Ahhh, Monday. You cruel thing.

Hello to computing, hello to engineering. Goodbye to playing in the park and Back to the Future Marathons. Heartbreaking, ain’t it?

Ahhh, Internets, so much to write, so little time to do it.

Like how transcendence was achieved again Friday night at the Honfleur Gallery in the Anacostia Neighborhood in DC as the Bellevederes played a much better set than our previous outing. We were there for a gallery opening of some pretty gay photography. I am not being dismissive here. They were photos of young gay hipsters in odd poses, like bobbing for apples in whitie-tighties. The upside of this – gays like music that is fun to dance to. Again, not being dismissive, that just seemed to be my experience Friday night. I need more gay friends.

And like, since the Brucester was alone for about 10 hours on Friday, I vowed to make it up to him for the remainder of the weekend. I also vowed that this Saturday began my quest for fitness by September 20th – the day we leave for Mexico. This means running five times a week. No Bullshit. That is the only thing that works for me; hard-core, dedicated running. So on Saturday, I took Bruce to the shady, soft rail-trail at Robert E. Lee Park, and ran to the reservoir and back, with stops at the creek for some swimming, splashing and fetching to keep the dog cool, happy, and tired. It is a perfect trail for the dog and for me – I can take him off-leash, it is shady, soft railbed is perfect for my knees, and he has multiple locations he can jump in the Jones Falls and cool off.

Yesterday, though, Bruce was like to die and go to dog heaven, as we took him up to Loch Raven Reservoir to run the stretch of roadway the county closes every Sunday to vehicular traffic. We ran a bit, and as soon as he saw the lake to his right, he detoured down and charged right in. We threw sticks out for fetching for a while and then continued our run. Further along, we saw a large flock of geese along a stretch of beach and on a little island about a hundred yards off shore. After asking the folks near that area if they would be upset if the dog scared off the birds (please do, was their answer), I gave Bruce the word and let him go to town.

It was amazing. I wish I had a camera. Instinct took over and he splashed around for a while – he was actually “tolling”! Then he charged out toward the island, swimming right into the flock, chasing them around. All I could think was we had already been running for an hour, and he had to be exhausted, and the last thing I wanted to do was wade out into goose poop-infested waters in my tennis shoes if he got too tired to swim back. He was way offshore and loving every minute of it and was not about to be too tired to continue! But being his true obedient self, as soon as we started calling him he turned around and started swimming back to us. I have never seen a happier dog. His tail would not stop wagging. He does smell a bit like a sea urchin now, though.

I told Ryan that I am taking the dog there every Sunday from now on. Or at least until football season begins. Next time I will take a camera.

My Life in Various Meats, Volume 2: The Stick Chronicles

Just to get it out front here: Yes, I tore the hell out of my knee Saturday. Yes, it hurts like a beeotch. Yes, I required some medical attention to stop the bleeding. No, I was not drinking. Yet. No, I was not wearing high heels. Yet. No, it was not during the set, it was immediately prior; which resulted in a lovely bandaged, bleeding-through knee during our rough, non-transcendental, awkward in the sunlight set. It is best if you were not there.

Maybe my aching, swollen, infected, skin-free kneecap is contributing to my sour mood. Maybe I am aching for some chicken on a stick. But I digress, as this is Volume 2 of my meat-laden weekend adventures, not a continuation of today’s previous bitchfest.

Do you know how it is always 9000 degrees for Artscape, and you complain ‘why can’t it be cooler’? Well, guess what happens when the weather is cooler? Nine million more people come out. It was fun, as always, but the gorgeous weather combined with no overlapping headliners to divert crowds to various stages -- internet, it was PACKED. Like, I could not even hear Cake from where I was sitting packed. Not that I needed to hear Cake anyway. So after some wandering around, following up my breakfast bacon with lunchtime chicken on a stick (food of the gods, I say), we hopped into Ace’s Jaguar and headed over to Jackie’s house for a more civilized time.

