Sep 05 2006

Music

I am not a music reviewer. I just don’t have that in my list of skillz. Here’s who I liked/loved this past weekend.

That One Guy. So. Fucking. Awesome. If you ever liked Primus, you’d love him. I think you’d get a good kick out of him even if you thought Primus was foul.

Sam Bush. Sam? Why did you have to turn so country? I still love you, but can you please go back to the jazzier sound I fell in love with? Please? Thanks. You still rock.

Incendio. Creative. Interesting. One to watch for. And good dancing.

Grupo Fantasma. Ay-ay-AYE! I danced to every one!! They could have played for hours and I still would have danced to every one. The energy! The rythms! The horns!! A new favorite.

Wolfstone. Darling Wolfstone: I used to want to make out with you, I loved you so much. Now I want to puke on you. Except when you play the old stuff that makes me want to make out with you again. And then you play the new and I want to puke. So just play the old stuff, ’cause I hate puking. Love, D.

Way Out West. Way Out West is a band who only just re-joined in honor of the 25th anniversary of this festival. They are: Joe Craven, Coyote Bob, and Prairie Flower. They are smokin’ good fun and a great trip down sentimental lane for those of us who have been at this festival from the beginning. And Joe Craven is quite possibly one of the finest musicians alive today.

John Cowan, Darrell Scott, and Pat Flynn. These guys actually played together. Awesome.

Blame Sally. I missed half of Blame Sally and was distracted for the rest, but I think I really liked them. Good tight harmonies is about all I can recall right now. I’ll have to investigate further.

Now my gimpy hand is getting very tired and I’ve finally made up for missing three days of posts. We had a wonderful weekend and we plan to keep going for as long as they’ll have us! Maybe next time John won’t try to cool himself down with a spray bottle full of vodka and I won’t mistake my hand for a butcher’s block.

Sep 05 2006

Cute, Cute, Cute, and Cut.

The few pictures I have left:

Cole was love, LOVE, LOVING this wagon. He could ride in it, keep his toys and snacks in it, pull up on it and stand…

He was standing so well that he even started doing full knee bends as if he was exercising.

Sometimes he even sort of forgot to hold on. And still stood up. Scary.

And then he would realize and fall down. But that was cool too- he’d just crawl off to the neighbor’s wagon and check out their toys.

Toys- HO!!

And he got to play in the milo (birdseed) box for a while. This is the only picture I have left from that. I think it looks like he was strummin’ on his shovel-banjo and singin’ a tune.
Is it bad that I really wanted to punch that little girl who’s sitting in front of him? The milo is meant for babies and she was hogging most of the space. On top of that, she was pushing all of the babies and yanking their toys away from them. She hit Cole lightly on the top of his head and I picked her up and booted her 3 year old butt into the lake. Wait… no. That part was in my head. Actually, I just said “Hey!” like a little girl and pulled Cole out of the box. I didn’t see her parents around and I didn’t want to be one of those parents who takes it upon themselves to discipline other’s children. It’s not worth my time. Had her parents been there, I would have said something to them.

And for those of you who are curious, I give you The CUT:

Really, it doesn’t look that bad, does it? It’s shiny because of the glue. It’s spotty because the doctor didn’t clean all of the blood off first and glued the remaining spots in place.

If there are more typos than usual it’s because I can only really type with one hand. Sorry, but now at least you see why.

Sep 05 2006

My Five Day Camping Weekend

AKA The Weekend I Saw The Only Part of Yosemite Valley I Never Need To See Again.

We left Thursday morning to go to a music festival just outside of Yosemite Nat’l Park. We had a great time (though I can’t show you because it appears that my memory card is corrupted and has eaten all but about 7 pictures. I could cry.) until Sunday when I decided to cut an apple for Cole.

Because we were camping and the tables were covered in dust and booze and who knows what else, besides not being the most stable, I decided to try cutting the apple while holding it in my left hand.

You see what’s coming, don’t you?

The knife got a little stuck and then, upon a brief wiggling and more pressure, slid through, only to become stuck once again. In my hand.

Paper towel on, hand held high, I made my way to the First Aid tent where they informed me that I needed stitches and that the closest hospital was about 45 minutes away in Yosemite valley.

Except that this was Labor Day weekend. Did you all come to Yosemite this past weekend? No? Because the rest of the fucking WORLD did.

We had to borrow a car because ours were all trapped by other cars. It was a stick, so my mom had to drive. John and Cole couldn’t go.

It took us an hour and a half to get there. I was there for about 45 minutes to an hour. It took about an hour to get back.

Most people don’t know, but I have a paranoid fear of stiches. The instant the First Aid guy said stitches I started crying hysterically. I did not really stop until I got there and the nurse said that she thought they might be able to Dermabond (super glue) it back together. As soon as stitches were off the table, I was fine.  don’t know why it’s so bad. It always has been for me. When I was 6 I had a doctor tell me that I needed stitches under my nose. Then he touched my nose with a Q-tip so lightly and I kicked him in the balls. Honestly. So I’ve always been touchy about stitches.

(Though, somehow I don’t count the stitches I got after having Cole. I even forget about them. Weird.)

So they glued me back together and gave me a Tetanus shot. The shot hurts really fucking badly now. My hand just stings a little.

In the end, the worst part of the whole thing was that Cole had bitten my boob a few minutes before the apple cutting and I had sternly said NO and patted his mouth and it made him cry hard. I didn’t get a chance to hold him or kiss him again before I made my horrible journey to the hospital.

On the good side, though, he hasn’t bitten me since.

I’ll have more about the actual festival, which was great, later after I’ve wallowed in self pity for a while longer.