By: Jillian Lauren

When the inimitable Dolly Parton gave the above-mentioned advice, she was no doubt on tour in San Francisco. I don’t have any pictures from the Mountain View show because I was busy stumbling after the baby while wearing- you guessed it- high heels on a soggy lawn. Or more like a slippery backstage deck area. But there is something gorgeous about rock in a rainstorm. Seen from backstage, the rain catches the stage lights and intermingles with the smoke amidst an amphitheater full of undaunted fans in ponchos and it feels like something extraordinary. Which it always is, really, but sometimes it’s easy to forget how lucky I am to regularly witness the transformative potential of live music. My friend Gina (wife of Bad Religion’s Brett Gurewitz) once told me that she always feels fortunate to live in rock-wife liminality- not exactly an audience member but not a performer either. My friend Danica was in the audience and now has a massive crush on Rivers, which probably would have happened anyway, but I think there was a little extra magic in that rain.

The guys still have the San Diego and Irvine shows left to do, but writing this from my desk at home, I feel like the hard part is over. And the hard part got pretty hard for a minute there. I skipped the Seattle show due to a raging migraine and schlepped all of our stuff through the airport the next day wearing sunglasses and barfing in trash cans (which, I suppose, is about as rock as it gets). The worst part was that I missed seeing our friends, but you can read about the show (and more about Ethiopian adoption, if you’re interested) on my friend Karin’s blog.

Things soon looked up, though. Our hotel room in SF was awesome, to the point that upon entering I felt it was necessary to grab Tariku and jump on the bed for a few minutes while laughing diabolically. Tariku ran laps around the Yerba Buena Gardens all evening while I tried in vain to convince him to go see the vogueing competition at the neighboring Center for the Arts. He was totally uninterested in the men walking by in glittery drag, preferring the eternally captivating delights of shuffling through dry leaves.

The next day I met up with my SF gal pals, one of whom happens to be the manager of exquisite corset shop Dark Garden. I used my iphone to bribe Tariku into compliance while Andrea fitted me with a gorgeous corset, coming soon to a Halloween celebration near you…

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Jillian Lauren

By: Jillian Lauren

We had a few days off before the Seattle show, so we decided to try to get away from it all and rent a house out on Bainbridge Island.

Here is what I learned:

1. Bainbridge Island is quaint and lovely and has a charming indie bookstore.
2. It is wonderful to sleep with the sound of waves breaking right outside your bedroom window.
3. There is no such thing as “getting away from it all” when you have an eighteen-month-old in tow.

I believe I expressed this sentiment in a less articulate way last night. It went something like the following (imagine this punctuated with desperate sobs): I am NOT going ANYWHERE EVER AGAIN. When we get home, I am staying there FOREVER.

What happened to your circus gal, your Gypsy pal? She was felled by a migraine and a wee lad. All I can say is that he’s small but he’s cunning.

I think the highlight of our island excursion was actually the ferry ride over. Bainbridge Island is about 35 minutes from downtown Seattle by ferry. It was T’s first time on a boat and it was so great to watch him screaming with delight and running headlong into the crazy wind. Here he is posing as the new Adam for the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.

n-between bouts of panic and dread, I did take a moment or two to enjoy the clean sea air, the lush evergreens all around and the views of snow-covered Mt. Ranier from the beach outside our pad.

We also went to visit a little Norweigian-themed town called Poulsbo- kind of the Pacific Northwest’s equivalent to our Solvang. It was cute and touristy and had lots of viking dolls and lingonberry jam. I dubbed it “Little Ikea.” Here is the window of the town pirate store. Every town should have one.

And for those of you who saw the Vanity Fair blog I wrote from Japan, you’ll appreciate that I was somehow hypnotized into buying yet another faux-fur Doctor Zhivago hat. That one was grey and this one is off-white and brown, so they’re apples and oranges, really. Plus, it was made by a local artist and was called a muffette or a muffalette or something, so I had to buy it.

I have no pictures of it, since its purchase preceded a rather unpleasant exchange. Why don’t men understand that an LA girl simply can’t have enough faux-fur cossack hats?