Yes, I said Jaguar and yes, people looked at us as we pulled into the Wine Source in Hampden like we were gangsters. It was AWESOME. The highlight of my weekend was coming out of the store, seeing Lesley lounging in the back seat of the Jag chatting on her cell phone as though she was casually arranging a hit.

Jackie has such a lovely back garden with real vintage wicker furniture, and truly is the hostess with the mostest. Suddenly, there was jazz trickling over from a neighboring yard, people started showing up with various items to grill, and wine and brie was set out. We ended up with a veritable feast of grilled pork, vegetables, wonderful white wine, and pleasant conversation. It was a relaxing and surprising end to what I had assumed would be a rollicking day.

I guess you really cannot plan truly fun times. The spontaneity is part of the joy. Also, James passed out on Izzy’s dog bed. That was pretty joyous too.

Artscape is coming, hon!

Two more days, and then the bacchanalia begins. Oh and how I will have earned it after this week’s killer deadlines. Oh the hell!

Artscape, Baltimore City’s free Arts and Music Festival, is this weekend on Mount Royal Avenue, just outside my office. It is an event I eagerly anticipate every year. It is always hot, crowded, and crazy. In my nine or so years attending the festival, I’ve seen some fantastic performances and met some cool people, including my husband.

This year, we are kicking off the adventure on Friday evening at Sue Island Dock Bar, out on the water in Essex for some heavy, steamy crabs and ice cold Miller High Life. James and Lesley are coming into town from Richmond; Kim and Val are taking a night off from new parenthood; and general merriment will ensue.



Also new this year, the Bellevederes (yes, I never tire of self-promotion) are playing on Saturday afternoon at 2:30 at Northscape, just up Charles Street from Artscape proper. It is the Station North Art District’s attempt to capitalize on the overflow from Artscape... show the suburbanites who trek in from outside the beltway once or twice a year that North Avenue is not the Methodone Clinic-having, open air drug market corridor it used to be.

So, get thee to the corner of North and Charles Saturday afternoon, and then join us as we wander on over to Artscape to partake in some good (and not so good) art, good music, and countless varieties of food on sticks – this might be my favorite thing about the whole weekend, an entire food group devoted to whether or not it can be served on a stick. Bon Appetit!

I never noticed the size of my feet.

Internet Dudes, I am totally swamped today! I worked yesterday, got here at 6:30 this morning, have been busting my hump all day long, and will be here several more hours before this day (and this stinking alignment) is done. I am, however, starting to lose focus a bit and am enjoying the itunes shuffle more and more; it is throwing out some warm, juicy music love this afternoon. I’ve had Some Duke Ellington, some Afrigo Band, Aimee Mann.... the shuffle is quality today, and is finding tunes to perfectly fit my mood.

Some choice lyrics and songs from the past hour or so:

• “I gotta get a belly full of wine” – Her Majesty from Abbey Road... ummm. yeah. That should be my motto. That or “I never joke about my vices”
• “I get the heebie-jeebies, and my panic makes me late” – Does Everyone Stare by the Police. I’ve broken into several cold sweats today.
• “They looked sick and stoned and strangely dressed. No one showed from the local press.” – April the 14th, Pt. 1. Gillian Welch. I would definitely call what I am wearing borderline strange today.
• “What you Say?!?” – A Fool in Love, by the incomparable Tina Turner, from back when Ike was still abusing her and before Mad Max got hold of her fashion sense.
• “Everyone’s saying different things to me, different things to me” -- In The Waiting Line by Zero 7...seriously, this is EXACTLY how my last few days of work have gone.
• “Maybe the sun will shine today, the clouds will roll away” – Either Way by Wilco ... “I will understand, that everything has a plan...” Appropriate, since I am a planning engineer.

I apologize if my posts have been boring of late.... when the engineering brain kicks in, the creative brain hovers in the corner in fear, sipping chai, thinking about organic gardening, and reading Joyce (oh wait, I don’t do any of those things). Like Bruce when the Cat scratches him after he sniffs his ass, again. That dummy never learns.

