THE THIEF : TALE OF A STOLEN INVENTION, AND THE COUNTESS BEHIND THE BETRAYAL.

No warning. No provocation. No hint of danger.

I was enjoying a shower. A few rare minutes of warmth, of strategizing for the day ahead; of solitude and clarity. A hot shower: one of my two daily luxuries (prefacing a beautiful hot cuppa joe).

I was enjoying the first of these mini-luxuries when the betrayal took place. A betrayal on a level that will be evident shortly.

I invented a trick. This trick may seem, on its surface, to be simple. But it requires a delicate sense of timing and perfect execution in order to be successfully carried out. It's much too complicated to describe in a single sentence, but I will try. The basic idea is this:

When someone (for example: my wife) is taking a hot shower, I sneak up with a bucket of really, really cold water, and dump it on her.

That's it. It's kind of hard to explain. But I invented it. Brilliant.

Invention is about ownership over something you care about. You take pride in it as being yours. You care about it being done properly. I originated this move.

As I was standing in my shower, thinking up ways to spend my day in ways that would benefit my family; thinking about what color of new Hunter boots I should get my wife, I was suddenly interrupted from my reverie with an avalanche of FREEZING COLD GLACIER WATER. Niagara Falls on my head. From nowhere.

I shrieked. Ripped open the shower door. And there was my wife, with our children, pulling the double betrayal of:

a) stealing one of my greatest inventions and using it against me, and (possibly worse),

b) teaching our children this trick…THIS WAS NOT HER TRICK TO TEACH THEM! IT WAS MINE!

The sad truth is that she executed it perfectly. Probably even more perfectly than I have ever done, which is horrid to admit. Approach was stealthy, the dumping was spot-on, the water was frigid enough to leave me shivering…it surpassed my original invention, which reminded me immediately of what Mates of State did when they covered Belle & Sebastian's Sleep the Clock Around: they took an already fabulous song and made it into quite possibly the Greatest Song Ever.

And the moment will come when composure returns
Put a face on the world, turn your back to the wall
And you walk twenty yards with your head in the air

I have loved Belle & Sebastian's version for so many years, enduring the ridicule of Jack Black's record store employee character in Hi Fidelity, playing it to my children and loving it more than anyone in the world could ever love a song. And then husband-wife buddies Mates of State stuck it on as a cover on their Crushes album, and made it danceable and romantic and and threw some sirens in…and made it so, so good. I guess that's always the question: what gets more credit:

the original of something?

or

the re-interpretation of that original that finds a fresh, updated way that in many ways improves on the original?

In the spirit of Linus Torvalds, I have decided to open-source this trick and share it with the world: you may use it; and I encourage you to use try it out frequently. The payoff is tremendous.

Also, I want to see Christopher Nolan dive into the Indiana Jones franchise.

I guess I gotta be proud of being married to someone who can make my tricks even better.

I still got a few up my sleeve though. First, I need to buy a couple oxen...

Belle & Sebastian

Sleep the Clock Around

The Boy With the Arab Strap

1998

Mates of State

Sleep the Clock Around

Crushes (The Covers Mixtape)

2010

MATES FOREVER.

Mates of State from their 2010 album Crushes (The Covers Mixtape)

Becca and I went on a double date last night to see Mates of State. With my brother Jonny and his fiancee Meilani (two weeks to go! :)

Mates of State is a husband-wife duo who have been together since 1997. Intensely romantic and danceable, counterpoint harmonies and trade-off vocals; a Lilliputian drum set next to his lanky frame, her short blonde bangs dancing away on keys. I started thinking, as I watched them frolic and and melody the night away…

…they've been together since '97; married since 2001. And you see Jason, thudding away on the skins, looking across stage, in full view of audience, at his wife and bandmate Kori. And smiling. Knowing full well they're performing. Middle of a public performance. But yet, the glances they slip each other have a spirited intimacy that feels occasionally like it's just the two of them; singing in their living room, for themselves. She, gleeful bouncing, almost-shyness; a self-conscious sincerity that rises above performance, grins back, head bobbing.

