When we designed our house, we included a piano niche. So literally from the ground up, we designed music into the house. The piano in the niche is a 1973 Rhodes 88 suitcase piano. I bought it on eBay after wanting one for 15 years.

Austin is a music city. The kind of place where a Saturday afternoon gig at a book store has a warm-up act. I’m as likely to have a guitar pick in my pocket as spare change. And my suspicion that this is common was confirmed during a show at the Continental Club. The lead had misplaced his last pick and asked if anyone in the audience had one. Three arms were out stretched to the stage before I could grab mine. He might as well have asked if anyone had a Fender Medium.

Last weekend I got myself out on a stage. Something I hadn’t done in a long time. And I did something I had not done before. I sang lead. I sing in the house all the time (and even more in the car (I stopped caring if I look silly a long time ago)). First, I know how to sing into the air, not into a microphone. Second, I can sing and play piano, and sing and play guitar, but in this band I was on drums. Singing while playing drums is a whole other thing. Third, I’m a Texan who slicks his hair and wears chunky glasses, and this was a Buddy Holly song. I don’t know about other parts of the country, but in Texas you don’t mess with Willie, or Buddy. So, if you’re going around looking like him and you sing his song, you gotta do right by Buddy. Anyway, I did my durndest. Video below. You be the judge.

Meanwhile, I’ve got a boy learning piano. He’s got his mom’s perfect pitch and he’s new enough to not know what’s difficult. This is from about 18 months ago. Key changes, crunchy chords at the end, it’s great.

As of this posting the video has had over 117 thousand views, and 300 comments. The kid’s a superstar. I’m looking forward to the elementary talent show in two weeks where he’s going to blow them away.

Christiane has an amazing voice. On the rare occasion that I get to hear her sing, I squirm and tear with giddy delight. I have no recording of her. You’ll just have to believe me.

That leaves us with the littlest bits. I gave Baby Erwin some light pitch training very early and at 6 months she could sing a note if I played it on the piano. For now, she just likes to dance, clown, and scream when Dad plays.

6yo has his own thing going on. He’s brimming with talent, but cannot be coached. He chants and beat-boxes and can lay down an authoritative groove on our drum set.  At six his voice is rich and full of character. It’s truly unique. Tonight he played a song on our old Rhodes that would break your heart. A little later he and his li’l sister rocked out. And I have the video to prove it. Check out his eyebrows on the chord change.

So this makes me wonder. Am I setting my kids up for the rotten life of a musician? No money, no health insurance. My parents were probably wise to steer me away from music as a profession. I chose electrical engineering over percussion as a major in college (and graduated with an art degree). On the one hand I want to encourage my kids to go for it, whatever it is. The philosophy that you can do anything, just promise me you’ll be damned good at it. On the other hand, there are professions where only a tiny fraction can make a decent living.

Eh, probably over thinking the whole thing. In a few years I’d love to take all of them to the Kerrville Folk Festival and set them loose on the world.

Dear World,

How are you?  It has been a long time since we’ve caught up and there is so much to tell you that I don’t know where to begin.

If you hadn’t heard through the grapevine, I am pregnant with Baby Erwin #4, and I have caught the nesting bug, so it is about dang time I started blogging again, don’t you think?  You wouldn’t want to miss out on a second of my victory-gardening-slash-gourmet-cooking-slash-picture-hanging-slash-closet-organizing-slash–pillow-fluffing-slash-punch-listing tom foolery, now would you?

And when I’m not here being all Mrs. Pert and Perky, you might want to check for me and my busy self over at Crestview Doors where I spend the remainder of my time when I am not micromanaging my three adorable rug rats, two dogs, cat and lovable other half.

In the meantime, here is a sneak preview of the Golden Showers rose bushes I planted along the fence next to the driveway today:

Wish me luck because Maude knows how I can kill perfectly viable plant life.

Ciao, World!  Have a Flirtini for me!

