Sorry about that last post. I wasn't really trying to be dramatic or anything, I just couldn't find words to say anything else. One of my former co-workers had a car wreck last Saturday night, and he was missing until his body was found (still in the car) Monday by another co-worker. He had gone off the road after hitting a puddle in rain and fog on his way home. Not certain exactly how old he was, but not more than 25. The whole thing is awful in so many ways and I haven't really found the energy to post since. I've been here several times, teed up and ready, but nothing would come. No insights or ruminations or remembrances- nothing. Just profound sadness and an odd feeling of disconnection from my friends. So yeah. I guess I'm back.

My parents were here for the week, and we did loads of fun touristy things. I took them to the Shelburne Museum, Neb and Jerry's, the cider mill, and several restaurants. We went to Montreal on Monday, which was very beautiful but the weather wasn't great (neither, apparently, is my father's ability to read a map or my mother's ability to operate a GPS) so we spent a lot of time in the car. There is a huge outdoor market where we got crepes and pastries (I had one made with dates that nearly brought tears to my eyes), and walked around feeling quite foreign. I knew that Montreal was largely French-speaking, but never having been anywhere out of the country (except for a ghastly two hours in Tijuana that I wish never to repeat) so I've never been in the lingual minority before. My podcast language lessons have lapsed, to put it mildly, so the only words I was able to understand were please, thank you, and most of the food words. I'm not sure how comfortable I would feel spending a long period of time this way, but for one day it was really cool. I'll post some pictures in a bit.
My parents departed for the Cape on Friday morning, and I have basically been either at work or asleep since. I'm off this evening, though, and hoping to spend some quality time with the b.h.

So Jamie and the s.o. arrived while I was at work on Sunday. They came down to the bar with the b.h. and ate while I worked. It was great to see them,and my night went by very quickly.
On Monday, we went downtown and got a pastry and a cup of coffee, and set off on foot to see a bit of local color.
We went to the capitol building to get a quick pic of Howard Dean's portrait, and somebody walked right into the picture. Then a lot of other people followed, most of them wearing several pounds of medals on their chests. I guess this is what we mean when we use the phrase "top brass." It was a bit intimidating, honestly. I turned around to discover that the b.h. had wandered to the other side of the very large entrance hall, inspecting some more traditional portraits. Within moments, he was lost in a sea of very imposing and important-looking people. Eventually the parade ended, and a guide began describing some of the features of said hall to the guests. I kept seeing the b.h.'s head pop up over large shoulders of serious men, looking helplessly at us while we giggled and wondered what all the fuss was about. When he finally got back to us, he said he's forgotten that the President of Macedonia was visiting.
"I was totally being followed by the Secret Service," he grinned. It was a bit unnerving, but mostly hilarious. We could not have looked more innocuous, the four of us with fair-trade coffee and cameras, but it's nice to know that those guys take their jobs seriously.
We drove in to Burlington, walked on the lakefront, and got lunch at a great little Asian restaurant that I believe was called A Single Pebble. I'll try to remember to post pictures later, but right now I am on the couch surrounded by dog love and loathe to get up. After lunch we drove to Burywater, stopped by the casa del Jerry and Ben, took more photos, swung over to the Cider mill, ate doughnuts (fresh, hot, CIDER doughnuts- yum!) and then shot pool and ate dinner at The Alchemist. Man, I LOVE that place. We came back to the house and watched a couple episodes of Eastbound and Down, which they had never seen and we happened to have gotten from Netflix that morning, and then hit the hay early. We got up early on Tuesday, went up to Barre to thrift shop (I scored two pairs of $5 corduroys and a $3 J Crew sweater-woot!) and had lunch at the co-op up there. We also visited the Maple farm just outside of town and fed the magic goat. I had to work at four, but Jamie and the s.so and the b.h. came in for a late drink and a light snack, so again my night was lovely and smooth.
They left early on Wednesday, and I napped and then got up to do some laundry and wash some dishes. Tonight I waited tables in the main dining room for the second time. It went relatively smoothly and I made good money and got home about an hour earlier than I normally do as a bartender. The b.h. is feeling ill, which is a huge bummer because my folks will be here tomorrow and for the next week. We are planning a trip to Montreal on Sunday, and I hope the b.h. doesn't miss out.

