Steph's beginning

What Lynsey said is true: I enjoy the company of Gwen, the Irish Wolfhound and am not big on social hugging. I could tell you all about my past accomplishments, but I don't they are what brought me here, to this blog. Lynsey knows: I'm straddling the equator of major change. I'm being broken open, again. I’m freaked clear out of my skin nearly every day.

About me: I write. I read. I photograph. I co-parent a seven year old girl and a ten year old boy, one week on, one week off, and have an exceptionally amicable relationship with the ex.

I’ve done some way cool things: jumped off a bridge (on a dare) into the Middle Fork of the Salmon in Idaho. Moved places alone, where I knew no one. Traveled alone, a lot. Met the most interesting people. These adventures don’t scare me but scare others, and make them think I’m brave. What keeps me up at night are the things that everyone else does with grace and apparent ease. Like going to the grocery, or keeping a schedule.

At the end of the day, I’m just a girl, with a pen and a camera and an inquisitive mind, trying to get everything right and failing. Might as well share.

There are post-it notes all over the living room with writing ideas for this next month, and they all seem deal with much more of an interior landscape. If you have suggestions for me, please! Post them here, send me an email, call me up, meet me for coffee. I hope it’s not boring. Let’s see, shall we?

Tomorrow, I’m tackling a real, live freaky thing.

Lynsey--let's just call this all of March

Oh, hi there.  Come here often?  Clearly I don’t.

Well, March was a bitch.  Not just any bitch either.  March was that “friend” that hurts your feelings and drives you crazy and even though she doesn’t deserve to consume your thoughts, there she is, every damn day, making you want to cry and tear your hair out at the same time.  Nice to your face—oh, look birds and flowers and spring!—but she’s already started whispering about you before your back is even turned—haha—snow!  How do you like that??

I didn’t hold up my end of the deal here—no two ways about that.  I wrote a couple of posts.  I deleted them.  I wrote others in my head.  Those never made it to the virtual page.  Or rather, the blank email where I write everything because it has the auto spell check and my brain thinks better in email format.  I thought about things that scared me every single day.  My intentions were there, but my mind just couldn’t wrap around it.  Oh, you ask for proof?

Well, I thought I fell in love.  Doesn’t really matter if I did or didn’t.  Point is that I am not now.  And the whole process of that was damn scary.

After that went to hell in a hand basket, I dated.  People, dating is scary.  I have 30 dating stories alone that could work as fuel for this blog’s fire, but I will spare you all but this one:  I find myself at a tequila bar with a man who I know to be tall, successful, and funny in text.  We are there because he said “do you like tequila?” and I said “yes”.  Because I do.  So, here we are, sitting at a table at this tequila bar in The People’s Republic.  I knew we weren’t going to be doing body shots or anything, but when someone says “do you like tequila”, I’m thinking of course-- Jose and I are good friends.  The menu is crazy complicated and my plan of ordering a margarita is clearly not going to be well received.  So, I tell the man to surprise me.  Takes him, no joke, 15 minutes to come up with an order of two different kinds of tequila that he orders “with training wheels” (I’ll save you the trouble—it means lime and salt.  Yeah, I didn’t know that one either.).  They show up in these tiny little glasses which we will be sharing (so not my thing on a first date).  I taste one as instructed and I am asked, “what do you taste?”.  And so I tell him.  I taste tequila.  This brings on an eye roll so massive, I was concerned he would get whiplash.  So I asked him what he tastes.  Floral, vanilla, oak, with a peppery finish.  Okay, no one knows what oak tastes like.  For all we know, it tastes like chocolate.  I mean, when was the last time you licked a tree?  So, I play along and taste it again and tell him that I totally get the oak.  This little charade lasted longer than I care to admit.  The scariest part being that I will never get those 3 hours of my life back.

I said no a lot more often than I usually do. (Clearly not to men appearing to be funny and interesting, wanting to take me to tequila bars, but still.)  This is scary because, you see, I must control everything.

Sometimes you get caught up in the excitement of the feeling of a tribe and you confuse mere acquaintances with true friends.  So I reevaluated and made sure that the time I was spending on my friendships were the friendships I was wanting to have.  Scary to say to yourself that somehow this person is in my life, but I don’t really care for them and/or they make me feel awful.