By: Jillian Lauren

Tariku woke me at 6AM and I blearily bundled him off to the back of the bus so he wouldn’t wake anyone else. Unsure of what time it was, but sure it was pretty fucking early, I lifted the shades to smudges of clouds the color of orange creamsicles and the full moon still hanging over a little white farmhouse. Fields of sunflowers turned their expectant faces to the horizon.

That kind of sunrise is God’s gift to farmers and baristas and mothers of wakeful babies.

Later we cruised the Cherry Creek Farmer’s Market in the parking lot across from the hotel. Visiting farmer’s markets is one of my favorite things to do in cities not my own. I met a fellow crafter named Tyler Larsen who makes adorable onesies under the name Baby Lux Designs. She turned me on to Craft Hope, an organization that shares handmade crafts with those less fortunate. Tyler donated a hand crafted sock monkey. The question is, is there anyone out there who would actually want one of my many ambitious-but-often-ugly scarves?

Which leads me to why I craft. And why I shut myself in the back of the bus and just look out the window while the insomniacs in the front of the bus compulsively scan Craig’s List. I love knitting my lopsided baby blankets because it’s a slow process. The Slow Movement is a really interesting website that addresses issues of “time poverty” and supports a “growing global shift toward slowing down.” She says as she blogs.

Unrelated (or maybe not): here is a picture of Tariku on a giant waffle in the Cherry Creek mall. If you think that’s gross, you should have seen the sausages.

Jillian Lauren

By: Jillian Lauren

It’s reached that time of the tour when I no longer know the date, the day of the week, or how many days we’ve been on the road. The tour has become its own little universe and all I know is how many hours are left on the bus before we reach the next stop.

Kansas City was rainy and chaotic, but the friends abounded and the rock was epic and the guys got treated to some impressive booby-flashing while they were on stage, so we can safely say that Kansas City had a little something for everyone.

T had a tour bus reunion with his friend Ezra from the care center in Ethiopia. This will make the third family that we’ve been able to reconnect with in the eight months since we’ve been home. I can’t adequately express how moving it is to see these kids grow and thrive. This little guy was the youngest and the smallest of the babies from our travel group and I carry a vivid memory of his face as we said goodbye to him at the airport. Then, his face was all scared, huge eyes. Now, it’s all chubby cheeks and laughter. I’m proud to say that Weezer was his first rock show. He fell asleep.

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Jillian Lauren

By: Jillian Lauren

Chronicles of the Weezer Tour 2009

We had a couple of unplanned days off in Cleveland and spent one of them at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame with Grandma and Grandpa, who drove in from Toledo. It was more interesting than I expected. I wanted to take every fabulous costume home with me. Tariku was running around and dancing to the music and having a grand ole time, but he was making the security guards a little bit nervous and a few started following us from room to room.

Their vigilance was justified. Tariku turned suddenly, ran under the ropes and made a wild attempt to play John Lennon’s piano. I (with admitted reluctance) pried his little fingers off the ivories while Scott explained to the security guards that we’d leave peacefully and there was no need to 86 us.

Yes, we got kicked out of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. But not before we took this picture with the Weezer W.

I told Tariku we’d be back and they’d be begging him to play that piano.

Just you wait.

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Jillian Lauren

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By: Jillian Lauren

Chronicles of 2009 Weezer Tour

Woke bleary and disoriented on a bus parked in Saratoga Spa State Park. T is teething again and, in spite of my efforts to keep him on rock time, he woke at 7. We took a family walk around the golf course and then had our first experience of getting the baby showered and dressed at the venue. Before I left for tour, I coincidentally read and loved Water for Elephants, which is set in a depression-era circus. I’m a sucker for anything circus, so I romanticize the whole “went to bed in Minneapolis, woke up in PA” aspect of touring. I imagine us a little circus family, and it makes an adventure out of holding the baby aloft under the shower so we don’t have to actually set him down on the shower floor, only to have him rolling around naked in dressing room dust piles five minutes later. So what if he’s a little dust mop. That’s show biz.

We took the trolley into town and cruised around all the preppy shops featuring high-drama hats for attending the races. You have to love that there’s place that women still wear elaborate hats. But can I please say that preppies make crappy paninis?

