peevish mama

If you’re married to someone who loves The Black Keys as much as Doctor Dash does, you end up loving them too. This is off their new album, El Camino, coming December 6, and it’s an awesome song with an even better video. Y’all know how I feel about dancing – in all its wondrous and quirky permutations. This guy makes me happy. Enjoy. And maybe shake what yo’ mama gave you a little too. Happy Monday!

And did you notice that person peeking out of the “office” window at 30 seconds? What must she be thinking?

Check out this cool graphic depiction of the evolution of music. It’s sort of mind boggling and I can’t help but think of the spread of contagion – of the musicians, elders, kids and dj’s carrying this music from place to place back when music had to move physically, if it was to move at all. Heady, no?

Also, on this very tired Monday morning after a late arrival from Boston last night, I just want to curl up with the musical equivalent of a warm fuzzy blanket. Enjoy Lykke Li’s cover of Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow – so pretty, as is she. I’m intrigued by her because she’s quirky and weird – the kind of girl who would put bells on her ankles and sing a cappella in a public square. She played to a sold out First Ave last night while we were on an airplane hurtling through the night. I would have liked to have seen her, but I wouldn’t have traded this weekend for a hundred shows. We went for Dash’s cousin’s wedding, and in an absolutely jam packed weekend, we got to squeeze in lots of fiercely lovely time with our family and all of our East Coast peeps. It was intense, fun, and as always, bittersweet. I miss everyone.

(Photo of Buddy and his wooly friends taken by Mike Braucher of Braucher’s Sunshine Harvest Farm)

what all the vendors at the farmers market do after the markets close for the season? Well, I decided to find out and boy, was it ever inspiring to chat with and get to know my fave farmers, fishmongers, bakers, ranchers, cheesemakers and chefs from the Kingfield Farmers Market. I know some of you are Kingfield luvahs like me, so you’ll find this little sneak peak behind the curtains especially interesting. Check it out!

These fellas were here on Friday and thanks to Creeper Bud and her uncanny knack for winning things on the radio, I got the see them perform twice. During the day they played a short set with lots of Q and A from The Current’s Bill DeVille at the tiny Minnesota Public Radio UBS Forum. They are adorable, talented, and so very soulful. They guys looked rumpled and sleepy but sounded anything but – and listening to Taylor Goldsmith’s honest and thoughtful answers to DeVille’s questions just made me love them even more. Being in that intimate space allowed the story telling to shine, and really that’s Goldsmith’s strength. The words, his words, are very beautiful. That night at the packed and sold-out First Ave, the four of them morphed into a bigger louder band and they completely swallowed up the adoring crowd. Goldsmith looked almost feral at times. Not sure why, but I am always taken aback when a folksy, Americana band starts to shred. So good. Here’s Time Spent in Los Angeles, by Dawes.

Paul loved to sleep with his mother. Sleep is still most perfect,
in spite of hygienists, when it is shared with a beloved.
The warmth, the security and peace of soul, the utter comfort from
the touch of the other, knits the sleep, so that it takes the body
and soul completely in its healing. Paul lay against her and slept,
and got better; whilst she, always a bad sleeper, fell later on
into a profound sleep that seemed to give her faith. Ch. 4, Sons and Lovers, by D.H. Lawrence

I read Sons and Lovers years ago and have been carrying this quotation around ever since. I even figured out a way to shoe-horn it into a terrible short story once. I think the sentiment is lovely and so true. When my kids were babies, I was never too quick to shoo them to a crib. I always knew their time sleeping with us was finite, making it ever the more warm and delicious.

During the weeks that Doctor Dash works nights, the kids have started a sleeping-in-my-bed rotation. Aside from the squabbles about who gets to go first in a given week, I have to admit that I like it. They all sleep so differently, my children.

