Before this becomes habit

Matt and I are getting so close to dialing in those insulin doses. It's not going to be a moment too soon, either. I fear that this insomnia will become a longterm habit (I've been warned it can from a girlfriend who has been there and is still doing that).

Counting the excitement of going to New Zealand, I haven't slept more than a few hours uninterrupted since mid-February.

Did a bomber run down to Childrens for a gastro appointment Monday/Tuesday. Was a bit concerned about the swine flu, but in the end, we just had to go. Wyatt can stay on the Prevacid (proton pump inhibitor) for as long as it takes for him to outgrow this GERD (acid reflux).

Three cheeers!

Group hug, Kiwi-style

I have found my calling and it is plying pork products on Kiwi musos.

Disasteradio's show was so much fun. It was hot and sweaty with heaps of enthusiasm, on his part and ours. Black Sheep baristi Elliot and Reed did a great job interpretive dancing with Karen through the set. I danced my ass off, even with a splinter in my bare foot. My unoperated hip hurt like hell for days, but it was worth it.

It was another stone soup production with folks rallying around to help and donate time, gear, gifts, and muscle. Karen, Janet, and I turned the room from living room to dancehall in less than half an hour.

I got a bit nervous as the potluck had already started, and the Disasteradio crew were nowhere in sight. Blink, is a man good to his word, though, and he got everybody to Bishop with plenty of time to spare. They were coming from Vegas and stopped to experience the hottest weather they'd ever experienced. It was all of 100.4 degrees [Note to self, try not to book Kiwi bands in the dead of summer. They will die.].

Luke aka Disasteradio had just married his girlfriend Christina the night before in Vegas. They were giddy. Blink brought his beloved Sally on this tour. Yay! They all brought Simon Ward, a lovely and talented videographer and videomaker (see above). The show was very high energy and was particularly mesmerizing for me because the music meshed with the wee films so very well. Luke is a multitasker and can sing, twiddle with the knobs and dials, run a laptop, and control the disco ball we had with his foot.

The potluck was a hit. The next night, we had carnitas tacos for dinner, and the next morning, we had the local mahogany smoked thick sliced bacon (aka "crack bacon"). I made sure to cook the bacon slowly and not too crisp, like folks outside of the States like it. I was touched that they gave us bottles of Hawkes Bay wine and music pressies when they left. A few days have passed, and I'm still feeling the group hug.

Brainstorming now with friends on how to get Humphreys and Keen over to the States....

Easter, LA, and beyond

What a beautiful, fun, Easter at Macey's again this year. "The girls" and Marshall came and my dad drove up from Olancha for the day.

Monday, we spent a long, intense day at Childrens Hospital. We learned heaps. For all the high blood glucoses we've been having, we had the lowest A1C of 7.4 ever! The nurses explained that even with the high readings, our quick actions resulted in better overall averages.
Yay!
Our eventual goal is to get an A1C of between 6 and 7.

Got outskied by a 4 year old today

Babbo didn't throw one hissy fit and skied until the Discovery Chair closed.
I only threw one minor hissy fit (about driving around the Mammoth Mountain lot) and skied until the Discovery Chair closed.
Babbo skis the fall line and can stop.
I can't ski the fall line and can stop (because I ski so slowly).

Babbo 1 Mommy Nil.

Oh, he can also do the near splits AND plow the snow with his helmeted head while skiing! Amazing.

I now know that Matty drinks mainly from the well of infinite patience. I, on the otherhand, drink from the well of impending crabbiness. Shit.

When the wind comes 'round

It's still for the moment. Huzzah! Spring winds have a habit of making everybody crabby and sniffly and sneezy.

Getting some sleep, thanks to Matty taking Babbo's 3 am blood glucose readings, but life with pump still a bit too full of ups and downs. Apparently, this is very normal in the early days.

Santogold is hot.


