May 23, 2004

6:06 p.m.

Get Out the Map

Well, it was a good weekend, by golly. We'd picked up a Friday gig which balanced out the Sunday gig that got cancelled, so we still had a weekend's worth. These were two places we've played before, and both are very enjoyable. Friday was a monthly series held at a UU, and we drew respectably. It was one of those audiences that just gets us from the start, and they responded to everything and just about fell over themselves talking to us afterwards. Last night we were at a nice theatre in a big library, very near the colonial village of Williamsburg, VA. I grew up in Virginia, for five years anyway, and I've been to the village numerous times. If you want to go into the exhibits and get the real experience you have to pay the admission, but just to wander around the little roads and go into the shops (where you can part with your money in other ways besides buying a ticket) is always allowed.

So when we play the library I try to stop in at the Raleigh Tavern Bakery and get an embarrassing number of ginger cakes to take home and freeze. This time I also had another errand -- scattering some of mom's ashes in some nice, pastoral, lovely spot. After a little inquiry we learned there was a stream in the village, at the Blacksmith's shop. We found it easily and went behind the little building. There we discovered the sweetest grotto -- a wooden bridge arched briefly over the stream, which ran directly underneath the blacksmith's from front to back. Trees overhung everything like a bower, including a big old mulberry, and flowering bushes along the bank. The stream was clean and beautiful and singing. We agreed that this was the spot.

So I put mom's baggie of ashes on the bridge, and we faced upstream and sang one of her favorite funny songs, complete with three part harmony and choreography, just like we do it onstage. Then I sprinkled the fine gray ash into the water, and we turned downstream to watch as it dispersed and turned a milky white. Chris said, "Some of her is going to settle here!" and I responded, "Yes, and some is going out to meet herself in the ocean." We watched it for a couple more minutes while it cleared, talked to mom a bit, and then hugged each other.

It was only after all that that someone came by to cross the bridge, so I was glad we'd had privacy for the ritual. I didn't really want to have to explain.

Then we hied us to the bakery, where I said, "Hello, I'd like some ginger cakes." The fellow in the apron said, "Certainly! Here they are." To which I replied, "How many do you have?" "How many do you want?" he countered. "I'll take six dozen if you've got them."

Someone was dispatched to the back kitchen to retrieve my six baker's dozen, or 78 individual, ginger cakes. These babies are three and a half inches across and 1/2" to 3/4" thick. They were still soft from the oven.

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The Williamsburg gig was fun -- we all think we must be getting better with all this touring. Three years ago Chris could hardly sustain a note -- he'd just never sung very much, and didn't practice or anything. I told him I'm noticing a big change in his voice now, and he agreed. I love it when people find their voices. Because they do take some developing, and it's so exciting to see what happens when voices keep being used. Anyway we're feeling tighter all the time, and sometimes even I'm surprised by how good we sound.

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After a late night last night, Chris said he wanted to leave at 7am this morning, as we had a bitching drive home and he needed to get in some work on the DVD. I said either you'll hear me knock, or I'll still be sleeping, so maybe I'll see you in the morning. In the end I did get up, and we left not long after the appointed time -- though I did convince them to stop for breakfast sooner than later. When I'm on the road, I'm pretty much a getupandeat person, whereas Carol likes to drive a hundred miles or so before breakfast (ridiculous girl). I won and we went to IHOP and had lingonberry crepes, YESSS.

By lunch it was hot and, as you know if you've been paying attention to my moans for a while, I have no a/c in my car. (Stop it, stop it. I can hear you from here.) I was feeling rather heat-sick (as opposed to heartsick, which is what I'm usually feeling. If I can just keep taking a letter away each time, eventually I'll be fine) and suddenly couldn't eat at all. (No, I had not gorged on ginger cakes.) Chris got me a big cup of ice and put some in a baggie, and told me to put it on my neck and face as I drove. That helped a lot. (Wouldn't an ice tiara have done wonders just then?) So they got pizza, I got water, and on we went for several more hours.

South of Hartford I caught a weather report of huge thunderstorms with hail, and we were due to drive right into them. Sure enough, within half an hour we were in a mess worthy of Nebraska. No hail, though, and it was blissfully cool finally. We diverted at a traffic jam and I found a slightly different way back to 84, and there we parted ways. The last few miles were slow, visibility bad, flooding in places. By the time I pulled into my parking space, though, the rain had stopped altogether! Just in time for me to lug all my gear inside. Wasn't it nice of the thunder god to make me a priority?

So everyone's back in one piece now. It was a really nice weekend, very gratifying. The only puzzling thing today is that it's now been over three weeks since I spoke with Will, and he continues to not return any messages. It's just bizarre, folks.

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A note on cicadas: they're all down in Maryland and Virginia. I wondered why I hadn't seen any in my area, but I don't think they're as high profile up here. Anyway, I now know them intimately, from the inside out as it were, if my windshield is to be believed.