On Conquering

Remember when I said I had visitors coming?

They came (sts), they're here and we're conquering The Emerald.

And I've done my best to keep my social media to a minimum lately to preserve the delicate feelings of our Missing Comrade: Max E. Hinton.

But trust me, not only am I documenting their visit but I'm also planning a little surprise for the Blessed Absent One. Quite unbeknownst to him, Max actually did come to Seattle...in 2-D form.

Here's a peek at the Flat Max Project. Creep the final product later this week.

Maxamilian taking me to work on Friday

eternal fair - the sunset & the comet

Ever gone to a movie by yourself? First time feels weird - like everyone is staring, wondering what the creeper with a kid's snack pack is doing alone on opening night of "Tangled". Take that feeling and magnify it by a million if you ever plan on going to a Seattle show alone. Amidst a sea of flannel-clad, heavily spectacled, chain smoking hipsters in tapered denim, the lone show-goer sticks out like a sore thumb. Enter: ME at the Eternal Fair show at Ballard's Sunset Tavern July 22nd. I was really hoping either A) Eternal Fair would go on first or B) the opening bands would be super quick so I could beat it out of there. Was the music that bad? No. But the dude sitting next to me at the bar was creeptastic. Picture with me a 40 year old man drinking cheaper booze than I was spending the entire time critiquing art and showing me 30+ pictures of crotch rockets on his Droid. THIRTY. Luckily, I'm a master of acting a dutiful listener yet hearing absolutely nothing. Did I mention this guy had a full-blown Kentucky Waterfall? You just don't see those outside of incestuous mining towns anymore these days, much less the Seattle bar scene.

I digress...

Alone. Eternal Fair Show. My saving grace of the night was some solid music with the faithful not at the Capitol Hill Block Party. Opening act "Boxcar Rebellion" left a lot to be desired that night. Their set lacked cohesion and I just wasn't digging the "mid-life crisis" vibe they were putting off. Aside from a couple decent face-melting guitar solos by lead singer Kathy Moore, all I really saw was a band of old people trying a little too hard. There you go - that was the first negative thing I've ever said in a music review! Had to happen at some point, right? Moving on...thank God Eternal Fair was on their game. Second up to bat, they undeniably brought the heat and got people on their feet at Sunset. Everyone from dirty hippies to soccer moms were shakin what their momma gave them on the floor. Like I mentioned before, lead singer Andrew Vait channels Emile Hirsch better than Emile Hirsch does and after the most excessive mic check I've ever witnessed, Andrew, Brent Rusinow and Daniel Nash hit the stage and I had an instant smile on my face. Long forgotten was my oddball bar neighbor as some MGMT-esque strains hit my ears. I kept mentally noting how incredible of a musican Andrew is - he never fails to disappoint, this time flawlessly switching between the guitar and keys. Though each song had it's own unique identity, the entire set was bound together by Vait's Muse-like vocals, Rusinow's fuzzy bass and some solid beats on Nash's part. After a show like that, I almost forgot about headliner M. Bison, who wrapped up the show with a set eerily reminscent of Animal Collective. I listened to a few of their songs but was soon overwhelmed by a slew of Spokane visitors, Fireball whiskey and the urge to get far, far away from stanky hippies in motion.

courtesy of Eternal Fair

Hands down, Eternal Fair is coming into their own and getting better every damn time. Lucky for Seattleites, your latest opportunity to let them cast a spell on you is this Friday at Capitol Hill's Comet Tavern (9 pm, $7 cover) with American Girls and Portland's own, John Craig + The Weekend. Just don't go alone...you may end up peeping rare mullets and pictures of motorcycles.

Krazy Dayz

Typically, going home to Dallas, Oregon never ceases to provide insta-fodder for NW is Best. Better yet, if I'm lucky enough to make it home for the annual Krazy Dayz/Summerfest weekend, shit goes DOWNNNNN. Someone asked me the point of this annual summer celebration and I literally couldn't answer. It's basically just a chance for every Dallasite to let their freak flag fly for a whole 48 hours. And fly they did - Saturday's parade was a flurry of exposed bellies, Shriner's, mini ponies, the France School of Dance, baby holding and shielding my face from old classmates on Main Street. Before I launch into the weekend glory, I've got to give big ups to my darling BFF and grandma extraordinaire, Matie AKA Mater Bates, Girlfriend, Poopy Grandma, etc. That's MATIE - rhymes with KT and also, when paired with "Arrrrghhhh!", is a typical pirate greeting. She is a total doll and has faithfully worked at the Main Street hardware/gift shop since Lady Gaga was in diapers, saving me a front row seat each year for the illustrious freak parade. I hope my forthcoming account doesn't make me sound high-and-mighty...trust me, I used to cruise in this thang EVERY year. One year I was dressed as Dorothy with Rem as the Tin Man, both wearing rainbow wigs and clown face paint while our BFF's rode bikes pulling their cats in a fake circus cage. Another year I was strapped to the back of my dad's SEPTIC TRUCK throwing tootsie rolls...oh my GAWD. And yet another year I fell off of a church float and almost got ran over. Twice. GOOD TIMES PEOPLE.