The Cold War Kids are not.
The concert demographic was mostly comprised of well to do, dumb, Orange County college kids on spring break. What was I thinking?
A pod of Asian kids went by, called out "Look, Asian!" and highfived me. That was cool.
Had a fun time with girlfriends and Marshall Minobe, drinking wine and eating desert nonetheless!

My kingdom for a full night's sleep

Wyatt's numbers still all over the place, but we are getting to within striking range now. The nurses at Children's are now letting us skip ahead an increment on overnight insulin dosage, saving us a wasted night each time they do so.

We got ketones (bad) for the first time the other night. Luckily they were small and dealt with with water and insulin.

I am so sleepy that I had no will to go to the Banff Film Fest tonight. It is the alternative mountain crowd event of the year. I just couldn't bear the small talk and the long sad ethnographic film before the intermission.

Matty got a night out.

I hope to see Santogold and the Cold War Kids in Mammoth tomorrow night. Free gig at the Village.

The pump is installed

We are having ups and downs in the process of trying to fine tune Babbo's insulin pump to administer the right doses throughout the day and night.

Matty and I are splitting the night shift. One of us takes the 12 am and the other, the 3 am blood glucose reading.

Three cheers for technology, though. We can dose the boy while he's running and playing and just being a kid. No more waving needles and vials in very public places. It's not like he or we were self-conscious about the needles and vials, but the discretion will allow him some degree of not being so "special" in the future. He looks like a wee baby doctor because the unit looks like a pager on his waistband. He digs the look.

Do Crazy Old Chinese Women Dream of Technicolor Lamingtons? (sorry exceedingly long trip report with heaps of errors)

So, my 11 days away from Bishop, my 9 days in New Zealand were an extended dream.

I had the flu. I danced so hard I was crippled. I met so many folks I already knew through years of emails, etc. I scared young boys with my enthusiasm for their bands. I pinched the smooth arms of Peter Keen, a man who sings the angel songs inside my head. I got asthma and went to urgent care. I missed Wyatt and Matt for the first time ever, because I've never really been away from them.

I did not drink nearly enough wine. I subsisted on a diet of Omega plums - my gorgeous, tart, S. Island Omegas were in season- and cappuccinos.

I saw the son of my childhood friend walk home from school on my way through their moderate sized (pop. 30,000) town. I so wanted to jump out of the car to say "hello!", but reckoned that they teach New Zealand kids not to talk to strangers, too.

I scared the little brother of one person I know so badly that he moved seats on the bus we were riding into town together. It's just that I recognized him from the Phoenix Foundation's "Bright Grey" video and family snapshots on blogs and kept looking to double check that it was him. Poor bastard.

I bought a fantastic wee painting of Pohutukawa (NZ Christmas tree) from a fellow Phoenix Foundation fan.

I met the very nice Liam Ryan, the man behind the voice I listen to 4 days a week (He's a DJ on Radio Active). He is a walking encyclopedia of pop/rock/reggae.

I fired my synapses overtime playing, "Who is this New Zealander and why should I know her/him?"

I got good at texting and calling on cellphones. (There isn't a real need for it here in Bishop).

I got to have the New Zealand music conversations I have inside my head out loud....with people to boot!

I saw my dear tomato growing partners Glenn and Jan again and told them that when I met Glenn in 2004, I didn't think he'd live long enough for me to see him again. I told them that I thought they were in much better shape now than five years ago. We swam through the wildness of their glasshouses, parting the ferns, banana trees, taros, everything they have taken up in retirement. On my way out of town, they took me to the park in town, where rainforests stood side by side with manicured cricket lawns. Magic.

