Currently sitting in Reagan National Airport, fixing to hop on a Chicago-bound plane with the whole fam. Two parents. One three year old. One five month old. Pray for us.
Speaking of prayer, I thought I’d designate “Jesus, Etc.” as my musical away message. I found an original pressing of Yankee Hotel Foxtrot on Wednesday, which still blows my mind. I’d even saved the repress on my Discogs want list, thinking I’d never find an original within a reasonable price range. The vinyl gods have clearly blessed this mess of a trip.
I’ll be sure to say hi to the Wilco Towers™ for y’all.
Heading to Jersey then Hilton Head for a week. Quick CD Monday Update: After cross referencing the album cut and a random live recording, I’m certain that the orchestral version of “Guyute” is my favorite.
Took this at the turnaround point of yesterday’s run (back at the beach this week). This fence separates the rest of the Corolla beach from the northernmost 4WD-only part, which cracks me up because it makes me think of Jurassic Park, like the trucks and SUVs are going to break out and wreak havoc when they find out the fence isn’t electrified. Whenever I want to run a little further and need to wriggle through the cables, I half expect this to happen.
We’ve eaten spicy food, we’ve gone on many, many walks… this kid just refuses to leave the friendly confines of Mrs. YHT’s midsection. Well the adorable little squatter is in for quite a surprise this weekend, as our doc has decided it’s time to induce. Eviction party starts Saturday night. Wish us luck, y’all.
Heading to Siesta Key to visit some grandparents/get some sun/pray that we don’t come home to a flooded downstairs bathroom. There’s some really great stuff I can’t wait to share with you next week. Here’s a hint. Here’s another. Until then, some Booker T.
In a few hours, I’ll hop in my Honda Fit, which is fitted with tires the size of roller skate wheels, and drive north, directly into this winter storm that people have been talking about for days. Basically what Dennis Quaid did in The Day After Tomorrow to rescue Jake Gyllenhaal. Why? Because this is America, and a little I-95 Slip ‘n Slide ain’t gonna stop me from spending Thanksgiving with Mrs. YHT and the merry band of Harrisburgers she calls her extended family.