A brief history lesson here - "Summer Fest" is known to Dallas' Original Gangsters as Krazy Dayz. Not sure what ole' dummy ever thought to change it's awesome name. Maybe it has something to do with this guy (at right) who goes by the ubiquitous alias' of Wind Walker, Leaning Larry, Laid Back Lenny, etc. Pretty sure this dude's real name is John Something-Or-Other. He went to high school with Robb Barnes and apparently sizzled his brain with tasty drugs. He now can be seen all over Dallas with his trademark walk - tilted backwards at ~ 45 degrees. To keep things stylish, Wind Walker usually carries his backpack on his chest as well and as been seen numerous times picking up cigarette butts from the sidewalk and saving them for later. Tastyyyyyyy. So maybe the name change has to do with Krazy Dayz offending our local color, I can't really be sure. Maybe worth writing to the Chamber of Commerce about now that I think of it...

Saturday, I woke bright and early, around 9.30, all abuzz with excitement about the day's festivities - parade, bike riding and backyard tanning. As I was throwing on my parade uniform of mismatched tops and cut-offs, my wondering eyes beheld a voicemail notification. Enter Drew Hundley and Patrick Mount - two very hilarious, very single Air Force helicopter pilots. Fun fact: Drew's vocal twin is none other than Kenny Powers. These perfect strangers stayed with me for 4 days last weekend and are now in the Inner Circle of Friendship. They also left me the longest, most ludicrous voicemail I've ever received early Saturday morning. Not only did I listen to it 6-9 times, but also transcribed it for your reading pleasure. Blanks mean I really couldn't make out their slurred speech but feel free to insert whatever you wish...

"Listen, here's the deal. You, me, a ___ in ___'s mouth, a Flemish peasant woman, whips, chains, whistles, yo-yos and a pack of everlasting gobstoppers and some 100 mph tape, golf tees, chicken con carne, and some 5 lb bags of ice - obviously 3 because any more would not make any sense....But anyway this is Drew and Pat and we were just calling to say 'hello' and we're very upset. Obviously you're in uh, Losertown, Oregon at this juncture and we are drunk. We almost got arrested tonight because of one of our friends, so that's neither here nor there so we were calling to say we heart you but we're also calling to say you are the heart of our team and we miss you and we're gonna miss you forever. So call us tomorrow and leave us a drunk voicemail. And we will miss you forever and always or as the Chinese say, "Ching chow Wang Chong doo we". Okay welp talk to you later"

Try to tell me that's not dumbest yet funniest thing you've ever read. Just try. That really set the positive tone for my day as I headed out the door with my adorbs mother who complained that our parking spot, a whopping 3 blocks away from the parade route was, "so far away". Approaching Main Street, my heart was pitter-pattering. This is the town I love more than anywhere else. This is where I'm a legend in my own mind and Krazy Dayz is the one time a year where everyone can be a celeb. On the way to the market to pick up cheese and Chex Mix mom goes, "Why do people wear weird things in their hair at things like this?! Have people lost all sense of dignity??" Well, this is Dallas so yes mom, they have. Next I popped over to the Antique Mall to hobnob with my gorgeous ex-babysitter, Micah. And by ex-babysitter I literally mean she was my babysitter growing up. She dated the ticket-taker from the movie theater once upon a time and taught me how to swim. Now she lives near me in Seattle and I babysit her cherubs - we've come full circle folks. As I was holding Baby #1 of the weekend, I had a delightful exchange with a crusty old lady on oxygen who i was standing near and slightly blocking her northern vision of the route.

