I fell in love over the weekend.  While Joe was out helping friends move Saturday, and press apples into cider with Nathan yesterday, I wasn’t feeling well and cuddled up, somewhat guiltily, with Julia Child’s memoir My Life in France, and I fell in love with her, her husband, her life.  Over the summer there was a newfound interest in her, with the release of the movie Julie & Julia, and a friend loaned me the Julia memoir and said she thought it was something I’d like, and was she ever right.  From bringing back my own reminisces of our sadly-short week in Paris to the picture of her poussiequette (pussycat–and I will always say it the French way from now on)  on the kitchen counter and subsequent cat stories, to her detailed descriptions of all their meals, I loved it.  (The only thing I didn’t like about the book was the promotional pictures plastered all over the cover for the above mentioned movie, which didn’t feel right to me, seeing Meryl Streep as Julia on the outside and filled with real pictures of her on the inside. But, hey, it’s not my book.  Were it my choice, I would have gone and bought an original.) 

Amazingly, I do not own a Julia Child cookbook in my collection of nearly a hundred cookbooks, (my son hasn’t shaken his head at me and counted them lately, so not sure on the current number)  nor do I recall ever seeing her cooking show The French Chef — not my working mom’s type of thing.  I’m afraid I probably didn’t know much about her until Dan Akroyd’s skit of her on SNL.  Oh, I had a Trivial Pursuit kind of knowledge of her, “Woman most noted for popularizing French cooking in the US,” or something like that, and a mighty respect from an amateur kinda-gourmet cook’s view, but now I feel like I really know who she was.

The book is essentially a love story, beginning with her newfound passion for all things French, in particular food, and her newlywed husband.  The book evolves into her love for teaching and writing, too — what she called working on her “cookery-bookery” —  but what truly opened my heart to this book was her relationship with her husband, and how I felt this poignant parallel with her marriage and my own.  For one, her husband is creative, and a photographer, as is mine.  He’s supportive of her every move, from deciding to take classes at Le Cordon Bleu to writing a cookbook.  In every new place they move into he outlines all her pots and pans on a pegboard and hangs it up for her, her batterie de cuisine, and one time when she’s spent all this time on a special cake for a party she gets frustrated with the final decorating touches and he steps in and does it for her. That is so Joe (and Lori)!  They were a great working team, calling themselves “Pulia.” They were unable to have children, but just went forward loving each other and the life they had, like we did.  When they had people over for dinner they went all out, “treating them like royalty” and I believe that’s what we try to do.  But what almost made me cry was when I turned a page and there was a two-page spread of some of the Valentine’s Day cards (they always ran out of time at Christmas)  they made and sent out to hundreds of friends each year. A portion of one is on the original book cover up there. I ran outside to sticky-fingered cider-pressing Joe and said “Look, look, they did cards like our Christmas cards!”   I was rewarded with a steamy (literally, as it was cold outside) kiss and a deeply dimpled smile, and left with a need to cook something French.

Last year's Christmas card.

John, Joe, Heidi, Lori, Scott & Kevin

 

RS:  First off I have to let you know I caught your debut the other night at your Halloween party, and I must say, you guys put on quite a show. How did it feel up there in the spotlight?

L:  Well, there were a lot of friendly faces, and we were in costume, too, hiding behind a mask, as it were, so it wasn’t so bad, really. Kinda hot, mostly. ‘Course that could have been the dancing beforehand, or the beergarita, or, now that I think of it the Scooby Gang brought those tasty Jello-shots…

RS:  Yeah, the crowd loved it when you were demanding Jello before you even started.

L: Jello is fun.

RS:  Ha! Right!  Tell me about the white vest you were wearing.  What’s it called?

L:  Well, I haven’t really thought of a name for it yet. (long pause) Oh, you mean the product!  GlowFur.  It’s faux fur that glows, get it? There’s a little 9volt battery in a pocket inside that keeps that baby glowing for hours.  Me too!  Very popular on the Playa at Burning Man this year.

