••• Sunday, June 25, 2006

A Meeting With the Boss 

Note:This post was initiated on June 18, the day after I attended the concert in subsequent mention. It's old and stale news. However, I have found that if I spend some time writing a post and neglect to publish it, I get all brainstipated and am unable to post at all. So, consider this post a kind of an enema. Since we're on the topic, there's one more backed up post waiting in the queue, plopping your way soon.

That Boss. And he was completely off his rocker. In a good way.

I think I mentioned this a while back, that my husband and I had tickets to see Bruce in concert, on the We Shall Overcome: The Seeger Sessions) tour.

I'm no music critic, but I will say that if you have a chance to see this concert, go. And if you haven't yet bought the album; buy.

I've never been a huge Springsteen fan. I didn't hate him or anything, he just didn't float my boat. My first year at Michigan State (1977), I remember more than a few Bob Seger-Bruce Springsteen wars on my dorm floor, between the Detroiters and East Coast students. At the time, I was a little confused by all the ruckus, since I thought they were the same guy.

After June 17, I'm proud to say that Bruce is my new crush. Actually, considering my husband, we should call it a three-way. ::In the mood for good google.::

The night wasn't just about the music. There was also some great people watching, once I got over how old most of the concertgoers looked. I think I was expecting a younger crowd. You know, more my age. Then I realized that these old people are my age. Then I started drinking heavily, after which, we all looked pretty damn good.

On a positive note, if the fellow concert attendees were mostly my age, it's safe to assume that they couldn't see well enough to notice that my left eyebrow hasn't been tweezed in about a month. My good tweezers were left at the cottage, so I've been using my old ones, which are about 20 years old (the old-fashioned scissor style). For some reason they only work properly on the right side. I will admit that I'm getting pretty good at leading with the right side of my face, a la Nancy Grace.

Our seats were in row PP, which meant I was destined to visit the increasingly-concert-venue-esque-as-the-night-wore-on bathroom every 30 minutes, or so. I'm just glad we didn't sit in row PooPoo. ::There had to be a row PooPoo. That could be the only logical explanation for women working on their Night Moves, in a packed jon, with Bruce Springsteen cranking it just a few hundred feet away. Just sayin'.::

I have finally finished the knitting portion of the Crumpets. I decided to go with the Picot cast-off, as recommended by the designer. Unfortunately, I didn't really like the looks of it ::Note the Poky Uppy Thingies on the right, which bear close resemblance to a pack of jolly sea serpents, on meth.::

I swear, I followed the directions for this cast-off to a stitch. When the results from my first attempt ended up looking nothing like the picture in the book (Epstein's) I checked an online source. Same directions, same results.

It was at that point I determined that I had invented a new stitch and thusly named it Serpicot. But birthing a monster does not mean you have to love it.

Lawd, no.

So I searched further, for the picot cure, and ended up here, where I found directions for said picot cast-off, which ended up looking just like the picture in Epstein's book. ::It's the little nubby on the left, in the above picture. Bloggerhag won't let me upload a better shot at this time.::

Vacating Further
Is it just me, or is there a theme here? Anyway, yes I am on vacation. And yes, I have no vacation updates. My husband has been working, on vacation, and today it was raining, and basically, to date, we've moved our homelife to the cottage. i.e. Same shit, better view.

My next bloggstipation post will be a wrap-up of last week's festivities at Soccer Camp. Where there were lots of mommies. And fear. For my life. And theirs. For the next 13 years.

I'll just wrap with this Soccer Mom's Mother-of-a-Soccer-Camper's Moment of Summer Break Enlightenment: It takes some balls to kick some ASS.

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