Winter prep.

The weather guessers have said that there is supposed to be snow, and by Wednesday, we are supposed to have snow, ice, sleet, and I would gather by the hype, the alpacalypse. 

So, as always, we check if we have fuel for the generator, water, food, that sort of thing.  (Rural area here, power goes out enough to make you need back up...) Other than Husband going into milk withdrawal, I think we are sitting pretty good.  And he keeps telling me he can use the dried milk on his cereal.  He can, I can't.  I think it stinks.  (The taste is fine, but I think it literally has a bad odor.) 

So, if all goes well tomorrow, I will do my usual Monday 'stuff', go to the store and get what I have on the ol' list.  Otherwise, I might hunker down with some tea, my knitting (messymimi, I am started on your sock!), and hope that the weather is over hyped and waaaay under realized. 

Would be much more pleasant that way, for me, at least.  No ice would also make walking a smidgen easier...
And Husband less likely to want me to stay in the house continually (he is afraid I will slip and fall.  Which, while a valid point, makes me stir crazy in very short order.)

So, the only thing left is for me to find my ultra sexy 80's vintage rainbow snow boots, and I am ready for almost anything.

Except the alpacalypse.  Perhaps I should cry llamantations...

(She dives, she runs!  Two, count 'em, TWO horrid puns!)

***

Party.  What social gathering rocked your socks off in 2010?  Describe the people, music, food, drink, clothes, shenanigans.

Ok, this is sort of cheating, but for me, this WAS the social gathering of 2010.  Mojo.  So I put the blogity link things here, below, that was pretty thoroughly covered when I got back...

Mojo
Mojo 2
Mojo 3
Mojo 4
Mojo 5

Told ya I covered it... ; )  And I since I rocked my socks off, I even knitted new Mojo socks. 

Mojo, The Final One. (LONG.)

Too Much Ain't Enough

So, I stood through almost the whole concert...  (Cheating, this is from the Tom Petty website, here is the set list...)

Kings Highway

You Don't Know How It Feels


I Won't Back Down


Free Fallin'


Oh Well


Mary Jane's Last Dance


Drivin' Down To Georgia


Breakdown


Jefferson Jericho Blues


First Flash Of Freedom


Running Man's Bible


I Should Have Known It


Good Enough


Learning To Fly


Don't Come Around Here No More


Refugee


Encore

You Wreck Me


Mystic Eyes


Runnin' Down A Dream
 
I finally had to sit down around "Running Man's Bible", but I had been up and swaying, if not exactly dancing, to that point.  But I was stepped on a couple times by the quart beer drinker young man.  I honestly wasn't counting, but he had at least two big beers, that I saw, and drank the better part of his girlfriend's drink, and I suspect he had more than that, as he was getting more and more unsteady as the evening wore on. 

Let's just say, I adore the piano playing of Benmot Tench.  I sat down for a little bit to watch him play during "Driving Down to Georgia", (didn't make sense, but where he was, I could see him better when I was sitting than when I was standing), and I noticed that the young man had slipped into his seat as well.  Didn't really pay much attention to this, people were standing and sitting as the mood struck them.  Benmot was stunning, as usual, and at the end of his part, I screamed "WOOO! AWESOME, BENMOT!!!"  The young man jumped.  He had been sleeping!  I ask you, what would it take to sleep in a rock concert?  Especially since we were almost directly in front of the speakers, and I am pretty sure that he had no earplugs in. 

An absolutely terrible photo of Benmot (the one with the hat.) 
Sadly, it was the best one I could get.

It seemed like the guys were wound up.  This wound up the crowd, which seemed to energize the guys... 

I still don't know if he would have tripped or not, but I was watching Mike Campbell, and the guitar has a long cord.  He walked forward during one of the songs, then clunk, stopped, looking a bit surprised.  The cord had wrapped around the amp.  He backed up, kicked the cord just a little, to get it to go over the amp, and walked forward again. Clunk.  Stopped again.  I swear, the man had an "oh, brother" expression, rolling his eyes, and he stopped, grabbed the cord with one hand, tossed over the amp, then walked forward to get to the area he was trying to move to.  Never, however, missing a beat, or getting tangled in the cord... 

Mike Campbell (left),
while Tom P. is getting all of us to sing and clap along.

They played "Learning to Fly", and there are two versions.  One I enjoy, it's a nice song, and it's the one generally played on the radio.  There is a different version, and I tear up every time I hear it.  I adore this version. 

They played this version. 

I was cheering and bawling, and cheering some more.  Then had to find my hankie, because I had tear spatter all over my glasses...  Crying and cheering at the same time makes for projectile tears.