Lady: I can't see a THING (as the parade is still half a mile away...)
Me: Um...you know, you could just ask me to move. That would be WAY more polite.
Lady: Well, are you gonna move or what?
Me: Don't you worry (muttered expletive under breath

Didn't let ole' Thundercloud McGee ruin my morning though. I dashed off to the front lines with the parentals just in time to watch the Chamber of Commerce Director ride by dressed like a mermaid on a pirate ship. Hey, I never claimed Krazy Dayz was classy. Unfortunately this was the first year I can remember that the Color Guard didn't start off the parade - big no-no in my book and the Itemizer Observer can expect a Letter to the Editor from me shortly. What followed was no less than 20 church floats sporting slogans like, "God's grace under the sea" (what does that even mean?) with 15+ youth stuffed on there singing 90's praise and worship songs, the France School of Dance doing the exact same parade dance they've done for 20+ years, an entirely green pony who walked by to murmurs of "animal cruelty" and "who would do that?", a miniscule group of Shriner's sans the paraplegic doll with a crutch usually propped on one of their rooftops, and about 100 mini ponies pooping all over the place. It was really hard to narrow down my top 3 crazy sightings but it seems to have come down to these winners:

And with that, my beautiful parade was over. From there we grabbed lunch, held some more beautiful babies (Dallas is definitely riding a baby boom of late) and it was homeward for some backyard tanning - the kind where you don't want your dad to come out in the yard, if you know what I mean. Naturally the ONE TIME I do this is the ONE WEEKEND they're giving helicopter tours over our farm. Sweeeeeeeeet. The helo started out flying over the far edge of our property and then steadily progressed to directly over my yard. Coincidence? I think not. You're welcome people of Dallas with $30 to spare and an eye for the divine. That evening the dogs and I played, harassed the chickens and mom and I resurrected our biker gang Hellz Angelzzzzz and thugged it up around town on 2 wheels. We ultimately ended up crashing my uncle's 30 year reunion at the bar. I could have sat there and people watched all day but I was slightly underdressed and the promise of s'mores at home was calling my name. Around the firepit we tried to roast flat s'more mallows (dumbest invention ever) with sticks that were WAY too short. Luckily Robb Barnes is a MacGyver of sorts and duct taped a roaster to a long stick and we were good to go. That's until I got called "disrespectful" for trying to shove a dirty marshmallow down my germophobic mother's throat and the party prompty ended. Somebody needs to learn how to have a good time...

friday funny

an open letter to my childhood friends

thursday is the best day of the week. the impending weekend is gleaming in the not-too-far distance and i hear crazy shit at work on the reg like, "i mean, if they want, we'll wax their ass". i also have an uncanny ability to find ridiculous timesucks online that i can't help but camp out on between the hours of 7 and 4.

speaking of timesucks, i was thinking fondly of my hometown this morning while reading the freshest edition of our local twaddle, the itemizer observer. known to many as the "item-squeezer", it's a great opportunity for polk county residents to air their grievances (please read the last letter...PLEASE) and let people know they procreated, died, or plan to wed (click to see my high school crush...le sigh). i love where i grew up. i particularly enjoy reminiscing with people in safeway saying yes, i did go to oakdale heights and yes, i do remember getting suspended in 5th grade for smoking behind the tires on the playground. dallasites have memories like steel traps. everyone forgets the cool stuff like my 13th birthday party in 2000 being Y2KT themed or the fact that i regularly freestyled on the girl's soccer bus under multiple pseudonyms.

most friends from home lament the fact that my memory is unparalleled. i can't help it that my mind can remember, with startling clarity, what addison dreizus did for the 4th grade talent show or why my older brother flipped off jackie cornell for the first time. while i'm riding this wave of hometown nostalgia, i thought i'd write an open letter to friends from home thanking them for allowing my thursday to become a hot mess of random hometown memories.


dear stephanie brady,

i love you. thanks for making 5th grade the best year ever. thanks for rocking airwalks, shorts and an oversized polar bear/coca cola sweatshirt on your first day (a week late due to your appendectomy). for inventing the perfect lunch of bologna with mustard, sunny D and a twinkie. thanks for your rad birthday party that one year i had a huge crush on manny romero. thanks for all the soccer nicknames and making practice a constant mockery of coach vorderstrasse with me. thanks for gettting drunk with me in new york last year and always reminding me that some friends (you) really will be friends for life.


dear jason braun,

for some reason, i remember WAY too much about you. and for that, i am sorry. thank you for your unquenchable love of dinosaurs. for covering for me so i could kiss nick mcbride behind the dugout at the kids inc. fields. for having a dad that was willing to keep every single sports statistic of yours in his palm pilot. thank you in advance for becoming a ridiculously famous baseball star that will put dallas on the map for something, anything. just remember me when you get to the top...


