Hey Jakey,

That's The Gourds at the CBC night before last. Picked up C at the Incline office after work, and she had had a pretty shitty day, and was kinda laughing/crying hysterically as we headed over. First we had dinner at the Biltmore (she had nachos and I had a patty melt), then back across the street to the CBC for the show.

I love The Gourds, and have for quite a few years. They're a big deal, at least to the people who listen to the kind of music I listen to. Anyway, I can't for the life of me figure out why they would be *opening* for some jam band called Hot Buttered Rum String Band. The crowd was rife with local jam band devotees, and there's a LOT of them in Tahoe. I kinda shut down when the girls with dirty blond dreadlocks and prairie dresses start spinning. I'm sure jam band music is pretty good stuff, but I just can't get past the fans associated with it. Same with reggae.

So, spinning girls aside, The Gourds put on a great show. They played a lot of stuff off the new album, which I haven't lived with long enough to be familiar with; I only bought it a couple of days ago. That middle picture is confetti. For some odd reason, the owner of the club was there, blasting off a confetti cannon every so often. I realized then and there that confetti is an instant party, and more acts should employ confetti cannons in their shows. F&C were there, as per usual, and I ran into the gal who used to do the job that I used to do, before I did it? I went to shake her hand, which is what I do, and she grabbed me in a big hug. Reminds me of my favorite line so far from Gray's Anatomy...

Christina (being hugged by a temp doctor): "Owww! Oww! Owwww!
Temp Doctor: "Oh, I'm sorry! Am I hurting you?"
Christina: "No, you're *touching* me!

I know, I know... It's my own hang-up, being touched. I don't mind you and daddy and my friends touching me, or even my hairdresser, now that I've found a decent one... but I have a zone, ferchrissakes! This is why I'll never have a professional massage.

Daddy's behind me babbling away. He was just talking about how cold it's been getting at night. I told him we should do what the settlers did back in the Old West: bring a hot potato to bed, wrapped in a tea towel. Here is what he replied:

"If I had a hot potato, I'd *eat* it."

I don't know why that struck me as funny. I mean, I'm still chuckling. He's a funny guy, you're daddy. Or I'm strange for thinking he's funny.

Anyway, the Gourds show. Great show, bought a CD from the accordion player, who was running the merch table afterwards. At least I think he was. He was hanging out by the table and I gave him money and took a CD... Hmmmmm. But as soon as Hot Buttered Rum took the stage, C and I were way in the back at the bar, and settled in for the rest of the evening, for drinks and deep conversation. Well, what passes for deep conversation when you have to shout at the top of your lungs directly into the other's ear. I maintained a sane amount of bourbon-and-diets, before heading home at about 1 a.m.

So, given my above attitude about jam bands and their followers, I'm torn about this:



I mean, look at that. Son Volt, Nickel Creek, MMJ. That's STELLAR. But also: Umphrey's, Bela Fleck and Robert Walter, all jam bands extraordinaire. This is only about an hour and a half from my house, I should go, even if it's for one day. But all those unwashed spinning hippies baking in the high-altitude sun... the notion churns my stomach. We'll see, we have a few months to think about it. But... if Jay can do it... I can probably rustle up the fortitude to make a showing.

You, little man, are in big trouble. We got up this morning to take you to your doctor's appointment, the two-year well-baby check up. I got the day off and everything so I could go with you and daddy. We all got ready and got there on time, but maybe a bit early. Try ONE WHOLE WEEK early. Your appt's not until next Friday. But I swear, that's what the receptionist told me over the phone: "We'll see you Friday at 11:45!" What-EV-er. We took the opportunity to go out for Chinese and peruse Blockbuster.

Camper tomorrow night! Ugh, there goes my tummy, thinking about it. I'm so damned excited I'm making myself ill about it. This will actually be the shortest distance I've ever driven to see them. Just up the hill at Harrah's. Gah!

Well, I have to go wake you up from your super-late nap and feed you some dinner. Love you!!!