August 31, 2004
I took the following pictures from my car. No, not quite a drive-by. I stopped the car to take the pictures. But I didn't get out.
August 27, 2004
Posted by beth at 4:39 PM
August 26, 2004
Posted by beth at 6:06 PM
August 17, 2004
Ready to go
I'm ready to go to the ice NOW!
Of course, I have a month of touring around the Pacific Northwest and another month after that in Boulder before I go down, both of which will be great, but I'm getting into the Antarctic mentality. I've been hanging out with friends from down there, and talking about it and filling out paperwork for it and preparing for it at work, and I'm ready to go. I'm excited to go.
So it's hard to get my mind set on going to the Pacific Northwest, which should be an excellent adventure. Two weeks of work, looking for good places to put permanent GPS sites in southwest Oregon for the purpose of monitoring movements related to faults and volcanoes and general plate motions, and then 10 days of hanging out in the Seattle area, attending Bumbershoot (music festival) and backpacking and going to the ocean with my friend Anna and our families and then attending my high school reunion. And, on top of that, hanging out more with my family and with other Seattle-area friends. Jam-packed with goodness.
I leave here tomorrow afternoon for Portland, and will probably be heading south on Wednesday. We'll see. I'm not really sure yet what exactly this will entail, but I'm excited. I think it will be a great trip.
I need to start looking at pictures of lush greenery rather than of ice, seals, and ice.
August 6, 2004
Red Bull and vodka
Okay, so to answer my cousin Susan's question posted as a comment to my last entry: Too many. Too many Red Bull vodkas last night, which I think totalled three, me having to stay awake for the concert and all, and today I'm paying for it. Not only am I sleep deprived and a little fuzzy, but I wake having to deal with the fact that I posted an entry at 2 AM last night which I understand but which, in re-reading it, may make little sense in parts to anybody else. Yet I'm reluctant to remove it, because I think it's kind of funny. I can make fun of myself. And, obviously, other people. I'll at least have to leave it up long enough for my parents to read. If I'm offending anybody, though, let me know, or if you think I'm painfully embarassing myself, you can be honest about that too, because I might thank you for it later.
August 5, 2004
So today I get an e-mail from Fox Theater, a concert venue in town, saying I have free tickets to a show tonight. I joined their mailing list when buying a pair of tickets to a Martin Sexton show in the end of August which I found out an hour later I won't be able to attend. But some good things come out of misfortune; I got an e-mail today saying I had free tickets to a show tonight, one for me and one for a friend, and why not go? So I went. And my friend Jim, from work, who I haven't hung out with for probably about two years, came as well. Camper Van Beethoven headlining, with blah blah (probably somebody wonderful, but somebody who we didn't see, because I called Jim just as the concert was supposed to be starting) and then the G__ (Garth? no, something else that starts with G) something (Colton?) Band (I know the Band part is right), and they were young and very cool and from Texas and the singer (G-sombody, but not G-Love--Garth maybe) was wearing boots and would sometimes rock up on his heels (rock--get it?) and that was very cool as well, and plus they sounded good. And then another band, Gem, or maybe Jem--probably the latter--, who again was a band fronted by a personality but really the band was quite good, especially in this case, and again this band was quite young, making me feel old. And then Camper Van Beethoven came on, and I felt better. Plus, the bassist was hot. I think I've had a thing for bassists ever since my friend Peter pointed out that the bassist is usually the one to freak out and not be able to deal and to just go play to the speaker for a while on stage. They're usually a bit less showy than the other members of the band, suggesting some mystique and intelligence, yet are still cool because they have bad posture and seem very concentrated. I think Janice, of the Muppets, played bass, by the way. I could well be wrong about that. The bassist in the band before Camper Van Beethoven, Jem (the band's name, hopefully not the bassist's name), wore a stalking cap and looked somewhat hip-hop and definately cool, like the rest of the band, tough, yet played a stand-up bass. I told Jim (not Jem) I thought I loved him. The Jem (not Jim) bass player, that is. The nice apparent contrast, the cool guy playing stand-up bass. I know stand-up bass is cool, but it's generally cool in a different way than hip-hop is cool. Anyway, the Camper Van ("Can I call them that?" I asked Jim, worried that it would sound too personal) bassist was wearing a ring, as were probably the rest of them--the violenist was, I know that much, because we (Jim, not Jem, and I) were standing on his side of the room--but so it goes I guess with a band whose members are older than 23. Camper Van Beethoven. I was excited when I got the e-mail from the Fox (sounds like secret code, doesn't it? like I was summoned for a secret mission), acknowledging that I only remembered (I thought) two of their songs, but liked them quite a bit in the early nineties. They didn't play the second song that I knew, but they *did* play Pictures of Matchstick Men--which you can't not love, I don't think, if you've ever heard it--and Take the Skinheads Bowling, which I didn't realize they'd done. They song, I mean. I don't know if they've ever actually taken skinheads bowling.
So that was my night. When we first got into the theater, Jim said, standing at the bar, What night is tonight? Wednesday, I said, and he stood in contemplation. I thought that maybe that meant that it wasn't time to order a drink, Wednesday being a work night still two nights from Friday and all, but I guess it actually meant that it was a vodka tonic night, because that's what Jim ordered. The rest of the night was vodka tonic for him, as well, but apparently Wednesdays are Red Bull vodka nights for me, because I was afraid I wouldn't stay awake otherwise. As much as I liked the G__ C___ Band, I was lagging after their set.
To make the night even stranger (stranger than getting random free tickets to a show), it ended up being a show put on for AAA folks, which I guess is not just a roadside service company but a coalition of radio stations as well. One man started conversation with me at the bar when Jim had excused himself to use the restroom. The man (the one who wasn't Jim) said, "Are you here for the convention?" after which he explained that he was going to look at my chest for a nametag but if he were to do so I would think he was looking at my--Cool T-shirt? I offered, and he stumbled over some words, saying Well, yes, that is a great T-shirt, and I didn't notice the cleavage--What? I asked, acting offended, and the poor guy stumbled a bit again before I let him off the hook, telling him I just wanted to make him put his foot in his mouth. He said something to the effect that he didn't have much trouble with that.
And now, realizing with reluctance that it is Wednesday night, I must retire to my bed to prepare for the morrow. Sleep well, all, and have sweet dreams of faces under pillows or funny shades of yellow or whatever it is that Camper Van Beethoven (Camper Van, for short?) is singing about in "Pictures of Matchstick Men."