(aka If I’m going to keep taking all these photos, I may as well post them.)
I don’t know if it’s my mood or the age of development along certain roads, but sometimes I hit a strip of fabulous signs that has me pulling off on the side of the road over and over. Today from Furman to I-185 …
Janie’s 50th birthday, and the B-52s’ Atlanta stop on their 35th anniversary tour
happened to coincide yesterday. Wait … this is Janie’s day, and we know that everything happens for a reason, and that this must be a sign.
A sign to have a blast. I was
lucky enough fated to be invited to join the Hightower-Vickers-Hendrix genepool for an outing to the Fabulous Fox in a Faincy Limousine for Fabulous Seats to see the Bs.
Janie put on big pink hair. At least 10 groups asked to have their photo taken with her. Wish we’d thought to charge them.
It’s been probably a decade since I’ve seen the Bs. Their shows got so recorded and boring there for a while. In 1997 (I know because I had to take the breast pump with me), Kyle and I saw them in Athens at the Colliseum, and then at some point there was a show at Lakewood with Jimmy and Janie. Walking out of that show in 1997, Kyle and I said, “We’ll probably be like 50 and still going to see the B-52s.” Let’s make that 60 now, OK?
This one was all the fun, and mostly from the first two albums. They opened with Wig and then played Mesopotamia (!), Private Idaho and Lava. Dance This Mess Around, 52 Girls, Love Shack, Roam. Only one song, I think, from that awful last album. Encore was Planet Claire and Rock Lobster.
It has been many years since I’ve been as ecstatic as I was last night during Planet Claire. Today, my old-lady feet hurt.
Fred was bored and Keith is pointless. Kate is a Goddess, absolutely beautiful and a perfect stage presence.
But I think the person having the most fun of the evening was Cindy Wilson. She just seemed so happy to be there making that music and being adored by what was a very adoring crowd.
It’s finally, really, almost finished. Fire yesterday, water today. As of tonight, I can cook over an open flame, put stuff down the disposal, and use the dishwasher. No more Teflon-coated electric wok, no more washing dishes in the shower, right?
So I stopped at the store on the way home from a very long day at work to get beer so I could have my favorite supper: beer and popcorn. But not only could I not find any popcorn, I couldn’t find the popcorn popper either. Good thing there were two episodes of Glee on the DVR to console me.
All that’s left is screwing in the pulls, finding some damn undercounter lights, and punch list things. Oh, yeah, and finding a table to fit the completely bizarre space for it.
There are mistakes, that’s for sure. But I really can’t believe how wonderful it is. The blue is perfect, and the main excuse for the whole thing — no counter space — is really, truly, much improved. Seems like there’s a place to put something down everywhere I turn.
One day I will put all these kitchen pics in order — but here you can enjoy the time-lapsed progress of just one day.
All of a sudden the cul-de-sac was full of trucks again. Counters, appliances and electric. Most of what’s left is hooking things up and fixing mistakes.
Light — morning v night, flash v no flash, lights on v off — makes a huge, wonderful difference.