They look like they like each other.

How much of it is mythology? How much enjoyment of this performance do people get - do I get - from the backstory of them being together for 15 years and still being in love; still making music together?

If they divorced tomorrow, how would that affect their career? The mythology would not be there. 

You can't make something come true, necessarily, by pretending that it's true. But: I do believe that you can help perpetuate and reinforce, you can strengthen and help to create a mythology that turns to reality. 

If you don't start with a dream, then where do you have to go from there? 

Many people, when they're in love at the beginning, start with a dream, and then they listen to too many people. And they let other voices become louder than the person they were in love with. And they forget to hold hands and steal glances at each other in public. And that dream, that future mythology becomes today's sad reality. 

But sometimes - no, not sometimes: always: dreams need to be propped up. The bridge of reality is a tenuous one. Reality can change at any moment. It's not like reality is a rock-solid concept that is never-changing. Everybody has somebody they know who has gone through something tragic in a split second, where reality changes just like that (snap fingers). Reality is a fluid concept, and just like you Pavlov-reinforce character traits that you want to sustain by making them habits, you do the same thing with your most important relationships: 

You treat yourself with respect, and you will mirror that to others. You put yourself down, and you will create an image of yourself as somebody weak who will end up resenting others for being stronger. And you will be unable to pursue your dreams.

(next is the Rocky paragraph, and then I'm done with the archetypal inspirational stuff)

You look in the mirror, and you tell yourself: I am strong enough. I can do this. Whatever it may be. And you may have doubt; you may waver, but you remind yourself that you can. You never, ever say "I have the potential to do this." No: you say "I can do this." Even if you can't in the moment. You say it because you have to believe that it is possible. There is a time to be realistic; but there is also a time to say I am going to believe in this with everything and it is going to happen. And you make it happen. You set the foundation for success by believing first and foremost.  Then you put in the work. You keep the dream, and you work to keep the dream alive (I promise you, world: I will not make a horribly-designed inspirational photographic poster out of this :)

(unless it would be wildly popular and make me a lot of money, which is also a dream :)

You keep the dream alive; you prop the dream up sometimes by putting on a performance. That's not a bad thing. If your entire life is performance, that is probably a bad thing, where everything you do is entirely for other people's benefit. But when you reinforce reality with a dream, you have the opportunity to merge the two. Going back to Mates of State (who, incidentally, did play the Greatest Song Ever, For the Actor). Mates of State have been together a long time. They have a performance to put on, every time they tour. And their may be a merging of their public and their private world. They probably go on stage sometimes where they've been arguing, and have said mean things to each other, or maybe just not been very nice. And then they're on stage, and they have a show to put on. And part of that show is giving a performance that includes them as the lead characters. We love a romance; we love a love story. Great music + real life love story = rock star romance. Great story.

At this point, Jason & Kori's story may be interwoven into the fabric of both their reality and their stage personas. Maybe it's tough to know. There's an old Jewish custom - I do not remember any particular details, except for the main idea that for the first one or two weeks after marriage, the couple would spend each night at the residence of a different family member or friend, and the thinking was that it would reinforce the notion that their marriage was about more than just themselves; that by joining themselves together, their relationship transcended the two of them and was creating a web of relationships that once created, they would have no right to undo. Sort of like a positive guilt trip. 

The idea of spending my first couple weeks of marriage with any family members is kind of a rotten thought. But I do buy into that concept. A lot. That you owe other people something by virtue of the decision you made to be with somebody. That you create an accountability system that doesn't let you just, on a whim, decide that you're going to try something else, or try someone else out. You create a world where you are beholden to carry through on a promise you made. The beautiful thing is that by letting yourself trust other people enough to recognize that you just can't trust yourself in the moment, your life becomes not only more safe and secure, but it also offers, if you choose to accept that offer - the chance to float that dream aloft, higher and higher.

