After two nights of watching singer-songwriters...

I want to MARRY a singer-songwriter.

Seriously.

I understand that they are just people, with all the indignities and imperfections of regular people. They put their pants on one leg at a time just like the rest of us. But they also play instruments, and write artful, intelligent song lyrics, and then sing them. And they've got such nice forearms that they show off while strumming their guitars. Many of them have tattoos. And history. I love tattoos and history.

While watching Joe Pug, Ciara said, "I just want to take him home and feed him." I was like, "Get in line." (Hopefully, Joe Pug likes cold cereal.)

This weekend, Birds on a Wire came to Pullman, and I discovered some new musicians that I'd never heard before. Now I want to tell my slog! Here are two videos that will do a little to recreate the magic of Joe Pug and Justin Townes Earle. But if these men ever come to your town, go see them! Please?

Where I'm Blogging From.

(This is the moss on my roof. I think it's lovely, and appropriate for St. Paddy's Day!)

Dear Readers (are you still there? are you? I wouldn't blame you if you went away--I did. Sorry! It's been Spring Break over here in the Spider House*),

Question: Have you ever done the wrong thing for all the right reasons? Have you? Take last night, for example. I did the wrong thing: I stayed out until 6 am. Six! I mean, we're not in Spain, amigos! And I'm not twenty-one! 6 am is for younger people--people whose to-do lists don't read like mine: "Snow tires; ceiling mold; taxes."

But, I did it for all the right reasons! See, I'm blowing this town in a few short months, which means that everything that happens here has the added sweetness of not lasting forever. One thing I'll absolutely miss, and mourn, and grieve for, is nights like last night, when Nikiforos made an out-and-out feast--at 5 o'clock in the morning.

At 3 am, we went to Winco. Winco at 3 am is weird. Even weirder? Our shopping list: 1 whole chicken; 1 onion; chicken broth; jasmine rice; fresh thyme (also, stewed tomatoes, but Nem just had those in the back of his car. I still don't know why. Who drives around with stewed tomatoes?)

Me (at the checkout): "Are you sure we don't just want a frozen pizza?"

Oh, no, we did not just want a frozen pizza. Because the chicken and rice and tomato sauce that Nick made was so good (if slow to cook)! And then Nem brought over his homemade, still hot-from-the-oven, challah bread. Because, well, apparently people bake bread in the middle of the night and then bring it over to their friends' houses. Think of all we've been missing by sleeping! I don't ever want to sleep again. (Except today. Today I really want to sleep. I'm exhausted.)

Even though I had to walk home this morning, still in high heels, past my gym which had already opened for the day and had people inside it, working out; and even though I haven't accomplished any of the exciting projects on my to-do list--sorry ceiling mold!, it was worth it. I mean, these things do not happen every day. What are the chances that in the next place I go, people will make middle-of-the-night feasts and fresh bread? And even if they do make delicious chicken-and-rice dishes, what are the odds that they'll be as generous, warm, culinary and nocturnal, as the friends I've made here?

Slim to none, I'm afraid. I'm sure that new friends in new places will have their own blessings and behaviors that I'll embrace, but their food won't taste as good. Which means that while I'm here, I've got to stay awake and eat up. And nap in the afternoon.

Sacked out,

Kendall

PS: The asterisk above* refers to the fact that I was going to blog yesterday, but then a spider crawled out of my laptop and across my keyboard. Right under my finger tips! And it ruined my blogging mojo. But now I'm back, and risking life, limb and spider bites to bring you my slog. You're welcome.

Good writers borrow, great writers steal.

I have been accused, lately, of being a blogger-slacker. But I think I might be more of a slacker-blogger. I'm a bit of a slogger. Honestly. Welcome to my slog.

And in my defense, well, I don't have a defense. Does a blogger need a defense for slacking? I hope not. My brain has just been elsewhere: TV writing, killing spiders, trying to save my suicidal plants, eating chips on the futon, cleaning up the crumbs from eating chips on the futon, watching Friday Night Lights, etc. It's a busy life. Mondays, in particular, are busy. So, I feel compelled to slack again, because I can't think of anything new to say.

That's not entirely accurate. More accurately, I don't have anything appropriate to say. I've got something kind of inappropriate I want to say. But one of the greatest challenges in my life is determining what is appropriate and what is inappropriate, and more difficult even, is deciding how inappropriate it is acceptable to be. So I think I'm just going to put a pipe in it. This time.

IN THE MEANTIME, I encourage you wholeheartedly to visit this blog to see pictures of more cute hipster puppies like Chuleta above: hipsterpuppies.tmblr.com. (I was trying to describe "hipsters" to some Idaho friends, because hipsters abound in my hometown, and I mostly just kept saying they were "ironic." Not in word, but more in deed. As in, "They drink PBR, but ironically. They wear vintage Nikes, but ironically." I think hipster puppies are so funny because dogs can be many, many wonderful things but they are entirely incapable of irony. God bless them.)

Book 'em, Dano. I'm Five-O.

Confetti! Streamers! Strobe lights and slow dances to songs by sweet-voiced R & B groups! My blog is 50 today!

Being fifty, in the blogosphere, is like being thirteen or fourteen in human years. Which is to say, my blog's got a really bad haircut and a totally unrequited crush on someone who sits in front of her during social studies (Brandon Miller.) (He doesn't read this blog.) (Trust me.)

And she dreams that someday they will slow dance to this song:

ALL 4 ONE - I Swear @ Yahoo! Video

(It won't happen. He'll date her best friend, she'll date his best friend, everyone with break up with everyone, and isn't that really for the best? It is. Even if she doesn't know it yet. Life.)