They finished and left the stage, and the crowd got a bit restless awaiting the encore.  Finally someone started chanting Pet-ty, Pet-ty, Pet-ty, and it didn't take long before the whole crowd was roaring PET-TY, PET-TY, until the band all ran back on stage.  I can't remember if it was during the main act, or the encore, but Tom Petty started playing maracas, and the crowd went absolutely bananas.  I hate to say it, but I was more annoyed than anything, it was the one time I could have gotten an absolutely clear shot, he was standing dead center in front of where I was, and the camera WOULD NOT WORK.  He was obviously having a great time with the crowd, so I just swore at the camera again, and enjoyed the music.  (No, I don't know why the crowd went bananas, maybe they were just a big bunch of maraca fans?)

One of the nicer pictures I was able to get,
I just couldn't get them all in one photo, but here's a group shot.

At the end, the group came out, linked arms and bowed.  Then I noticed that people were throwing things onto the stage.  It looked like someone threw a towel.  Tom started to turn, and the guys all grabbed him, picked up the towel, Tom then smiled and wrote on it, and tossed it back into the crowd. 

Okay...

About to Give Out

I got up, and my feet hurt. A lot.  The crowd was headed for the exits, and I finally figured out where I needed to head to get to the handicapped area, which seemed a lot more inviting than when I had entered...  I got to a gate, and waited while some fans had a b.s. session with one of the staff.  I was starting to be in real pain by this time, and wasn't really wanting to stand.  The staff guy finally noticed I was leaning heavily on my cane for about 20 minutes (on cement), and piped up, oh, you want the next exit for the shuttle bus. 

(Lovely...)

I trod up to the next gate, and looked around at a huge collection of folks with crutches.  I think that most of them were sporting broken legs.  We all started talking, (I somewhat less so than others, as I was about to cry, from standing), and someone said, hey, the concerts over, let's go steal chairs while we are waiting.  Some absolute angel brought me over a chair.  I nearly collapsed.  We all were talking about the first gate, and I said I had been waiting by it, until directed to the correct gate.

"Didn't you see? That's where Tom and the band go in and out!"

That led to discussion of the fact that we all thought he should come out and say hi to us, even leading to one gal yelling over the fence, "HI, TOM, COME OVER HERE, WE LOVE YOU, AND WE ARE HANDICAPPED!"  I told her that might be more likely that he'd want to run the other way, bellowing like that.  She laughed. 

Soon, we started discussing why various people were on crutches, the usual stumbles and falls, but one had JUST come back from getting her leg in a cast.  She'd seen the show the night before, and she had taken a spill in the campground.  She told the people there she was NOT going to miss the second show.  And, she didn't.  She said she knew the Quincy Emergency Room real well...  I don't know if I would have been quite the super trooper she was, let me tell you. 

Somehow, as the time wore on (for some reason, it took forever to get the bus to us), we started talking about how many concerts we'd been to.  I was the rookie, first concert.  One gal had been to 8. 

I don't quite yet KNOW how, but this led to us all singing "Beer Run, B, double E, double R, U, N, Beer run, all we need is a ten and a fiver,  then we need a car and a sober driver..."  (I suspect if Tom and Company had been near the fence, they probably would have run to the bus and told the driver to floor it!) 

The bus finally arrived, and I sat behind the 8 concert gal.  I commented on her hoodie, with Tom's Picture on it.  She beamed, and said, yeah, I have sat up front every concert, and when I threw my coat up there, the guys made Tom sign it, and I got it back, even!

Kinda dark but, that's his signature, right next to the silk screen!
She was on floating on air!

All Mixed Up

The bus took us to the general admission gate, then let us out.  Whereupon, I was promptly lost.  There is about 5 or six gates, and they were locked.  A security guard walked by, I asked him which was the gate out, he pointed at one of the locked gates, and kept walking.  Greaaat.  I found that I was near the porta potties, which, blessedly, the one I picked didn't look outrageously nasty.  I then went on the hunt for the way out, again.  I finally followed a couple that seemed to know where they were going, and was out. I had tried calling Husband a few times, and as good as the coverage was before the concert, I might as well have been carrying a pet rock in my pocket, after.  I saw Husband walking with a concerned look on his face down to where the gates led, and so I pulled out my pocket flashlight, and started sending Morse Code to him.  He registered immediately, and sent back code to me (we both carry pocket flashlights).  So, having established that it was the two of us, I managed to get over to him, and we walked back to the truck. 

I told him about the concert, and he told me about some charming young gentlemen parked next to him that drank in the back of their truck until they felt the urge, then would drop trou and pee off the back of the vehicle.  (Modesty of bodily functions seemed highly lacking for some reason.)  Husband's main concern was that they didn't pee ON his truck, and they didn't, so he just figured, ignore it.  He said, (not a big surprise), he could hear the concert from the truck.  (And this is a man with a hearing problem...)  I mentioned that I wondered if I'd been around marijuana, it smelled strange at the concert.  Husband leaned over and sniffed.