2007

To hold those dreams in the air and to remember that hey, there may be days where I'm putting on a performance, because I don't feel like being with this person right now. 

I imagine in a joint counseling session that Kori and Jason would acknowledge that there are days where they don't feel like being in the same room. Or the same house. Or the same stage with each other. I think that most, if not any married couple who has been together for a long time, can and should be able to say, without any sense of guilt Yeah, I need my space…sometimes I don't feel like being around you. That's okay. Sometimes you're together in the moment, even when you don't feel like it. Like Mates of State. They have created a world where they are accountable. Where they have a sort of compact with their fans, and by perpetuating that mythology, they have helped (I would think) to create a reality. The world needs more Mates of States. 

(And if they ever do split, this will be one of the saddest pieces I have ever written)

The multitude of gorgeous possibilities in every day with one person. A never-ending opportunity to be ceaselessly inventive and creative by virtue of that one choice. By virtue of being beholden and by choosing to be with that one person.

I am a strong believer in the importance of creative limitations; of the power in setting creative restrictions to help become a better artist so that you're not constantly having to make a million decisions. And being with someone is exactly like that. I don't wake up every day and wonder what person I should be with. I am with one person. And I have an unlimited reservoir of ideas and moments to build and share and invent with that person. That person that I chose to be with yesterday.

And today.

And tomorrow.

We will take our ideas and our voices (not quite in the blended harmonies of Mates :) and we will sail in our Zeppelin together through the seas, through the storms, through the skies, through the days and weeks, and sometimes we will do so alone with each other, and sometimes with many people surrounding. But always, we will look for those opportunities to steal a glance.

At each other.

That is meant for that one other person.

It may be intercepted by the world, and that's fine. Because the world needs to be inspired. And the world needs to see people in love.

Thank you, Mates of State.

We love you.

Mates of State
For the Actor
Bring It Back
2006

2011 Melodies: Seven Songs from Husband+Wife Teams

I have a soft spot for husband/wife musical teams. Something raw, visceral, and seductive about creating something beautiful with someone you like. So I'm always on the lookout for melodies featuring the betrothed.

Some favourites all-time: Low, the Handsome Family, Mates of State, Sonic Youth, New Order, Yo La Tengo, Viva Voce

In 2011, there were some great tracks from the married folk.



Viva Voce. 
Black Mood Ring / Cool Morning Sun.
Portland's own Kevin & Anita Robinson veer between classic rock & roll with psychedelic lustre and lovely, bruising ballads with melodic and sultry swagger. They also write some of my favourite song titles (How to Nurse a Bruised Ego (Back to Health), A Viking Love Song, Analog Woodland Song, etc.)

Me, and her: our creative productions, aside from conceiving two children, are generally in the arena of Visual Arts and The Kitchen. Becca has become an invaluable asset in frequently helping edit (design, video, photography), although her painfully acute attention to detail can be maddening. Also, we cook, and bake, and make food together. Although she has been doing more solo endeavors lately, which I am jealous of. She invented both Vegetable Soup Dish and Sweet Potato Curry on her own, without my help or advice, which I am disgruntled about (see previous December posts).

Someday, we will record an album together. It is a dream.

December 2006, when we were children.

Mates of State.
Mistakes / Palomino.
Kori Gardner and Jason Hammel have been making music together since 1997, and now tour with their two young girls (7 and 3). Their bouncy, dueling synthpoppy songs sound like a Beach Boy on speed karaoking with an Erasure-loving, hipper Belinda Carlisle.  Mistakes has a chorus from Ms. Gardner  that is glorious. I smile, and feel bumps creeping up my arms.

Becca and I met in around the turn of the century, and I thought her bottom looked very nice. I did not voice that fact at the time. Also, I liked her voice. Just the sound of her talking. We have done a great deal of singing and headbanging on our billions of road trips, though we have never played on stage simultaneously. Someday, we shall. I am hoping it will be at Glastonbury.

