Today's tedious multi-hour drive features...

...driving through places like Erdmore. You can ask me where Erdmore is, but all you will get in return is a lengthy, immutable silence...

Somewhere in Michigan....

We performed in Saginaw this evening: a rowdy, rambunctious chock-full show at a big, beautiful old theater. But the charms of Saginaw itself escaped Jon and I, so we headed for the amusingly named Frankenmuth. Whose charms also escaped us.

We had hope, because Frankenmuth is famous --in an extraordinarily meager sort of way-- for the world's most renown Bavarian Chicken Feud. As the story goes, a German family with a complicated name that I can't be bothered to reproduce here developed a recipe for Bavarian Fried Chicken that garnered a following. Then the inevitable familial rift. Germans are very quarrelsome and cannot get along even with themselves, it seems. In a fit of pique, one limb of the family tree moved themselves across the street, created yet another over-sized Bavarian chicken palace and now the two factions glare at each across a 50 yard no-man's land, the air redolent with the baleful aroma of Bavarian chicken.

For let there be no mistake: Bavarian Fried Chicken is flat-out awful.  The breading is lumpen, morose, and bland....sort of like Germans themselves. The chicken seems to have been reverse-basted to remove all flavor, and the side dishes strained to compete for the epitome of starchy tastelessness; excepting the stuffing, which we suspected had been soaked in Bain de Soleil for some reason. We pushed things listlessly around on our plates for a while and dolefully regarded the authentically-garbed accordionist that wandered between the tables. Even his teenage shame and humiliation could not recompense us for this dreary repast.  Moral, I guess: don't eat German food. Erica was right. 

Also, I got a picture of Jon doing this:

My bed at the luxurious, jungly, Davenport...

...actually has a mirror for a headboard. So all night I kept seeing myself tossing and turning in my peripheral vision and scaring the crap out of myself. Off to Michigan!

It's a jungle in Spokane

At least it is in room 873 of the schmancy Davenport Towers hotel.

And so the busy season begins...

Off to Spokane, except -oops- Frontier Airlines computers don't work. An inauspicious beginning.

State College, PA

Did a show at Penn State University yesterday. Actually, did two.  Nice crowds. Tragically, the mini-SD card for my phone slipped out of its loose slot (does that make my phone a ho'?) and I have just discovered that the lack thereof renders many of my phone's functions inert.  The camera, for example.  So, until I get another one, I will once again have to use substitute pictures garnered randomly from the web.

Since I could not take a picture of the hole in the ground (and hopefully rusty protruding bolts) where Joe Paterno's statue used to be, I will have to settle for this visual representation of a child's experience of Penn State.

Every morning, if I don't oversleep

...the sun, low on the horizon, streams in my side window and paints a slowly-moving mural through the trees and onto my wall. It's a pretty great effect which this picture does no justice at all. Love you guys. Have a safe trip.

Prop Tart!

I don't know if you recall Robyn Scott, she was the best prop person we ever had, from back in my office days. She lives not too far off so we met in Northampton for lunch at the Miss Florence Diner. She has cute kids, one of whom took this picture.

You know, even in the daytime, I hate the stupid Delaware Memorial Bridge.

Driving up here, what is with this thing?  When I drive near/on this I start feeling like a Republican seeing a random black man walking toward them in a parking lot in broad daylight: I want to freak out, unlimber my concealed-carry and start blowing holes in things.  Well, maybe I don't feel EXACTLY like a Republican.  But I am pointlessly scared, extremely nervous, hate everyone around me who's not me for no real good reason, and am on the verge of taking stupid action of some kind --so on the other hand, maybe I do feel like a Republican. I think that bridge is evil.  And if it collapses while I am on it you must try and make a big deal about my hitherto-unevinced psychic abilities. Perhaps a posthumous award of some kind.  Or a movie along the lines of  "The Mothman Prophecies."

You can tell I'm back in Pittsfield....

Every other house looks like the Addam's family house. And yes, the locals are creepy and they're kooky, mysterious and spooky. And altogether ooky...

Did a one-day trip to the beach

We stayed at the Days Inn, but it was right across the street from here, which I swear we stayed at when I was -like- 7. Am I imagining this? Love y'all...

Earth, Venus, Jupiter, seen from Mars.

The title of this post alone is ridiculous. Man is amazing.

Being a small town threatened with the ever-looming spectre...

...of invasion from the north by those canadian bastards (or, a la français...les bastards canadien), even visiting guest-artists must take their turn defending the shores.

Clayton Opera House, Clayton, NY

Drove through Sleepy Hollow on the way to the show in Peeksville, NY

We saw the (tragically shadowed) "Headless Horseman About to Lay a Drive-By Pumpkining on Ichabod's Ass" statue they have there. Also the bridge where the whole fictional event occurred (?)

Drove through Sleepy Hollow on the way to the show in Peeksville, NY

We saw the (tragically shadowed) "Headless Horseman About to Lay a Drive-By Pumpkining on Ichabod's Ass" statue they have there. Also the bridge where the whole fictional event occurred (?)

LaGuardia < Sun Valley :(

Finally took that test

...while scoring pretty high, I was somewhat disappointed at all the words I missed.  Now I feel dumb.  :(

I'm Gonna Miss This When it's Gone

Mom n Dad n Kevin n Me

Rachel and Katie T.

This was a while back. They both are still pretty cute.

Adam's Gulch

Rachel and I in the middle of nowhere. Four mile hike.

So, on my walk, saw this one beautiful tree...

Is this a birch tree? It was alone and unique on the trail. The picture doesn't do it justice: the white were far whiter, and the darks seemed much darker. A tree of true contrasts. Stunning.  I almost got hit by a passing horse while taking this picture.  Horses have very little sympathy for photography in general, I've noticed.

Look who came to see the show!

Charlie Abel, from old-school Toby's days. He knows several of us from various and sundry shows. Still does ballet and gets the ladies. Love you guys.

Opening went well...

But I am pooped and Dad, thanks for the extra supply of these. I finally cracked into them tonight. Sore. I'm not meant to sing and/or clamber in low-oxygen situations.