Saint James always reads later into the night than I do – sleep plays hard to get, but then keeps a gauzy hold on him late into the morning, leaving lingering yawns and puffy eyes. Supergirl is such an early bird, she falls asleep pretty much as soon as her head hits the pillow. It’s like a little switch gets flicked and she’s out. In the morning, the opposite is true and she’s bright eyed at the word go. In between, she’s as still as a stone. Devil Baby fights sleep, but once it claims her, she sleeps a long time. She seems to go on epic journeys in her sleep – her legs fluttering through water, climbing rocks, running on dirt roads. She’s the hardest one to sleep with, but the one I need to do it with the most. After a fraught day, with too much yelling and stubbornness on both of our parts, sleep washes it all away and we find our peace, deep in the night with her little legs strewn over mine.

Just like when they were babies, I know this is temporary. At some point Dash will stop working nights or they’ll just get too old to want to come to my bed. But for now, I do so love waking to a skinny bum in the small of my back or a little hand clutching mine – and hearing the murmurs and sighs of their secret sleep lives.

There are so many songs, so many many songs that would be loosely apropos for Halloween. I’m just going to pick one because I love it. And I’m thinking when you listen, you’ll remember that you do too. Enjoy The Ghost in You by The Psychedelic Furs.

Happy Halloween, my friends. Best day of the year, no?

Did you see the piece in the Sunday NY Times about iPod’s tenth (!) birthday on October 23? It’s an interview with David Levitin, a neuroscientist from McGill and it touches on some of the very things I was chewing on in a post I called Wrapped Up in a Song from 2009. I love that post, I really do. And I do wonder: what are we losing by having so much music at our fingertips, by listening to our vast libraries on shuffle, by picking and choosing the songs that we like off albums instead of ingesting the thing as a whole? Levitin has some answers for us.

So hey, looking through my list, I’m thinking not too shabby. We had a great weekend and for the first time in a long time, I feel kinda sorta on top of things, although I’m sure I’ll be back on that hamster wheel as soon as the school bell rings tomorrow morning. The week-end stretched and yawned, accommodating new plans, unexpected rain and the yen to be still.

1. get our pumpkins One is even shaped like a Frankenstein head!

2. go to an apple orchard. We left this until Sunday and it was just too damp and intermittently rainy to go. Maybe next week end. Or next year.

3. rake the damn leaves Go Dash, Go!

4. make waffles

5. square away Halloween costumes for the little peeps. Anyone know where I can get a chicken costume that doesn’t cost 70 bucks?

7. work on Supergirl’s book puppet project Done. Cutest Ralph the Motorcycle Mouse ever.

8. go see the Minnesota Stars play in the Championship Series on Saturday night – along with the pre-game Joy of the People soccer frolic and tailgating. We bundled up, brought tons of blankets and had a blast watching the Stars dominate the Ft. Lauderdale Strikers. Score was 3-1 and the Stars scored all the goals, even their own. Eeek! You guys, there are a lot of soccer people in this town. Lovely to huddle into bleachers with all of them. Shine On, Stars!

9. make pizzas Go Dash, Go!

10. go to the farmers market (always) Since it was so damp on Sunday morning, I buzzed over by myself. Red kale, regular kale, garlic, squash, skirt steak, eggs, spinach, donuts, done.

11. have people over Sometimes a last minute, impromptu fest is the best way to go. Mixed up some peeps who didn’t know each other, included the chitlins, and braised up a big pork butt from Clancy’s. It was a hilarious night (and delicious, I think).

12. go for a hike.

13. pull the dead flowers out of the damn window boxes I was a BEAST in the garden on Saturday. I pointed some speakers out the windows and went to town. Not only did I clean out the window boxes, I weeded the whole garden and planted 70 tulip bulbs. I did it people! I finally did it! But listen, planting bulbs is some hard-ass work! Now I’ll need to watch Bravo TV for two days to recover. Phew.

All the kids got a couple play dates each and we also finally tried out The Anchor Fish and Chips before the soccer game on Saturday night and fell head over heels. Cool vibe, great food. And on Sunday, after a lazy brunch at Sun Street Breads (we are all crazy for the egg, bacon and cheese biscuits) I took the brood on a surprise visit to Sugar Sugar at the suggestion of Supergirlfan. What an adorable candy shop! I’m not even a candy person, but the owner has such a beautiful aesthetic and collection of old-timey and pretty candy, that I was completely charmed. This place is a little jewel, so if you haven’t been, Go! and go often, so she sticks around. Lovely.