I did, at one point, take Second Place in an outdoor karaoke contest in SoCal. I blasted out a sweaty, operatic version of Poison's Every Rose Has Its Thorn. Got beat out by an 11-year old girl, who won merely because she was cute, and sounded awful.

$20 / Try to Sleep / Done
Low.
Think of the craziest, loudest, fastest music you can imagine. Got it? Okay. Now I will tell you what the diametric opposite of that is. Low. It is Low. The Minneapolis outfit has been breathing out minimal, hypnotic compositions since 1993.  The opening track of this year's C'mon is apropos to their signature sound: Try to Sleep. The slowbeating core of all that is hauntingly melodic.

Inland Empire, California August 2001

Missoula 2005

Amidst the quiet whispers and occasional desolation, there is hope. That is not a metaphor for our relationship; is it is a concrete statement of Low's music. :) 2011's C'mon is a lovely winter album; a hazy, romantic, nighttime gathering of wishes and hope.

To do what you love, with people you love. That is the dream.

I am in dreams.

Playlist.
Black Mood Rising / Viva Voce
Cool Morning Sun / Viva Voce
Palomino / Mates of State
Mistakes / Mates of State
$20 / Low
Try to Sleep / Low
Done / Low

Dinner Was Palatable, Dear

The following is an interview I conducted with Becca Long. In the interests of disclosure,  I should note that I do have an ongoing, frequently non-platonic relationship with her.

A Gastronomic Conversation with Becca R. Long About Soup, and Love

ONE.
You made a delicious dish for supper tonight, which was a refreshing change from the ill-advised Carrot Apple Lasagna you made recently. What is your new concoction called?

Vegetable chowder.

Magdelana chimes in. "It's called 'Vegetable Soup Dish!'"

Yep. That works. Vegetable Soup Dish.

TWO.
What inspired you to invent this? Describe three inspirations.  If you want, you can include Joan of Arc, or Noah.

Okay. One would be hunger. Two would be cold weather. Three....hmmm. Unconsciously, I suppose...Joan of Arc.

That makes sense.

THREE.
What is in the soup?

Potatoes. Carrots. Corn. Salt. Water. Lawry's seasoning. Dill. Poultry seasoning. Cashews blended up. A smidge of flour and corn starch to thicken. A little black pepper. Garlic powder. Some almond milk.

FOUR.
Okay. So, no magic ingredient, like love?

Uhh, a bit of chaos and compassion.

That doesn't make sense.

FIVE.
What is the secret trick to making a good pot of soup?

It's a secret.

Oh.

SIX.
What do your children think of the soup?

Johannes (17 months) scarfed it down. Magdelana (4 years) loves it.

Magdelana.  It's much better than Mama's lasagna. I call it 'Vegetable Soup Dish.'

SEVEN.
What music would you recommend listening to with this soup?

Magdelana pops in. I was going to say Kimya Dawson, but then I couldn't remember her name.

Back to Becca. A few ballads by Jeremy M. Long. And Sigur Ros. 

EIGHT.
If you had to survive on only one vegetable for an entire year, what would you choose?

Maybe red potatoes for versatility. But spinach would be a close second.

NINE.
What is your favourite colour  of bowl to eat out of?

Green, red, and aqua blue. Bright fiesta colours.

TEN.
How long did it take you to prepare the soup?

Fifteen minutes. Maybe twenty. Washing, peeling, chopping, seasoning. Then I let it simmer for about 30 minutes or so.

ELEVEN.
What sort of food, coupled with minimal exercise, would help me get abs like Ryan Gosling?

(deep sigh and smile)

Fresh vegetable juice and minimal processed foods.

(another deep sigh, and big smile)

Thank you for chatting with me, Dear.

You're welcome, Dear.


