November 15, 2009
So Let Me Get This Straight
"You sent Dave Matthews a tweet. With a link to a 41 page post. And in tiny print up at the top you mention you are going to be in Vegas and ask to meet him and hang out with him after the show. And say please and thank you in Afrikaans."
"That's just the way the words came out."
"And you think that's going to work."
"You can't get what you don't ask for."
"He's probably thinking stalker."
"It's Vegas, baby. I'm going to risk it. Dice are already in the air."
Posted by Angela Tanner at 08:59 AM | Comments (0)
November 03, 2009
If a Picture's Worth a Thousand Words
So the other day I exported all 12 years of pondring to a text file for a backup.
Six hundred and sixty seven pages. (Even I was surprised.) That's just a fraction of what could have been posted. No, those six hundred and some pages were just excerpts from a much, much lengthier story.
I searched through the entire thing, and pulled out quite a few of the Dave Matthews posts. Truth be told, I could have kept on for hours, but stopped when I hit 41 pages. Because it really couldn't have been any other number.
I posted the entire lot, all 41 pages on one of pondring's appendages..
Give or take, it's 14,000 words. Which I hope is worth a picture. Maybe that 41 or any other art Dave sees fit to bestow after hanging with me for a bit after Thursday's show.
Believe it or not, comments are on over there.
Posted by Angela Tanner at 06:17 PM | Comments (0)
October 21, 2009
Prologue
Occam’s Razor: The simplest explanation for a phenomenon is most likely the correct explanation.
I was conceived the day Dave Matthews was born. When the angels assigned to him safely delivered him to earth, and went back up for their next assignment – me – they still had some Dave on their hands.
Rather than change it they simply ordained it to remain latent in me, psychologically and pathologically, for thirty years.
Posted by Angela Tanner at 09:47 AM | Comments (0)
August 24, 2009
Peace, Love, Beauty, and Dave
My sister made these for me. Ostensibly tea bag holders, but they have been, instead, put on my shelf and now hold tiny things that I pick up and play with as I putter about my house.
Posted by Angela Tanner at 10:01 AM | Comments (0)
July 13, 2009
Like Will It Rain Today
The forecast said only 20% but scattered thunderstorms were possible. I failed to notice the part where it said 100% humidity. And because I was sitting under my outdoor ceiling fan when I checked the weather I was a bit oblivious.
So I got out the mower and the bag and set off for the front yard. Made about three passes before I started to melt. Fortunately the amount of lawn in my front yard is small. And the city picks up absolutely anything one leaves at the curb, including grass and leaves, so dumping the bag is easy. Actually the whole thing is easy. Thirty minutes, maximum of four trips to dump the grass.
My brother built his wife a new sauna. Push mowing the yard I figure has much the same effect. Plus, despite my melting, I enjoy it.
And as long as the rain holds off, I will continue to enjoy my multitude of yard projects.
Plus, I got up early this morning and got five of my expense reports and my time sheet submitted. I feel like Rocky at the top of the steps when I hit SUBMIT that many times in a row. I don't know why I dread doing them so much when they are as easy as they are.
The sweat has stopped running down my face. For the moment anyway, I've stopped below the ceiling fan on the porch.
As I believe I mentioned on either Twitter or FB, I've got five weeks off starting this Friday. Three of those weeks are compliments of a sabbatical program at work, and two are regular vacation.
There's lots of sweat dripping in my near future.
And rock raking.
Somewhere in the very near future I need to learn enough Italian to get Shea and I around Rome.
We're still only at a third of our arbitrary budget.
Speaking of Sheaness.
Posted by Angela Tanner at 12:59 PM | Comments (0)
June 06, 2009
All Dave, All Day
And the show on Fuse is just icing on the cake.
Damn. Dave looks great and is sounding equally delicious.
Posted by Angela Tanner at 07:11 PM | Comments (0)
Walks, Talks, and Snorts
I'm home, having coffee, and listening to Big Whiskey. For the umpteenth time, but the first time in the quiet that is my home. Just me and the band.
