March is a tricky month for me, after the loss of my sweet husband, Jeramy. If you checked out the Frankie and Jess podcast, you heard us talk about that.
While I’ve been trying to share an original song each month, the song for March is for anyone who has gone through a loss. I’m sure you, like me, have sat underneath that great big sky and wondered… where are you? Are you near? Are you with me?
What. A. Treat!
I got to visit with two of my longtime friends on their brand new podcast and it filled me right up!
Brief radio history, a quick chat about my stint on Yellowstone, performing, and my intimate walk with grief. We covered it all. We laughed and almost cried – luckily I was able to hold it together.
We also talked about the book I’ve written. It’s not out quite yet, but it’s very close.
My sweetheart/love of my life died in 2018 from DVT – Deep Vein Thrombosis/blood clots that made their way to his lungs. It was a brutal turn of events – living proof that nothing lasts forever and we should be so, so grateful for every moment we’re given.
The book is about our love story, his death and what it’s like to live through the dark tunnel of life after a loss like that.
You can give it a listen here and we’d all love your support.
Thank you!
It’s amazing how quickly a month goes, right? I suppose the major markers of the monthly passage of time - mortgage and credit card payments, for example – are good reminders. I’m finding having committed to sharing an original song a month, is another major marker.
But! Here we are – with February’s. It’s a song about a long distance relationship which makes sense to share around Valentine’s Day, no?
From a song-writing perspective, I was happy that I branched out from some of my go-to chords and used Em and even Bm! (that’s a barre chord for anyone paying attention and I’ve been afraid of those for quite some time – they’re more difficult to play).
I know my originals are all shot vertically instead of horizontally, likely offending the photographers in my life, but Instagram needs vertical video and it shows less of the room this way – ha!
In this song, I tried to capture the notion that sometimes we often think if we’re going to “get away” it needs to be to some incredible place but if the point is to see one another, it really doesn’t matter where you meet up, right?
Also, no offense to any of the cities mentioned in this song – I’m sure they’re all lovely. But, no one plans a get-away to Buffalo or Omaha – so it’s all for illustrative purposes.
Thank you, as always, for listening!
For my next trick – Music! I already shared that I’m trying to commit to cooking more – more real meals with actual ingredients and limited use of a microwave. Which I’ve already accomplished for January! I did my chicken n’ dumplings and last night I tried some chicken meatballs that were decent but likely not worth making again. But I did it!
But my other goal for the year – and I’ve made a promise to myself – is that I’ll try to share one original song a month. Yikes, right? It’s one thing to share that I’m cooking beginner recipes I didn’t create. But to put a little chunk of my heart and soul out into the world for anyone to pick apart, stomp on or worse, maybe, not care about, is a big ask.
When I first started writing songs, I thought that could be fulfilling enough – that I could create a tune just for creation’s sake. In fact, I was even hesitant to tell anyone I was writing songs at all – What if they think I’m ridiculous? What’s the point, right? 
Then I slowly started telling a few people but sharing songs with no one. I would mention it like I do my journaling – just a quick mention so people have a understanding of how I spend my time but I certainly wouldn’t share them. Yikes – can you imagine? How embarrassing!
But each time I finish one, I feel like I’m doing it a disservice if I don’t let it live its own life. It feels wrong to keep it captive in my notebook. What if no one ever hears it? What if it has a line or two that could help somebody somewhere?
Annnnnyway, I started by sharing a song or two with my sister; mostly offered up as a joke of sorts in case she laughed at me or worse, the song. But she didn’t. Isn’t it wonderful to be taken seriously?
I’ve been teaching myself to play guitar over the past six years and I’ve only been writing music for five maybe? I have friends who are real musicians and I guess I have a hard time putting myself in that category. I don’t know how to add all the riffs and things that make songs catchy, but I have the bones and structure. Riffs can be added at another time, right?
So here it is – I kept my promise to myself and I shared “Prosecco Tastes Like…” with the world – at least my world on Facebook and Instagram.
January – check!
(Now I need a drink 😉
I love the New Year. I hate January but I love the new year. I love roaming around during that week between Christmas and New Year’s (my favorite week of the year), when all bets are off, gluttony is king and adults can kind of pretend they’re a kid on Christmas break. The whole world slows down a bit – and we need it.
And somewhere in that haze, we’re allowed time to asses the year. How did we do? How did the world do? Was the year kind? Was it a beast? I love this moment to breathe and reflect.
As someone who journals regularly, I’m big on reflecting anyway. I just think it’s important to know why we do the things we do and we can’t know that if we never stop to ask ourselves the questions.
Naturally, New Year’s resolutions appeal to me. Not in a ‘flogging myself for not being good enough way,’ but in a ‘when I reflect at the end of the upcoming year, what would I like to have happened?’ What would a successful, fulfilling year look like next New Year’s Eve?
It’s about intention, having your own north star, knowing what you’re working toward. We do it at work every year. What are our goals? Typically even broken down by quarters Q1 – Q4. But we tend not to do that in our personal lives.
