Notre Dame

Wow.

Just... Wow. 

Happened to turn on the TV, randomly, yesterday.  I was slapped in the face with the image of billowing smoke and flame, on that amazing building.  I watched as the spire fell, and all the while, just had a rotten feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Is everyone out?  What about the people who work there?  Are the firefighters okay?

It turns out, no one was hurt, (last I heard, this morning), and they were able to save some items, paintings, relics... And they are talking of rebuilding.  Oddly enough, it was repair that might have caused the problem, but sadly, accidents do happen.  Doesn't make it any nicer, but there it is.

I keep having this image of the beautiful stained glass window, just yellow and orange.  But again, it will be replaced.  Macron is saying it will be rebuilt. 

I keep having this thought that it took something on the order of 2 centuries to be put up in the first place.  I have a sneaking thought it isn't going to be a weekend project now.  I am guessing they will have to check the stone, and whatever structures are left, to make sure it doesn't have any weakening from the fire BEFORE they even think of new structures... 

I am rather sure, however, that my oddball thought of giant blue tarps covering the roof will not happen.  Let's just say, I think the French would have ANOTHER revolution.  But, build they will.

But as sad as it is, there is still the people.  And with people, there is hope. 

Dieu te bénisse*, to all, let us all work to a stronger future. 



(God Bless You, Google's fault if it's wrong...)

Z is for Thus Spoke Zarathustra.

(Yes, I made it.  Late, and I am not sure how, but I did make it!!!)

College was an interesting time for me.  I have been told you "find" yourself in high school, learning who you are, and your "identity".  I still debate that, I am well out of high school, and am still changing and learning about myself.  That being said, I think that college was when I really started finding what I liked, disliked, and worked on my ideas and ideals.

I found that I could read modern poetry- and actually enjoy some of it.  I started reading Shakespeare in about 3rd grade, (Mom had to nearly whip the librarian to allow me to check it out), and I thought the modern stuff was just going to be fluffy "moon, June" writing, not deep.

I learned I was wrong...  And some of the writing was deep, glorious, thought provoking, and interesting.  Note:  I did say "some"...

I learned that I could stand up for my ideals.  I don't like to get political on my blog, but I supported a protest, and was able to rationally explain to someone why I was doing so.  In retrospect, I don't know that I would do that very same thing today, not that I wouldn't or don't believe the same way now. It just seems like people are more violent about their beliefs.  But I know I could, and can.

My music taste enlarged when I went to college.  I loved country, growing up with it.  But when I went to college, I was presented with many eclectic things, from Alternative to Zydeco, and frankly, found very little I didn't like!  I also first fell in love with Tom Petty's music* about this time, from buying a second hand cassette tape, and playing it on the way to school.  At the time, he had competition from everyone from the Andrews Sisters to Vivaldi.  Wait, never mind, he still does.  But, there is a lot more of his music that I have now!

I also learned humor is a great ice breaker.  We had a common room, and a television.  One of the soaps was on, and the sound turned down.  We then made our own dialogue.  This lead to some belly laughs, especially when someone changed the channel.  A woman had been talking to a man, and the new program had two men talking.  One of the guys sitting in the room piped up, bass voice, "Geez, honey, that plastic surgery really didn't go well, did it?"  I have no idea what people thought of our revised plot lines, but I had some great times with it.

I learned how to get into a frozen car, how to budget, cooking, negotiation with (most) neighbors, make friends, even if they don't speak my language, and the fact that if you inquire about the Austrailan Lottery from a friend, you get a lot of crap in your mailbox. And the title book is something that I made an effort to read, more than once, and really, really, wonder what the attraction is.

Oh, and I learned educational things, too.  But the other stuff was more fun...

* Ok, for my regular readers, you KNEW that I had to get Mr. Petty in there SOMEWHERE!  :)

******

We are having a levy coming up, and Mom and I were handing out flyers, Chinese menu style, hooking them to doorknobs in a community.  (Thanks again for the help, Mom.) 

It was one of those days, I had sort of slogged to awake, and then arriving at the store we were supposed to meet at, we couldn't find the person handing out the flyers.  Finally, found him, and took off.  Went to the street, I thought I was supposed to be on, when I realized my first gear was acting up, and I also wasn't finding the addresses marked I was supposed to put the flyers on.  

I called Husband, and asked if the first gear was a symptom of a problem of the master cylinder, which had been acting up.  His verbose answer, "Yep."  Oh, joy...  So, I wandered around the block a couple times trying to find the right place.  No addresses.  Aaaand the first is getting worse.  

I finally called, asking my Dad, who worked in the area, and we finally established that a) there was a gap between part of the road, one part in the east of town, the other in the west, and b) I needed to get home before I had real problems with the Jeep.  

My third call was to the boss, "I need to go home, and change vehicles, my master cylinder is almost out.  I will then come back in and take care of the flyers."  There was a long pause, and the laughing reply, "That's the best excuse I have heard, go home, be safe."  

Went home, using gears 2 through 5 (Blessing on low geared vehicles...), and parked it.  Picked up Mom and we went out to flyer the area.  Found the right place, and proceeded to do our thing.  

I felt strange.  I was not a regular in the area, but no one came out to see why I was walking around people's places, no one stopped me, or checked why that their doors were rattling, (I had to tie the flyer with a rubber band to the doorknob, and sometimes I made the door jostle slightly.)  It was almost eerie, but also worried me, no one was paying attention to someone walking randomly around vehicles, cars, etc.?  Mom said she had the same response, except for one place, where she said the dogs in the house most definitely noticed her, and were NOT appreciative.  

I asked my Dad, he'd worked doing phone repairs for years, and he nodded knowingly.  Yes, he said, people just don't seem to care.  He said he'd only been challenged to show an I.D. card or proof of what he was doing about three times in... 20+ years!  

Wow.  Just wow.   

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...

Triathalon.

Today I am out doing Amateur Radio help for a triathalon.  I have helped at this one for a few years, we read the tag numbers of the riders (Dad and I help on the biking leg of the triathalon), and I have watched the various people.  There are the Lance Armstrong wannabes, super carbon fiber sleek body hugging ultra fast go folks. 

There is the parents, puffing and blowing, with the kids, red faced but they won't slow down, they got THIS far. 

There is the ones that are obviously in zen mode, eyes happy, one pedal stroke at a time, they will get there when they get there. 

But there is one person that fasinates me. (I am writing this ahead, so I will let you know if she is there this year, later.)  She is not a thin gal.  If she was a runner, she'd be called a Clydesdale.  She has been in the race every year I have helped.  She is obviously working at it, and is usually near the last, even if she starts early.  But, every year, she smiles and waves as she goes by, and says, "I am making it! I am STILL GOING!"  (Usually says it on the way back, but with a much redder face and a bit of puffing.)  She isn't an athlete in the normal sense of the word.  She will probably never get first place.  But she always works at it, she always looks happy to try, and she always finishes, looking as pleased as if she'd won gold at the Olympics.  This attitude is contagious.

I want to be just like her!

I am STILL GOING!!