dear hannah thompson,

i miss you. thanks for those awesome mints from indiana and making sunday sermons at EBC bearable. thank you for that ballin' birthday party in the 90's where we squirted paint on spinning paper discs and all the slumber parties. on that note, thank you for being the only friend to come to my 5th birthday screening of beauty and the beast in theaters. for always protecting me back in the goal as my fearless defender. thanks especially for having a hot brother with hot friends (heyyyyy zach). for teaching me how to play duck hunt (gun against the TV screen is the way to go girllll). oh and thanks for having the coolest dog ever - may muggsy rest in sweet, sweet peace.


dear macey blaine (now crow),

please stop appearing in my dreams 2-3 times a month. it's weird. thanks for opening all my presents at my 6th birthday party and make it seem like my idea. for telling me i was singing through my nose in choir class. for breaking your arm in 4th grade gymnastics class so i could finally shine out there. thanks for scaring the crap out of me at lacey's house when you staged a murder scene in her bathroom complete with a hair dryer cord wrapped around your neck. thank you for making all my athletic achievements look paltry and for assisting in a fair share of my high school antics - like making a fishing pole out of string, a rule and pen to drop down mcgowan's a-crack in chemistry. come home soon.


dear nick newbill,

wherever you are, thanks for getting caught looking at porn in the 6th grade. LOVED seeing your punishment of dad shaving off one of your eyebrows the next 6 weeks at school.


dear matt hamilton,

thanks for being the WORST PROM DATE EVER. for making me share an $18 entree with you, for nearly giving me whiplash in your new car, for temporarily abandoning me in a shari's parking lot off of lancaster and expecting a kiss at the end of the night. SUCKER.


dear alyssa cudmore,

my first friend. thank you for having the coolest house EVER. for the best night in history of prank calling from your grandma's apartment. for trampoline sleepovers that scared the shizzzzz out of us and especially for being one of the few dallasites that i truly believe will change the world. really takes a burden off my shoulders...


now that you're all enraptured with my quaint hometown and the characters in it, feel free to pay a visit with me. i go home at least once a month and i can promise a night at the drive-in, fresh eggs from the farm and a slammin night at north dallas bar and grill.

tkj, ko & yrm @ cct

so. many. initials.

and if you don't know what they stand for, you clearly aren't a rapacious seattle indie music glutton. friday night i not only had my first experience with fireball cinnamon whiskey (so much more to come on that later) but also with the columbia city theater and tony kevin jr. you could kind of say it was like a first date for junior and i - one where he sang sweet nothings into my ear and i stood there tucked in the back row with my mouth hanging open in unabashed awe. disregard the fact that everything i do is unabashed. listening to TKJr. is like hearing an old friend again - his voice will take you back to every golden and devastating spot in your life. he opened his mouth and all of a sudden i was couples skating with justin keller to boyz II men and getting my heart broken by my first love all at the same time. tony did this all while channeling "lonely" better than charlie brown's christmas tree.in just one song TKJr. can take you from the mountaintop to the valley and back again. maybe this has something to do with the fact that his father (tony kevin senior) is battling cancer and he sings every song for his dad (be still my heart). the only crushing disappointment of his set was that i arrived halfway through it. shame on me.

if tony kevin jr. were a musical mathematical equation, methinks he would be something like this:

[ivan & alyosha] + [eddie vedder] + a dash of [damien rice] = tony kevin jr.

*feel free to disagree with me (see below)

TKJr. is that dapper fellow on the far right

now that tony had reduced me to a nostalgic heap, i looked to kris orlowski and friends to lift my spirits back to an appropriate friday night, whiskey guzzling level. and he did not disappoint. kris opened with a flawless a cappella rendition of paul simon's "the boxer" alongside motopony's daniel blue and seattle's flaxen-haired stevie wonder, allen stone. no, they unfortunately didn't ditch clothing like in the video below but you get the picture.

perhaps the COOLEST shit i have ever seen

and flawless seemed to describe the rest of kris' set, with each song rising to meet my every expectation of damn good music. i've got to give major ups to the band as well (scott shrock on bass, ivan gundersen on drums, torry anderson on keys/vocals and mark izakson on guitar) who were the best i've seen in a long time. kris was later joined on "your move" by a bevy of local talent including daniel and allen, tony kevin jr. and zach fleury from hot bodies in motion. my note from that song only says, "AWESOME" and that's exactly what it was. i made a move to get close enough for a high-quality iPhone 3G picture (drip goes the sarcasm) and in my frenzied attempt at amateur photography, dumped half of my delicious cinnamon whiskey down my dress. on the plus-side, i maintained enough composure to get the A+ pic below and caught most of the fireball in my hair, making me smell like a cinnamon gummy bear for the rest of the night. forget the fact that the left side of my hair was crusted stiff...i smelled like candy!