One of my goals for the year is to force myself to cook a bit more. I say it that way because it’s something I don’t think I’m good at and it occurred to me that maybe that’s because it’s something I never do. When I’m home alone, it seems like a lot of work for just me. And when Victoria is with me, we’ve often already eaten at my folks’ or we just microwave a bean burrito (I also give her a vegetable from time to time).
So, the goal: Prepare one dinner from scratch a month. Ideally, this would also include having a friend over as well.
I started early in December, cooking a lemon rice chicken soup for some friends.
January – I made chicken and dumplings! It was a practice, which is what I need. I just need to be able to go slowly with no audience and no pressure and keep reminding myself that I’m learning a new skill. I was by myself but I did it anyway. I put on some music, poured a little bit of wine and made a very tasty dinner (that I’ll likely repeat for a friend this weekend).
Now I get to cross it off my list for the month as something I’ve accomplished. So when NYE rolls around for 2024, I’ve got one meal in the bucket!
It’s miserable, isn’t it? To get up each morning and decide to create a gloriously awkward moment to participate in. Why do we do this to ourselves?
Well…. my sis and I always figure no one is going to knock on our door one day and say ‘hey what is your crazy dream or hobby? I’d love to support you!’
Since no one is going to do that, we’ve no choice but to get up and show up, day in and day out, putting our thoughts and creations out into the world.
I’ve been dabbling in songwriting for four or five years now, give or take. It’s the most mentally / emotionally taxing activity but fills my soul in a way that nothing else can – which must mean it’s something I should keep doing.
What good is a song that no one ever hears? Good question. I’m hereby challenging myself to try to just record myself from time to time and get these songs into the world if for no other reason, so my daughter can hear what they’re supposed to sound like when she’s going through my notebooks some day.
Love you all – thanks for listening!
It’s tradition. When I was a kid, cousin Lagoon day was the highlight of my summer – hands down.
In case you’re not from Utah, Lagoon is our local amusement park. It has a rich 100+ year history and is a staple in the community. Everyone goes to Lagoon. My mom will talk about going as a teenager to hear Battle of the Bands – which was exactly what it sounds like except the bands were bigger than you’re imagining – think The Beach Boys and The Rolling Stones.
We had one magical day there every summer. Grandma and Grandpa were there and the cousins. We got there right as the gates opened and always asked to stay “until the lights came on.” We packed in our own food in coolers, leaving them under a blanket on the picnic tables in the back of the park.
I grew up going to Lagoon. I’ll always think of my grandparents – sitting on the bench in front of what used to be the Fun House. I’ll always think of Grandma’s yellow cake with orange frosting and my Grandpa discussing the merits of the Colossus versus the old white roller coaster which “jerks you around.” He’s not wrong.
Fast forward many, many years… I’m now a mom and Lagoon still serves as the backdrop for a new group of cousins.
Cousin Lagoon Day is always a highlight and this year proved no different. The kids ran around together, all deciding to wear blue and creating their own jokes and traditions. We moms got to see the joy of the park wash over the youngest in the family – 2 1/2 and 1 years old – who both squealed with delight on every ride.
We packed our own lunch, leaving it under a blanket on the picnic tables in the back. We made Grandma’s yellow cake with orange frosting. We got a group photo of the kids and we also got a group photo of the moms – which my niece described as “just like all the other mom pictures.”
Again, it was pure joy.
Afterward, I wrote a letter to Lagoon thanking them for a great day, the many amenities they provide (like .25 water!), clean bathrooms and beautifully kept grounds. They thanked me for the nice feedback and ended their reply in the best way possible:
Long live cousin Lagoon Day!
Victoria and I just got back from an extraordinary trip to Peru!
I have to be honest – going to Peru, even Machu Picchu, wasn’t really on my immediate bucket list – I had Greece and Italy in mind. But V has been taking Spanish since Kindergarten and I’ve always told her, if she sticks with it, we’ll go somewhere after Jr. High and High School so she can practice her language skills.
When her Spanish teacher said she might be arranging a trip we were all in.
The trip was very planes, trains and automobiles – literally. Our group of about 15 had early wake-up calls (think 2:15a), red-eye flights, and everything in between. Not a relaxing vacation to be sure, but a rewarding one!
We did many incredible things and, thanks to our local guide, we were really able to learn more about the Peruvian culture.
But beautiful Machu Picchu was a truly extraordinary experience. After a week of non-stop group movement in Peru, I finally had a moment to sit down and collect my thoughts on the trip.
Machu Picchu – Breathtaking. Absolutely stunning. It truly lived up to its reputation.
We took a train into Aguas Caliente, a base camp, if you will. The train ride is about an hour and a half and a relaxing way to watch the landscape turn from the plains and agriculture to jungle as we entered the Amazon rain forest.
We stayed the night so we could get an early start the next morning. The shuttle busses pick you up at the side of the road and for the next 30 minutes, begin numerous switchbacks up the side of the mountain.
You arrive at Machu Picchu and there is vibe of excitement. It’s a place where people from all over the world visit. I enjoyed hearing the varied languages. We broke into two smaller groups and, with our tour guides, began the climb. Each step and turn offered greater vistas than the step before.