A Funky Driver on a Funky Bus

Yes, yes I am, indeed, at work on a beautiful Sunday afternoon. And yes, it sucks.

I am not being nearly as productive as I should be, but am setting it up nicely to get in here at 6:30 in the morning and hit the ground running. Getting the easy things out of the way today so I can concentrate on the actual design elements tomorrow. My brain just is not functioning well enough today for the hard stuff. That's what happens when you spend the evening at Brewer's Art drinking Resurrection.

Ryan and I met up with our old friend Clark for a couple of quality Belgian Ales and to catch up, because we haven't seen him since Night of 100 Elvises back in December. That is way too long. Clark and his wife Joan are some of the greatest people I know, and I always love to spend hours chatting with them. We don't get to do it often enough. Then we stopped by our favorite restaurant, Ethel and Ramone's, in Mount Washington (go there today), to see our friend Brie, who was waitressing. Do you know what happens when your friend is waitressing, and it is the end of the night, and her tables are all finished? She keeps refilling my wine glass and giving Ryan pie.

So it was a wonderful evening, and this morning Ryan FINALLY found a lovely new hat at South Moon Under. We've been looking for a damn hat for weeks, I swear. But now I'm here, and Ry is home enjoying the wonderful summer weather with Bruce. Probably at the park. Those Turds.

Listening while attempting to work: Bay Area Funk: Funk and Soul Essentials from San Francisco, Oakland, and the Bay Area, 1967-1976. Volume 1. I can't WAIT to hear volume 2 because Volume 1 kicks so much ass.

Impatience!

‘Tis a short week here in cubicle land. Early Friday morning, Ryan and I are headed to my old stomping grounds of West Virginia for the weekend for the annual up-in-the-hollow 4th festivities. This year the urban truckster will be packed to the gills, as Kelly and Jason are joining us, along with Brucey in the back. I even bought one of those canvas toppers for the truckster, so we can stow our luggage above, allowing more room for people, dog, and the necessary beverages inside (Our beer selection is limited out on the Shortline, to say the least).

I am always excited to bring new people to Jacksonburg, especially people who have never experienced the isolated, rural beauty and desolation of deep Appalachia. Kelly and Jay are born and bred Baltimorons... true city people, raised in the flat land of rowhouses, beltways, and crabs. It will be a treat to expose them to the joys of my youth, and I know they will fit in perfectly with my family and friends.

As many of you know, Kelly and Jason are both musicians, and can sing like birdies – Kelly in the Bellevederes, and Jason in his band Among Wolves. And since my family is all music lovers and musicians, many holidays devolve into a group sing-along (some more successful than others). So Dave has been advised to bring a few extra guitars to ensure there are enough to go around.

I also get to see, for the first time, my parents’ new log cabin they are building up on the high field near the head of the hollow. They are constantly keeping me updated with pictures, but I cannot wait to see the real thing, get an idea of the size and scale of their long-awaited two bathroom (!) home.

Brucey will get to run free and be fed until his stomach is in danger of explosion, and I can’t wait to see how the more mature, fully grown version of Bruce will interact with Max, Mark and Tammy’s shepherd mix, and quite possibly, the best four-wheeler herder of all time.



As a result of the upcoming weekend adventures, my brain is slowing more and more. I am losing focus and am constantly daydreaming, planning, and modifying my to-do list. It is not helping that I have an avalanche of work ahead of me, but at this point it is sitting on the precipice, just waiting to drop onto my plate, but not quite ready, so here I sit, just barely enough work to keep me busy, yet knowing the mayhem is imminent. It will probably hit Thursday, when my brain is completely useless and I have 50 errands to run before the evening is through.

Wherein reality slaps me across the face.

We had a great show last Wednesday night at the 8X10. Sam Friedman took some fabulous pictures. Some video is here, proving that I do not know how to back AWAY from the mic when screaming, and that all the exercise is doing nothing.



We played the middle set. The other two bands were a bit more of the jam band variety and oh my god were they young. Like, not even fully grown. Their heads were even small. Kelly, who is petite and short and cute and at 27, the youngest member of the band, towered over them.



