Up in smoke

So, my dear friend from college (Hi Ed!) with whom I've recently gotten back in touch thought that the photo of Neil was my dad -- not my dad today, the '70s version. He pointed out that the hazy quality of the picture is reminiscent of photographs from that era, and I see what he means. You remember those photos -- not the thick, shiny ones with the white borders, but the ones on textured paper, usually square with rounded corners, probably taken with a Kodak Instamatic and that weird, telephone receiver-shaped film. Is this ringing any bells? Anyway, he suggested that I label it "My Neily-pie" or some other term of endearment. In lieu of that, I will root around my numerous boxes of photos to find some actual Vintage '70s Buchwalds on Vacation shots, and we can compare. But, this will have to wait until after my trip, because in the meantime, I have three days to finish an article, finish editing/rewriting a laborious web site on Oriental rug care and restoration, do my taxes (by "do" I mean gather everything and give it to someone who knows how to do them), shop for my trip, clean my apartment, get a pedicure, dye my hair ... what am I leaving out? Plans with Sandy (b) on Friday night, with Cheech on Saturday, and with Berun on Sunday. A woman's work is never done -- especially when said-woman leaves everything till the very last possible second.

Neil (not my dad) is in Norway right now on tour - tomorrow they head to Sweden. I accompanied this band on tour to Norway and Ireland last summer, and it was an incredible experience. As we're all a bit older and seemingly wiser now, this was not the hotel-trashing kind of tour one might associate with rock musicians. Instead, our outlaw behavior included stealing extra packets of tea from various B&B's, getting in trouble in a bar in Dublin for lighting a candle that had blown out, and -- our version of the rock star OD -- one of the band members ate too much Irish bacon and had an attack of gout. Quite a walk on the wild side, eh?

Here are a few shots from one of the shows they played in Donegal, in the north of Ireland (not to be confused with Northern Ireland, which we also visited). Neil, on the right with the accordion, had the misfortune of standing right where the special effects went off, and so every few moments the smoke machine would exhale, partially obscuring him from view, giving the illusion that he'd spontaneously combusted. The lighting effects were very rockstar, though, as you can see:



And here's a photo that I love of the rabble-rousers, or three-quarters of them: