This was the scene out my back door this morning. Set up by my 4-year old, Judah. He just received a box full of Matchbox cars from his cousins in Chicago. And this is either an extremely organized display of admiration for his new booty or he has some serious Type A tendencies. Only time will tell.
Sigh. It’s June 1, and like clockwork, the cold, damp fog has taken hold of San Francisco. Time to pull out the winter clothes. I always lament this time of year just a little. Ten months out of the year I have no complaints about this town with it’s eternal sunny skies. But June and July in San Francisco are just the worst in terms of weather. I live in the sunniest part of town too, with some of the best views of the city. So when it’s foggy in my hood, you know it’s bad.
Here’s the view of the city from my hill this morning. I felt like renaming this Say Hi...track to “June Was White, July Was Grey”. I will definitely feel better when the winter’s gone.
Say Hi….“November Was White, December Was Grey”:
No island in Greece has wowed me more than Falengandros. A tiny, remote and foreboding outpost, Falengadros was once known as the Alcatraz of the Agean. A place where exiles were sent to eek out an existance. Now no more than 600 people call the island home and landing here was a welcome respite to the tourist atrocities of Santorini. Sheer cliffs, white washed walls and a stark yet colorful landscape make it a photographers paradise. The subtle shades of red, orange, yellow and green shrubs that dot the hillside looks like a giant bowl of Trix to me. And the sunsets…amazing!
All throughout our stay here I’ve had this song from Here We Go Magic stuck in my head. The song is ‘Fangela‘, but it sounds so perfect when I sing it ‘Falengandros’.
Here We Go Magic, “Fangela”
I can hang out with my kid at Delores Park AND get an impromptu African jam/break dance session!
My NPR Music Notes newsletter today contained an interesting article on music and kids that completely resonated with me. Entitled Bringing Up Baby, As Music Lovers Might, it speaks to the careful diligence new parents, who are passionate about music, take when selecting the music their child will listen to.
Being a music snob, I always found children’s music to be trite and belittling. Why do we have to dumb down music for children? Just because they’re tiny and unable to speak, doesn’t mean they can’t comprehend what’s going on around them. Turns out I was right about that. Babies can recognize surprisingly complex rhythms and are sensitive to the differences between consonant and dissonant music.
Hell bent on eliminating Barney and anything remotely like it in our household, I created my own child-friendly music program for my little guy, Judah – which has turned into a bit of a rock history overview in the process. James Brown, The Flaming Lips and Cut Copy were early favorites. Now he asks for the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, The Duke Spirit and The Raconteurs by name. And I swell with pride every time he does so.
I know I’m going to catch flack from all you kid haters for this, but here’s the video that solidified my theory on kids and music – that they don’t need to be fed music through a purple dinosaur in order to connect with it. Here’s Judah, not even 2 years old, channeling the Grandfather of Soul himself. (He still uses our T.P. holder as a microphone to this day.)
An empty Chicago O'Hare airport around midnight, waiting for luggage.
Listen to Loney, Dear, “Airport Surroundings”:
The Swedish indie pop group is on tour supporting their new album, Dear John, and will be performing at San Francisco’s Bottom of the Hill on May 15.
Listen to Sleepy Sun, “Sleepy Son”.
Listening to another SXSW discovery this week, San Francisco psych rock group Sleepy Sun and their track “Sleepy Son”, I couldn’t help but muse what I would give to have one some mornings. Every day I’m startled awake by a little 3 year old drill sergeant who comes barreling into the room announcing “It’s morning time, Mommy! Get up, get up, GET UP! LET’S PLAY!”
At what age do we lose our enthusiasm for getting up in the morning? I’ve given this due thought and can honestly say I can’t recall, but I don’t ever remember having the kind of energy and enthusiasm to greet the day like Judah does. I should feel lucky really because he sleeps until 7:00AM (very humane in the kid world). Yet I am pained every morning by this process and find myself constantly devising strategies to extend my sleep.
Set breakfast out the night before? 10 minutes. Let him use me as a race track for his cars? 20 minutes. Allow him to do something semi-destructive like launch hot wheels with his car shooter into the wall? 30 minutes. But the mother of all sleep aids? TV. Movies are a regular early morning weekend routine. We’re talking 90 solid minutes of quiet, blissful, uninterrupted sleep. A few weeks ago, I found my ace in the hole, Mary Poppins. 2 hours and 23 minutes of sleep heaven!
A quick break from our regularly scheduled program for a public service announcement plugging a cool project from local photographer and blogger, Julie of Tangobaby. She’s launched a new blog called I Live Here: SF that features portraits and stories of the people that call San Francisco home. It was amazing to meet her, hear her story, share our goals and ambitions and be a part of her dream. Such an interesting interlude to a random Friday.
Since we connected through the blogosphere, music was a big part of our conversation. As was fashion and my current obsession with my new peacock feather necklace. (Isn’t it pretty?) I was asked recently what we were listening to when this shot was taken. I can’t recall exactly, but if I had to choose one song to reflect my mood it would be Iran’s “Buddy“. I’m in love with this song. (More on this band later.)
Listen to “Buddy“:
And so the age of imagination begins. While it may look like my boy is seriously lacking in table manners, he’s actually pretending to be a kitty-cat. Kitty-cat Judah to be exact. He mews, crawls around on all fours, likes to be petted and – most importantly – insists on being served a bowl of milk. Preferably, he’d be drinking from the bowl off the floor, but we had to draw the line somewhere. So here he is lapping up the leftover milk from his cereal bowl. I try not to get too disturbed by these episodes and instead focus on the positive aspects – like his creativity and commitment to character. Who knows, maybe he’ll be a respected character actor like Philip Seymour Hoffman one day.
Listen to M. Ward‘s “Never Had Nobody Like You” from his new Hold Time album out now.
The days of Mommy and me bath time are officially over. Our innocent games of squirt toys, pirate ships and rubber ducky have now turned wrong…really wrong. The first cause for alarm was when he tried to use my chest as a race track for his cars. In an attempt to redirect his attention, I leaned over to fish out his squirty dinosaur toys from the bottom of the tub. When I sat up he said, “Ohhh, Mommy, your boobies are all wet. Shake ’em off, Momma, shake ’em off.”
Whoa! Okay, all done. While I do feel a little violated, in a strange way I think I’ve gained more insight and perspective into the male mind. It’s all starting to make sense this nature vs. nurture thing. You really can’t help yourselves, can you? You just learn how to censor yourselves with age.
Check out Canadian indie rock quartet The D’Urbervilles “We Are the Hunters”. Their debut album We Are the Hunters is out now. Look for them at SXSW.
the OCMD 