I don’t often feel, well, OLD, but last night, between the teeny tiny opening band wearing the exact same fluorescent shirts, white pleated pants, and members only jackets I sported in the sixth grade, and the audience making boxes to the closing band’s 25 minute jam-o-ramas, I earned every one of my gray hairs. I thought they were going to ask if we needed walkers.

The keyboard player from the first band did not know what a Wurlitzer was. I will repeat that. The keyboard player from the first band did not know what a Wurlitzer was. That is how young and uninformed he was. I’m sorry, if you’re going to call yourself a musician, more so a keyboard player, you should KNOW that the Wurlitzer is the granddaddy of all electric keyboards, the warmest sound of all sounds, the juiciest, prettiest notes you can hear. And yes, young un, technically, Sean’s 1964 Wurlitzer could have actually been played by Ray Charles. But I doubt it.

(This is Wurlitzer, son. Back in my day we had to carry it back and forth to school. Barefoot. In the snow.)

I am not poking fun. It’s just that they are too young to know any better. You know, I fancy myself aware of culture, Ryan and I get out frequently, we go to lots of different clubs and bars in the city, and that is the first time I felt so... oh you know. I’m not going to belabor it any longer. I sound like the old fart I am.

Dancing Queen. Or Not.

The Bellevederes will be at the 8X10 in Federal Hill tonight. The best thing about this show? The fact that we will be playing an hour set starting at 10 SHARP. And I hear the bar is pretty diligent about keeping to the schedule. As a rapidly declining thirtysomething, this means I can go to the show, have a great time, and still be in my bed by midnight. Now that is my idea of a good time. Or at least the best time I can have on a school night.

The only nagging thing keeping me from being completely pumped up for the evening’s activities is my foot. Or my ankle. Or something in that general vicinity that is swollen and achy and making me limp. Being the world-class graceful being I am, I managed to bang the top of my foot on the corner of our bed frame yesterday when crawling into bed for a nap. It hurt like hellfire, but I assumed it would be history when I woke up. It was not. So I idiotically assumed I needed to walk it out, and took Bruce for a walk which quickly devolved into me limping slowly down the street, being dragged by the dog the whole time. When I got home it was quite swollen.

It still is today. So I figure one of those tiny little foot bones are broken. But what am I gonna do about that? I’ve broken lots of those little bones in the past (because I am quite talented at tripping, falling, and banging into large, stationary objects). The doctor gives me an ugly, overpriced boot, some $45 ibuprofen, and tells me to “take it easy.” As if I was Don Henley.

So instead of wasting several precious hours of my time and money, I’ll just deal with an achy foot. This, however, is not a good thing when I am preparing to rock out with some bitchin’ three inch red patent leather peep-toe pumps on stage. So come see me and be entertained by my Elaine Benes-like dance moves.

The Secret Vedder Performance That Wasn’t

Oh well, I'm not a huge Pearl Jam fan anyway. I just thought it would be cool to see an icon in such an intimate venue. The band he was “supposed” to sit in with was good, if a tad bit hippie for my taste. But sometimes it is good to get your inner hippie out, make some boxes, and noodle on the guitar a bit.

Ryan, Jason, Kelly, and I stayed the whole time anyway, along with the rest of the packed house, just in case he was a very late arrival. And here’s the thing, the energy in that place was great! Looking down on the audience from our perch on the balcony, I saw people dancing, smiling, drinking, and having a great time on a MONDAY night. I found myself wondering why more shows don’t illicit that sort of response. I know that Baltimore is supposed to be a great music city, as Rolling Stone proclaimed, but sometimes when I am at a sparsely attended - yet great show - I get depressed looking at all the white people standing still. Why does it take the prospect of Eddie Vedder to get people up and jumping?

I guess that’s part of the reason I am part of the Bellevederes; too many years spent watching indie rockers and alt-country hipsters try valiantly to keep their “unimpressed” face on. It sure has been fun watching them fail at our shows.