The Matthew Bannister/Able Tasmans/Humphreys and Keen/The Puddle gig was such a thing of beauty. I danced in a corner in a terribly inappropriately sheer dress and beige bra combo which had the misfortune of making me look like a reject from a Sears' Plus Size mannequin factory. The punters at the show were so lovely, so welcoming, though. Matthew Bannister and his musical partner Paula Law sang observationally pithy songs with such beautiful voices. I hung onto every note of the Able Tasmans (I am only a recent convert to their oeuvre, to my shame) and Humphreys and Keen sets. Peter Keen and Graeme Humphreys rendered the songs as if singing to a room of old mates, sometimes starting over- having never really perfomed these songs live before- in their quest to do right by them. Bless. I bleated like a baby lamb when their set ended on the last line from their last song on "The Overflow" - "You'll know just enough to break my heart in ev'ry single way." Break it they did. It was neat to see George D. Henderson (and dear fellow Phoenix Foundation fan friend Ian Henderson!) in the Puddle. Looking at George Henderson, you get the feeling that this man has survived a lot and when he sings about love, you get the feeling that he's thought a lot about it. Thank you Owen Harris for organizing the show and for the warm welcome and thank you Steven Schayer for the instant friendship. Thank you Ian Henderson for being just the good guy that you are and have always been.

Over the Atlantic showed that a year of hard touring around the world makes you fine musicians, even in the face of dumb young punters up wayyyy too late in the middle of the night. Nik and Ash and Rhys all play like houses on fire. They are more muscular than ever and the addition of Liz on keys makes their wall of sound even fuller. I love that the year of touring hadn't changed Nik and Ash's loveliness. It was nice to meet Nik's folks and sisters, too. I am suffering a bit of shock because as "purdy" as their second CD -Dimensions- is, it does not prepare you for their sonic live show. Bibi said that it was the second loudest show she'd been to.

Seeing the SJD Band, in the rain in Wellington, was worth the 04:30 wake up call to catch a flight from Auckland to Wellington in a cyclone. I pounded six ibuprofin to get there and to stay upright in the midst of the flu, and it was worth it all. Sean Donnelly is a ringleader of a fine circus of amazing performers. Sandy Mill is even more amazing in person than on record. She sings with great ability and range and plays percussion. Dominic Blaazer on keys is cheeky and his bv are a fine compliment. James Duncan's guitar adds an organic warmth to counter to sometimes two sets of keyboards. I know why lovely Chris O'Connor is a drummer in demand. Paul McLaney was not there and, frankly, it might have been a distraction to have another singer. Sean Donnelly's songs are deeper and more touching than a cursory listen would indicate, and this is really apparent when you are sick in a mud pit. I am going to make a mix tape of the studio versions of all the songs they did. It was that much of a show of joy. I was gobsmacked when Sean dedicated "Beautiful Haze" to me.

Dan Adams' solo opener, under the moniker Colossal Colossus, in the lovely wee community Breaker Bay Hall with himself on loops (recording bits and playing them back in the course of the song to make a fuller sound) made my head spin and my heart soar. His layering of vocals in "Full Fathom Five" still haunts me. He closed the show with a very very special unlooped "Million Dollar View" (with a kind shout out), which made me very happy. It was lovely to meet the extraordinary photographer and extraordinarily kind Robert Catto that night, too. Robert's multitalented wife Delia drummed in headlining Milkthistle. I spent a day with Dan and his beautiful, intelligent, and creative wife Mary and their newborn Nina. We had breakky (poached eggs and lattes of course!) at the atmospheric Maranui Cafe in Lyall Bay. Rodney (my best mate from college and the friend who introduced me to Matty) cycled out to join us. It was a gorgeously sunny and dry day. After brunch, we drve around the wee communities along the water, we dropped Mary and Nina off, and we headed up to Poirurua for Dan's lecture at Whitireia Polytechnic. The lecture was to students in the first third of their studies and discussed vocals. Dan had visual and audio clips for everything he wanted to discuss, voice as instrument, families who sing together, the magic of a good vocal, emotion as a conditioner to vocals, etc. I wish I had more professors who were this passionate about teaching and about their subject. We swung back to Wellington's waterfront for a gelato and some NZ music and National Radio gossip. The he took me to Karori, where the Adamses lived, where two generations of the family were married, where the Adams boys explored the WWII gun turret that inspired the song "Tunnels in the Hill". We finished the day with a wee hike at Makara Beach, where I got to stand on the West Coast again. Gorgeous. Dan's folks, who gave us a lift back from Breaker Bay, are quite remarkable, and Dad is a Mutton Birds' fan, too!

