Sunday, August 21, 2005

Feeling unknown and you're all alone, flesh and bone, by the telephone. Pick up the receiver, I'll make you a believer.

Woke up Saturday morning too early, after a very late night. We had stayed up past 2 a.m. watching episode after episode of Arrested Development. I cannot overstate just how funny this show is... We were laughing like mental patients.

I fueled up on caffeine, and went for a fast run. I listened to the Johnny Cash version of "Personal Jesus" on repeat for most of the 50 minute run.

While I was running, India and Mrs. Bells went to the farmer's market together, so when I returned, she was gone. I checked my email and I had a message from a lady who lives near Bristol, in the UK. She somehow stumbled across this website, and is a regular reader! (She wrote to inform me that the Chernobyl site that I linked yesterday isn't everything it appears to be. )

I was a bit amazed that the Duder's cyber-tentacles extend all the way across the pond to Jolly Ol'. Welcome Ms. P, and thank you for reading.

I loaded a couple guitars and some percussion instruments into my car and headed north to Casa Bells for some gardening, music and a baby reunion.

More on the odd circles and coincidences via the internet: I met Nessie, a Bozeman local for ten years, through this blog. Later, he was surfing through my blog with his wife, and they recognize Mr. and Mrs. Bells. Turns out the Bells and the Nessies were in prenatal classes together, and had their babies around the same time. They hadn't seen each other since the classes, and Nessie was surprised to discover that I have known Bells since I was twelve or thirteen.

We all got together at Bells' house on Saturday. I brought my kids, too.

Front and center is Puck, a.k.a. P-Diddy, a.k.a. the Carpet-pissing Chinaman, in back of him is Mrs. Nessie and Baby Nessie. To her left is Bells. Barney is chilling on the floor next to Bells. You can see Mrs. Bells' back and a little bit of Baby Bells.

Mrs. Nessie and her darling daughter.

Nessie himself is very elusive, as you probably know, and is somewhat difficult to photograph. I got this grainy shot through a telephoto lens.

I blew it up to get a better look.

Unfortunately, that was the only shot I got of him. You'll have to trust me that he looks enough like Dave Grohl that I accidentally called him Dave. Dave's not his name.

We had a back porch jam session that had its moments, in particular on "Country Honk," by the Stones.

This is the view from Bells' back porch.

This is some hops that Bells is growing, which he uses for homebrew.

The proverbial good time was had by all.
I just read about Hunter S. Thompson's send-off. It sounded very appropriate.