****


Note: I kept eating, and eating, and eating. The soup was delicious, and Becca is not even listening right now.  In fact, I am planning to sneak out of bed tonight and help myself to a 2 a.m. snack. In a blue bowl.

Dinner Was Awful, Dear

Becca made supper last night; it was terrible.

Watch Our Shadows Run / Joseph Arthur
Becca and I have seen Joseph perform four times over the past several years. The first time, he was wonderful, and in good cheer, and rocked so beautifully, and his bassist wore a skintight outfit that competed for all our attention, and Becca was pregnant. The second time, he was dour, and depressing, and turned in a passable performance due only to a superb encore, and we were not with child. The third time, he had a pale Norwegian opening for him, and she was lovely nightingale personality and voice, and infected him with enthusiasm. The fourth time, recently, he sang, and played, and painted simultaneously, like in our living room, only someone else's.

And we have seen him each time together, his darkly melodious fuzz a binding ritual. I wish we were seeing him this month, but I didn't have time to invite him for the holidays, and I don't know if he has email, or if he's vegetarian. His latest album, The Graduation Ceremony, is quietly gorgeous.

Strange Negotiations / David Bazan
When I was beginning high school, my mom took a sledgehammer, and bashed out our brick fireplace like Lawrence Taylor on a Sunday. It was a commitment; a commitment to commence the remodeling of our home. When you destroy a fireplace, a fireplace that is the focal real estate in the primary entertaining space; that is a commitment. A commitment to change things; to force yourself into changing. So the remodel began. A remodel which would extend throughout my high school years, and beyond.

1994. Me and Jeremy moving 4x8 sheets in the attic.

Throughout the remodeling, life went on. There were still birthday parties, and luncheons, and many visitors, and many, many celebrations. And we never forgot Christmas, somehow. There were always lights, Clark Griswold lights; billions of lights illuminating the three story skyscraper monument we were constructing. Guess what? Guess who put the lights up?

My dad. And guess who helped?

Us. Me, and my younger siblings.

There may have been an element of risk, as thirty feet is not thirty inches. I think now, I would consider being more...safe.

But the idea of pulling your children into involvement with...everything is one I've carried on.

photograph: Becca Long

Horses / Joseph Arthur
Magdelana helped me put up Christmas lights earlier this week. I wouldn't necessarily call her involvement a huge...timesaver. When Johannes helps me load the dishwasher, and stuffs in not only silverware, but shoes, toys, and books, I would also not call his assistance...invaluable.

But I would not change it, because some things, many things, are not about efficiency. They are about an experience, and a memory. Magdelana's appreciation of our modest lights is highlighted by the knowledge that she helped do it; she did the dangerous stuff with her dad. And her mom was cool enough to stand by offering support, and by making sure she didn't actually get on the roof...

There was nothing dangerous, really...

Contrabanda / DeVotchKa
I wanted a cookie, and I was shopping at Trader Joe's after a long day of work, and I saw cookies. I thought I would buy a package of them. Mini ginger bread men, and I saw frosting. Thought of Becca, and how proud she would be of me if I didn't buy them (I have been known to have an affection for sweet delicacies, and she is a Danish dental hygienist).

I did not get them.

Me, at home: I almost got frosted gingerbread men cookies.
Becca: So did you?
Me: No. I thought you'd be proud.
Becca: Oh man, I love those! Why didn't you get them?


So, disappointment all the way around. Sometimes that's what life is. Pure disappointment, until the next day when we went back and bought them, and now it's after 10pm and I just ate one, and Becca doesn't know, and I'm so pleased with myself, but I know I will be found out, because that's where secrecy gets you.

Where are the gingerbread women? Latent, instititutional gender discrimination.

Calgary / Bon Iver
Becca's dinner, the horrible one:

She is a good cook. We both share experimental culinary productions. I am legendary for integrating corn into my brownies a while back. I thought they were delicious; they got a big fail from all other taste testers. Did I let that get me down? No.  Sometimes ya just gotta try something out.