fun fact of the night: kris tried to defy all odds and began his set with his hair parted on the wrong side of his head. over the course of the night, it naturally migrated back to its safe place on the left. i'm an observer of people. i notice these things.

quote of the night: (from drunk heidi in line for the bathroom) "maybe YOU need sex but I had sex YESTERDAY. I HAD SEX YESTERDAYYYYY!"

(OKAY HEIDI. you don't have to rub it in my face like that)

i would continue this review with my thoughts on youth rescue mission but they've turned out to be a bit disappointing for me. the first time i encountered YRM (at a hot bodies show), i was too busy avoiding a run-in with an overly zealous ex to pay any attention to them. dodging a college flame while double-fisting rolling rocks is not easy people. friday night, they were not my cup of tea. just not my style and some poorly executed four part harmonies let me call it a night a little earlier than expected. BUT, i'm a fan of second and third chances so maybe next time they'll wow this blogger.

** be sure to keep your eyes peeled in the coming days for a video from our friends at all cameras on who had audience members record kris' song "jessi".

the squirrel

as i was busy frolicking around the emerald city with my sweet marmee this weekend, robb barnes was busy doing man things in central oregon. why do i call my dad robb barnes? because he is a wild west legend - half man, half tall tale. he's like all the best parts of paul bunyan, davy crockett (the man, not the lady dog), pecos bill, johnny appleseed and john henry. robb barnes is a guy you want in your corner. and also apparently in your cabin when you discover a squirrel infestation.

this is the basic gist of my phone conversation with robb barnes last night. some details are a bit wonky but the general idea is intact - my dad killed a squirrel with a 2 x 4, string and 150 lb. rock.

dad was helping our family friend add a wall to their cabin in central oregon. at some point in the weekend it was discovered that a critter had munched all the vent coverings. later on, the culprit could be heard rummaging around in the roof and was soon spotted near the eaves by its rooftop entrance.

my first question at this point was, "where was your gun?" at any given time, robb barnes could be packing 2-5 firearms/weapons on his person (boot, fanny pack, shoulder holster, belt, etc.) this would place him squarely in the dwight schrute category of weird - minus the nunchucks, bowstaff and beet affinity. unfortunately the only .22 on the premises had no ammo. i can imagine robb barnes' frustration but also his elation at having to mcgyver a solution to the squirrel problem.

now...where were we? yes, squirrel. spotted. robb barnes takes a 3 foot long 2 x 4 and rams it into the squirrel, temporarily rendering him stunned and barely conscious yet unreachable in the eaves. thinking quickly on his feet, robb barnes then creates a lasso out of twine and LASSOES THE SQUIRREL. i kid you not.

my second questions, "so, you now have a squirrel on a string?" robb barnes: YES

why a string you ask? according to robb barnes, "because sometimes critters have diseases so i didn't want to touch him" um, try ALL THE TIME robb. now his trusty sidekick david digs a tiny pit in the ground and robb flings the NOT YET DEAD squirrel in and rolls a "150 pound lava rock" over it's shallow, earthen grave.

i can't emphasize enough that this is a TRUE STORY. after hearing this tale, i'm suprised i still had speech capabilities. before this story, i would have told people i was a small town country girl. now i'm forced to freely admit that i also seem to hail from hick territory as well where "our shirts are white, our jeans are blue and our necks are RED"

allen stone w. eternal fair

last friday night at the crocodile, i was that girl. you know, front row, sweaty, screaming and whipping out my iPhone every 6-9 seconds to type a longggggg ass note reviewing the allen stone show with openers eternal fair and special guests alessandra rose, kris orlowski, and ben carson of hot bodies in motion. blew my muthaeffin mind people. in case you were lame enough not to show, here's the rundown.

