More bibs and bobs.

Doug is in the basement recording what is sure to be the next American hit single for his final push towards the completion of the RPM Challenge, and I am up here wasting (er... spending?) time on my blog. I was going to play my violin, but it's hard to play and hear myself over the sounds coming from downstairs. So Internet, I give in to you, finally.

I get up early for work (up and brushing the teeth, etc., by 5:45am), and have conditioned my body to get up early. If I am lucky, I can sleep to 7, maybe 7:30 on the weekends (sometimes until 8 if I am super tired or feeling under the weather), but I find myself waking up before 7 most weekend days. Today I woke up at 6:10am. No cats, no alarm to rouse me; just my overactive mind (and bladder) thinking about trips to the Badlands. We saw Marieke and Curt last night, and between Curt's sales pitch and Marieke's nearly-professional photos, I'm ready to book a flight and see them for myself. I've added South Dakota to my overwhelmingly long list of places to go. I had better start booking some of these trips or else I'll never get through my list.

I was able to scratch some things off of my to-do list this weekend, though, which is an advantage to getting up so early. I cut all the material for my quilt binding and made some great progress on this round of bib-making. These are the first two that I made today and I was pleased with how they came out, considering that I haven't made any bibs since last February (for my cousin's baby shower. Has it really been that long? I guess so!). I got ten done today, so only have six more (and all the snaps) to go. Should be able to finish next weekend, which will allow me to focus again on the quilt. It's my new goal to get the quilt done by the end of April, in time for the unearthing of the bed from the heavy wool blanket and down comforter. Having the quilt on the bed will be a great way to say good-bye to winter.

But, will winter ever end, really? It seems not this year. I was so thrilled on Saturday morning to see grass, actual grass, actual grass that had a slight green tint to it, that I had to take a picture. I had a feeling that it wouldn't last long, and I was right. This morning when I woke up we had four inches of fresh, heavy snow! Yay, shoveling! Doug looks thrilled, doesn't he? I decided to approach this snow with a different attitude, though. I could have, so easily, trudged outside to shovel off the driveway and clear off the cars with a very heavy heart and a very bad attitude, because, really, how much more can I take of this winter? Instead I decided to enjoy myself a little bit and I made myself a little snowperson. The snow was great for this, and who knows what kind of nasty weather we'll get next. I may not have another chance this winter to make a snowman. So, my little snowman watched me shovel from atop the recycling bin, and was soon joined by Doug's snowthing.

We had another visitor today, too - Max. Max lives next door. He stops by every once in a while and begs us to come out and play with him. We always put on our coats and go out to play with him, but he's never actually looking to play, that tricky Max. He's just looking for dog treats. The people who lived here before us used to feed Max cookies whenever he got out of his yard and wandered over into this yard, and we have kept up the tradition. Max must love getting loose, because I give him about ten doggie cookies at a time. He's such a bad begger, and I'm such a sucker. He does paw! I love paw. If the cats could do paw with me they'd be a lot more portly than they are now, that's for sure.

Okay, what else. Oh yeah. So after Max got his doggie treats I decided that it was time for me and Doug to have our human treats, and I made us some Belgian waffles. This was the first time that I ever made anything with yeast, and I was amazed by the stuff. The dry yeast looks like little worms, and what it does to the dough (makes it expand to about twice its original size) is pretty impressive. In true Rosanne fashion, the kitchen was a bit of a disaster zone while I was cooking the waffles but the end result was definitely worth it. I ate about eight of them. King Arthur makes a good Belgian waffle mix, that's for sure!

But I want you to notice in that last photo my hands. My red, scaly, scary looking hands. I have been having some real issues with my hands lately, or, more specifically, my fingers. They are either bright red or a strange purplish color, and my pinky and index finger on my right hand are swollen, with hard deposits under the skin at the tops. I tell you this because I've had this issue for a while (I'm becoming more and more convinced that I have Raynaud's, but the swollen, tender, hard deposits I can't account for.). I don't want to go to the doctor, because every time I go to the doctor I'm told to drink more water, eat more vegetables and get more sleep, and then I'll be as good as new, but I want someone to know in case I pass out from fever and infection what could be the problem. Maybe if I use lotion my scaly skin would be improved. Or maybe I just need spring to cure me. I think I prefer the latter.

Hot Molasses

Doug is in a band again and it's called Hot Molasses. It's weird with Doug in a band again, but in a band with people that I don't really know. With Prime Rib and Swim Team, I was much more knowledgeable about the bands. The people, the songs, the style of music, all of it. With this one, for me, it's been more of just a place for Doug to go one night a week. I don't know any of their songs, I don't know the other band members very well (though I have met them all, except for the tambourine player, and they are all very nice), and I'm not really sure how to describe their style.

Doug had a show on Friday night, and I'm just not used to going to shows anymore. It was at the Cantab in Cambridge, which is an alright venue, but the downstairs room was hot and smelly. I've forgotten how smelly rock can be. I got there at about nine, just in time for the first band to go on. They were pretty good - a bluegrass band of sorts, I guess. Called Slim Pickins. They had really bad stage banter, though. Really bad. Hot Molasses then went on around 10pm. Great, I think - we can leave at about 11, or whenever they're done, and hopefully be home by midnight (Doug has been fighting one of his annual respiratory infections this past week, and I am now hit with a less severe form of his disease. Friday night I was just developing it, so I really wanted to be in my bed...), but what I forgot about the rockin' lifestyle is that it's poor form to leave a show and not stock around to see the other bands. That's right! I'll get the hang of this again soon...

Doug sets up his pedals, the rest of the band gets situated on stage (there are six of them on stage for most of the songs - Ben, Andrew, Pete, Julia, Doug, and Sonia, the tambourine player), and they start to play. Here is a shot of them playing their first song (and by the way, I don't know the names of any of their tunes, so don't ask which song this is): But not too far into the first song, Doug goes down for the count. His pedal board experiences technical difficulties (as in a giant cowboy boot stepped on one of his cables and disconnected something. Perhaps a band discussion is needed on everyone keeping their feet in their own designated spaces?) and he doesn't play for the rest of the song. Here's Doug troubleshooting his pedals: Doug, though, is an experienced rock veteran, so he gets things working again and begins to rock out. Another photo of the band, and this time you can see that Doug is relaxing, because he's beginning to groove a little - note his head in the upper left corner. Why don't guitar players get whiplash?

The songs are good from Hot Molasses. Here's a video of one of them; this one, according to Doug, is called The Chief. The video is about a minute long, just as a warning.
Ben has a good voice, though he shares the singing with Julia.

For the last song, everyone changed instruments to play a cover of Pablo Picasso by Jonathan Richman. Doug moved to the mini-xylophone (Andrew took his guitar).Doug enjoyed banging on that, and I liked the cover. Here's a little sample:

Pablo Picasso was their encore, so with that they were done. And now it was time for Doug and I to argue over when to leave. In the end I won out - we left around 11:40 or so, but I felt guilty. But not too guilty - Pete bailed earlier than us. And besides, we're both ill, evidenced by the giant furball Doug just coughed up in the other room and the Kleenex stuffed into my nose (not to mention my pounding head). So while we should have stayed longer, it was best for us to leave. And it was a great show. Their next show is October something. Late in the month. Perhaps I'll go to that one, too. If I do, more photos and video will be posted (but feel free in the meantime to check out all of the videos I took at the show on YouTube). Time for me to get some tea and hit the couch.