Category Archives: Love

Failwhale, damn it.

Music, ,

In which I’m your geek, baby.

After several months of letting it sit there and collect dust, I installed that new 120Gb HDD into my A30 laptop. Then a few days went by – days during which the laptop was in its carrying case – and then I decided it was time to set the bitch up and copy my files off of my original drive, format it, and then get my iTunes library off of that failing external drive (it fails to spin up sometimes, which is uber spooky) and get my data organized.

So I set up the laptop, and plugged it in (because the battery only holds a charge for 4 minutes – I need to replace it) and…

…no power. None. Won’t light up. Damn.

So either the AC adapter has failed, or there’s a connection problem inside the laptop itself.

Fuck!

I have no laptop. I need to get the adapter on a multitester and see if it’s putting power through, and if not take the laptop itself apart and see if I can fix it.

Not having a home computer is upsetting me mightily.

It’s as if the universe doesn’t want me to have my freakin’ data in one place! I’ve been trying to get my shit organized for over two years, and can’t seem to pull it off. You have no idea how hard it is to get content off of CDs and onto my iPod! And my play stats are hosed! And no scrobbling!

In other news, I’m playing the Roosevelt Wine & Wheels Festival with the Coyote Kings tomorrow.

Playing the Ice Harbor Brewing Co.

Music, , , ,

In which there’s a trip to the Tri-cities.

I went and saw my stylist Saturday afternoon for a cut and color. I said I was doing a lot of gigs this summer and that I needed hair I could scrunch up into curls easily… so bitch chopped all my hair off! I have a totally asymmetrical, VERY SHORT razor bob and I’m still a little weird about it, but Curtis & Syl said it was hawt and teh BF likes it, so I guess it’s okay. Color’s good, at least, even if I don’t have bright enough highlights.

My new hair and I played a brewery Saturday night with the boys. (K’s pics of the event are here, because he’s even more of a cell phone camera whore than I am.) People in Walla Walla talk about the Tri-cities in rather the same way that people in Fairfield talk about Ottumwa, so I was surprised at how awesome the crowd was at Saturday night’s gig in Kennewick (which happens to be the town I was born in). They were enthusiastic, friendly, and they clapped after solos. They danced. They followed us outside during breaks and told us we were awesome. We got an ovation, even. The room sounded good and the vibe was great.

But, being a brewery the place only served beer – which I don’t really drink – so I had Pepsi and water all night and made K take me out for cocktails THE VERY INSTANT we rolled into W2 at 12:30a. He took me to the Stone, where we listened to three adorable twenty-year-old skater boys tell us all about their various broken bones and trips to hospitals. The bartender gave me a glass of merlot because he didn’t have a cork for the bottle and couldn’t save it. We rolled out of there about an hour later and went to K’s, where we stayed up late. Really late. Ahem.

On Sunday, we lazed around a lot and accomplished nothing of interest to anyone but ourselves. Monday, we bought groceries and vodka. K mowed his lawn. I made portabella capellini for dinner – a culinary triumph! – and we ate in the shed because the weather was being almost decent. I crashed at K’s again last night and caught a ride to work with him this morning.

I haven’t seen my own house since Saturday afternoon ’round 4:30, and I feel vaguely guilty about it.

In other news, my dress arrived today! Maybe it’ll warm up enough for me to actually wear it this summer.

My Blue Bindu

Soapbox, , ,

In which I unstress about the relationship between my dog and my grandmother.

Bindu is fat and listless and can’t finish an entire dog walk around the perimeter of two city blocks. Her belly’s bloated. Her nose is dry and she’s tired all the time. She’s clearly not feeling well.

The week Grandma was out of town, Bindu did much better. I fed her water and Iams and nothing else, and after three days of such cruel denial she perked right up and her overall health and energy levels were much closer to normal.

This morning I told Gramma – again – that she’s got to stop over-feeding my dog. At first she said she wasn’t feeding them that much, that they aren’t getting any people food and only a whole can of wet food each day along with all the dry kibbles and Moist ‘n’ Meaty they can possibly stuff down their gullets… I explained to her that a 30-lb. animal needs about one cup of food per day, and could she please just not feed Bindu anything but dry kibbles and water? She said she can’t feed one dog and not the other because it’s not fair. I asked her to just close the hall door and leave Bindu in the back then, because otherwise she’s going to kill my dog. At that point, she more or less said that the dog ‘lives with a grandmother and is going to be spoiled, period’, and changed the subject.

