Burnt Like a Strawberry

Saturday morning, we drove across town so my husband could stand on the back of a flatbed trailer in the middle of a field under the blazing noon day sun and sing for no money. He's a musician, and more often than not the love of performing is more important than making money at it. Not for the drummer, though. He didn't come. And the frontman was sick. Still, they sounded very good. John and Joe (far left and far right) had already been on the back of the truck for the previous hour playing with the Squalor Hollow Boyz. I kicked myself for not bringing the video camera, because it was a beautiful, although windy, day. And my skin got fried. Should have brought sunblock, too. I'm just not thinking in terms of summer yet.

Meanwhile, the night before, my son was on assignment for Style Weekly, photographing Avail's surprise appearance with Lucero at Nanci Raygun's. The torch passes. Ten years ago, I was photographing bands at that same club (when it was Twisters), but for the Music Journal.