I remember the CD was almost exactly that color, and that Chris’ hearts looked a bit like lop-sided butts.

We went to see Ray LaMontagne play exactly one day after the United States overwhelmingly elected Barack Obama as our next president, and the air inside the beautifully old operatic-looking auditorium was one of excitement and celebration.

From beginning to end Ray’s show was, in a word, hopeful, and both he and his opener (Leona Naess, who is fidgety and brilliant; no really, go buy her CD right now) made mention of of our new President Elect Barack Obama, Ray himself calling him “a beautiful beautiful beautiful man,” while Leona played her entire opening set wearing a t-shirt showcasing Obama’s visage on the front.

Ray opened with You Are The Best Thing from his newest album, and closed with an amazing and unexpected second encore of John Lennon’s Imagine, and the entire time he was on stage I was smiling, not only because his voice is magic, his talent and passion so profound and tangibly felt during a live show, but also because from where he stood on the stage and from where I was sitting it felt like he was singing directly to me.

I even drew you a picture (in Microsoft Paint! Which I’m pretty sure I haven’t used since I was in Junior High) to help illustrate the complete Ray-to-Kerri stage-to-seat ratio:

See? Totally singing just to me.

And of course to Chris, and an auditorium full of fans, but it was dark, see, and anyway the room blurred a bit whenever Ray was singing.

In fact, I was so enthralled by Ray’s performance that I almost forgot how obnoxious the four people sitting behind us were during the entire show.

I almost forgot about how they oh so loudly decided during one set, “He’s like a sexy Jesus.” Which is, arguably, quite accurate, and we laughed. But they quickly spiraled from humorous to Embarrassing Concert Drunks, and a few minutes after they were asked for the third time to get their multiple alcoholic beverages out of the aisle, we both sat mouth agape as one of the classier fellows in the foursome burped so loudly our entire section heard him, and then, not two minutes later, we could hear him and his presumably blind and deaf date making out right behind us. Yeah, that situation was pretty much gross to the 10th power.

The overall performance also almost made me forget about the time one of them rudely yelled “Continue!” when he paused for a moment to talk about how he was feeling about the election, how excited he was, how he just wanted to dance and celebrate, so excited he had just completely forgotten the lyrics to Burn. The slurred “Continue!” that rose from behind us as we reflexively sunk lower in our seats–that was the moment when Chris and I looked at each other in horror and my eyes said “SO HELP ME,” and his eyes said “I’m going to punch this guy in the face if he does not STOP TALKING and also, can he please stop breathing his raunchy beer breath all over the backs of our necks?”

But ultimately, instead of loud-mouthed drunkards who shouldn’t be allowed entry into a concert as rad as Ray’s, when I think back on November 5th, and my first Ray LaMontagne show, I’ll remember how, for his first encore, Ray played Three More Days and Jolene, and nearly everyone was standing, and people around us started dancing in the aisles.

I’ll remember how he played Meg White and Hey Me, Hey Mama off his new album flawlessly, and when he played Shame, Shame, Shame, he played it so hard and so true–so intensely–that he lost his breath afterward and couldn’t stop laughing because he couldn’t start playing his next song when he originally intended to.

I’ll remember how I looked at him and took note of his full beard and tousled hair, his yellow and brown flannel shirt, and how the way he looked and handled his guitar reminded me a bit of Cat Stevens.

I’ll remember how, two minutes after sitting down in our seats, I realized this might very well be the best $48.00 I will ever spend.

Running in the rain reminds me of being seven, and being allowed to jump in every puddle in sight with no thought as to how it’s going to wreck your hair, or your face, or whatever you might happen to be wearing. Running in the rain is CHILDLIKE FREEDOM, personified. It’s also sometimes cold, which is why I wear I wear a (bright pink) hat (for visibility! and) to keep my head warm. Also, fingerless gloves, which are (so old and gnarly, but still) my favorite of all outerwear accessories.

On a related note, I need to find some waterproof running pants. I’m thinking something like this:

Or perhaps some always attractive waders would do the trick:

Running-related aside to my aside: I promise this isn’t turning into a (gasp!) running blog; I’m just a tad consumed (see also: motivated) right now, and I’m running with it. (Ha! That was completely unintentional but oh, how I love puns. In March, remind me to tell you my favorite St. Patrick’s Day joke. No, really. It’s awesome. Chris LOVES IT when I tell that joke.)

This is the training program I’m starting with, courtesy of babycarrot sister and Runner’s World (dot com). The program seems simple and sound, and, as a bonus, the quotes from Nietzsche, Faulkner and T.S. Eliot appeal to the ever prevalent English nerd in me.

I start tomorrow morning.

Not that I even have to say it aloud, because I’m fairly certain our entire country, and quite possibly the entire world, is pulsing with the excitement that we have a new president and that president is Barack Obama. I feel like shouting it from the rooftops doesn’t do this election enough justice.

There were some less good things about last night, a few ballot measures that passed–most notably Proposition 8, but others, too–and I will admit that makes me sad and disappointed in our country’s seeming progress toward civil rights, FOR EVERYONE. We surely do have miles to go before we sleep.

Ultimately, though, I really do find this day and our new president remarkable, and the giddy smile plastered on my face? Look for it to be there for quite some time.

Originally uploaded by Hankins.

Good Thing Two:

On Monday and Tuesday of this week I started perusing recaps from the recent ING New York Marathon and was almost immediately crying after reading the story of an Oregonian and Olympian, who chose the race on November 2nd as her marathon debut. She took third and ran one of the fastest times in the marathon’s history.

