f2.8  0.6  ISO 200

1.  Drumming Down

2.  Splashing Round

3.  Switching On

Kept awake from 2am by thundering rain pelleting down on the velux window.  In the end I went down to the Big Bed. Still couldn’t sleep. Went downstairs. Made a cup of tea. Read paper. Hung washing out. Made another cup of tea. Went back to Double Bed. Still couldn’t sleep.  Son 2 aged 2y 2m wailed “Mummeee!” and I went and got him. “Where are you taking him?” asked a sleepy Son 1 aged 5y 2m. “Next door,” I said. “You can come if you want.” It was past 5am, and I figured I was so tired that I’d fall asleep deeply, they’d fall asleep deeply and then we’d all get a lie in.  I lay in the middle. Son 2 was lightly asleep. Son 1 eyebrowed me madly.   And still I couldn’t sleep. I must have in the end, because Son 2’s chatter woke me. “Get me out!” I couldn’t lift my head from the pillow. “Son 1, go and unzip Son 2’s sleeping bag.” “I can’t. I can’t do the zip.” “You can do zips. Go and let him out.” Son 1 tried. He couldn’t. “Oh just leave him then.” “Waaaaaaaa!”  I unzipped it. Son 2 reached for the light switch. “No! If you want the light on, go somewhere else.” They both slid away. I heard them unwrapping plastic on the landing. The Sweet Shop.

The Man did the Sweet Shop, and I stayed in bed. He brought me coffee at 0845. The Sweet Shop – full of jelly tots, dolly mixtures and wine gums – had been removed and put away.  Son 1 stomped up and down with the box. “We want our Sweet Shop back.”  We did a deal. I took out the sweets, and replaced them with Cheerios,  pine nuts, cubes of cheese, cubes of apple and hula hoops.  I put raisins and Coco Pop balls in the little jars. This was the new sweet shop.  It all went. Except the pine nuts.  On the phone to Granny, Son 1 laughed. “We’ve got a new sweet shop only we haven’t sold any sweets. We just eated them up.”  The rain hammered down. I put on my New York Marathon 2002 gilet and went running. Wet and splashy. I am now running 5 mins, walking 2.5 mins, four times.  One of my walking sections took me to the Rock Pool Beach, so down I went. The waves were loud, the rain was falling, there were piles of sodden, sopping seaweed everywhere. Just a few dog walkers and me. 

When I came back The Man had made a stew for tea and the children were still watching telly. We took them out for a walk and some air, came back, had lunch, watched more telly. Then we went into The Town for the Christmas Lights switch on.  Lanterns, children, street hawkers, Santa, and rain. Lots of rain. Son 1 went shyly up to Santa, who gave him a sweet. “Can I have one for Son 2 please? He’s my little brother.” He was given another. Son 2 was asleep. Son 1 ate it. At the end of the evening, when Son 2 was awake, we saw Santa again and again, he dished out chocolates. ”I daw Nan Ta,” Son 2 said over and over. “What do you want Santa to bring you, Son 2?” I asked. ”An An”  “Animals?” “Yes.” ”What sort of animals?” “Tye Tye. I like Tye Tye.”  Pity. Santa’s already  bought him a farm.

My kitchen is a place which, at this time of year, is the scene of magical happenings.  (It also sees diabolical disasters, but this post is not about those.) The main magical happening is really that I am compelled, on dark, cold autumn evenings when I should be in front of the telly watching Sharpe re-runs on the Yesterday channel, to spend hours in the kitchen cooking stuff to fill my cupboards for winter.  Strange but true, and I even enjoy it.

My kitchen is small – about ten square metres in all, give or take, but with all the essential stuff in it, and a good variety of cooking pots.  It’s nice retreating there to do cooking for fun as opposed to the obligatory stuff. Last night, for example,  I made chutney, and although I am of course way too Northern to be overly mystical, I have to tell you that among the ingredients were five large cooking apples, plucked fresh from the tree in a rain storm.  Had the other ingredients been of a similar ilk, I might have been muttering  ”Fire burn and cauldron bubble!” as I was stirring the pot, but the two nets of tomatoes on buy one get one free from Morrisons kept me grounded.

