weekend review

We had a wonderful weekend, replete with some relaxation, some fun activities, some really good food, and surprise guests.

John and I kicked off the weekend with a lovely al fresco dinner at home with steamed mussels—finely chopped shallots, garlic, and fennel, plus thyme, diced tomato, and red pepper flakes sautéed in olive oil. Then a dash of Pernod and a half cup of white wine and 1.5 pounds mussels, covered, to steam for five to ten minutes. All served right out of the sauté pan, with a baguette and a leafy green salad and the rest of the white wine—I love summer evenings. The kids? They were content to have a “picnic” in the den, with a cheese pizza and Ice Age: The Meltdown.



We puttered around the house on Saturday, which always makes me feel at loose ends…tasks begun never get completed, the boys, not sure how they fit in the run-around, seem to become even needier. Finally I left the house to run some errands. John took a nap and the boys shot at each other with (Nerf dart) guns. And by the time I returned home, the atmosphere was much calmer so I treated myself to some cooking. Later, friends came over for a quick brats and baked beans dinner, thereby laying a hearty foundation for a massive junk food gorge at the DRIVE-IN.

With a couple families, we schlepped to Cottage Grove to see Transformers 2, which was a loud mashup of machines and special effects. Simon declared it the best movie he had ever seen. The junk food was the highlight of my evening—dill pickle potato chips, taco Doritos, salsa rice chips (quasi-healthy? I doubt it), brownies, shortbread cookies with Hershey’s kisses, red licorice, Buddy’s grape soda, Point root beer, oh, and some white wine sangria with strawberries and white peaches for the adults. And no one threw up!! On another flip side—because you can't have an outing like this and not have it become an adventure—my car battery died just before the start of the second feature—Star Trek. We had to stick around for it so we could get a jump. In the meantime, I crawled into the backseat to nap—because I found myself suddenly very tired, uninterested in any more junk food, and worried about getting up for the 8:30 a.m. yoga class. Needless to say, we got home just fine but very, very late (3 a.m., yowza!).

Who thought this Sunday morning yoga routine was a good idea?! The class had a substitute teacher who was terrible. Uninspired and bored, she rushed us through each asana. I had a hard time keeping up. That said, my balance was amazing. I transitioned through many one-leg poses like a champ. After class, my friend Helena offered to take the boys off our hands (less a favor to us than a way to keep her kids occupied during a home-bound day) so John and I had a date at the St. Paul Farmers Market in Lowertown. I was verklempt—and not at all embarrassed to nearly weep—when I saw peas, potatoes, and zucchini, all making the season’s debut! I bought kohlrabi, small yellow creamer potatoes, a baby zucchini mix (yellow, green, and frosty light green), and snow peas. We will eat so well this week!


Moments later, my phone rang at Cheapos, where we were making an ill-advised music splurge. It was my mother saying, “How would you like company?” She and my father had came to town for the day because their plans were rained out and they wanted to see their children and grandchildren. We had a really nice time sitting on our patio, on the first bright but cooler and low-humidity day we’ve had in almost two weeks. We chit-chatted and drank wine and waited for brother Nik to finish a shift. Then we all went to Salut, where the food was large portions of mediocre, but we sat outside and everyone remained civil. My parents and brother left immediately after dinner, with hugs and "it was really good to see you's" all around. And, both boys, who stayed up stupid late the night before and spent the afternoon running with friends, crashed dead-asleep before the sun dropped on the horizon. I could not have imagined a lovelier day.

How was your weekend?

TGIF

Oh, what a week it has been. I started working on a new project, doing some developmental editing for one of my former employers. Fortunately the author can write. For the most part, I’m reading for logic and honing the audience, which is pretty broad at the moment as the author is attempting to include everyone. Sadly I’ve lost my work ethic and my ability to concentrate is sorely tested, but when I manage to focus, I am able to develop a rhythm in the reading and thinking and collating notes—and that makes me feel so happy. I feel alive again!! Earlier this week, I was sitting at Dunn’s, flipping through the manuscript pages, and the guy sitting next to me asked if I was an author. I proudly answered, “No, I’m an editor.” Deep sigh of relief.

