my poor liver

we went to scotland.

yeah.

for me, the best part about touring, anywhere really, is eating and drinking what is locally produced in that region. i always seek out restaurants that locally source their cuisine, and generally the food comes with a locally sourced libation, too. as dan is reading every informational sign and sloooooowwwly strolling through every room in any museum, i am flipping through my various guidebooks or asking a stranger about the best place to eat nearby. i would much rather see the Colosseum from a cafe terrace than a three hour tour.

as i look back on my life on the whole, i feel like i owe an apology to my poor liver. not only my general freewheeling lifestyle, but the added burden of excessive travel can't be good for me.

dear liver, i'm sorry for the whisky in scotland, the lager in turkey, the hefeweizen in germany, the wine in france, the sangria in spain, the schnapps in switzerland, the pilsner in prague, the vodka in poland, the baijiu in china, the lambic in belgium, the ale in england, the "coffee" in amsterdam (hmmm...sorry lungs, on that one), the ouzo in greece, the lemoncello in italy, the margaritas in vegas, the guinness in dublin, and 1998-present.

but don't worry, MOM. all things in moderation.

especially moderation.

my favorite commercial on the telly

wait for the Yorkshire horses.



the british version of woodsy the owl -- give a hoot, people.

poor weston

where did they come up with some of these village names? this could get awkward for people named lizard.

striking a chord

when i was 17 jessie played me a CD that her brother sent from college. we put it on the stereo, turned it all the way up, and listened to it all night long. i know that i'm just one of a zillion Dave Matthews Band fans, and i'm not even a warehouse-card-carrying, t-shirt-wearing, live-recording-collecting, DMB True Believer. i just love the music.

DMB is one of those bands whose music can get inside my bones. the opening notes of satellite (for some reason) can make me emotional, and it's not even a sad song. ants marching makes me want to dance. the entire crash CD makes me crave sunshine. his lyrics can be so witty, funny, sad. and this new release -- i love it. classic Dave.

harley and i went to see them perform last night in London and i am, even after 11 years of fandom and four previous concerts, still absolutely in love with these overwhelmingly talented musicians. they are, truly, overwhelming. if you play an instrument, you know what i'm talking about. you don't see many dave cover bands out there. it's not just dave, either. it's carter beauford on drums, boyd tinsely on violin, tim reynolds (yes, he was there) on guitar, stefan lessard on bass, jeff coffin (in LeRoi Moore's spot) on sax, and the trumpet player (hm. i don't know his name)...i think it's just too much.

and its not just the music, its the meaning. the associations. college dorm rooms. trips to OSU for some party or another. getting ready to go out. the Gorge at George in August. Tecate man! late nights alone and feeling lonely. sunny summers. road trips. a train to london and a bottle of wine.

as we walked out of the concert, the iPhones were lighting up all around us as news of Michael Jackson's death hit the london airwaves. it was like a crazy ripple effect. our ears were still ringing from dave when we heard about michael. although i wasn't ever a michael jackson fan, and i think the media reaction is a little bit much at this point, i can see how so many people are really mourning their pop icon. it isn't just michael jackson that has died. it is the person that wrote songs tied to their own memories -- childhood, growing up, MTV, first love, heartbreak, really bad yearbook pictures -- who is gone. both a reminder of how fast life is passing and another testament to the power of music.

a page turner

what i did on my summer vacation: 3,056 pages of fiction.

and not good, pulitzer prize-winning fiction. no book awards. no bettering myself. just escapeism. beach reads. chick-lit. like reading the entire TV series of Grey's Anatomy in one week. after two years of psychology, intercultural studies, and management strategies, it felt nice to relax my brain a bit.

oh, and a bottle of malibu rum helped.