pop a hands-free wheelie

It’s 10pm and I should have been in bed an hour ago.  As soon as I got home from work I started whining about how tired I was.  Carryover tired from yesterday, thanks owed to our our late-night (early morning?) arrival from Florida.  I am not reasonable, however, and did not shoot for a 9pm or maybe even 10pm turn-in.  Nay, I’ll catch-up overnight.

For Christmas Santa brought Keaton a “big girl” bike.  This thing is a clear graduation from the Shiner-sized bicycles she’s had as a toddler.  Her previous bike was quite nice, but in truth she’d outgrown it a year or so ago.  She was still able to peddle around on it, however, and still enjoyed it, so we didn’t have much motivation to upgrade.  Just before the weather started turning rainy and foggy and cooler, though, I noticed her trying to actually use that under-sized thing more and more – and that called my attention to just how much she’d outgrown it.  I told Sharaun: A “big girl” bike from Santa for Christmas.

We ordered it off the web, custom welded by some Chinese kid in an alley (Wal Mart won’t pay for real safety lenses so the kid has cheesecloth tied around his forehead and covering his eyes).  Had it delivered to our dear friend’s house, and before we left for Florida I went over and assembled the thing.  Then, after we’d left, she brought it over to our place, set it out all fancy-like under the tree (or, in front of the tree, more rightly), and took a picture for us which she then sent to my phone.  On Christmas morning in Florida Sharaun asked me, while Keaton opened gifts, “Hey David, can you check my mail for me?”  I pulled out my phone, called-up the picture, and announced that Sharaun had no mail but that Keaton got one from Santa.  We showed her the picture and I “read” Santa’s mail saying he’d brought the bike to California by mistake, but that it’d be there waiting when she returned.

And now I can’t wait to get her on it.  Being that it’s a real big girl bike it didn’t come with training wheels.  I’d initially told Keaton we’d have to wait to try riding it until we could get a pair that fit, but she announced, of her own accord, that she didn’t even need them.  She’s wrong, of course, but I’m going to go ahead try to break her in Navy Seals style and just keep my hands on the bike as we do the first few lessons in the cul-de-sac.  Who knows, maybe she’ll be a natural (I seem to remember me taking off like a boss the first time I rode sans side-wheels, but that could be me remembering wrong) and she’ll take off and pop a hands-free wheelie.  That would be cool.

If the weather cooperates I’ll have Sharaun video the lessons this weekend and maybe have a video up next week.  Should make for good daddy/daughter stuff, and I eat that stuff up.

‘Night.

decant, decant, decant

Spent the morning working.  Well, I say that… but in reality I probably spent about two hours working and another two hours playing around with the details for the coming of our planned RV odyssey.

I’m glad I did.  I always plan in a series of refining steps, like some alchemist who decants, decants, and decants some more in search of the Philosopher’s Stone – a perfect itinerary.  Today my re-plan, my second-layer planning, led to a couple revelations: #1, I don’t have to burn any vacation like I’d thought – I can take six weeks of pure “paid family leave” and be just fine; #2, Even my second itinerary, which I intended to slow-down the aggressiveness of my first try, was yet still too aggressive.  In re-evaluating things, I started from basics – asking myself how many “zero-mile” days made sense per week of driving.  In other words, what’s the ideal driving vs. not-driving ratio for a “leisurely” RV jaunt?

I Google’d, asked friends and family, and in the end decided that a 40/60 driving/not-driving ratio is ideal – with an even 50/50 split being as miles-heavy as we’d be willing to go.  Coming to this realization meant we had to do some tweaking to the route, taking out the southernmost Key West and the northernmost Glacier National Park spurs.  With the route streamlined to around 7,500 miles we were able to hit near the 50% ratio.  We still plan to hit most all of the same landmarks we’d planned on, as well as visit with family and friends, so the plan didn’t suffer too greatly.