Will Ricketts, percussionist for the Phoenix Foundation, was a joy to be with for the hour we "hung." He was so focused and happy about making his own music. He'd been up to 04:30 recording the night before. He has a new solo CD that will be released soon named "John Dryden" after his famous poet relation. The tracks are quite different from one another but taken together, they make a wonderful, wonderful summer album. It hangs together really well.

One night, we were supposed to either go see Spartacus R and Ragamuffin Children or the Mint Chicks, but ended up seeing Sam Scott, who took us up to where the Phoenix Foundation practice and record. We three sat around and gassed about New Zealand music gossip and the shows we'd seen so far. He recorded Bibi and me clapping on one track for the new album. Sadly, Chinese Americans are not known for their rhythm. For all of Bibi's Southern ability to keep time, I dorked out and won't be surprised if our clapping can't get used. Sorry, Bibi Dude! It was a lovely to see Sam for a bit. I teased that his wedding band ("kept man band") looked good on him, and it does. I feel squishy inside when I see Sam Scott. To my great shame, I was driving up the Kapiti Coast and missed seeing Richie (TPF drummer) Brett (TPF soundman) who were waiting for me at Fidels on Cuba Street.

I am a bit in love with the Cassette band. I like their rangy Americana and the kind of boy meets girl and writes a country song about it approach to tunes. Luke "love me, I'm Polish" Buda was playing around Auckland and Cassette were his band. At Cassette No. 9 (the same young venue with the young punters where we saw Over the Atlantic), Cassette were the headliners on a bill with White Swan/Black Swan, a duo featuring Ben Arch Hill/Suprette Howe and his musical partner Sonya Waters- with their lovely vocal and narrative juxtapositions; an unmemorable kitschy Americana band; and Luke Buda. Luke was excited for us to see Cassette and warned that Tom Watson (a fella I ran up to at the SJD show to say "Hullo, I'm seeing your show in Auckland next week and boy, am I looking forward to it!" To which, rather stunned, he replied, "Hi, I'm Tom.") was quite a guitarist. True that. Craig Terris on drums and excellent backing vocals is a revelation, too. Bibi and I sat with Luke for quite a while. We chatted about sons, Phoenix touring the States, Phoenix touring Europe, the economics of touring, NZ music gossip, swearing in America, American politics, etc. Luke is the man I feel quite related to. Maybe it's because our sons are pretty close in age or maybe it's just because he is often quite honestly disarming, but in a gentle and good natured way. He is blessed with songwriting talent, a wonderful partner, and two sons now. Because Cassette drummer Craig Terris decided to dedicate a song to a heckler in the crowd, Luke ended up dedicating the following "My Imminent Demise" to Bishop, California! Bless.

Bibi was a trooper. I tend to get quite withdrawn towards the end of trips, and she admirably just gave me space. We had a few wee breaks from doing things together during the trip, which was great. It allowed us to form distinct memories and to make the trip our very own. Luckily, she didn't get sick and could drink wine, so had a few winetasting adventures while I hung out with the Adamses and the Parkers. She handled the very very late nights admirably.

Rodney and Carla were troopers and wonderful to us. We invaded their apartment in Newtown, with Bibi and I taking turns in the lounge. I promptly made Rodney sick and it was the week he was starting grad school at night (MBA from Vic Uni). Still, he dragged his ass out to have fish and chips lunch with us. They gave us their phones, showed us how to catch the buses into town, cooked for us, and got us Indian takeaways. One night, we four played grown ups and went to Logan Brown for the fabby and cheap (with the $2 NZD to $1 USD exchange rate, three courses ran about $20) prix fixe meal.

