I forgot to tell you about this blonde girl dressed in pink on the plane on the way home from Denver. We were in row 19 -- so, close to the back of the plane. Generally when a flight is deboarding, people are civilized and file out in an orderly way row by row front to back.

I got ready to exit my row during my turn and the little brat, maybe 4 years old, barrels through from the back, elbows my leg out of her way, bellows, "Excuse us," and takes off down the aisle.

Me, finding this not even a tiny bit charming, did my best sarcastic, "Yeah, well I guess so." And here comes Mom behind her and I figured she'd give me one of those embarrassed smiles and possibly even a muttered apology but no, she's barreling past me out of turn as well. Then comes bratty slightly older son given the responsibility of carrying some sort of seat-contraption which he transported by kicking it down the aisle with his feet. Neat-o.

The next person, who might have been Dad was kind enough to stop and let me edge in but I had to endure kick-the-seat kid who made slow progress through the plane.

Hey people: not everyone is as patient as you are with the kids and, never too early to teach them some manners.

And slightly related: if you haven't tried this yet, I highly recommend earplugs for public travel. This is a new discovery and it's been fabulous. I'm thinking I'll start wearing them when I take the train to work as well.

There was an article in the NY Times recently talking about commuters and iPods and how the iPod isolates people from each other. Yeah, right. Because public transportation has always been the hotspot for casual conversation with random strangers. You could argue that I'm also isolating myself by sticking my nose in a book the moment I get on the train. 25 minutes twice a day I could be building communities but instead I'm consuming media.

I also sometimes bring the iPod, mainly to drown out the people who use the train ride for inane chatty cellphone time.

Today it was high strung passive-aggressive woman: "Have you thought about my refrigerator? ... Do you know when you'll be thinking about it? ... No, no hurry. ... What? ... I don't know. ... How much would you be willing to pay? ... I don't know. ... What do you think?"

Earplugs. iPod. The choice is yours.

I bought some perfume (I guess they call it fragrance now) from a catalog because, you know, smelling good is a big priority for me. This source appealed because not only do they have the usual jug-size that would last me 12 lifetimes, but also a perfect tiny size which doesn't cost much and will only last as long as I still enjoy it.

Ordering fragrance from a catalog is sketchy because how acurately can you describe a smell? This catalog says things like, a delicate scent wrapped in veil of dew-covered grass, rich moonlit evening and citrus. Oh. Okay.

I picked 4 and tried them all and then annotated the list. The one I liked best I put a star next to. Another one I wrote "rainy" because it reminds me of a fragrance I used a long time ago that was called something about rain. For the other two I wrote "whorehouse" and "bugspray."

Yesterday, when we got back from our trip, we made a desperate run to the grocery store. We were out of everything except onions and mustard.

I've been having trouble with my garage door opener and the battery seemed the likely culprit so I carefully wrote down the name and number of the thing on my list so I'd have it at the store.

The lady at the battery/photo/whatever counter was busy with a customer so I hunkered down, because the batteries are near the floor, and searched myself and had no luck so when she finished, I asked her if she had any batteries for my garage door opener and showed her the number.

"I don't know," she said, "Don't you see it down there?"

"No," I said. "That's why I was asking." (I said it in an information giving way, not a snotty way.)

"What?" she said, all snippy. WTF? Yeah lady, I see bags of them hanging here, I just wondered if you did.

This reminds me of another time I was at a much loathed chain bookstore but I needed a particular item for a gift and stood at the help counter for ages while the surly twenty-somethings did some riveting thing that necessitated ignoring me for 5 minutes. Finally one of them turns and wanders over and says, "Did you need some help?"

No. I thought this would be a nice place to stand. What is wrong with people?

It Smells Like Otto's Jacket

Bob and I went to Denver over the weekend to see String Cheese Incident with our friend, Walker. I didn't do so hot with my photos, but there are a few here.

Everything went smoothly and we had a fantastic time and according to Bob I saw 1 of the best Cheese shows ever. Good news because honestly, these were my 7th and 8th shows and all the songs still sound the same.

We hit a small snafu at check-in. Apparently one of our names matches a name on the current watchlist and given the braintrust that is operating "security" for this nation, I don't doubt that half the people in the country get tagged when they want to board an aircraft. We were given a sheet of paper so that we (they don't know which one of us triggered the extra security check) can go through some 45 day process to avoid the extra hassle at the airport. I'm certain it will be unnecessarily invasive and stupid and not sure we are even going to do it. If giving up kiosk check-in and waiting an extra 5 minutes for an ID check is the alternative, given how little we fly, we'll probably live with it.