AthFest Roundup.

Holy Crap am I exhausted. Thursday night I was off. The b.h. and I went over to Jenn's for dinner. Some friends from Rotterdam are in town and they're staying at Chez Pointy Pointy. Matt made a lovely lasagna and we all ate 'til it hurt.

The thing about Chris and Corine is that they seem like such kindred spirits. I first met them about six or seven years ago on the porch at Tasty World during AthFest. It was totally random, of course. My friend Jason and I were bartending, and while we were between shifts we both went outside and there they were. We struck up a conversation and lost track of time, and then Chris and Corine left to see the Truckers and I din't see them again.
Not until 2005, at least. The b.h. and I drove to Denton Texas to see the final Slobberbone shows. We were traveling with our friend P, who would break off in Texas and head to S0uth by S0uthwest when we returned to Athens. The b.h. is in P's band, and P plays in multiple other bands as well (welcome to Athens, where everybody's a musical whore). So we drove to Texas and we went to the show, and as I was standing in Dan's Silverleaf, I turned and saw Corine. I knew immediately that it was her. I did that thing, where people sputter a bit and point and go "I know that I know you, but- here? Where? Why? What the-?" I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Lots of people travel for music the way the b.h. and I do. It was a fun reunion, but it was short-lived.
Then last year we went to St. Loius for TwangF3st. Standing in the Schlafly Taproom, chatting with the Centro-matic, I once again turned and saw Chris and Corine. Turns out they also knew Jamie, as well as our buddy T1m Easton, and a host of other like-minded folks that all made the pilgrimage. We wound up at a very strange late night party, and I encouraged them to come to AthFest this year. We exchanged e-mail addresses and went on our way.
Flash forward to Tuesday afternoon. My phone rings and it's Jenn, and she's sitting at Cutters Pub with Corine and Chris. I had no idea that they were coming, but I was thrilled. Apparently they lost our e-mail addresses somewhere along the way, so they never got in touch. Ah well, at least they made it.
So Thursday night was great, because we finally got to hang out in a non rock show environment. Real conversations, good stories, etc. Then we did go to a show. The show was a blast. Nick Bielli and Carlton Owens proved themselves the rock Gods that they are (and then Nick rushed back to work), and we talked to strangers and had a few beers and generally had a good time. When I went back to the bar to pick up the b.h., somebody broke a main water pipe in the back hallway at the bar and water started pouring out all over the floor. We shut the water off, called the plumber, and arranged for him to come out the next morning.
Friday morning I got a call way too early from a lady whose water had also been shut off in the process of our late-night problem solving. Having had a whole four hours sleep, I leapt out of bed, washed my face and tried to flatten out my hair and we both ran out the door.
When we got to the bar there was a lot of calling around for a plumber (we couldn't wake ours), and a lot of plumber's tape. We wrapped the pipe as best we could and turned the water on so as not to inconvenience that other woman any further. Luckily the pipe was leaking onto a drain in the floor, so it wasn't terribly messy. Once the plumber and S got there, the b.h. and I went to meet Corine and Chris for lunch. We ate at The National, and then the b.h. and I had running around to do so we took off. The b.h. played a show on Friday night while I slaved away at the bar. It was a pretty good night. Good music and so busy that it went very quickly. It all ended with a lot of people on the bar at 2:15 am. I'll try to post the pictures later.