Here’s that handsome Ralph.

Here’s a little bonus for a lazy Sunday. I’m just besotted with this. Watch and enjoy a young and adorable Rod Stewart. And holy skinny pants! What a bunch of dandies! Damn. I love the part when they try to kick around a soccer ball. The guy in the little white stacked heel booties wasn’t able to play. Were they the first ones to do this? Because Rivers Cuomo busted out a soccer ball at the Weezer show this summer and I believe Justin Bieber does this too. Is this a thing? Who was the first? Anyone know? How odd and yet awesome.

All these years in, and I still manage to be taken unawares by MEA weekend. The kids have four days off – most people go somewhere. Me, I just wake up surprised to not have to make lunches. In fairness to myself, usually Dash is working so trips aren’t an option. This time, however, he’s got time off too. We briefly entertained a jaunt to a cabin – somewhere we could take Foxy, but we didn’t get our acts together. And you know what? I’m happy to be sticking here. We’ve been going going going – no time to breathe, no time for anything, so to be here with four days yawning before us feels as luxurious as a spa. Well, that’s overstating it for sure, but it feels good. Here’s what’s on my very loose, open to tampering list:

1. get our pumpkins

2. go to an apple orchard

3. rake the damn leaves

4. make waffles

5. square away Halloween costumes for the little peeps

7. work on Supergirl’s book puppet project

8. go see the Minnesota Stars play in the Championship Series on Saturday night – along with the pre-game Joy of the People soccer frolic and tailgating.

9. make pizzas

10. go to the farmers market (always)

11. have people over

12. go for a hike

13. pull the dead flowers out of the damn window boxes

Lucky 13. We’ll see how much of this we actually do, but it helps to have a list. Happy long weekend, all. May it be as busy or restful as you need it to be.

When someone asks me why I continue to write for Simple Good and Tasty, I’ve got lots of reasons, but one of the big ones is that my editors have always been awesome. I wrote a post about roasting ugly ass tomatoes for soup and I wasn’t sure whether that was going to fly. It flew and it makes me chuckle to have written what is by all other accounts a straight piece on using up late season tomatoes with the term ugly ass sprinkled throughout. Like a little kid who just got away with something, it just kind of makes me happy. I love all words equally, and sometimes those black sheep are just what you need to make a point.

I want to give a little shout out to Soul Daddy for having slipped the delectable Mr. Hawthorne onto my plate. He was so silky smooth last night at First Ave, we could have eaten him up with a small plastic ice cream spoon. In an upside down move, Dash and I skipped the main act (Chromeo) and swooped in for Mayer Hawthorne, shook it, went to dinner at Tilia and were home by eleven. It was a Tuesday night, after all, and it has been a ridiculously busy week, after all, and although I’m super intrigued by Chromeo, the little I do know of them indicates that they are a PARTY band to be enjoyed as close to the stage as possible and with a succession of giant Coronas in hand. Fending off the Tuesday night pull of the couch, we stepped out to see this boy and he was hugely entertaining. He’s unapologetically sexy smooth, but a little tongue in cheek. His falsetto makes me weak in the knees. He clearly draws from the old Detroit crooners, but he wears that dapper blazer lightly. The mojo is very much his own and his sneakers are firmly planted in the now. He did a cover of Snoop Dog’s Gansta Luv that made my week – or made me weak. Both. Yes. Oof. Is it getting hot in here? Take a listen. Y’all, it is HARD to do better Snoop than Snoop and Hawthorne just might have done it. The lad has got two speeds. I like him slow.

On Sunday night we went to see the Minnesota Lynx play game one of the WNBA finals against the Atlanta Dream. They’re the best team going in Minnesota right now and it was such a blast. LOUD music, rowdy fans, plentya hootin and hollerin, and complete, unabashed GIRL POWER. Damn!