Ryan Reynolds ran, too, for the Michael J. Fox Foundation to benefit Parkinson’s, a disease with which his own father struggles, and talked about how actually seeing Michael J. Fox (be still my heart) on 5th avenue helped propel him to the finish line. He finished in just under four hours, which is awesome not only because my little sister finished her marathon faster than this body:

But because he, a self-proclaimed non-runner, FINISHED, and that is fantastic in and of itself.

In fact, thousands upon thousands of runners finished, and I don’t mean to suggest for a moment that one finisher is more important than another, because, well, I just don’t believe that. I do verily believe they are all some of the most inspiring and pavement-pounding of all champions. I just couldn’t miss the seemingly only opportunity I will ever have to post a picture of Ryan Reynold’s abs on my website without it seeming 100% gratuitous.

Because right now it only seems about 80% gratuitous.

After reading a few articles from various news sources, I started searching Flickr for images of the race and the runners, and these were three of my favorites:

Originally uploaded by Barry Yanowitz

Paula Radcliffe in the front, who would go on to win the marathon.

Originally uploaded by HVMedic538

Originally uploaded by the_junes

Good Thing Three:

While spelled in 7th grade cell phone texting style (or the way your mom writes emails), this! is nearly the exact verbage on my sister’s favorite sign she saw while running the Portland Marathon in early October of this year.

Good Thing I May Be Crazy:

I have two new goals. Real, hard, ginormously super-sized goals, for me. Goals that are going to take so much work I would be shaking in my sneakers were I not so excited. Goals I’m announcing here because I’m going to need all the help and support, all the accountability and questions you can muster. Goals I’m announcing here a full two months before yearly resolutions begin to bubble forth from the ambitious insides of friends and family, because I really am going to need the head-start.

The first goal is to attempt (and finish!) a half marathon on Nov. 29th, 2009 in Seattle.

The second is to finish a full marathon on Oct. 3rd, 2010 in Portland. Hopefully with my amazing and inspiring little sister running beside me.

I know people will doubt me, think I won’t be fully committed, or that I might not even be able to do it at all. I hear those comments in my own head on a daily basis and I’m going to imagine they are lining every piece of pavement underneath my feet until I finish those races.

• Writing off-site for 30 days consecutively; what a novel idea! (No pun intended. Well, maybe slightly.)

• While I won’t be participating in the Nablopomo festivities on this site per se, I will be posting here regularly.

• Posting 30 days’ worth of pictures of shoes currently in my closet.

• Gearing up for 30 days of commenting on all of your Nablopomo posts, because (I like commenting! and) I feel like doing my part to battle the statistic that overall readership plummets throughout the blogosphere when myriad people start posting daily.

• Getting out of the apartment and doing something for myself every weekend, something challenging, something unique, something FUN and hopefully OUTSIDE. Perhaps I’ll start a weekly feature where I tell you what said unique and challenging (and hopefully outside) something was every Monday.

• Making lists about what I’m doing this month, apparently, for record-keeping and posterity’s sake.

• Taking pictures of Iggy in t-shirts, because I’m starting to think there might not be anything quite as entertaining:

(Title courtesty of Shaun of the Dead, one of the best of all Zombie movies, and the movie we watched last night with Meggan & Daniel as the more hilarious part of our Halloween festivities.)

Our Tree* on Thursday of last week:

Our Tree today:

Our Tree on November 1st:

Bon Halloween! weekend, everyone.

* The Maple tree outside our living room window, where both of our desks sit. I call it Our Tree, because, well, it sort of is. Ours and everyone else’s on the block.

Good Thing One: Dear Old Love. For all the unrequited love letters you always meant to send.

Here are four of my favorites from the site:

Facebook Faceoff

Lament

Provider

Hello Darkness My Old Friend

(Thanks! be to Abigail for my newest online addiction.)

Good Thing, Two: Mom, this is the friend I told you about (Print)

Good Thing, Three: My Super Hopeless Romance. Now with less hopelessness!

(I highly recommend starting at the beginning, just as she does, and just because the author recently admitted her real name isn’t “Cordy” and the events depicted on the site aren’t “real” as perhaps many readers imagined them, for any young girl who’s ever been in silly “hopeless” love, this site will really resonate.)

Good Thing, Harry Potter Analogy: Voting Guide

Happy! Thursday, all.

                do you know how hard this is for me?
                do you know what you’re asking?

what I can promise to be is water,

water plain and direct as Niagra.

unsparing of myself, unsparing of

the cliff i batter, but also unsparing

of you, tourist. the question for me is

how long can i cling to this edge?

the question for you is

what have you ever traveled toward

more than your own safety?

-Lucille Clifton, from the book of light

my dream about God

He is wearing my grandfather’s hat.
He is taller than my last uncle.
when He sits to listen
He leans forward tilting the chair

where His chin cups in my father’s hand.
it is swollen and hard from creation.
His fingers drum on His knee
dads stern tattoo.

and who do I dream i am
accepting His attentions?

i am the good daughter who stays at home
singing and sewing.
when i whisper He strains to hear me and
He does whatever I say.

-Lucille Clifton, from next

my dream about the poet

a man.
i think it is a man.
sits down with wood.
i think he’s holding wood.
he carves.
he is making a world
he says
as his fingers cut citizens
trees and things
which he perceives to be a world
but someone says that is
only a poem.
he laughs.
i think he is laughing.

-Lucille Clifton, from next

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