When I was a teenager, music was so important to me that I never thought I could date, let alone marry someone who had very different musical tastes  then myself. It's probably a good thing I got over that, seeing as I doubt I'd ever find anyone with the same taste in music as myself. 

Anton has the grace to accept that my music taste is finely honed and far superior then his own. I wish I could be as gracious about his taste in music. 

As much as I love the music and bands that I do, I don't think I could ever be as... devoted as he and his friends are. While driving to another state isn't out of the question for me to see a band I love (where I get my car towed and have to walk in heels across a town I don't know), I absolutely detest arena shows. That's partly because I was trampled at an Incubus concert during the second song and ended up in the first aid area for the rest of the stupid concert, meaning I really only spent money to see 30 Seconds to Mars (vomit) and be injured. But it's more because music is very intimate to me (not that it isn't to him) but sharing the experience of my favorite music, live, with thousands of people, isn't high on my list of things to do. 

I've been to a crap ton of concerts in my life, and the shows I love and remember fondly are the small venue ones. Like when Jennifer and I saw Flickerstick for the first time at St Andy's, (or any of the other subsequent times I saw FS.) or seeing Great Lakes Myth Society in a bar with maybe 50 people. Maybe. I want to feel like they're playing for me and that's a lot easier to imagine when there aren't hundreds of people in between you and the band. 

Sorry. You didn't notice because this isn't real time, but I just had to take a 20 minute dance break to listen to Flickerstick. 

Right. So. The point I was trying to get to was that as much as I absolutely love Flickerstick and GLMS and will drive many hours to see them, I'm can't see myself willingly handing over $100+ to attend a stadium show watch them from the nosebleeds and barely be able to make out who's who on the stage. (Now, since 'stick is disbanded, if in 10 years or so they did a reunion tour at small clubs? I'd pay pretty much anything because I know the experience is going to be intimate and I'm going to get to hang out with them after the show.) Anton, on the other hand, seems to think stadium tours are where it's at, and that 100 dollars is a paltry sum to pay to see a band THAT TOURS EVERY FRICKIN' YEAR and so it's not special at all, and you're sharing the experience with strangers. (there are no strangers at a 'stick or GLMS show. It's 80 people who feel like family during and after each show. I've never felt that at a stadium show, ever.)

Our discussion on him wanting to see the worst Canadian band ever this fall turn into both of us thinking the other had no soul or taste in music (I'm right). But, as I know my taste in music is niche and my enjoyment of things never includes large crowds, I guess I need to know what other people think. Just not people with shitty taste in music. 

Have you ever...

...done something that throws your whole week off? For me, apparently, hair washing is very vital to me being able to tell the day of the week. I normally wash my hair Sundays, Tuesdays, and Thursday. This week I skipped Sunday and washed it Monday, making me mentally a day off and IT'S MAKING ME CRAZY.

FINE, KOOKY HAIR AND BRAIN GODS. I'll stick to my normal hair washing schedule. Guh. Stupid hair.

Day tripper

I think I've mentioned before that I want to do as much this summer around New England that we can, because once we leave I am never coming back. That, and if I have to be here, I want to enjoy myself and not just sit in my apartment grumbling about what a stupid state this is.

One thing I've found is too much planning ruins the fun. All we really need is an address to put into the gps and gas in the tank. Sure, I usually bring along drinks and snack bars in case a decent restaurant is hard to find, but the fun for us is the journey, not the destination.

Anyway. Yesterday I had intended that we go to an armory in Worcester, but while we were waking up in the morning, random Google searches (this is how I find EVERYTHING, I swear. I heart Google.) I stumbled upon  a free tour that the Anheuser-Busch brewery does- and even better, Saturday was Pictures with the  Clydesdales day, so we took off for Merrimack, N.H. instead.

I'm not that into beer- in fact, the only time I ever really drank beer was back when I smoked, and I think my lack of taste buds masked how awful beer tastes (too me, anyway). I'm much more likely to drink liquor or hard ciders- and, really, I'm not supposed to be drinking beer anyway. BUT. Shut up. I do what I want.

My real goal was to meet the Clydesdales, but since we were there, we decided to take the free tour, too. I think we both expected it to be boring and dull, but...we actually had a lot of fun and are considering going back to take the paid tour when my parents come this summer.  And, I really want a horse. Like. Really.

Another win yesterday was I finally figured out how to make curry from scratch. I absolutely love Japanese curry, it's turned into a comfort food for me. This winter when I was sick it was the only thing I wanted to eat. The only problem was is the pre-made cubes all had wheat* in them, and while I have curry powder, we haven't been able to find a recipe to make the roux. But feeling inspired yesterday, and with the help of a pretty decent recipe, I finally made a good, spicy curry. I can die happy.


*I know, right? I was just talking about beer and then I was all Ooohh can't have the wheat curry. I try to only have wheat every few weeks to avoid having any major symptoms. AND I really just want to know how to make curry without having the cubes, it's way cheaper.

Gardenin' ain't easy

So, remember how Anton and I got really excited about the one day in March where it was 90 degrees, and started a vegetable gardening project?

WE ARE SO DUMB.

We should have remembered that we live in Massachusetts, where the weather almost always sucks. Due to really shitty weather and poor management, we nearly lost all our cucumber plants (but lost only one) and lost all our corn. Everything except the cold weather loving plants (peas, spinach, broccoli, bok choy and Brussels sprouts) are inside and miserable. They are miserable and I don't blame them- I want it to be sunny and warm, too but nooooooooooooooooooooo. We live in fucking cold and windy and overcast crapachusetts.

The cool thing, though- our lettuce and spinach are starting to look like lettuce and spinach. A week ago they were still grass looking things, and now they resemble the things I'm going to eat in 4 or 5 weeks time. SO EXCITING.

The cats are more excited about the big box of grass we grew of them. One of them has to be in it at all times. I'm glad at least something is working the way it's supposed to.

What what, hey hey.

Sometimes I feel like King George.  I'm pretty sure I'm losing my mind. 

But let us talk about something fun. Like cats, and how cacaheaded they are. 

This cat is especially cacaheaded. He certainly loves getting to go where he isn't supposed to go. Lately, his favorite thing has been getting on top of the cupboards. We cleaned off the top of the fridge in anticipation of him continuing to do so. Shouldn't have bothered.

Wednesday morning, around 5 AM, Anton and I are roused by the sound of crashing and shattering glass. Anton ran to the direction of the noise while I tried to figure out if I didn't get up I could pretend like I thought it was a dream.  I had to get up though, when I heard Anton start bellowing. I found him in the kitchen with this face:

Boyd had managed to knock over the ONLY thing on the fridge, my french press,and shattered it allllll over the kitchen and the hallway. 

Probably the most exciting thing that's happened lately. 

Could I be more tired?

What is up, Bloglandia? I feel that I've moved from being a citizen to an occasional vacationer.

That may change in a few weeks. I'm moving to an earlier shift, so I'll have two hours at home before Anton gets home, and there's only so much plant checking and cat mushing I can handle.

I can sum the past few weeks up in three words: So, so tired. So tired I can't finish this, other then to say: I'm not dead.