I ditched the harpy for a bit.

I didn't die driving between Welly and New Plymouth.

Mission accomplished.

Sunday is here. Tuesday is coming.

Glenn very very good. His wife Jan says that he tells all the neighbors that his "American girlfriend" is coming. To which I say, "Won't they be surprised when the Chinese mail order bride arrives?" We three had a long ol' chat on the phone the other day, and his brain is just in the process of "resetting." The wee stroke was his wake up call to get his blood pressure under control and to get fit. Not bad goals.

I have been having a hell of a time sleeping. Too much adrenaline. Last night, I stayed awake for four hours AFTER going to bed with an ambien. I did have a scare with Wyatt after I put my head down - his blood sugars were a little low going into the night, and it took ages to try to rouse him for some juice. I got scared then angry. Poor little buggar, all he wanted was sleep.

Every one has been so lovely. My folks don't object to my going. My in-laws are lovely. They gave me a card with some cash and told me to have fun. They said to say "hi" to Mel, the stalker in the Flight of the Conchords show. Funny people.

It's 2 in the morning and I was awake anyway

Wyatt: (sound of disturbed sleep) Mommy...Daddy!
Mommy: Hi Wyatt. What's wrong?
Wyatt: (clear as a bell) Nothing. I just wanted to say "hi."

He's been sleeping on a cot at the foot of our bed since his numbers started going haywire. It's comforting to be there for him when he's scared, when he's sick. Makes up for all our crabbiness during the day, when daylight is burning, when there is work to be done, when somebody is being stroppy, when there are the distractions that make you forget where you fit in the grand scheme of things.

A million thoughts to Glenn Parker

he's my tomato partner in crime in New Plymouth, New Zealand. He has had what his daughter termed a "small" stroke, but I know those Parkers. They tend to sandbag these things. I was supposed to stay with Glenn and his wife Jan around the 4th of March and of course, the note I got tonight said, "Dad and Mum still say you are very welcomed to stay." Just like them.

I have been friends with Glenn and lovely Jan for someodd 8 or so years now. We email eachother so regularly, that I get to feeling that something is amiss in the universe when two weeks goes by without a note. We compare the things falling off our bodies, getting fat, getting fit, politics, what's growing in the garden in general, and of course, tomatoes.

Glenn introduced the Kosovo tomato commercially. It is everyone's favorite - as it should be.

I do hope that it was a small stroke and that he's on his way to recovery.

The daunting Glucagon

So, when Wyatt had the gastro, his numbers plummeted, and one night, they just wouldn't go back into range. Between 100-200 is optimal for a kid. Below 80 requires active intervention with carbohydrates. He was 54, which was getting dangerous. I pumped him with 45 grams of carbohydrates in the form of juice over 90 minutes. Normally, this would have skyrocketed Wyatt well past 200, but he started to drop even more.

I remembered something Matty read out loud from the big reference book about using glucagon in times of stomach flus and thought we'd better use it, even if Wyatt wasn't passed out. Normally, glucagon is reserved for when diabetics can't swallow and/or are in a hypoglycemic coma.

I woke Matty up to do the conversion math at about 2am. We decided on the minidosing regimen for which there were heaps of abstracts of studies and general instructions online. Trouble was, half the instructions were in volumes by weight and the other half were in units on a syringe. We bickered a bit. It helped to see on the glucagon instructions a box indicating that it was impossible to overadminister it. Bless Matty the Mathlete (yes, he was a high school mathlete), because he sussed it out, and we were able to use the normal small syringe we use for everything and not the large animal issue that comes in the glucagon kit (see above).

With our wee minidose, Wyatt's liver dumped sugars into his bloodstream, and he started to metabolize sugar again. We'd been prepared that glucagon could cause vomiting, so I had the boy sleep on his stomach. Sure enough, he barfed about two hours later. Oh, and he sponteneously crapped, too. After a clean up, we got to bed by 4.

