Laurabelle’s Blog

I’ve been in Seattle, the land of rain, for eight months now, and we’re just now having the first real thunderstorm. A couple of minutes ago there was a huge crash of thunder which alerted me to the fact that rain was pouring down outside. If Maggie were here, I would grab her and run dancing outside to get soaked among the tumbling droplets, but she’s not, and I’m a wimp, so I won’t.

Yesterday Jeff dragged me to Jason Webley’s first concert of the year. It was as much theater as music, and while I enjoyed it at the time, I’m not quite decided about whether I’d go to another concert of his. I probably would, but it was certainly strange. Men and women were in segregated seating (this irked Jeff, since this is the only time Jason has done this at a concert and the only time Jeff brought a girlfriend along), and there was a strong fertility theme (which involved throwing seeds and condoms, one of which, allegedly vanilla-flavored, hit me just above the left breast). That was all fine and good and fun, although I overheard one woman complaining, This is getting a bit too heterosexual for me.

The concert’s other theme was flying, which led to trekking out to a clearing in Ravenna Park, in the light rain, and launching a paper hot-air balloon powered by an alcohol fire. This being a small clearing in a thickly-wooded park, the balloon lost no time in catching itself in a tree and burning. At that point, Jeff and I left; the little alcohol fire was still burning, and the rest of the crazy people, undaunted, were evidently proceeding to launch another flimsy and fiery flier. Evidently Ravenna Park didn’t burn down, since I haven’t heard anything about it in the news, but nevertheless I’m not too crazy about going to concerts with pyromaniacs with no common sense. There’s not much sense in handing out condoms if we’re all going to play with literal matches.