Monthly Archives: June 2006

On the Road

Fishing report

Weather: Sunny, almost-but-not-quite-too warm.

Fishing: eh. Dad caught one, Tom caught one, Rockford caught one and I caught the biggest piece of driftwood ever.

Boat: Left us stranded in the middle of the river. Had to paddle back. It was a good workout, at least. And it wasn’t raining. So there’s that.

Baby: Had a 103-degree fever, scaring me pretty darn badly. Rockford and Genia took her to the doctor yesterday (apparently the nicest doctor in the whole world), and she had infections in both ears. She’s on antibiotics, etc., and feeling a little better. She’s giggling again, at least, so we’re OK.

Music, On the Road

South Dakota mix

South Dakota is much prettier than I’d expected it to be. I’m not sure exactly what I was expecting, but it wasn’t the nice rolling hills and bucolic farms we found there.

It was pleasant driving today, and the iPod was apparently picking up on that. It was pretty mellow from the time we plugged it in — a little ways into South Dakota — until we crossed into North Dakota.

iPod’s South Dakota mix

  • Summertime Killer Luis Bucalov
  • Pass in Time Beth Orton
  • Green Grow the Rushes REM
  • I Saw the Light Todd Rundgren
  • Coldsweat The Sugarcubes
  • Cemetery Party Air
  • Yellow and Rose James Taylor
  • Friend Golden Smog
  • Under Control The Strokes
  • Distant Land Mad Lib
  • Auctioneer REM
  • Surfin’ USA The Beach Boys
  • Catch the Sun The Doves
  • Kate Ben Folds Five
  • Take My Word Uncle Tupelo
  • Angel Band The Stanley Brothers
  • Satan, Your Kingdom Must Come Down Uncle Tupelo
  • Nicotine and Gravy Beck
  • Bouncin’ Round the Room Phish (as we passed over the Continental Divide!)
  • Everloving Moby
  • Retrieval of You The Minus 5
  • At Least That’s What You Said Wilco
  • Vertigo U2
  • The Girl from Ipanema A. Gilberto
    • Family matters

    … earliest memory

    I’m 3, maybe 4. I’m still an only child.

    Sunday Scribblings

    It’s early evening, I think, and my dad comes home from work. He swoops me up, and I start patting around on his denim jacket.

    I’m looking for a treat.

    I ask, in my little toddler language, if Dad’s brought anything home for me.

    And he has.

    A Butterfinger.

    Still my favorite.