We also got a chance to do some more thinking on the type of RV we want to rent, and get a better idea of cost for the ~30ft Class A vehicle.  Yeah, it’s all in the master spreadsheet.  I also found an hour this past week to register a new domain where we’ll host Keaton’s roadtrip video diaries.  It’s just a  bunch of test entries in an unfinished theme right now, but it’ll do nicely I think.

It’s kind of silly to stop for a minute and think about how excited I am for this trip (which, I might note, is just an ambitious “plan” until we put some money down – which will chart our course more deterministically).  Being that it’s five some months away and, as mentioned, solely on paper at the moment.  But… I think it’s the realization that I’m bound and determined here… it’s going to happen… we’ll make it happen.  That kind of stuff.  And, for reals y’all, the anticipation is high already.

Until tomorrow, when I wake up back in California – see ya.

smoke and spirits

Happy New Year’s Eve, friends and family (and enemies and the indifferent and still-not-sure).

Last night went and had a couple cigars with the brother-in-law.  Some strip-mall smokes and spirits hole, but really nice.  I told Doug, as we were sitting there, that in a past life I must have been a smoker or frequented places where smoke hung regular in the air – as I’m oddly at-home comfortable in those types of places today.  Even though I leave with my clothes smelling like they were washed in some foul smoke-bath (I guess they were), my skin feels like paper and my sinuses tighten so much my head feels heavier for it – I enjoy the smoking experience.

Pipes, cigars, even the occasional cigarette… all  have a draw.  Like I say, maybe in some previous life this was comfortable to me.  Or, maybe, Piaget was onto something and the stage of my youth which was marked by time spent with the smokestacks who were my maternal grandparents is imprinted alongside “safe, comfortable, and easy” in my mind.

Anyway we hung out and smoked and drank dark beer (Sam Smith’s Oatmeal Stout, something I fist had as a bottle offered in trade for a campfired hot dog by a dirty hippie at a Grateful Dead festival).  We talked about grown up things to justify our grey hair and sore feet: real estate investments, insurance, the march of technology, our jobs and families.  In the end I found myself again wishing that were we closer to family.  A hollow hope and really not much more for now, since I wouldn’t leave our current situation anyway; I’m risk-averse and happy and comfortable.  But for a lark it’s fun to sit and think what I might do if we up and hauled buggy across the country.  Maybe I could start a whole new career.  Maybe not.

See ya.

always an odyssey

Disney is always an odyssey.

We left the house just before 7am still partially under cover of darkness and with a thin layer of frost on the vehicle.  The monorail was out of order, so we ferried over to the park and were inside by 8:45am (much later than our intended 8am arrival).  Didn’t matter though, we killed it.  It’s a good thing both Sharaun and I enjoy “maximizing” Disney… and that Keaton has the chops to handle a full day of park.  We didn’t get home until midnight on the nose, leaving the park around 10:30pm.  I know; sounds insane – guess it is kind of insane.  But, we did all the things we wanted to do and didn’t feel too rushed or frantic.

Being just a little too young for fourteen hours of fun, Cohen stayed back with Ami.  Keaton, as expected, had a blast.  She got an autograph book and set off to meet some characters.  When all was said and done she had four princesses (including Rapunzel, her favorite part of the day), one prince, and Donald.  Not bad, and gives her something to “collect” upon future visits.  She also braved the Haunted Mansion without once cowering into our shoulders or covering her eyes (a first).  In fact, she examined the attraction with the cold measuring eyes of a Halloween prop maker’s daughter – noting several times that, “Dad, you could make that for our house at Halloween!”  Way to puff me up.

Let me just say it: I love Disney; I’m like a kid myself when it comes to the place.  And even though I think Disneyland edges out the Magic Kingdom – I’ll take a trip to either any day.  So what if my feet are sore and my day’s diet was crappy park food and snacks?  It was worth it to see Keaton’s smile (and my own, and Sharaun’s) when she got a hug from Cinderella.

Peace out.

best of 2010

Man… this thing has really become a labor of love.

