Something You Didn't Mean To Wear As a Shirt

It was altogether too hot in there. It was too crowded to make it back to where the water was, so the water jugs didn't help us play it cool. And last night, the bands were too good for it, every single one. It was really too hot to wear two flannels on stage, so the musicians could not possibly play it cool. And the beards didn't play it cool, and the ponytails may have kept a little heat off our necks, but they still swayed and felt happy and showed off our exuberance and therefore could not be said to play it cool. The new merch included the golden Zooch, so the merchandise didn't either, and the film crew never even seemed tempted to. It was their night off, after all.

The tallboys in their Tractor 15-year anniversary koozies did not play it cool for long. The dj told us about getting married on that very stage and the photographers smiled behind their cameras, and when the bands came on, they nodded their heads behind those cameras too. The guitars never play it cool, especially when there are four of them on stage at once, and this time the mandolin didn't either, and of course drums rarely do, and last night the drums in questions were Ryan's, gold and sparkly, and loud and good, messy in the best way, like Ryan's hair and Ryan's hair may try to play it cool, but the drums weren't going to. The horns didn't play it cool, neither did the girls with the flowers in their hair or the moms or the area backstage which was even more crowded all than front of stage, and the Tractor was sold out, so it was crowded everywhere, including the area next to the stage just behind the little plastic chain that served as a field sobriety test, which all the Malgals passed...

even though they were not at all, contrary to what this photo might suggest, playing it cool.

What Happened When I Tried To Make a Comment on the Orangette Blog

I didn't really intend to do a whole blog post on dinner at Delancey. The idea of that just sort-of sounded like taking owls to Athens, but then on Orangette today, Molly mentioned a Goethe quote. "Do not hurry, do not rest". I love that quote. It's right up there with E.M. Forster's "Only connect", for me. So I started writing a comment and guess what happened? The operative word ended up being "writing" rather than "comment". I blame it on the upcoming writing week. I don't know what's going to work out for that, but I can feel it brewing. I have hopes. In the mean time, here's what used to call itself a comment.

Susan and I had pastries the other morning at Honore, the bakery next door to Delancey -cannele and macarons and cafe bom-bon, and there was Molly at Delancey! So early, red hair restrained in some cute messy pony-bun thing, trying to keep Jack away from whoever was at the door, while we were sitting just outside on the adirondack chairs, giggling to ourselves and thinking No NO! Let Jack come to the door! We love Jack! I felt the teeniest bit stalkerish and wondered if that well-worn media phrase "we ask that you respect our privacy at this time" ever crosses Molly's mind in those early hours when she is back at the restaurant after a 16-hour day, the tenth in, what, two weeks? In our defense, we were not at ALL the only people sneaking peaks, and at least we didn't actually cup our hands against the glass, right??

Not that we didn't want to.

Kate and I were supposed to have dinner later that night, before the new Mike Daisey show. She was going to make "Kate's Corn Buffet". I don't know exactly what that would have been, but Good would have surely been one word for it, since it was, after all, Kate cooking. Or would have been, if I hadn't suggested Delancey.

It was just that Kate was a little tired, not feeling that great, and we had to be at Hugo House early, and hadn't Delancey been open for like AN AGE, and we STILL hadn't been there yet?? So we each put on some little summer number, and arranged to meet in front at precisely 5 PM. Already, there was a little queue, but it was a cheerful queue, with all of us smiling secret smiles, thinking about love stories and chocolate chip cookies with grey salt and yes, pizza. There was a pretty pregnant woman in a yellow dress, with a big table's worth of handsome friends, and there was a cute girl with a grey dress and leggings, smiling at her date, and everyone else was also looking photogenic, in that particular way that friendly people who spend their time liking things do. Blog readers, Orangette lovers, fans. Lovers of love and pizza and ideas and things that seem impossible but aren't.

Kate said it felt like we were going to see a rock band, a really good one, one you've been waiting and waiting to see.

But the great thing was that it was like one of those concerts that is as satisfying as you think it will be - the live version of the tomato/corn/shallot vinaigrette salad IS better than the recorded version! And the framed photo of the italian man in his suit in the pink chair, and the delicate-looking waitresses in their grey t-shirts, and the tomato salad with the shallot vinaigrette and the kind of corn so sweet that I don't even know how one would find it, and the overall famousness feeling of it all! You can imagine.

