Say Hello

I began this blog before I even realized what I was endeavoring to do. A couple years down the road into single motherhood and still licking my wounds from a long and troubled divorce process, I needed an outlet. So in February of 2011, like thousands upon thousands of other folks around the globe, I began to blog. (Still feels a little strange using blog as a verb, but there it is.)

Eleven years in and some six hundred and fifty posts later, there are over two thousand subscribers, and the blog has been visited by folks in over 100 countries. I feel really lucky to have this invisible lifeline to the world. There have been times when just knowing I have friends somewhere out there has kept me from sinking into a hopeless funk. So thanks for being there for us and for coming along on our life’s adventures.

If you’d like to say hi, please send me an email – or you may find me, Elizabeth Conant, on the iconic Facebook. 

Hillhousewoman on Instagram

late march 2012 034

25 thoughts on “Say Hello

  1. Well, I think it’s awesome!

    Who knew your writing voice was as lovely as your singing one. Hi from Francine & me in NYC. Hope to see you soon.


  2. Hey there,

    I went looking for a few old friends tonight, and who did I manage to come across by Liz Conant from my teen years – I think we met in youth group at St. Augustine’s. I remember trading off playing the songs we had each written, at your piano. And I think that the only time I ever played a harpsichord was in your house. And you helped me find and recruit Scott Bennett to be the drummer for my short lived band way back when – now he writes songs with Brian Wilson!

    I’d love to hear from you and find out where life has taken you!

    Bob Purse
    Arlington Heights, IL

  3. Hi Elizabeth, After 6 tries I was finally able to get my fat fingers to spell the URL correctly to look at the blog! Love the studio. Scott

  4. Hi guys, its Thomas and Lucas from Woods Seafood. We just came to check out the website and have found the website amazing. Good luck and I hope to talk to you again.


    1. woo hoo! how happy are we that you actually kept the card and found us out here in the world! We enjoyed sitting next to you and hope life has us crossing paths again one day. :)

  5. Hi Liz, I’ll honk towards NYC as we pass you going to Hofstra on Long island to pick up my daughter Emily.

  6. Hi Liz,
    Your talent at writing is remarkable. I have conflicting feelings of awe at the style and flow of words and emotions, and the feeling of hurt and sorrow they convey. I go past the words and realize that these are your emotions. As one who knows and loves you, I feel some of the pain and loss you feel. I hate to see anyone having to bear this type of grief, yet I realize what better therapy can there be than letting those feelings pour out of you. Some relief comes. I hope through all this, you never forget the wonder that is you. You have so many wonderful attributes and gifts that you have managed to grow through all the hurt. You add value to those around you and to those who read your thoughts. Being a mother has taught you the value and beauty of putting someone else’s needs before your own. If I could only find the words, the language to truly tell you how wonderful you are. My shortcomings with words will have to do, and all I can say is I truly love you.


  7. Oh Jeff, I don’t know what to say. How can you be so kind? I debated publishing the most recent post, it was quite graphic and emotional – no doubt you’ve read it. I’m surprised that this topic is still so forward in my mind… thanks for supporting me in all this. You got it right – the expression of it in this blog is my own therapy. That and the love of friends like you keeps me smiling in spite of it all. xoxo to you both

  8. Hi there. I live in the UK, but for 6 years (’95-’01) was resident in Chicago. Loved the music scene, spent many happy evenings at Metro, Lounge Ax, the Empty Bottle etc. Loved the local bands too, Motorhome, the Pulsars and especially the Aluminum Group. I was listening to Plano recently, looking at the credits, and wondering “Hmm, I wonder, who is Liz Conant, and what is she up to?” To cut to the chase, a sequence of internet clicks led me here. And I’m glad to have come across your blog; it’s fantastic, really well-written. While I can see you’ve had some difficult times lately, I can see too that you’re striving to stay positive. And your son is a credit to you. All the best from Edinburgh.

    1. wow – how very sweet to hear. Actually pulled out an old TAG cd the other day and had a listen. Good stuff indeed. I’d bet we might have inhabited the same spaces at the same time.. or have friends in common, never know. Thanks for the energetic support, Andrew. Great to meet you.

  9. Liz! It’s great to see life has treated you well… I saw the photo of our group that you posted and it took me back to a GOOD PLACE with a lot of pleasant memories…Thank You… Hit me back, we got a lot of catching up to do…. Ace

  10. Hi Elizabeth. Elliott here. I was unaware of your life and all the twists and turns. Geez. Talk about ordering off the menu. I had no idea. When I left Evanston in 2001 I lost contact with almost everyone and everything associated with that place and those years. I was married and then I wasn’t. What seemed so right turned so wrong. I have myself to blame, of course. There are some things that I wanted so badly that I was blind and could not read the sign of the times. The red flags. The early warning signs. But before we parted company Lynn and I adopted a wonderful little girl from Guatemala. Ella turned 12 yesterday. Over the years a perfect storm gathered force and I found myself in abject poverty. My three adult children inexplicably, mysteriously and frustratingly have estranged themselves from me.

    Then I got cancer. I never dreamed that that was on the menu. I have fought back for three years, and now I’m feeling almost normal. There is no detectable malignancy — thank God — but everything is different. After being out of commission for three years, I’m working my way back toward being more normal. But of course much of the work I used to do is gone, all my money is gone, but I have wonderful friends and I still believe I’m a lucky guy. My personal music has never been better, and most days I really like my life.

    Where are you geographically? My fantasy is that I drop in for a visit and clean the chicken coop for you.

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