Saturday we had to b00tleg some beer due to a misunderestimation (thank you, Mr. President) of exactly how much people like to drink. The b.h. and I went to the store, where our friend was kind enough to loan us his truck to deliver it so we wouldn't have to try to cram 17 cases of beer into our T0y0ta.
After that we went to Jenn's and ate- once again, fucking fantastic. I may die from banana pudding one day, but at least I'll die happy. We went straight to the 40 Watt from there. I stopped out at the main stage to see Modern Skirts. They were fantastic, as usual, but the sound on the side of the stage was shitty and I would have had to walk back three blocks to stand in the front. It was that crowded.
So we hid in the air-conditioned confines of the Watt, catching up with the Centro-matic guys and marveling at the back stage graffiti. I have often threatened to make a coffee table book of backstage areas in small clubs, because they are all hilariously similar in their utter juvenilility. (Yes, it is a word. I just made it up.)Again, pics to follow. Can't upload them on this here laptop.
Centro-matic was, as always, amazing. The new songs are glorious, even more so when I heard them again today on our new vinyl copy of the record. Those guys should really be huge by now. I'm happy for my own sake that they're not, of course, but it would be nice if they could get paid.
While we were backstage, Will asked the b.h. if he had gotten a message he had left two days before. Is the offer still open for us to crash with you guys tonight? But of course, we said. We hadn't gotten the message, but it would be no problem.
No problem except for the fact that the dishes hadn't been done in five days, nor had the laundry, nor had our carpet seen a vacuum this week. So after they finished their set, I ran out of the Watt, over to my car, and sped back to the house to tidy up. The result of my thirty minute whirlwind calls to mind a saying about laws and sausages- that you don't want to see how they get made. I emptied and filled the dishwasher, shoving the remaining items which were too big into a cooler, on which I stacked some things so nobody would open it. Laundry was crammed into baskets and run up the stairs. Sheets from the guest bed were freshened with a dryer sheet and some lavender essential oil, ditto the couch cover. The dogs were staring at me like I was insane (they were right), and barely able to keep out of my way as I ran the vacuum cleaner and dusted at the same time.
The thing is I doubt the guys would have noticed or cared what our house looked like, but I couldn't bear for them to see it like that.
I got back downtown in time to see some of The Empties and some of Idiot Slowdown at Tasty World. The crowd for Idiot Slowdown was so horrifying that I lasted only a few songs. Swooning dumbshit girls and big, oafy guys, all flailing about dangerously and drunkenly. The band sounded great but there were only about eleven brain cells in the whole room, and I couldn't stay. The Empties did a cover of The Glands. Can't recall the song at the moment, but it was cool.
Next I went down to the Georgia Theater to see Don Chambers and GOAT. Girls were swooning there as well, but they weren't encroaching on my personal space while they did it, so I didn't mind. The band sounded fucking great. Best band in Athens, if you ask me. There was a small group of girls standing directly in front of Pistol, totally mesmerized. Will and I were cracking up. I took some pictures.
After that I went with Corine, Chris, and Centro-matic back down to the Watt so the guys could unload. As we were piling into the van, Pistol walked up.
"Did you lose your blonde?" I asked.
"Shhh," he replied, his eyes growing wide.
"Is she behind you?'
He nodded. Actually, she was behind me, but drunk enough that she had no idea what I had said.
We got back here and everybody pretty much fell out. The guys had to be on the road by 7:15, so I barely even heard them this morning. All in all a successful weekend. I'm just glad I get to recover tonight.