I might have to find a doggy daycare just to keep my girl from having a food-induced heart attack; I don’t know how else to get the situation handled. I love that dog, but short of quitting my job and being home all the time I can’t keep her from being over-fed. I’ve asked nicely, I’ve asked intensely, and yes she’s tried to feed them less but she’s been in the habit of spoiling her dog rotten with food for a decade, and Bindu finishes everything Chipper doesn’t eat because she’s more alpha than he is and that’s just how dogs function and it has nothing to do with hunger at all: the fact that the dog is eating does not mean she’s hungry. The only way to solve this problem is to leave less food lying around, and it’s okay, Chipper won’t starve! Chipper will eat if he gets hungry enough; he’s omega, not dead.

Yesterday I ate Mexican food for lunch at the joint across the street from the office (it was raining out and the place was convenient). I had a book with me and absently finished off everything on my plate while reading. Maybe it wasn’t a lot of food by typical standards, but I’ve been paying attention to portion sizes these past couple of months and the result of such gross overeating was that I ended up with an absolutely brutal case of food coma: My stomach hurt, my heart felt labored, I was sluggish and exhausted and just so uncomfortable that I hovered on the verge of having a panic attack. I was a total retard for two hours, and it sucked.

Digestion is the single most energy-intensive function the body performs. Most heart attacks happen after a meal. Overeating can kill you.

And that’s how my dog feels all day, every day. Food coma. And she’s got a heart murmur, and she’s packing on extra weight, and I can’t get my grandmother to just lock my fucking dog out of the kitchen while she kills her own pet with kindness.

It’s not like Bindu doesn’t love her new life at Gramma’s house; she adores the rigid schedule and the big yard and the nice lady who indulges her and the little black dog who lives there too. I don’t want to keep her away from the house or anything, and I’m abjectly grateful that I have somewhere comfortable to leave her when I’m out working and playing…

The bottom line is that the woman comes from an era when they didn’t have dog food. Dogs ate table scraps and they died a lot; there weren’t any scientifically formulated bags of dog food lying around when she was a kid. Spoiling a dog is a kindness by her lights, not a cruelty. And I get that, but I want my blue dog to have a nice, long old age too.

I’m caught between Scylla and Charybdis [def] and it suX0rZ [def], but here’s some cute pet porn of my blue girl.

In Vino Veritas

Music, Social, , , , , ,

In which I do a gig I feel good about… and drink WAY too much wine.

Yesterday I came home on my lunch break and took a shower and put on jeans and cute shoes. After work I came home to drop Bindu off and smear on some mascara. By seven I was at the Sapolil Cellars tasting room on Main street. The joint was packed.

The owner hugged me and pointed to my co-worker, KJ, whom I’d invited to come. (He’d been sick earlier in the week so I didn’t think he’d show, but there he was.) I sat with him for a bit and then the gig started. He and I ended up hanging out all night and having a freakin’ blast, going to the sorts of events we wouldn’t normally go to. (As he said later, “I haven’t had this much fun in Walla Walla in years. It’s like we went to another town, man.”)

RB and Cookie played a couple of tunes, then I went up and joined them. We did a good, long set and then took a break. It was early enough that it was still light out. During our second set, we had a keyboardist and a harp player sit in, and people were dancing by the end. We even got called back for an encore. All in all, a good gig. And the cash money at the end didn’t hurt, either. (This band pays me. I love it.)

A., the owner’s daughter (whom I adore because she’s funny as hell), kept pouring me wine so by the time we left the joint around ten I’d probably downed at least an entire bottle if not significantly more. I prudently put my grandmother’s car in the garage and caught a ride with KJ. We followed A. to the Flying Trout tasting room. The wine there was served in beer cups instead of stemware, the crowd was younger, the decor was minimalist industrial basement, and the DJ utterly failed to impress me. I ran around drunk and friendly and probably annoyed the hell out of many innocent (read: less drunk) people.

The truth of wine being that I adore people when I’m wine drunk and love to accost them and talk to them about themselves, but I never shut up long enough for them to do so. Hah! It’s amazing nobody smacked me. Srsly. I had SO much fun!

