She & Him

It was another big day for Olive yesterday.  Ben came and picked us up in the early afternoon to go to Philadelphia for a She & Him show (for those unaware, She & Him is comprised of actress Zooey Deschanel and Matt Ward, or M. Ward, as he's more commonly known).  We stopped by the coffee shop in Baltimore where Ben works to check out his photographs on display there (very nice, by the way), then headed east.  

Once we got there, the parking situation was atrocious, it being a Friday evening in the Old City district, on 4th of July weekend, no less.  The spaces we could find were good for only 2-3 hours, which wasn't good enough for what we needed.  Ben's local friend, Alli, was navigating us over the phone, and we settled on a 3-hour parking space from which we'd have to move later.  Ben wedged us in the tight space that Alli had held for us, bumping up against the Subaru behind us, and called it good.  We walked to a restaurant to grab a bite for dinner.  I wish I'd caught the name, because it was unusual and good, even though I wasn't bowled over by the bar-like atmosphere (though those places do provide a good sound buffer when Olive inevitably decides to act like a baby).  We got a bag of popcorn (my fave) as an appetizer, Alli had the octopus salad, Ben the grilled chicken sandwich with lavender mayonnaise, and I had the grilled tempeh club with basil aioli.  Good choice.  

We started out for the Grand Plaza, the outdoor concrete venue on the waterfront, and met up with Alli's boyfriend, Eric, on the way.  We didn't wind up with the best view of the stage, but the sound was still excellent.  The show was well worth the $26, 2 1/2 hour drive, and $25 parking lot fee (after dinner we'd sucked it up and parked the car in a lot to avoid a $25 parking ticket).  Ben, holding Olive, fielded questions about her like a pro from other concert-goers, who clearly mistook him for her father.  Of course we found this amusing, but, unless he's wearing a rainbow flag t-shirt and talking fashion with his hand held mid-air, it's easy assume that a guy is a baby's father if he's toting a diaper bag or the baby.  

The drive home was rough on Ben, as Olive and I conked out, leaving him to shovel down my mom's chocolate-covered almonds for fuel and entertainment.  The Philly commute is much easier coming than going; I can relate: after a Decemberists concert years back, I blasted one of their boppiest tunes on repeat until I hit Baltimore, at which point I felt I was home enough to give it a rest.

We pulled into the driveway at ten till 2.  Typical Friday night for Olive.