Monthly Archives: November 2010

Milano

Halloween weekend was a weekend of music for us. It left me with a kind of buzz or high that carried me through at least half of the following week.

Not that I would know what a ‘buzz’ or ‘high’ feels like anyway. Ehem. Right.

Friday night was a blues concert hosted at the West side location of our church. It was incredible. Whoever that guy was on the harmonica–genius. Pure genius. My friend Carrie also sang, and she was fan-tas-tic. I love having musician friends–they are such an inspiration.

During her performance of ‘Black Coffee,’ Carrie crooned:

Now a man is born to go a lovin’
A woman’s born to weep and fret
To stay at home and tend her oven
And drown her past regrets
In coffee and cigarettes

Upon the utterance of the word ‘cigarettes,’ the young children seated right in front of us looked at each other in astonishment. “Is she promoting smoking?” they seemed to be asking each other with shocked eyes.

It was the funniest moment of the night. Their parents must be doing a great job.

Saturday night we went to a venue called Subterranean in Wicker Park to see a band called Milano. The subway was full of people in costume.

Sightings included: a creepy bride with a torn and bloodied gown. Zorro, as pictured above. Some kind of zombie drummerboy. There’s nothing like Halloween weekend to give that edge to the night.

We’d seen Milano once before, and were so excited to see them again. They’re a Chicago based band with a style that is a mixture of rock and folk. Jon Guerra, the lead singer, has an incredible and unique voice that pierces and soars. It’s like he’s putting 100% of his artistry and intentionality into each note.

Carrie and her husband Eric were also there. See if you can guess what they’re dressed as:

Extra points for anyone who can guess Eric’s costume. I’ll give you a hint: weird British TV show that Carrie and Eric swear by. Blue laser light thingy. And that’s all you’ll get out of me.

The energy at the concert was great. The first and second bands were pretty good, but vreeerrry loud. We had to take our eardrums outside for a breather to make it through. Sometimes I forget how loud live music can be, and then I go to a rock concert and I feel like somebody has inserted a drillhammer in my cochlea.

Milano was the 3rd band to play, and they were by far the best of the three. They were all dressed as characters from ‘Clue,’ which made them look even cooler than they normally do. You can’t tell in the picture above, but the violinist had a rockin’ Miss Scarlett vintage costume, complete with a piquante netted hat.

I want that hat.

But more than the hat, I want her mad violinist skills.

Milano’s style is described as ‘gypsy rock’ and they have gorgeous harmonies that make me want to burst into song with them. The interplay of the different instruments is genius. If I were of the correct age and disposition, I would strongly consider being their groupie. The concert was in celebration of the release of their new EP, which has 5 songs on it. The recording doesn’t have the raw energy of their live performances, but I’m slowly reconciling myself to that fact. Just like when we go to see Harry Potter #7 (release date is November 19th, I believe) I will have to reconcile myself to the fact that the movie just can’t be as good as the book. The songs are well recorded, but they don’t fully capture the controlled yet wild abandon of Jon’s voice. If I were in the music business, I’d sign these guys in a second. Then I’d assign them the best producer of all time. Then I’d re-record a couple of the numbers. And I’d re-make the first and second Harry Potter movies too, while I was at it.

Here’s their website–give ’em a listen. They’re awesome. And if you live in Chicago or its environs, you absolutely MUST try to catch them live. They make me thrill, cry, and want to fly straight up into the heavens.

I leave you with the lyrics to ‘Black Coffee’–totally unrelated to Milano, but they’ve been haunting me as of late:

I’m feeling mighty lonesome
Haven’t slept a wink
I walk the floor and watch the door
And in between I drink
Black coffee
Love’s a hand me down brew
I’ll never know a Sunday
In this weekday room

I’m talking to the shadows
from 1 o’clock til 4
And Lord, how slow the moments go
When all I do is pour
Black coffee
Since the blues caught my eye
I’m hanging out on Monday
My Sunday dreams to dry

Now a man is born to go a lovin’
A woman’s born to weep and fret
To stay at home and tend her oven

And drown her past regrets
In coffee and cigarettes

I’m moaning all the morning
and mourning all the night
And in between it’s nicotine
And not much heart to fight
Black coffee
Feelin’ low as the ground
It’s driving me crazy just waiting for my baby
To maybe come around… around
I’m waiting for my baby
To maybe come around

My nerves have gone to pieces
My hair is turning gray
All I do is drink black coffee
Since my man’s gone away

10 fears about mothering and pregnancy

While leafing through the family photo albums my Mom so generously left at my house for an undetermined amount of time, I was able to put 10 fears to rest that have been lurking in the back of my mind regarding mothering and pregnancy. I thought I’d share them with you today, so that you can see how I’ve managed to overcome them one by one.