I let go.  I chatted with the ex-husband without worrying about what he thought or how he could use my words against me.  I let the kids each cookies for dinner (not every day, just for the record).  I asked for what I needed and politely excused the people out of my life who couldn’t return what I was giving.  I said some important things to some important people—things that have been weighing me down for a long time—things that were scary to say.  I let the universe have a turn at taking care of stuff and I just enjoyed the view.  (Crazy universe--knowing how to drive and all that. ;)

And finally, I accepted.  I accepted that I am, as someone recently put it “uniquely off-kilter”.  This artist mind that I have been rejecting for years has come in and taken over and for the first time, I am not kicking it out.  This crazy desire to create consumes me, and my thoughts race, and I get overwhelmed with the can I’s and should I’s.  I am pretty decent at math.  I can fix most basic computer issues.  I know enough about business to get by.  But at the end of the day, I will be known for my creativity.  And for the first time in my life, I accept that and understand that it’s not less than other qualities.  I never have what I was supposed to bring, I take notes on gum wrappers, and the concept of time almost feels like punishment.  But sing me your song, show me your painting, tell me your stories, and I’ll get it.  And I’ll appreciate it—I’ll appreciate you.  Because I am….deep breath, everybody hold on…..an Artist.  I am a working artist that makes a living creating art.  Okay, that was scary as all get-out, but I said it. 

And that’s 30 freaking days of scary and then some.

Lynsey -- Days 2-5

Last year, through the fine and exact (or final and extreme, depending on how you look at it) art of divorce, I became a single mom.  Obviously this was not the plan years ago when my children were born, but when the inivitable happened and my unit of four became a little team of three, there was plenty of good that came with the change and we are learning how to navigate this path, no matter how unintended it was.

That said, it’s never easy.  The little changes that you don’t think much about are the hardest to get used to.  If someone has a nightmare, it’s me and only me that gets up to comfort and calm.  If library books and school lunches are to be remembered and I forget, there is no back-up plan in place.  There are absolutely no sick days, no regulated 15 minute breaks, and positively no dull  (or restful) moments.  The times where I used to walk (run) away from it all and hop in the car for a 20 minute drive to blow off steam after their father got home from work, have become 10 minutes of locking myself in my closet, pillow over my head, tears rolling down my face, kids screaming on the other side of the door.  Occasional sleep-in days have been replaced with a new 8 cup a day coffee habit.  The ability to have one parent run a midnight errand for Children’s Motrin while the other stayed with sick kiddos has become me trying to be prepared for anything in advance, and when I fail, leaning on my close village of family and friends to handle the co-parenting tasks that this single parent can’t always do alone.

The ex-husband and I have a relationship that ebbs and flows.  Moments of putting anger and resentments aside and relying on a friendship that is a decade and a half in the making, often give way to moments of remembering why this single parent situation happened in the first place.  For all the books there are on divorce and co-parenting, there are no books on your divorce and your co-parenting except for the one you are continuously writing yourself each day. The one where there is no skipping ahead a couple of chapters to remind yourself that it all works out.  And all the patience in all the world can’t change someone into being what you need them to be, if they were never that in the first place.

Yesterday I had a sick kiddo, which isn’t a big deal.  I was somewhat prepared, stocked well with meds and juice, and had a friend waiting in the wings for a Target run, if needed.  I was enjoying those quiet moments camped out on the sofa you get with a sick babe that remind you of just how precious and amazing this parenting thing is.  Around 9pm things took a crazy turn and when a situation of coughing up blood started, it was clear that I would be having my first ever solo parenting night that involved a very sick kid, another perfectly well and sleeping kid, an ER trip, cashing in a lot of favors and really long night.  It was this type of night that I knew would happen at some point, but was exactly the kind of thing that terrified me about this single mom gig—knowing it was out there in the distance and that I would have to figure it all out on my own.

But…..

Favors were called in. The medical expert in my village pointed me in the right direction.  Grandma, who lives a mile away for this exact reason, did a late night commute over to slumber on my sofa so that the well kid didn’t have to be woken and dragged along.  And…..I made decisions.  Without a back-up, without the other parent available or here to help me or reassume me that I was doing the right thing, that everything would be fine, I created a plan of action all by myself.  It sounds so small saying it now, but in the moment when you are the only person to make choices for a completely dependent creature, it’s scary.  Scary wrapped up in a big ball of Frustration over even being in the situation, with a side of This Is Total And Complete BS that you’re doing it alone.  Served with a tall glass of Tired. 

But…….

Dessert is a piece of Empowerment with chocolate sauce.  Because you can.  And you do.  And then you realize you are better at this than you thought, more prepared than you realized and more capable than you give yourself credit for.

The village comes through--they always do.  Grandma likes being needed and it's a good reminder that she is.  Kids are grateful for their Mama and no matter how much she is questioning herself, they are only in complete trust of her.  The boy that makes everything better offers to help, even though he doesn’t have to.  And even though you don’t take him up on it, the offer itself reminds you that you are not as alone as you feel.

And it’s not that scary after all.