In the gate Bob pointed out this kid dressed in full Davy Crockett get up -- coonskin cap and a brown denim top and pants in a deerhide color. When we boarded turned out we were in the back row, next to young Davy. He was a little twitchy but probably average for that age. He worked on his math homework, basic addition and subtraction: with a calculator. Are you allowed to do that? Shouldn't it be a basic life requirement to add and subtract in your head?

I was burnt about the back row but all sorts of interesting people lined up to use the john. One guy had on a Phish shirt so I asked: "Are you going to Cheese?" and w/o even hesitating he said yeah and proceeded to tell us how it was a bunch of buddies doing a last minute reunion, they didn't have tickets, but they knew lots of "other" ways to get into the show.

Another guy looked like a rockstar Tommy Lee guy in black leather fringe jacket and he brought two adorable little girls back, both wearing Harley Davidson t-shirts.

We met Walker at the Airport and grabbed a cab and headed downtown, checked into our hotel, changed clothes and headed right back out to grab a bite before the show. Walker and I both had a Great Divide Amber and we both took a sip, set down our glasses and at the same time said: That's great beer.

We arrived at the Fillmore in time for the full-on hippy freakshow out front. Some guy with a megaphone wanted donations for something and tons of hippies stood around with a finger in the air, hoping for a miracle. (Didn't see the guy from the plane.)

The Fillmore is a giant venue with a wide ballroom floor and chandeliers plus huge side areas with a few chairs and tables and plenty of bars. We chose to sit in the risers behind the stage. The view was excellent. I was thrilled to have a place to sit and during the show we could see what the band saw: the crowd bouncing around. Kyle had one of those little flying cows on a wire that went in circles over him during the show both nights. A cow tech adjusted the cow before each show and during the show if there were technical difficulties. I was riveted by the flying cow's status and cried, "Cow Tech!" when it flopped around and needed an adjustment.

So about the show: I don't know what to tell you. I had fun. I like live music and dancing around. The cloud of patchouli and smoke took about 5 years off my life, but it's all part of the scene. Perry Farrell DJ'd Friday night and SCI played some Jane's Addiction songs with him which I loved. And Del McCoury's band (w/o Del) played with them a lot on Saturday night which was awesome. These were Walker's 50 and 51st shows and Bob's 25 and 26th. The band would play a bar or two and Walker, Bob and the crowd would all cheer and I'd be thinking, "This sounds exactly like the last song."

After the show we went to the best liquor store ever. It was across the street from the Fillmore and basically a giant barn filled with rows and rows of every kind of wine or liquor you could ever think of plus a whole wall of fridge case with beer. We could have shopped there forever but we only had 15 minutes until closing. Walker wanted to buy a bottle of water and the guy was like, "Um, I think we have that... ."

After the show Saturday night we went for a late night snack. I wanted something sweet and all the choices were chocolate or cheesecake except for apple pie - which I ordered and they were out of. I went against my instincts and ate this cheesecake thing. Never again. I could hardly sleep my roiling innards were so unhappy with my choice.

We staggered out early, and headed back to the airport under a cold, clear sky. Excellent adventure.

Has anyone heard? Has there been a national advisory or anything because I think there's been serious upswing in the amount of dust in the world. Or at least at my house.

I can't believe how much dust accumulates in my house. I moved a couple of things around on the dresser the other day and was appalled to see a thick coating of dust complete with mini-dustballs covering the back corners of the thing. Then I walked by these little shelves we have between our kitchen-dining area and stopped to stare. Then I swept a finger along the edge and a huge ball of dust rolled off my finger.

Has it always been so dusty?

I am dead last in the office NCAA basketball pool. I am comforted by the fact that (a) I am the only person keeping my coworker from last place and he actually watches NCAA basketball and (b) when we do the office bake-off I will leave those people in the dust.

I finally invested some time figuring out how Flickr works and updating my photos. I'm going to try to change the photos more often but we'll see how I do. I don't know how these Internet people keep up with all the blogging and photosharing and contact lists and iPod playlists and cellphone ringtones. It's a fulltime job maintaining ones personal technology. There's software to update and batteries to charge and giant user manuals in 4 different languages to plow through. I have 5 free songs I've yet to redeem from the iTunes store.