the sold-out show kicked off with emile hirsch's long lost cosmic twin, andrew vait and his band, eternal fair. i nearly shed a tear when he said they didn't have any albums available yet BUT that didn't dampen the golden set these indie rockers flawlessly executed. though definitely harnessing his own sound, andrew had the innate ability to conjure phil collins, kings of leon's caleb followill and panic! at the disco's brendan urie all at once. other times, he just let his fingers do the talking with some face-melting guitar solos (although i was strongly tempted to let MY fingers do the talking in his gorgeous mop of hair...le sigh). all in all, a rousing set by a group hitting their musical stride. do yourself a favor and see them next friday, july 22nd at ballard's own sunset tavern.

now, where do i even begin with allen stone? he's a black voice trapped in a white body. stevie wonder's gestures and head sway with john mayer's facial expressions. he's got a ridiculously soul-filled sound that would make the likes of elvis and jackie wilson roll in their graves. he's that damn good. he opened with some crowd pleasing folk covers further enhanced by the bevy of friends including some of seattle's finest up-and-comers. when he finally did launch into his own arsenal of songs there wasn't a bystander in the house. hundreds of literal hot bodies in motion were funking the shizzzzz outta the place as allen brought the house down. big ups to the two wasted girls to my right who shoved and spilled beer on me roughly 23 times. you weren't annoying at all. allen ended up performing (with a costume change and ever-present prospector's hat) for just over two glorious hours and i couldn't wipe the grin off my face. he's a master at what he does - born to perform and croon to the masses. for an encore, allen KILLED ITTTTTT with his fan favorite, "last to speak". video of that and my favorite song "figure it out" below.

with alessandra rose and ben carson from HBIM

with alessandra rose, kris orlowski, and andrew vait of eternal fair

the fourth

puh-raise the Lord for friends who take pity on you and let you bandwagon their 4th of july festivities. enter: aaron jones - who invited myself and other pretty people to his aunt and uncle's gorgeous home on mercer island. his lovely family not only let me parade around in a freedom-kini but allowed my little black child to frolic around the property and even managed to convince me that the girl cousin with two black eyes was actually a gold medal cage fighter. unaccustomed to being openly lied to by someone i just met, i fell for it hook line and sinker. only after repeating the story to my freshly-met soul sister, noelle, did i realize how ludicrous it sounded and realize the error of my ways. i digress.

it was the perfect day - open water, red/white/blue in abundance, good friends, nitrogen-riddled meat in a bun and my dog sporting a sexy american kerchief. i got to satiate my need for speed on a jet ski with kramer, aaron and andria. big ups to kramer for teaching me how to sail over yacht wakes and making my legs feel like tonya harding just took a pipe to them. now, two days later, i'm still walking like the tin man. L-7 weenie right hurr. all in all, it was my 2nd best weekend of the year (i honestly do keep track of these things) and i was the happiest i've been in a long time. like, shit-eating-grin-plastered-on-my-face happy. like constantly screaming in kramer's ear while jet skiing, "I'M SO HAPPY RIGHT NOWWWWW!!!" happy. life just doesn't get much better than this...

trusty steeds

my cute friends at the dockside fireworks show

sunset on lake washington

candidate for my future home

most favorite thing in the world: fireworksssss

davy bean sleeping through the fireworks with uncle kramer

completely unrelated to my fourth of july, but hysterical nonetheless...dad put mom to work on america's birthday mowing fields. thank God the man learned how to send picture messages because he sends me the occasional show stopper that just kills me.

independence

getting more than a little excited about one of my most favorite holidays. can you tell?

brought to you by the loverly andria lindquist

all other images via weheartit

edna j.

so i took a trip home to OR this weekend and visited this little raisin, edna j. drydale.

vintage braves cap courtesy of spencer barnes' minors team

spencer's closet - dallas, OR - circa 1997

she's my 92 year-old great grandma and is totally outrageous. i took davy crockett to pay her first visit to GG and edna was enamored with my little ball of sweet black lovin'. the best thing about grandma is hearing what comes out of her mouth. since her days are exclusively filled with eating and TV (primarily COPS, major league baseball and the occasional episode of matlock), reality gets strangely garbled for her and she ends up regurgitating outlandish tales that paint her and my great grandpa as american folklore. lucky for y'all, i committed these tall tales to memory for your viewing pleasure.

