But then

I was going to give you the VonBro wedding recap, but my work day turned to major scheize. So You'll have to wait another day. Spend your free time cursing really stupid people for me, would ya? Thanks

Back to the Brau Haus

Friday night found me hanging out at the BrauHaus. We were there to celebrate TheMarty's birthday. Funny thing, BrauHaus is the first place I met TheMarty. I was sooo much nicer that time!! Dinner was at 8:00, a little late for dinner, I thought, but that's ok. It gave me time to take a quick Friday afternoon nap. Got to the restaurant first - what a shock. Table was set for way more people than I had thought would be there. People trickled in, and by 8:45 we were ready to order. I had me some yummy Thuringer and some spaetzle. I guess a lot of people ordered that, from the looks of things. There was much drinking. I actually had planned to not drink, due to StepBro's wedding the next day, but when it became clear that the bill was going to be split evenly, I ordered a beer. Here's the thing. Generally, when I am with really good friends, OR if I am with a larger group and we are all drinking about the same, I don't mind splitting the bill. However When there's a dozen people I don't know and/or these people are all drinking liters upon liters upon liters of beer, and I'm having Sprite, how it is even possible to have the cajones to ask me to split the bill?? I wtf that in a big way. But It was TheMarty's birthday, so I shelled out quite a bit of cash for my pop and hot dogs. **I don't want to say how much, as TheMarty reads my blog** I kinda let it roll off me then, but I'm still a little miffed about it. I planned for the evening, I didn't go into it with $3 in my wallet and some lint. But still. A fun evening. I got to be catty/bitchy to one of Shannon's friends who deserved it. I tried to talk to one guy. Turns out I'm not allowed to talk to that guy. Um, ok. So Good restaurant, good food, I hope TheMarty had a nice time. Movin' on.

Going back to go forward

My weekend was so fantastic, that I think I can make a week's worth of posts about it. But. I have to start with my Friday afternoon. SO I had a summer day Friday, which is supposed to mean NO work. Out of the goodness of my little heart, I logged on mid-morning to get some things done for LB1 (Chicago boss) and LB2 (LA Boss). LB2 was on vacation, and she had something big going on, so I wanted to help out with that. Well, one thing led to another, and I started doing all kinds of things. I got annoyed with both myself and my co-workers. So, not only did I log out, but I left the house to get work out of my mind. After running some errands, I decided to stop by my last place of employment. Um What a hovel. They have moved three doors down from the last location that I worked in. The new space was tiny, with only one office, a closet of a lunch room, a small "conference room" and one bathroom. Ick. The conference room had my old desk in it, but now it was covered with ashes and loaded down with crap, and ashtrays (I mean, is it 1976? that people can smoke in the workplace?), and more crap. I walked around they very small warehouse, and noticed how bare the shelves were. Part numbers started getting my attention. It's been just over three years, but I can see what problems the have, and the dark hole they seem to be headed into. I went into the office to visit my old co-worker J. There was a memorial poem and mass card on the wall for our co-worker who had been murdered by her husband in the last year that I was with the company. I had (almost) forgotten about her, and her sad fate. There were also cards that J had kept after the death of her boyfriend, who was another co-worker and friend who had died suddenly while in traveling for work. This also happened in my last year at that job. I was reminded how sad we all were, losing two co-workers and friends within six months of each other. I was reminded how I myself used to smoke like a chimney - yes, sometimes at my desk - at that job. Especially when I worked 12 hour days in the summer and the winter. I was reminded that I was miserable and feeling trapped and knowing I was in no way living up to my best potential there. I stayed for about 45 minutes, in which a few people let me know that even now, my old boss P would love to have me back, and in fact says that every now and then. I let J know that by no means could that company afford me. Sure, that job let me wear shorts in the summer and sweatpants in the winter. True, it was a seven minute drive from my house. I do, though, miss the people there. When you work somewhere for 10 years with pretty much the same core people, you come to care about them. We weathered tragedies, our company being sold, then bought, then sold and bought again, successes, failures, crazy people, great people........I do miss them. These are the only good things I think of that place. I said my good byes and got in my car. I looked around the nasty dirty little industrial park that I called second home for 10 years, 4 months and a few days. I wondered how we ever ate out lunch, where did we go? Did we just order in? There's nothing over there! As I drove away, I called LB1, who was at home. "Hello?" "LB1?" "Yeah?" "I just have to thank you for hiring me away from that shit hole three years ago. Like really. Like thank you thank you thank you." "?" "I mean, I'm so much better than that place!" "?" Sometimes to know how much we've changed, we need to revisit where we had been.

Swell season - Into the mystic - a fantastic show

So, last night was hot. Super hot. Like sitting in the pavilion at Ravinia, just sitting, and sweat was just running down me.

But

My goodness. Swell Season. I adore them, have for a long time, but I got so much more than I was expecting.

Glen was very cutely mis-pronouncing Cicadas, he called them "Cicasias". He knew it was wrong, but he just ran with it.

They sang the above, which is one of my favorite songs ever.

At the end of the first part (pre-encore, I guess), Glen called out the ushers. He asked that they let the lawn-sitting folks come into the pavilion. He was pretty adamant about it. So, even though it was very likely a fire hazard, it happened. Now, we were pavilion folk, and even I was happy and impressed that that happened. What a great experience for those people. Good for him.