I finished I, Elizabeth which turned out to be the never-ending novel. I don't think I'm going to read anything over 400 pages, ever again. No, I take that back. But in general, I will avoid super long books. Do books need to be that long? This one sure didn't. By the end I didn't even know who she (Queen megalomania Bess) was talking about. How many Roberts were there? I'm going to find a chronology online to help me fill in the gaps.

RE: books too long. I used to read fantasy books but now I'm daunted before I've even started. Who can even type 1200 pages a year? I remember liking a book called A Suitable Boy by Vikram Seth which was over 1,000 pages long and I stuck with it with few complaints. Then there was this book by Milan Kundera. I think it was Immortality and it wasn't close to 1000 pages but it felt like it. I would read for what seemed like ever and only 14 pages went by. I had that book on the nightstand for 2 months and couldn't believe I wasn't finished with it yet. It was a loaner and I hate handing a book back to someone and saying I hated it. But I did.

I forgot to tell you a funny story from a week or two ago. Bob hung out with a group of his teacher friends one Friday after work and ended up getting home late (you know, after 9pm) and there was a communication mix up so I was a little annoyed. You know what they were doing? They were watching History Channel videos. How geeky is that? How can you even be mad a a person who stays out late watching History Channel videos?

Last topic for today concerns the show Alias. What happened to this show? It's like the last season of XFiles, I'm used to watching so I keep watching and I don't like it. Instead of being drawn into their world, I'm wondering how the actors can say some of those lines without cracking up. I never understand the missions. They jet to some exotic location and have to steal something or talk to someone either in a club, an impenetrable fortress or a crowded street bazaar. The idea of the sister is good but her character is sadly not very interesting. Even Sydney "I have weird posture" isn't interesting any more. Bummer.

I am reading I, Elizabeth by Rosalind Miles. It's about Queen Elizabeth I and about 600 pages. I'm enjoying the book but are so many people and they all have the same 2-3 names (Katharine, Jane, Mary or Henry, Edward, Thomas) and if they aren't royals, they're dukes or earls or regents or councillors or whatever. I need a white board to keep track of it all.

Those Tudor royals were nuts. How could you get anything done if you spent all your time wrangling for power, marrying your cousins, sending people to be executed? And that's not even getting into the whole church craziness. I wouldn't have cut it in those times.

I've watched a couple of DVDs this weekend. The kind with tons of special features.

I know special features are a selling point. People feel ripped off if there are no extras. But truthfully, who has time to watch that stuff? How is your life improved by seeing a trailer (a commercial) for a movie that's been out forever and you've already seen the film? Who has the time and desire to page through photos or costume drawings or read a script on the TV?

Interviews are nice. I like hearing the filmmaker talk about the film and some commentary tracks are excellent. But some are just people talking, obviously trying to think of things to say. Or endless butt kissing about how talented the people who made the film are -- do I really want to hear that?

The Lord of the Rings movies have multiple commentary tracks. It takes a special circumstance for me to have 4 + hours to watch a movie I've already seen anyway, much less all these extras.

I'm not saying the extras are bad, I'm just wondering how many people really take advantage of them.

Today is the 7th anniversary of our moving into this house. Hard to believe. It's gone by quick.

We haven't made any interior changes like getting rid of the wallpaper we hated when me moved in. We're just not motivated in that way. I wish we were.

The only work we've done is replace some windows with storm windows and that air conditioner was a biggie. We also have someone prune our trees.

When I was younger, before the house, I always thought that I would be happier if I had a better living space. Bigger or more private or mine or whatever. And a part of me always thought that was a geographical fantasy -- that if you're not happy where you're at, you're not going to be happy anywhere.

But I love our funky house. I love our neighborhood. And I love living with Bob.

I divided my rhubarb over the weekend.

I didn't even know I had rhubarb until last year, I think. I thought it was some random volunteer in the garden and I neither removed nor encouraged it. Last year it was extra robust and I harvested and decided to learn more about rhubarb which according to Billy "grows like weeds" in Wyoming.

I found this article about rhubarb and marked my calendar so I could divide this month.

I figured once I started it would all make sense but actually I ended up digging up this gigantic root ball and I gently tried to separate what I thought were the rhizomes and ended up breaking things apart with big ugly cracking sounds.

I bought two bags of compost and separated the thing into 8 new plants. We'll see how it does.

Via The Banterist

Definitions for people who get coffee at that place:

Antiventi
A person who rejects company size lingo and orders their beverage in small, medium and large.