"Yep." 

Uh. Okay.  I am so sheltered.

We took off, and noticed that people were just walking, and driving, where ever they wanted to, it was sort of a herd mentality, (this was later confirmed, that a lot of people were mooing, because of the way they were treated at the concert), and we just took it slow and easy, not wanting to deal with a bunch of drunk/stoned/crazy/angry people. 

We managed to get out on the road, and then couldn't find landmark one that we recognized.  I finally saw a deputy and told Husband to pull over, then Husband asked if we were headed the right way.  The deputy started to tell us just to go, but I called out that we didn't know which way our campground was.  He asked, "Which camp?" 

Husband piped up, Veneta.

(Veneta is a town in Oregon. A town famous for a hippie festival, where imbibing recreational weed is winked at, at the most.)

I quickly said, VENTURE, not Veneta!  The deputy leaned over and sniffed at Husband, then said, up to the camp ahead, make a safe turn around, and go the OTHER way.   Soon enough, we managed to get back the right direction, and were campward bound. 

We arrived, and buzzed right past the poor check in lady, who was also on crutches. (I was beginning to suspect an epidemic of broken legs in Washington!)  We backed up, showed her our bands (to prove we were indeed camping there), and then went to bed. I told Husband he was not to wake me up, or I would remove his head from his shoulders bodily, when I woke up, I would wake up.

Time to Move On

So, I woke up, and registered the sun wasn't up.  Husband was awake, lying quietly. I looked at my watch.  He said, It's 4.  I sighed.  Somehow, I figured I might actually be SLEEPING the morning after the concert. No such luck.  So, I got up, and bless him, Husband made me a cup of tea.  We left about 5, and had several people crawl out bleary eyed from tents, looking daggers at us.  Oops.  We left quickly. 

The mountain in the morning sure looks bright and alive!  

Husband decided to treat me to seeing Multlomah Falls, and we would go along Highway 30.  This turned out to be a problem.  Highway 30 is an Historic Highway, and has remained as built, when Model A's were new.  We had a dually.  After several very close drive bys, Husband turned around and said he couldn't take the drive up, we were going back to the main drag and he was getting off the highway. (This is a man that can handle Downtown Seattle at Rush hour...)  So, the following are pictures that I managed to convince the camera to take of Horsetail Falls, the Multlomah Falls Lodge, and a teeensy peak at Multlomah Falls.

Horsetail Falls

Multlomah Falls Lodge

The best picture I could get of Multlomah Falls from the truck,
Husband wanted OUT of there at this point...

So, after a quick stop for breakfast at the Golden Arches Breakfast Club, we headed back to our house.  In Laws hadn't been eaten by the vicious llamas, Rudee was ecstatic to see us, Tuxedo tried to see if he could become one with my foot any time I moved, and all seemed well with the world.

So, asked one of my blog friends, would I do it again?

...

Probably not. 

Don't get me wrong, I loved it (well, except for the f-bomb woman, that was a little spooky), and I will have memories and pictures to enjoy, and was able to see and hear the energy of a concert, like my friends have spoken of, that I never understood before. 

But.  I wanted to do this, more or less to see what it was like.  I have.  It was good,well, great, actually.  If someone gave me free tickets to another concert, and I could talk to my bright, shiny new doctor about some strong pain pills for that night, I might consider it.  But, even then, I have my music, when I want, where I want, and somehow, I don't think Tom and Company would want to set up in the front pasture to play live while I cleaned out the hen pen. 

A "bucket list" item, perhaps?  It was always a "if I only could". 

Well, I grew a backbone, and I did.  So, now on to the next adventure. 

You know, I have heard that Sturgis is pretty interesting, when they have the Motorcycle Rally.  I think Husband might even want to take pictures there. 

Of the bikes, of course...  :)

Mojo- Part 4

The Waiting is the Hardest Part

I called my Mom (to both see if the phone worked, and to have her know I WAS THERE!!) , 5 bars, it was like she was in the next chair.  I looked around, and noticed people had drinks.  Booze drinks.  I was about 14 chairs from the bar.  Considering it was near 90*, I was not surprised to see a lot of people getting libations.  I was surprised that they were allowed to carry it out to their seats.  (Either the rules are different in Washington, or the booze patrol wasn't paying attention.)  The speakers were almost in line with me, and I decided to put my ear plugs in before anything started.  I love Tom Petty music, I am not willing to go deaf over it... 