Despite the lack of incantation, and very unexotic tomatoes, the magic still worked and my winter stores are now supplemented with three jars of splendid tomato (and apple) chutney.  It  seems though that the rainstorm is forecast to last all weekend and there are plenty more apples on the tree.  Will there be more magic to come?  Maybe so, I’ll be checking if Sharpe’s on first next time though.

The rain cloud we walked into late morning moved quickly out to sea.

Sometimes things just come together out of the blue, as was the case with what happened the day we filmed this video. I didn’t really have high hopes when we were first assigned this concert profile on a Puerto Rican musician who I’ve never heard of before, and when I woke up on the day the concert was to happen, I looked outside and was even more disheartened. For those in California who remember, there was this huge rainstorm that lasted all day on Oct. 13. It knocked over trees and caused quite a bit of damage around Davis and the Sacramento area. I decided that I would skip my first class, since I wanted to avoid any traffic that would be caused by people swerving on the freeway and such. Plus, I also wasn’t really sure if I wanted to go to school at all, since I didn’t really want to drive all the way to Sacramento in that weather.

Somehow, I got the courage to drive to school. The concert was scheduled for 12pm at one of the big auditorium rooms in the science buildings. I wasn’t too surprised when I got there to see that not too many people were present. It being City College, plus the hellish weather outside, probably meant that the students in attendance were either really desperate for extra-credit in one of their classes, or just wanted a warm place to be for lunch, and maybe like 2 die-hard fans.

The music she played wasn’t really my cup of tea, but it was enjoyable enough that I didn’t get too bored.

After the concert, we waited around for her to give us an interview. A few people were really taking their time talking to her, so the event organizer, Professor Riad Bahhur, told us to help him take some equipment back to his office and then we’ll meet up with her at the cafeteria later. I was a little anxious to leave, just because I was getting cold and I didn’t bring the right jacket so I was getting soaked and it wasn’t drying off. But, I decided to tough it out and see where this would take us.

I originally just wanted to do a really quick interview after the concert, asking a few simple questions and such. But, when we met up with her at the cafeteria, we went into one of the back rooms and conducted a pretty deep interview.

We filled up an entire card with footage from the concert and interview, and the vast majority of it was totally awesome. It was a little hard to edit it down to one short video, so we decided to make two; one being the profile, another being just a full song to give people a glimpse of her voice.

I was ultra-pleased with the results of this video once it was completed. Being that I didn’t plan on it being this expansive of a video, it was pleasantly satisfying. Goes to show how sticking with something out really does pay off.

Profile vid:

Full song “Homenaje a Mercedes Sosa”:

With Mr. Williams’ Mentor to

    one ninety-four and

  the window cracked to

      wet leaves, drippy gutters, and

  rustlings in the nest across

      the driveway, I try to

    read interestedly, but

        find that Mr. Keats stumbles as

    the rain taps the portico or

        the moist summer wafts in.

          My book discarded, I move to

              the window and

            watch the ablution.

                               -Douglas Cavers

Before they got to play football on the Plains on Saturday, as Forrest Gump would say, God showed up. Evacuation announcements and delays ensued. Lots of wetness. The students didn’t seem to mind at all. FEMA may have been called. Not to mention a pretty entertaining game, complete with fireworks, after monsoon ended. A few photos of the Auburn deluge after the jump…

After this game, the tailgate guys will be providing ponchos and sides to the tents…for an extra charge, of course.

Tailgating in a flood zone.

The parking deck =shelter from the storm.

You have to look stylish even when wearing rain boots.

Monsoon.