I mean… I worked on writing this; worked hard.  It’s maybe ironic (a word so oft misused that I never trust myself enough to use it correctly, and pretty much know I’m not doing so here) that I feel some of my best writing is saved for an entry that most folks just gloss over.  And maybe I say it anytime, but if you’re a “regular” reader I’ve done some good stuff below that I think you might enjoy even if you’re not a stupid music-nut like me.  I hope you’ll check it out (despite it’s length; I know how my generation is with a wall of words and the perceived value we can derive from our time spent reading them).

Now then, without additional delay, honorable mention this year goes to: Menomena [listen], Sleigh Bells [listen], The Love Language [listen], and Yeasayer [listen].  Actually, the “honorable mentions” would fit well at the tail-end of this list and make for a more round fifteen picks – but I honestly ran out of steam and time and just wanted to post the dang thing.  So I quit and took the easy road.  As usual, I wanted to be done so bad that I did no real editing or “post” or proofreading… so I’m sure that, when I’m no longer sick of this entry and I decide to go back and reread it, I’ll make some little tweaks later on.

But for now, what follows are those pieces of art which ranked in my mind.  Hope you enjoy them.

13. Wavves – King of the Beach [listen]

Two dominant yet antithetical themes dominated the music I fell in love with this year.  I could pick tons of adjectives to describe each dueling idea, but I think boiling it down simply it would come to “safety” versus “frenzy.”  In some way maybe this denotes the cycle of me this year, the Scylla and Charybdis pendulum of my own ups and downs.  When the confidence is up and the sun is shining and I feel I’ve managed to shelve my sins – frenzy sounds right.  When my footing is tenuous and shadows loom and press (which, for an optimist such as me, is something that doesn’t get taken out and paraded around), safety piques.

Looking for the duality, King of the Beach is definitely in the left-hand of “frenzy.”  It speaks to a side that doesn’t care, a part that just wants to enjoy some loud nonsense and doesn’t mind a lack of polish.  No; that craves a lack of polish.  Wavves, which I think is  just one person – comes presented with no polish.  All the scuffs and scratches and faded leather is out-front and unabashed.  Words and lyrics are stupid, chords and riffs are sloppy and shambling, rhythm is haphazard and jaunty (or cocksure, maybe that’s a better word, I can’t decide).  But, egads it’s fun!!  More than just novelty fun, too.  Well, to me at least.

You should check it out and try.

12. Ariel Pink’s Haunted Graffiti – Before Today [listen]

Before Today at times sounds like lounge music, or maybe just music to lounge to.  You just loosed the cord and fired your rocket and shot straight to the moon and you put on this record and lie face-down in the thick shag.  As you pretend you’re hurtling through a synthetic fiber wormhole you can kick back to the whacked-out horns, 1970s synth and sometimes jazzy bass.  Apparently Mr. Pink (no relation to Messers Blue, Red, and Orange), who is new to my musical Rolodex, has been recording these same tracks for years… sometimes in snippets or as wholes, but the same songs.  Before Today is simply the spendy-production “major label” release of his well-known (in some circles, I suppose) repertoire.

I don’t know about any of that; the history of the songs or their elemental versions the die-hards may be attached to.  I just know these versions from 2010 and Mister, they are good.  They are real good. Midyear I said of Before Today, “Some retro Bowie/Eno/Hall & Oates mashup thing?  Oh no wait here comes some Velvet Undergroundy guitar stuff.  Man this is oddball.”  This is one you’ve probably got to hear for yourself.  So what are you waiting for, click the link and check it out.  Don’t forget your scag.

11. The Black Keys – Brothers [listen]

Eons ago when I was a fresh-faced twenty-something scratching out a living as a grunt at the sawmill, I had a best friend named Ben.  Between the both of us we were like a two-man indie music record club.  We went to concerts and streamed the latest and greatest and downloaded with abandon.  Oftentimes we were united in what we liked or disliked, either coming to the same opinion independently or one of us likely swaying the other (how many of your held opinions are solely yours and free of influence?).  One thing we were together on, though, was our dislike for The Black Keys.