Lynsey -- Day 1: It's nice to meet you. :)

Hi.   I’m Lynsey.  It’s good to be here.  I really like what Lyric has done with the place.  That bird thing happening on the right is just magical.

So, something that scares me every day for 30 days......folks, I’m going to be honest—not a bunch scares me, and what does tends to be really boring.  For example, I’m a bit frightened by multivitamins.  I’m fairly certain they aren’t really regulated in any way, and do you know just how much craziness they could fit in a pill that huge?  You take one and  5 hours later, you’ve been roofied and you are laying in the hospital trying to tell everyone that all you did is take a multivitamin and no one believes you.  That’s scary stuff.  Way more scary to me than a tattoo.  Of which I have many.  So there probably won’t be a big tattoo post.:)

Today I got bangs.  I know what you’re thinking…SAY THIS ISN’T SO!!!  SAY THAT YOU WEREN’T SO HASTY THAT YOU JUST CHOPPED SOME HAIR OFF OF YOUR HEAD!!!!  But it’s true.  That’s the kind of girl I am—throwing caution to the wind like that.  I had been thinking about it for a while—weighing the pros and cons.  It’s hair, people.  This is serious stuff.  Just because it grows back doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t obsess over it as though it were a house purchase or military enrollment.  Ultimately I decided to go for it, if for no other reason than to have something to blog about today in case I wimped out of the scary thing I was really planning which was these:

Oh my.  Do I ever hate that side of the camera.  The other side is much easier.  But, I needed some new shots for the book I am writing (okay, fine.  For Facebook.  I needed a new profile picture for Facebook.) and this seemed like just as good a place as any to start my 30 days.  Plus, now I get to show you all my fresh bangs.;)

After a really miserable photo session years ago, I try to avoid having my picture taken, especially by a professional.  I'm picky about camera phones.  I've figure out a way to avoid any type of group shoot by offering to take the picture myself.  I've been known to yank cameras out of peoples hands to delete the picture I am in.  Boy, does that really irritate them.

Self-confidence issue?  Sure.  I also just don't think I photograph well.  I have a hard time getting comfortable and being myself around people, and a camera between us certainly doesn't help the situation.  And there is this issue with the fact that I am not exactly thrilled about this new wrinkle thing that is happening on my face.  Or this patch of grey hair on the right side of my head that I assume must be a tumor or something and the patch is just how it is manifesting itself on the outside.

But I did it.  I had a photographer friend that has been wanting to trade pictures for a while and I finally caved and took her up on it.  And we walked around and talked about parenting and life and sex and clothes and jobs, and took pictures and it really wasn't all that bad.

Plus......I dig the bangs.  I am no longer scared to change my hair at a moments notice. 

And I'm working through the picture thing. :)

Tomorrow I may do something really crazy.  Like take a multivitamin.  Stay tuned--you wouldn't want to miss that. ;)

Beth/Lyric signing off!

Well, well, well.  Those 30 Freaking Days went by hella fast!  I didn't exactly get to blog as many times as I'd hoped because I was busy doing things that were dipped in crazysauce.

Without writing a novel here, I'll recap my last couple of weeks:

I signed up for a Hula Hooping Class.
While I realize this wouldn't scare most people, I had a bad experience attempting to draw out the hula from my hoop one time.  I was with a couple of friends, having henna done for my Minutes With You album and the henna artist basically forced me into giving it a whirl.  I couldn't do it.  She kept trying & trying, saying she'd never met anyone who couldn't.  I was so uncomfortable and almost started to cry.  One of my friends came over and said "Hula Hooping is your dominoes", explaining that she could never figure out the little dotted rectangle game.  That sentiment still cracks me up!

I contacted several Song Publishers.
When I first moved to Nashville about 16 months ago, I thought I wanted to get a publishing deal, meaning a publishing company would pay me to write songs for them to pitch to other artists.  I quickly realized that in a town where a lot of writers should be working in a bakery if they enjoy cookie cutters so much,  I'm more valuable as an artist who writes their own quirky material.  Adding some dried berries to your dough never hurt nobody!

But I have a small collection of songs that I thought might be worth playing for some publishers, so I scheduled some meetings to play my little tune tots for them.  Guess what song they liked best?  Streetlighting.  A song I'm putting on my personal EP.  I will take this feedback as reassurance that I'm on the right track.

I put a blue patch in my hair two days before a photo shoot.
And I'm so happy I did.  Thanks to Cindy Kaza-Redmond for giving me edgy hair for the first time in my life.  :)  And major props to Lynsey Peterson (assisted by Blake Cannon) for MAKING effing clouds for our shoot.  It's refreshing & inspiring to have creative friends who fully embrace your vision...even when it's homemade indoor clouds.