The best part of the week has been spent recuperating from having attended my twentieth college reunion, the same weekend that I hosted a rock concert in my living room. Since January, John has been playing drums in a garage band. In fact, shortly after he was gainfully reemployed, John bought an electronic drum kit…a totally awesome thing to have on hand. Our friend Tom, who plays bass, has a coworker, Matt, who, not only plays guitar, but also has a boatload of equipment…amps and equalizers and gear for which I don’t even have the vocabulary. So they’ve jammed for months and were feeling good about that, then decided they needed to set a new goal: play for other people. The trio game themselves a name—Edward Upward—and set a date, June 20, for a friends and family concert.

Edward Upward rocked. The party was haphazardly planned—I won’t go into it, but suffice to say, I had nothing to do with the planning. But I did clean the house. Don’t ask. Also, suffice to say, this concert was a dry-run—we’re definitely doing it again, but I’m planning the whole gig. The logistics, the guest list, and so on. The guys did great establishing a playlist and practicing. And, lord knows, Matt has all the gear necessary to pull this off. And they sounded awesome! I am so proud of them for making something out of months of Friday night practices. Here’s the playlist:

Alternative Ulster (Stiff Little Fingers)
Brand New Cadillac (The Clash)
Freak Scene (Dinosaur Jr.)
Bad Moon Rising (CCR)
Breaking the Law (Judas Priest)
Cars (Gary Numan)
Brown Sugar (Rolling Stones)
Surrender (Cheap Trick)
Strychnine (The Sonics)
Last Night (The Strokes)
Night Time (George Thorogood)
Ever Fallen in Love (Buzzcocks)

Two sure signs that the evening was a success: none of our neighbors called the police and a surprising number of guests expressed an interest in playing an instrument/listening to more music OR getting a hobby of some sort.

doing

catching up
It’s getting harder to stay caught up online these days, both blogging and reading blogs. While I take full responsibility, I’d also like to blame summer. Life on the internets is just going to be slower. Until when? School starts?

reuniting
Over the weekend, I attended my 20th college reunion. Yikes! My friend Caryl convinced me to go. I agreed, somewhat at the last minute. In the week leading up to the event, I spent a lot of time reflecting and reminiscing, and in all the happy moments and the (few) regrettable moments, I felt so much bittersweetness. Only natural, I know, but a little unexpected. The Friday evening party was poorly attended…just 10 people...but I understand other weekend events were livelier. Still, I couldn't put a price on how awesome it was to hang out with friends Caryl and Sue, who flew in from Virginia to attend. I honestly hadn’t had any contact with Sue since graduation. We had a wonderful evening, picking up where we left off, remembering that summer we all lived together on St. Clair (the house, admittedly a blight on the block, has long since been torn down by Macalester, which owned it), theater performances and cast parties, and countless nights at Sweeney's.

eating
arugula-pistachio pesto on pasta; fresh, local strawberries that will become ice cream; apricots and white peaches; Alaskan king salmon; The Cheesemonger (soppressata, provolone, pepper relish) from France 44’s new St. Paul outpost; Edy’s coconut popsicles

knitting
The olive-green tilting blocks scarf is humming along. Now that I've successfully hit the half point, dare I say that the pattern has become a tad bit tedious. It's gorgeous, though, and I've struggled, so no complaints. I am taking short breaks from the scarf to do a little automatic knitting—a neckwarmer, knit on a circular needle, with a knit 3, purl 3 pattern. For the neckwarmer, I'm using Malabrigo worsted in mariposa, a hand-dyed, variegated yarn in mustard yellow, seafoam green, and greenish-grey. The effect is neat and mesmerizing as each stitch forms. On Sunday (Father's Day), with little family in tow (no good for browsing), I made my inaugural visit to Borealis Yarns. Treasure trove. And, Borealis carries Noro!! I'm scheming a project for this gorgeous Japanese yarn. In the meantime, chainmail tunics (hauberk) are in the works, for the little boys and their cousin, Bjorn, to wear during Visby's Medieval week. More to follow, including photos!