I haven't even started on the pizza. We had the zucchini and anchovy and the Brooklyn. Of course, what else? I have to admit, I don't really want to go on and on about how fantastic it was. I just want to say that it was exactly what I expected, exactly what I hoped for and exactly what I was craving. Sometimes you want something to be simple, and just right. We didn't have to ask for the pizza scissors, and I wasn't tempted to use a knife and fork, and I didn't burn all the skin off the roof of my mouth, but nothing had congealed either. The sauce was exactly the way I like a pizza sauce, didn't taste like something you'd put on bruschetta or like spaghetti sauce, wasn't too sweet or overpowered by oregano, it was sort-of one with the crust, which should not for a moment be mistaken for "soggy", it was more that it felt inseparable in the best way, like a perfectly placed phrase in a poem or story, something said at the right moment in the right way, the not only well-worded but just what you wanted to hear, too.

But that was the start of Delancey being popular of course, the way Molly always pared it down to just the right details on her blog, in her book, recipes both made magic by her mythology and demystified by her willingness to share - I made this, she says, you can too.

But of course, even if we could, and really, at our table, only Kate gets put in that camp, the Camp of Could in the Kitchen, why would we want to? It was so nice to be welcomed in by Delancey, to sneak admiring peeks at neighbors, feel famous by proxy, energized and enthused, happy and summery and very very well-fed. And if reading this doesn't make you almost feel all those things yourself, then click on the love story link and get a little taste of Delancey for yourself.

Oh Jon and Kate We Hardly Knew You

They were so much cuter back then!

Or maybe we knew you too well.

I wrote a post a while ago about appreciating J & K and their squabbly ways. How they made me feel better about my own lack of perfection in both marriage and parenting.

I stand by those thoughts.

I think that the couple they originally were on that show were to be admired for the way they managed to make their life work. None of us are perfect. Every mother/father/married/committed person I know struggles with many of the same issues that you could clearly see in those early episodes.

Whether you have 8 kids – or (thankyoujesus) not – marriage and parenthood are difficult adjustments and most of us aren’t naturally equipped with the patience or communication skills to make it work without some bickering, some tension. Some people conceal it better than others, but know a couple well enough, long enough and you'll get a peak behind the curtain.

Which is what Jon and Kate gave us with their show, originally.

I think that they did the show to help their family financially but I think, in the end, it is the show and the attendant notoriety/ fame/ pressure to maintain a story arc that did them in. Not the bickering or squabbling.

When the show started veering away from them living a normal-ish family life and went to them having a trip to Disney World/American Girl/some other crazy publicity stunt activity every week, I think it changed both the tone of the show and their own lives.

Instead of being self-referential, the show became one big advertisement for all the crazy trips you can take with your kids. And I promise you that traveling with any number of toddlers is stressful. But the sponsors want what they want, right?

And the sponsors want a juicy story. The ongoing story of a happy but chaotic family at home making lunch or going to preschool is not such a juicy story.

In addition, I imagine that waking up one day to realize that you are a balding, pudgy, thirty-year-old man with 8 kids could throw a person into premature mid-life crisis mode. Though one would have hoped that getting a chopper from the guys at Orange County Choppers would have been enough.

But hey, bring on the 20-something chicks to make you feel like a young man!

And finding yourself married to said man, while dealing with the body issues one has to deal with after birthing multiples… or even singletons… and the stress of parenting that many kids while juggling public appearances, writing deadlines and most likely some long-buried desire for some romantic attention...

As well as rumors that you are a complete hen-pecking bee-yotch…

Well, I can’t say that I am entirely surprised that they are getting divorced.

But I am sad for their kids.

I am sad for the couple that they were and could have been.

I think that a time will come when they will be sad for that couple too – years from now when all of this attention has died down and they have some perspective.

After all, with eight beautiful children, their lives are tied tightly together forever – married or not.

Wait

Summer, I'm not done with you yet.

Things left:

:: swimming ::

:: an island ::

What else to add?

What I Did Today To Amuse Myself

:: latte for the commute ::

:: dropped off two rolls of 120 ::

:: phone call with Kristin ::

:: trip to the library ::

:: long walk ::

:: DH Lawrence on CD ::

:: bought plums ::

:: watched Bouboule ::

:: ate cucumber sandwiches ::

:: texted Lindsey ::

:: GG reruns ::

:: cracked up at the twins slap-fest ::

coulda been worse

Wha?