I am grateful that Susan, our pharmacist kept giving us glucagon kits to leave around the house because we'd met our deductible and at that point, they were free. I am glad that the kit was not too hard to use in the end (that instruction sheet you see is double sided). The kit also saved us a 911 call or a trip to the emergency room.

Diabetes is the disease that keeps parents on their toes. As soon as the gastro ended, the boy caught a cold and his sugars have been very high.....

Yet another New Zealand music geek out post, but this time, I'm Aotearoa bound

After much hmming and hahhhing and talking it over with the powers that be, I've decided to go to New Zealand for a week and a half with Bibi. Bibi is my New Zealand music partner in crime. We met over the Mutton Birds. She taught me about the Flying Nun back catalog, and I introduced her to the Phoenix Foundation and SJD.

I owe Matty, my dear friend and boss Diane, and various friends and family heaps of thanks for making this possible. I owe United Mileage Plus for getting me there (I needed 80,000 miles I had just attained the balance of 80,040).

I owe a fella I haven't yet met heaps of thanks for hosting private a Humphreys and Keen gig in Auckland for his birthday. I owe Ian Henderson, a penfriend of several years, heaps of thanks for giving me the heads up that the Puddle, a band he drums for, would be opening for Humphreys and Keen.

So, in the week and a half, I hope to (no particular order):
See Humphreys and Keen, opened by the Puddle, and Matthew Bannister in Auckland
See Over the Atlantic (the wonderful fellas who played our living room last spring) in AKL
See SJD (purveyor of thinking person's dance music and some of my favorite songs) in Wellington, at a beerfestival where I also hope to see past Bar Bodega owner Fraser McInnes
See Dan Adams (a composer and performer we saw at the 2004 NZ Arts Festival. We have kept in touch over the years since) in WLG
See Luke Buda, opened by Black Swan/White Swan, and Cassette in AKL the night before I fly home
Stay with Rodney, my best mate from uni, and his wife Carla in WLG. I will be bearing ungodly amounts of corn tortillas, pickled jalepenos, and green salsa (Carla is Mexican) and DVDs.
Spend the night with Glenn and Jan Parker, my tomato partners in crime in New Plymouth
Say "hi" to Liam Luff, the Radio Active DJ who turned me onto the Phoenix Foundation back in 2002, and who has provided invaluable advice along the way.
Say "hi" to Steve Dean, a penfriend from the Mutton Birds' list and sender of fine packages, in WLG
See Enaj, the girl I grew up with in the Valley, in Wanganui
Drink Ata Rangi Pinot Noir, my fav of all-time, in Martinborough (I have had the 02, 03, 04 vintages)
Meet Walter, a fella who is a friend of Lesley's here in Bishop and an old coworker of Luke Buda's, who does improvisational drama and will have a poster by Mat Hunkin, an artist I quite like, for me.
Buy a wee Pohutukawa painting from a fellow Phoenix Foundation fan.

This will be the first trip in five that I don't go to the South Island. Strange.

I have written the draft of a letter I will leave for Babbo. I am a worrier and wonder what it would be like if I died over there. My writing the letter is my acknowledgment that all things are possible. The letter itself is my acknowledgment that for all my disciplining, I am incredibly proud of Wyatt and quite love his very open personality. I have every intention of coming home on time, ready for loving and parenting. I do need this break, though.

I hope to ditch my humorless harpy somewhere over the Pacific.

In other NZ Music news, I had asked around re: the opening lyrics to the Able Tasmans' song "Angry Martyr" and got around to asking its singer and lyricist Peter Keen. To my surprise, he told me. Apparently, it'd been the subject of many a conjecture over the years, and he'd never got around to telling. I don't know how I feel about being the latecomer to the party, but the first to find out. Honored is one thing, but was I worthy?

30 Albums That Changed Your Life

(from a Facebook exercise)
Doing this list, I realized I was more suited to making mixtapes. I'm a singles woman in the end.
Thank you to Karen O' Leary for laying down the gauntlet. It was hard and fun.
There are a few embarrassing things, and many would not be desert island disc candidates now.
I would love to read others' lists.