UPDATE: Here’s one more video taken from the student section…while singing “Have you ever seen the rain?”…

Jennifer & William had a gorgeous wedding on Long Island at the Pine Hollow Country Club. Their elegant affair was dramatically puncuated by a (small) thunderstorm that began during the exchange of rings and made a beautiful wedding even more memorable. Thanks for letting me be a part of your wedding!

Murphy’s Law is alive and well.  Friday was the first day of a festival that my friend, Babs, and I had been long awaiting.  When we met for breakfast, it was misting, but we weren’t worried.  The weatherman had said we might have a brief shower early, but it would quickly disappear.  When we were on the highway, it was lightly sprinkling, but still, we had faith.  After we had parked, it was overcast, but we were able to make it into one of several large craft tents.  We no sooner got inside than a gentle rain began to fall.  We were busy looking around as the rain went from gentle to steady to deluge!  When we were ready to go to the next tent, we made out way to one of the exits, where the rain looked like Niagara Falls!  This was the kind of rain that could break an umbrella!  This was the kind of rain that began to beat through tiny holes in the tent’s ceiling, causing random splashes on peoples’ heads – mine for one!  No one dared venture outside the tent.

So here we were, in a humid, drippy tent with about 100 other people, not all of whom bathe regularly.  Can you spell B.O.?  Never mind, I just did it for you.  I had forgotten how gagging that smell can be!  Believe me, I don’t recommend it!  So here we are on this day when we were supposed to be having all sorts of carefree fun, penned in like cattle in this hellhole, with babies squalling, bad breath, rancid sweat (not ours) and water torture!  Whoopee.  We finally decided to brave it, sharing one umbrella, and still got soaked as we made our way to the next tent.  But, something had gone out of the experience.  We stayed a little longer and then made our way home, the rain following us all the way.  Oh well, maybe next year…

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My friend, Francie, sent me this Color Test which is supposed to be good mental exercise, especially for aging brains.  But, I’d say it’s a good test for any brain!  It presents a real struggle between your left brain and right brain.  It also challenges you to get 100% the first time.  AS. IF!   I read the directions carefully and determined that I’d focus and just ace the thing!  Uh, it didn’t exactly work out that way.  Oh, I finally got 100%, but don’t ask me how many times I had to do it because I’m not telling.

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I woke up Saturday morning early, as is my habit, and glanced out my second-story bedroom window to see if the newspaper had been thrown.  Something was off.  Then it struck me.  All the street  lights on my block were out!  It was weird!  I hurriedly dressed and went outside.  You know, I think we all tend to take streetlights for granted.  I know I must, because it was so pitch black out there that it was almost unfamiliar. It was dark and foggy and eerie and I expected to see Jack the Ripper at any moment.  I even stood out there awhile, but he never showed.  Just like a man!

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And finally, I came across this site of optical illusions by Michael Bach.  They are varied and really fascinating.  There are plenty to see here, so be prepared to spend some time, and enjoy!

******************************

That’s all for now.  Have a good one!

As this solo project is taking shape, I am learning a bit more about the technology – that samw www you all appreciate!  Search for ‘rainstorm” on YouTube and you get some chorus groups singing, but also some major storms recorded.  It seems that major storms are generally in either summer or winter months.

The first two I found were both floods in Scorpio, Leaf/Water Constellations. The next two were in Root/Earth Constellations, and there are another 300 videos to review. 

As you may recall,  last June and July, Twitter search for “Downpour” has given similar statistical results around the cusps of Leaf/Water and Root/Earth Constellations.  I am able to find exceptions occasionally;  do these ‘Prove the Rule?’

How much information needs to be collected before meteorologists will start using the Biodynamic Calendar?  And then other scientists, like agronomists and veterniarians.  If wine tastes and sells better in Leaf/Water Constellations, then how much longer before even diets adjust with the Moon?

The other day, Husband and I returned from our daily walk. We were cold, wet and covered in mud and . . . there was no water. It wasn’t a broken water pump or a dead pigeon blocking the pipe: our tank was OUT OF WATER.

