I’m still working on the musical memoir, and just got one of the tracks back...muy exciting.  Is there anything that stands out as a listener that you’d change? I originally wrote it with a more folky sound to it, but in Nelson, I saw the Wailers (obviously sans Bob), so changed the tune’s beat…this also was partly because of my time in Antigua, and part of my soul is still there, on island time mon. Have a wee listen to the tune, “We Just Fit” here. Let me know your thoughts mon!

I know, I know, you already know about my crowd funding campaign, but I thought I’d remind you about it…it’s not like your just giving me your money, you actually get stuff in return. Great music, concerts, loot bags etc. So just look at it as a kind of “pre-sales” thing if you will. In case you can’t find the link….have a look here.

Yesterday Nana and I spent some time outside her nursing home chatting, reciting nursery rhymes (now one of her favourite past times) and singing tunes. If you want to see a clip of us singing, then have a look-see here.I have so many memories of her playing the piano at our house, singing, my Mum telling her to stop singing, and listening to music. It’s no surprise I ended up ditching my law school plans and living a life in music. 

So, I blame my family for turning me into a musician-ski-bum; but not in a bad blaming sort of way. In more of a “so that’s why I love being outside so much and singing songs” sort of way. This became really clear to me over the past couple of weeks hanging out with my Dad in BC, and then coming back to Toronto yesterday and spending time with my Nana.

Dad and Mum bought me skis for Christmas when I was nine: I was devastated. In my letter to Santa I had written that all I wanted for Christmas was a pair of boot roller skates, preferably with white, “All American Dream” wheels, and red fuzzy dice to adorn them. Instead, on the mantle over the fireplace, all I found was an empty beer bottle (that’s what we left Santa instead of milk…I mean the guy had a LONG night and was probably sick of boring milk and cookies), and a note which read,

“Dear Sarah, sorry we don’t have boot roller skates in your size this year, but have fun skiing with your Dad.

Love, Santa”

Even though they were shiny silver Fisher skis, with bright red Salomon bindings, I wasn’t really excited about being in the cold outside, with Dad, when I could have been moving and grooving to Air Supply at the Barrie Roundabout. How was I to know that those silver rockets would propel me later in life to move to Whistler and start my career as a professional ski bum? I think Dad may lament getting me those skis (many years making minimum wage after YEARS of higher education), but if he does, he won’t admit it. He’s 72 now, and we spent most of last week on chairlifts, shredding the corduroy in Invermere and Golden BC. I thanked him last week at Panorama in Invermere for getting me those skis, just as I thanked Mum for giving me piano lessons for all those years. Those gifts: the skis and the music lessons, made me who I am today. And in a word, I am: grateful. 

I’m so ridiculously lucky to be able to do what I do, with the support of friends and family who put me up in their spare rooms, get me free lift tickets, put on house concerts so I can play my music, drive me to other cities, or at least bus stations and airports, feed me, encourage me, and basically help me to live my dream of a life in music and yoga. Creating and serving. 

As always, I offer you my heartfelt thanks for coming along on the journey with me, and being a passenger on this here Calvert train. Whoo Whoo!!

love and light,

Sarah
Question of the Week: What are you grateful for today?

 

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