I don’t know why… but we both decided it was cheap imitation garage blues-rock and wrote it off.  I like to think this was more of  decision Ben made and foisted upon me (makes me feel less guilty for this record making the list while the band flew under the radar in years past).  Whoever made the call, it settled into my subconscious and led me to dismiss the band’s efforts each time they produced a new recording.  How silly the way our brains work: One time we puke our guts out after eating cauliflower and for the rest of our lives we avoid cauliflower like it’s a sure-fire sick-maker.  I’m afraid the Black Keys were that guaranteed emetic to me, and I’m here to set things right and overcome my mental block.

Brothers is a gritty, driving work of art.  It’s music for beer and mescaline and sweat and heat.  It’s simple bluesy rock that’s unadorned yet well produced; simple in the way that makes it elementally great – like eggs over easy in the morning with a cigarette after; as simple as grabbing the thing God put under the chicken and frying it and eating it.  Undecorated; nothing special; yet good for it.  A steak with a pinch of salt and pepper; no four hour marinade, no dry rub, no herb-infusion, and for the love of all that’s holy no salsa, A1, or catsup.  You’re getting the basics here: guitar, drums, and bass.  You want glockenspiel you’re on the wrong record.

So just shut up and open your mouth and chew and enjoy the stupid-good flavor of some unpretentious rock and roll.  Then remember that this is what it’s supposed to be like; it’s rock and roll the way cavemen ate it.  Take pleasure in your connectedness.

10. Zeus – Say Us [listen]

As I wrote halfway through, Zeus’ Say Us takes a page from the Beatles’ songbook.  It’s not a bad thing.  Again, as I wrote, rock bands have been emulating the Beatles since there were Beatles songs to emulate – and will likely be doing so for a time to come.  When you define a genre, you’re going to end up in that oft-imitated bracket.  It’s not that Zeus is doing the straight ripoff thing… they’re just mining the same vein.  So, now you know what to expect… to a degree (harmonies, 4/4, verse/chorus/bridge/verse/chorus, etc.) – but you still need to check out the record.

I daresay that anyone who is looking for a good “periphery” record (one for backgrounding at barbecues or in the headphones while you snowboard or while you comment that subroutine in your cube) would do right by Say Us.  I don’t listen to the radio much, so can’t say if any of these songs got much play – but they totally could have, that’s how approachable they are.  Maybe put more simply, if you decided to get all adventurous and check out each album on my list the year and you heard that Wavves record and we’re all like, “Dave… what are you on?!,” I should redeem myself with Say Us.

09. The National – High Violet [listen]

I found it hard to shuffle High Violet into this list, but I knew (knew hard) that it belonged.

The album has something of a “subtle beauty” and a “quiet ferocity” and all sorts of other oxymoronic adjective couplets.  I wrote about it at midyear by calling their albums “growers.”  I guess this is as good a description as any.  I wrote it this way in July, and I can’t think of a better way to sum it up here:

Sharaun has commented more than once that this album sounds “slow” and “boring,” but she’s still got the scales on her eyes and I’m just a little closer to Damascus.  When those scales drop, my friends, you’ll hear such a passion in each deceptively muted rythym and baritone lyric you’ll know right away there’s substance to this one.  The National do more with less (the pause between the words “blood” and “buzz” on “Bloodbuzz Ohio” drips with anticipation and is likely to make the weak swoon).

Yup; well-said Dave.

08. Surfer Blood – Astro Coast [listen]

At one point in high school I decided I wanted to surf.  I didn’t want to be a surfer, with the culture and haircuts and mannerisms and groupthink likes and dislikes – I just wanted to surf.  From somewhere, I got a board or two (the things are like tumbleweeds in Central Florida… blown around in the onshore breeze and passed from teenager to teenager through the years until the meet their ultimate fate falling from the bed of a truck or being crunched on the coral).  My roommate and closest compatriot at the time took up the pastime with me, or he had already, I offer no pretense of memory as mine is often shot.  And we, the both of us, took to the briny tides.