Running out of water in the Waitakeres is something akin to running out of sand in the desert or porn on the Internet or bacteria in a chippie. In other words: so improbable as to be statistically impossible.

“But didn’t you check the water level when you cleaned the filter?” I wailed, desperately – yet cunningly. This was a fell blow on two counts: not only administering a verbal Chinese burn for being out of water, but also suggestive that Husband was not cleaning the filter on a monthly basis.

Which he wasn’t.

Hey, it’s not MY job. Husband and I have clearly delineated duties. I am responsible for cooking, grocery shopping, book-keeping, timely coffee supply, phoning, dog maintenance, dishwashing, mopping, dusting, laundry including ironing and clothespegs, picture framing and Christmas/birthday cards. When I say Husband is responsible for everything else, well. Not to be dismissive, but there’s not much left: car and bike maintenance, laptop support, general DIY, any soldering and/or welding, garbage relocation, fencing, water blasting, and monthly cleaning of the goddamn water filter.

When we first moved into the house, the tank was sourced by the creek. However, several sources – some of them reliable – had it that possum piss is hazardous to human health, so Husband rerouted runoff from the roof. Cursory investigation revealed the inlet pipe to the tank had come away from the gutters.

I didn’t want to order a tank of water, because – quite apart from the cost – it would undoubtedly spark a rainstorm that would rage for months, causing rivers to burst their banks, driving innocent Aucklanders from their homes and flooding farms. That’s what happened shortly after moving into the house, when after weeks of drought, we ordered a tank of water. Whereupon it rained solidly for the next three days.

So Husband reaffixed the inlet pipe, in addition to collecting water from the creek. For days, I have boiled water to wash dishes, instead of wasting water by running the hot tap; I did not run the shower before getting in (chilly); I have brushed my teeth in half a cup of water; laundry has piled up in the garage.

But today Husband was out water blasting the MR2, so I guess our crisis is over.

Either that, or it was an emergency

Seen after a rapid downburst rainshower this afternoon.  The yellows and greens glowed in that strange, grey, after-storm light.  All the world looks lit from within — and also intensely private.  Introspective and mysterious, like a woman eight months pregnant.

There is something sacred going on here.

I’m going to be quiet now.

love you smell :: Olivia Jeffries

The changing of seasons is undoubtably one of the most gracious pieces of the human expereince. A new schedule,weather system, and line up of vegetables re-energizes me. My heart lends itself to the blank slate of a new time, and is inspired to re-examine and re-explore places that have gotton lost in the hot, dragging on of summer days.

This new season includes much time to be in both the ceramics and the painting studio. I feel room to explore the dirty walls and really try to make something beautiful. I did not engage the visual arts much this summer, but much like riding a bike, I remembered quickly how it all works and how much I dearly love the process::

The smell of mineral spirits and oil paint. The way my body aches after wedging clay and throwing pots. The continual messiness that is my hair, face, clothing, car, etc. An excuse to go to Porch’s Art supplies and dream about what gorgeous paper or new shades of color can be transformed into. Late nights leaving campus, wandering into the starlit night with deep satisfaction. Granola and water and coffee for many meals. The quiet of self and the gentle interactions with classmates and professors.

This is a space and time that I love. The rain came down hard last night, with thunder and lightening that are special to Oklahoma skies. The porch held us graciously with its twinkle lights and wine. In our hearty conversation and honest confessions we welcomed in the unknown days, the shift of season, and the hope of something more whole.

It’s funny. I hadn’t seen WOODSTOCK in its entirety in probably over 20 years. I had watched performance clips on Youtube and, of course, remember certain moments and statements and “characters” from the film, but I had completely forgotten what an absolute masterful piece of cinema it was. WOODSTOCK is so much more than a compilation of musical performances. And what’s frightening is how easily the film could have been shot or reduced to that very thing if it had fallen into the hands of different filmmakers other than the team that ultimately defied the impossible and brought this film to life.