Tonight, I am going to with Kelly (the other Belle singer, shown above) to the bridal shop to help pick her veil and headpiece, followed by a quick stop to see my friend Brie for a cocktail at the Golden West, that jaded hipster Mecca. But only if I can first get a nap in. I am too damn old for all this nonsense.

Egads.

You know, you love your dog, you cuddle with him, let him sleep in your bed with you, sit on your lap in the truck, eat your potato chips, and how does he repay you?

By rolling his long neck hair in some green, slimy, stinky dog poop, that's how.  And getting it caught in his collar.  At the point of the walk where it is just as far to get home no matter which direction you go.

Because he wanted to remind me that, above all, he is a gross, stinky dog.  He loves me, but he loves smelly things too.  I am again reminded not to think too highly of myself.

Touche', Bruce'.

On another note, extending the weekend yet again, as Eddie Vedder is rumored to be stopping into the 8x10 tonight, a small 200-person club, after his show at the Lyric Opera House.  I called the owner of the bar and simply asked if it was true, and she said, "We've been asked to get his amp set up."  I take that as a confirmation, and ordered 2 tickets right there on the phone. 10 bucks each.  Not bad for a legend.  Of course, now I'm gonna have to have a beer.

Oh yeahhh...

Oh Inara George, you of the heavenly voice, I really need to listen to your solo album more often... such a great record.

Reflections. Or some such nonsense.

So, another beautiful evening finds our heroine relaxing on the back patio, glass of nice Spanish White Wine in hand, staring up at the leaves against the evening sky, reflecting on a fantastic 5-day weekend. We did not plan on the 5-day weekend, but sometimes spontaneous happenings are the best kind.

We kicked our weekend off Thursday, going to see "The Hangover" at my new favorite theater, Landmark Cinemas in Harbor East, prefaced by drinks at James Joyce, a completely non-annoying Irish pub in "Little DC", which is what Ryan has christened Harbor East, cause it looks nothing like Baltimore, that's for sure. The Landmark is my favorite theater for a multitude of reasons, the best being the good beer selection that you can bring into the movie. That's what I said, beer in movie. Best idea ever.

The Hangover was fantastically funny, Zach whatever-his-last-name-is totally made the movie. I am so happy good comedies are in vogue again.

Friday, as you know, was the Bellevederes second show at the Windup Space. My mom and my Aunt Tammy came over from West Virginia, and my cousin Natalie and her boyfriend Rick came up from Leesburg, and I think they had a good time. The place was packed, the crowd danced like crazy, and it was about 700 degrees in the room. I can honestly say it was the most fun I have ever had in my entire life. That moment when it all clicks, when your harmonies blend perfectly with the organ, and the rhythm section is in perfect sync, that, THAT is the best feeling. All you can do is close your eyes and smile.

Saturday was spent relaxing on the couch while Ryan played June Star, and, well, see the last post for today's fun.

So toodleoo, as I must go prepare for the season premiere of True Blood. Bring me my type O, Sookie.

Listening to the shuffle on the good ol' dpod.... On The Bound by Fiona Apple, an oldie but a goodie, from "When the Pawn....," Country Girl by Cassandra Wilson, another oldie but goodie - songs from my single life that still work almost five years into matrimony. D'Angelo, because that album is the shit. Oh, and some Afro-Cuban Orchestra.

Getting’ Beautious

I am getting ready to leave work and begin the grooming and gathering process in preparation for tomorrow night's show.

First, I am off to the nail salon to spend the gift certificate Ryan’s mom got me for my birthday, I’ve been saving it. Then I’m headed up Reisterstown Road to the Chinese-people beauty supply place for some hair goop and possibly some cheap hair extensions! I have this vision of teasing my real hair up into a bouffant and having some long luscious locks flowing down my back, something completely foreign to me as my hair refuses to grow any longer than my shoulders.