One fun crazy man plopped himself down dead center front row.  The security asked for his ticket.  (I could barely hear this, but it sounded something like he just wanted to see what it was like to be up front.)  They told him he could not sit there, leave.  (Killjoys... I was thinking it might be fun to go up and take a picture from there, and they weren't allowing that, either.)  But, anyway, the fun crazy man, unbroken, stood up, pirouetted, then jumped up on the chairs and trotted along, until he reached the end of the row, then jumped down, danced across the aisle, then jumped up to the next row, and repeated, until he reached his seat, about 2 rows ahead of me.  Then he proceeded to dance, ON HIS CHAIR, to the piped in music they had while setting up.  Considering they were just plain ol' metal folding chairs, I was wondering if he realized how not sturdy those things were.  Not that I cared, he was having fun, and it was a tickle to watch him.  

I saw a lot of people getting something that I would like to have gotten, but didn't, because I didn't know if it was a booze drink.  (I don't drink.)  I call it the "Guitar Slushie", it has ground ice with green and red stuff, and it was served in a guitar shaped container.  I sipped my water and took a picture instead.  (It's not a great picture, but you can see it near the center, in the man's hand.)

I waited, and wondered why that there were so few people in the seats.  I was nearly alone for most of the Joe Cocker concert.  It sllooooowly filled, and I was hearing more than one person fuming about the line. (And yes, there was a line, I am guessing 4 to 6 people deep, and several blocks long, so if they had to check all of them like they did me...  Wow.) 

I sure enjoyed Joe Cocker.  I was somewhat unfamiliar with his music, except for one or two songs, I shall have to remedy that.  He had a great sound!  His saxophonist, and guitar lead were terrific, as well not hard on the eyes, either.  People were dancing, some were singing, and it was very relaxed.  Every so often, Joe Cocker would give this big leap, and people would cheer.  He sang "With a Little Help From My Friends", and I think everyone in the venue sang along, from those that were old enough to have seen his first time on stage, to my age, from hearing it on the show "Wonder Years", to kids, that probably heard it from either of the above.    Then he played "You Can Leave Your Hat On".  That was so much fun, the band was all swaying and sultry, and then I noticed this one guy in the audience.  70, if he was a day.  He was doing this mock striptease to the music, and approval of all around, and the only thing was, he kept taking his hat OFF!  I don't know who received more applause when the song was over, Joe, or that guy! 

So Joe Cocker finished up, and they started changing equipment for Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers.  They started with the piped in music again, Aerosmith, Rolling Stones, la la la, then came on Warren Zevon's "Werewolves of London".  I was just watching the crew doing the switch over, when the part, "Ah OOOOOOOOO, Werewolves of London" played, and without thinking, I howled.  So did approximately 5000 other people.  There was a startled silence, (even the crew doing the switch over looked up), then everyone started laughing, and it became a great big sing along.  That was great fun, and everyone laughed and clapped lightly when it was over.

A small group was walking at the front, and I noticed that one man was staggering.  Next thing I know, he falls.  Not a slight stumble, but flat out like a cut down tree.  He went face first into a bunch of chairs, and his idiot friends, what did they do, laugh and tell him to get up.  Well, he didn't.  Moreover, the chairs he knocked down, knocked a few behind, like dominoes, so security had to set up probably about 30 or so chairs.  I didn't see what happened to him, I just hope he was all right, and that his friends get the karma they so richly deserve for not helping him...  Grrr.

A Face in the Crowd

This was the seats behind me just before Joe Cocker came on...

Aaaand, this was the best picture I could get right before Tom Petty came on. I believe they said there was about 20,000 or so people.  I believe them...  The area in the back was grass, and you just sat.  There was no room that I could see anywhere on that hill.  I think even farting might have been a real problem, your butt cheeks would have been squashed shut from all the people you were shoehorned in with!

The people who were going to sit next to me showed up, and it was a youngish man and his girlfriend.  They had a cooler.  He then took out a beer.  I am guessing a quart size or so.  He handed the same to his girlfriend.  They drank, and necked, until Tom Petty came on.

It's Good to be King

Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers came on, and everyone rose from their seats.  Ok, I am a dork.  I freely, freely admit this, but my first thought was, why is everyone standing?  We aren't playing Handel's Messiah here...  But then I realized, maybe it was a good thing I brought my cane. NO ONE WAS SITTING BACK DOWN.  And no one did, during most of the concert.  The concert music was tremendously powerful.  I mean this literally, as well as musically.  They started playing, and the sound hit me.  It pulsated!  I felt like I was being hit by waves.  Those guys started fast, and kept it fast all evening.  I started taking pictures, and somewhere along the line, my camera said, forget IT, not going to work no more.  I then snarled, cursed it and all of its respective parts, and then remembered my camera phone.  However, it helps to know how to USE the camera on the camera phone.  I ended up getting a picture or two, and somehow a 5 second movie of them.  So, coming to the conclusion that I wasn't going to get many more pictures, I stood back and enjoyed the craziness...