I asked people for help.
This is NOT something I'm great at.  I'm a do-it-yourselfer at heart, and tend to shy away from asking people for assistance when I can work hard and figure things out on my own.  But I'm attending SXSW this month in Austin, Texas and I really need to have some great recordings to hand out to people I meet there.  Being that every piece of the project puzzle is damn expensive, I knew that I needed to humble myself and do a little online busking...either that or be in debt for the next year.  So last night, I launched a LYRIC EVERLY KICKSTARTER CAMPAIGN.  People have been incredibly generous already and I'm so thankful for the support!  The scary part is that if I don't reach my total goal by March 31st, none of the donations go through.  I'll be holding my breath for the next 29 days!

I got a tattoo!
And I haven't told my Mom about it yet.  :)  On the 30th day of this blog, I went to Black 13 Tattoo Parlor here in Nashville with a very specific request.  The word "Now", placed on my left wrist.  It's a reminder to myself to not put things off, to live in the moment, and to do things that scare me.  I'm a huge typography nerd, and Marty "Riet" McEwen drew up the most beautiful, embellished script letters that please me so.

I just want to say a heartfelt THANK YOU to each of you who read this blog while I pushed myself these last four weeks.  I did a lot of things that I've always wanted to do, but never had the nerve.  Plastic surgery, a name change, my first tattoo.  No big deal.  :)  It's easy to put life & dreams off until tomorrow.  I prefer Now.

Beth - Days 12 through 14

Even though I'm not posting a blog every single day, I've been working on tons o' scary sh*t with dedication.  Well, except for the first few days after my slice & dice, but I was scared constantly during that, so I think I'm covered.  I really do have quite a few big things in the works, but Rome wasn't built in a freaking day, you guys.

One thing I am scared of, but ready to discuss is the NEW NAME I'll be recording/performing under.  Here she blows!!! 

Lyric Everly.  There were many ideas tossed around when I decided to adopt an alias.  Several years ago, my friend Keith mentioned a little girl named Lyric, and it's been my favorite female name ever since.  It literally means "the words of a song".  Everly flows well with it,  I think,  and carries musical connotations.

Why would I do such a thing?

Several reasons!  Pseudonyms are more popular in the entertainment biz than you might think.  Guess who was born Eileen Edwards, Alecia Moore, Gordon Sumner, Peter Hernandez, Mary O'Brien, Declan MacManus, or Brenda Webb.  The list goes on.  It's important to have a memorable name, that's easy to pronounce and pleasant to the ear.

I write in different genres sometimes and it's been increasingly difficult to distinguish between a song that is "totally me" as an artist, versus something better suited for someone else.  I'll continue to write country & pop tunes here in Nashville, but will only release songs of sweetness & light under Lyric Everly.

Carl's been the biggest advocate of this concept.  Ever since we decided it would be best for me to be a solo artist, rather than us being considered a duo, his biggest pet peeve has been when people introduce us on stage as "Beth & Carl Miner" or "The Miners".  Not rockstar.  At all.

This is hilarious and so true:


Really, I'm just trying to get ladies out of their skirts.

So there you go!  Lyric Everly.  We launched this and put up this (complete with the first ever Lyric Everly song!) if you're willing to follow along.  Whew!  I'm glad that's out of the way!  Onto more scary business...

Beth - Days 7 through 11

Welllll....I got my splint taken off on Monday!  That's partially a fib.  I was supposed to have it taken off on Monday, but I called on Friday because it was driving me batty and they said I could take it off all by myself as long as I retaped it back on at night.  So I called my Mommy (a nurse) and hyperventilated for 10 minutes before I did it.

They took my stitches out 2 days ago, where the Good Doctor proceeded to compare his rhinoplasty technique to "fileting a fish".  O.M.G.   

And here is my McFish Sandwich, 9 days post-op.  TAAADAHHHH!!!!

I'm very pleased with the results so far and I think it looks pretty natural.  Dr. Frenchman said it won't look its "best" until around December, after all of the swelling goes away.  He said I'll especially continue to see improvement in the area on either side of the tip, where they removed cartilage.

In true "big reveal" fashion, I only did my hair & makeup for the "after" shots.  :)

I'd like to thank everyone who has been gracefully supportive of my decision to do this.  I'm also thankful that anyone in opposition kept their opinions to themselves.  Well played, players.

On my very first outing after removing the splint, I discovered this on my drink's cap:

Just call me Andy Borowitz from now on.  :)

ACTUALLY...that leads me to my next BIG SCARY ANNOUNCEMENT.  I'm adopting a stage name.  More on THAT coming in the next blog!  It's only getting crazier from here.  Thanks for reading.