1) The Lark, Soundtrack to a 1960s Shaw Brothers' film. In Mandarin. Haven't the foggiest idea what they're on about.
2) West Side Story, Soundtrack, Film. Because when you're a jet, you're a jet all the way. Or, maybe it's because the Sharks were hot in the orange face paint?
3)The Carpenters, Singles 1969 -1973. Every whoa oh oh. My first or second LP.
4) The Singing Detective, Soundtrack, Television.
5) Jean Redpath, Song of the Seals. Celtic songs about chicks who ruin their families' honor and get the silver dagger treatment from their pissed off fathers/brothers/mothers floated my boat and formed my opinions on love when I was 16.
6) Shirley Bassey, Love is a Many Splendored Thing.
7) Linda and Richard Thompson, Shoot Out the Lights. A primer on how to have the world's ugliest divorce.
8) Fairport Convention, Unhalfbricking.
9) Squeeze, East Side Story. Pure pop confection.
10) Elvis Costello, Imperial Bedroom.
11) Ella Fitzgerald, Live in Rome. "I Loves You Porgy" has a note in it that Ella bends and makes me shiver.
12) Roberta Flack, First Take. The woman could sing her ass off. This was her first release, and she sings Leonard Cohen's "Hey, That's No Way to Say Goodbye." When I was 14, a boy I loved said he would probably try drugs, and I spent a whole weekend listening to this damn song and crying like an idiot because he was going to die - DIE I TELLS YA! He didn't die. We are still friends, even if we both have fewer brain cells.
13) Sam Cooke, Night Beat. Horny and sad Sam Cooke. Probably the same one who got himself killed in that fleabag motel.
14) Crowded House, Together Alone. It reminds me of living in Truckee, California under a million feet of snow and among exploding homebrew bottles. Matty and I set up our first house to it.
15) Nat "King" Cole, Nat King Cole Story.
16) Van Morrison, Moondance. The album that heralded my impending adolescence.
17) Humphreys and Keen, The Overflow. My romantic notion for adulthood. The album I keep pimping, I know. Sorry Karen O'.
18) The Phoenix Foundation, Horsepower. God damned, I love these boys so very much.
19) The Phoenix Foundation, Happy Ending. I love them so very much that I am skipping over the Front Lawn and SJD and Paul Kelly to have two of their releases on this list. Sorry Sean (but you would rule my mixtapes).
20) Topless Women Talk About Their Lives, Soundtrack. Quite a few of the mighty Flying Nun stable are well represented.
21) The Mutton Birds, Nature. What precipitated falling off the deep end over New Zealand pop. It's Hong Kong 1995, and I'm sweaty and delirious with the flu, with this on repeat for 14 hours at a time.
22) The Mutton Birds, Envy of Angels.
23) X, Los Angeles. Punk where there was no punk before.
24) Radiohead, The Bends.
25) Aztec Camera, High Land, Hard Rain. I was an impressionable teen and 18 year old Roddy Frame was a genius. This could be interchanged with Prefab Sprout's Steve McQueen/Two Wheels Good. You decide.
26) Bob Wills and His Texas Playboys, Any greatest hits compilation with "Dusty Skies." Reminds me of driving aimlessly and eating too many molten meat pies around New Zealand.
27) Pulp, A Different Class.
28) Aimee Mann, I'm with Stupid. I learned to garden to this.
29) Glenn Gould, The Goldberg Variations, the later one when he's all humming all the time.
30) Beatles, Hard Day's Night Soundtrack

poker and potluck babies and pies

NB: the tin of Missouri Spudmaster chips the size of Matt and Zach's heads.

New fathers

Getting to the last of the Pinos Pies :(

Babbo holding Wayland and super psyched about it.

