you? I don't know, maybe you do.

And now, a bear...

More from him later.

Riding shotgun with a black man

Why yes, that is a toasted melange of rolled oats, quinoa, milled flax and cinnamon. Also, yes these are some of the tasty ingredients found in the batch of granola bars we created from the comfort of our kitchen this afternoon. Again, i absolutely would love to share with you the recipe for such a delicious and aromatic snack choice. Our friend and partner in craftology, Rachel, sent Mama Jane a link to this delightful post.

The final verdict: Mmmmm...

By the way, have you ever pulled up to a gas pump in a radio flyer town & country to purchase two dollars worth of unleaded gasoline? Baby Jane has.

In other news: Brother from another mother, Nelson, and myself took a late night drive through the country in his pickup truck. The goal was to retrieve a couple sweet Schwinn cycles and another hand-me-down propane grill from the folks. All was going according to plan until the fuzz pulled us over. Apparently, the plate in the back window warranted some suspicion from johnny law who informed us that beat-up pickup theft is an enormous problem in them there parts. I, however, am convinced that my friend and i were subjected to an unmerited case of racial profiling. As we later rolled out of my parent's driveway, I asked if we looked at all suspicious. My concerned father assured us that we merely appeared as though we were stealing bicycles. We all chuckled nervously before my comrade and i cautiously continued homeward. While conversing with friends earlier this evening, i had recounted the time i stood behind a shed with my childhood friend while watching him consume a bomb pop which was defiantly purchased from the ice cream man after said friend's mother warned him otherwise. I swore that i was either a.) going to jail, b.) going home early, or c.) never having the privilege of enjoying a frozen treat ever again. In over twenty years, i have never had that feeling again until the night i rode shotgun through shelby county with a black man.

Tractor fall

We were in serious danger of falling deep into a Pingu-induced coma. I did what had to be done and got Baby Jane and myself dressed for brisk morning romp at a secret locale between the trees. There were birds. There were swings. There were slides and a roundabout. We even found a tiny tractor abandoned below the bucket swings. We had the place all to ourselves and we went wild. Just check out the expression of sheer amusement...

Now, excuse me while i kick the sky...

Swings are a whole lot of good times. Also, i later admitted to my wife that i've owned those socks longer than i've known her. Perhaps shopping for some new socks is in my future. To be honest, those shoes aren't nearly as ancient, but barely serve a functional purpose at this point. An alternate view point would prove this point inarguable. You may take my word for it.

Later, four hours at the Strange Brew came and went like nobody's business as i pushed Lauren out of a tree to help her see that she could indeed fly all along: Big black paper mache balloon + candy bars + a dream = a future for our children. Then, we both walked away with a buck eighty in our pockets and revolution in our hearts.

Obviously, i've made my point quite clear.

Natalie's Walkers Go Purple.

Friends of The Mustard Room, Natalie's Walkers, provided us the distinct pleasure of printing shirts designed by Erik Tidd for the March of Dimes walk this year. Behold.

Thank you for letting The Mustard Room contribute to the cause in such a fashionable fashion.

Rainy days of thunder

The common response toward rainy days seems to be that of longing for less rainy days. While history has proven that too much rain can be troublesome, i tend to enjoy wet overcast days. Baby Jane sees the rain as an excuse to wear her boots, albeit indoors.

Nevertheless.

On days like these, coffee seems to taste better and i often find myself inspired to fine tune batches of songs. This usually leads to making some kind of recorded documentation of the evolution of these songs and - because i'm a little OCD about album cover art accompanying all and i do mean ALL of the music in my library - a subsequent album cover...

Thanks to awkward family photos (dot) com for the inspiring imagery.

As mentioned in a previous post, the mustard room was given the distinct privilege of printing the tshirts for our friends' march of dimes team this year. We cranked these out in a couple nights after Baby Jane went to bed. It was a pretty rad way to contribute to the cause.

Brass tacks

Well, the wagon-ride-to-the-park streak has been broken. Today, we had much work to do in preparing screens for the printing of t-shirts for Team Nat-bug. Our friend's daughter has a team who march for dimes downtown every spring, and this year The Mustard Room has been recruited to print the fronts and backs of the team's apparel. Baby Jane and i spent the rest of the afternoon driving around the backyard while watching whirlybirds and aeroplanes float overhead.

The highlight of our day was dinner and conversation with our dear friend Katie Bee who has recently returned from traversing the world. After an impromptu photo shoot with the always obliging Baby Jane, we got to the pressing business as at hand: tasty vittles and good vibes. We all had many stories to share and schemes to devise, and it would appear that our souls are being stirred in similar directions.

Next time: pretzels, beer, sewing machines, shredded tees... this and more for the children.

Surprises

After a night of screaming for badass girls on roller skates, I spent a few hours in the early morning crafting magical beverages before returning to my sanctuary of domestic bliss. Upon my return home, i rather expected a warm greeting accentuated by hugs and kisses from the Jane gals. You can imagine my surprise when i was greeted by nothing more than a vacant ground floor and silence. I made my way up the staircase to the second floor and slowly began cracking the door to the master bedroom. No sooner had i turned the door knob when i heard a familiar voice shriek, "Daddy!" As i peeked behind the the hinged white panels, i spied Baby Jane beneath a pile of votive candles as Mama Jane was frantically rifling through stacks of boxes of unorganized photographs from just about every season of our lives before and since.

Yikes. Was i prepared for such an endeavor? Did it matter? I knew at that very moment what the rest of my Sunday afternoon would be spent attempting: To organize and purge photographs until we'd sorted through each and every one of them.

Well, organize and purge we did.

Of course, amongst the three decades worth of doubles, throwaway shots, and the like, we discovered some forgotten and much cherished gems. It's moments like these when the facebook becomes a source of great amusement.

Meanwhile, in the great Mommydaddyswitcheroo Experiment news... Surprise, surprise...

That's right. In the past seven days, she's not gotten to go to the park a grand total of one day. It's where she goes to dream.

Speaking of dreaming...

Tuckered

Honestly, the first words out of her mouth when i found her standing high above a pile of plush critters from her crib this morning: "park. swing." She had a mission from the moment her big blue peepers happened upon the morning light what bounced gaily from wall to wall. So off we went on another red wagon ride to the park where a bucket swing hung patiently waiting for the chance to dangle a toddler over wood chips for a good thirty minutes straight.

When Baby Jane's flying high from a swing set she knows only one word: "more."

Negotiations and love songs

Phone calls before 8 in the morning from unknown callers are often ignored. Today's resulted in a series of phone calls which may or may not culminate in a handsome check from a handsome university. Be it noted that there has been a great deal of drama over this particular deal. Here's the deal with me - If there's drama to be had, you better believe that i'm all up in drama's grill. This exciting exchange took place during day 2 of the great Mommydaddyswitcheroo Experiment. That's right, stressful negotiations, pooped trousers, and we still had time for a wagon ride to the park.

Magical moment of the day: After Baby Jane gets a bath in response to a previously mentioned trouser incident, she rests her head on Daddy's shoulder and gets all cuddly. For a good 5 minutes or more, selections from the beatles songbook were sung over her just above a whisper.

These are magic times.