GG: how's your job overseas going?
KT: oh, i live in seattle now. my job's fine.
GG: no, you work overseas...
KT: uh, no, rem does. he's flying airplanes overseas. he gives people gas. his wife is in spokane flying helicopters.
GG: rem got married?!
KT: uh, yeah grandma. last year. you have a picture of it right there. see? that's rem and that's ashly?
GG: that's REM?!!?
KT: ha, yes. yes, it is. they live in spokane.
GG: oh so you bought a house?
KT: no, rem and ashly bought a house. in spokane.
GG: ohhhhh yeah. it's right next door to our house in spokane.
KT: come again?
GG: yeah, we have a house right next door. with six foot fences so the dogs can't jump out.
KT: niiiiiice. that's gotta be super convenient for you.

grandma LOVES reminiscing about colorado. her and great-grandpa used to live there as kids and adults. my grandpa even literally got stuck in the kissing camels at garden of the gods and the fire department had to come get him down. that one actually is true. the following tale is 69% false.

GG: you know your grandpa laid curb in colorado. all of colorado springs.
KT: really...
GG: he was the best cement finisher in all of oregon (ah, i see we've jumped states here)
KT: doesn't surprise me
GG: and he built the air force academy.
KT: by himself?
GG: pretty much. and he built fort kit carson.
KT: wowwwwww. that's awesome. so he pretty much built all of colorado springs.
GG: yep. best cement finisher in all of oregon

and have i mentioned she's addicted to MLB?

KT: what are you watching?
GG: the world series (in actuality it was a recap of baseball in the 70s)
KT: who's playing?
GG: my boys!
KT: ahhhh, who's your boys?
GG: oh i can't remember right now. america.
J: isn't america always in the world series?
KT: (just go with it)
GG: america and japan. we're killing them.
KT: oh reallllllly.
GG: oh yeah, i love the dodgers. (she has zero affiliation with the dodgers)

i wish i would have taken pictures of her wall decor. someone (cough*grandmamatie*cough) has cut out kitschy pictures from her boston terrier calendars and pasted them on HUGE pieces of posterboard. they now masquerade as "tasteful wall hangings". great grandma swears those are her champion bulldogs - and she's kind of right. my family has raised bostons for 4 generations and she did have at least one champion, sampson.

GG: those are my champions
KT: i see that. which ones are those?
GG: oh, you know, that girl.
KT: you mean chica?
GG: no...
KT: sampson?
GG: i don't know. that girl.
KT: i remember chica & stubby. wasn't chica mom's dog and you took her when rem was born?
GG: that was your grandma matie's dog. i took her because i had a big backyard. 6 foot fences.
KT: ohhhhh yeah...in spokane. next to rem and ashly.
GG: exactly.

i promise you she's not crazy, just hysterical to listen to. i used to try and correct her stories but it's wayyyyyyyyy more fun to just roll with them. when she used to live in her own house and watch COPS on heavy rotation, she'd swear up and down that the dallas PD visited her neighbors on the reg, arresting them and getting them "facedown on a tarp with their hands cuffed behind their back". literally directly seen on COPS. it's a shame too, her poor neighbors were actually really nice people too.

i can't only hope to be this badass in 68 years.

i kept marveling at how still davy was sitting and how she kept looking directly at the camera.

come to find out edna had an iron clasp on davy's windpipe for the better part of a minute.

picture this

by some mysterious form of magic, my iPhone refuses to die. although it persists in constantly jumping out of my hand and landing on the hardest surfaces imaginable, dropping every single call at least 4 times, and being super ugly, the thing still takes a decent picture, tweets and texts like a fiend - keeping me relatively happy. here are snippets of my past week in pictures. i've been spending inordinate amounts of time at discovery park beach (my most favorite place in seattle) with the puppy getting some good think time in. even managed to hit up the fremont naked, ahem, solstice festival this weekend (no pictures...you'll thank me) and inhale some buca di beppo this weekend with new friends, home friends and texas friends.

paris

showing some pre-weekend love for all two of you who read this thing on fridays. it cut my heart deeply to have missed my new obsession at wakarusa last weekend (post on that coming next week) because, quite frankly, grace potter and the nocturnals have stolen my heart. and in all honesty, i'm jealous of her. her badass-ness. her raspy, rocker voice. her LEGS FOR DAYS. oh and her bangs are awesome. i tried fake bangs last night and in the wise words of andria, "uh...you look like a total hippie" - and not the good kind. it probably didn't help that my hair is on a 5 day, no wash binge and looks strikingly similar to a lion's mane.

i have to give solid ups to one, forrest j. underwood, for bringing grace into my life. i'm pretty sure he a) wishes grace's name were actually paris and b) truly means it when he sings, "i wish i were in paris" along with the ear snack below. PLEASE, if you do anything good for yourself this weekend or in your life in general, put GP on heavy, heavy rotation. your body, mind and spirit will thank you for it. she's currently making the rounds @ america's greatest music festivals but has a bangin' tour schedule going on right now as well.

