Rockin' Roadtrip

My brain is probably still way too polluted to do this post justice, but we won't know till we try, will we?

We departed last Wednesday at way-too-freaking-early-o'clock for the twelve-hour drive to Bloomington, Indiana. We got checked into our awesome room at the Walnut Street Inn, just a few doors down from the Bluebird Nightclub, venue for the next night's concert. It was Cody, not the whole band, for an acoustic show with his bassist and another musician... which was fine with me. I've wanted to see one of his acoustic shows for a long time.

The next morning/afternoon got a little hectic. I was standing at the bathroom sink when, reflected in the mirror, I saw the tour bus drive down the street. Peachy. I was behind schedule already.

I had shopping to do.

So down the street we went, so that I could obtain souvenirs and - eventually - lunch. I also got some emergency phone calls from home (nothing serious, but I did have a few small panic attacks), before we settled in at a sidewalk table near the club to have lunch and observe the bus-related activity.

And there wasn't all that much of it. Last year, Cody spent the whole afternoon strolling around town, mostly talking on his phone, but not this time. So, fine. Time to change clothes and stake out our spot at the door.

While there, I met Ragweed Rick, who had his laptop with most of Cody's songs from the previous night's show. Then Lori & Mike showed up. She and I started chatting before last year's show, but she wasn't able to attend then. It was fun to have another couple to hang around with this year, though. We did learn that she and I together can lead to trouble. She's an instigator, and I'm the one who always says stuff like, "Yeah! Awesome idea! Go ahead, and I'll be right there with you!" Bad influences? Maybe. But more fun than I should probably be having at my age.

(Double Trouble)

The show, of course, was incredible. After it ended, we chatted out front with some guys from the opening band, but then I decided I might feel better if I went to my room and retched for a while. Today's lesson: If you're going to ingest copious amounts of alcohol, you should probably have more to eat during the day than a small platter of deep fried dill pickle chips. Just sayin'.

On our way to the room, though, we women-folk (Lori-Squared, Lori X 2...) did get hit on by a couple of 20-something guys. I patted cutey-boy on the cheek and told him I had a kid his age, and maybe he should go play with someone closer to his own age.

Eventually, we were all hanging out in our room, and we sent Tom & Mike out on an errand. And - of course - they ran into Cody. By the time they came and got us (Tom had neglected to take his cell phone), he was gone again. We sat outside the bus for about an hour (making it now close to 2:30 AM) before giving up.

My other lesson: When I've been acting much less than my actual age, I do "hit the wall" 'long about 2:00 AM. I run all out of wakey-wakey. I mean, when your usual bedtime is 9:00 PM... Exhibit A:

(Sidewalk comfy...)

Lori & Mike roared off on their Harley, and I... went to sleep.

(Oh, yeah, also out on the latenight sidewalk, Tom accepted free pizza from a stranger. He didn't die, so I guess it was okay.)

From the show that night:





The next morning, it was off to Springfield, Illinois. We got checked in at the Sleep Inn, had lunch, headed to the Sangamon County Fairgrounds, and met up with Lori & Mike again. More alcohol, more brain pollution, more fun.

The show, this time with the full band, was spectacular. We were right on the rail at the stage. (And, right against the stage at the show at the Bluebird the night before) At one point, Tom had to protect me from a big fight that broke out right behind us. I thought he was going to get pulled into it, but he just got beered on. But he kept me from being knocked down or hit, which I appreciate because I am old and brittle. Plus, it's kind of nice to have a big, strong husband who is willing to risk a bunch of rowdy, punch-throwing drunk guys to save you from injury.

From Night 2:





Our new friends weren't able to find a room, so they ended up staying with us. A slumber party, complete with pizza! And... well, it was a party. At least the severe storms held off until after the show. Last year I was shin-deep in mud after having to "seek shelter" in the car twice while we waited to see if we were going to get sucked up in a tornado.

Next morning, blah blah blah, 8 1/2 hours on the road to get home, and here I am back in Minnesota.

Tom still has concert fever. I always have it, but his outbreaks are sporadic. We've already planned to go to two shows on consecutive nights in Iowa this October. The next night is the band's last scheduled show before they take an unspecified amount of time off (possibly all of next year)... in Chicago. Tom got thinking about this, and next thing I knew he had booked us a room in the Windy City for that night... so we'll be doing three shows, three straight nights.

Considering how exhausted I am after this roadtrip, I hope I survive October!