I am hoping to crop and brighten some of the pictures I did get, for obvious reasons (glaring blond hair just sorta takes away from the effect for me...)

She was an American Girl...

Mojo, part 3.

The Trip to Pirate's Cove

We arrived at a town outside of the Gorge, and first thing we noticed when we stopped, it was WARM.  We'd dressed for the valley in Oregon, in the morning, and had been in a truck with A/C most of the day.  The temp was just shy of 90 degrees, making our long pants and shirts a slight bit of overkill, but I had dressed for the concert, and wasn't about to change at that point! 

We ended up in a small campground, and saw some... Very slightly dressed women, with some frankly amazing art on various parts of their persons.  We saw several males that were perhaps more dressed, but no less tattooed.  (One had a tattooed "X" on his nose.  I didn't even ask...)  We finally stopped and asked about getting a place to stay.  Well, HUSBAND asked.  He wanted me to stay in the truck.  I really suspect he was nervous about some of the bigger gents that were lounging in the cabins nearby.  Which amuses me, he was willing to camp there, but not have me check if camping was available?  Eh.

After a quick conference with some well burned, heavily tattooed folk, Husband said we needed to look for a store, they were the ones that sold the camping spots.  But did I really want to stay here?  He started trying to convince me that we should check at the campground at the amphitheater, as well as one about a mile or so away.  Or that we should check that we could just camp in the parking area. 

People will tell you I am not the most patient woman in the world...

And they are right.  This was the moment when my eyes glowed red, and I reminded him that I had checked, there was NO CAMPING in the parking lot, and I had found NO VACANCIES at the Gorge campground.  I wasn't sure about the one right by, but with so many people going to be at the concert, I was somewhat less than optimistic.  Well, he said, I will check at this store, and then we can go up and see what the camp at the amphitheater has.  

Yeah, sure, thought I.  It had been sold out for several WEEKS before the concert, and a spot was going to magically appear at our arrival... Uh.  Yeah...

I waited as he ran into the store, knitting some more on my sock.  He came out, and said he'd gone into the wrong store, it was the store on the OTHER side of the street.  So we go over there.  Husband again asks me to wait. 

Knit. Knit. Knit...  While knitting, I saw a group leave, there was a pontoon party boat with several guys in Hawaiian shirts holding something steady in back.  I glanced at it, and it clicked that it was a keg.  They came to a stop, and one of the guys put his foot on the keg, raised his hand to his eyes to shade them, and started peering around to direct the guy driving.

If Captain Morgan and Jimmy Buffet had a love child, this guy would have been it. 

Husband returns, and says they have 8 camp spots left, and were pretty sure there wouldn't be all that much up ahead, unless we hurried because "Petty seems to be a pretty popular venue."

(Gee, ya think?!??) 

Having had enough of the woudsie-shouldsies, and being the keeper of the cash for our trip, I asked how much, he told me, I stripped off the bills and told him to get the spot.  He quibbled, wondering if we should just go check... I think my glare got the point across. 

(Might I add, in my defense, I am not usually this snarly to my husband, but I had asked him SEVERAL times as early as APRIL if we should get a hotel, camp spot, etc., and he just seemed to blow it off.  So this last minute stuff tended to stab under my skin just a bit too deep and quick to ignore.) 

So we received these brilliant orange bands that designated us as official campers of this place called Vantage.  We then went over to a small restaurant, and had a... Well, it was fish and chips.  I think, however, either they didn't cook it long enough, or the oil wasn't hot enough. 

It was very...

Um. 

Well, I have had worse, but it would not make a Michelin 3 star rating, let's just say.  I will only give them this much credit.  Lots of customers, only one restaurant that we could see, and there was only one guy cooking, 2 gals serving.  But it still wasn't a meal I particularly want to repeat.  Fish never should have the consistency of Gummi Bears, is all I am going to say.  (And no, I don't like Gummi Fish, either...) 

Waiting for Tonight

Husband thought we should drive to the amphitheater, to see if we could get in early, and where to park.  We soon realised that even 4 hours before the concert, there were a LOT of people headed that way.  We passed the nearby campground, and it had a full sign.  We finally arrived at the parking lot, and Husband, who normally looks placid, looked fretful. 

You need to take your cane, you are not going to be able to walk this.  I argued that I was already taking my camera, my coat, a water bottle, and what was I going to do with the stupid cane? 

He took the high ground, you want to enjoy the concert, if your ankle hurts, you will be concentrating on that.  I took one last stab, trying to keep my Rocker Vanity firmly in place, but I will have to drag that sucker around, and we don't even know where to park! 

