Today Travalon and I wore tropical clothes to Mass because right after we got done recycling the plastic, we were going to a luau at the East Side Club. However, when we got there, only a handful of other people were sitting around inside, and a few more were out in the hazardous air. The food was pretty good: pulled pork sandwiches, macaroni and cheese, baked beans, and coleslaw. The place was sort of decorated - I feel like this janky parrot kind of sums it up.
Travalon took those with his good camera. Then we went to Windsor, and he said it was the same cars he saw there last week. I think the one with the pink graffiti is something he took a photo of in Portage a few weeks ago. The first two I took with my phone, and the others he took with his good camera.
Then we spotted some more train cars just a few blocks away. Here are photos I took:
And here are Travalon's photos of the same graffiti, and some other ones he could take photos of with the zoom on his camera.
When I said I could title this blog post "The Lamest Luau," Travalon said I should call it "Proxy Puck and the Lamest Luau" after the graffiti we saw. Then we went back to the East Side Club, and there were a lot more people there in Hawaiian outfits, so maybe more people came to the luau in the second hour. One woman had a truly amazing outfit where she had put a hula skirt and bra over a white sundress and then had leis in her hair and around her ankles, but I thought it would be rude to take a photo of her. Here are what Travalon and I wore - I love his Hawaiian shirt from St. Thomas! See if you can spot the great blue heron behind us and to the right.
We sat in the shade, listening to the steel drum band (which includes both my Brazilian drumming teachers), and it was so wonderful that we felt a little sad that we had to leave after about an hour. But Travalon was going to see AC/DC at Camp Randall tonight, so he had to find a place to park. I suppose I could have gotten my car and come back to the East Side Club, but sitting alone with my N95 mask on (since the air quality was bad again today) didn't seem that appealing. I could have gone to the Slow Irish Session, but oddly that didn't appeal to me either. Since the usual place where we have band practice is right near Camp Randall, Hardingfele offered to host, but she has like four cats and I'm very allergic, so we would have had to practice outside in the bad air. Also, I've had a sore throat all day and am still not sure if I'm fighting a virus, and Hardingfele is very paranoid about viruses. I texted her to let her know I wasn't coming, then I regretted it, thinking about how pleasant it might have been to play the mandolin in her backyard. However, it probably wouldn't have been that good for my antique mandolin to be out in this smoky air, and if I wasn't there, then they could practice inside. I put my mask back on, since I'd felt better outside listening to the steel drum band, and I took a rosary walk and then sat on the dock. It's a mystery about what's making me feel worse - the stale air inside our pent-up condo, or the smoke outside? Or is it truly a virus? That would explain my lack of interest in making music, when usually I live for it. I've just felt blah lately and have only averaged about 6500 steps a day for the last few days, but at least today I got about 9200. Maybe I should have gone for my usual 10,000, but maybe I shouldn't push it. I'm working my way back up to normal.
Famous Hat