There was a couple in the crowd dressed in snow suits. The guy had goggles on, and would push them up onto his forehead only when talking. I asked the girl why she’d decided to wear a snowsuit to a tasting room, and she said it just seemed like the thing to do. I met a skater dude in his late 40’s with tons of ink and got him to take his shirt off for me. I scattered two other conversation groups merely by approaching with my mouth running. I saw one of the chicks who works at the Starbucks I go to. I saw A., the chick we’d followed there, once.

After that it gets blurry. I bought some Cheetos at a convenience store at some point, but they were too gross to eat, and I could not now tell you what store it was. At one point I thought I’d lost my wallet but it was easily found in KJ’s car. I didn’t get to bed until the sky was beginning to pale in the east.

The first time I woke up today I didn’t dig it that much, so I went back to bed and didn’t really start my day until six in the evening! I called RB and apologized for not answering when he’d called earlier in the afternoon, checked in with Becca, tried to eat at Rosita’s (closed Sundays) and ended up with a 7-layer burrito and a huge raspberry iced tea. Went to RB’s, listened to a bunch of Wilson Pickett, and discussed our set list for next weekend at the Balloon Stampede. (We’ll be on the Pepsi stage from 5 to 6:30. Come see us.)

Now I’m home and the dogs are sleeping on the rug. I have a couple of episodes of Doctor Who to watch, and several movies to choose from. I think I’m gonna hold the couch down, lest it suddenly decide to float away, and rest up for tomorrow: I have to do laundry and mow the lawn.

My weekend was three days long!

Music, Social

In which I get an extra day off to play in a garage.

Saturday I took the day off work so I could do a gig. It was at a private party in a Morton building and it was cold once the sun went down and I schlepped gear and ate nothing but chips and potato salad all freakin’ day, but I still made more money than I would have if I’d spent the day at work. After the gig the drummer took me to the Milton-Freewater Supper Club, which hasn’t been remodeled since 1967 and is all red and retro and tacky and wonderful and I’m totally in love with it.

Sunday Gramma and I had a party basically so there’d be an excuse to make the “real old-fashioned two layer cake with homemade brown sugar frosting” we’ve been talking about for three months. In attendance were two aunts, two uncles, two dogs, two cousins, a second cousin, and two neighbors, and the official excuse was that it was a birthday celebration. The food was good (quiche, tossed salad, a fruit plate, cornbread, and chili) and the cake was awesome. I had a really good time.

I have decided that today will be a big fat movie fest, and I’ve been lying on my bed working my way through an entire spindle of DVDs a co-worker loaned me. It’s fuckin’ sweet.

Now I’m thinking of taking a $20 bill and walking over to Loney’s to buy delicious junk foods. Because I’m not afraid to get deep into the lazy decadence, oh no I ain’t.

Old Dog

Pets,

In which I’m waiting for the results of the blood work.

Bindu has a heart murmur for which she may or may not need meds. She does not have ear mites, but she did get her ears cleaned. She’s obese – she weighs 36.1 pounds, up from 29.8 six months ago – and has to lose weight. She received a parvo/distemper shot. She may or may not have diabetes for which she may or may not need meds.

They said they’d call me Tuesday or Wednesday.

I spent $150 at the vet today.

I also watched a movie, failed to do laundry, showered, went to band practice, and may or may not have put a scratch in my grandmother’s car with a bush or fence or something while parking (I’m not sure if the scratch was there before or not).

Over all, despite the lack of real trauma, a fairly high-stress day for me. Going to bed early.

Hurumpfh.

Seeing Mother

Music, Spiritual, , ,

In which my plans are quite suddenly changed.

Saturday night my entire band had a long practice. After, Curtis and I went out and Becca showed up. We met a wine writer from Seattle and hung out with her all night, even dragged her to after hours for a bit. I got drunk. Around three in the morning, Curtis and I finished up the curry and rice I had stashed in the fridge and he crashed in the front bedroom.

Sunday, the weather was GLORIOUS! Clear and breezy, and had to be at least seventy degrees out! We went to brunch at 26 brix (and let me tell you, the bloody mary was awesome) and then wandered aimlessly around town until Curtis had to go record with RB. We even stopped at the miniature airport and watched the enthusiasts fly their little planes around for awhile.

Monday, I did – among other tedious but necessary online things – my taxes. I’m getting a refund! (I was so poor last year that I actually qualified for EIC. Go me.) Apparently I’ll be getting $300 for my rebate, too, which is exiting because I’ll TOTALLY need it to see Amma this summer.