Husband then proceeded, in his methodical fashion, to find a person, and say right off, my wife is handicapped, I am not staying, is there someplace I can drop her off at?  After a few grunts and points, we were directed to a tent.  It was the people heading up the handicapped parking, and they showed Husband where he could drop me off at.  He still looked a bit 'off', and then pulled over at another place, and checked with another of the yellow shirted people.  I didn't hear the conversation, but when he got back in, he looked relieved.  He found out that he could stop at the handicapped parking, and I could go in through that entrance.  I told him that I wasn't that handicapped...  He looked me squarely in the eye, and said, you can stand for 2 hours waiting to go in?  (These words would turn out to be prophetic.)  I finally gave in, ok, I will use the *&^% cane.  Grumble.  We also found out we wouldn't be let in until 6, and that unattended vehicles would be towed after the event.

So we headed back to Vantage, took a shortish nap, or at least as much a nap as I could, being that I was just slightly passed wired, and we relaxed until it was time to head out. 

Love is a Long Road

We headed back just a bit after 5 ish, and found out that there is a LOT of people that had the same idea.  Husband said it was about 10 miles from our camp to the Gorge.  After about 6 miles, all we could see was cars.  Lots and lots of cars.  On a two lane road.  All headed to the same place.  Most of the people were in groups, with various Petty (and Greatful Dead, oddly enough), logos on the vehicles.  It was slow going, with Husband and I commenting on the scenery, how we'd contact each other after the concert, and the fencing that was along the roadway.  (It was a way to put up fencing that had what looked like curled wire in between fence posts.  I think Husband said it was to allow small animals to pass, as well as to not use so many posts.  It made the fence look like it was woven, somewhat.)  We passed the time with some more small talk about the vehicles, people IN the vehicles, how much the carbon footprint might be for this, just the usual stuff.

Suddenly, we see a truck with a camper come to a complete stop, and a young gal come leaping out of it like a panicked deer.  She sprinted over to the only bushes around, dropped trou, and started peeing.  She seemed very, very, VERY unconcerned about the audience, in fact, she waved as we went by.  I waved back, but I think I was probably blushing.  Next thing I know, she is sprinting back to the truck, that is going at a bit past a walking pace, the door opens, and several hands reach out and grab, launching her back in. 

Well! 

Husband just shook his head, and I think I said something about when ya gotta go...  We arrived at the parking lot, and the attendent just told Husband to park.  He did so, and when I got out, the attendant told him to stay there.  I have no idea why, but he was allowed to stay in the handicapped parking area the whole time while I was at the show.  We didn't pay for it, so I don't know that we should have, but the attendant seemed to think that was what should happen, so, I got out, and walked.  I then realized I had not a real clue where the handicapped entrance was.

I Don't Wanna Fight

I finally asked enough people to get oriented to where the entrance was.  Like the one time I walked in Las Vegas, I found out looks can be deceiving...  It was a long walk to the entrance!  I had my jacket on one arm, and decided it was easier to walk, by using the cane.  I wandered, and wandered, and finally asked one of the traffic people, who pointed me more or less directly to the gate.  I went in, and saw the line.  I looked back and saw it was at least 4 to 6 people wide, and I had not a clue how long, but my guess would be several city blocks.  And the handicapped entrance, empty, seperated by a flimsy little fence. 

I walk in.  About halfway down, a teensy gal leans way over the fence from the general admission side, and just roars at me, "ARE YOU A VIP?  ARE YOU??!??"  (I was later to learn, this was also the VIP entrance.)  She was literally reaching out to grab me, and not knowing for sure what I had done, I stepped back to the other fence, flattening myself out a bit, so she couldn't grab my jacket or cane.  Three guys, that looked like they would have been too scary for Hell's Angels, turned around and told her, LOOK, SHE IS HANDICAPPED!  SHE HAS A CANE!!!  

Whereupon, she told them, with numerous f-bomb laced screeching, that she would just keep her *ed up mouth *ing shut, she just *ing wanted to *ing know if I was a *ing VIP, and that she didn't need their *ing sh#t! 

I decided that either she was drunk, crazy, both, or there was soon to be a fight, and I didn't want to be there when any of the above came to a head, so I walked, with the cane and my jacket ahead of me, as quickly as I could, to the area where I saw people ahead.

 

Fortune would have it, I found the place to go in.  I had to be screened, first.  I was sweating this, as I had my camera phone that records, and didn't know if I would have to call Husband to come and get it, (and deal with a truly crazy woman...)  The man just glanced at my phone, said it was fine, asked me to open my purse.  I did, he checked that the bottle had a seal (I guess that you can't bring open containers of any kind in), then asked for my jacket. 

