finding that rainbow connection

Sunday at Newport Folk: slightly cooler, a little less disorientation, a lot more exhaustion than Friday. I’d moved on Saturday, then had a long morning trying to return my truck and get myself down to Fort Adams. By the time I arrived I was tired and hungry, and frankly not at all sure I wanted to be there.

I bought lunch from one of the food trucks, but I was so tapped out I could hardly enjoy either it or the upbeat set from Lake Street Dive on the main stage. (I do love Rachael Price’s voice, and I got a kick out of seeing Hozier come up and join them for a tune or two. He always looks so moody in his videos, but his grin was a mile wide that day.)

After lunch, though – and a gallon or so of water – the rest of the afternoon definitely improved.

I wandered over to the Quad stage to catch Our Native Daughters and was absolutely stunned by their vocals, their songwriting, their fiddling and banjo picking and their bold presence. I could listen to Allison Russell sing all day long, and Amythyst Kiah wowed the (mostly white) audience with the anthem “Black Myself.” Serious power there, folks.

After that, I hopped over to hear Molly Tuttle (a Berklee alumna) and Billy Strings in a soulful, rollicking set that included – to my utter surprise – a cover of Cher’s “Believe.” (It worked, surprisingly.) I got some tacos and returned to the same spot, sitting in the grass with my back against the fort wall, to listen to the Milk Carton Kids and take a few deep breaths. I saw them open for someone – maybe Glen Hansard? – at Berklee years ago, so hearing them at Newport felt like coming full circle.

My reason for going back on Sunday – and the day’s real magic – came at the end: the festival’s closing set, known as If I Had a Song. It was a singalong, featuring too many great musicians to count. But the first one was small and green.

Yes, that is Kermit the Frog. And yes, he cracked a few jokes, and invited the crowd to sing along as he performed “The Rainbow Connection.” Pure magic, y’all. (I adore the Muppets and he is my favorite.) Jim James – wearing a fabulous rainbow-cuffed jacket – joined him, but I only had eyes for Kermit and his banjo.

The magic just kept coming after that: Trey Anastasio (and our Berklee students) playing the Beach Boys’ “God Only Knows.” Rachael Price and the Preservation Hall Jazz Band giving us all chills with “We Shall Overcome.” Brandi Carlile and Alynda Segarra jamming out on “If I Had a Hammer.” Our Native Daughters leading the crowd in “If You Miss Me at the Back of the Bus.” I was standing in the front area, clapping and grinning and singing my heart out.

One of my favorite parts of Newport was the generous spirit of collaboration – everyone up there, singing together, and having so much fun doing it. Hozier came back out with Lake Street Dive for “Everyday People,” and then he joined Mavis Staples (who looked tiny next to him but brought the house down with her vocal power) for “Eyes on the Prize.”

Robin Pecknold (from Fleet Foxes) came out onstage for “Instant Karma!” and stuck around for “Judy Blue Eyes,” which featured Judy Collins herself in an amazing magenta dress. They sang “Turn, Turn, Turn” together, and then Colin Meloy and the Milk Carton Kids came out to sing “This Land Is Your Land.” (Meloy called it “just as much of a national anthem as the one we’ve got.”)

The last song, which made me cry, featured Ramblin’ Jack Elliott and as many musicians as could cram onto the stage, swaying with their arms around each other, singing “Goodnight Irene.” Our string students joined in on that one too, adding their notes from the back of the stage.

I looked around: sunset light, fans and musicians singing together, banners blowing gently in the breeze. It was a picture-perfect ending to a weekend that embodied the sign at the top of this post: be present, be kind, be open, be together.

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The smaller rituals of the season

On Monday morning, I dropped off a thick stack of Christmas cards at the post office.

The hubs and I sat at the kitchen table the night before, listening to Christmas music, surrounded by sticky labels and the ever-changing list I print off and then mark up every year. We both reached for our phones several times to text friends for new addresses. As I said to Jaclyn, the act of virtually asking for a physical address seems to capture December in the modern world. (That might go double for Jaclyn herself: we met online, have exchanged many snail-mail letters and even met in person a few times, and are mostly keeping up via text and blogs these days.)

I only write down many of these addresses once or twice a year: my aunt and grandparents near San Antonio, my housemates from grad school in England. A cluster of houses in southwest Missouri, where my dad grew up and his family (by blood and by choice) still lives.

Some of these folks I don’t talk to all that often, and haven’t seen for years. But their addresses, and the physical act of writing them by hand, are in there. And sending Christmas cards – choosing a photo, scrambling to update the list, finding an hour to scribble notes on the back of each card to our loved ones – is one of the small but important rituals of the season.