The Bacon Explosion v. 1 aka Vegetarians, Avert Your Eyes!

the basketweave

Houston, we have germination and other slow news day reports

The 2009 growing season is off! First sets of true leaves are coming in on the Japanese Black Trifele and the Grandeur (F1) tomatoes. The Pimientos de Padron peppers are up and will have their true leaves in about a week. The combination of the old propane stove coupled with the new wee grow light (a Christmas pressie from my mother in law) is pretty good for getting seedlings started.

My mother in law came down for an impromptu visit, and no tears were shed over the course of the weekend, no Xanax consumed. This was a pretty fine victory. I am heartened. She did ask if Matt and I were alcoholics and if we were going to church. I, to my own detriment, said something to the effect, "I REALLY love the idea of alcohol, but just can't drink very much of it." I am the daughter of an alcoholic, so I am aware of the devastation it can cause. But I am 40. You would think I would know by now if I was headed down that road. My one to two drinks a night, a few times a week does not convince me it's going to happen. She asked if we were going to church because there is a light up Jesus picture Matt found at the dump in our bathroom and a Jesus air freshener on our fridge.

I am obsessed with an Able Tasmans' song called "Angry Martyr" and cannot for the life of me figure out the first line or the bit sounds like a round. It's about a girl and god, near as I can tell.

Wyatt had a quick bout of gastroenteritis and it made his blood sugars plummet. That was a first. Viruses usually mean that they surge. Diabetes, the disease that keeps everyone on their toes.

Parties, pork products, and playdates. Life is full of those at the mo'. I made a bacon explosion because the blog link was sent to me by no less than two different fellas on the same day and because the article about it was the top story over at the New York Times. Two pounds of bacon and two pounds of Italian sausage, barbecue sauce, and heated smoke. Pictures to follow.

It is done

Goodbye and good riddance to the Bush Administration.
Greetings and a huge measure of good luck to the new Obama Administration.

A thought to Sam Cooke's "A Change Is Gonna Come"


I was born by the river in a little tent
And just like the river, I've been running ever since
It's been a long time coming
But I know a change is gonna come

It's been too hard living, but I'm afraid to die

I don't know what's up there beyond the sky

It's been a long time coming

But I know a change is gonna come

I go to the movie, and I go downtown

Somebody keep telling me "Don't hang around"

It's been a long time coming

But I know a change is gonna come

Then I go to my brother and I say, "Brother, help me please"

But he winds up knocking me back down on my knees

There've been times that I've thought I couldn't last for long

But now I think I'm able to carry on

It's been a long time coming

But I know a change is gonna come

Hosteling international

Matt and Bev from Otley, England, have been here since after Christmas. They are working on their bouldering projects/problems. Matt is the healthiest I've ever seen him, and that's a good thing. They are easy to be with, and Matt still makes lovely curries and Beef and Guinness stews.

Masa and Chris from Vancouver came by for two nights. Masa got shite weather here in Bishop last year, so our endless days of "bluebird" have been a lovely treat.

Matty took all of them shooting - killing clay pigeons with a shotgun and killing tin cans with my wee 22 rifle.

Janet came back from the Bay Area.

It's been a crowded house of sorts, but February will come and all will go quiet again.

Rode my bike to Round Valley and back the last two weekends. A round trip is 35 miles. It's been awesome.

Schoberlew's miscellany

• We had a pity party last night, where those interested could send bad news up in flames. It's been hard to get a clean slate with a bit of psychic goo residue left over from last year.
  
• I send deep and sincere positive thoughts to one of my dearest friends ever.
• Wyatt's GERD is back. Ugh. Oh well. He vomited in our bed the last few mornings. At least we know the Prevacid works and we have the insurance to cover the $3.25 a day it costs for prescriptions.
  
• I got subpoenaed by a county sheriff today. I had been expecting it. I was cheerful. He was shocked.
• Peter Keen (see post below) gave me some lovely cooking tips for a tapas pepper called Pimientos de Padron. I am still floating.