Business.

As in J. Roddy Walston and the. They fucking rocked again. I only wish they had more CDs for us to buy. Everything was running late that night, so they didn't play as long as we would have liked, but they tore through most of the songs I know and were completely pro and cool about the scheduling fuckups. They also crashed with the b.h. and me that night. It was great to be able to talk a little in a non-show setting. All of the guys are funny and smart and generally seem like folks we would hang out with if we lived in the same place.

The beagles have escaped several times. The first time I hadn't shut the door all the way when I came back in from walking them, and Wyatt charged through it while I was in another room, so by the time I even realized the door was open the girls were long gone. Hope (who we have re-named Hamhock, because it amuses us) was only several yards from the door, snuffling through the tall grass next to the house. Ella (Sniglet) on the other hand, was already too far into the thicket on the other side of the driveway for us to even see her. I might add that it was the middle of the night and both the b.h. and I had already showered and were ready for bed. We wound up spending about fifteen minutes locating her and trying to coax her out, and eventually I tackled her when she got out into the parking lot in the office complex out back.
The next time they escaped was the night the band was here. This time I was actually in the shower. I stepped out and heard a loud baying coming from out in the yard. The next thing I heard was the b.h.'s voice through the bathroom window- "Honey, I need your help. The beagles got out." His voice was nearly drowned out by the sound of the dogs in the distance. It was about four a.m., and one of the band guys had gone out for a cigarette, and the girls slipped through the door and took off. I immediately threw on a t-shirt, jeans, and shoes, and ran out into the dark yard, figuring that the b.h. would have the flashlight on him. I was blindly making my way back toward the woods, and I could hear the b.h. cursing loudly above the sound of the dogs and a lot of crunching. It seems that the woods are now overgrown with briars - big, nasty, sharp ones - and although this posed no problem for the dogs the b.h. was getting torn to bits. He also didn't have the flashlight, but was using our cell phone to light his way. I was plodding along behind him, simulating a blind and drunk game of Marco, Polo. It wasn't pretty. It wasn't funny at the time, either, though now I'm cracking up at the thought.
Hamhock got out again the day before yesterday. I was out running errands and the b.h. had the girls ties up outside. He was in the kitchen with the door open so he could keep an eye on them. We still don't know how she did it, because when he found her wading in the shallow end of the pond, her collar was completely intact, as was the leash she had magically left tied to the garden post. It was a panicky half hour, but everybody came out okay.
Our friend has been moved to a jail downstate, so we haven't been able to see him. Our local county jail has become over crowded after three consecutive home football games, so they had to move some people off, and since he isn't getting out for another couple of weeks, they chose him. This is all very inconvenient, because we have no way of contacting him, and he can't call us collect unless we start ANOTHER account with this other jail. We already have money in an account with the local jail, and it doesn't transfer, so we have to go through the process again, and we have no idea when they will send him back, so it may be completely pointless. They won't tell him when he's moving, and they didn't give him any warning before he left, so he couldn't call and let us know. I do hope he's doing okay. The worst part of this is imagining what it must be like for people who don't have any money or any transportation. What does a poor mother do when they transfer her son to another county three hundred miles away? This is a big enough obstacle for people like us, and we can afford it. I realize that most people are in jail because they have done something wrong, but I don't see why inmates' families and friends get treated like criminals themselves (guilt by association anyone?) and inconvenienced to this degree. Ah well, I guess I'll just try to stay out of jail so I don't have to worry about it.
The iPod is a Godsend. We have almost five thousand songs loaded up already. So many things I haven't heard in ages, now brought back to life in a convenient new package. This will also help us get rid of about ten boxes of CDs that we no longer have any use for. Yay! One step closer to organization.
I discovered a podcast called Grammar Girl's Quick and Dirty Tips. I adore it, though it regularly reminds me that I know almost nothing about the rules of grammar. (Not really, but it does make me feel a bit ignorant).
This week was musically fabulous. Got to see The Dumps and Baroness upstairs at Tasty World on Thursday, as well as Peelander Z and two other Japanese bands on Friday night. What fun. Still can't wait for Okkervil River at the 40 Watt on October 3rd, and The Hold Steady on the 25th. Yes, Rocktober is going to live up to its name this year, I believe. It's a beautiful thing.
On the reading front, I finished the J.D. Salinger biography, which made me go back and re-visit Raise High the Roof Beam, Carpenters and Seymour: An Introduction. He really is a weird guy. But I dig his stories. I have just started The Idiot's Guide to the Middle East conflict. I bought it a couple years ago and haven't gotten around to it. It was written before the U.S. invasion of Iraq, but what I really want to understand is the history of why everything is so screwed up over there, so I don't mind. I have also torn through about fifteen back issues of The New Yorker that my boss passed on to me, as well as a few copies of The Believer, Esquire, and Vanity Fair. Not a whole lot of book reading, though. Too busy. I did see a new Terry Pratchett on my way through the book store the other day. Guess I'd better go put that on my wish list before I forget.
Man, this is a long post. I'm going to read somebody else's blog and quit blathering now.