RS:  Oh, were you there?

L: No

Blake, guest spot, & John

L:  There’s a funny story to that, really. The original band, John the bass player, Kevin the lead guitar, and Joe on woodwinds and vocals, called themselves the Shed Hacks.  When they got together again about a year ago, with a new drummer, Scott, they sweet talked me into playing with them because they needed some rhythm guitar on Ballad of John and Yoko, and they needed a fresher name.  We were the Scallawags for a while, then were unofficially calling ourselves Scott Free because the drummer quit. But we had to scrap that because our new new drummer is also named Scott.  Finally I came up with a great one everyone could agree on, only to find after a Google search a week later that it was already taken, and by a local band, even! 

Kev!

RS:  What was that one? 

L:  Dix Deluxe.  Isn’t that great?  But another band had it.  There was a lot of trash talk among the Basementeurs about them right away, ‘… Dix Deluxe sux!’ that kind of thing, you know.  So, what do you think of the platinum hair? 

RS:  Nice, nice.  So, I see by your set list you’re doing all covers right now. How about originals?

L:  Well, even though I sing and play the guitar, – I can’t decide which is scarier, by the way, not that you asked – my true passion is writing. I like to think of myself more as a writer; a wordsmith.  Like you!

RS:  Oh really. (long pause)  What songs, if any, have you written?

L:  The most recent would be one I wrote while Joe, my husband, was unemployed for five months, Sugar Mama Blues.  Before that I wrote a rock song inspired by my son called Mama Used to be a Rock Chick.  Then there was Lesbians to Polyblends…the only one with music; a lot of good flute in that one.

RS:  And what inspired that song?

L:  What do you think of the name Trixie for my GlowFur?  Oh, it was based on a tangential conversation.  The song.

RS:  What do you see for The Basementeur’s future?

L:  Would you like a cookie? 

Andy, Hannah, Lori and Joe "Horndog"

Ohmigod! I am eagerly awaiting the regrowth of Joe’s beard!

GlowFur vest and 'magenta' velvet boots! We're stylin'!

And we were the party hosts, people.  Would you take a homebrew from this man?  Would you take anything from this man?

Foxy couple!

I can’t believe we didn’t get a shot of Hannah’s shoes!  They were truly towering. My son Nathan (no good shots of the elusive lad…) was doing the greatest imitation of her the next day during cleanup, prancing around on his toes “I’m so tall, I’m so tall!!”  My equally tall leopard platforms became unsoled; fortunately Hannah was there to catch me as I fell, and I had a back-up pair, though not as tall as Hannah’s.

Crowd pleasers, The Scooby Gang!!

Joel, our brother-in-law Kevin, Joe’s sister Mary, and Tracie. These guys were the Flintstones and Rubbles last year; Daphne on the right there was Bad Betty. And to be honest, I would be bad if I had legs like that!  I did get even with her biting Joe’s Luchadore nipple last year by biting her back this year. I won’t say where…Isn’t the pose awesome!  I’m thinking dark Goth theme for next year.  Maybe they’ll be the Adams Family?  Kevin would be the best Lurch!

I tell you, it’s not a party if my tongue isn’t hanging out at some point. I love how serious Andy is here, and then, there’s Joe…The next day I was going to tell him he could get the rest of the eyeliner off with a Qtip, but…ummmm…. forgot.

This photo’s a little soft focus, as there may have been movement involved, so I’m putting it in a bit smaller than the others.  I just needed to add it, because I wasn’t sure if all these other photos convey just how much fun Hannah was having.  She’s either laughing or singing here, both which equal happy.

Andy took these right before we left for Lori and Joe’s amazing Halloween party. I hope there are some photos of us at the party, you know, without my big coat on (although I do love that coat)!