We were utterly blessed with the most spectacular day and weather. The stunning sunshine was definitely showing off, casting its lovely rays onto the ruins, a place build to honor the Sun God, the mountains – Pachamama or Mother Earth, among other things.
Machu Picchu was bigger than I imagined, spilling down the sides of the mountain in structured, meticulous fashion. I was equally struck by God’s glorious creation. The sharp peaks surrounding the ruins – it was absolutely exquisite. It was one extraordinary view after another – breathtaking in the truest sense. I walked among the ruins, touched the stones and wondered about those who touched them first, carving them, stacking them, piling them into such beautiful precision.
I love any experience or moment that makes me feel small, humbled. Machu Picchu did that in spades. I’ll always be grateful to have been given the opportunity to visit such an extraordinary place.
On a personal note, I feel so blessed that I was able to stand on the top of that mountain with my daughter, and that I was well enough to do it. Last year, I would have had to miss it. So grateful that we now have all these amazing photos in that brilliant sunshine, connecting to a mysterious history in a culture/world we’ve only begun to know.
This trip was a gift!
When the docs told me I’d be wrapping up treatment, I just wanted to celebrate with everyone and anyone who would come have a drink with me. I got the wild idea to just say ‘hey, I’ll be hanging out here from 6-10p please stop by so I can give you a big hug.’
It was a little bold – I mean what if no one came? I knew my sis would be there and I figured, worse case scenario, she and I would sit there having some wine and there’s nothing worse case about that. So what could it hurt?
I was beyond delighted by the turnout, the joy, the hugs, the love and support that came pouring into the bar.
Thank you dear sweet family and friends – I love you all!
I remember standing in the hallway at work, which is the only place one can receive phone calls in that building. It was my ‘nurse navigator’ – a person assigned to me by… well I’m not quite sure – the hospital, the insurance company? who knows. At any rate, she was rattling off some cancer information, telling me I was going to have to have chemotherapy and that I was going to have to have a port put in my neck.
That wasn’t entirely correct but that’s what she said. A port put in my neck!?!?!? I cried in the parking lot – which was a theme central to this whole cancer experience. Crying in parking lots.
I hung up and left work early. I envisioned me walking around looking like Frankenstein, but bald. A bald Frankenstein with those things poking out of my neck.
(I do like that hair though and I almost have enough to make that style work!)
While the port was not in my neck and I’m told they’re a real game-changer as far as treatments go, I’ll be verrrrrry anxious to get it out.
The port is a medical device under one’s skin these days (I think they used to be on top of the skin which would be awful – having to keep it clean and such). You go in for a quick procedure, they knock you out, place this port just below the collarbone and it runs directly into your vein and straight into your heart – that beautiful pump then sends the chemo meds throughout your body.
Seems almost barbaric, doesn’t it? Sending all that right to the heart?
To be honest, I still had no idea what they were talking about and, as odd as it sounds, I didn’t really have time to Google much before my procedure (though I had figured out by that point that it wasn’t in my neck)
So here it was.
I woke up with this thing under my skin.
You can see the top part is where it goes into my vein, yes you can feel it. The bottom part is that port thing. I hated it immediately. I didn’t think I’d be able to sleep, I worried about hugging people. And it iiiiiiiiiiitched! That first weekend maybe for a week I thought I was going to lose my mind. It just itched. All the time. All… the… time.
That part did calm down. I put my numbing cream on for my treatments as having them poke a needle into it is less than pleasant. And there I sat.
There’s the blessed port working for me I guess. I hated it. It made me feel like a cancer patient, which I know I was, but I hated it. Every single nurse tells me how lucky I am to have one. I guess getting chemo through your arms veins just ruins them and your veins can be difficult for nurses to find so that makes it even worse – more pokes.
As the summer dragged on, my annoyance with the port did too. Every single bra strap just rubbed and rubbed and rubbed on it. It was very uncomfortable. When I’d talk to the nurses they’d all shrug and say ‘Yea well you’re thin so it pokes out more.’ That was the answer- that was all anyone could give me. No one offered solutions, no one helped – they just told me how lucky I was to have one.
With desperation being the mother of invention, I found myself in the foot care aisle at the grocery store. I had to find something that could protect this damn port from my bra straps and a bandaid wasn’t enough.
Enter the callous cushion. Ridiculous, right? Also brilliant. I put one on the port, slapped a bandaid over the top and my bra strap sat over the top of that damn thing and I couldn’t feel it anymore. Of course, it added to the port bulge under my shirt and I was continually worried about my shirt gaping at any point and someone seeing a callous cushion stuck to my chest. But you can see here that bra seam, RIGHT on the port, was just unbearable otherwise.
As the year has worn on, I’ve gotten bras that do not have a seam there and that has helped tremendously. As any self-respecting woman knows, buying new bras is a pain and not cheap. For female port-sporters, I LOVE the Revolution bra from Knix – NO seams!
Here I am on a lovely summer patio enjoying a lovely glass of wine. And here’s what’s gong on under my shirt.
It’s miserable.
And it’s coming to an end! As my RN sister said, “The happiest patients I have are the ones coming in for port removal.”
I’m hoping that’ll happen this month.
Erica Hansen 