Loving

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Hello from a couple of nerdy introverts celebrating thirty-four years since our first date! We took full advantage of Superbowlers watching football, went out on the town in the mid-afternoon to little traffic and even fewer people in restaurants. Our view was nice and the food unremarkable, but it was so fun to ponder how this length of time is both magical and quite unreal. We occupy the same bodies, yet we are not the same people! In more ways than I can count, I thank goodness for this. How much more measured, mature, insightful, and strong we have become. How much more in love, in friendship, in goofiness, and laughter. Here’s to thirty-four more, which is not actually impossible (we’d be 87).

I baked a cake to celebrate and lit that candle for our own good favor!

The icing on the cake of our day was a literal float – note Greg’s look of surprise at his buoyancy! We spent an hour in what is probably most akin to a blissful day on the Dead Sea, minus any fear of sunburn, silently bobbing away our worries, aches, and pains. It was weird, as the volume of salt makes it feel a little slimy, and fun because you absolutely do NOT sink. I highly recommend it.

I haven’t done a playlist in long while, and one late evening while listening to music (of course), Greg and I got to go-go-going on our favorite artists and bands, and here we are. A relatively small Musical Throne of favorites from a pretty vast library. Alice in Chains to Willie Nelson. The best of the bestie best.

Click the song title to hear it! I hope you enjoy, and maybe even discover something new for yourself.

Alice in Chains: Our car stereo storage system is not so bueno and sometimes resets in the middle of a song. Until our recent purchase of Santana’s Abraxis, Alice in Chains was always the default starting point, and in particular, the song Again, which was never really a bad thing. Jerry’s guitar!

Head Creeps :: I Stay Away :: All Secrets Known

Andrew Bird: Once, in conversation with our most fabulous friend and financial advisor of twenty-four years (!!), we mentioned Andrew Bird. A bit shocked, he said, “That weirdo who whistles all the time?” The very one, Sean.

Fake Palindromes :: Plasticities :: Rising Water

The Black Angels: Back in the days when I was on Facebook, this Colorado born and Oregon living gal stumbled upon an “I Miss Texas” thread, and this band was the most compelling reason on the list.

Doves :: Young Men Dead :: Melanie’s Melody

Chris Cornell: The voice. The Voice. The Voice. Also, the spirit.

Birth Ritual :: Can’t Change Me :: Cochise

Dolly Parton: America’s Angel on Earth. Sings like one, too.

My Blue Ridge Mountain Boy :: I am Thinking Tonight of my Blue Eyes :: A Few Old Memories

The Doors: This band, if I had to wager, is imprinted on my DNA. Thank you, Daddy.

Queen of the Highway :: Take it As it Comes :: Strange Days

The Eagles: One of the most prominent bands of my childhood that I could never, ever quit.

I Can’t Tell You Why :: Peaceful Easy Feeling :: After the Thrill is Gone

Ella Fitzgerald: Simply the best. I love you, Ella.

They Can’t Take that Away From Me :: Misty :: Blue Skies

Fontaines D.C.: This band is one of the myriad I’ve discovered on independent radio. Thank goodness for it!

Televised Mind :: Jackie Down the Line :: Starburster

Frank Sinatra: With many thanks to my parents and grandparents for this one. The voice ain’t half bad, either.

One for My Baby (and One More for the Road) :: It Happened in Monterrey :: The Last Dance

Iron Maiden: Wholly on Greg’s favorite list, but late one evening on Channel 12 (fellow Gen X of the Denver metro, you know), Run to the Hills was the first video this junior high girl without MTV ever saw. I still like it.

The Prisoner :: Run to the Hills :: Seventh Son of a Seventh Son

Jerry Cantrell: The Riff Lord is a polymath, y’all!

I Cut You In :: Psychotic Break :: Atone

Joy Division: I have no words for how much this band meant to me as a teen.

Transmission :: Autosuggestion :: Atmosphere

Led Zeppelin: The name really does say it all.

The Song Remains the Same :: What is and What Never Should Be :: That’s the Way

Mark Lanegan:: King of the understated stage presence.

Gospel Plow :: Song for the Dead :: Love Will Tear Us Apart (Joy Division!!!)

Metallica: Greg, Greg, Greg! The first band he saw live and in person, and at Red Rocks. Pretty sweet.

Ride the Lightning :: For Whom the Bell Tolls :: Orion

Peter Gabriel: Another of my angsty teen finds that meant ever so much.

The Feeling Begins :: Humdrum :: That Voice Again

Pink Floyd: Peerless.

Us and Them :: Echoes :: Comfortably Numb

Ronnie James Dio: Greg, again, but I have no real objections, besides his name alone.

