Skip to main content

Milo Greene & Silver Lining

Tuesday night concerts are tough for me. They're cheap (or free!) but they're mid-week, and I want to be at home and in bed before midnight, because that's how I roll. I'm so grown-up.

We drank wine and ate guacamole and talked about boys and Europe and art and adorable cats named Sawyer. I felt pleased to introduce my friends to my other friends. Second time this summer I've had a concert quartet of just-introduced ladies.

Over at the Horseshoe, ID check was perfunctory.

"Do you have your cards?" We fish them out and he doesn't even look at them.

"That's the kind of carding I like!" says one friend.

The crowd is not too big and we make our way to the edge. A band called Silver Lining plays. I'm digging the accordion and think, This sounds like an east-coast house party. They later say they're from Newfoundland, and everything about them makes more sense.

The band we came to see is Milo Greene. They opened for The Civil Wars in the fall, and their harmonies were beautiful, their melodies catching, their lyrics resonated. Same story this time around.

We laugh and whisper-yell in each others' ears and dance and watch the banjo player and wonder which of the boys in the band has a crush on the solitary female.

After, we linger to chat outside before finally parting ways. I'm happy to be headed home to sleep, and I'm grateful for nights like this.


kat said…
this made me smile! a lovely night indeed.

Popular posts from this blog

Fostering FAQ: How Can You Say Goodbye?

It seems I finally have something(s) to say... Here's the first in a short (or maybe long?) series on Fostering FAQs. If you've got a question to add, feel free to comment/email/text/message me and maybe the next post will be in response.


8:30 am on Day 4 of parenting. I woke up in a panic two hours ago because I remembered that there is a baby and I am responsible for her (at least at 6:30am, when the man beside me will snore through anything). Now, I have put on clothes and eaten breakfast. The dogs are walked, there is a loaf of banana bread in the oven. My tea is steeping. Most importantly, Dream Baby is already down for her first nap.

Despite my morning efficiency, I'm already beginning to see that even with the happiest, most easygoing, and smiliest baby, like we somehow managed to be given, parenting is a grind. On Friday night, I couldn't join friends for $5 pints at a local joint. Instead, I blearily washed the same 8 bottles again, and then made another ba…

Fostering FAQ: How Long Will She Stay/Will You Adopt Her?

Our first foster baby came with about 18 hours notice; it was respite care, which means we had him for a few days while his regular foster family had a break/dealt with a family emergency. He stayed 3 nights, long enough to come to church and have a dozen people cooing over his little sleeping cheeks.  With each new visitor to our quiet corner, I explained again that he would be going back to his foster family the next day.

Barely a week later, we got a 9am phone call with a fostering request and by the same afternoon, we were snuggling her. This time, we had her for 4 days before church came around. Again, our community was keen to see the little one we had in tow. Again, the question, "How long will she stay?" And this time, "Are you going to adopt her?"


Here in Toronto, when a child is placed in foster care, it is always for an indefinite length of time. It depends on the parents' situation, and whether they are able to make a safe home environment for th…

Fostering FAQ: What's Her (Mom's) Story?

This is probably the second most common question I hear about the baby currently in our care, right after, "Will you keep her?"

It comes in many forms:

"So, what's her story?"
"Is her mom in the picture?"
"How did she end up in your home?
"Is her mom a drug addict?"
"How could a mom not love such a cute baby!"

I get it. It's natural curiousity, and I know I've asked similar questions of my friends who are adoptive parents.

But here's what I'm learning: a child's story is their own. And equally as important, the parent's story is their own.

Imagine how it might feel to hear that for the foreseeable future, you are not allowed to care for your child. On top of whatever difficult circumstances you are already in - perhaps poverty, social isolation, lack of adequate housing, domestic violence, intergenerational trauma, drug or alcohol dependency, low cognitive functioning, or a myriad of other complex strug…