Director Michael Wadleigh, along with a ragtag team of some of the best documentary cameramen and women ever assembled, ace editor Thelma Schoonmaker and a very young editor and assistant director, Martin Scorsese, managed to work through some of the most difficult circumstances imaginable to capture the entire experience that was WOODSTOCK.

We all know the basic story: They expected between 150,000 to 200,000 people max to attend. They ended up with over half a million. A small city. No one was prepared. But that didn’t matter. From audience to performers to coordinators, everyone worked in unison to pull off an event that was almost entirely peaceful and cooperative. And people from all over came to help with medical attention, food, shelter, whatever was needed to turn this state of emergency into one of the greatest events ever successfully undertaken. It truly was an unintended statement to the world at large. It was proof of something better, a way of thinking, a way of being. It wasn’t just artifice, but a sampling of humanity. It was a living alternative. And everything that was said and done then, still resonates today.

And the film puts you right smack in the middle of it all. But it does so with a unique and powerful vision. Shot entirely on 16mm, the film was designed for and released in the 70mm format. Quite a leap. But Wadleigh and team pulled it off with some of the most daring split screen opticals ever seen. Suddenly, the stories within the story start to appear. What is being said or done on one side of the frame is being commented on, visually and otherwise, on the other. And the performances are each approached with a unique individuality to best capture the feel and flavor of the music, the performers, the environment in which they were playing and the audience to whom they were playing for. It wasn’t just about capturing the music, it was about becoming part of the whole event. Thanks to the visionary talents of the folks behind the cameras and in the editing room, WOODSTOCK the film doesn’t just show you the event, it is an elemental part of the event. And because of that, we are as well.

A great example is the CANNED HEAT segment of the film. One camera, one take. It’s a testament to Wadleigh’s eye, fluid camerawork and sense of the music (he was the handheld camera operator for this particular shot) and the great restraint and vision of the editors. It’s a powerhouse moment that personalizes the performers and the environment around them. Around us. There is no desire on the part of the filmmakers to disguise the fact that they are there. They are as much a part of what is happening on that stage as the band members themselves.

Then there’s THE WHO. Suddenly, we find ourselves with three separate frames within our single 70mm frame. The juxtaposition of images, many simply duplicates reversed to create a moving, breathing bookend to the center image, offer us not only different angles on the performers and crowd, but enhance–nay, recreate–the psychedelic and energetic nature of the music itself. It’s an all-absorbing journey deep into the psyche of the adventure that was taking place on Max Yasgur’s unsuspecting farm that evening. It is as much a visual feast of great complexity and wonder as it is a testament to the band’s unmatched musicianship and tirelessly vital performance.

And after each band completes their set, we return once again to the ongoing saga happening behind the scenes. Be it one hell of a rainstorm that nearly stopped the show in its tracks, or the thoughts, fears, hopes and dreams of the people attending, or the amazement, horror or joy of the local townsfolk at witnessing the behavior of their new neighbors, or the social impact one senses the event is already starting to have long before its conclusion is in sight, WOODSTOCK cinematically captures a world that is, in many ways, still with us.

While the “hippie” movement and Summer Of Love have faded into history, the remnants of those recent times have been absorbed into our everyday society, our very way of life. Health food stores have grown into chains, yoga is now as commonplace as school, spirituality has moved into new regions where the choices are endless and mainstream. It’s a far cry from the world that those who attended Woodstock may have envisioned, but changes were made nonetheless. Yeah, we still have wars and we moved into an age of greed and consumership that reflects the fear and confusion inherent in all societies and we still exhibit some of our puritanical roots, but we also have rallies and protests and the ability to call our leaders out and ask for something better. These are all things that were validated and given life in these times and the times that came before.