He then opened every pocket (it has 6), turned it upside down, and felt in all the crevices, and the arms were checked.  I was rather surprised, it's a biker jacket, but it didn't seem that nefarious.  I then read a sign saying no fireworks, weapons, or drugs in the venue.  When I received my jacket back (and made sure I had my lucky quarter in the pocket, after all that), I went to turn my ticket in. 

Does it say something about how old school I am,  that I was expecting my ticket to be consumed in some manner, punched, torn, taken from me, something?  I handed it to the ticket taker, he ran a scanner over it, like it was a pound of hamburger, then handed it back to me, while putting a band on my wrist.  He then directed me to the bus, taking folks to the VIP/Handicap entrance.    I felt like a superchick, compared to some of the oxygen carrying, limping folk on the bus!  But we arrived, and I wandered around, parsing out where my seat was.  Most of the people were helpful, except for one dork that said, yeah, it's right over here, pointing in the general direction of the stage.  (Which, while it might have been a great spot, might not have been acceptable to the rest of the audience...)  But I managed to find my seat, and rested, waiting for the music.  

And you know, the waiting is the hardest part...

 

The drive over. (Mojo)

The chipmunk we dubbed Bowling Pin.  He doesn't look it so much in this picture, but he had bootie to spare.  Not a tiny guy...

These were just a few of the hundreds of wind turbines we saw.  I am guessing, but I suspect they are at least 100 feet high. 

I don't know if the striping effect on the hills is natural, or man made, but I thought it was really interesting.  Especially watching the birds that had made nests on some of the higher ledges...

A view we saw for quite a way. I thought it was gorgeous. (Gorge-ous? Ouch...)

Mojo, a story of a few parts... (Or as many as I can milk outta the sucker...)

And so the story begins.

(Probably, there will be pictures.  Just not on today's blog.)

Something Good Coming

Husband and I finally sort of agreed on the plan of attack.   I was not really sure about the sleeping in the truck part, but he'd gone to the effort to get a covered truck canopy, that made it like a small tent.  (Well, if a tent was out of  insulated metal, and had windows all around...)  I asked him when we were going to head out, and expected midnight, 3am, something along those lines.  He responded, oh, about 7 or so. 

WH- AAAAT??? 

Well, says he, you don't have to be at the concert until about 7:30 pm.  If we drive steadily, we should be there sometime about 3 or so.  (Steadily?  Time for a reality check...)

Husband, you do remember that we agreed that I get potty and walk stops, RIGHT?  (As much as I love my husband, his idea of driving to someplace is get in, drive, get to destination.  Potty is not usually in the equation...)  But, he had planned for that, so I figured it was OK.  So, I figured I had better go over the list of items I needed to bring. 

Husband asked, do you have your ticket? Yes. 

In fact, I had put it in my purse the night before.  After finishing all the morning ablutions of brushing and cleaning, I packed things I needed.  Mom called. 

Have you put your ticket in?  Yes, I said, double checking. 

PIL's had shown up a few days earlier, so I had a note on how to feed the various animals, and was walking MIL through the process.  She was fine with everyone but the llamas, she was afraid of being spat upon, so she said FIL could do that.  (Why, oh why, does everyone fear llama spit?  It's not caustic, doesn't burst into flame, it stinks a bit, but that's about it.  And my guys generally don't spit at people when there is food involved.)  So, after running through the gamut of animal food instruction, egg collection, and where to avoid dog and chicken poo, I ask, any questions? 

Yes, do you have your ticket?

Grumble.

Ahem. Why, yes, I do.  (Can we detect an itty bitty theme going on here?  I realize I am a bit scatterbrained, but SHEESH!)

So I get the last of the stuff packed, and realize, I don't have my knitting.  Now THAT'S important!  I get some black and red yarn (the color of the CD cover) for a sock that I have already dubbed "Mojo Socks", and stuff it into my bag, with needles and tools, and a pattern. 

Wait... 

Where is my pattern?  Hmmm.  Nope.  Over here.... No.  So I grouse a bit, and go in the back and make a copy.  Husband asks, oh, it's a new pattern?  No, just the 'plain vanilla' one I always use.  He stares for a minute, then asks, why do you need the pattern, then?

I almost can't answer him.  I finally say that certain parts, like turning the heel, I haven't memorized.  Which is sort of true, but I guess it's the knitting version of a security blanket for me.  If I have the paper along, I know that I don't have to worry if I forget a decrease, or which row is K1, slip 1.  Husband is a wise man, in this respect, he accepted my answer at face value, and just humored the crazy woman.  He has learned over our 19 years together, that it might not make sense, but it makes harmony.  Sometimes, that's enough.  Especially when travelling.

Into the Great Wide Open

So we get on the road, and after Husband checking AGAIN that I had my ticket, (Which I promptly took out and showed him), we buzzed along, eating miles of highway.  Hit Portland, and I was expecting a lot of traffic. 