I love it that the boys are inhabiting their own little world. Playing at something, though I obviously have no idea what.

I love that they are giving me the look that says 'Mama? What crazy thing are you talking about?'

I am not so crazy about the fact that they are totally disregarding me. The video after this one is - um - one I am saving for when they are older and need embarrassing.

Of course, I know this is just the beginning.

Favorites From Weekend Before Last

Moments I Almost Missed

Just thinking about that. Those little in-between times from this summer.

Carroll Boys Update

Thomas, where's Max's ear?

We've got two walking boys. It is exhausting, but it is also hilarious.

If I am sitting on the floor, Max will let out a wild whoop, throw his hands in the air and coming running at me, only to plant a big wet kiss on my face. I call it a Big Max Attack. Thomas will lift your leg up and down. While also saying 'up' and 'down.'

Or rather 'uuuuuhhhhh' and 'daaahhhhhhhhh'. In a very adorable sing-song-ey way.

Thomas, if you are walking down the street with him, wants to walk independently. Does. Not. Want. His. Hand. Held. Tummy sticking out. Marching along.

Max would like for you to carry him. Please.

They are feeding themselves now. Kind of.

Big person food. Pasta and broccoli. They like fish - go figure. Anything with a cheesy sauce. They like their eggs. And their waffles. They still love the yogurt.

And water - my god, I think they would drink the earth dry if we let them. They would like to hold their own - non-sippy, thankyouverymuch - cups. And spill the water everywhere.

They will sit and actually pay attention as you read them a story. Curious George is V. Popular.

As you sit, reading, Max will back his butt up into your lap. Thomas will try to turn the pages for you. Meaning to be helpful, of course. But there is a reason why all of their books have board pages still.

If you ask them to, they will bring you the big green ball. Or a book. Or their bottles. Or Thomas's new favorite stuffy - Mr. Cat. They might even offer you one of the binkies that we haven't bothered to wean them off of yet.

In the bathtub, they like to make big waves. They like the shower sprayer. Thank goodness they don't poop in the tub - because they like to drink the water like puppies.

Again with the water!

They are almost tall enough to climb out of the tub on their own.

Oh wait, nevermind, they ARE tall enough to climb out of the tub on their own.

They have lots of golden curls. Which I will not cut anytime soon. No matter how much their Daddy thinks they look like girls.

Those are my babies. Still.

I'm Not Gonna Talk About It

You have to be here to understand. Everything smells like it's on fire. Is that my engine? The elementary school? The pumps at the gas station? A brush fire on I-5, the fur of the animals at the zoo? It won't make sense unless you're here.

I've given up everything. Dishwashing first, always, then meals, then clothing, the need to sleep with something covering me. I abandon hair-drying, the longing for sunshine, the process of falling in love, the desire to leave work at the end of the day. I wonder which ex-boyfriend kept that fan, and everything starts to look the way everything looks in those movies where the camera lingers on someone alone, the scenery going by, a child's fingers on the car window.

There is no loneliness in heat this close, and misery is possible the first day, but after the second I've given that up too. The heat takes on another form, like time, when you're waiting. In a moment of relief, we watch the preview for a movie where someone says "Time heals, they say, but the years get heavier as they go. They don't tell you that," and that's what the heat is like. Oppressive like a grief whose root is the deepest joy, so that when these things are upon you, you cannot tell the difference between them, between heat and time and what is sad and made you happy, they are all the same, all more than you ever intended to bear, but no one cancels work and the coffee shop is still open, though silent from the heat, and you don't call the ex-boyfriend with the fan, and as hot as you are, there is always another bead of sweat for the small of your back, more heat rising off the nape of your neck. For now there is just this popsicle, this lime juice, this cold cold movie theater and tomorrow, again, the sanctuary of work.

Baby Aspirin

I am always getting terrible photos of him, though he is lovely in real life. One of my friends recently said that when she met him, she felt like he was looking through her soul. He does have an eye, that's for sure, but whenever I turn mine on him, I seem to catch him startled or unprepared, and always always disheveled. The one above is my favorite now, because it somehow it at least catches his stature.