Last week, on a rare weeknight at home together, we watched The Muppet Christmas Carol over bowls of spicy carrot-ginger soup, delighting in the songs and silliness and cracking up at the asides by Rizzo and Gonzo. This weekend, we ordered takeout from our favorite Indian place and watched White Christmas. I giggled at Danny Kaye’s facial expressions, marveled at Vera-Ellen’s footwork, and welled up when the General walked down the stairs in his uniform. (Every year.)

So much (I keep saying) has changed in the last few years: my job(s), our address(es), the way we navigate so much of our daily lives. This year, Advent has felt hard and different; I’ve missed some of my usual traditions, like the church Christmas pageant and the a cappella notes of O Come O Come Emmanuel.

But some of the season’s tiny rituals remain the same. J has hung the felt mistletoe ball in the doorway between the dining and living room. The words in my Advent book are still there, sustaining and comforting and sometimes shaking me awake, as I page through them before bed. The cyclamen and poinsettias at my florist are vivid and glorious. The shop windows all over town are sparkly and festive. I’m fighting (hopefully defeating) my annual December cold, and laughing at my sister’s photos of her Elf on the Shelf, Oliver, and his antics.

We are making travel plans, packing, doing laundry, finishing up the Christmas shopping. I am humming the familiar carols, and singing them with others, when I can. (We spent Sunday morning at a lessons and carols service that fed my soul and made my heart sing.) We bought (more) wrapping paper and Scotch tape this weekend, and the tiny coat-hanger tree I’ve had for twenty years is sparkling away on top of the microwave.

Some of our neighbors have set electric candles in their windows, and the sight warms me when I glance outside after dark. Before I go to bed, I pause in the kitchen to glance out the window at the quiet street, then in the living room to take in the glow of the Christmas tree before unplugging it for the night. So much of each day feels hurried and hectic, but just for a moment each night, there is peace.

Advent is about the waiting, the longing, the gaps between what ought to be and what has not yet come. We are waiting, we are hurting, we are tiptoeing toward Christmas. And while we wait, I am savoring every bit of joy.

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So much yelling. (And laughing.)

The hubs and I recently watched Clue, for the first time in a while. We quote it incessantly (“Flames on the side of my face!” “Well, to make a long story short…” “Too late!”) but it had been several years since we’d enjoyed it in full. If you love the board game, the ’80s or ridiculously campy humor, I highly recommend it.

Afterward, I mentioned a trend I’ve noticed recently: Most of our favorite movies involve a lot of yelling.

I don’t mean my favorite movies (You’ve Got Mail, The Sound of Music) or his favorite movies (Schindler’s List, Field of Dreams). I mean our favorite movies: the ones we love to watch together. The ones we quote on a daily or weekly basis. The ones that make up a substantial part of our vernacular, along with a few beloved TV shows: Friends, Castle and Modern Family, which also frequently get loud.

A partial list: The Emperor’s New Groove. (“Yay! I’m a llama again!”) Pirates of the Caribbean. (“Why is the rum gone?!”) Monty Python and the Holy Grail. (“I don’t know that!”) The Princess Bride. (“Inconceivable!”) The original Star Wars films, both for the battle scenes and C-3PO’s incessant cries of “We’re doomed!” And, of course, anything and everything involving the Muppets. Even White Christmas, thanks to Danny Kaye, has its fair share of shouting. Honorable mentions include The Money Pit, Singin’ in the Rain (Cosmo Brown!) and the old Pink Panther films starring Peter Sellers as Inspector Clouseau.

Some of it’s a function of the genres we watch together. Adventure and comedy films inevitably involve a fair bit of noise: explosions, shouting matches, attempts to save the world – or just the day – gone horribly wrong. (The Muppets’ adventures tend to include all of the above.) There’s also a lot of winking at the camera: whether the characters overtly break the fourth wall (or smash right through it, in the case of the Muppets), the audience is almost always in on the joke.

I can’t forget the nostalgia factor, of course – we’ve loved and quoted a lot of these movies, especially New Groove, Pirates and Clue, since our college days. And honestly, a lot of times it’s pure escapism. I usually don’t have a socially acceptable reason to scream at the top of my lungs, but it cracks me up when my favorite characters do it: “They don’t KNOW we know they know we know!”

I love a sweet romantic comedy or a beautifully shot epic saga as much as the next viewer. My husband is partial to dark psychological thrillers, which, frankly, creep me out. But if we’re on the couch together, you can usually find us watching something funny. And cracking up when things get loud.

Do you notice any oddball themes in your favorite movies?

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New York in the fall

Ah, New York in the fall. It makes me want to buy school supplies. (And send bouquets of newly sharpened pencils to charming Internet friends.)

