As I promised, here are my favorite pictures from this past year, in no particular order.

The landscape between Utah and Idaho is vast, and seems quintessentially American somehow.

This picture was taken outside the studio when we were mixing Andrea’s CD.  There had been a freak snowstorm overnight, and we all woke up to this beautiful scene. Amazingly, the snow was all gone by the afternoon.  We finished mixing the songs, and then I drove back to Portland and went on a great first date.  That was a good day.

Andrea had just read and been inspired by the book Blue Like Jazz, and she wanted to take a little hike around the campus of the college here in town in which the book is set. Though it has changed in the decades since the book was written, this was and still is a beautiful place to hike and explore.

This is one of my favorite locations to take pictures.  It’s an abandoned cannery town along the Columbia river. Sorry about the small size.

When Breanna and Justin and I were on tour in Reno, Justin was getting his CD mixed in Portland, and the guy would send Justin mixes via e-mail, for him either to approve or to request some small changes. After our show, he and Bre were listening to the final mixes, so I left and walked around for an hour, and took about a million pictures of the city at night.  Came back and listened for a while, and when they went to bed, our host and I stayed up talking for another hour and a half afterwards. That was my favorite day (and night) of the tour.

ViolinistKarlee, me, Breanna and Justin on our tour, after our show in Redding.  This picture just puts a smile on my face every time I see it.  Karlee is such a lil thug.

This is my car, all loaded up with instruments to go to the studio and record my parts for Andrea’s CD.  I’m always amazed at just how much stuff this car can carry, despite its diminutive size.

ChefDave, in an instantly classic pose.  I love the way the light is gleaming off the knife.  Incidentally, you owe to it yourself to eat at the Sego Lily Cafe in Bountiful, Utah, by the way, next time you’re there.  Dave’s food is phenomenal.

There are lots of abandoned military bunkers outside Port Townsend, Washington, and I could easily spend a weekend just taking pictures of them. I love the way the light interacts and contrasts from room to room.

Ah, beautiful Astoria, Oregon, seen from the highest point in town.  That’s another place that provides an almost endless supply of photographic opportunities.

This picture I didn’t take, but it’s such a classic that it warranted inclusion on the best pictures of the year.  It’s the Cinemagic theater here in Portland, when they were in transition from the movie Hancock to the Dark Knight, and this was the sign change, in progress.

I love looking back over the year in this way. Even though this was a particularly difficult, painful, and challenging year, there were certainly plenty of good times too.

Here’s to a better 2009, though.

It’s been quite a year, I have to say.  Going through and choosing entries was particularly difficult this time around.  I always enjoy looking backwards.  So much has happened this year that it had become a bit of a blur, quite frankly, and it was fun to revisit some of those experiences.  Others, however, weren’t nearly as much fun.  I could have made this entry about twice as long as it is.  There will be another separate entry for the ‘best pictures of 2008′ coming soon.

accordions, Decemberists, and EmeraldCity – This involves a night when I made a noticeable transition from fan to equal participant.

shock – This was one of the worst days of my entire life.

good news and truth – This was the end of said time.

Yakima trip, part one – This was quite possibly the worst Yakima trip ever, in which I lost a friend.

Tinkle – Tinkle is the name of a fictitious product; this entry describes a hilarious parody my friends and I made of sports drink commercials from the early 90′s.

on tour, day 3 – This was one of the best and most memorable days of my entire life.

my dinner with Andre – We read the screenplay in the play-reading group, and there are also some ruminations about why this movie meant so much to me.

‘six-six-five and one fucking half’ – This is a rock ‘n’ roll story from way back in the day.

errrr. . .hi, mom – I have to be honest; I really like this particular entry.

O, the hilarity ensues – ‘Good luck driving around with my dead, pregnant wife!’

please ban more books – The school district in the town in which I grew up turns out to be responsible for upholding a ban on a very famous book.  Glad I left that town.

litany – This was a hilarious repartee my friend and I shared.

Thank you for reading, and thank you for your support throughout this last year.  In case this somehow wasn’t enough for you, here’s the entry for the best entries of 2007.