While there are many who believe the movement was misguided, short-lived and, ultimately, a failure, one has only to look around to see the effects it has had on the world in which we live. And the music that reflected the era, that spoke to a generation and beyond, is still some of the most powerful and heartfelt musical expression to be seen or heard anywhere throughout our long history. And WOODSTOCK the film shows us that in all its shades of light and dark. One need only witness the performances by Janis Joplin or Jimi Hendrix to understand and realize that there were geniuses in our midsts. And I do not throw that word around lightly. These were men and women who tapped into something rare, that segment of humanity who grace us with their inner voice, with a talent that belies their youthfulness, with a form of expression that deeply touches the soul of man and reveals it, naked and for all to see, with exquisite delicacy and wonder.

WOODSTOCK: THE DIRECTOR’S CUT is part of that revelation. And I am grateful for its existence. Both for its cultural value, its spiritual value, and its extreme artistic value, which I was far too young to comprehend when last I viewed the film. It is a place I hope to return to again and again. And next time, perhaps, I will take some others with me.

There was a brief but somewhat scary rain storm yesterday. The clouds were very foreboding and the lightning was amazing.

Our family was really excited about camping this last weekend. Andrew and I giggled about it all week. I felt like a six year old counting down to Christmas morning. It turned out to be a very memorable weekend.

Friday:

9:00 am- The plan was to take Axel to swimming lessons, take myself to the dr. for a regular ob checkup and then head out. When we woke up it was raining which was a bummer but we were not going to let it get us down!

12:45 pm – Cheri slips and falls in wet garage on the way to the dr. Dr. decides we better do an ultrasound to check on everything. Leaving gets pushed back 3 1/2 hours. Thankfully all is fine.

6:30 pm  – We finally arrive at the campground. Still raining. Get set up and eat a really late supper. Off to bed.

1:00 am – It has been raining all night. Really storming. Loud thunder and bright lightning. Miracle asks mommy if we could please go home. The new tent from my dad keeps us nice and dry. (mostly)

3:00 am – The constant dripping on the tent is not doing so well for my pregnant bladder. I finally give in and trek to the bathroom. It is dark and wet but at least the rain has stopped.

Saturday

8:00 am – Another big storm rolls on in. We get in the car and go out for breakfast. There is only so much fun you can have in the rain with two small children.

12:30 pm – The rain has stopped and we decide to have some lunch. It suddenly is very sunny (and very humid). Eat lunch and get ready to go to the beach. Unfortunately momma bear (that’s me) is not feeling well at all. We go to the beach and swim and fish all afternoon. After a short nap on shore and a quick dip in the cool water I am feeling much better. Miracle did manage to step on the extremely hot metal of the dock and burn her little feet though. Poor baby.

5:00 pm – Get back to the campsite and eat campfire pies in another sudden outburst of rain.

6:30 pm – It is gorgous again. Enjoy tacos with our church family and then go down to the river for two baptisms. YEAH!

9:00 pm – Axel lays down to take a ‘nap’. He has an extremely bad headache.

9:01 pm – Tornado Sirens go off. The park rangers come by honking their horn and yelling through a mega phone. “Tornado Warning. Everyone to the bathroom.” Fun. We instead get in the car and drive five miles to a friends house where we wait out the storm.

11:00 pm – Storm is over. Everyone is safe. Praise the Lord. We climb into our tents and have an uneventful night.

Sunday

Ate breakfast, had church, packed up, and went home.

It is so amazing to me that with all that happened we still had an amazing time. The kids cried when it was time to go home and none of us has much of a negative feeling towards the weekend. I feel sad for Axel because he was so looking forward to camping and he didn’t get to experience it as much as he could have. It was still wonderful although next time I am praying for a little better weather!

Card of the Day:

Happy Thanksgiving

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Hear the sounds of a summer rainstorm – drizzle, then showers come down harder, a torrent complete with thunder and lightning – and as quick as it arrived, the storm dies down. All of these sounds and others a cappella by the vocal group Perpetuum Jazzile from Slovenia as they perform Toto’s Africa. This water-based viral video is lovely. Thanks to EnviroTalk for passing this one along.