Which is what she did, with her almost-raw lasagna. Problem is, her attempt to use a carrot-and-apple pulp as the main sauce* was overpowering. I had seconds, out of pity and hunger, and it was moderately palatable, with her successful cashew cheese sauce smothering it. Our kids ate it, for which they should be commended. The remainder goes to the chickens.

*There was also tofu and spinach lurking underneath

(Meta)

I am going to start writing of my bride's successes in the kitchen, for there are many, such as her stunning sweet potato curry. Her dreadful lasagna was not one, and we laughed, and I laughed longer, and then she pretended to get angry and told me I should write about it, which is what I'm doing now.

I did not care immensely for Bon Iver's Calgary when I first heard it, but it magically kept slipping through my iTunes cracks and forcing me to like it. And now, I might be starting to adore it.

Maybe I should give her lasagna another chance.

Wait / M83
The French duo's gorgeous, otherworldly ballad is toasting the world goodnight.

I am so in love with being in love with someone I can laugh at, and laugh at her laughing at me, and just laughing and forgetting why we were laughing to begin with.

Except I never really forget, because I am writing of it now. The annals are written by Herodotus and Homer and me and Margaret Mead.

September the 30th (the sun pranced in for goodbye)

Johannes and I hung around Anthropologie for a bit. Checked out some books, jotted down some ideas for combining 2x4 sculptures with fabric, then hit the streets to smile at strangers, chase birds, and read more books at Powell's.

Lively cohort, conversationalist, and urban adventurer.

Books I have not read and people I have not yet met.

Just don't get chrome that looks like this.

Current listening: Joseph Arthur's Graduation Ceremony. Das Racist. Men Without Hats. Benny Goodman.

I love Portland's parking garages, though I hate to pay for parking in them.

We spotted an automobile, and felt strongly it was driven by somebody who smelled good.

Not an eagle.

Love them.

Love their beds.

Love her.

Like these placemats. We will probably make our own now.

Waiting

1. The Greatest / Cat Power
2. Jeanne, If You're Ever in Portland / Casiotone for the Painfully Alone
3. Another One Goes By / the Walkmen

Saturday night 1.15

Billion raindrops race down windshield. Johannes grunt-slumbers in carseat behind, cheerful smileyhead and indispensable fourth leg in our funny family table.

We spend a lot of time driving, riding, getting from place to place. Also spend a lot of time at traffic lights, in grocery checkout lines, and waiting for a million miscellaneous things or people or events to materialise.

Johannes and I are waiting for Becca and Mags. They are in a Missoula Children's Theater interpretation of "Arthur's Quest." We were all going to go, but upon arriving decided that Big Johanni's muscly almost-seven months old wasn't quite big enough for an hour-long performance with a full audience. So Magdelana and Becca bought a twenty-five cent cookie and grabbed seats.

4. Color of the Love You Have / the Sound Team

JXIL and I walked around Washougal High, then stomped back to our automobile, stuck in a 2006 mix of Yo La Tengo, Cat Power & friends, and took a Saturday evening drive through the hills and faux-fjords of Mt. Norway. Rain thundered, we hummed and slobbered, and conversed a bit about Neil Young. Then JX nodded off.

5. Families / Neil Young

Told my lovely sister-in-law Mary recently, "don't write Neil off...just take a listen to 2006's Living With War...he still writes and rocks as hard as ever." Neil has spent a career singing about two things: love and war. Take a guess what this one's about. Seesaw guitars and his straining vocals make my arms explode with chills, particularly on Families and Lookin' for a Leader.





6. When Doves Cry / the Be Good Tanyas

7. Pink Glove / Pulp
Lights up, body goes spastic, arms and legs marionetting, eyes basketball, at sight of me, or Becca, or Magdelana.

Especially Becca.