Seriously – the hubs and I hopped down to NYC in mid-October for a long weekend, and it was, as always, delightful.

We arrived Friday night and settled into our apartment – a charming retreat (found via Airbnb) in Prospect Heights, Brooklyn.

Our hostess recommended Chavela’s, promising that the Mexican dishes there would meet even our Texan-snob standards. She was right.

Guacamole + sangria + enchiladas = mucho delicioso.

On our way home, we stopped in at Forte, a brand-new cafe (they’d been open three days!) for apple cider and pumpkin cheesecake. Delicious.

Saturday morning found us checking out the Brooklyn Flea – sadly under-attended due to chilly rain. But J did make a new friend.

We dropped in at the Greenlight Bookstore, a favorite discovery on our last trip to Brooklyn, and popped in to see the Greene Grape’s new digs. (And to split a zucchini-cranberry-chocolate-chip muffin. Wow.)

We headed to the West Village later, enjoying chai and a lemon scone at Ciao for Now, then wandered the tangled streets for a while. We ended up, not surprisingly, at a bookstore – Three Lives & Co.

Its cozy space is chock full of fascinating books. I could have browsed for hours.

We then caught the subway up to Lincoln Center, because the on-site library branch had an exhibit I had to see.

Blueprints from the original Sesame Street set, sheet music for “Rubber Duckie” and “Bein’ Green”…

…all kinds of cool Henson/Sesame Workshop trivia, and half a dozen of our favorite Muppets (including Super Grover, in the clouds!).

 

We left with smiles on our faces (noting on the way out that the exhibit is “brought to you by the letters N, Y, P and L”).

After a bit of shopping and wandering in the neighborhood, we walked up to the Upper West Side for dinner at a sidewalk cafe.

I’m still not sure if the maitre’d’s Italian accent was real, but the pasta and wine were delicious.

After dinner, we headed up to West 83rd Street, to a place I’d walked by but never entered.

For the uninitiated, Cafe Lalo is the setting for an important scene in You’ve Got Mail – when Kathleen Kelly arranges to meet her Internet admirer and is shocked to see her nemesis Joe Fox instead. (The railings outside are the scene of Fox’s mini-freakout before he walks in: “She had to be! She had to be!”)

Our experience wasn’t that dramatic (thank goodness), but the desserts are out of this world.

Sated and satisfied, we headed back to Brooklyn for a cozy night in.

More New York photos and stories to come.

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November reading roundup #1

Alone in the Kitchen with an Eggplant: Confessions of Cooking for One and Dining Alone, ed. Jenni Ferrari-Adler
I loved this collection of essays on solo dining and cooking, featuring writers ranging from Laurie Colwin to Ann Patchett to several folks I’d never heard of. Some folks cook gourmet meals for themselves; some folks cobble together leftovers; some folks make the same comfort food over and over. (I made Amanda Hesser’s “single cuisine” eggs recently.) Essay collections can be uneven, but every single piece here is delicious.

The Girl You Left Behind, Jojo Moyes
I loved Moyes’ previous novel, Me Before You, and also loved this story. Edouard Lefevre, a French artist, paints a portrait of his wife, Sophie, before leaving to fight in World War I. Sophie and her sister are forced to cook for the occupying German forces, whose Kommandant is fascinated by the painting. Decades later, the painting hangs in widow Liv Halston’s ultramodern London home, a gift from her husband. When the artist’s family brings a lawsuit, claiming the painting was stolen, Liv delves into Sophie’s history to prove it wasn’t. Page-turning, heart-tugging and rich with historical detail.

Have His Carcase, Dorothy Sayers
Harriet Vane, recovering from a murder trial (detailed in Strong Poison), escapes to a quiet coastal town, where she promptly finds a dead body abandoned on a rock. The body is soon washed away by the tide, but Harriet mounts an investigation. Lord Peter Wimsey, who never can keep his long nose out of a mystery, arrives shortly and the pair of them pursue the case up and down the coast. Engaging and fun, full of red herrings and witty exchanges between Harriet and Lord Peter.

Jim Henson: The Biography, Brian Jay Jones
It is difficult to overstate my love for the Muppets. I grew up on Sesame Street, and I love the Muppet movies and The Muppet Show – the whole Muppet world. I especially adore Kermit the Frog, who was in many ways Jim Henson’s alter ego. This brand-new biography of Henson – packed with quotes from Frank Oz, Henson’s wife and children, and many others who knew him well – was utterly fascinating. The last chapter, which detailed Jim’s memorial service, made me weep. Thoroughly researched and so much fun.