Late afternoon and Filey’s turn for a shower. It caught us on the Country Park so we sheltered in the old pavilion for ten or fifteen minutes. Here it is leaving for Europe.

Owen Pallett…what a freaking musician. This is epic. Check out 4:21 when amidst the lightning and torrential downpours the stage manager tries to stop Pallett, only to be shut down: “let me finish the song!” Cue the audience eruption.

When I left Ise on Saturday it was sunny. I didn’t bring an umbrella. When the train went through Matsusaka, it was raining cats and dogs. I got off the train in Tsu. A friend offered to lend me an umbrella. Because the rain stopped, I returned the umbrella.

Five minutes later a rainstorm started. I stood under a store awning for about 20 minutes. When the rain stopped, I continued walking.

I felt very silly for not borrowing the umbrella.

1.  Palava

2.  Pyjamas

3.  Perfidy

I am back online, hooray hooray. Got knocked out in a rainstorm. Palava. Now sorted.  In summary: The Man went on Business Trip; Granny and Granddad here; Wednesday Friend is now 5, which means a rack of 5th birthdays coming up;  The Man back from Business Trip; Nanna babysat while Granny, Granddad, The Man and I went out for a meal at Nice Restaurant.

And here I am.  Not even a particularly Good Day to come back on. I left early, and did a Big Shop so got back late. Hardly saw the boys.  I doubled parked to unload the shopping.  A little figure aged 22m, in pyjamas was standing in the 2nd floor window, the blackout blind pulled down behind him, looking down at me.   I waved.  He looked and looked. I heaved the shopping out on to the pavement, I heaved the first bags into the house. Son 1 aged 4y 10m pelted downstairs, also in pyjamas. “Mummee, Mummee.”  The Man came down with Son 2. “I need to park the car,” I said. “You have him and I’ll park the car,” he said, dumping Son 2 into my arms. ”They’ve both had their baths and Son 1’s cleaned his teeth but Son 2 hasn’t.” At least that’s what I thought he said. 

“Son 1, come here and I’ll clean your teeth.” “They’re clean. You need to do Son 2’s.”  I sat Son 2 on my knee and carefully cleaned his teeth.  He has a cut lip.  The Man came back. “Why are you cleaning his teeth?” He said. “I’ve done them. It’s Son 1 who needs doing.” Son 1 cackled in delight. “I got you!”  It was Book Club night for me and Son 1.  He has as many books as he likes. He chose his entire Disney set. I got away with 11, because we’ve lost The Incredibles.

We’ve all heard groups of people do the clapping rainstorm thing, but this one is kinda unique and used as an intro to a song.  Very cool.

Brian

****EXCITING UPDATE! I FOUND A PICTURE: http://bit.ly/6SZU8 (see below for details)****

It has been over a week since my last post, which is partly due to the fact that I was at the Oregon Country Fair. It was probably the longest period of time that my computer spent actually off. It’s nice to get away from technology for a while. OCF always reminds me of living simple and carefree. Getting back into the real world afterwards is always a bit disappointing and stressful. That may have something to do with why I haven’t posted until now. I may go into detail about my Fair experience this year in this post, or I may not. There are just a lot of personal feelings and emotions that I am hesitant to share. As most of you who know me know, I am a rather introverted person—a clam, if you will.

I am continuing this post after a few days of letting it sit with only the text above this line.

I’ve kinda lost the magic of OCF once again, as expected. I don’t know how this keeps happening. It is now just a collection of lovely (and bittersweet) memories that continue to lose their tangibility. Well, while I still have them, I might as well explain the above vagueness.

On the second day of Fair, I went out to see the first show of the day at Main stage, which was a group who are friends with some of the people who work in the booth with me. The Shook Twins, to be specific. The band currently consists of these two young women who, as stated, are twins, and a couple of guys, one of which plays the cello, and the other plays the bass. They are quite something. Anyway, while I was there, a very pretty hippie girl caught my eye. She was up front dancing and seemed to know the words. I’m not sure it what it was about her that was so alluring, but she just was something to see. She wasn’t necessarily remarkable, but she stood out to me. She is probably one of the only people I have ever seen with blond dreadlocks who I have been attracted to. Something about her eyes really amazed me too.

