Last Saturday I flipped open my laptop, stomped over to my Amazon wish list and purchased a new camera body. I’ve hemmed and hawed over a new body for YEARS. Last Saturday I’d had enough. My DSLR Rebel is 9 years old. I’ve shot tens of thousands of photos for the last decade. Hell, there are 3,000 on my iPhone at this very moment. I love photography. Fuck, Sheri. Buy the goddamned camera already. That’s kind of how that went. Thanks, MasterCard, for the heavy lifting.

A few hours later I got a message from a friend in Mountain View, CA, asking if I’d be interested in house/pet sitting for about 10 days. Um….DUH. I would just need to talk with work to be sure I could work virtually from the Bay Area. Because I am always reaching to the highest shelf in every life experience, I began scouring my brain for the larger benefit to the situation. 

I texted 4 or 5 friends in California letting them know I’d likely be there towards the end of June and seeking meetings in social tech, media and food. I texted a few friends here the same thing. I jumped onto the city of Mountain View’s parks and rec site to research camps (because of course I’d take the kids). I touched base with Expedia to get an idea on airfare. I started plotting days in my head. Weekend beach trip. Last Saturday at the Ferry Building Farmers Market. Meeting at Twitter. Chasing down that blogger and this magazine and whichever brands I could get my hands on. Who knows about any startups? I want to beta test my face off! My head was spinning like a top and buzzing with white noise.

My 2-3 early June music prospects had declined, so I all but abandoned Sheri’s Living Room for June. There was no time. 

I talked with my boss about the opportunity. Later in the week I got authorization for adventure.

On Friday I began taking all the factors into consideration. That day I also had 5 or 6 meetings, one of which was a lunch between the 5 past presidents of my Rotary club along with next year’s president. During lunch, Andy said something I’ve heard him say dozens of times in the 6 years I’ve known him:

Priorities are like arms. If you think you have more than two you’re crazy.

I’m sitting in a world of credit card debt, robust work load, volunteerism, personal life and parenthood. Each one of these aspects contain at least 5 unfinished projects that are grossly overdue. Except the credit cards…they get paid in a timely fashion (only because I hired a bookkeeper 6 months ago). Here I was looking to Add More Things.

I was crazy. 

On Friday night, still buzzing from the possibility of the trip, I stood in my kitchen making dinner. Spotify blared Joy Kills Sorrow as I diced a peeled sweet potato. I clearly felt the truth surfacing… stay home. I need to focus on the things important to me right now. Music. Peace. Seeing a few things through. I need to skip this particular impulsive decision. I need to play with my new camera (which arrived Friday to remind me why my MasterCard couldn’t shoulder 3 plane tickets) and book some music and see family and chase down the calm. 

On Saturday morning I messaged my friend and she graciously didn’t hate my face for telling her no. I messaged my bestie and she congratulated me on my adult decision. I messaged my boss and he agreed that it was a good call to pass. I messaged the booking agent in Austin and secured Matt the Electrician.

I messaged Andy to borrow a great lens for my new 70D. Then I focused.






John Fullbright is a genius

There is a young guy with an old soul from Oklahoma who I’ve been fortunate enough to catch several times in concert. On Saturday I literally sat 4 feet from John Fullbright as he played this song.  I heard it for the first time this summer and found it beautiful, but since Saturday it has somehow slipped into my DNA. I can’t stop listening to it. Not kidding, I’ve heard it at least 30 times since Saturday. #obsessed


And because I’m obsessed, I transcribed the lyrics. You are welcome. 

When You’re Here by John Fullbright

Ever changing 
Ever moving 
Ever finding 
Ever losing 
Every moment of our choosing bears a cost.
As for lonely I can show you how to live a life alone
All it takes is getting used to getting lost.
Some are lovers 
Some are leeches 
Some are flings on sandy beaches 
Some are silent ’til the chances are all gone.
The queen of hearts dreams a lover
From that cold, cold king above her
While the joker makes his bed up all alone.
But don’t I feel like something when you’re here?
Don’t I feel my lungs losing air?
Don’t I feel like I can show you 
I’m the one you can go to 
When you need another heartbeat near?
Don’t I feel like something when you’re here?

