peevish mama

How could I not? Doctor Dash and I travelled to the ‘Lou for a quick 24 hour get-away to see Radiohead and dip our toes into the lives of our dear friends, Dolly and Soul Daddy. Radiohead is one of Dash’s favorite bands, and so, by virtue of exposure, proximity, osmosis and all the rest, one of mine too. He’s the one who spearheaded this adventure, however, and for that, I am grateful.

Not only did we get to have our minds blown by one of the best concerts I’ve ever seen, for realz, we got to do it as two little anonymous people in St. Louis, swallowed up in collective adoration of the band with their very cool, happy, energetic fans. And not only that – this complicated, heady, loud, bad-ass show was sandwiched between lots of beers and laughs and nibbles with Dolly and Soul Daddy. We got to love up their kids, peer around their cute house, perch at their kitchen island and listen to their tunes, while they kept us fed, hydrated, giggling and on-schedule for the show. It was a blast – as lightening quick of a frolic as is humanly possible, with as many words stuffed into 24 hours as humanly possible, but so very satisfying for every little corner of my heart. The shimmer lingers on. (As you can imagine, I was swooning during the entire show, but I swooned particularly deeply when they played this song. I love it so.)

Not for the picky eaters in my house, but man, oh, man, is this soup ever simple to make and tasty to eat. Creamy, divine and as white as that snow that seemed but a figment of our imaginations this winter. Check out my post over at Simple Good and Tasty!

Tonight, crossing the tall bridge at Bryant with Foxy Brown, I glanced down and saw a couple standing on the bike path next to the creek. I looked away, then looked back. The girl flung her arm up in the air and I saw the flash of her phone as she yelled up to me: WE’RE ENGAGED! WOOOHOOO! You know the woohoo that I mean – that sound of exultation that’s unique to American girls, who grow up to be American women and never stop making that sound.

I stopped in my tracks, my mitten at my chest and gasped as the words registered. Engaged! One woohoo deserves another, and I let one fly. Woohoooo! It drifted down to them like a blessing. Congratulations, you guys! You made my night! I yelled as I walked on. Thank god I had decided to take that bridge. I grinned at the girl’s need to shout it from the rooftops – her tall man by her side, thanking me quietly, sheepishly.

And maybe it was the fresh air, or my new furry girl who I love so much, or the fact that I was on my old street, but I started to cry. A burst of tears I didn’t see coming, left as quickly as it came. They weren’t tears of sadness or tears of joy – they were tears of just so much. So much has happened since Dash and I got engaged in my little apartment at 37th and Bryant. The wedding, the babies, the fevers, the jobs, the moves, the birthdays. Life. So much. Life.

And this little couple, getting engaged on a warm leap year night by Minnehaha Creek. Little do they know. It’s just so much.

Hold me closer tiny dancer. Count the headlights on the highway.

Simply because, it’s simply the best. Lost my wits when the band played this on Saturday night at our school dance party in the gym. Thank goodness Dash was close at hand to contain me and spin me around a bit. God, I love this song. No one does it like Elton, though I must say John Frusciante does it pretty fucking well. A little Chili Peppers for fun. 

Valentine’s Day is Dash and my quasi-anniversary. It’s sort of when we started going out, or rather when I stopped playing foolishly, flippantly hard to get. It was 1992, we cooked steak with blue cheese in the creaky blue house on St. Peter’s Street that I shared with five other girls. It seems like a lifetime ago and yet just yesterday.

We pay attention to Valentine’s Day. It’s a good day for me and my man. Some years we cook at home, some years we go out. This year we are stepping out for the Poliça concert. The singer, Channy Moon Caselle, was also in GAYNGS, who I LOVE, and Roma di Luna, who I didn’t know, but is no longer together. Poliça plays around with auto tune to great effect and there are TWO sets of drummers. Caselle is a songbird and the whole mess is cool, hypnotic and SEEEEXXXXXY! Perfect for Tuesday night. After the show we’ll find a perch at a bar and feast. I can’t wait. Tuesday! Tuesday! Let it be Tuesday!

They had a photo booth at that Father Daughter dance they went to. Looking at this picture makes me want to die of sheer joy. In another time and place, the two of them could’ve made an unstoppable mime duo, don’t you think?

 Last week I had the pleasure of curling up on the couch to watch Under the Great White Northern Lights with Dash in the middle of the afternoon. There are some real perks to having a husband who works nights. His first day off after a week of work is a cobwebby affair for him – a day best spent having long lunches and catching a movie. Nothing too taxing, but entertaining enough to keep him awake during the hours he’s usually in a deep sleep. It felt indulgent, almost unseemly to be so firmly ensconced in our basement on a blustery January day, but hey, someone’s got to keep him company.