Check out the logo on the new shirt I got in the mail on Saturday. I saw an article about it in an ALA-related e-mail message I got last week and ordered the shirt right away. Here’s a link to the site in case you want to buy one, too, or if you want to know what those Latin words mean.

I had another excellent week librarian-wise last week, so the shirt arrived at the right time. Lori and I attended a wonderful event at Third Place Books mid-week, featuring Nancy Pearl and several local-ish authors. Then, I went to Seattle Bookfest yesterday and watched my friend Linda do an outstanding job of moderating a panel of local book reviewers. I took notes at both events and hope to carve out some time soon to type them up and share them with you.

I also read some fabulous new books last week. Fall, glorious, fall. I love you! Thanks for the opportunity to wear tights and turtlenecks again, the chance to kick through all colors of leaves when I walk to work, and for bringing so many amazing new books and authors to our lives.

Okay, you can’t say you weren’t warned. This post is about soccer. I need to rave about three soccer-related events right now:  the Seattle Sounders FC qualified for the MLS playoffs, baby; the U.S. men’s soccer team qualified for the FIFA World Cup, which means I finally have a legitimate reason to post a topless photo of Landon Donovan; and a new movie about a former coach of Leeds United (a British soccer team, or really, an English football team) is opening in Seattle this weekend.

We are big-time soccer nuts here at our house and let me tell you that this is an outstanding time to be a soccer nut. Did you see that Seattle Sounders/Kansas City Wizards game on Saturday? What a roller coaster. My boy Freddie Ljunberg was THE MAN. He got two assists and was his usual Tasmanian devil out there on the field. He is the one who makes it all happen — offensively, defensively, and emotionally. His generosity is unbelievable. His vision and tenacity are awe-inspiring. He’s like a moving tree trunk out there — when players run into him while he’s dribbling or try to mow him down he remains upright, defying physics. My only gripe is his need to get up in the ref’s grill so often. Maybe it’s a psychological thing he needs to do, to pump himself up and psych out the players, but I always worry that he’s going to pick up more cards in the process and get booted from the game.

The Sounders could have very easily lost that match on Saturday. Even though they were up 1-0 fairly early on, I was nervous. I told Andy, “this feels like a 3-1 loss to me, with the Sounders losing.” And, sure enough, the Sounders were down 2-1 before too long and Freddy Montero was choking like crazy. He missed two dead-easy gimme shots that had me screaming like a maniac at the TV, “Take him out of the game, Sigi! Pull him now!” And, I’d like to thank you now, Coach Schmid, for listening to me and yanking Montero out of the game because that turned the game around. Roger Levesque came in, focused, and ready to score, thanks to an assist from Ljunberg. Then, Nate Jaqua scored, again thanks to an assist from Ljunberg, and the Sounders ended up beating the Wizards, in Kansas City, 3-2. That makes the Sounders the second MLS team ever to qualify for the playoffs in their first year as a team. What a beautiful season this has been. Thank you, Sounders.

Thanks to a 3-2 win over Honduras on Oct. 19, the U.S. men’s team is now guaranteed a spot in the next World Cup tournament, to be held in South Africa next June. We had dreamed of going there in person, but have decided to stay here and watch it on TV instead. Early notice to all of our soccer friends — we’ll be watching as many matches as possible that month and you are welcome to join us here, at all hours. Thank you, Landon Donovan, for scoring that third goal to clinch the U.S. team’s spot in the World Cup and for giving me a good reason to include this photo of you.

And, finally, Andy and I hope we get a chance to go see The Damned United this weekend. I’ve read that it doesn’t feature a lot of actual soccer playing, but it’s an excellent behind the scenes look at Leeds United and British football at a specific time (late 60s, early 70s). In other words, during the soccer scenes, the shorts will be very short.

