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My last post was about visiting family in Idaho. I had two reasons to go there, and the second one was music.

Alana Davis knocks us flat with her amazing voice.

Alana Davis knocks us flat with her amazing voice.

Marcus Eaton at the Sapphire Room at the Boise Riverside Hotel.

Marcus Eaton at the Sapphire Room at the Boise Riverside Hotel.

A few of us die-hard Marcus Eaton fans know a little about each other. So when we heard that Marcus would be in Idaho visiting family and putting on a show with newly-Idahoan Alana Davis, I got some pressure along the lines of, “You should go to Idaho, visit your dad, and catch the show while you’re there.” Thank you for pushing me guys, it was the best one yet!

I’m a fan of Alan Davis too! Years ago I found out that Ani DiFranco’s song was actually a cover of Alana Davis’ 32 Flavors, so I bought her album Blame It On Me, and became a fan on the spot. Turns out she lives in Idaho now, and was able to participate in the Idaho Songwriters Association December concert. When Alana played 32 Flavors, she brought Marcus onto the stage with her and we got to hear their guitars together. I go weak in the knees for acoustic guitar.

My brother joined Tara and me at The Sapphire Room. My brother was the manager at The Big Easy (before it became the Knitting Factory) and had seen Marcus play a dozen times, but this was mostly new music for him. The delicious surprise was that there was a lot of new music for me too! While I have seen songs like Smile, and Sunrise Lets You Down on YouTube, this was my first time hearing them live.

Marcus also treated us to a song or two from the new album, one he co-wrote with David Crosby, and a couple brand, brand new songs too! I have been *starving* for new music, and it was the medicine I needed. He played song after song, covering a Bob Marley tune with Alana, and playing a song with his dad Steve Eaton, also an accomplished musician. Marcus joked about the drawback of many harmonica players, but pointed out that “My dad can actually play the harmonica.” And he could. Steve sang one of his own songs called Asleep at the Wheel that made lots of Idaho references, making a fun song even more enjoyable.

Marcus and Alana share the stage.

Marcus and Alana share the stage.

Most of my shots were from behind the stage, since that is where our seats were.

Most of my shots were from behind the stage, since that is where our seats were.

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We had been there nearly three hours when the show ended. I introduced my brother to Marcus and Tara was finally able to say Hi (she is prohibited from attending all his 21+ shows). Those two wanted to go home and sleep, but I was soaring on adrenalin and wanted to stay. My brother gave me the number for a local cab and I handed him my keys.

After the show I was approached by Melissa, who had noticed my camera and asked if I would take photos, since their usual photographer was not there. I happily acquiesced, and the after-show shots of all the folks involved with the concert and the Idaho Songwriters Association turned out great. Turns out that Steve Eaton founded the Idaho Songwriters Association, and remains active and supportive in it. While waiting for others to come together for the photos, I was able to meet and talk with Steve. His enthusiasm for his son’s career, and his love for his son, was evident.

After photos Marcus was swarmed by fans, friends, and family (and those categories totally overlapped). It was a brilliant thing for me to see: the musician at home. Something I feel honored to have witnessed. The love and admiration was palpable. I stood to the side, waiting for my turn. I had the chance to talk with his brother, and his sister, and his mom. The whole family is warm, wonderful, generous, the way I’ve come to expect of the Idahoans I’ve known. Everyone was buying up the gorgeous concert posters his brother made, then getting autographs all over them. It was a frenzy of favors and silver ink and laughs.

Steve Eaton, Alana Davis, Marcus Eaton.

Steve Eaton, Alana Davis, Marcus Eaton.

When most of the people were gone, a few of us fans followed him to another room where he packed up his gear. Marcus’ sister begged him for the use of his phone charger. His mom came in with a friend and we all sat around a large round table and told stories and got to know each other a little. Marcus is a born storyteller, periodically having to get up and act out the tale, once even enlisting the help of the Ohio fan to play a part of “ordinary guy” to his “obnoxious L.A. native.”