if you're interested in hearing more of grace & the nocturnals you can do one or both of the following:

1. email me at kbarnes@spu.edu and i will dropbox you the entire album or,

2. turn on your favorite local country station and hear her sultry croon cover the multitude of sin's kenny chesney's voice creates on their duet, "you and tequila"

happy friday fellow music lovers. happy friday.

p.s. the aforementioned forrest j. underwood just happens to be an extremely eligible bachelor who also happens to bring the party wherever he goes and happens to be a C-130 pilot for the air force...interested?

week in pictures

it's rebecca black's FAVORITE DAY OF THE WEEK! and to be honest, it's almost mine - thursdays just can't be beat in my book. anywho, i'll keep this short and sweet with a few pics of my week. seattle finally got the memo that it's almost summer and my sweet alabaster face saw the sun on repeat. YOU have yourself a great weekend! hopefully i'll see you tonight @ the hot bodies in motion show. oh, and make sure to think happy, happy thoughts for my dear friend erica saarloos and her groom, nate elmenhurst, who are tying the knot tomorrow in los olivos, california. wedding bells be ringing for TGS!

davy crockett has made her first kill, much like the original DC who killed him a "bar" when he was only three. in other news, my photoshopping skills are coming right along.

persistence pays - if you bug your receptionist long enough you WILL get tickets to the company's diamond club private suite fo' free. that's how it's done, son.

the aforementioned sun had me running to the rooftop of my building with davy in tow.

drinks, good company and a really good book just sweetened the pot

the fruits of our (me + davy girl) 4 hour sunday morning stroll around magnolia.

homegirl had the time of her young life chasing every crow alive.

cold, hard proof that the sun did indeed shine on ma face

end of an era

hands down, my favorite people on earth are my family. the barnes clan has it all - rugged good looks, brawn, brain, adorable dogs and humility. strong silent type? look no further than my dad. brainiac? rem, ashly and mom. perpetual servant? grandma matie. adorable, 4' 9" raisin with a sharp tongue? great grandma. and the crown jewel of the clan - our resident leaf blowing in the breeze of life (with perfect bone structure to boot) - spencer. my main squeeze just quit his job, bought a Lezbaru and has pulled chocks to go conquer the wilds of Colorado as a river rafting guide. i realize this sounds like the plot of another van wilder installment but such is the life of my baby brother. college graduation, shitty seattle weather, a dead-end job and one heaping dose of wanderlust combined to create the perfect storm for spence's emerald city exit. he left today with all his worldly belongings and a huge smile on his face.

i'm genuinely excited for him but also horribly sad at the same time. spence and i were thick as thieves in high school and after suffering through a whole year without him freshman year, i managed to connive him into going to the same college as me and living three floors above me. booyah. brave little soul even shacked up with me and my four gorgeous ladies for a summer in our magnolia estrogen pit. suffice it to say we are close. reallllllly close. moving to texas was so awesome for me but also was the longest i've gone without seeing spence and the furthest i've ever been from him. upon my return to seattle, i posted up in my boss' basement for 2+ months until spencer and i could move into our postage stamp condo together. though i cringed at the smell of his man cave, the lack of mennonite cleaning skills and being forced to watch reruns of "las vegas" every day on our lunch hour (oh yeah, did i mention we worked for the same company?) - i already miss him SO MUCH. eesh. he's been gone for 6 hours and i've cried three times already. woe. is. me.

all this to say - i'm super bummed. it breaks my heart to think that now the three barnes children have officially gone their separate ways and spence and i will never live together again. but this isn't about me. i hope that colorado is to spencer what texas was to me - eye opening and life changing. even more...i hope i can convince him to chuck deuces to seattle for good and move with me somewhere new. i just can't imagine this being the end of our era! we've got a lot of living yet to do and there's no one else i'd rather do mine with. so, if you're holding a glass, raise it to spencer the river rat and send him some love as he starts a new chapter.

oh, and i have this shiny new guest room (that smells so fresh and so clean, clean). so come visit me! seriously. i'll feed you, i'll let you play with my adorable smush-faced pup and i'll play tour guide to perfection. see you soon?

now, enjoy a surplus of kt & spencer pictures. i HIGHLY recommend you scroll all the way down. there may be a blast from the 1998 past where i look like a man child in my loony toons shirt, breakaway pants and adidas sandals. yeah, the kind NBA playas wear. NBD.