The Feminists: Rubens a la Zobac

Our show in Cambridge was canceled due to circumstances beyond someone’s control. Now we have today and tomorrow off before our next show in Toronto. We made another visit back to the friendly librarians at the Oshawa Public Library to check email, pay some bills (I hate it when real life interferes with my rock and roll experience) and send out some more cds to some more clubs. After all of that it was only 3 pm, so we piled back into the van to re-visit Lakeview Park and get in some more lolling about under trees.
You want to look out for Zobac when he’s understimulated and feeling at loose ends. He has an intense rebellious, defiant streak that shows itself under these circumstances. So today he announced that he intended to have Ruben sandwiches for dinner and he was off to the concession stand to steal a goodly amount of saurkraut for the facilitation of said rubens. Sure enough, he returned some time later with his trophy safely sealed in a sizeable ziploc container. I didn’t ask whether he had actually confronted the kid behind the counter. “Stealing food is very rock and roll”, he explained to me. “But it’s not very rock and roll to make ruben sandwiches for dinner”. Our indie street cred may suffer as a result of our burgeoning culinary imaginitivness, but we sure have been having some tasty dinners.

The Feminists Indie Rock Cookbook
Rubens a la Zobac
First, in a stealth-like fashion liberate at least 2 cups of saurkraut from an unsuspecting park concession stand employee. If eye contact is made, bare teeth and growl menacingly.
Light Coleman stove, slather pieces of rye bread with Djon mustard, corned beef, and Swiss cheese. Add stolen saurkraut to taste. When greased skillet is hot, place sandwiches therein, flip when bread is brown and crunchy and cheese is melted. Remove from heat. With a cry of triumph, raise sandwich high into the night sky for consecration by the approving gods of rock.

Just as we were finishing the dishes after our rubenesque feast, the wind started to pick up. We quickly battened down the hatches and clambered into the van. Tonight’s feature was “Pirates of the Caribbean”. “I just want to see some cutlasses and the clash of steel on steel,” Belland explained.
The rising wind was soon accompanied by thunder and lighting and lots of rain, blowing in horizontal sheets with a smack against the windows. It was a little weird to be practically out in the elements for such a storm, protected only by a thin sheet of metal.
I was kept awake by the thunder, rain, and lightning. I realized I haven’t watched a night storm since I was about 7 years old, scared and small, hiding under quilts. Plenty of time time for reflection when one is watching a night storm. Unfortunately due to lack of sleep I had no deep thoughts to think and could only watch and listen to the endless tapestry of water, wind, and flashes of light.
We awoke the next morning to a world scrubbed clean. The wind was still blowing, and clouds were skittering across a sunny sky. Didn’t improve our collective mood at all which was irritable, exhausted, damp, and dirty.