And, yeah... I was right. This is a pretty lame post. But talking about all the awesome fun is making me sad because it's over till October. :-(

Dragged Kicking And Screaming Into The Present

This conversation has taken place periodically in our house over the past year or so:

Tom: Do you think maybe we should get new phones?
Me: Meh.

My aversion to phones in general, and cell phones in particular, is well-documented. After a couple of decades in jobs which consisted primarily of answering the phone, I developed a sphincter-clenching reflex triggered by the sound of ringing.

We last got new cell phones a little over two years ago. I relented enough to get a flip-phone, which I thought was as cool as I had any right to be. It had no camera. Why would I want a camera? I think it could (theoretically) go online and receive pictures, but I never figured out how. With the display screen about the size of the average man's wristwatch, there was really no point. I did manage to download my Ragweed ringtones from our provider, and I ordered a custom Cody skin for it from skinit.com.

(Our old LG phone model, the telecommunications equivalent of "tin-can-and-string.")

In the past year or so, though, I've started texting more. Not a lot, but enough. Mostly to annoy Tom, or provide hints regarding what I am expecting him to do later in the day. And I got into Facebook.

A few days ago, Tom announced that it was time to renew our service contract, and we had a substantial credit toward new phones. I was totally disinterested. Meh. Phone. Don't like phones. I don't talk to people, and since that's a phone's primary function, why would I care?

Then he asked me to go to the Sprint website, and at least look at the available phones.

Huge mistake.

I started to care. They were all so... shiny.

Suddenly, I wanted a new phone. Moments before, I hadn't wanted a phone the same way I hadn't wanted a Kindle. And we know how that turned out. I didn't want a phone - or a Kindle - the least little bit. Until I did. And then I wanted it rightthefucknow.

We consulted the usual sources (my online friends, and The Boy). After minutes and minutes of consideration and research - I've mentioned my poor impulse control and tendency to steamroller Tom when I want something, no? - we reached a decision.

We're getting an HTC EVO:

(This phone is so advanced, it is probably capable of launching the space shuttle. And I think it might be magic.)

Contrary to my previous apathy, I'm now beyond excited. And impatient. That Amazon "Buy Now With 1-Click" button, which brings entire books to George-the-Kindle in under a minute, has me spoiled. Why isn't my phone here yet? We ordered it over one entire day ago! It's magic, so you'd think it could have teleported itself directly to my house, and I'd already be finding out exactly how technologically inept I am. (Though I suspect.)

And that's the problem. By my calculations, this phone is approximately eleventy-seven bajillion times smarter than I am. But since I'm so stupid, my math may be off by a magnitude of ten. At least.

There's really not much middle ground. You can either have "smoke signals," or "does everything up to and including traveling through time." Since I decided I'd like to be able to text using something other than a basic phone keypad, update Facebook, check email, and maybe take a picture once in a while, there was no other option. I had to get a phone that I will completely under-utilize... and probably fear.

This thing has a screen big enough to use for a drive-in. It has 4G speed (where available... will be here soon), which is apparently some kind of fast that I can't even fathom. It has two cameras. It has... a kickstand. I can make my own Ragweed ringtones. And it does about sixty trillion other things that I don't even know enough about to quantify the depths of my cluelessness. I bet the manual is four inches thick.

The thing that pushed me over the edge in the "phone lust" department is our upcoming Ragweed Roadtrip. Next Wednesday, June 16, we will drive twelve hours to Bloomington, Indiana, to see an acoustic show by the Codylicious one at the Bluebird on the 17th. And the next night, we will see the full band at the Sangamon County Fair in New Berlin, Illinios. How am I supposed to share the awesomeness of such a trip without the ability to constantly send drunken texts and Facebook updates??? We had so much fun last year, but my ability to entertain and annoy friends was greatly inhibited by my antiquated technology. This year... look out.

I figure a twelve hour drive might give me almost enough time to sort out some of the more critical functions of my new phone. But I did suggest to The Boy that he might want to take the day off work, so he can be available to help me un-screw anything I screw up.

I hear that the HTC EVO also functions as a phone. But don't call me. I don't like to talk.

Catch Me If You Can

Hey, FFFans... sorry for the hiatus. It was unavoidable, as I'm ass-deep in submissions for my novel, Make or Break. Yes, I finally got serious about doing the submissions. Yes, I did. Really. Shut up. It's way harder than you think.

Anyway, if you want to know what's happening, please click on over to today's Writecrastination post. That'll clear up a thing or two. Probably. At the very least, it will make you feel sorry for me.