reading to myself
Kate Atkinson’s Case Histories (for book group, which meets next week), David Foster Wallace’s Infinite Jest (for the Infinite Summer challenge and because it’s about time I did), Elin Hildenbrand’s Barefoot (meaty beach read)

reading to others
Race to Dakar, actor Charley Boorman’s riveting account of riding the Dakar Rally (to John), Maze of the Beast, book 6 in the Deltora Quest series (to Winston), Darkest Hour, the sixth and final book in the Warriors series (to Simon)

listening
Peaches’ cover of “Search and Destroy”, Swoon, the new Silversun Pickups, Edward Upward live

on having survived a rainy weekend

The weekend wasn’t just rainy, but it was cold, too, which had all of us scrambling to find the warm clothing items I had, about a month ago, packed away. I truly don’t mind a wet weekend. It gives me an opportunity to hibernate, attending to all those inside-the-house projects I have been neglecting in favor of playing outside. Plus, my herb garden and the hostas and the grass in the front yard got a long drink of water. Still, the warm, sunny days of June feel like such a novelty.

Over the weekend, I managed to knit a lot. I started the Midwest Moonlight scarf again. And stopped and ripped out and started again. But now, on my twenty-third start, I’ve knitted further than ever, and I have a good feeling about this. But, I also pulled another skein out of the stash and started a back-up project—a neck warmer in a super-soft worsted-weight Malabrigo. This yarn is so gorgeous, hand-dyed, mostly a creamy yellow shot through with sage and olive and aqua (the label says "mariposa" for the color). I cast 80 stitches onto a 16” size 10 circular needle, and I’m knitting a criminally easy knit three, purl three rib.

When I wasn’t knitting, I helped the little boys with a 500-piece puzzle. The picture is an Egyptian scene with tons of hieroglyphs so I’ve had to go against my jigsaw best practices by looking at the cover to see where each piece must be placed.

And, I had a chance to read a little more in Junot Diaz’s brilliant Oscar Wao. It’s been awhile since I have read such a dense book so I’m feeling a little unskilled in that department, and my attention span is sorely challenged. I wish I could read more in one sitting.

In a total stroke of genius, John proposed going out for breakfast on Sunday morning. We took the boys to Highland Grill, where I had the special scramble—eggs with andouille sausage, caramelized onions, mushrooms, and pepper jack cheese on a bed of my favorite hash browns. I could easily pick this as a Last Meal. We killed time at a nearby bookstore so the boys could each pick out their first summer-reading titles. Then we saw Up at the Highland Theater. I love the Highland Theater. It reminds me of the two-screen theater just off the “town square” in Watertown, now closed in favor of a “multiplex” near the mall on the outskirts of town. Up was fantastic—heartwarming story coupled with striking animation.

Would that all weekends could be like this. But with a little more sunshine.

on knitting but having little to show for it

Dipping into my newly acquired yarn stash for the first time was a little like being a kid in a candy shop. I wanted to rip into every single skein and do a little stockingette, just to get a feel for the yarn. During this exercise, perhaps the yarn would tell me what it wants to become. Okay, I confess, I don’t roll that way as a knitter. I’m more firmly planted in the “find an irresistible pattern, buy some yarn, knit it up following the pattern to the letter of the law” school of knitting. It’s the same way with cooking. I am drawn to recipes by way of gorgeous color photography. I buy the ingredients and cook them up rather than dig through the fridge pulling out whatever lurks, whipping them into something edible. So it goes with music. I can read music like nobody but I struggle to memorize it, and I certainly don’t play by ear.

Though I yearn to be a more intuitive knitter, I know it will only come with more practice. Also, I need to branch out of beyond my comfort zone of stockingette and garter stitch to try lacy openwork and cables and intarsia or color changes—and I want to do it all. To avoid commitment anxiety inherent in the question of where to start, I closed my eyes and reached into my stash. When I opened my eyes, I was not disappointed to find a small, super-soft skein of olive-colored Rowan Classic yarn (50% merino, 50% silk in a DK weight). Fortunately I remembered that when I purchased this yarn at the Yarnery’s sale, I made plans for it to be knitted into a scarf.

And, some time shortly after my knitting class ended, oh, back in April (the 20th, to be precise), I picked up my #6 wooden needles and cast on 49 stitches. The stitches are easy to execute, even though my needles are a little grabby—they’re splintering and catching in the yarn. I found the the Midwest Moonlight scarf in Scarf Style—part of a fantastic series from Pam Allen and Interweave Press—where it was photographed in an icy blue. The scarf’s pattern is a variation of Barbara Walker’s tilting blocks pattern, which becomes quite evident after you get through the first 16 rows, with eight rows leaning in one direction and the next eight in the other.