1. I’m too young to have that kind of responsibility

Well, my dad was practically a minor. Just look at him:

OK, he was actually 28 or 29, but seriously folks–does he look a day over 16?

2. My house will become overrun with child paraphenalia

Not necessary! I slept in a cardboard box.

I was bathed in a trash can.

I guess I don’t need a ton of stuff for my future babies–I mean, they don’t even know the difference between their fingers and their toes, much less between a fancy bathing apparatus and a brown trash can. My parents kept their house very free from self-multiplying plastic objects, and I find that inspiring and relieving. Phew!

3. My schedule will be chained to the sleep schedule of my child

My parents simply put us to bed wherever we happened to be. Like at a concert. Hey, they were musicians, and we had to adapt.

There’s my Dad running the mixing board. I think this was in Japan, and I’m looking a little spaced out. Apparently they kept a blanket by the mixing board, and when it was my bedtime simply put me down on the blanket where I peacefully entered dreamland. Children are more adaptable than I would have imagined–and they can adapt to me as much as I can adapt to them.

4. My house will become an uncontrollable mess

Well, if I follow my Mom’s philosophy I will simply put my children to work. I mean, all day long I worked the family’s farm . . .

. . . and then I got home, tied my tresses up in a bandanna, and got ready to give the house a good shake down. My Mom didn’t take any excuses–here she is saying “Alright Jenna, don’t come back until all the curtains are laundered and pressed!”

She didn’t even care that I had just laundered and pressed them, like, two days ago!

While the house was my responsibility, the birth of my sister Erica fulfilled the vacancy for groundskeeper and chauffeur.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah Dad–just take the dang picture and let me finish washing the car.”

I’m so glad to know that I too can simply train my children to do all my work for me, while I sit on the couch issuing orders, drinking coffee and nibbling on scones.

5. I will become frumpy and hideous

This picture of my Mom was taken when I was almost 2 years old.

Yes, my Mom is a classy broad. Here she is again with her two sisters (she’s on the left), around the same time:

That classy lady second from the left is my grandmother:

I have inherited genes that indicate frumpyness may not be in the cards for me. Or if it is, my extended family will whip me into shape so as not to disgrace their name. I have historical evidence for this claim: Aunt Jessie was put on frump alert many years ago, and was immediately forced to the nearest beauty salon to fix the issue.

She tried to resist, but she was no match for her determined mother, the one wielding the cane. It’s nice to know that I have the kind of family who stamps out frumpery and beautifies you even against your own will.

6. If I have daughters, they will steal my shoes and clothes at the earliest opportunity

 

OK, well, that may happen. But nobody seems particularly upset about the arrangement, as I see it.

 

7. It’s so hard to travel with children that we will never go anywhere

Well, here are my parents in San Francisco . . .

. . . and in New York City . . .

. . . and my Mom in Japan, with me in the stroller and Erica on the way.

These are just a few pictures of the many I could have included showing them in places like Florida and Niagara Falls, with small children in tow. Being in a band, travel was part of their life menu. And if they could do it, dang it, so can I!

8. My children will yell and scream

Well, my childhood pictures prove that it’s possible to have a 100% fuss-free kid. I am always smiling, always cheerful, with a surprising maturity for my young years. My good attitude from birth forward created a very peaceful home environment.

Yes, I was a perfect child and I expect no less from my future children. Calm, wise beyond their years, and zero whining.

Hey wait! How did that picture sneak in there!

Someone’s gonna get fired over that slip-up.

9. Once you have them, they’re with you all the time

If I choose to follow my parents’ example, I can simple pack my child up (with packing peanuts for safety–don’t worry) and ship them off to the nearest baby store, Attn: Returns Department.

As long as you print off your certified baby return label, it should be easy as pie. Then, when you feel like having that baby again, you simply go to the pick-up counter and retrieve him or her. Couldn’t be more simple.

10. Baby stress will cause untold marital tension

My Dad once said that having kids has provided them with the funniest moments in their life. They have never laughed together more than over one of us and our ridiculousness. Instead of driving them apart, raising us three girls has brought them closer.

Thanks, Mom and Dad, for doing such a great job and providing a solid photographic record that I can return to for inspiration, encouragement, and ideas.

                                                               *************

Now it’s time to talk about the one fear I haven’t been able to shake or disprove. It’s something I’m really having a hard time even thinking about. It may be the source of regret, frustration, and physical discomforts untold:

The fear of not being able to sleep on my stomach.

I mean, I’ve been doing it practically since I was born.

And I don’t think there’s any way of getting around it . . . unless I buy a special mattress with a hole in it. I just have to decide if this final concern is a ‘make it or break it’ moment in our child-bearing plans. Wish me luck as I try to make a wise choice.