The big news of the night was that Travis left to attend DJ AM’s funeral, and he won’t fly (can you blame the guy?) so he’s going to be gone for a few days. A few show days. Including Saratoga Springs. True to the circus theme, the guys decided that the show must go on. So Weezer headlined the show and even though they offered people their money back, nearly everyone stayed. Weezer added four songs to their set and they killed it.

The Cleveland and St. Louis shows are canceled, so now we’ve got a few days off in Scott’s home state.

Jillian Lauren

By: Jillian Lauren

The Chronicles of Weezer 2009 Tour Cont.

I love this picture because in Scott’s glasses you can see the reflection on the sky as seen through the bus window. My boys love to sit together and look at the sky.

35,000 fans showed up for yesterday’s show in Columbia, MD. The free Virgin Mobile Festival was held at Frank Gehry’s soaring Merriweather Post Pavilion, though I didn’t get much time to admire the architecture because I was too busy trying to keep Tariku from eating smooshed french fries out of the dirt and playing with used beer cups.

I was looking forward to this tour date, because my cousin Andrew actually organized the whole festival. Andrew is one of my fave relatives, though his wife Maria gives me a complex. She’s an MD who does research into women’s public health policy, while looking and dressing like a supermodel. I have a friend who was attacked in New York and woke up in the emergency room at Bellevue looking at Maria’s face. He told me that he seriously thought he was looking at an angel. Barf. I wish I had a picture to share, but T blew by everyone so fast I barely had time to give my family a hug. He made a mad dash for the barricades and I spent the next three hours chasing him while he romanced teenage girls. He likes to charm the ladies by pointing out airplanes, then he leans in and tries to bite their thighs.

We did catch Richard Branson’s parachuting escapade, which was impressive. We also got to spend some time with my old friends writer Shawna Kenney and guitarist/hubby Rich Dollinger, the self-titled baby roadies for the day. On most days they’re stars in their own right.

We missed the Public Enemy show, but T had his ‘fro tousled by Flavor Flav on Flav’s way off stage. In his short almost-18 months on earth, T has had his ‘fro tousled by Sir Paul McCartney, Brian Wilson, Flavor Flav, Jeff Lynne, the Blink guys and all the members of the Weez, of course. That’s a lot of icons to have up in your hair.

My photographs are suffering terribly as a result of my mom duties. My iphone is all I can handle most of the time. At my friend Danica’s suggestion, I got this toy camera application, which puts random filters on pictures. Cute, right?

By: Jillian Lauren

I’m inspired by Margaret Atwood’s attempts to stay environmentally conscious during the book tour for her new book The Year of the Flood. I’m following her blog about her efforts and hope to mirror them to some extent.

I left a comment on her blog, attempting to turn her on to Mt. Hagen instant organic coffee. It’s a road necessity. We’re obsessed with it. We even started drinking it at home. I’m expecting an email from her any day…

Dear Jillian,

Thanks so much for your coffee suggestion. You are clearly a brilliant and fascinating individual. Perhaps you’d like to join me for a cup when I pass through in Los Angeles, during which time we can trade all kinds of environmentally friendly touring tips.

Your new best friend,
M.

In preparation for my imminent meeting with the great Ms. Atwood, I’m on a crusade to get everyone around here drinking out of aluminum water bottles. Scott and I drink tap water rather than waste a billion little plastic bottles every night. Yes, tap water. The baby drinks it, too. And we bring our own shopping totes. They have the cutest little Weezer totes this tour. I swiped one for myself last night.

By: Jillian Lauren

chronicles of 2009 Weezer Tour Cont.

Toronto is all shiny silver beams and wide blue sky. It feels modern and wind-blown and clean. And I knew that it’s supposed to be so international and all that, but I was still surprised when nearly every single person with whom we came into contact had a different foreign accent. We met some lovely Jamaican vegans at an outdoor market and they fed us the best curried hummus I ever ate. We also met people from Australia, Russia, Romania, England, Thailand and Kenya.

Another Canadian curiosity (and I say this as a rabid devotee of Paris): super-friendly people with French accents. Brian lost his phone on the plane and they RETURNED it, to our HOTEL. Merci, indeed.

