Somebody at D'Addario got creative.

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Country music

Last night, and last weekend, I brought my guitar out to the country. A short 20 minutes from my place, my friend/co-worker Steve lives in Agua Dulce, which is refreshingly rural in comparison with my desert-suburban apartment in Canyon Country. Last weekend was dinner then jam session with Steve on drums, Peter on bass, and Lixian on percussion/audience. Last night was a pseudo-Halloween party (costumes optional) with cookout, volleyball, karaoke, and jam-karaoke. Playing music with other musicians--what a novel concept! So different from piddling away on my guitar while sitting on the ottoman in my apartment. While we're far from sounding good, we are certainly having fun with our instruments.

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Nail-biting and charcoal

In sequence, of course, not at the same time. This past weekend I had planned to visit Kristin for a cookout with some of her hometown friends. Rather than fighting the Friday afternoon in Los Angeles traffic alone, I decided to take a shuttle that picks up about 10 minutes from work and drops off right at the terminals at LAX. I arrived at the bus terminal about 5 minutes before the bus was scheduled to leave, but I couldn't buy a ticket for that bus (though it didn't look full.....) The next bus was slated to leave in a half hour, and I figured that would still give me time to get to the airport and check in. Well, 30 minutes became 45, and we finally departed around 3:50.

The ride could be done in about 45 minutes, but even in traffic shouldn't take much longer than an hour since the bus uses the carpool lane. But go figure, we were still on the freeway, crawling about 10mph down 405, as late as 5:05. My flight was scheduled for 5:25. I wasn't going to make it. (Omitted here is the series of phone calls I made while on the bus, trying to make contingency plans like getting a later flight out--didn't exist--or a morning flight--couldn't make it before noon--or flying to Chicago and borrowing my folks' car...) Getting off the bus, I found a Skycap and tipped him well; he handed my bag to the TSA guy, and I started ducking under the elastic-band barricades while running full-sprint through the security line. I felt like an asshole, but it was a necessary evil. I had to catch that flight.

And I did. I arrived at my gate to claim my boarding pass as the second group was called. I got off the plane in Indy around 11:30 local time, greeted by Kristin at the baggage claim.

Saturday was great. The cookout that K had planned consumed most of our day--save for a lunch with her sister--between getting the lake house prepared and the appetizers and sides cooked. Her friends started showing up around 4:30, toting sides, beer, and funny stories about their young children (e.g. the 2-1/2 year old who is almost potty-trained: he poops anywhere and everywhere in the house but picks it up and places it in the toilet...). As it got darker and later, more friends arrived, more beer was consumed, and we had fires in the forms of charcoal in the grill and wood in the pit. A lot of laughing, a lot of meat and dip and pasta salad and cookies, a few games of cards, moonlight reflecting off the lake, K's dogs playing under the stars, and conversation about small town and small world: these were the diversions of the evening.

Sunday was consumed by the cleanup effort and the usual "get ready to go back to the city and the working world" that weekend visits always include. We drove back to Indy and Kristin waited with me at the airport till I had to go to my gate. The goodbyes are always the hardest part, and the weekends always go by too quickly. But this weekend was so simple, and, except for the anxiety of nearly missing a plane, so wonderful, that it was extra-difficult to see its conclusion.

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Gears and what???

For the last week or so I've been drinking less pop. I've also replaced my morning pot of coffee with a cup of green tea. All this to hedge off caffeine headaches for yesterday's fast. Having forgotten last night to set up my automatic brew again, I made a cup of tea this morning. But now I'm here at work, enjoying a nice hot black cup of coffee. Good to see you again, old friend!

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Happy Anniversary

For K's and my one year anniversary (over a month ago, 9/1/05) we had quite a wonderful menu of events. One night I took her out to a wonderful Italian dinner in Marina Del Rey, and then we walked along Venice Beach under a full moon, with the blue fluorescence of the red tide lighting up each breaking wave. Another night Kristin cooked for me a meal of traditional Jewish dishes, which was as impressive as it was delicious.

From laziness or business or procrastination, I failed to post all about Kristin's visit to California. During her visit is when we belatedly celebrated the anniversary, but we also had so many other things to do. Going to the Los Angeles County Fair (nothing like the fairs in the Midwest, by the way--there weren't any barns full of prize-winning livestock), visiting with her cousins, going to the pool, going to the mall, and eating all sorts of food, were the activities that filled our free time. She got to meet all the people I talk about, see the places I go, and enjoy the care-free California lifestyle.

This coming weekend I fly back to the Midwest, looking forward to a cookout near K's hometown with her old friends. The countdown has hit the phase where I can almost start numbering the hours....

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Hating Columbus

What did Christopher Columbus do, anyway? He borrowed three boats and sailed across the ocean, with a crew that thought they'd fall off the edge of the Earth, in search of gold and spices. When he landed, he thought he was in Asia--it took Amerigo Vespucci to tell him he had "discoverd" a new continent. As if nobody else would have been able to find the Americas anyway.

But I'm ranting about Columbus primarily because his namesake day (which I had forgotten) foiled my ingenious plan to make a trip to the public library after work today.

In unrelated news, when did my blog get infested with spam comments??

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