I've got a friend in the DC area that found me through (if memory serves) a Dave-related post on pondring a few years ago. It was the first common thread. Derrick is as big a fan as I am.
(He also seems to share my lack of spatial perception.)
I was working near DC a couple of years ago, so he and I met for the first time for dinner. This past week I let him know I'd be in the area, so he came downtown Tuesday night. He sent me a text earlier in the day saying he was at the store buying Big Whiskey, and got me one too.
When we caught up with each other outside the Verizon Center, I remembered to hug him first and THEN ask for the CD.
We walked and talked and eventually found our way to Gordon Biersch for some beers and dinner.
I've previously mentioned that Derrick is one funny mofo. His job is one I find particularly fascinating, and he's got no shortage of stories. I found myself snorting repeatedly.
Fortunately it only served to encourage him. We walked and talked more after dinner, until late. Well, late for me. He's a night owl.
Wednesday night we met in Reston's Towne Center. Walked around a bit and finally found our way to a cool restaurant that had a bar outside. We sat and drank and talked and people-watched for a while.
I snorted.
We were sitting at the short end of the bar. When I sat down there was a large white envelope leaning against the wall. The bartender asked if it was mine, and I said no. Thinking someone might come back for it, we left it there.
After a bit of time curiosity got the better of me, so I opened the envelope. It was a resume and a CD.
Derrick and I started to postulate. I wondered whether I should call the guy's number from the bottom of the paper. Then wondered if maybe he had met someone here for an interview, and the interviewer didn't think the resume was worth taking with him. Maybe. So if I called the guy, maybe he'd know the interview sucked.
Who knows.
Eventually I took the papers out of the envelope, found the phone number at the bottom, and called it.
The guy that answered the phone had never heard the name I gave him from the resume. I said thanks and hung up.
Then kept reading. There were some serious typos in the thing.
I put it back in the envelope, handed it to the bartender, and told him what it was, and that I had called the number on it with no luck.
He took it from me, looked at it for about 20 seconds, pondring, you could see it.
He put the thing in the trash.
And Derrick and I continued our conversation. Which include more stories about his job, running bar-patron-people-watching commentary, and more snorts.
We had a nice dinner, and while eating, the skies opened up. It was still pouring when we were done eating, and neither of us had an umbrella. So we darted our way from awning to awning, and then through a movie theatre, toward the parking garages.
We got to the garage I was parked in first, so I drove him to his car, which was in a garage just down the road. When he got in, Big Whiskey was, of course, in the CD player of the crap rental car.
(Which made it tolerable.)
I put on his favorite song, drove the short distance, we said our goodbyes, and I went back to DC.
(Thursday he had to work, and I, having stayed up for three nights in a row until midnight or after, ordered food in my room and was asleep by 9:30.)
I called him when I got home last night, and right away heard the music in the background. "That sounds like Grux," I say.
"It is," he says. Then says the CD is playing for the fourth time in a row.
What's not to like about that.
Right now, I've got three more times through ahead of me, in the quiet of my home. Me, coffee, and the band.
Thanks again, Derrick, for Big Whiskey, the walks and talks. And snorts.
Posted by Angela Tanner at 11:18 AM | Comments (0)
June 05, 2009
Cute Cute Cute
I thought Jimmy did an excellent job here.
Posted by Angela Tanner at 07:26 AM | Comments (0)
February 21, 2009
A Penny Saved
Is a penny saved toward hiring Dave to play at my birthday party. But two bonuses earned from busting my ass last year got me there a whole lot faster.
I'm having a hard time using prudent in a sentence here.
Posted by Angela Tanner at 10:49 AM | Comments (0)
February 20, 2009
East Bound and Down
No idea why that song is going through my head. But I figured it best to let it out.
So I was able to get an earlier flight out of Boston today. And when one is going to get home at the time one had planned to leave, well one doesn't mind riding in steerage.
The flight attendants don't make announcements when first class is boarding, and since I was close to the next one on the plane after that, I heard all of the announcements.
Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen and welcome aboard Delta flight [whatever] to Atlanta's Hartsfield Jackson International Airport. A few reminders as you are getting settled in. Each passenger is allowed two carry-on bags. We ask that you put your larger item in the overhead compartment, and your smaller item under the seat in front of you so that we may accommodate everyone's bags for our flight this afternoon.
This plane is equipped with extended overhead bins on the side of the plane with three seats. We ask that if you have brought a roll-aboard on board today that you place it into the overhead bin either wheels or handles first. This will allow us to accommodate all our passengers making this trip to Atlanta today, and we want to make sure we can accommodate everyone's bags.
For those of you seated in a bulkhead seat, this is a row of seats with a wall in front of it, all of your bags need to go in the overhead bin. The aisle in front of you must be completely clear, and you may not have anything beside, behind or resting on your feet. This includes purses.
If your bag will not fit, or you are having trouble finding room, please let a flight attendant know and we will be happy to check your bag through to your final destination.
Thank you and welcome aboard.
Two minutes later...
And once again good afternoon ladies and gentlemen. For those of you just joining us we would like to take this opportunity to welcome you on board today. We are ten minutes away from an on-time departure for our two hour and twenty minute flight to Atlanta's Hartsfield Jackson International Airport. We ask for your help in ensuring an on-time departure today. We ask that those of you in the aisles please step out of the aisle once you have found your seat to allow those passengers seated behind you to make their way to their seats.
For those of you with coats, we ask that you hang on to them until we have accommodated everyone's carry-on bags. We have a full flight and would like to accommodate all our passengers for our flight to Atlanta. Cell phones may be used while we are at the gate. Once the boarding door is closed it will be necessary for you to turn off all blackberries, blueberries, strawberries and any other berries you may have brought on board with you today. These need to be placed in the off position and may not be used on board at any time during our flight.
Once we have reached our cruising altitude, we will let you know when it is safe to use approved portable electronic devices. A list of approved portable electronic devices may be found in the Sky Magazine located in the seat-back pocket in front of you.
Minutes after that it was a repeat of BOTH previous announcements in some form or fashion…
And once again ladies and gentlemen…
Except this time we were five minutes until an on-time departure. I bet he said the full name of the Atlanta airport at least five times before we took off. Plus the requisite…
Prior to aircraft movement, all passengers must in their seats with seatbelts securely fastened, and baggage stowed, seat backs and tray tables in their fully locked and upright position. Window shades need to be open, and all electronic devices need to be placed in the off position and stowed for takeoff. Flight attendants will be coming through the aisles to answer any questions you may have and then must be seated for taxi and takeoff. Thank you and welcome on board.
Meanwhile, I’m in the window seat on the three-seat side, watching the plane fill up. And still the two seats beside me remained empty. Imagine my delight when they remained so after the boarding door was closed.
I moved to the aisle seat and stretched out. [Membership has its privileges.] Of course the closing of the boarding door triggers yet another announcement. Albeit it a short one, and sans fruit references.
Moments later as we push back from the gate, the safety stuff starts. All passengers are asked to pay close attention, even if we are frequent fliers.
No.
Because the chances are high that if a substantial change (in the design, function, or operation of the aircraft in general, or any component therein of which it was necessary for me to have carnal knowledge) had transpired since I last flew, an announcement would contain words unfamiliar, and my ears would pick it up right away.
Otherwise, paying attention is not going to result in any additional new information for my brain relative to the safety procedures or mine or your responsibilities on board this aircraft at any time. I am well aware of the location of the exits, and that the closest one may be behind me. I know how to operate a seat belt. I know where the life jackets are and how to use them. I know I cannot smoke anywhere on the plane. I know what I can, and cannot place in the on position while on board. I know where the seat-back pocket is. I know the Sky Magazine is mine to take with me if I wish. I know that if my Sky magazine has been written in, that I can ask a flight attendant for another one. I know where the passenger service unit is. I know how to operate the lights, the air vent, the flight attendant call button, and to press it again if I hit it by mistake, and that will turn it off. I know that the air bag may not fully inflate, and I know not to touch the dispensing unit.
Like fucking Pavlov’s dog I respond to the dings and bells and the landing gear going up and down. Your unnecessary verbosity and gross misuse of the English language perplex and annoy me.