We were in Toronto for a few days, so Scott and T-Bone and I got to do some sightseeing. We wandered the harbourfront and caught a couple of songs by a world-beat kind of band. T danced a little bit, but really, all he wanted to do was watch the airplanes take off over the water. His is a world of airplanes. It doesn’t matter where we are or what we’re doing.

Q: Tariku, do you see that boat?
A: AIRPLANE!!! (insert airplane noise and point at the sky)
Q: Tariku, do you see that horsie?
A: AIRPLANE!!! (you know what to do)

By the time we showed up at the CN tower, the line was an hour long. So Scott and T ate hotdogs, then Scott left for rehearsal and T and I cruised Queen Street by ourselves for a couple of hours. In between the hand-painted clothing boutique and the record shop, we met the friendliest nun, wearing the whole old-school penguin habit. That’s like saying I went down to Melrose and met a nun. Anyway, I was glad that T seems to like just walking around and people watching as much as I do. T is outrageously popular with the ladies, nuns and all. For a small fee, I’m willing to loan him out for walks to any single male friends who are looking for a date.

Then we got in the van and went to the show. Ah, the rock show. T has been to them before and loved them, so I wasn’t anticipating any trouble. I anticipated wrong. He was fine for the first hour or so. All the Blink guys have their kids along, so there’s a big play room set up at the venues. I met Mark’s smoking hot wife and their son and then…

(a side note – I think I’m going to have to bust out some serious shoes if I’m going to keep up with these ladies)

.. and then T was playing with the other kids and having a good ol’ time, when suddenly things went south. Way south. Like three hours of uninterrupted hysterics kind of south.

I did everything. I walked him around the parking lot. I brought him to listen to the music. I took him away from the music. I tried to feed him. I tried to give him milk. I gave him homeopathics. I busted out the big Orajel and Motrin guns. I sang to him. Concerned security guards were bringing us stuffed Toronto Bluejays bears and glow-in-the-dark yo-yos. I abandoned ship and took him back to the hotel. Still he screamed like someone was ripping his toenails out.

We still don’t know if it was his teeth or if, in fact, his toenail was getting ripped out. He has one toenail that’s falling off after a particularly nasty stub, and it might have gotten wedged wrong in his sandal. That’s my best guess. Though I would have thought he would have least been pointing at his toe, if that was the case. He finally exhausted himself and went to sleep. I was traumatized. Though he woke up just fine and very excited to go to the airport and see the AIRPLANES.

I hear the show went great. I have a tradition of taking a picture of the outside of every venue we’re at, so at least I got this one picture.

Jillian Lauren

By: Jillian Lauren

the chronicles of the 2009 Weezer Tour

We’re officially in motion. Off to Toronto, the first stop of the Weezer tour.

This time the pre-tour chaos was worse than usual, as we were plagued by computer poltergeists and sharp new baby teeth. When traveling, I’ve always loved the moment that the plane leaves the ground and anything I left behind is gone and forgotten. Because I hate packing. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. I hate packing with a baby even more. But I love to travel. And I love to go on tour. So pack I do, and often.

Tariku is crazy about airports and airplanes, so the only real challenge was the boredom in between take-off and landing. Some of it was spent just gazing out the window. I wonder what Tariku thinks when he looks out at the clouds from above. He kept saying “sky” and “blue” and “airplane,” so he understood that we were up in the air, but was it more magical to him than the wonders of staring at the ceiling fan? Is everything equally magical when the world is so new?

I have no idea what the road will have in store for us with Tariku along. Tour has always been such a fun and selfish time for me, with no obligations other than showing up at lobby call and putting on a pair of nice shoes for the show every once in a while. I could hole up in the back of the bus and write whenever I wanted. I could just wander the streets of foreign cities and get a latte while everyone else worked their tails off. Now, I’m on the job, too. Raising a future rock star is a big responsibility.

Here he is with Animal, his favorite buddy. I tell him that it was given to Scott by the actual Animal, which is the truth. Scott got the doll on the set of the “Keep Fishin’” video, in which the guys co-starred with the Muppets. How awesome is that?

Jillian Lauren