It captures the kind of night it was too. We didn't know where we were going, and the nicest part of it was the walking, not the being there. Court and I did sit on his stoop and talk for a while, and that was good, and I took photos of the ladies' shoes and T Lily's long legs, and we were all happy with the banana split I think, though we were so busy talking about other things that we almost forgot to mention it as our spoons scooped up the bruled banana, the marshmallow cloud on top of the little ice cream discs, the praline nuts. Later I walked into a room of Scatergories and a brunette in a summer dress called out to me, with a big smile, "New Girl!! Play for me! I just realized.. I'm too drunk to play!" and then I couldn't think up an item of clothing that started with I and envied Tim when he revealed his - intimates. Of course.

Even later, D and I met in the parking lot of the drive-in and he bought me a chocolate shake that I drank two sips of and we sat in my car catching up on our days. I was still in my work clothes and he was wearing the shoes from dinner at Cafe Juanita the night before. We had been so many other places during the day, but I was glad it all ended up there.

It's Your Duty to Watch This Whole Thing

Certainly Tonight

Ridiculously adorable and hilarious around a minute 45 into it. Startin to wonder if I'll ever get my dance partner back though... Weekend update soon, but I'll tip my cards and tell you that even Andrew Bird wasn't as good as the three boys in Widower. Course, I am biased, but I've told you about that before. Thanks to Jess for calling my attention to the video!

BRB

Heading off to the Edgefield, Ace, Screen Door and who else knows where, cameras in tow.

There were clowns

Max isn't quite sure what this is all about, but he likes the yarn pompom

So it goes without saying that I missed spending the fourth with you and Mom and Dakota and Clay and Joseph something awful. But I thought I should say it.

We did manage to have quite a fun time on our own Fourth of July though, in no small part due to Grandma Carolyn's sense of humor and diligent sewing fetish. For her community's little Fourth of July Parade (which was not so little, in fact) she whipped up clown costumes for the boys. Patriotic clowns. There is some symbolism and irony in that, but I'll let you sort it out for yourself.

She already had two adult patriotic clown costumes, but I declined the offer to wear one - in favor of Eugene. I just wore some jeans and a navy blue top to coordinate, along with the boys' color block wood bead necklace. I thought it was a pretty festive outfit, for me.

Thomas will go along with the clown thing, so long as he gets to carry the cowbell

It was pretty bloody hot, so I wasn't too put out about not having a million layers on. I did carry Thomas on my shoulders most of the way, but both of the boys were very cute about walking whenever we were passing by a particularly engaging crowd - in particular the Judges Table.

Thomas had found this old cowbell at Carolyn and Ernie's house and every time we put him down to walk, he just went crazy ringing it. It was guaranteed entertainment - the entire trip.

Eugene and Grandma Carolyn in their clown costumes...

We walked behind a dixieland band, which made the parade that much more fun for us. They were super lively and willing to let us perch on their flatbed if we got a bit worn out. It was quite a long parade.

Outdoor baby bath - like a car wash only cuter

When we got back to Carolyn and Ernie's, it was past time for the boys' nap but they were super sticky from the whole parade experience. I didn't feel like tromping them inside for a full-on bath, so we decided to just hose them off on the deck. It was hilarious.

Thomas was grinning and laughing and sticking his puffy little puppy belly out, but Max was on the run - laughing and hiding behind the deck furniture. It's crazy just how distinct their personalities are.

And it is getting more and more obvious all the time.

I Am Always Making Things

More Home Cooking

Kate made her famous roast chicken

The appetizer was pie

My job was holding down this chair

I saw every step and still it was magical and mysterious

Swiffer had a job too

One Tiny Cowboy

I bought a bird and a whale. We drove to LaConner and Edison, ate landjaeger and coconut cookies and salmon in the garden without even a wasp to trouble us. The drive from LaConner to Portland was long but went so fast there was barely time to listen to Abbey Road. The family barbecue lasted for hours and the street was filled with the gunpowdered confetti of spent fireworks and the ice cream man came by in a mini-van and we all thought the popsicles were cheap when you really think about what you're getting. Missed you lots.

Mad Skills

So silly. Just something to tide you over... since we are traveling, I don't know when I will be able to post. xoxo

Yikes

And now we have two boys walking...

it's all fun and games...

Until somebody gets hurt!

No, seriously, no one was hurt. Since the boys are made of India rubber and puppy dog tails, they were just fine. I, on the other hand, peed my pants laughing.

Hope you do too!