Friends

One of the coolest things about having the Baines clan in town is watching J.P. and Finn together.  They're just a few months apart in age and really enjoy playing with each other.  Here, they're sitting on the wall in our front yard before the Leaf Party last weekend.

Uncle Carley and Joe.

Leaf Party X

(10:30 p.m. - sitting on the front porch after a 3-mile night run, glass of wine in hand, listening to Paul Burch on Spotify)

Another fall, another Leaf Party has come and gone.  Leaf Party X was our best so far, Jude and I agree.  Saturday was absolutely gorgeous, with the temperature in the mid-50's (we'd been a little bit nervous about the weather, given that we hosted the party a couple of weeks later than normal) on a beautiful fall day in Nashville.

"Hurricane Baines" rolled in Friday night, although it was quickly downgraded to a tropical storm when Wolf and Scout stayed with friends in Franklin.  We had pizza from Mello Mushroom, hung out for a while, then turned in for the night like the old folks we seem to have become.  I laugh as I write this, because there was a time when I would have two coolers of beer iced down - one with Miller Lite (mine) and one with Bud Light (Troy's) - when the Baines arrived for the Leaf Party Weekend and Troy and I would stay up late, late, late on Friday night.  Not anymore, though.

Saturday morning, Duane Pierce (J.P.'s gardening mentor and friend), arrived early to finish up the yard for us before the party.  He blew the leaves in the front hard from our stately old maple tree into the shape of a heart, which was pretty cool.  And, as usual, we busied ourselves with various tasks to get ready for the party - going to the grocery store for last minute supplies, icing down the beverages, cleaning up the yard, straightening up the house, etc.  Everyone pitched in to help, even J.P. and Finn.

Soon enough, our guests began to arrive and the party was on full force.  We had our biggest crowd ever.  In the front yard, the kids laughed and screamed as they jumped in the leaves, make leaf piles, buried each other in the leaves and threw leaves on each other.  In the back yard, some of the older kids played soccer.  And, or course, kids ran in and out of the house to get food, juice boxes or use the bathroom.  As always, three hours just flew by and before I knew it, people were leaving so they could put their kids down for naps.

As the party wound down and most people left, our good friends, Ann Marie, Rob and Ayden Elliott stayed and talked with Jude, Troy, Cyndi and me.  I brought "the jawbone" out and turned on some music and the parents had a beer and talked quietly while we watched our children playing in the leaves in our front yard.  If there are a few enduring memories I have of this wonderful house when we finally leave it to another family, one of them will be Leaf Party X's "after party," when I stood on my front porch with my friends, my dear friends, laughing and talking while our young children played together on a breathtakingly beautiful fall afternoon.  I felt so content, so full of pride as I watched J.P. playing and looked at Jude holding Joey, talking to our friends, that a part of me wished I could freeze that moment in time, like a snapshot.

During the party, I had been tickled when Scout Baines sidled up to me and a little sheepishly asked, "can we still go on our 'secret walk' after the party, Uncle Phil?"  I smiled and said, "you bet."  The "secret walk" is a tradition I started years ago with Wolf and Scout and, every year, I fear they will have outgrown it.  While everyone else naps, we go for a walk, play follow the leader then, on the way home, pretend like we're spies.  For at least one more year, they wanted to go no the "secret walk."  And we did.

Saturday night, Troy and I went to the Vandy-Tennessee at Dudley Field.  For the first time in 30 years, Vandy beat Tennessee in Nashville.  I was as unhappy as Troy was happy.  Ironically, I was in at Dudley Field with my mom the last time Vandy beat the Vols in Nashville (I was 16 years old).  I helped tear down the goal posts to celebrate.  Um, not this time.

Sunday morning, Cyndi and I went for an awesome 4-mile run and met the rest of the gang at Bongo Java for breakfast.  Then, it was back home so the Baines could pack up and hit the road, which they did all too soon.  As we watched them drive away, we all felt the inevitable Sunday morning Leaf Party   hangover, J.P. especially.  With tears in his eyes, he looked up at us as we sat on the steps near the street and said, "I wish Finn could stay 3 more days."  I looked at him, smiled, and said, "I do too, buddy.  I do, too."  Then I put my arm around him and we followed Jude and Joey up the steps and into the house.

Vegas Summit 2012

I'm sitting on my front porch, laptop in my lap, savoring a perfect fall night in Nashville.  It's almost (but not quite) chilly, with the temperature in the mid-50's.  Joe and I just returned from a walk to Cha Chah on Belmont Boulevard, where I had a glass of wine while he slept.  Good times in the 'hood.  