Coffotomy
Removal of unwanted beverage by pouring it into the trash, usually to make room for milk.

Hesitip
The act of waiting until the employee can see you place money in the jar, so you can get credit for it.

(The Banterist is worth your time. Super funny.)

We saw Rebirth Brass Band last night.

The tickets said the doors opened at 8pm and the show started at 9pm. We arrived at 8:25 and first they said they weren't open yet but then they decided that right at that moment they would let people in. But they told us that the band wasn't in the building although they'd called and assured the club that they were "10 minutes away."

The two of us and another dozen people about our age funneled up the stairs and into the club. By the time the band started playing at 9:15pm there was a decent crowd gathering. (This always happens when Bob takes me to something I've never heard of. I develop this bizarre misplaced distress that no one will come see the show like I'm personally responsible and the people will feel bad. It usually ends up being packed to the rafters.)

The crowd was half people like us, big music fans (or their significant others) and the rest were hipsters. I could tell because the girls all part their hair crooked and have ironic accessories like purses made out of cans of Campbell's Cream of Mushroom soup. The guys have ponytails or carefully sculpted bed-head and shirts with heart-stopping patterns. And they all wear pathologically quirky eye-wear.

It was super fun. The band is from Louisiana and plays kick ass party dance funky fun music. We had a blast. AND they finished at midnight. I was in bed by 12:30a.

Via Gawker

Yesterday, Maxim assistant editor Steve Mazzucchi attempted to eat 50 sickeningly sweet Cadbury Creme Eggs.

How come no one ever challenges me to do something like this?

The whole thing is photo documented if you visit the link. Yeah. And actually, I don't want to be challenged to do this. Just bring me Cadbury Eggs to eat at my leisure. I like the caramel ones, too. (I ate one this morning. I have to eat them in the morning because if I eat one too late in the day, I can't sleep.)

Here's one more Dylan quote that I forgot last time:

[Describing an 8 second film of Robert Johnson, blues guitar hero] "He looks nothing like a man with the hellhound on his trail. He looks immune to human dread and you stare at the image in disbelief." p. 287. I should probably point out that if you follow that link, it claims the film Dylan saw that inspired that description is not Johnson.

I finished another book this afternoon (Sidney Lumet, Making Movies) #12 which means I'm in still on track. The last two books have been non-fiction and I feel like I'm not reading when I read non-fiction. Next is going to be fiction. I've still got Momaday and there's a Proulx in the pile, and I, Elizabeth which is a fatty and a little daunting.

Bob commented that it was an interesting choice to choose books that are short so I can make 50 for the year. I think it's kind of stupid, myself. I think his logic was that I could sample a lot of different things over the course of the year.

Also, now that I'm reading on the train, it's a whole different way of reading. A. It's harder to concentrate and B. I'm reading in short 20-25 minutes bursts twice a day. Barely enough time to get immersed before I have to put it away until later. Not my ideal way to read.

In other news, today the air conditioning was installed. It was much more complicated than I expected. At one point we had 4 guys here. Every time we get something installed it seems like they have to drape cords, cables, wires, pipes, or whatever around the house and under the eaves and tuck under the siding or staple around the deck or something. I'm wondering if this is genuinely worrisome or just something that offends my sense of order.

Typical: I've been poking around here this morning because I woke up early and didn't have to rush and now I want to leave in about 20 minutes and I still need to comb my hair and completely get ready from scratch.

I finished the Bob Dylan book yesterday: Chronicles. Volume One.

I'm not a Dylan fan which isn't to say that I dislike him, only that I never voluntarily spent time with his music so I only know things that have been on the radio or TV or whatever.

I loved the book, the way he writes, the way his mind works. I started marking some pages with quotes I wanted to include here and then when I went back to check the marked pages, half the time I couldn't figure out what passage I'd intended.

Here are a few:

He describes a guy, "he looked like a riverboat gambler." [p. 63]

"If you have to lie, you should do it quickly and as well as you can."

He and Bono have this discussion which includes something about the birthplace of America. They were talking about Vikings and Minnesota in the 1300s. [pp. 174-175] I'm sure my rant here is predictable. We'll leave it at that.

RE: Rappers (he admired what they were doing)
"They were beating drums, tearing it up, hurling horses over cliffs." [p.219]

I have spent the entire weekend working on all the little things sitting around here that I haven't had a chance to get to and have been driving me crazy. (I have a low threshold for the unfinished task.) (This is not a hard and fast rule, there are always exceptions.)