A google search for “tilting blocks scarf” and “Midwest moonlight scarf” yields many references, as well as photos of finished objects. Here are a few. Popular indeed. A few knitters even noted the length of time it took them to knit the scarf, ranging from one sitting to four or five, which I imagine is reasonable for an intermediate knitter. But one knitter went so far as to call the pattern tedious.

Here’s what I have knitted.



And I’m ripping it all out. Somehow, I messed up the pattern, which is now difficult to distinguish. The frustrating thing: I have started this scarf no fewer than twenty-two times. Yes, I’m counting. For some reason I can’t knit the pattern for more than two sets before I completely screw it up.

A few weeks ago, I decided that I would learn how to “unknit” (knit back) as soon as I realize I have made a mistake so that I don’t go for rows, getting myself further in a pickle. Knitting in hand, I went to The Yarnery and got help during clinic. The nice ladies who were at the yarn shop, knitting during the middle of the day, gave me lots of advice. I came home, feeling pretty smug about being further along on this scarf that at any of my previous twenty-one attempts.

Eight rows later, I’d bungled the pattern AGAIN.

Sensing my mounting frustration, John has asked me to start a different project. I do have stash, after all. But, there is the commitment anxiety. And, something about this scarf is compelling. So I will rip out all the stitches, and start one more time.

A back-up plan would be wise…

trip preparations

In this day and age of travel, if you forget to pack an item, you can replace it pretty easily, almost anywhere in the world. Pain reliever, toothbrush, tampons, contact solution, reading material for the plane, ties and scarves—you name it, the airport has it. Or, if you’re traveling in the U.S., chances are good that on the path from the airport to your hotel, you will pass a Target store. Heck, you can even leave your plane ticket at home. Since the advent of e-tickets, a swipe of photo ID or a credit card brings up your flight information and allows you to print a boarding pass. Brave new world! Still, I overpack. Without exception.

You are, however, shit out of luck if you're leaving the country and forgot your passport at home. There’s no passport kiosk in the departure terminal. Yet. Hmmm, I wonder if there's a market for this? Personally, the possibility of forgetting my passport induces bad dreams the night before a trip. The Shepards leave for Stockholm/Visby in eight weeks, and guess whose passports have expired?

My passport expired a year ago, almost to the date. I am so glad to have a new book. Ten years younger and forty pounds lighter, but looking simultaneously hungover and startled, like a deer in the headlights, I have always despised the photo that I've had to face since 1998. I wish there was a way to continue filling the old passport, until it's full, with souvenir stamps. Mine holds many stamps for Schiphol (Amsterdam, the gateway to all of Europe in the 90s and early 00s) and Canada, and my older passport—the one previous to my previous passport—has my British alien residence card, a visa allowing me to travel in France (how old school?!), and an amendment changing the bearer's maiden name.

And, yes, I said passports, plural. Simon’s and Winston’s passports expired ten days ago. Children’s passports are valid for only five years—for obvious reason, but Winston’s old passport perfectly illustrates why. He had just turned two when he got his first passport—i.e., he was practically a baby and little resembles his current self.

On Saturday, the four of us schlepped way up to Roseville—Lexington and County Road C—to the one passport center within 20 miles that is open on Saturday. Both John and I needed to be present to apply for our minors’ passports. No kidding. I’m sure this is for our own protection but incredibly inconvenient when the post offices nearest to us only process passports Monday through Friday, 8 a.m.-1 p.m.

So we arrive at the passport place in Roseville, and we wait for 45 minutes before we’re granted an audience with the sole agent. As we’re waiting, I read a Donna Leon mystery, dreaming of a vacation in Venice, and eavesdrop on each person ahead of me in line as they face one bureaucratic obstacle after another. I felt pretty prepared for making our application. I had filled out the paperwork ahead of time and remembered to bring the old passports. To be honest, I left a few fields on the application blank—those for occupation (student?), work phone number, email (kids have them but hell if I’m giving them to anyone other than close friend/family), social security number—but I didn't think these would cause a problem.