Heirs and Graces, Rhys Bowen
Lady Georgiana Rannoch (Her Royal Spyness) is invited to a stately home in Kent to help groom the duke’s new Australian heir for high society. But the duke soon ends up dead, stabbed by the heir’s hunting knife – and complicated family politics give several people motive for murder. The plot of this one fell rather flat, and I missed Georgie’s Cockney grandfather, who only made a cameo. Not my favorite of the series, though still fun.

Early Decision: Based on a True Frenzy, Lacy Crawford
I picked up this novel after reading Lindsey’s glowing review. Anne works as an independent college admissions counselor, assisting wealthy high schoolers and their parents with applications and essays. But while she helps her students find their voices and take charge of their own lives, she’s stuck in a holding pattern, afraid to pursue a different career or find real love. Crawford’s writing is sharp, insightful and compassionate, and her characters come alive through their essays. Thought-provoking and wonderful.

Wonder, R.J. Palacio
August “Auggie” Pullman was born with a severe facial deformity, so he’s always been homeschooled. But now he’s starting fifth grade at Beecher Prep, and all he wants is to be treated like a normal kid. Narrated alternately by Auggie, his older sister Via and their friends, Wonder traces Auggie’s journey through the school year, from science projects and English class to the social politics of the lunchroom. Heartbreaking, funny and ultimately hopeful.

Fangirl, Rainbow Rowell
I loved Rowell’s Attachments, and loved this book too. Cath Avery is a shy, confused college freshman, overwhelmed by the new world she finds herself in. She retreats into what she’s always loved: writing fanfiction about Simon Snow (a Harry Potter-esque magician). Her twin sister, Wren, is pulling away from her; her surly roommate’s ex-boyfriend is awfully cute; and she’s worried about her dad, left all alone in Omaha. A sweet, funny coming-of-age story and a fun look into the world of fanfiction.

Rose Under Fire, Elizabeth Wein
I loved Wein’s Code Name Verity – this novel is a companion to it. Rose Justice, American transport pilot and aspiring poet, gets captured by the Nazis and sent to Ravensbruck, where she and a tough, ragtag group of women work together to subvert the SS guards and stay alive. Heartbreaking (and told in horrifying detail), the story extends from the camps to the Nuremberg trials after the war. Sobering and yet stubbornly hopeful.

This post contains IndieBound affiliate links.

What are you reading?

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Silence. A poem, by Rowlf.

April (in case you hadn’t heard) is National Poetry Month, and on Fridays this month I’ll be featuring some of my favorite poems. I thought I’d kick things off with some original performance poetry from my old friends the Muppets:

Totally worth watching to the end. It’ll crack you up.

Who are your favorite poems and/or poets?

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All I want for Christmas is some cookies.

I’m a longtime fan of Sesame Street, cookies and Christmas – so this montage of Cookie Monster attempting to ask Santa for cookies is just about perfect. (From Christmas Eve on Sesame Street, which my parents taped off TV about 20 years ago. We still have the creaky old VHS tape, complete with commercials, and we still watch the clips below, and Grover playing Santa, every year.)

 

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list #41: the silliness

Because life can get altogether too serious sometimes, don’t you think? Here, a list of silly things that make me smile:

1. The Muppets. In pretty much any form – whether it’s YouTube videos, episodes of The Muppet Show or the Sesame Street Twitter feed.
2. Mutts – the comic strip following the adventures of Mooch the cat, his friend Earl the dog and their pals.
3. Sprinkles on my ice cream. (And the fact that Northeasterners call them “jimmies.”)
4. Polka dots. They’re just so happy.
5. The Aflac duck (who is also on Twitter).
6. Veggie Tales. (Clearly I’m easily entertained by kids’ shows.)
7. My husband. (Yes, he’s silly.)
8. Our friends. (Ditto.)
9. Puppies, wherever I encounter them.
10. Blog posts of utter hilarity, like this one from Joey. (Actually, this one made me hoot with laughter.)

What silly things make you smile?

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muppets for your wednesday

I’ve gushed before about my love for the Muppets – I grew up watching Sesame Street, became a fan of the movies in college (thanks to Jeremiah), and watched three seasons of the show last fall. I can’t get enough of these musical, goofy, completely adorable characters and their antics. (We watch our favorite Muppet videos on YouTube regularly.) I especially adore Kermit the Frog.

So – in case you hadn’t heard – they’re making a new Muppet movie. And yesterday I saw this:

Doesn’t it look fantastic?

I cannot WAIT.

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one more sleep ’til christmas

Okay, I know tomorrow’s Christmas Eve, not Christmas Day. But Christmas always starts for me on Christmas Eve – and besides, this clip from The Muppet Christmas Carol is too precious not to share.

Hope this brings a bit of joy into your day, friends. After all, there’s only one more sleep ’til Christmas Eve…

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