I can’t decide if it was better for my girls to see that or my boy to see that. GO LYNX!

p.s. secretly, I’d love to go back with a bunch of ladies, drink a ton of beers and then go dancing. Maybe the Lynx would like to come with us?

Y’all know I love street art. This is a neat peek into the work of two ladies (Olek and Swoon) who are pushing the boundaries of contemporary art. I especially love what Swoon says about her art being an attempt to construct a space for a certain kind of connection, a certain kind of wonder, a certain kind of unlikeliness and for the things that you think that there isn’t room for or time for in the life that we’re living.

So picture this. A bare bulb – the old kind, with one of those little metallic pull strings hanging down. As I watch this, it’s as if someone reaches into the dark space above my head and pulls the string. Maybe it’s because I’m such a word person, but to me, listening to artists talk about their work is equally, if not more, fascinating than the work itself.

Connection. Wonder. Unlikeliness. For the things we don’t have room or time for in this life.

Amen.

Sometimes, when one goes dancing with one’s betties, and the music is really good and the beers are 2 for 1, one loses one wits – a bit – and one leaves without closing out the tab. On Thursday morning I woke with a start. Damn. I was going to have to drive back down to Clubhouse Jager to get my credit card. Big Red, Lunch Lady Rocker Chick and I had gone to Transmission for LLRC’s birthday. I can’t give any details, but fun was had.

Wednesday nights at Jager are, hands down, the happiest place to be in all of the land with DJ Jake Rudh spinning 80’s New Wave and all sorts of lovely music-heads of all ages and stripes geeking out and dancing with wild abandon. Seriously. The moves I can bust out in this environment are high school bedroom mirror material. It is the most free, chill, friendly, goofy scene. My favorites from Wednesday night: a pretty pale girl with a pompadour and a white polka dot dress who did not stop dancing for even one second – formidable!, a tall skinny Tim Burtonesque dude with plaid pants and freaky awesome moves, another tall skinny dude sporting something between a mullet and a rat tail who was way smoother than he should have been, and a foursome of pudgy, gender ambiguous, bespectacled girl/boys.

We don’t, can’t, go to this dance party every week, but once a month is turning into a doable, even dare I say, salutary occurrence. Despite the many PBRs, I wake up with enviable vim and vigor after a night of this. Except that driving back downtown to the scene of my shenanigans with my two little girls in tow to pick up my forgotten credit card seemed like a whole new kind of walk of shame. Unfortunately they don’t open until 4, so I had no choice but to wait until school got out. Damn. I picked Devil Baby and Supergirl up with Foxy Brown in the car, passed back some snacks and vaguely mentioned we had to drive downtown.

Supergirl: Wait. Why do we have to go downtown again?

Me: Forgot my credit card.

Supergirl: Where did you forget it?

Me: That place where I went dancing last night.

Supergirl: Is it a bar?

Me: Yes.

Supergirl: Was there a band?

Me: Nope. Just this great DJ.

Supergirl: How late were you there?

Me: Midnight. [small lie]

Supergirl: Was it fun?

Me: SO fun.

Supergirl: Do you want us to wait in the car?

Me: That would probably be good.

. . . a few moments pass . . .

Supergirl: You know, I’ve always wanted to see the inside of a bar.

. . .

Ten minutes later we’re all inside and I’m paying the tab, having been assured by the lovely redheaded bartender that I was NOT the only one to have forgotten my card last night. Jager looks downright homey in the light of day, with slanting sunlight and the smell of comfort food wafting out of the kitchen. I’m half tempted to stay there for an early dinner with the girls. Supergirl spins on her barstool cooly assessing the hipsters partaking in happy hour and appetizers.

Supergirl: Mom?

Me: Ya?

Supergirl: I just thought of the BEST name for my soccer team!

Me: What?

Supergirl: THE BLOODY MARY’S!

Me: . . .

We were most definitely NOT staying for dinner.