Main thing: I cleaned the bathroom. I love a clean bathroom. I did some gardening. I went through all the financial stuff. Transfered money around. Paid the property taxes. Finished the fed and state tax forms and got Bob's signature and that's stuff's ready to go. I went through all the stuff that needed to be read and filed or recycled. I would go on but I just realized that no one on the planet cares about this stuff.

Update #1

Last month I wrote a post about the death of Max Schmeling. I knew there was a Tante Irmgard story but I couldn't remember it and I not-too-generously suggested he was a cranky old man.

I was wrong.

Dad asked Tante I about it and she said he was connected to the Friendship Force in Hamburg. Friendship Force is a travel organization with the idea of promoting peace through international friendship. More here.

When Irmgard was involved with FF she wrote Schmeling a letter and invited him to meet with some international visitors. He promptly wrote back and thanked her for the invitation but kindly excused himself, more or less because of his age. Apparently he wasn't cranky at all, but rather, a nice and generous man. Pamrentz.com regrets suggesting otherwise.

One time when Irmgard was with Friendship Force she traveled to the US. I can't remember what state but she stayed with American FF members and in the morning they didn't drink coffee and offered her none. (Any person familiar with German hospitality is cringing about now.) She finally asked if there was any coffee and they searched the bowels of their kitchen cupboards and presented her with a jar of instant so ancient she had to chip it out of the container. She called it "Roosevelt coffee" because she suspected they bought it when he was still in office.

Update #2
My second update concerns flipping off the Trimet driver.

According to OtherBob, the trains are on some sort of system where the driver can't just hold the door for the running passenger to hop on. I guess this makes sense since there are other trains and road crossings and so forth. I apologize for the bird and removed the curse and hope it didn't cause any inconvenience.

Last night we were at Everyday Music. I got Paul Westerberg - Folker. As we were walking back to the car, Bob said that he got Maxwell and now had the entire Maxwell catalog.

I started singing: "I always feel like somebody's watching me-eeeeeeeee."

Bob has a puzzled look on his face. Then he stops walking and says, "That's ROCKwell."

I've haven't been riding MAX for 2 full weeks yet and I've already flipped off a driver.

What is wrong with these people?

She can see me running up the stairs. (What sort of crack team designed the Vanport TC? There is no short way to get to the train platform from the parking lot. In fact, if you didn't crawl through the bushes, there would be no short way to get across the parking lot.) She can see me holding my ticket out and plunging it into the validator.

I turn around and the doors slam shut and the train drives off? WHY WOULD SHE DO THAT? The 5 seconds it would take for me to get on the train would seem to fall into the category of basic human decency and not even a small inconvenience to anyone anywhere.

(Other Bob, if you can enlighten me, I'm waiting.)

I was furious. She got the bird. I said numerous colorful bad words and no one could even hear BECAUSE THEY HAD ALL JUST TAKEN OFF ON THE TRAIN. I kicked the SINGLE bench that TriMet deigned to put at my stop. And I put a curse on the driver.

Good luck getting rid of that itch lady.

Good Effing God.

I'm still adjusting to my new schedule. Seems like I'm always rushing to get out of here and getting home later. And I seem can't manage to get a proper breakfast in me or a proper lunch made. I've been sustaining on Girl Scout cookies (thanks WKB) which is not my preferred way to eat.

So you are getting a very phoned in Wintergrass wrap up.

Yodeling Never Hurt No One ... 'Cepts Them that Had to Listen to It.
Wintergrass has gone the way of Bumbershoot which is to say it's too freaking crowded. I don't understand humanity's tolerance for massive crowding. Why would you want to fight your way to an event and be humiliated by parking and then wait in line and pack in to see something and then wait in line again every time you wanted a corn dog or to take a pee?

People do it. Not for me. Seriously, I'd skip my own funeral if there wasn't spacious seating and parking right out front.

Having said that, the weekend worked out just fine. We picked up Priscilla and cruised up to Tacoma on Saturday. We managed to catch a nice set at the church before heading back to the main room at the hotel. We saw some more great music before we went to dinner and met Aunties and Uncle and then Bob and I managed 3 more sets before we staggered to our lodgings in Fife. We met the family again for a terrific breakfast, hit the road and were home in the afternoon. I even did some yardwork in the late afternoon sunshine.

Bluegrass does a body good.