Man on the Silver Mountain :: I :: Rainbow in the Dark

Radiohead: They have such a diversity of sound, yet it always sound like R A D I O H E A D. Also, the only road trip we’ve taken to see a show – Portland to Seattle 2012.

Bulletproof…I wish I was… :: Subterranean Homesick Alien :: Separator

The Rolling Stones: Another band of childhood that I could not imagine my life without.

She’s a Rainbow :: Gimme Shelter :: Can’t You Hear Me Knocking?

Tommy Guerrero: Perfect for a sunny afternoon, well, any afternoon really. Plus, the skating!!

Directions of Possibilty :: Water in Your Hands :: Headin’ West

Van Halen: At a party once, chatting with my pal Eric, Van Halen came on the hi-fi, and, as you do if you’re a fan, know it from the first note. I squealed, “Van Halen!” and maybe did a little fist pump, and he’s like, “How did you know?” “We’re Gen X man, how did you not?”

Dance the Night Away :: Runnin’ with the Devil :: And the Cradle Will Rock

Willie Nelson: An American treasure, full stop.

Last Thing I Needed First Thing in the Morning :: Whiskey River :: Mama’s Don’t Let Your Babies Grow up to be Cowboys (p.s. – I love the Electric Horseman!)

Hey!

Hey! It’s the handsome hubster! He and I were assembling a box spring for a new mattress in the guest room, which is not super large, hence the trail of cardboard.

I’ve started sleeping here most nights, but before you fret about it, know that we don’t AT ALL. It became necessary, as we both want decent rest on the regular, and it just wasn’t happening. Last year, we learned Greg has sleep apnea, generally stopping breathing about 200 times a night, which he was pretty devil may care about while it scared the shit out of me. I mean, seriously, 200 times a night!

He got a C-PAP machine, and it was pretty great, at least initially, because I wasn’t waking up with his crazy loud snores (even with earplugs), and he was consistently breathing. But then, his mask was causing his teeth to hurt, which is super common, so he switched to a small one that fit strictly over his nose. Great for him, but if he opened his mouth, even a little, it was this loud mini-hurricane blasting and waking me up, and I needed the earplugs again. After a while, it became clear this was unsustainable, because my ears were getting more and more irritated after years of nightly usage, and we really didn’t want his teeth to hurt.

So, I tried a night in the guest room and woke up ridiculously refreshed, despite the bed not being as firm as our ours. The deal was sealed, and we replaced the mattress. Save the nights when my hormones aren’t interrupting, my sleep is very, very good. His, too. As a sweet compromise for that old time feeling, we sleep together on the weekend. Hooray!

Sometimes we feel sad about it because, you know, we’ve been together for 33 years and kind of like each other and cuddling and our ritual chatting and hand-holding while drifting off to sleep routine. There is great consolation in Greg being my personal alarm, coming down for a morning cuddle before we start our collective day. It’s pretty perfect, all things considered.

Us, in summer, it is early morning, on a weekday after exercise and a dog walk. Weekends, upon waking, Greg a little sleepy-eyed and Juniper on the hunt for movement, my voice, and a coffee cup delicately placed on the ground for her to lick. The fountain is creek-like, the garden alive with bees and birds and a host of fliers. Our little sanctuary of green and calm. I love it!

And now, as the Monty Python boys would say, for something completely different. Last Thursday, we trekked up to Fiddlers Green for a little bit of ROCK. Not sure I have ever mentioned this here – Greg and I are rather big fans of Alice in Chains, and their amazing lyricist and Riff Lord guitarist Jerry Cantrell is out promoting his latest album, I Want Blood, with the slightly creepy cover just above. He’s also touring with Bush, whose 90s album Sixteen Stone is pretty spectacular, and two other bands we scarcely heard of.

Cue a hot-hot to trot day on the Front Range and a delightfully high energy crowd. Everyone brought it! Highlights: The drummer from Tim Montana clad solely in his underpants. The large number of fine folk that knew every word to every Candlebox song. Jerry belting solo tunes, like his latest, Vilified; Alice in Chains greatest hits, including Would?, my absolute favorite of theirs, to which I sang my heart out and cried, maybe just a little bit, too. But, but , but, that wasn’t all! Bush was also quite stellar, and Gavin Rossdale especially philosophical AND electric. The final photo has Jerry jamming with them to Comedown, which was really, quite a perfect end. Oh, happy day!

Unless the weather is wretched with cold or wind, we walk Juniper, and stroll the high path, with the best views of Pike’s Peak. Nature’s balm and wonder, we never never ever tire of the majestic beauty. These are a weekday’s walk worth at nearly the same time. I love how the sky changes!

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