I think maybe if I would have picked it up earlier in life, like around the pre-teen years, I would have affected the lifestyle a lot more. I did this, in fact, with skateboarding sometime around seventh grade (there truly are limited options at that tender age… when we so want to be classed and cliqued and to cling to some taxonomy).  I dressed skater, talked skater, listened to skater music, hung out with skaters.  Even still, I was anything but a skater.  If my chosen charade had been surfing, and if Astro Coast was thrown back in time to those years – it would’ve been the soundtrack of my feigned passion.

This music is “surf” to the core; right down to the marrow (sloshing in rhythm to the rolling sets) inside the bones under your suntanned skin.  Put this record on and open up a wrapped puck of Sex Wax and you’ll actually feel the crunchy saltwater tangles in your hair.  Like I wrote at the midway mark: “… it’s that record you were listening to that one time you lost your sunglasses.  The Ventures and Beach Boys meet Weezer (when they were good) and JaMC.”  Get it and go coastal.

07. The Local Natives – Gorilla Manor [listen]

I was enamored with this album midway through the year; a handful of really great tracks shored it up in my mind.  As the year trod on, and records with slightly better ERAs trickled out, I began to see the tiny cracks in Gorilla Manor’s veneer.  Yes it’s a super-fine album, and “Airplanes” is one (if not the) best track of the year, but I couldn’t even get it into the top five when I did my week of comparative re-listening.

I should be less negative, I don’t mean to dissuade anyone or bag on a record I’m including in my very own best-of list.  You’d like this album. It’s very good.  The harmonies and percussion particularly, sounding like a callback to folkier times (but with modernized production).  There are songs that’ll knock your socks off, namely the penultimate “Airplanes,” which I can’t stop mentioning.  And, like I said at the halfway point, there are parts that “droop and sag.”  But in the end you’ll want to hear this to round out the better stuff of the year.  I promise.

06. Kanye West – My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy [listen]

Let’s get the elitist stuck-in-his-ways stuff dispensed right up front: I don’t like rap.

No really, on the whole I just don’t dig it.  I don’t discount it as an art form or anything, that would be ignorant for a music-o-phile, it’s just not my cup of tea.  It’s hard not to like this record though.  The tunes are memorable and catchy and the words are just perfect (sometimes maybe a little too perfect, Kanye…).  To me the goodness of this album comes moreso from the attitude that comes across than anything else.  Take for instance this little call-and-response triplet:

How ‘Ye doin’?; I’m survivin’.

I was drinkin’ earlier; Now I’m drivin’.

Where the bad bitches, huh?; Where y’all hidin’?

The italicized portions are delivered in this sneering, know-it-all, entitled, Angelica Pickles tone.  That Kanye’s response to peoples’ hatred of him is to stoke the flames while cupping his own balls is what makes his stuff so good.  Oh, that and that he makes some wicked-sounding hip-hop that even a dyed-in-the-wool rock ‘n’ roller like me can appreciate.  There’s a catch, however.  A reason I don’t like this record.  I know it sounds odd but I actually feel indulgent for enjoying it.  Indulgent, moreover, to the point of feeling guilty (I told you it would sound odd).  I guess maybe all the cursing, all the trite braindead talk of sex and money… I end up asking myself, “How can you enjoy this basal crap?”  It’s akin to the feeling I used to have in the morning after getting high – a guilt and a nagging “why?” and “was it worth this?” brought on, perhaps, by upbringing or Officer Dave or Nancy Reagan or Afterschool Specials.

Uh-oh this review is getting long in the tooth.

My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy topped nearly every single 2010 list I’ve seen.  Rolling Stone, Pitchfork, CokeMachineGlow, Stereogum – only PopMatters dared slight Kanye this year.  I’m gonna stand with PopMatters on this.  The record is really, really good.  Better than College Dropout good.  It’s just not top-of-my-list good and, besides, it gives me an morality hangover.  Sorry Ye.  You done real good though.

