The Band of Heathens

I stumbled upon these guys on Monday night at the best Mexican-food-slash-music-hall ever, Don Quixote's. For those who don't live in or near Santa Cruz, Don Quixote's is one of the best places to get up close to some amazing artists. The guy who books the music is phenomenal. And the people are super-nice. The lady who was collecting money at the door said to me when I walked up with my $10, "Just one?".
Me: "Yeah, unfortunately. I'm all alone."
Her: "Oh, you're never alone!"

Some of the best shows I've seen in Santa Cruz have been at DQ's.

Anyway, these guys are from Texas, and when I see Texas bands pass through I always like to check them out. The last Texas artist I saw at DQ was an old cowboy singer. He sang songs about stampedes, river crossings, and trains.

These guys sang songs about going to Mexico.
And "...girls who move like smoke, and sneak under my door..."
And "...get the girl a brisket and she's happy..."
And "...you're the sugar in my black coffee..."
And "...Jenny was a keeper. She kept my hat. She kept my truck..."
And an eight-minute jam on a song about cornbread.

Check these guys out on iTunes - you'll dig 'em if you like country-rock-bluegrass.

"oh, my butt!!"

I carry a little memo pad with me all the time that I write stuff down in that I want to remember. A lot of what I write down is funny or inspiring things that people say.

After my recent trip to Texas, I was looking over the stuff I wrote down during my visit with my brother, Garrett, and his wife, Denise, in Houston. They have three kids - Mason, Madison, and Mitchell. The funniest thing I heard came from Mitchell. He's nearly five years old and really smart. At one point he was playing with Adria on the living room floor while I sat in a barstool with my back to them, visiting with Garrett and Denise. All I heard was "OH, MY BUTT!!" I turned around in time to see Mitchell running towards the stairs, in his socked feet, being careful not to slide out as he crossed from the carpet to the tile to make the turn to the stairs. Adria and I looked at each other and cracked up. My brother just shook his head. We're still not sure if he had to poop and was running for the toilet, or if he gave himself a wedgie and ran from the room to fix it. Here's a picture of his butt:

This is me pushing Mitchell to jump from the swing and trying get him to fly across the line in the sand. He didn't make it, and proceeded to re-draw a line in the sand closer to the swing. He made that one. He's a little daredevil.Me and Denise:

Mason, Mitchell's little brother, and the cutest seven-month-old on the planet:

Family portrait on the stairs:

Garrett killed it in the kitchen during our visit. For lunch one day, he made grilled cedar-plank salmon with red potatoes and asparagus. Our last evening he busted out with the following dessert: grilled bananas stuffed with fresh raspberries and a dark rum-caramel sauce, served with ice cream. Good job, G!

Me, Adria, and Mitchell at the park, just before the duck-feeding.After a few days, we left Houston and drove to San Antonio to visit Dad and JoAnn. Between Houston and San Antonio, Adria exclaimed at least four times: "We're in Texas!" We went to the Alamo on Feb. 23, which happens to be the anniversary of the first day of the attack on the Alamo by the Mexicans back in 1863. Here's a picture of me and Adria and JoAnn and Dad in front of the Alamo.

We hung out at the Rusty Bucket, a piece of land that my folks are working on. Adria was stoked because she got to drive a tractor. "Next time," she said when we were leaving, "I want to do some real work with that tractor."

That night we slept in a loft in the barn: