We are in the van and going home.  Home!  I can hardly wait to see Jay.

Arthur's driving and Dan's riding shotgun.  Peter's in the first row, prone and sleeping.  Ditto Chris, in the second.  Ben's to my right w/ his pillow propped up in the window and his rad gas station sunglasses w/ wild tigers painted on the sides keeping the sun out of his eyes as he naps.

We're just past Ashland/Medford.  When we get back into Oregon and the fir trees, I feel almost giddy.  It's like I breathe better, or something.  All that dark green on the pretty hills and mountains just makes me feel good.

Palm trees used to depress me.  Now I can appreciate them a little better--esp. those ones that are really frondy--not as spindly.  The Rosicrucian Gardens palm trees were gorgeous--I love the trunks.  I think it's that palm trees represent heat to me, and gud but I hate heat.  Have I said this before?

We played in Chico last night, preceded by fanfare (three features on Chris in the local rags, including one w/ a giant half-page picture of his frightening head).  It was a good show w/ a very odd lineup.  I should probably stop there but I can't I can't...do you know that kind of singing voice that sounds like a guy straining to poo?  Well, that was there last night.  It strained and it strained but never did it poo.  If it had, I imagine the voice would've reacted by lightening and brightening considerably.  Kind of like the torturer in the tree in The Princess Bride after he clears his throat.

I am more convinced than ever after this tour that there are just way too many of us in the world.  Musicians.  I know which ones I would politely offer attractive severance packages to (poo voice).  No, of course not me!  Not I.  Though I'm sure there are many who would gladly extend the shiny engraved Parker pen to me.

I'm looking forward to getting home but I've had a good time.  Tour's always illuminating and an interesting shake-up. Takes me a few days to get into the swing of things, but being forced out of your daily routine and comfort zone every now and then can be a very good thing. 

I also feel fortunate to observe the fauna while living in their midst, firsthand witness to their strange ways and rituals.  The alpha male (I'll call him Chrisk) uses his trumpet-like, flatulant calls to rally the others in the tribe, but also to warn and to express disapproval.  The five males like to throw a puffy sphere when there is open space to be had. They welcomed me into this ritual, and i also experienced the trumpeting.  They are watchful of eachother and me and take care not to cross boundaries. They mostly like to sit around and drink kombucha.

What am I going to do when I return?  Sleep for a day, hug my own personal home toilet (and Jay, of course.  Maybe should've said that first...). Ride my bike up Riverview Cemetery w/ Jay and my sister Katie.  Stop by Gino's on the way back and eat some Grandma Jean's pasta w/ some wine.  Sleep some more. 

Hug Jay. Hug Jay. Hug Jay.