I'm listening to Shelby Lynn, "Live at McCabe's," on Spotify.  

Friday - Monday afternoon, Jude and I were in Las Vegas for the annual Foodbrothers' Summit.  It's a trip we take every fall, but it was the first time we had both been away from the boys.  I felt conflicted, because it was so, so nice to be away for a few days, on our own, with no responsibilities.  I felt guilty, actually.  On the other hand, I missed the boys so badly while we were away.  I couldn't wait to get back home to see them.  Jude felt the same way.  

We stayed at the Wynn, as usual.  It's Jude's favorite hotel/casino in Las Vegas.  It's nice to return there year after year.  We ate at a couple of nice restaurants (Sinatra's, for instance) and spend quality time with the Foodbrothers' gang (always the highlight of our trip).  The gang watched college football (and gambled on college football) all day Saturday, as is our custom.  I had a good day Sunday, betting on NFL games.  

We got back to Nashville on Monday, just after lunch.  After spending a little time with Joey (and Jude's parents) at home, we drove to Children's House to pick up J.P.  We parked in front and let ourselves into the playground through the gate.  When J.P. saw us, he grinned and ran across the playground to Jude, laughing with unbridled joy.  He jumped into her arms and hugged her, still laughing.  I'm not sure I've ever seen him that happy.  She set him down and he ran to me and leaped into my arms, still smiling and laughing.  I'm not sure I've ever been that happy and content.  

I was overwhelmed with my good fortune to have the family I have.  Jude and I are so blessed to have these boys.  It's amazing, how lucky we are.    

Time Traveler

I've always been fascinated with the idea of time travel.

I don't care about being able to make myself invisible or being able to fly.  Being able to travel in time, though, that would be awesome.  

Well, you know what?  It is awesome.  I just never realized how easy it would be.  The key, apparently, is to have a son (J.P.), wait four years or so, then have another son (Joe).  It's as simple as that, or so it seems.

Lately, when I'm with Joe (7 1/2 months), I often find myself transported back in time four years, to when J.P. was the same age.  It's a random thing and I have absolutely no control over it.  It just happens organically.

Tonight, after dinner, Jude was helping J.P. take a shower in our downstairs bathroom while I fed Joe.  I was sitting in one of J.P.'s small, wooden white chairs - a Pottery Barn special - hunched over, back aching, trying (unsuccessfully) to persuade Joe, reclined in the bouncy chair, to open his mouth and eat a tiny spoonful of Gerber's turkey baby food.  He was royally pissed at me - bawling, red-faced, squirming - the whole nine yards.  He didn't want Gerber's turkey.  He didn't want Gerber's organic green peas (which was coming next).  He wanted Gerber's rice cereal.

As I looked down at him, baby turkey and baby organic green peas smeared all over his face and hands, it hit me like a bolt of lightning.  It was 2008 and I was staring right into J.P.'s eyes again.  It was  surreal.

The same thing happened on Saturday afternoon, when I strolled with Joe down to Belmont Boulevard.    We stopped in at Chago's Cantina, so I could feed him.  I wasn't sure how I was going to manage it, other than just to feed him while reclining in the stroller.  What the hell, I thought, I'll just stick him in a high chair . . . for the first time ever!  So I did, he ate all of his lunch and he loved it.  And I loved it, too.

As I alternated between feeding him and taking photos of him with my iPhone, I was hit by the time travel lightning bolt yet again.  Suddenly it was 2008 and J.P. and I were in Tabouli's (the predecessor to La Fiesta/Chago's Cantina) together and I was feeding him lunch on a Saturday, laughing at him sitting in the high chair like a big boy.  Again, surreal.

And, so, that's how I travel in time.  And it is pretty damn awesome.

        

One of Those Nights

Tonight was one of those nights where I found myself feeling so happy to live where I live - in the city.  Never a dull moment and always something to do.  A near perfect night, really.

After dinner and bed for J.P., Joe and I strolled down to Belmont Boulevard.  For the second time in the past week, we stopped in at Cha Chah, a restaurant next door to Chago's Cantina.  I rolled the stroller into the bar, moved a couple of bar stools, and sat down.  We had the bar to ourselves.  I read a book on my Kindle Fire, drank a glass of wine and talked to the bartender and a server about music, books and iPhone apps.  

Then, Joe and I strolled home on a beautiful, early fall night.

My 'hood is my home and has been for the last ten years.  Initially, after Jude and got married and I moved into our house on Elliott Avenue, I thought, "what in the hell have you gotten yourself into."  Now, I can't imagine not living where I live, in the city.  So much to do, so many places to walk to, so many friends I've made and so many walks I've gone on with J.P. first, and now, Joe.  I realize I don't live in a big city, but this city - Nashville - at least where I live, is a part of me and always will be.    

The Great Pumpkin Vine

(at Bongo Java w/Sleeping Joe, drinking a "mood elevator" and listening to Neil Young - "Live at Massey Hall (1971))

I've been dying to write about the magic pumpkin vine growing wild (and I mean really, really wild) in our front yard but, until now, haven't found the time.  It's been one of the highlights of my summer.  I suppose it's appropriate to write about it tonight, since tomorrow is the first day of fall.

The first week of July, as we were gearing for our week of vacation at Santa Rosa Beach, Fl, I noticed a vine of some sort growing in our front yard, along the sidewalk near our front porch.  I didn't think too much of it and, frankly, I was glad to have anything growing in the front yard at that point.  Almost all of our grass had died due to the lack of rain and the hot, hot weather.

Upon closer examination, I realized it looked an awful lot like a pumpkin vine, which was weird, because Jude had planted some pumpkin seeds in the garden (but not in our front yard, obviously) back in the spring.  I decided to let it grow and told Duane, who mows our grass, to mow around it while we were gone on vacation.  He left it alone and when we returned to town, it was clear we were dealing with a runaway pumpkin vine.  At that point - in mid-July - the vine was about 3 or 4 feet long.

One of the cool things (and there are many cool things about it, actually) about the pumpkin vine, then and now, is that we had and have no idea where it came from.  The theory we like the most is that a bird picked up some pumpkin seeds after Jude planted them in the garden and dropped 1 or 2 in the front yard.  Or, perhaps, Jude and J.P. dropped a pumpkin seed in the front yard while they were walking to the garden.  On the other hand, maybe the pumpkin vine is magic and it decided on it's own to grow in our front yard this summer.  Maybe it will grow in someone else's yard next summer.

Anyway, the pumpkin vine continued to grow.  And grow and grow and grow.  Almost by the day, as the summer marched inexorably on, we could see it had grown substantially bigger than the day before.  Soon it was 10 - 15 feet long and bright yellow blooms appeared up and down the vine.  The blooms themselves are very cool - they open up wide in the morning and bees fly lazily from one bloom to the other.  By midday, the blooms close completely, not to open again until the next morning.

By mid-August, it was readily apparent the pumpkin vine has a life of its own.  It had grown in a straight line along the sidewalk, parallel to the front of our house, all the way to the garden.  When it reached the garden, it made a 90 degree turn and grew toward the street.  Then, it started shooting vines off toward the sidewalk again.  Now, the pumpkin vine measures probably 30 feet in one direction, 40 feet in another direction and it's covered, conservatively 20% of our front yard.  Friends that stop by the house marvel at it.

We even have a couple of pumpkins that are growing, one that's actually decent in size with a fully formed stem, which is cool.  J.P. and put some straw down underneath one of the baby pumpkins to prevent it (hopefully) from rotting from sitting in the dew in the mornings.

This evening, as J.P and I played "landscape company" in the front yard and Joey watched us from his bouncy seat on the sidewalk, I noticed for the first time that some of the large, normally deep green leaves near the origin of the vine were turning yellow.  I looked closer and saw that the original vine - which has been a green so deep it's almost black and very, very thick - was starting to wither away.  I'm  pretty sure the entire vine, and the pumpkins, are going to die, slowly.  That makes me sad.

The summer - Joey's 1st summer - is ending - dying, if you will, never to return.  The same could be said of the magic pumpkin vine.  I've so enjoyed looking at it each day, before and after work.  It's been great to talk about it to J.P. and to look for pumpkins.  It's been fun just to wonder how the pumpkin vine got there and how it grew so rapidly.

I keep thinking the pumpkin vine is a metaphor for something else.  Something bigger.  Something that came into my life unexpectedly, brought me great pleasure, then left too soon.  I don't think I can go that deep tonight, though.  It's almost 9:45 p.m. and time to head back home on a beautiful night - the last night of the summer of 2012 - with Joey sleeping peacefully in the City Elite stroller.

Maybe that's what the pumpkin vine represents - all of these summer nights I've spent with my youngest son, strolling around the neighborhood as he slept.  Winter will be here soon and, also soon, Joey will be too big for me to stroll him around at night.  He'll be sleeping in his bed and I'll be back to watching TV or reading, and these summer nights spent with him will fade away until their just a distant memory.

Or maybe it's just a pumpkin vine.