Have a great new year!

OneYearAgo

Wow, it seems like every time I go a day or two between entries, and I’m planning what to write about next, I always have a super-weird dream that fills in the gaps nicely.

Last night’s dream I don’t remember linearly enough to tell it all, but what I do remember needs to be captured, so here you go.

I’m on tour with a band, and we’ve just played a show in Denver, on our way to Salt Lake City.  We each drove separately, for some reason, and I’m out in SLC, looking for a place to eat dinner.  I park at a restaurant, walk inside, and see a glass of DewFromMountains on the table, and to me that means only one thing:  Ozzy Osbourne must be here, somewhere.

Sure enough, he walks around the corner just then, and I introduce myself.  “Hi, I’m Todd.  I’m a guitarist. . .YOUR guitarist!. . .(pause). . .Kidding!  Zakk Wylde is totally your guy.”

“Zakk doesn’t play with me anymore.  I found a new kid who’s fourteen years old, and he’s amazing.”

We end up hanging out, eating dinner together, and then he sort of comes along with me while I check into my hotel room and everything.  I start to unpack my clothes and guitars and amps and stuff, and I call one of my bandmates.  “Hey.  You’ll never guess who I’m hanging out with right now. . .Ozzy!  Osbourne!. . .I know, it’s crazy.  Hey, what time’s our show tonight?”

“It’s already over.  You missed it.”

“Get OUTTA here.  It is not.  Over.  It’s only 5:30; what kind of show is over by 5:30?”

“This one.  So we’re packing our stuff up right now.”

“That’s so lame!  Well, sorry about that.  I guess you guys can just split the money between you, and leave me out of the pay for this one.”  I hang up and tell Ozzy that I missed the show.  I tell him that my mom lives here in Salt Lake City (which she doesn’t, really) and that we can go eat and do laundry at her place.  The dream changes, and we’re at my mom’s place.  No one else is home, and I start to pile up my dirty laundry.  Her tiny little kitten (which she doesn’t really have) starts to run through the room and claw at our clothes and guitars.  I tell Ozzy, “We need to keep that kitten out of here.  He sprays, and he’ll destroy all our stuff.”  I grab the kitten and put him next to the back door.

I walk back into the other room, and find a T-shirt that one of my bandmates has made, for us only, to commemorate the tour.  It’s white, with a bunch of colored boxes with comic-style writing that tells inside jokes and rhymes.

“B_ _ _ _ _ fails!”

“7 + 5/2 – (the ‘square root of’)12 = Rawk!”

“And B_ _ _ _ _ is not a dork!”

I start to tell Ozzy that I can’t remember where I left my rental car, and that I’m worried about how I’m going to meet up with the rest of the band.  He laughs and tells me that I’m welcome to crash at his hotel room if I need to.  “Thanks,” I say, “but that won’t really solve the problem.”

That’s all I remember.  You can tell this was a dream because I was actually looking around for a place to eat while I was in Salt Lake City, whereas if I was awake I’d be heading to the Sego Lily Cafe over in Bountiful, which is my favorite cafe ever.

I need to start taking drugs, so that I can have an excuse for all these weird dreams.

OneYearAgo

June 29th was homecoming day. We slept at Breanna’s uncle and aunt’s house in Meridian, Idaho, but we had arrived so late the night before that everyone was either already in bed or pretty much comatose in front of the television. The morning was when we actually got to socialize.

Say hello to Breanna’s nephew and two nieces.

Kids kinda freak me out, especially when they’re either little, or if there are lots of ‘em. Doesn’t matter how cute they are (and these kids are VERY cute), they still make me feel really anxious and weird. So I kinda kept to myself for a while, reading and then coming back in and out, or talking with Breanna’s uncle and aunt. Their house was great; it’s a shame we didn’t get any pictures of that too. Her uncle cooked Swedish pancakes and bacon and sliced some cantaloupe for breakfast, which was all completely amazing. They were very open and generous people, and I hope our paths cross again.