In December, I started this blog because, well, the weather was really dark and gloomy, and I was bored, and mostly, I wanted to see if I could do it. It was hard to imagine making it to fifty posts, and I sort of set that number as a mile-marker for myself. Which I have now REACHED. And frankly, I'm not accustomed to reaching my goals. What do I do next?

Do I set my sights on number 100? Is that what goal-reachers do? Just set a new goal that is further out of reach? Sheesh. Exhausting.

(Fifty more posts to go, Blog. Then, a big, big, big party. With candy and slow-dances. We can do it.)

Adolescently,

Kendall

PS: Thank you everyone who offered guesses about the various photos from unpublished posts! Do you want to know the actual reasons for the photos? If not, stop reading! If you do, Okay.

1. Sam Waterson: Marshall and Carmar76, I am obsessed with L&O, and all it's spin-offs, because it is a TV show that is always on. And that's my kind of show. If I ever fought the law, and Jack McCoy came after me, I wouldn't mind it. I think he's cute, and I'm not sorry. The photo, though, was for a post I wrote because I was sure the neighbors on both sides of me were dead. They weren't. One had gone on vacation, and the other had moved his chair back from the window so I couldn't see it when I peered through to check that he was alive, as I do, periodically. I decided that a few less episodes of Law & Order were in order.

2. Lacy Sea Dragon: This one was a misguided attempt to find a picture of my favorite amusement park ride, The Sea Dragon (big viking ship, hurtles your stomach up into your brains as it swings back and forth). The reason why I was looking for a picture of that particular ride was because my blog had just tripled in size in about two days, and that made me feel, also, like my stomach had been hurtled up into my brains. However, this dragon does look like the lettuce in my fridge. (I'm impressed, Ricki!)

3. Just, you know, being embarrassed at security. Which I am. Every. time. I. fly. Twice, in the past month, I've gone through with an attractive boy either in front of or behind me in line, and I hate being barefoot in front of strangers.

4. Both Katie and SB were close on this one. It was just a blog about, um, height (remember, these are posts that were not good). Here are two pictures to illustrate why height is often on my mind.

(This was Jules' beautiful wedding, but some trick of the sand or camera angle made me look, well, Manute Bol-ish. That's me, the giant one on the end.)

(KP's been one of my best friends since we were fourteen--fifty, in the blogosphere--and usually, I forget that we've got a solid 8.5 inches separating us. Her comment on the last post cracked me up, so I had to post this pic.

In high school, our teacher always called us "Mutt and Jeff." I never got the reference. But I just googled them:

KP, thoughts? (I like your top hat.))

PPS: Sorry, my blog is getting loooong and unwieldy in her old-age. Back to brevity tomorrow!

Honey, will you take the blog out for a walk?

Seattle in pictures:

After a terrifying (terrifying!) trip through Eastern Washington and over the profoundly tall Snoqualmie Pass, I arrived in Seattle. On Wednesday, Katie took a "personal day" from work, and we ventured out into the neighborhood of Queen Anne. I did something I had never done before: I brought my camera along to document the fascinating items we encountered (so I could "blogument" my trip here, obviously).

1. We started out with a latte at Cafe Fiore. It was a quintessentially "Seattle" coffee shop (read: it was rainy, and we came inside where they made us coffee, which we paid for--so Seattle.) I told Katie I would take a picture of my latte for the blog. She said, "Don't they make leaves in the foam in Idaho?" (they do, if you go to the right place...a little corner shop called the OWC.) I said, "I think it's pretty. It will look pretty on my blog." I took a picture. Then, I picked the lid up off the table to put it on the to-go cup. Katie asked, "So, it doesn't bother you that your lid was face down on the table and now you're going to put your mouth on it?" I considered. I hadn't thought about it before, but it totally did bother me. Still, to save face, I pretended it didn't. I said something about the strength of my antibodies.

2. Katie said, "Look at that cool advertisement for Queen Anne Fresh Eggs." I was all, "Blog." Then, "Will you hold my coffee so I can take a picture?" (See #4.)

3. Weird. One white chair just sitting between two white birch trees. The only white items on the block, like some sort of display (only one white tree fit in the photo.) I wanted to sit on the chair, but I was pretty sure I would've ended up at Hogwarts, and, although I've fallen way behind in my reading, from what I hear, Hogwarts has become a pretty scary place.

4. Katie holding my coffee again, so I could take a picture of her holding my coffee so I could take a picture.

5. Orange vespa! Have you ever seen a cheerier color? But isn't the vespa missing a wheel? And doesn't it remind you, just a little, of a three legged dog? The dog's got no idea that it's missing something, so it's a happy dog, but you feel sad for it because a dog should have four legs! A tangerine vespa should have two wheels!

6. Manicure and pedicure. I don't get these very often, on account of I'm uncomfortable with the lingo (mani-pedi), and also being touched. I did very nearly kick the woman painting my toenails when she tickled a tender spot in my arch, but was able to retract my foot right before making contact. Then, she gave a little tug and popped every single one of my toes. pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop. All ten. Glorious! I didn't even know they needed it.

7. Chambord. Hello. I met Chambord. It is the reddest of red liqeurs, with an outrageously ornate bottle with gold. And a crown on top. It looks like something a witch would use to make a potion (at Hogwarts, perchance), or like something Katie would use to make French martinis for a really lovely holiday party with lots of lovely women, and baby Henry.

8. Finally, in conclusion, to wrap up all the ground-breaking lessons I learned on this trip, I took a photograph of white blossoms just because they reminded me of those Hostess Sno-balls (round twinkies covered with shredded coconut) you get at 7-11, and then I wanted a Sno-ball really bad.

All in all: A+(+).

Suspiria

SEE IT. (And I don't bold unless I mean it.)