I was going to try to see Her in New York in July, but not only has the ticket for the dates I wanted doubled in price in the past 6 days, but it turns out that one of the other techs at work has already gotten those dates off for vacation – so there’s no way I’ll get them off, too.

Now I’m scrambling madly to get organized to see Mother in Seattle, since people are taking vacation days during all the other tour stops I’d like to go to (not only New York, but Fairfield and Chicago too). The Seattle programs are complex because there’s a day of public programs followed by a two-day retreat and then a public Devi Bhava. If I’m going at all, I either register for the retreat or I only see Mother for one day. Since it costs just about $200 to fly to Seattle I’d rather go for more than a single day… so now I need to sign up for a retreat with no on-site housing in a town where I know no Amma devotees. Gah!

(You know, I should have known this would happen. I contacted the Seattle satsang by email and am doing seva remotely – placing notices on various online boards about Mother’s visit – but of course it’s going to work out that I have to go meet the Seattle satsang properly, and probably work like crazy at the programs and the retreat too.)

In other news, Bindu’s going to the vet for blood work tomorrow. She’s gotten fat since we’ve been here (because grandmas are indulgent and feed dogs table scraps, and give them milk and lunch meat every single night before bed) and now she drinks and pees so much that I’m worried about diabetes. She’s exhibiting some other behavioral changes too, which is why I’m actually worried: she can’t walk the 12 blocks to work with me on Saturdays without a rest at the halfway point, and she seems sleepy and cuddly more than tired or overheated.

Send the good blue dog your non-diabetic thoughts, if you would, and I’ll let you know what we learn when the results come back.

Another Chichi Wine Event! (It's like I'm in wine country or something!)

Music,

In which I get money for nothin’. (But no chicks for free.)

First of all, I haven’t washed my hair in 3 days, and I just want to get that out of the way before we go any further. Full disclosure and all that.

Yesterday afternoon RB left me a voicemail message at work saying that Sapolil Cellars‘ musicians had canceled and did I want to sing for money? I said hell yeah, and walked over there after I clocked out of work at eight. I stood next to the grand piano and sang totally unrehearsed songs with a piano player I’ve never played with and RB on electric. Eventually I got a mic, but I did the first several songs totally unplugged. The audience was gracious and attentive, because wine is a very social kind of drunk.

The vintner gave me two glasses of really good 2006 Syrah wine, told me I was a great singer, and then gave me fifty bucks! Who could ask for anything more?

After the gig – if I can even call such an impromptu setting that – we mingled a bit, and then RB gave me a ride home. I had a bowl of lentil soup and an awesome baby spinach salad and went to bed.

I’m gonna put the cash toward a gig clothes fund. I have no cute gig clothes.

Go, me. Yay. No, srsly.

Health, Music,

In which I’m so fucking healthy you would not even believe it.

I woke up before my alarm went off this morning. I did isometric exercises on the floor in my room. I took a shower. I made breakfast and ate it. I walked briskly to work. When I stopped for an iced latte, I even got soy milk. (Don’t worry, even though I’m a vegetarian I don’t eat enough soy for it to be dangerous. I have enough problems with my hormones as it is without introducing a bunch of phytoestrogens or a thyroid dysfunction into the mix!)

Last night at open mic, I did not order cheese fries. (I did have a few cocktails, though.) (I’m developing self-discipline, not spending a year dead for tax purposes.) Mmm, cheese fries!

I have no idea where all this motivation has come from, but I’m willing to admit that it might just be plain old vanity. I’ve noticed a trend that will, if left unchecked, have me waking up one morning shaped like a goddamned chicken (read: ball-shaped object on sticks) and I’m simply not into it. I’ve never really had a waist to speak of, but enough is enough.

In other news, RB is booking all sorts of gigs. Here’s what’s cookin’ so far:

(The boys’ gig calendar is here. I’m not necessarily doing all of the gigs listed.)

RB told me last night that he’s decided to bill me as ‘The New Queen of Blue-eyed Soul,’ which totally cracks me up. One rarely thinks of marketing oneself in such a way, but I suppose it’s just that sort of tagline that gets a girl gigs. And I like gigs. Now, if only the band members weren’t spread out all over two states it might be easier to actually practice together once in awhile.