The drive back was beautiful and remote. Idaho and Eastern Oregon are sort of interchangeable in my mind. Every once in a while we’d pass a lovely ravine. . .

. . .or mountain (I THINK that’s Mount Hood). . .

. . .but for the most part, it looks like this.

The landscape went from greenish yellow to brownish yellow, and we went from the high desert down into the rolling hills. There are actually signs stating things like ‘now entering the Pacific Time Zone’ and ‘now crossing the 45th Parallel.’ We stopped to eat in Pendleton, at a great little 1950′s restaurant called the Main Street Diner. The way we found out about the diner was priceless. We stopped in at a convenience store to buy some water, and I asked the young guy behind the counter, “Is there a good cafe here in town?” The guy’s response was, “Uhhhh. . .for food?” Justin turned away and tried not to laugh.

After our lunch, ‘we continued on’ (Lewis and Clark’s phrase), and the temperature climbed and climbed all through eastern Oregon. I tried to take a picture of the thermometer when it read 108 degrees, but my camera’s battery was completely dead by then, so I wasn’t able to. By the time we thought to try with Breanna’s camera, the temperature had fallen to a mere 105.

The windows of the van were unpleasantly hot to the touch. We would roll them down if we wanted to take a a picture, but other than that, we kept the air conditioner turned on full blast that day. We passed what appeared to be a tree farm, in which all of the trees looked exactly the same, and were planted the exact same distance from each other, and were in plots of land that were perfectly square. On each side of those plots was normal Oregon desert. It was like, yellow desert/LUSH FOREST/yellow desert/LUSH FOREST/yellow desert. How’s that for a verbal visual aid?

Interesting.

Finally we got to the Columbia River, which is when we really started to feel like we were close to home. If you’ve ever lived in or spent much time in Portland or northern Oregon, then you know that the Columbia is the lifeline for this part of the world, and there’s something comforting about looking over and seeing that huge river beside you after you’ve been away from it for a while.

The last couple of hours we spent listening to Kathleen Edwards. If you haven’t heard her music before, you owe it to yourself. I now completely associate her music with road trips, because the first time I heard her was on last year’s trip to Nevada. Her songwriting is strong and catchy, and brutally honest. She’s really one to watch for. And her music is perfect for long, open roads.

True to form, it also started to get cloudy as we got nearer to the city, and by the time we pulled up to Breanna’s place, there was thunder and lightning, and big, threatening raindrops.

We took some end-of-the-trip pictures. . .

. . .and then I packed my stuff from the van into my own car and raced home before the rain really started. I just barely made it, too.

A trip is never really over until the rental car has been returned. This van served us so well, and was the perfect road trip vehicle. It was flawless, and quiet, and comfortable in all the heat, and it even got good gas mileage, even though it was pretty crammed full of people and their stuff.

Parting thoughts about the trip:

1) Justin and Breanna are amazing, and sweet, and talented, and genuine, and I’m very proud to call them my friends.

2) I can’t wait to hit the road again. This country has some breathtaking landscapes.

3) I want a better camera, dang it.

4) I need to work on my gangsta pouts and poses.

So that’s it. Trip’s over. Hope you enjoyed reading about it. We now return you to your regularly-scheduled witty and insightful blog, already in progress. . .

OneYearAgo

June 28th was a very eventful day. We got up incredibly early in the morning, checked out of the hotel, and hit the road. We had to get from Cedar City, Utah to Nampa, Idaho by 7:00, and it’s easily an eight- or nine-hour drive.

Since our travel route took us through Salt Lake City, I was excited at the prospect of seeing my friend of over twenty years, David Bible. We left a bit later than we planned, so for a while it looked like we wouldn’t have time to stop in and see him. I called him to break the bad news, and he called back a few minutes later with an offer we couldn’t refuse; if we stopped in at his restaurant, he’d have some food waiting for us.

We were very excited at this prospect, naturally, and I set the cruise control a bit faster to make up as much time as possible.

Remember how beautiful I said that Utah was? Well, Salt Lake City was certainly no exception. In fact, even in June, there was no shortage of snow-capped hills along the way.