Christiane

A few weeks ago, the Modhouse family joined us for brunch, and I was telling Paul how I like that his houseblog isn’t always about the house; he tends to blog about daily life too. It made me think there might be things about our fellow housebloggers we wonder about from time to time but don’t ask because, well, the houses are about the blogs!
So, go ahead! Ask us any three things you’ve always wondered about us zany Erwins! But be prepared. I’m sure to ask back

Erwin House was broken into yesterday. We were very lucky: only a few items were stolen, no one was home or harmed, and a neighbor witnessed the entire thing and was able to give a detailed report to the police. Our homeowner’s insurance will cover the loss and damages.
I suppose I spoke too soon. Maybe this year we should be concentrating on making Erwin House safer? I’m still spooked.

There is a story about us in the Homes section of the Austin American Statesman today.
Best line in the story:

Its distinctive flat roof is now angled like the propped-up lid of a grand piano.

That’s all. We’ll let the pros do the writing today.

We re-designed! Thanks for your patience as Erwin House goes through yet another renovation. This time, just the blog is getting a face-lift

Last Sunday was Baby Erwin’s first birthday. Certinly the most meaningful birthday I have ever attended. The memories of her birth came flooding back. It was nothing like we had imagined, but it was an exceptional experience.
We woke up at 2am, and she was born 2 hours later at the foot of the bed. I, two midwives, one neighbor, two sons, a cat, and four paramedics were in attendance. A massive thuderstorm marked her entrance. By sunrise, the house was quiet and we were all sleeping. We woke up a family of five.

Well, just when you thought there weren’t enough residents at the Erwin House… along comes Frodo.

Welcome to our new neighbor, a juvenile Eastern Screech Owl, Frodo (who we named this evening while drinking hot cocoa on the deck) arrived this morning, much to my imminent surprise. I had just returned from dropping off 7yo at school when I looked up from the dash of Winona (my minivan) to see Frodo sitting atop our jogging stroller handle. I literally rubbed my eyes in disbelief.
I immediately emailed the neighborhood listserve to find out what the deal was. What kind of owl is this? And what do I do about it? Since vicious chows and ferrel cats often run amok in our neighborhood, I was worried about this little guy’s safety.
A glut of replies filled my inbox (along with the daily 200 or so emails I get regarding the Violet Crown Festival), and we eventually purchased an owl shack for our wee guest.
Along with Trixie and Piper, I am pleased to welcome Frodo into the Erwin Family. What a wonderful surprise!

We welcome Piper to the Erwin House. We got her about 2 weeks ago, and she has doubled in size going from fluff ball kitten with a hobby-horse run to fearless jumping adolescent cat with hints of the graceful adult to come.
She plays gently with the baby, reserving her claws for me and the dog. She follows the boys around adoringly despite the risk of being scooped up by the neck (or foot).
And she saves the best snuggles for people with cat allergies.

We had to cancel our vacation to New Orleans for Mardi Gras. One sick kid would have been enough, but we had three. So what do you do to make the weekend special? You get a dang dog, that’s what you do.
We started out at our local animal shelter. They seemed to only have Labradors, which Christiane vetoed, and Pit Bulls, which I vetoed. Saturday came and went. No dog. We got a little cranky.
On Sunday we went to the Town Lake animal shelter. We spent 2 hours filling out forms, waiting, being interviewed, and eventually playing with the only acceptable dog they had. She was sweet, and we said we would take her. We got back in line. Twenty minutes later they tell us, “Sorry but that dog is taken and we already have a backup. Buh-bye.” We got really cranky.
So we started hitting the pet stores. Petsmart and Petco host Paw Match dog rescues on Sundays and we went to 4 of them. Rows and rows of Labradors and Pit Bulls. Eventually we found ourselves at a Petsmart in Round Rock. And there she was.
I asked if I could visit with the white one. They got me a leash. She was so sleepy she could barely stand. The rescue person said she had been playing with kids all day. Good answer.
We paid the fee, stocked up at Petsmart (they don’t call them smart for nothin’), named her, and took her home.
She is the best dog ever.

Updated to add: Her name is Trixie