Seems to me you could say one time, once everyone is on board, in a clear, deliberate voice what flight we are on and where we are going. Use the entire name of the airport if you feel you must, but really, once is enough.
For those that feel the insatiable urge to tell us where we are going [once again ladies and gentlemen], after we are already in the air, then in the name of all that is good and succinct, the city will suffice. Save syllables (Atlanta and Cincinnati both come to mind) and use your breath on more important matters, like pronouncing the city right.
And. Please. Stop. Starting. Every. Sentence. With. And.
Take a cue from Dave Matthews. “Hello again.” Then get on with it.
Here, or wherever your final destination may take you.
See. I let one song out and another one came in.
Thanks, Dave.
Posted by Angela Tanner at 06:19 PM | Comments (0)
October 31, 2008
Hello Halloween
I got a little bit more time until I have to say goodbye to October.
For your reading pleasure, interesting facts about Dave's song Halloween.
I had two on-time, first class flights home today, two stellar crews, spent my time between flights in Atlanta having Qdoba vegetarian nachos, listening to the woman play the baby grand in the E concourse, and having a delightful conversation in Spanish with Diego, a 18-month old little boy who was standing on the other side of the countertop table where I was eating.
Diego was on his way to London, but seemed way more interested in the straw he was chewing on.
After I ate, I strolled back to the B concourse, talked to my brother, my mom, and left a message for my sister; and wandered to my gate.
(For Halloween today I was dressed as a hopeful Cubs fan.)
At the gate, a man approached me and said, "ah, the Cubs fan I almost knocked over in the E concourse."
Seemed to me I would have remembered almost being knocked over. Maybe not. Tough to say. So I said what came to my mind.
"Huh?"
He made his claim again and then proceeded to launch into a lengthy story about his experiences with the Chicago Cubs.
Without taking a breath it seems, he then told me all about his work, and told me he was on a project from hell.
Then proceeded to describe, in detail, the hell.
The Delta agent called him to the podium, and when he got back he announced to me that the agent had told him to wait to board because he may be upgraded.
Then he just kept on talking. Meanwhile he starts digging in his bag and hands me a business card.
It didn't do much to answer my unspoken question of "who the hell are you?"
Fortunately they called for boarding not long after that, so I excused myself from the one-sided conversation and got on the plane.
Wheels down less than an hour later. No bags checked, Jalepeno at the front of the garage, and no traffic on the highway.
Home.
I turned on the computer and checked my email. Happy to see there were just a couple of new ones, and nothing that needed attention today.
So I shut that down, then went and browsed pondring's stats page.
It's been a busy October. And when I bothered to look to the column on the right, I see its possible pondring will reach 100,000 hits here by the end of the year.
Huh.
That's kind of cool.
And it's also kind of funny, because I don't know who the hell you guys are, either.
Well, that's not entirely true. I think I could now name over 10 of you.
The rest, who's to say.
Happy Halloween, either way.
Posted by Angela Tanner at 10:27 PM | Comments (0)
October 07, 2008
Happy Birthday to Me
While I was out digging in the dirt yesterday, I kept looking down thinking I had something on my arm.
I did. A new tattoo. Tattoo two.
My firedancer. With her newly-tattooed red aura which will go away. And that’s okay.
I went in to the shop on Sunday. An odd little man behind the counter got some basic information from me, and then asked me which artist I wanted.
I said, “I looked on your website, and any of them would be overqualified for what I want, and it’s okay if they laugh at me.”
After a few moments, I was introduced to an artist, whose name I did not catch due to the very high volume of the rock music playing. He was busy with someone else, but stopped for a moment to see the little picture I brought with me, and give me an estimate.
The odd little man got a deposit from me, and made an appointment for Monday at 12:30.
I will admit that the artist scared me ever so slightly. But he seemed to do good work.
When I got there yesterday, I went to use the bathroom, and noticed him in his room spraying down everything. I then noticed that the bathroom was cleaner than pretty much any other one I’ve ever seen, and the checklists on the walls were up to date.