The other day, I did something new. I volunteered at KUOW-FM, our local NPR station, during its latest pledge drive (which we always call begathons at our house, but I promise I was good and did not use that word at the station). I’ve been a big supporter of KUOW for years, donating money, and listening way too much. KUOW pretty much kept me sane during Lily’s first few months when I spent most of my time sitting in a glider rocker, nursing Lily, and pretending that I was still in touch with the outside adult world because people like Carl Kasell, Bob Edwards, and Nina Totenberg spoke to me through the radio.

I’m not sure why, but I had never volunteered to help take phone calls during a pledge drive before last week. And you know what? I’m so glad I finally did it. I had a blast. It’s a total nerd-fest, as you can imagine — a bunch of smart, over-educated people who don’t have something better to do at that time. I volunteered for a four and a half hour shift while Lily was at school one day and I wasn’t scheduled to work at the library. The time flew by, even though the phones weren’t exactly ringing off the hook. I took plenty of calls, but there were definitely lulls.

I can’t speak highly enough of how well KUOW managed the whole experience. They clearly have their systems down after hosting so many pledge drives over the years. They communicated well before the event — when to arrive, where to park, etc. Directions inside the station were clear, because it can seem like a maze to a first-timer like me. The training info was brief but helpful. Even the special challenges held during my shift (“first ten callers at the $100 level get a copy of Sarah Vowell’s new book,” e.g.) were expertly explained and executed. And, there was a kitchen full of food and beverages the whole time. We were treated like adults — you can take breaks when you want/need for as long as you need, with a request that you try to stay available during the on-air pledge breaks.

The set-up is basically a room filled with tables, chairs, and phones. You walk in, pick a chair and hope that you’re not sitting next to freaks. I ended up sitting near fascinating people, most of whom had volunteered before. As I’ve mentioned before, I’m not great at meeting new people, but I always have my fallback — talk about books! And we did, for hours. And, because we were all NPR nerds, we talked about our favorite NPR shows and announcers. The 6 foot 8 artist sitting next to me shared my love of all things Warren Olney (host of To the Point). Another person was reading Setting Free the Bears, so we had a long talk about John Irving and about his upcoming visit to Third Place Books, which Lori and I will definitely be attending. The woman across from me loved Wallace Stegner. Hooray! I’ve read Angle of Repose twice.

And, then, in-between chatting about our crushes on NPR hosts and authors, we actually took phone calls from listeners who wanted to give money to the station — thousands and thousands of dollars. Talk about a quick way to improve your possibly cynical impression of people these days. I spoke to some people who were clearly not wealthy, but felt compelled to help support something they believe in. Most of my callers weren’t interested in the thank you gifts at all, which surprised me (especially since I was quite fond of the robot t-shirts at the $100 level). They wanted all of their donation money to go directly to programming.

At the end of my shift, I felt exhilarated. I loved listening to and talking to the callers, my fellow volunteers, and the staff. It’s a feeling I get whenever I get a chance to hang out with other like-minded people on a volunteer effort. I will definitely volunteer again during the next begathon pledge drive. Let me know if you want to join me and we can do it together!

When disco shimmered into being back in the 70’s, I wasn’t really into it.  In fact I used to have a tee-shirt that said Disco Sucks on it and a few friends and I made our disdain official by creating a mock anti-disco club, printing membership cards and ceremoniously (snickering to ourselves all the while) placing them in the Class of 79 time capsule.  I was in a dance contest in Bangor once, with my then-boyfriend, and while we were surrounded by flashy, hustling disco dancers we rebelliously did our own free-style rock thing and won!  Dancing in our own spotlight in the huge darkened Navy warehouse to We are the Champions was a teenage highlight.  I get all fuzzy and heart-thumpy to this day when I hear that song.