I loved this movie. If you like the White Stripes, you will love it too. And if you don’t and somehow I can convince you to watch it anyway, I can’t see how you won’t fall head over heels for this band (which is sort of a cruel thing to do to you considering they are no longer a band). No matter, this documentary is cool to look at, gorgeous to listen to and Jack White gives us a generous look into his creative process, which is impressive, fascinating and completely humbling What he does looks effortless, but as we learn, it is anything but.

I really try not to air our dirty laundry on this blog, but I must ask: whattup with Doctor Dash setting the Christmas lights timer for midnight? Don’t get me wrong – I’m grateful he put the lights on the bushes and I’m grateful that he set them on a timer so we don’t have to tramp out there to plug them in every night. But midnight? MIDNIGHT? What are we, eighty? Last week Mister Lady Crow Call pulled around in front to drop us off after the British Advertising Awards (which, oh, were just so good this year!) and our house was all dark and sullen and depressing and sheepish. What a missed opportunity for a bit of picturesque holiday cheer, for a bit of razzle dazzle. Is it too much to ask for a just a little bit of razzle dazzle at the end of the night? I mean, doesn’t he read this blog? Wasn’t I just talking about how much I love Christmas lights? Do we not owe it to our neighbors and all passersby to be festive? I noted my objection right then and there and every day thereafter until he finally caved and moved the timer to – get this: one o’clock! Hooo boy! We are living LARGE people. It’s like Neverland Ranch over here. I’m back to my pestering, because I, unlike he, have faith that my fellow Minneapolitans do not always retire before one a.m. I, unlike he, believe that you all deserve a little late night razzle dazzle. So I’m working on three a.m. If I had my druthers, it would be four, but we all make little compromises.

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?

I’m a lover, not a fighter. Except that I’m a fighter too. Who isn’t? I love this piece in Esquire by Tom Junot on the role of fighting in a marriage. It’s a wise, blunt, realistic and in the end, romantic essay. Dash and I fight (sometimes epically) about stupid stuff and as Junot points out, the same stuff as always. I’m no walk in the park, I tell you. Often I think it’s because we’re lucky enough not to have more serious issues lurking, making us feel like we’re on thin ice. The house is solid, so we have a certain degree of freedom to stamp on the floors and pound the walls. But it’s good to be vigilant, to be careful, to make sure to keep it clean – even at its dirtiest. This was a good reminder that we can fight for all sorts of reasons  - but not to win.

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.

Admittedly, this 41st birthday of yours was lost amidst your week of working nights and a whole hell of a lot of soccer. Just like last year. But also, just like last year, our amusing friends manage to contribute a little levity. Oh, Fox, you crack me up.Dearest Dash, my side kick and fave man on earth: Happy muted, tainted-by-work, birthday. We appreciate every thing you do for us and we love you, you sweet, sweet mofo.

xoxo

I’ve posted a recipe for Irish Rebel Stew over at Simple Good and Tasty. It’s made with beef and Guinness and it’s delicious. Of course. How could it not be? Beef? Beer? Come on. Speaking of beer, my plans for St. Paul shenanigans with da girls had to be cancelled for today – this glorious, sunny, warm, perfect St. Patrick’s Day. Alas. Doctor Dash is coming off a week of nights, so a few beers might be in order this evening. Hope you all get a little green today, in whatever form that takes!

I love it when Doctor Dash doodles. He never uses good paper – only wrinkled scraps and the backs of kids’ old worksheets. They’re intriguing to me – a peek into a part of his mind he doesn’t get to use very much. Sometimes in the daily grind, I forget that this person I live with is actually quite creative, fanciful and a bit of a dreamer. He seems drawn to magical floating cities with gravity defying citizenry and eccentric, vaguely Latin dudes with a story to tell. At least in his latest trail of paper crumbs. He’s probably going to be slightly embarrassed by this, but whatevs – it’s my blog. And I think they’re cool.

Last night Doctor Dash got home from work and the following conversation ensued:

DD: Saw your present!

Me: Oh ya! Do you like it?

DD: Well, is it printed on a thong or something?

Not only is that totally funny to me, I think it’s a fabulous idea. Oh Darling, Let’s Be Adventurers! Hilarious.

Dash and I had a special Valentine’s din with our sweetie-pie brood. I made sure to stick to the big faves: rib eye steak with red chimichurri sauce, Caesar salad, potatoes roasted in olive oil and sea salt, a crispy baguette and brownies. That dinner, simply, is my way of saying to my family: I love you. I love to feed you. I want you to chow until your little bellies are distended. IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou.

Tonight is part two of our Valentine celebration (because why not milk it?) and the dashing Dash and I have gotten a sitter so we can go see the Illusionist and then (fingers crossed) grab a couple of seats at the bar at La Grassa for a late night bite. I’m really excited for this movie – it’s by Sylvain Chomet, the same guy who did The Triplets of Belleville which completely enchanted both us back in the day. Here’s to long, drawn-out and delicious Valentines plans.