And in my heart stands a scarecrow
If he’s hurt he doesn’t say so
And he chases everything he loves away
But at night when it’s colder
There’s a bluebird on his shoulder
And he whispers that he’ll hold her one bright day.

But don’t I feel like something when you’re here?
Don’t I feel my lungs losing air?
Don’t I feel like I can show you 
I’m the one you can go to 
When you need another heartbeat near?
Don’t I feel like something when you’re here? 


If you need me tonight I’ll be curled under my Christmas tree weeping myself to sleep. 

There was a concert in my living room

A little while back I texted my friends and veteran house concert troubadours on their opinion of my house as an appropriate venue for hosting a show. Not their show….just a show. David thought I might be able to get 30 or so people in the space. 

I never did anything with that information. It was just another one of my Beautiful Ideas

Maybe a week later he asked me if I’d like to host a house concert? A lovely woman by the name of Marian Call was embarking upon a tour across the states. She and David had talked about getting together for a show for a while but it never seemed to work out. I think. Maybe that’s the story? It’s the new truth because it’s late and god-so-help-me, I just want to get this story told. So I can tell all the other ones waiting in the wings. 

My answer was yes. Actually, since we’re making up stuff around here, I was all, “Oh hell yesss, muthafucka!”

Profanity aside, I truly was excited to have them play here. I am a fan of David’s band, Dr. Pants, and to have that glory happening under my roof seemed like a no-brainer. I had never heard of Marian Call, but I trust his judgement.

Bryan, Marian’s guitarist for this leg of her tour, had flown in Saturday night and Sunday morning I scooted to his hotel to pick him up. Later in the afternoon, we three moved sofas, unfolded chairs and ::boom:: a venue was born.

So...this is happening.

 FYI to any indie folk artist who are looking for a place to have a house concert in Oklahoma City, my house seems as if it could hold 45 or so people. The final count for Sunday was right around 30, so things didn’t get crazy. In fact, things only got cooler as the evening wore on. 

 Right when they were supposed to, people arrived and they all had their proper donations. Some even had extra and I think the bands  had a successful night in Casa de Sheri. I had a successful night, too, as a friend from Texas brought up a case of bottled Fat Tire each for David and I. As I cleaned up after the show I proudly tossed vegetables from my crisper drawer to make room for all those lovely bottles. 

I don’t remember a whole lot of detail from the show. There were a lot of friends in the room, which was a perfectly acceptable distraction in my book, plus I was knee deep in Fat Tire and whatnot. Sitting here tonight, I can think of ways to improve for next time as a person who wants to be writing about these many adventures upon which she embarks. Perhaps I’ll keep a camera with me? Or….I don’t know….take photos of all these lovely friends who attended? Next time. Next time I will be more present and less flittery. The times lately that I’ve most enjoyed the magic of live music, I’ve been writing words in my head as I’m listening and watching. All systems are go and I’m taking note as to not forget.  

One memory did surface, and it’s one I experience more often and more deeply as I become better friends with David and his wife K.C. I get a little weepy or get chills at least once during the evening, whether it be a Dr. Pants set or a K.C. Clifford set. To see people I love do the work they love makes my heart swell and makes me want to be a more open and vulnerable person. This is how music makes me better. I watch their vulnerability and it gives me joy and strength, even when it involves throwing donuts to a captive audience. You know what…. ESPECIALLY when it involves throwing donuts into a captive audience. 







Marian was delightful! She sings a lot about nerdy / geeky things, but then just funny / cool life observations, too. And she uses a vintage typewriter as a percussion instrument. Correction, she brilliantly uses a vintage typewriter as a percussion instrument.

And she handed out props for songs…

And Dr. Pants did what Dr. Pants does…

And it was glorious.

A big, huge thank you to David Broyles, K.C. Clifford, Marian Call and Bryan Ray for being so lovely to the newbie and for helping make a wonderful house concert happen. All I did was provide a venue and place for two musicians to sleep. They did all the magic and I’m, once again, grateful for the daily miracles. Sunday had miracles stacked to the rafters. <3

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