When it was time to go, Marcus overheard me calling a cab. He told me to call them back and cancel, and I got a ride home with him and his sister, while his mom drove. Now THAT was the pinnacle of a great evening for me. I couldn’t sleep for another two hours, just lay awake and grinned.

A pile of unused raccoon stickers just waiting to find a home.

A pile of unused raccoon stickers just waiting to find a home.

Oh! Oh! Oh! I am so excited to get this in the mail, you can’t even know. I am simply giggling with happiness. Hee hee. 🙂

Several months ago I wrote a blog post about a raccoon that had captured my imagination. I searched the Internet and found a webpage from the artist, and I left him a note saying how much I liked the raccoon, and sending a link to my blog post.

Monday I received all this in the mail! A simple manila envelope noting “Jst Productions” as the sender, and I hoped, but wasn’t sure, till I opened it up and found a huge pile of handmade raccoon stickers. I was bouncing with glee. Thank you Just1!

In case any of you are wondering, the answer is “yes.” Yes, I do intend to deface public property. I play the part of a good girl pretty well, but I’m a rebel inside and I am dying to get out into the city and tag something. I am a little disappointed that I didn’t receive the package in time to slap something up in Anaheim. But maybe my partner in crime, Arno, will help me spread them into the Gorge.

The first one goes on my car. This way I can take the raccoon with me all over the place.

The first one goes on my car. This way I can take the raccoon with me all over the place.

It’s the season for blossoms!

There is no better pink in the world than the pink of blossoms.

There is no better pink in the world than the pink of blossoms.

Flowers, sunshine, blue sky - if I'm not mistaken, it's Springtime!

Flowers, sunshine, blue sky – if I’m not mistaken, it’s Springtime!

Hey, this is one cool city.

When I walk to my bus stop each afternoon, the smell of lilies from the flower stand blows down 2nd avenue.

I wait for the bus in front of Starbucks under a covered seating area which blows warm air and is the perfect place to wait for a bus when it’s 30 degrees and raining.

While I wait, I have watched people pick up trash. There is no trash can right there at the Starbucks. There should be. People walk along, swerve into the street, pick up an empty juice bottle, or a wad of paper, or a straw still stuck through a plastic lid, and then swerve back onto the sidewalk and continue along. They don’t look at me to make sure I saw.

One time I saw the trash first, as I walked past. I thought, “Ugh. Dirty straw sticking through a plastic lid with sticky soda all over it. In the street. Eeew.” …and I walked on past, thinking about that warm air blowing from out of the covered coffee place. When I watched that lady pick it up, I felt ashamed.

So I made a commitment to myself (and to Portland) to pick up trash now. Why didn’t I think of it without being a public dork first?

Every single damn day on the bus, when people get off, they call “Thank you!” to the driver. Even when they get off in the back. Even when there are three people getting off through the back door. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

Of course, I always say thank you. Always. And I mean it too. So nyahh, I can at least do something on my own. (wink) Except … a little toooo friendly. My morning bus driver asked me out last Friday. Icky.

Walking home once when my daughter and I were late getting home, I met G. She’s one of my new neighbors. We got off the bus at the same time, and when she realized I was walking toward the house that had been for sale for over a year, she turned around and walked right back to me! She had a huge smile and introduced herself and gave me a hug. Then she pointed out all the neighbors she knows, her house across the street, and asked if I was a single mom, because she was, and then went on her way.

Our lovely lovely Earth is tilting on its axis, bending just far enough so that a single, reluctant beam of light stretches across the porch to light up the lock as I turn the key each evening.

Today it is not raining. My kitty loves me. My daughter loves me. There are teensy tinsy miniature daffodils blooming by the steps out front. I have never seen daffodils so small. They must only be 3 1/2 inches tall. It is brilliant.

I can’t help but to be happy, despite it all.

One of my many guises

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