And, wouldn’t you know, when we finally had our turn at the window, the first thing that agent noticed was that we hadn’t filled out the SSN. John asked politely, “Since it’s not considered legal identification, why do we need to have a SSN?” The agent answered, “It’s the law.” John challenged, “Show me the law.” Agent: “I don’t have time to know where it is, I just know it is.” Recognizing that this “logic” was something not to be messed with, John dropped the ball. And, I picked it right back up, “What if the kids didn’t have social security numbers?” Agent: “Then you’d fill in 000-00-000.” John, “So let’s do that.” Agent: “If you have a SSN and don’t fill it in, then you won’t be issued a passport.” John: “But they’ve already been issued passports.” Time to drop the ball again.

Then, as if there was actually a chance that we’d get our paperwork processed that day, the agent asked to see birth certificates. I hadn’t brought them because, according to the instructions on the application, a previous passport is sufficient to establish citizenship, as well as identification. Then the agent said, “You need a birth certificate to show the link between you and your children.” I had my ah-ha moment when I realized all these hoops were to insure that we weren’t trying to smuggle children-not-our-own out of the country.

In my head, I silently screamed: Look at these kids. I ask you Is there any doubt that they’re ours? Does the fact that they’re comfortably flipping and flopping and bouncing off the walls in this little lobby suggest in the slightest that they might be afraid of us or what we’ll do to them? Is child smuggling rampant? I’m not saying that an angry, estranged spouse wouldn’t be above kidnapping his or her own child, but do we really need these hoops FOR OUR PROTECTION????

Yesterday, John took the afternoon off so we could try, again, to get passports for the children. The clock is ticking—processing takes six to eight weeks. This time, we try the post office in St. Anthony, where nice clerks helped us five years ago. This time, I filled in the social security field, and I brought the birth certificates. We flew through the process with little grief, pleasantly chit-chatting with the agent. The boys were barely present, running around outside on the sidewalk. Sure, we came into the post office with two kids but were they matched up to their applications, photos, and old passports? Did the agent even get a good look at them? I...don't...think...so.

The boys are really concerned about not having their old passports returned.

Deep cleansing breath. The applications are in the mail.

hello june

Here we are in June. Can you believe it? I can’t. To me, summer isn't marked by Memorial Day—especially not this year, when Memorial Day came so early and the kids were still very much in school—nor by the solstice, the official start of summer, at least as far as the calendar goes. Rather, summer begins in June. The days are warmer and longer so one can comfortably do summer-ish things, such as riding a bike or gardening.

The arrival of June is a relief, too, because May wasn't such a great month for me. We were super busy, and at the same time, many plans were in limbo so I felt like I was in a holding pattern. We had a lot of family visits, which increased my stress level significantly and derailed my personal agenda. I didn't get much done and the house got messier and messier. My writing suffered. But it's done. Time for a fresh start!

With my family, I managed a few great activities this past month, though I think the biggest highlight had to be adopting cats. Becoming pet owners has been a very positive step for all of us. The boys love to play with Trixie, the kitty, and chase her around the house. The boys have also, with prompting, cleaned litterboxes and cleaned up the attendant mess. John likes to spend quiet time with Nancy, who barely tolerates Trixie and hides from her for most of the day. Oh, the cats are far more fun than I imagined they would be.

We're also deep into our soccer season. Winston is playing in the Littlehawks league on Saturdays, which is mostly skill building through fun games and a short scrimmage. It's an awesome hour of runaround. Simon's Blackhawk team is starting to gel as a team. Each player is playing better than when the season started. They've got excellent foot skills—one of the things at which Blackhawks excel—and they're not afraid to use them. Simon, who has always felt comfortable at defense, is now also playing a bit more aggressively at midfield.

June heralds
~ warmer weather, which may even creep up toward hot
~ sleeping with the windows cranked open
~ stone fruit (hallelujah! I’m climbing off the locavore high horse to gorge myself with peaches, cherries, apricots, plums)
~ summer break from school (no more homework or rigid bed-and-bath schedules)

June is also for hunkering down. Here are a few things on my to-do-list:

~ clean the yard (pull weeds, pick up sticks, landscape, plant herbs and flowers), a perennial
~ throw away ALL the clutter that bogs down our existence (do I write this every month?)
~ have a blast with the little boys as they have a fun summer ahead of them

June, I'm really glad to see you!