05. Arcade Fire – The Suburbs [listen]

I don’t know when it happened, but something bad went down between me and the Arcade Fire.  We had this falling out, or growing apart, or something.  I suppose maybe it’s my fault; putting them atop of the lightning rod at the summit of Mt. Olympus didn’t give them much room to go anywhere but down.  So our relationship sort of soured and my hunched shoulders and folded arms whenever they came around were clear tells that I’d backed away.  Maybe the Arcade Fire picked up on my aloofness, because I think The Suburbs a love letter written to woo me back, to court them into my good graces one again.

And, oh, Arcade fire!  You did it!  My counselor says I should take you as you are.  He helped me see that, as love matures, those flirty fluttery-hearted days of Funeral will give way to the security of The Suburbs.  That those times of sweaty palms, perfume highs and nary an imperfection are past us shouldn’t push me away – they should draw me closer to your constancy.

I’m sorry we waned and I’m glad we’re back.  You keep making “Empty Rooms” and “Sprawl IIs” and I promise I’ll always be here for you.  XOXO.

04. Sufjan Stevens – The Age of Adz [listen] &  All Delighted People EP [listen]

I guess maybe it looks like I love everything Sufjan’s ever done.  I don’t.  I didn’t care for that BQE thing at all.  Not that it matters.

These two efforts, unbound but for the year of their release, each moved me to write their respective epics: “Djohariah” and “Impossible Soul.”  But each is more than just their standouts, and both stand starkly different from each other in feel and sound.  The EP, which came out first, is full of “classic” Sufjan instrumentation, while the long-player strays into beats and synthesized bass and blippy electronics.  You’ll go wrong with neither.

I’ve written so much about these two already throughout the year that I’m not going to try and do more here – it’d be forced.  Check those links above and see how obsessed I was with the records.  Then go check out the music for yourself.  Might not be your bag; that’s OK don’t feel guilty.  Nickelback is just fine (and I’m being perfectly serious) – there’s no need to step to this milquetoast hipster stuff, and I’m no cooler than thou for pretending to “get it” so don’t sweat it.

03. Morning Benders – Big Echo [listen]

It was hard for me… the battle between #1, #2, and #3.  I know maybe I didn’t make it sound so by my comments on Teen Dream down below… but it truly was hard.  This album, Deerhunter’s album, and the Beach House record are all in what we in the corporate world, those of us who “manage” people and rank them, rate them, what we refer to as the “top bucket.”  Ordinal ranking within the top bucket is not quite meaningless, but it’s close enough.  Like any good statistician, the “banding” of data matters nearly as much as the top-to-bottom ordering.  To be clear, the “top bucket” starts here – with Big Echo.

This music makes me so happy.  Like a week’s vacation spent in sometimes-sunlight slanting through pines; like when I was at the bottom of Molokini crater with Sharaun on my flank, floating around coral; like when I sat poolside in Mexico with Jeff, more than half-crocked & daydreaming I was Jake Barnes and Sharaun in the pool was my own Lady Brett Ashley.  That kind of bone-deep happiness and comfort.  Maybe people who aren’t music people won’t know what I mean; maybe it’s hard to grok that music can do that kind of stuff.  But I’m telling you, ye Philistines, it’s real; it’s really real.

I realized at some point that, when it comes to pop music, I like the formulaic, the patterned, the designed.  I read some reviewers saying that Big Echo tries to hard to be catchy or poppy, or some crap like that.  Whatever.  So did the Beatles (OK so maybe they defined or discovered the formula).  I enjoy the results; you’ll enjoy the results.  Just go do it.

02. Deerhunter – Halcyon Digest [listen]

When the first refrains of Halcyon Digest’s lead-track, “Earthquake,” come dripping through a pair of headphones – I like to close my eyes and imagine myself high above everything.  Related to something I know, I’m cruising at 30,000ft looking out the window on a wide swatch of God’s (flawed) creation.  Related to something I don’t know, yet something which somehow seems more appropos to the sounds, I’m floating weightless in space, tethered by a lifeline to my spacecraft; I can turn left and look down upon the world from whence I came (thanks to tons and tons of high-octane rocket fuel) and I can turn right and look out into the preponderance of seeming emptiness.  Yeah, this album makes me think of floating.