So, aside from the Ravinia usual suspects (= entitled, snobby, asshole, ill-behaved suburbanites) I had a lovely time.

** for those of you unfamiliar with Ravinia - it's an outdoor festival grounds in Highland Park, IL. They have a small pavilion with assigned seats, and a gigantic massive lawn for seating and listening. There are speakers everywhere, and rumor has it the pavilion is accoustically perfect. It's really beautiful, filled with trees and flowers and art and fountains. There are a couple high end restaurants, and a few food courts. Most people bring picnic dinners and wine. Lots and lots of wine. Google it - it's a beautiful place.

Folk and Roots Wrap up!

Ah, Folk and Roots, how I love thee. Like, a LOT. Like way more than pretty much anything else I do every summer. Things I hated about F&R:

• Only three friends visited me. Y'all are lame.
• PBR. Bleh. Even free, it's bleh.
• Rain is good, but not when it cancels the last band Sunday night!
• A little too hot. Like sweat under my boobs hot. Bleh.
• The stupid vol who dared to call me a bitch, but then ran away like a scared little school girl. Bitch, I've got your number. And please note that the volunteer coordinator heard you, and you're kinda in trouble. Stupid.
• The lingerers. Like the silly brunette: when your shift was over at 6:00, and you are standing around at 8:30, looking for someone to talk to, and no one wants to talk to you - GO HOME
• The GuitarDuo. Way too mellow for a festival.
• Double wide strollers. Hate you. Hate the people that buy them, and sometimes the children that are in them.
• On the same strain - drunk parents and wayward kids. Last I checked festival grounds do NOT equal free babysitting by perfect strangers.
• Receiving three pitchers of red wine that we thought/hoped was sangria. Alas, it wasn't.

Things I loved about F&R:

• Can I say pretty much everything else? Kinda want to. I really love this fest. I'll try to elaborate.
• The backstage magic. These people run a very large, awesome, tight ship. You'd think it was easy breezy to do this music fest thing, with the way they've got it DOWN.
• The appreciation. I'm not a appreciation-seeking-whore. I'm there because Old Town is my super happy place, and the fest is a part of that. No less than a handful of staff thanked me each night as I dragged my tired ass out of there.
• The spontaneous concert/jam session that happened backstage after the Sunday night show got cancelled due to lightning. I am so very very lucky to have been around for that. It just personifies, to me, what Old Town is all about.
• All of the people I worked with this year. (Except that whole "bitch" thing). I'm lucky to get the roles that I ask for, and it's easy to work hard for/with a bunch of folks that I consider friends. I want to buy drinks for TH, KO, DJ, CM, AB, SJ, JK. I'll have to put that on my to-do list.
• The t-shirts this year. Oh.my. You need to see this. I'll post a picture of it soon. Y'all are going to be jealous! (Except ZRM, because I got him one)
• Ok, even the rain on Sunday (before the lightning - shakes fist at lightning). It was cooling and kinda fun, for a while. Nothing like running around in the rain in the middle of summer.
• The mood and/or vibe. You just can't beat it.

How much you ask?

In an effort to have a good follow up to yesterday's blog, I asked VonHairdresser: "About how much of my hair are you cutting out?" She thought about it for a minute, continued sawing away. "It's about 1/3 to 1/2." "I'm sorry, what?!!?" "1/3 to 1/2. Of your hair. Gone. You asked a question, I answered it." There you have it. 1/3 to 1/2 of my hair. Gone. *lone tear....tracks down my cheek.....I miss my hair....*

The thinning....

No, not my body, much to VonMom's very vocal and unpleasant disappointment. The thinning of the hair happens tonight. And I can't wait. Here's the thing. I've got H A I R. Not super long, not even very thick, it's just a LOT of hair. I keep it well, it's my very best asset. It's blonde (expensively and falsely so) with rock n' roll dark brown (also falsely so) underneath (this is a recent change). It's longish - a little past my shoulders these days. It's wavy enough that people comment on it, and in these humid days, more so than not. AND IT'S FREAKIN' HOT See, I'm like a dog. No kidding - I have so much hair that my head can't breathe and I sometimes get sores. On.my.head. So, every summer my hairdresser thins the hell out of it. It's an ugly, ugly process. She takes thinning shears to my scalp and just cuts and cuts and cuts. It's kinda funny, in that the first few weeks if you were so inclined you could have me flip my head over and from the neck to about half way up you could see little lines of crew cut. There is a horrible crunching sound as she cuts and cuts and cuts, followed by masses and masses of hair falling all around me on the floor. This process has even gotten unsolicited comments from other salon goers. One woman actually yelled at me. She said "What are you doing?! Are you insane!? People would kill for hair like yours!" Ever since that cobag incident, we now do this at the last appointment of the day, when we are pretty much the only people left in the shop. This needs no audience. When I was younger, we used to have to wash our hair in a laundry tub. One summer, I told my parents that the water temperature actually went up between when it hits my head and when it rinses out. VonDad didn't believe me, so he followed me into the laundry room when I washed my hair. I had him feel the water as it came out of the hosething, and then feel it after it had run over my head. "Holy shit." he said, "There really is a difference." This is how hot my head gets. So, don't mind me as I count down the hours and minutes until thinning time.