8. How to Nurse a Bruised Ego / Vive Voce

2003


One of the best things Becca and I ever did for our relationship early on was nothing intentional or deliberate: we just spent a lot of time traveling together. Mostly via automobile, but there was also a memorable 35-hour Greyhound adventure.

Our early motor car travel was spent listening to billions of hours of music. She introduced me to Ben Harper, Nick Cave, and the Monkees; I showed her Joseph Arthur, Lucinda Williams, and the Kinks. We invented mobile Twister variations and made fun of fast drivers and ate Taco Time veggie burritos and made excuses to make extra coffee stops and laughed a lot, and wondered what kind of parents we might be someday. We talked a lot. Little, stupid, ridiculous, and unimportant stuff.

9. Helicopters / the Crayon Fields.

It is millions of conversations about little, stupid, ridiculous stuff that helps pave the way for the occasional deep, meaning-of-life talks. But you can't just go straight to them. You gotta build a foundation of countless little ones.

2006/2004/2005

We filled the in-betweens with fun. We packed those travel hours with joy.

I like all the little things in life, the mundane waystops between destinations. The waiting. The in-between. The wasted space. The chance to hang out with my son for an hour in a drenched parking lot, even if he slumbers while Jarvis Cocker discos through Pink Glove for the third time.

10. Black Flowers / Yo La Tengo
11. Tribute to Linn / Anna Ternheim

I want our children to grow up learning how to discover the joy in waiting; in filling those cracks with excitement.

Johannes is up. Time to dance.

2002 Becca, on our honeymoon

POSTSCRIPT
Magdelana returned from the performance regaling me with tales of dragons, damsels, and giants. She wants to be in a play. So we are going to write one together.

It's a Clean Pile, Mostly

I am pretty good at laundry.

Not as good as Becca, but I'm learning stain stick magic, and I can fold a wicked pair of jeans. Mostly due to a holiday stint at Old Navy years ago, which was interesting and awful. A good memory now.

Sometimes, I want to throw in the towel and forget making clean clothes. But there is something not very enjoyable about playing games with dirty laundry, particularly when the game is hide-and-seek with the underwear pile and it's getting dumped on your head by the most mischievous three-point-five year old in the galaxy.

I have learned many amazing laundry tricks from Becca, but the loads I do never end up quite as crisp, or stain-free, or delicious-smelling as the ones she does. It will be a lifelong quest, I suppose. It is maddening. She is a laundering genius. I started washing my own clothes long before getting married, but mine was a naive process of depositing a monthly accumulation of mixed colours into the machine, twisting the dial to Warm/Cold, and standing watch to make sure the next student didn't just yank my clean laundry out immediately after the cycle ended and dump it all on the communal floor. 

Then my tutelage began several years ago, under the concerned but permissive guidance of Rebecca. My eyes were opened to the complex balance of Art, Science, and Superstition that is the foundation of perfect laundering. There's still so much I don't get - I am not allowed to handle entire loads of Johannes pooped-out onesies solo, for example, or most delicate apparel items from Anthropologie. But I am a bright student, and despite her concerns, Becca has found the strength to relinquish total control over our laundry, which is a massive process, and made much easier by having two of us able to keep things going throughout the week. I still screw up - do not make me relive the humiliating rookie move of not hang-drying her Italian jeans...

I am but a humble student, and look forward to the distant day where I will be expert enough to match socks on my own. You are not ready, she tells me.

***

Magdelana has become a maestro of towel folding. Tom Sawyer picket fences, that's how we do it. I believe in The Fun Theory: there is no mundane task that cannot be turned into something fun. 

Good night. I am off to read Borges by flashlight.

Whatta Month

Wodensday 22.
3.18 am.

Lykke Li on headphones, just moved Little Man to Mum's bosom.


Fantastic day. Johanni latched onto my hip, glug-drooling and clutching at anything in reach, including hair; Magdelana co-directing our pumpkin pie baking production and explaining important trivia to captive audience:

"Jo-Jo, do you know what this music is? It is M.I.A. 

