Today we implemented a new poilicy where each member must do a pushup for every minute they aren’t at the van after departure time.  Then we decided on a one-day grace period, a time to adjust, because we were so pathetically late getting out of town.  Fortunately we got new live cds and posters in the process.  I bet casual readers missed the fact that I just switched colors of ink.  You must keep a discerning eye on this ol’ boy, cause I’m crazy like that: like a three-legged fox.  So if anyone can tell me where, and what color I switched from, and to, I will mail them my devotion and the now defunct strings of my first tennis racket.  Now, it was cold in McCall, and hinting at snow in New Meadows, and already sticking to the hills outside Lewiston.  We arrived at John’s Alley, setup, and met up with papa Dave C., fresh off adventures in Seattle, CDA, and airports inbetween.  The venue’s lighting rig is once again fully functional and I got to fade, change, build, paint, and spot my way to satisfaction, while the boys played like kids in a sandbox trained in labryinthian architecture to a surprising Thursday crowd full of free dancers, clappers, swayers, singers.  Afterward there was a party in a bagel shop, Will ordered a sandwich named “The Moustache Ride” fittingly, then we retired to Martha’s downtown apartment for beautiful vocal harmonies and acoustic jams.

Quote of the Day:  “Where thre’s a Will there isn’t a way.”

                                                –Hawk on Will’s momentary pessimism

by Jesse Shell