Ryan is frightened of and repulsed by fake hair, be it extensions, toupes, or “twigs”, and will probably make some acerbic comment if I come out of the bathroom with fake hair cascading down my back. But he can bite me. Half the fun of performing is dressing up, putting on things you might not ordinarily wear in your everyday life, especially with a throwback soul tribute band. Dude, if I had the legs to pull it off, I would TOTALLY rock the super-short minis and white high boots. Alas, us big legged girls got to work with what we got. So my skirts may be a bit longer, but I will more than make up for that with false eyelashes, some bitchin' high heels, and fake hair. And hope none of it falls off while singing!

Hope to see you tomorrow night at the Windup Space!

My Afternoon Playlist

I am utterly bored and completely useless this afternoon. Work is not keeping my attention. I have too much in my head swimming around. So, as an exercise to entertain myself, I am stealing a Facebook Application and putting my itunes on shuffle and list the first 10 songs.

This could go one of two ways: wonderfully awesome or terribly embarrassing.

Here Goes:

1. MX Missles – Andrew Bird from “The Mysterious Production of Eggs”. And how bummed am I that I missed his show with The Decemberists the other night.
2. Reelin’ In The Years – Steely Dan from “Can’t Buy A Thrill”. Love the Dan and I don’t care what you think of it.
3. Unwind Your Mind – Karl Denson from “The Best of Cookin’ (Disc 1)”. This is clearly one of Ryan’s albums from his instrumental funk era. It’s good, but I cannot claim credit for it.
4. Evans Shuffle – Little Walter from “The Best of... Volume 2”. Huh, I guess my shuffle is in a bluesy mood today.
5. The Village Green Preservation Society (Stereo) – The Kinks from “The Kinks Are The Village Green Preservation Society”. That’s more like it, baby.
6. I Shall Be Released – The Band from “Music From Big Pink”. Hands down one of the best albums. Ever.
7. Black and White – Serge Gainsbourg from “Comic Strip”. I swear I DO own albums released after 1980.
8. One Way Out – The Allman Brothers Band from “A Decade of Hits”. This is NOT reinforcing my last statement at all.
9. Queen of the Slipstream – Van Morrison from “Poetic Champions Compose”. While I love Van the Man, and count “Astral Weeks” right up there with “Big Pink”, I am just about to give up here, and am increasing my listing to 15 in hopes of reestablishing some modern day cred.
10. Answers To Your Questions – Loose Fur from “Born Again In The USA”. Better.
11. Sitting By The Riverside – The Kinks... Village Green.... Again. Do you ever think your ipod gets in a certain mood? I understand the statistics involved with random selection, but I think there is something way more mystic going on with Apple.
12. Americanitis – Will Kimbrough “Americanitis”. Good, little known artist. This album is a great prosecution of the Bush Era.
13. Sun It Rises – Fleet Foxes from their self-titled album. I cannot say enough good things about this band.

OKAY I’m quitting here on a high note before my Harry Connick, Jr. pops up. Cheers!

If my head gets any bigger I'll need new hats

I am feeling quite jaunty and energized today. I know it is a stupid, meaningless thing, but we got a write up in the actual print edition of the City Paper, along with a picture of Kelly and me. A picture! Dude, I’m in the City Paper – the Baltimore City Paper. Excuse me if I am a little star-struck by myself for a second. The last time I was in the paper was probably the Wetzel Chronicle for High School Debate Team or something like that. Dude, I’m in the Baltimore Hipster Hate-everything, uber-cool City Paper and the review is good!

Deep Breath. Okay, okay, now I’m over it.

More importantly, it is so nice to be able to exercise my creative side again after many years of engineering-related dormancy interrupted with the occasional one-off occurrence. There is so much more joy in my life – from both singing and writing again – and I am having FUN. Pure, unadulterated fun. We know we’re not reinventing the wheel with the Bellevederes; we are just creating music for people to dance to and have a good time. And that is more than enough for me.

Now, I fully respect the singer-songwriter, in fact I am wildly envious of a person who can write a beautiful original melody and lyrics – Ryan is truly talented in this - but that is just not me. The fact that I can carry a tune and read music does not automatically mean I have the songwriting knack. Because I do not. And I’m okay with that.