We made really good time, and since it was Saturday, we didn’t have any traffic to deal with in SLC. We had plenty of time to stop in and see David, and I can’t even begin to express how glad I am that we were able to do that. Suffice it to say that not only was it amazing to see Dave again (it had been about three years), but I also got a new favorite café in the process. That restaurant is the Sego Lily Café in Bountiful, Utah.

Dave is the chef there, and the mastermind behind the majority of the creative and amazing cuisine, which I’ll discuss in a moment. For now, though, it’s time for a few pictures. Dave gave us a tour of the entire place, but we spent most of our time in the kitchen, talking and watching him work his magic.

I wish I could say that those fries lasted longer than they did, but I have to confess that after one bite, I knocked the precariously-balanced plate onto the floor, destroying the plate and rendering the precious fries inedible. Luckily, Dave had given us a box of them to take with us on the road, but even if he hadn’t, that one bite would have been all I needed in order to pronounce them the best fries I’ve ever had in my whole life. And the dipping sauce. . .oh my gawd. Forget ketchup, mayonnaise, or any lame combination of the two. Once you’ve had red pepper aioli to dip your fries into, there’s no going back. When Dave told me that on the phone, I said, “You didn’t just say ‘red pepper aioli’, did you, because if you did, I just got really excited.”

We stayed there for about twenty minutes (not NEARLY enough time), and then we had to get back on our way. Dave sent three different sandwiches with us, along with an amazing salad and a box of those incredible fries and aioli. We passed around halves of the sandwiches, each time proclaiming our current bite ‘the best.’ I talked with Dave today to get the full story on the sandwiches, and here’s what they were:

- grilled chicken panini, with pesto, provolone cheese, and tomatoes

- tarragon chicken salad, with onions, cashews, and a bunch of special ingredients

And then there was my personal favorite, which was Dave’s special, hand-made creation:

- merguez sausage (lamb and roasted red peppers), in a subtle and spicy red harisa (in Dave’s words, ‘a classic Tunisian condiment’) sauce, with cucumbers and onions. Absolutely unbelievable sandwich.

RIGHT NOW, I’D LIKE TO TAKE THE OPPORTUNITY TO TELL YOU THAT IF YOU LIVE ANYWHERE NEAR SALT LAKE CITY, DO YOURSELF A FAVOR AND EAT AT THE SEGO LILY CAFE.

SERIOUSLY. GO.

AND BRING ALL OF YOUR FRIENDS.

Thank you. Okay, so on with the trip. The landscape was consistently beautiful, but Salt Lake City gradually got more and more industrial (and less attractive) the further we got from the city itself. In a very uncharacteristic outburst, I raised two all-encompassing middle fingers to the city of Ogden, in which my blog stalker lives. From then on, the trip settled back into good conversation, and the landscape changed gradually from rocky cliffs to rolling, green hills covered with sagebrush, to amazing open spaces and skies.

Finally, we arrived at the site of the tour’s final show, the Flying M Coffee Garage in Nampa, Idaho. We unloaded our instruments, had some coffee, and took some pictures.

Justin took some pictures of Breanna, but neither of them realized that I was upstairs taking pictures of them at the same time.

Breanna has some family members who live in Idaho, and they were in attendance at this show. Breanna talked them into taking a few pictures of us. Here are the best ones.

This was our best show of the tour. We were excited, but relaxed, and although we were tired from the trip, I think we tried extra hard to make the show special, because it was the final one of the tour. For some reason the cello sounded particularly excellent. Every once in a while, I feel like I have a particularly good night, and this was definitely one of them.

After our two-hour show was over, we packed up our instruments and then stuck around drinking coffee, eating snacks, shopping for little gifts (the Flying M has an abundant supply of cool little gifts) and, of course, taking pictures.

Finally, at eleven o’clock at night, we packed up and drove back up the highway to Breanna’s uncle’s house in Meridian, where we completely crashed almost immediately upon our arrival. It was quite a day, but that means that now there’s only one more day left. . .ON TOUR.

OneYearAgo