But, I should have known.  Husband had done some calculations, checked the trucker's atlas, probably got out a scrying mirror with a direct connection to the state traffic board, and came up with a route that took us right past Portland, and up to Washington with speedy, yet not clogged, traffic flow. 

Soon, we crossed the Mighty Columbia, and were in the state of Washington.  I knit some rounds on the cuff of my sock, and we travelled along some more until a rest area loomed.  Husband asked if I need to use it.  Before I could answer, he said, I do, so let's just stop.  (Uh. Okay. Sure...) He trots over to the facilities, and I people watch.  I was greatly amused to see an older brother (I assume they were related, at any rate) with "wheelies" style shoes, grab little brother, and be pulled along like a water-skier by a boat.  Both seemed to be enjoying the experience.   

Husband returned, and I used the facilities, only to return and realize he wasn't at the pickup.  I look around, to see him sitting off to the side, feeding a chipmunk.  Now this isn't a small, Chip and Dale  chipmunk, this thing is the size of... a small cat.  But it had this little tiny head and upper body, and this huge caboose.  We promptly dubbed him "Bowling Pin".  Mr. Pin was eating the corn chips from Husband's hand readily.  Husband then decided to eat some of the cookies I'd baked.  The chipmunk all but got on his lap to check out the new goodies.  Husband, being the softy that he is, gave Mr. Pin a taste.  That was all it took,  Mr. Pin threw the chip away, and took the hunk of cookie.  Husband picked up the chip and handed to Mr. Pin again, and he tossed over his shoulder, and ran up on Husband's lap with his hands out for more cookie!  No stupid corn chips with that goodness around!  Finally, Husband finished the cookie, and after a last attempt to give the discarded chip to Mr. Pin, and yet another rejection of same, the chipmunk sort of ran/slithered/waddled to a nearby sunny wall and started eating the stash he'd packed in his cheeks.  We laughed, but realized he might have given up on us, not because of lack of food, but because someone walked by with three small dogs.  I have no idea how that might have ended up.  Little hyper dogs, big ol' fat chipmunk...  Perhaps the 'munk was pretty smart to take a powder.

We started heading to Eastern Washington, which meant we were headed UP as well as East. 

Pop, pop. Ping! Poppoppop... 

I don't know about Husband, but my ears sounded like I had a popcorn maker stuck on high where my eardrums should be!  We finally level out, and are in sort of a valley.  Looking up, we start seeing big, white windmills.  I have seen them in pictures, and on TV, but had never actually seen one where I had some context of size.  Those things are HUGE!  I saw a dump truck next to one, and it looked like a toy.  And a SMALL toy, at that.  People, pfft.  They were hardly visible, unless they were directly in front of the big white towers.  It was strangely pretty, tan sand with sage white scrub, brilliant white towers, and blue, blue sky.  We were surprised how random the placement seemed to be.  Husband said it might be because of how the wind flowed over the various hills, so they would get the most efficient use of the space.  Some of them almost looked like a child had scattered jacks, they seemed so random.  (A very large child, and very mobile jacks, but still...)  And again, I was surprised, one or two of them would be just buzzing right along, but the one right next to it would be stock still.  This went on for miles.  We saw new ones being built, the towers were in either three or four sections, and then there were three blades atop.  Husband noticed that, like an airplane, if someone was working on it, they had it tied down, so the wind couldn't catch and turn the blades while someone was on the outside.  (I just want to know how they tie and untie the cables!)

Mystic Eyes

We were getting hungry, and saw, just at the edge of Yakima, a sign with the Golden Arches logo.  Quick, no fuss, no muss, we'll just stop there.  So we turned, and drove.

And drove.

And DROVE. 

We found out, that just because there is a sign saying something is available, it, however, doesn't mean it's very close.  We never turned off, and after what seemed like 2/3 of the city had gone by, there was McD's.  We had a tiny lunch (Basically the child one, without fries, neither of us knew how much longer before we arrived somewhere with a bathroom again.)  I admired the place, commenting on the curtains (sage crushed velvet) and the fireplace.  Husband glanced around, and said something about McStarbucks.  I laughed, and two young girls looked up, that were sitting in overstuffed chairs. 

I wish I could ask children if I could take pictures without people thinking I was a roving pervert.  These girls had the most beautiful, liquid brown eyes I think I have ever seen, with lashes that supermodels would kill for.  And I think they weren't quite sure about us, or thought we were strange 'old' people, because they kept glancing over at us. 

(Ok, is one fuzzy bearded man, and one somewhat portly chick in tie-dye that unique, in an area where I saw no less that three people with Mohawks?) 

But the girls just had such beautiful eyes.  I hope they are bless with seeing the beauty that I saw, with them.

Then we headed for the venue...

(To be con't...)