Getting a Kelly Carwash

Where EG's starting to wish she had moved to warmer climes when she had the chance..

Tuesday, April 19, 2005

The George in George

It’s a rainy day and I’ve been listening to the kind of music that always puts me in an introspective mood. Whenever I get like this I find myself daydreaming about being any place but here. Any place but in the middle of the country where the ocean is a couple of thousand miles away and where our lives are run by the weather. The past few weeks have reminded me why I can be in love with Minnesota. It’s been just perfect: 65 degrees, sunny, and dry, and we’ve been outside every minute we can. But the last day or 2 it’s been humid… So, so humid… And cloudy. And wet. And this is what it’s like living here. It’s bitterly cold for a good 4 months of the year. Sometimes so cold that for days on end I’m only outside for a few minutes each day. Then we have 3 or 4 perfect weeks. But the humidity and the rain sneak up on us and pretty soon we’re either stuck inside again trying to stay dry, or fighting the sweat and the bugs. And it stays that way until about mid-September when it’s glorious again for, maybe, a month or so. We get another month and a half of fair weather, where we can probably sneak a few days of outside activity in, but you can’t really plan anything. And then we’re back to bitter cold.

When I’m thinking about where I’d love to live, the first place I always think of is California. The land of wine, perfect weather, and beautiful beaches. And median house values of $400,000. Damn. So I move my thoughts north, to Oregon (no jobs) and Washington (too much rain). Or to Colorado (no jobs AND expensive houses). And on and on it goes. Until, that is, I come to Phoenix, AZ. It’s not exactly close to the ocean, but much closer than here. It’s not exactly perfect weather, but I really do like it when it’s hot and dry. I could get a job there. I’d be much further from my parents, but much closer to my grandparents. Still, though, it feels like we wouldn’t really be gaining enough to make it worth it. Or we’re just too scared to make a move that big. Or a little bit of both.

Speaking of Washington and introspective music (how’s that for a segway?) I found out today that the Dave Matthews Band is going on tour this summer (doesn’t there new song just suck, though?) and they’re playing at the Gorge Amphitheater in Washington. We drove to northwestern Washington a couple of summers ago, and the gorge was one of our favorite parts of the trip. It’s mostly dessert, and you come over a big hill to find the entire Columbia River laid out before you. And all you can say is, “Wow…”

Ever since that trip, we’ve always called the gorge “The George”, and for the life of me I could never remember why. Until I looked at the tour stops for the DMB tour and saw that the Gorge Amphitheater is in George, Washington. Thus in our minds, “The Gorge” became “The George” and led to this conversation this afternoon:

“Dude! I forgot The George was in George!”
“How could you forget it was in George?”
“I hadn’t slept in 30 hours… After that long, I tend to forget things. But, Dude! The George!”
“So DMB is play at the George in George? Should we go?”
“What? Drive to the George in George? That’d be cool.”
“I’ve always wanted to see a concert at The George.”
“Me too. Hey… Why didn’t we name one of the dogs George?”

And for the rest of the night both dogs were George.

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