We are preparing to write some original songs for the band, feel we are getting a big enough repertoire that we can take time for some songwriting sessions, and I am confident that, given a good groove and beat, I can help come up with some soul lyrics. I mean, there are really only about three or four topics in 90% of soul music: You are in love and want to do it; Somebody done broke your heart: The man is keepin’ you down; and your car kicks ass. Certainly, we can come up with some lyrics for those topics!

But there is also such a huge catalog of under-appreciated gems, songs that deserve to be heard, songs that will never be played on the oldies stations, and we are actively seeking out those songs to add to our catalog as well.

So stay tuned for more adventures of the Belles!

Listening: Etta James – because she inspires me with her bad-assness

The Bellevederes

Wow, is this ever fun!

Friday night, our Soul Revue - The Bellevederes - will be playing at the Windup Space.
I was in the process of sending an email to Sam Sessa, Midnight Sun columnist for the Baltimore Sun, and submitting the info to the City Paper, Baltimore's Alternative Weekly and I found this:

http://www.citypaper.com/calendar/event.asp?whatID=125481

Our picture is there and everything! And Look, that’s the wall of my house! Right there in the City Paper!

And Yes, I am a complete dork.

What it is, my friend. What it is.

I think I will flip a coin

Internal Debate: Go to Ottobar to watch Husband play music or stay home and rent "He's Just Not That Into You"?

Don't judge me for my ambivalence or for my poor taste in what I am quite positive will be an awful, unredeeming chick flick for which I will hate myself in the morning.

Oh, fluffy pop culture, though art a cruel and powerful toxin...

The Internal Editor

Do you ever spend time composing something (letter, email, song, etc.) then scrap it on a whim?

Yeah, I just did that, wrote this long entry about women in the workplace. Then upon proofreading it, realized I was boring myself. It was not funny in the slightest or saying anything that has not been said more thoroughly before in countless magazines and newspapers.

Sometimes my inner technical writing geek gets the best of my storytelling abilities. Too many years of writing environmental documents, engineering analysis, and power points, I guess.

Off to Rectorium tonight at the Windup Space, a new weekly event every Thursday - cause that's when Russell has the night off and wants to unwind with his friends. Get it? Unwind? hahahaha! What is Rectorium, you say? If you want to find out, you have to come out to the Windup, the best bar in the city.

Listenting:
Delta Spirit - "Tomorrow Goes Away" from "Ode to Sunshine", a fabulous record!
The Bees - "Papa Echo"

Cruisin' on a Sunny Afternoon

Just took a lovely lunch-time walk on what might be the most beautiful June 1st in Bawlmer history – cool, sunny, breezy – my favorite weather. Made it extremely difficult to come back to my stale, climate controlled, indoor cube. My cube where the heater is currently on. At least I have a couple of relatively interesting yet not too pressing tasks to complete. Need to keep the motivation level high to make the afternoon go quickly so I can spend the evening correcting the heresy of being stuck indoors on a day as lovely as today.

Listening while walking:
“Hop Scotch Willie” by Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks from what might have been one of the best albums released last year..... he was panting like a pit bull minus the mean
“Unwind Yourself” by Marva Whitney. MAN is that woman a badass.

Extreme Relaxation

This is a picture from the Adirondack Chair on my back patio.  I don't know if I will ever be able to live in a non-shady place ever again.  Occasionally I curse the fact that our house is always dark, but then I am treated to evenings like this.... and the knowledge that it is alway five degrees cooler at my house than anywhere else in the city.

Playing while this picture was taken:  My dpod which shuffled up Outkast, Johnny Cash and June Carter, then Coldplay (Shuttup -- it was the first album and I STILL stand by that record, I loved it, it was an important part of the soundtrack of my life and still think it is incredible. I cannot help it if they sound like a U2 ripoff today -- and I cannot stand U2.)

Drinking while this picture was taken:  Both red and white wine, cause Sunday IS indeed the new Friday.