Peaceful.

The girls have settled in nicely. They are very well-mannered and quite the little snugglers. The boys are still not exactly happy, but they seem to be getting used to having guests.
Last night we saw Southern Bitch and Centro-Matic at the bowling alley. It was a fabulous show. It is always difficult for me to go out on a Sunday, but I'm glad I did. Watching them play always makes me want to write.
We went over to A's house beforehand for dinner. He made Philly Cheese Steak sandwiches (mine was cheese fake- made with portabella mushrooms instead)and homemade banana pudding ice cream. It was unbelievable.
Today I slept for most of the day, or dozed on the couch under the dogs watching TV. Dexter just came out on DVD. It's about a serial killer that hunts serial killers. So far I love it.
I guess this is going to be a short and rather boring post. Sorry for that. I just haven't done much today.

S-A-T-U-R- D-A-Y NIGHT!

Apologies in advance for the lack of links on this post. The "New Blogger" doesn't seem to want to cooperate with me today. Fuckers.

So the b.h. played a show on Saturday evening, along with his band, some friends from Tennessee, and a fantastic band from Ohio whose name I cannot recall to save my life right now. (Sorry, guys).
After bartending for a room full of our friends for four hours, I was relieved by the night shift and we all made our way over to the Caledonia Lounge to see three more fantastic bands. Mother Jackson sounded better than they ever have, in my humble opinion; Still Small Voice was great, as usual, though I am not sure that the setting suits them as well as Tasty World; and Southern Bitch brought the house down for their CD release show. Wendy looks fantastic, having recovered (we hope) fully from her emergency surgery. She was stomping around stage in a pair of very tall, very glittery, gold high heels, that I could neither pull of nor stand on for more than a split second under the best of circumstances. It was really impressive. They all played as well as I have ever seen them.
At night's end I wound up piloting the van for our out of town friends, who at that point had been drinking for a full fourteen hours. I was immediately reminded how lucky I am to have learned to drive in a 1977 Ford LTD. The guys were sprawled out in the back and the b.h., who is not a driver, was in the passenger's seat. We left our car downtown (no tickets on the Lord's Day), and headed home. Mostly when I am around a group of very loud, very drunk people, I am immediately irritated and whenever possible i run in another direction. This particular group of guys has the distinction of being both very tolerable and highly amusing, however, and I can't remember the last time I laughed as hard as I did on that ride.

Overheard in the van:
"That monkey bit my uncle Johnny on the head you know."
"Yeah, he was a mean summbitch. They wound up pumpin 'im with a thirty ought six after he got that mailman."
"He threw that mailman twenty feet they said. Put 'im in the hospital."

Not sure how that coversation started, but the b.h. and I spent some time in bed later trying to decide if the monkey was real, or if it was a private joke that they had launched into. As it turned out, the monkey was real, and he was a chimp, and the chimp lived in a neighborhood called - wait for it - Frog @lley. Back in the seventies. I don't know. But it was funny.

Then we pulled into the grocery store parking lot to grab some frozen pizzas. The van's lights went straight into a car that was parked with what appeared to be three teenaged guys sleeping in it. The b.h. and I left the van running and the band inside while we ran for the food. When we came out, the formerly sleeping guys were gone, and from the van all you could hear, across the whole parking lot, was loud Irish rock music (we think it was Flogging Molly) and raucous laughter. The ride ended with Johnny Paycheck's Colorado Kool Aid, and if you haven't heard that song you should really go find it. I laughed so hard I almost wrecked the van.
Yesterday was a mix of errand running and loafing around. It was really cold and really windy, but I have heard that it should be seventy degrees by Thursday. I hope that's the end of the cold, because we are just about out of firewood, and I hate to pay five bucks a bundle for it at the grocery store.