Might

Good concert, as per. A bit odder, more experimental segments than usual, even for them, or rather They. Strange set of songs. Possibly because the've brought out two albums in the last six months. I hoped they'd play Judy Is Your Vietnam, which they did on the first encore. No confetti cannon this time. I'd love to see them in a really tiny venue, say 50-100 people, unplugged, guitar and accordion, heavy on the slower songs. Ok, they can bring Dan Miller along.



Their audiences here are always enthusiastic and sing-along-y. Which seemed to take the opener, Jonathan Coulton, a bit by surprize. His own fans were present, vocal, and in good voice, as well. The rest of us picked up and sang along too. One of the best opening acts They Might Be Giants have brought along.



Perhaps a lot of loud music and bright moving lights was not precisely what I needed this week. Chewing ginger gum got me through. I wished I could have stood on the floor in front of the stage and danced along as I used to. Getting too old for this, mostly because of damage. That, and I usually go to bed when they started playing, no night owl me. Still, enjoyed myself.

From 64˚F in the afternoon, it was snowing madly when we came home. Then, the covered parking full last night, we had to take a spot on the street, and move the car by 8 am. Mostly fluffy, salty lake effect snow, not difficult to clean off. Instead of just going around the block to get into the parking, we fetched sausages from the supermarket, me in what I threw on to move the car, hair uncombed. We looked like we'd been up too late and threw on sweats, like everyone else in the aisles. A warm, welcome breakfast.

Air full of snow, cat watching impassively.