Better 5S than most businesses I’ve seen, too. (I know they have to. Technically, there are lots of places that have to and yet, don’t.)
And the artist, turned out to be named Buck, was a teddy bear.
He had printed a template and held it out to me once I got settled in.
I held out the same template, modified to suit the style of me.
I wanted smooth lines. I wanted her ass smaller. And her arms to look less like stumps. More symmetrical. And no ribs showing. Solid black. I did leave her right arm ever so slightly spooky.
So he suggested he make the tracing directly from my drawing. I said cool.
When Buck had the outline cut out, he placed it on the very center of my forearm. Which was a different place than I had said I wanted a day earlier.
Then I was surprised to find I had a preference to NOT have it centered. He moved it up, and moved it down, and I decided on up.
Oh, how very much it felt like he was slicing into my arm with a large sharp knife. I was sure if I looked, that I would see my right forearm flayed, firedancer flap of skin flapping in the wind, so to speak.
And yet, I looked. Glanced, really. And didn’t see any blood. I think he was barely done with her foot.
I admitted to Buck I’m a bit of a woos, so he capably held my arm down after that.
Once it was way past too late to change her location, he told me that the further up the forearm one goes toward the elbow, the more painful it is.
I said had he told me that at the beginning, she’d be a lot lower on my arm.
He said he never mentions pain to someone.
I thought that sounded like a really good strategy.
So as it turned out, it’s a different size, different color, and in a totally different place than Sunday's tattoo would have been.
Pondring anything does that, you know.
Sometimes it conjures better.
Now if I can just get Dave to autograph her with a 41.
Posted by Angela Tanner at 12:12 PM | Comments (0)
August 20, 2008
A Sad Sad Day for Music
LeRoi Moore, the saxophone player from the Dave Matthews Band died yesterday.
Sad, sad, sad. And I just knew the music.
Can't compare to those that knew the man.
Posted by Angela Tanner at 07:50 PM | Comments (0)
July 11, 2008
La La La Hey
Could I have been lost somewhere in Paris?
Not with Nuvi, no. (My ex updated it for me about a month ago, and when he gave it back to me he had changed the vehicle on the display. He said he first considered the wood-paneled station wagon, but in the end decided on the short bus.)
I finished my class in St. Louis today about 3:00 and headed to the airport pondring perhaps getting an earlier flight. I turned in my rental car, got on the bus, got off at the terminal, went inside and checked the boards to find both the 3:00 hour and the 4:00 hour flights to Atlanta cancelled. I tried to check in for my flight at the kiosk and got a message saying that there was some problem with my flight.
So I got in line, and while waiting got on the phone to the travel agent.
Weather in Atlanta, it seems. The travel agent says there is a flight on American through Chicago that would get me home at ten something. Except it left in 45 minutes. Not enough time to make that one.
Everything else headed the right direction is sold out. I tell her I'll continue to wait in line and see what the agent said.
My flight is delayed over two hours. I'd miss my connection in Atlanta, but could drive home from there. I did the math lightening fast in my head and figured I'd be home by about 3 AM.
But there was more math to be done, of the probability variety.
There was the chance that I'd wait around until 8:45 PM, and that flight wouldn't leave at all. Then I'd be stuck in STL for the night, and considering I'm leaving for vacation tomorrow night, that thought didn't appeal to me at all.
I walked away from the agent without checking in or making any decisions and went outside to ponder.
While reaching in my bag for my phone charger, Nuvi jumped out at me and told me that if I drove home (yes from St. Louis), that I'd get here at 4:13 AM.
So I went to the rental car counter, booked a car, and when the guy printed my receipt he said, "wow you got a good deal. Hey, Steve, guess how much her rental is for a one way drop in Greenville?"
Steve didn't venture a guess. I didn't either, but had I, I would have been WAY off.
Fifty six bucks for a mid-size car.
I ask, "does it have tires?"
He says yes, four of them.
"And an engine?"
"Yep. And air conditioning. Can you believe that Steve?"
I really don't think Steve cared. Nor did I. Delta refunded me 400 dollars for the flight I wasn't going to take. Anything less than that for the car was a bonus.
