July 23, 2003

Outlook: Cloudy

...with a chance of meatballs.

Actually, my mood is much better now - the wife is doing temp work (although if anyone in Denver needs a solid IT manager, she's your woman!), my outplacement assistance starts next week, I'm finding some leads and jobs for which to apply, and I'm learning to appreciate just how little credit we give the women in our lives for raising children.

You see, right now, I'm Mr. Mom. This is hard work. Two dogs, two cats, and a two and a half month old do their best to find ways to keep me occupied, when I could be doing something useful like reading, watching television, or surfing the net. Ah well, I signed up for it I guess when I helped bring our little Fiona into the world.

As promised, a couple of the non-musical highlights from our adventures at the LoDo Music Festival (Blogcritics review is here for those of you that missed it).

First thrilling story - seeing the man in flowing robes, with flowing hair, and a hat that was made famous by a lanky, goofball trapped on an island after a three hour tour. Yes, indeed, it was Gilligan of Nazareth!

Second thrilling story - end of day one, we've loaded ourselves into the car for the drive home, when - while driving through downtown Denver - Matt gets pulled over for some nebulous moving violation. We're still not sure just what he did wrong.

So, Mr. Friendly Policeman asks him to step out of the car, makes him do a series of tests (he passes with flying colors - go to the head of the class!), and then, ever disappointed that Matt has defeated him, makes him take a breathilizer. Cha-ching! Point-oh-six, baby! Impaired? Possibly, were he a small child or an elderly gent. Legally intoxicated? Not on yer life, brother.

Mr. Friendly Policeman then gives Matt a ticket for said nebulous moving violation (the $86 or whatever wasn't very nebulous though), and instructs him to go park somewhere for half an hour or he'll be arrested. So we did. We drove a bit. And parked. Here.

I didn't say we drank anything, now did I?

Third thrilling story - on day two, after a rapid-fire Rhett Miller set, we retired to a nearby loading dock to rest a bit. The loading dock was next to the margarita tent. In the margarita tent was a young woman who shall remain namless to protect the innocent. Because she innocently gave us a couple of free margaritas. Membership, or something, has its privileges.

So, go - read the review - and then intersperse those exciting details among the paragraphs, and you'll feel just like you were there with us. And isn't that what all of you really, really want?