I didn’t think too much of it at that point.

However, the next day (Sunday), she came to our booth and ordered a fruit salad. I was mildly pleased, but not terribly surprised. Just about then, the rain (which had been steadily getting worse) began to pour. And did it. So much so that she was forced to take shelter in our booth. This is when I really began to take an interest. Here she was, this amazingly attractive hippie girl, just leaning on one of our counters, eating her fruit salad with her hands as she watched the rain. Of course I, being who I am, made no immediate move to approach her in any way. It wasn’t until a little while later when she asked who was playing at Main stage that day (we can always hear the shows from our booth, being about 50 yards away) that I talked to her. I mentioned that I could grab the Peach Pit (the OCF paper/schedule thing), did so, and we ended up looking at the shows. We exchanged a few more words before I got distracted by the water pooling on the plastic covering the booth and had to address that. She hung around for a little while longer, during which we exchanged a couple smiles, but then disappeared at one point.

Later that day (it was still raining a couple hours later), I was standing out at the front of our booth, considering wandering into the mud, when she passed by. We greeted each other and I explained that I was just about ready to put on some swim shorts and venture out into the mud. Again, a few more words were said, and then she headed off again.

A little while later, I did in fact change and went out to Main stage to listen to the performers, who happened to be Heavyweight Dub Champion and were the first electronic band to perform at the Country Fair. They were rather cool. I went out and stood in the (now light) rain and watched. As I was watching, my eyes came across this girl again, dancing out in the crowd. She eventually saw me too and smiled. At this point, I took off the jacket I was wearing and began to dance a little. This is very strange behavior for me, since I rarely dance, but I guess it was just something to do with this girl that got me to come out of my shell a little. Eventually, I began to dance in earnest (in the rain!) and really enjoy it. At some point, she actually wandered over and commented on the fact that I had actually ventured out finally and began to dance nearby. Of course, this made me a bit nervous because I have absolutely no idea how to approach women, let alone on a dance floor (well, mud field, in this case). I ended up kinda just dancing in place and watching her (not to stalker-like, I hope) as she danced. I really just wanted to go over and dance with her, but couldn’t get up the courage. Eventually, she moved away to join her friends again. I continued to dance until the show finally finished (it was the last of the day) and the crowd dispersed.

As it was clearing, she actually waved at me across the field, and I waved back. This made me very happy. Unfortunately, this is basically the end of it. I could probably have gone and asked her her name (I really wish I had), but again, it didn’t happen. [insert heavy sigh here]

Anyway, I didn’t see her at all the next day and haven’t since. All I can hope for is that I see her next year again.

**Update: I was finally able to find a picture of her, which makes me feel both excited and slightly stalker-ish. Here is the link again in case you didn’t see it the first time. All I’m really asking is to find out her name.

Well, slightly depressing things aside, I really enjoyed Fair again this year, especially Sunday night when I visited the Ritz. Of course, there were tons of people there due to the cold, mud, and rain, so that the place was packed. The sauna was almost full to max most of the time, but I still was able to go between the sauna, the cold shower, the fire and the sauna again about three times, which was amazing. [insert very satisfied sigh here]

So yeah, that was my Fair this year. I even finally gave Jason Webley a hug and offered him a few scant words. It was satisfying.

In other news, I started my ecology class today (well, yesterday, now), which I think is going to be pretty fun. We’re going to Mt. Pisgah today for a couple hours. I’m looking forward to it. Also, sleep is in order.

Some of the music I was listening to while writing this:

Jason Webley – Against the Night
some of the music from the Cave Story soundtrack
Die Prinzen – Mein bester Freund