I feel like I saw The Beths open up for someone once, but seeing as how they’re from New Zealand, I’m probably wrong. Part of the reason I usually try to grab a picture or two from a show is so I can remember who was there, what the vibe was like, and for opening bands, it’s a way to jog my memory when I get home to check them out.
I’m also a huge Shazam fan. I definitely had another song by The Beths in my Shazam history so maybe that’s where I know them from. Either way, worth surfing through YouTube to see more.
I am really not sure what to do about the stress levels lately. It’s affecting everyone. More sleep? Exercise? Therapy? Drugs? We just had five days off for Thanksgiving and it didn’t even make a dent, in fact, it might have made things worse. There’s not enough time in the day, nor enough days in the week, to get everything done that needs to get done. My daughter tells me frequently that I am stressing her out. I am stressing her out because she is stressing me out! It’s a lose-lose situation that I don’t know how to fix.
Then there’s the general anxiety caused by having a narcissistic, pathological liar in the White House, out to enrich himself and his cronies at the expense of democracy. They are hell bent on the complete destruction of the economy, the environment, the educational system, the free press, diversity, truth, justice, and the American way. NBD. I drive around with my Mueller protest sign in the car because who knows when Mango Pol Pot might decide to have his unconstitutionally appointed AG fire the special counsel and we all hit the streets.
Tomorrow we find out if Mississippi can pull itself together and elect a black man instead of a woman who would gladly be in the front row at a public hanging. WTAF. 2018.
My mom came down to our house for Thanksgiving instead of us driving up there, for which I am very grateful since there’s snow on the ground up at her house. It’s below freezing here as well but at least you can stand inside and look out at bare ground with scattered leaves while you inhale the smells of all the food underway.
I am truly spoiled. Most of the time people who have guests over for Thanksgiving have to do all the cooking for the assembled masses. My guest is doing all the cooking! I did help, a little, and I made lunch earlier, but now I am just sitting here breathing deeply and eagerly.
It’s quiet, we don’t have broadcast TV so there’s no football game in the background, no parade, and with only five of us, no rowdy kids playing. A real departure from the Thanksgivings of my childhood where we always had a kids’ table, sometimes even two kids’ tables. That will be Christmas this year.
One of these days I’ll manage to see Car Seat Headrest but it’s hard when they tend to play small clubs in bigger cities or are part of a giant lineup at a festival or a place like Madison Square Garden. Not going to do it.
My daughter called me at work when she got home from school and said the house smelled like trash, strongly. I told her to check the potatoes in the pantry, look around (smell around) and open the windows. She checked, she looked, she smelled, opened the windows, but she couldn’t find the source. It is trash night so I thought maybe my husband had taken some stuff out of the fridge and put it in the trash before he left for work and then forgot to put it outside. There wasn’t much I could do about it while I was at my office though.
As soon as I walked in the house, I could smell it. It was bad and it got worse as you walked through the rooms. I couldn’t hang around though because I had to turn right back around and go pick up my daughter from her club meeting. I told my son to start looking around and walked out the door.
While I was driving, it occurred to me that there were some apples in one of those paper totes that were leftover from when I made some apple butter a couple of weeks ago. Once I got off the highway I texted my husband and told him to check the apples. One of them was bad and so he tossed it, but come on, they must all have been bad so I told him to trash them all.
I felt pretty good about having figured out the source of the trashy smell without even being in the house. When I got back home we started getting dinner underway. Even though I’m a vegetarian, my husband isn’t and every once in a while, he likes to make himself some fish. He was rummaging in the fridge, taking out the parsley he bought, the butter, lemon, but he couldn’t find the fish. We bought it this weekend and I remembered putting it in the grocery bag so I told him to move out of the way and let me look for it.
Guess where he found the fish? In the grocery bag. Still. It never made it into the fridge. Since Saturday evening it had been sitting there, just wrapped up in that brown paper they use at the butcher/fish counter but not refrigerated. Gross.
So was it the apples or the fish? A deadly combination of the two? May we never repeat the experience to find out. He went off to the store to get himself something else to eat and I opened the windows and burned some candles. I don’t notice the smell anymore so I hope that it clears out completely before my mother arrives for Thanksgiving.
Noisy Cats 