Of course I wouldn’t admit it back then, but I was a closet disco dancer.  There’s something about that thrumming beat that pulls you out to the dance floor.  I had some brown silk pants, platform shoes, and an off the shoulder peasant blouse, with a cool hat on top of my carefully feathered hair, and went out to a dance one night, I believe with Hannah and her slinky-shirted, (younger) tight pant (oh my!) wearing date who had the moves, baby!  If you went off the island to the thriving megatropolis of Mount Vernon, you could go to an all-ages discothèque, complete with lighted panel dance floor!  I only went once, outwardly above it all, but inwardly enthralled.  It was magical.  My parents (Abba freaks) went to a disco on a visit to Spokane  and saw a guy wearing a glow-in-the-dark arrow necklace, and promptly ordered some for all of us from a magazine.  (That’s where I get that impulse-purchasing thing from!)

For the last few weeks I’ve been compiling 70’s songs for our upcoming 70’s-themed Halloween party.  I tell you it’s overwhelming, daunting, crazy-making even, taking an entire decade of truly great songs and fitting them into a single party play list!  I have almost 10 hours already and I haven’t even touched some of the classics.  Besides all the great rock, I’ve been having a blast with the disco music I never had.  When the beat finally starts on Gloria Gaynor’s I Will Survive, it’s like I’ve released my inner drag queen—forget the fact I’m a woman, that’s not how I dance to it; it’s too wonderfully campy to do it straight.  I become a simpering, prancing, Disco Diva.  No wonder it’s taking so long to get this play list together!

The other morning before work we had one of the disco compilation CDs playing (Hannah’s been generously feeding us them—thank you),  and after Joe left I finished getting ready, and came out and had to dance to Abba’s Gimme Gimme Gimme (a man after midnight), and couldn’t stop when It’s Raining Men followed it.  I called Joe on his cell phone and told him very seriously I couldn’t leave the house….I was having a Disco Breakdown, and proceeded to dance and sing very loudly into the phone for him.  Because it’s best to share those kinds of things.   So dance!

Last week I attended readings by two of my favorite authors, within the same week that I had read their most recent books. In other words, I was in librarian heaven. Or, as Kenneth suggested, it was a librariangasm.

First, Lori, Joe, Andy, and I saw Sherman Alexie at Town Hall on Tuesday night, and all four of us were blown away. Alexie, currently promoting War Dances, his new book of short stories and poetry, started by reading a poem called “Ode to Mix Tapes,” which made me squeal with glee. The evening was built on a mix tape metaphor – a little of this, a little of that, tied together by music performed by Sean Nelson, formerly of Harvey Danger. It worked beautifully. Alexie would read a piece of prose or a poem and then leave the stage. Then, Nelson would play a song from the ’80s (requested by Alexie) on the piano and sing. Tracey Ullman’s “They Don’t Know,” Madonna’s “Borderline,” and Simple Minds’ “Don’t You Forget About Me” were standouts. Alexie told lots of personal stories and jokes, also, of course, not from the book. Damn, Sherman Alexie is funny. But, he’s also honest about tough topics like race and privilege and makes you wince, which is a good thing. Oh, and just so you know – that man can wear the hell out of a nice suit.

The adorable Nick Hornby signs books at the Central Library -- Photo by Joe Mabel

On Friday, I saw Nick Hornby read from his new book Juliet, Naked at the Central Library. He was adorable. Totally adorable. Funny, feisty, and inspiring. Hearing him read from Juliet, Naked made me appreciate it even more, but it was the Q&A session that made the evening so wonderful. He gave thoughtful answers to questions he must get terribly sick of hearing when he’s on a book tour. He didn’t like a couple of questions, though, which turned out hilariously. One woman asked a big, long question about common themes running through his work, with the term “excessively sentimental” stuck right there in the middle of her question. Hornby grabbed right onto that when it was time for him to respond and it was awesome:  “Excessively sentimental, huh?” Then he threatened to run up to the row where she was sitting and fight it out with her. “So, you’re basically saying that I’ve written The Waltons fifteen times?” Then he gave a fantastic explanation of how he prefers to include some type of hope and redemption in his work, rather than writing books full of misery and gloom. Then he said, “Good night, John Boy!”