In January of 2013, I saw the brilliant, short-lived Rose Windows at Showbox. Poor Moon and the Cave Singers also played that night. I had recently returned from a solo trip to Iceland for the Airwaves Festival where I saw over 40 shows. But I was already on the bus downtown before I realized that this was the first show I had ever attended by myself in the United States.
When I came home from Iceland Airwaves in 2012, I had prepared some hair of the dog. In this case it was tickets to see Neil Young with my mom at Key Arena on Saturday, and a show with my husband at El Corazon on Sunday. We were there to see Insomnium. I had forgotten Epica was on the bill until I stumbled on this picture.
My kitchen counter is lined with growlers from Reuben’s Brews. We empty them quickly then then they sit empty until my husband has time to take one back and fill it up. Sometimes the whole family runs up for the refill, but until recently it was always a quick errand. The tasting room at Reuben’s was too busy and crowded for a family with small kids to spend much time. Until recently. Continue reading
When I was in the second grade, my teacher read Old Yeller to the class. When she got to the end, she started crying and had to go get Mrs. Wilson to finish for her. From then on I felt smugly superior to my teacher. Don’t get me wrong. Ain’t nothing sadder than a dead dog, but get a hold of yourself woman. That was my attitude then. Continue reading
There are two things I have to do whenever I’m near Leavenworth, Washington. I must eat at South, arguably the best Mexican restaurant in the state, and I must visit A Book for All Seasons. So even if the temperature hadn’t topped 100 F at our campsite overlooking the Wenatchee River this summer, sending us into town in search of air conditioning, I probably would have found myself browsing the warren of rooms in Leavenworth’s brilliantly curated independent bookstore. Continue reading
I never understood the idea of “small dreams” until I started receiving unsolicited advance reader copies (ARCs) of soon-to-be-published books in the mail, and felt like I had arrived. It wasn’t quite the same as being paid to read, to but not having to pay to read felt pretty close (Yes, libraries. But late fees.)
Of course, roses have thorns, etc. and I soon discovered that even small dreams have their downsides. Continue reading