So what does it sound like?  What are you going to hear?  I dunno.  Basic stuff, mostly…  but I think it’s more the tunes than the composition here (I feel like I say that a lot, maybe too much).  I guess, if anything, it’s more distorted, overall, than the #1 spot (they sound not much alike at all, in fact), and edges away from #1’s “classic sounding” production.  Themes you’ll hear are loneliness, regret, salvation and redemption, and the daily grind.

Finish here.

01. Beach House – Teen Dream [listen]

Shimmery.

Teen Dream shimmers.  It’s such an easy album to love.  Hovering around your head weaving tendrils in and out of your ears.  It’s an easy album altogether.

The chords and plucked themes are all suffused through this hazy fuzzy sound I try to sum up as “shimmery.”  Do you remember, as a kid, learning from the fire fighters that came to your school auditorium that, if you found yourself trapped in a building that was on fire, you should get low to avoid the smoke?  Get on the ground; the smoke rises.  If you can, dampen a piece of cloth, a rip of your shirt, perhaps, and fix it over your nose and mouth to breathe through as a makeshift air filter.  Have you ever tried that (no housefire required)?  It’s not quite as easy as breathing free at all… it’s a strained fight for oxygen through the wet cloth.  But man, imagine if your house were burning… how sweet would that fresh air be?  How worth the huffing and sucking and sputtering?  Something as easy and familiar as the air you breathe everyday – a million times more precious.

Teen Dream manages to impart that same sense of extra-preciousness through it’s layered “shimmer.”  Don’t mistake me for saying it’s complicated; it’s anything but.  If you tried to dissect a track you’d come up feeling short: all the elements are rudimentary – Beach House sticks to the top couple rows of the periodic table of music.  Doesn’t matter though – it’s the construction that hits hard here.  Midway through I wrote, “As far as songs go, I often find myself falling for tracks with vocal melodies that are well-defined enough to be standalone songs in their own right.”  Teen Dream has them in spades.

Looking back over the year, this is the true capstone to me… no doubt.

awfully bored humans

Good day with family today.  We drove an hour or so away to spend the morning exploring huge man-made indoor winter.

The effort and energy required to produce a thing of such frivolity is a wonder.  It was all of 9° in that place; they gave each person a full-body parka like the kind the guys working the freezer cases at Costco wear.  They kept it that way with a mazework of overhead ducting, each two feet round and heavily insulated, each blowing massive volumes of frigid air.

Turning a huge convention center auditorium into a walk-in freezer is something to marvel at.  Humans must become awful bored to dream up such exotic ways to entertain themselves.  Here in the tropical south we tromped around in real snow and poor Cohen came home with bright red chapped cheeks and chin.  Nice way to make a little money for someone, I suppose.

The rest of the week is spoken for and yet we have much still we’d like to do.  The usual running around and meeting with friends will come after Christmas and the wind-down of Sunday and then the wind-up-again of Disney on Monday.  I’d also like to get a good amount of do-nothing time in while we’re here: hanging with the family, watching the kids play with their presents, drinking beer with the father-in-law – those kinds of things.  I can make it happen.

Goodnight.

a vacation surrounding

In the morning in Florida when you sit on the right couch in my in-laws’ living room you can see the river across the yard.

About a quarter-mile through the palm and oak and across the short-cropped St. Augustine is the water.  Sharaun and I talked about how much we didn’t notice the scenery all those years we lived here – but it really is beautiful.  Right now it’s still early and the sun’s at a slant so it’s just glancing off the tops of all the leaves, looks awesome.  I can see it reflecting off the water of the pool onto the ceiling of the porch outside, rippling.  All of it together is close to perfect for a vacation surrounding.

I ate too much yesterday,  need to watch that.  We picked a day to head over to Disney… after Christmas.  I read some of my book and played with babies and watched television.  I didn’t check e-mail.  I texted with some friends back in California.  It was a great day.

Later.