Can you spell it? M - I - A. And this is Arcade...do you know the rest? 

Arcade...Fire. Arcade Fire. And the best singer is Kimya Dawson. 

Hey, can we listen to Kimya Dawson now?

Had a dizzyingly exciting game of hide-and-seek this evening. There was a total of one hiding spot, underneath a massive pile of unfolded (clean?) laundry. Becca and I took turns hiding with her while the other searched...

Also, did some sewing this morning. Mags wants to make bags for several people, including her friend Dylan, whom she sees infrequently. 

What would he put in the bag? I asked.

Umm, probably sports stuff.

Tuesday 21.
almost midnight.


At Urban Outfitters today, Magdelana discovered a colourful paper-collaged mirror and admired it...

Hey Dodes, that's a really cool mirror. We should try making it when we get home.

Oh how I love that girl.

She also shot almost 300 pictures in Portland on my camera, from the drive-by safety of Johanni's stroller.



Montag 20.
11.33 pm.


Magdelana has not been an easy child in the sense of being a girl who eagerly hugs new aquaintances and smiles at strangers. She is not someone who will perform on demand.


She is stubborn and loyal and has the willpower of an ostrich.


I would change it for nothing. Nothing.


I cannot imagine a daughter more fun and entertaining and engaging to converse with.


She prayed for her imaginary food today.

Dear God,

Thank you for how Johannes gets more beautiful every day, and more kind every day, and thank you for all the smiles he gives me every day.

Amen.

Sunday 19.
9 pm-ish.


Our favourite Christmas tree winks across the room, dead branches sprouting from log-trunk like Tim Burton elfin arms.


We found it. Invented it. Made it.


Johannes is snoggled up with his Mum, wrapped in favourite fuzzy pink blanket. He is in love with her, madly.


Ferocious and sweet Magdelana finally nodded off.


What a wonderful sister she is to best friend Jo-Jo. Big into:


wrestling,
purple & pink,
books,
Sesame Street,
drawing,
chasing,
baking,
and talking about her sister Tully and friend Dylan. 


The former is imaginary and the latter someone she rarely sees, but who has achieved near-mythical status.


Joshua and Sasha birthed their child Stella on Friday. Jamey and I drove over to see her yesterday. She is adorable. Nine pounds of chubby squawking macaw.

We have been listening to a great deal of hip hop lately.


Jamey and Chief helped put in a new front door this afternoon. What studs, though we did not have to replace any. 

Jamey is such a positive person. A terrific example to me. Even when life is low, he laughs. 


Depressed about Jeremy not being here next year. We are encouraging him to do his Bachelors and Masters at Clark Community. He and Lanessa are so much fun.


Also, Becca has been leaving snippets of inspirational advice on his Facebook wall. Generally it is drawn from hip hop classics, the most recent being Saul Williams' Act III scene 2 (Shakespeare), one of the most chilling, goosebump raising anthems you will ever hear. Play it very loud. And then go change the world.

‎"...I tried to hold my tongue, son, I tried to bite it, not trying to start a riot or incite it /
Cause Brutus is an honorable man..."

Go play like Nero. 

Leanna and Jonny return from Hawaii tonight. Leanna successfully completed her 26-mile competive jog. Jonny took gorgeous pictures. Go look at them.




Becca and I are Eminem fans.


I just have such a soft spot for him, she says, as we watch him and Lil Wayne blast through a scintillating duet on Saturday Night Live. Which we are not watching live, nor is it Saturday night. It is becoming an enjoyable program again. Fred Armison is a comedic chameleon. Tina Fey reigns supreme though.


In end-of-year legislation: Don't Ask Don't Tell was repealed. About time.


The DREAM Act fell five votes short. It would have given certain deportable students who had entered illegally as minors the chance to earn permanent residency - provided they met certain criteria, such as two years of military service or two years at a four-year college...


2012 will be an interesting election. May karma rise in full force.