So I got in the car and drove home. Stopped once for gas and two Red Bulls at about midnight, found a great radio station in Nashville, and apart from the fact that I couldn't see the Great Smoky Mountains as I drove through them, it wasn't a bad drive.
I pulled into the rental car return spot in Greenville at 4:14 AM. (Nuvi is like magic sometimes.)
I filled out the little rental return thing, and as I walked toward the terminal noticed an unusual volume of people inside.
As the sliding doors opened, a guy was walking out with a checked bag in his hand. And I could see behind him many people still waiting at baggage claim. I asked him where he had just come from.
"American flight from Chicago. Should have been here at ten something."
I said thanks, dropped my keys off at the counter, found Jalenpeno right where I left her, paid the parking machine, and headed south once more.
When I pulled in my driveway there was standing water on it, and I could see in the headlights that the mulch in the front yard was almost black. Involuntarily my mind went back to the moment at the ticket counter in St. Louis almost exactly 12 hours previous and it played the drive home.
When I opened the door, had any creatures been watching or listening, they would have seen me smile largely and say out loud, "yeah, but we had RAIN."
And everything was okay.
La la la hey.
Posted by Angela Tanner at 04:58 AM | Comments (0)
July 06, 2008
Hey La La La
Hey my friend it seems your eyes are troubled. Care to share your time with me? Would you say you're feeling low? And so a good idea would be to get it off your mind.
Dave, Dave, Dave. A prelude to an entire evening in a verse.
I love you, man.
So I did. I got it off my mind.
And he said, “Are you fucking kidding me?”
Then before I could shake my head he asked again, more slowly, and if possible, with even more disbelief in his voice, “are…you…fucking…kidding…me. Who does that?”
And now that some time has passed, I can tell the story.
The he in question asking me this was a story all by himself. Many years younger than me, obscenely good looking, single, professional, and a very stylish dresser.
We were leaning on the railing of an outdoor balcony in a really nice hotel. How we got to be there was a story all by itself too. (He and I leaning – not the physics of getting to the hotel.) My girlfriends, sisters from different mothers, had been with me earlier in the evening (along with about 200 of our closest coworkers and managers) to see my long-term relationship with a man (one of the 200 present) implode. Maybe it was explode. Either way, there was a plode involved. (And that word is now (C) 2008 Me.)
And it would just be an understatement to say that it (the aforementioned plode, you're going to have to pay attention here) caught me off guard.
So my girlfriends rallied around me, deciding I need some distraction. And chose one of the single guys from the crowd as my date for the evening.
No half measures there.
First he should look like a GQ model. Check.
And be totally single and unattached. Check.
And be dressed to the nines, in that model-way. Check.
And be half my age, or there about, please and thank you.
Check. And you’re welcome.
I’ll tell you what I was telepathing to my BFFs and it just about rhymes with are you fucking kidding me: I’m 40, and have just been unceremoniously dismissed by a short, fat, bald man, and you taunt me with the eye candy.
And of course my potential date had an entire arsenal of responses which I’m sure in his young life he has used countless times to fend off ladies: he had plans; it was packing night; he had gone out the night before and wanted an early evening; not no but hell no you’re old; and the now infamous, AYFKM.
Did he use a one of them? Nope, he declared me and my outfit amazing, and took my hand for the rest of the evening.
This thusly began for us on the balcony. Where I got it off my mind. He learned why my girlfriends figured I might need some distraction and general looking-after at that particular moment in history.
And you already know his response.
Was there anything that could be done? No. Then make the best of what’s around.
Let’s see, short fat bald guy avoiding me like Dengue fever, or, um totally the opposite of that standing right there with me holding my hand.
You may already expect that Dave’s got the resolution.
Well she ran up into the light surprised
Her arms are open
Her mind's eye is
Seeing things from a
Better side than most can dream
On a clearer road I feel
Oh you could say she's safe
Whatever tears at her
Whatever holds her down
And if nothing can be done
She'll make the best of what's around.
Hey, la la la.
Posted by Angela Tanner at 01:40 PM | Comments (0)