GingerAvengerVintage Fall Sale!!

Hi Folks! I'm between jobs, and that means EVERYTHING MUST GO in my Vintage Dress Shoppe on Etsy... Check out the lovely frocks I've collected over the years, and fancy yourself in a new-to-you little number! NO REASONABLE OFFER(s) REFUSED!
GingerAvengerVintage...Vintage Fashion with a Soul
click the above link to shop!

Many of these dresses have seen it all! They lived years before we did, had who-knows-what-kind-of adventures, and then they travelled the regional indie band circuit with me! I think it's safe to assume they're happy dresses...


 

 

Honeylark + Fiawna Forte - "Afternoon" (Official Music Video) from Nathan Poppe on Vimeo.

shop, Shop, SHOP!!!

and

THANK YOU!

~Natalie

A Night of Milk and Honey.... (and whatever else you bring.)

Don't miss Honeylark's opening set for MilkDrive at The Historic Blue Door!! BYOB wine/beer only. "Best Listening Room in the Heartland!!"
Tickets $15 here: http://www.ticketstorm.com/event/milkdrive/bluedoor/oklahomacity/9401/
             $20 at the door tonight.


National Walk (Pull) Your Kids to School Day

It's a gorgeous October morning. About 50 degrees and sunny, gentle breeze, and Midtown is alive and moving. And today is Wednesday. The small members of the household have been looking forward to this for days... It's National "Walk Your Kids to School Day". And I promised to participate...
    When the kids attended the elementary school 50 feet from our home, we walked every day.
       But Edgemere is just under a mile away. I budgeted time in my head for the trek. I can walk a mile in 15, so allow 20 for the kids, and it's really less than a mile, so... We'll leave by 7:40 and that should work...
     Per usual, shoes took some time to find, melt-downs about which coat/hat to wear (from the fashionista) ensued, Rapunzel won the rights to come along, and time ticked away. We left our driveway at 7:42 though. Not bad, considering.

     Our little well bundled threesome walked briskly at first. Our triangle of heads ducked for low hanging branches along the sidewalks, and stopped for a pic or two beside the brightly painted Vietnamese supermarket. Having refused help at first, Chloe willingly handed over her backpack by 24th street. (We live on 22nd.)
    We discussed the necessary evils of the OKC sewer system, and the unpleasant aromas it releases. We debated the residence of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles in said system. When the sidewalks became intermittant, we got our pretty riding boots wet in the dew soaked grass. This was highly unnacceptable. And while I'm sure it wasn't comfortable, the intensity of complaint was a bit extreme. These are the moments when I know. She is indeed my daughter.
    By 28th street things were seriously slowing down. My arms were beginning to ache a bit. Still engaging in wildly imaginitve conversation and debate about sights encoutered along the way, I did occasionally mention that we needed to "hurry up" or "walk faster" so as not to be late for school. About the fifth time I mentioned this concern, Gavin registered it. "Oh no! We can't be late!"...
     I smiled, nodded with relief, and then expected to pick up the pace. But, no. We hastened to no more than an amble.
I encouraged a speed-up again, and this time my highly competitive son said, "Mom, I am always faster than you. I am winning."...
     "Bingo", I thought...  "No, Buddy... I've been beating you on this whole trip... you are so busy talking, you've let me take the lead...."

   The ache in my arm immediately dissolved, as a new leader emerged from our triangle of fleece hats. This is more like it, I thought.
   By 30th street the school was in sight, and the kids were excited. We visited with the sweet veteran man who works the cross walk there. We watched both ways for cars crossing the school entry drive. We turned the corner on 32nd, and said "Good Morning" to the orange vested, stop-sign wielding, middle aged lady there.
    And, at 8:08am we arrived at school. Pretty swell timing, considering drop-off is from 8 to 8:15. The kids gave willing kisses and squeezes. We placed out brightly colored fleece hats and Rapunzel-the-tag-along in our backpacks. Gavin ceded the necessity of this procedure, saying "Some of the guys might be jealous of my cool hat and want one. I better hide it."
    They were in the door in a whirlwind. And I was alone. I turned and headed back South. I could move like an unfettered soul. And yet I missed my little fetters already.
    So, National Pull, I mean Walk, your Kids to School Day came and went. Can't walk home today because we have Ballet across town. But, I have a feeling we may start celebrating this pastime more than once a year. Mama needs the exercise, and more research is needed to rule out the inhabitance of the OKC sewers by large reptiles.

Be Still So Scottie Can Get a Lock on Your Coordinates...

     I am a songwriter. I started writing songs as a preteen. Those were pretty entertaining; overwrought with hormonal angst and social discontent. I honed my skills during college and met my future partner in life and crime. He taught me some tricks. He refined my approach. I kept writing.
     For years the only compositions I made public were songs written for weddings, silly songs for friends, etc... But from about 2006 until now I've been writing with a purpose.
     Why do I write? To get it out. To expel my thoughts, anger, joy, love, hate, social commentary, political opinions, worldview, etc. To express it to anyone and no one. To qualify these things first and foremost for myself. Because the mess doesn't leave my head once it's penned into a singable poem... but often I understand the mess better.

I write in strange bursts. Once I would have called them unpredictable. I no longer would. I have learned to see the signs of a writing stretch coming. When all feels lost... when i experience a new level of anger in one of my many roles in life... when the past swallows me up in a cloud of choking fumes and sedating memories... I write. Sometimes, as sleep creeps up, and my mind relaxes, a song materializes almost like a visitor beamed on board the Enterprise... and I write it down.
When all feels warm... when rays of light illuminate a new thing of beauty... when smiles commandeer my face without warning, when happy tears well up... I write.
    
The extremes are difficult. Life in the middle of the psycho-social road is easier, by far. But I learned to appreciate, if not embrace, multi-elevation ride. Without it I wouldn't have this ridiculous body of work, that confounds yet soothes me regularly. There's a rumor, passed around by songwriters, that Johnny Cash once stated "one must write at least one-hundred songs, before he/she will write a good one".
     Well, Johnny...I passed that mark sometime in the past 2 years... Bring it on.
 I don't write to any particular fan demographic. I don't worry too much about genre, or how to "explain" my songs. But I do have a goal. That purpose I mentioned earlier... I have never been moved/touched/changed/awakened/healed/delighted/entertained or heartbroken, by anything on earth, quite like good songwriting. I think of the artists I adore like forefathers. Like my team of psychiatrists... like family... like a mirror for the soul.

    If I do nothing else of value in my years on earth, I want to write songs that take another person or persons to that same place. I want to give back into this incredible circle.
    I am nervous, but ecstatic about the Spring 2013 debut of Honeylark's first album. I am trying to balance my excitement and dreams with doses of reality... that not everyone will like my songs. It's possible no one will... that I will probably not get a fancy record deal, and never again worry about the mundanity of earning income... that people don't buy vinyl, or cd's or even digital downloads, now that the social climate has birthed "spotify" and her predecessors/offspring...
But I'm still excited. I'm excited because my main goal is still attainable. And with that, a renegade smile has unexpectedly commandeered my face, yet again....