I have some more shots lingering around on my computer from that photo shoot we did of the band the other week. This is very convenient, because as it happens, today I don’t feel like talking:
a) I feel like reading my mystery book instead (more on that soon)
b) It’s Friday, the official My Mind is a Blank Day.
c) I feel like spending my break at work going to Starbucks. Of course, this isn’t a legitimate excuse since a solid percentage of my workday tends to be quite free-flowing (yes, I often have a lighter-than-light workload)–but I thought Starbucks sounded like a very credible scapegoat for my lax behavior.
I love taking pictures of Carrie–she’s just so dang photogenic. That reminds me of another photogenic blond one that I happen to know.
I’m getting the sense that I should strongly consider going blond.
Then again, the girl component of our band can’t be too matchy-matchy. I guess we should keep one brunette in the picture.
Which brings me to the age-old question: what is the masculine of brunette?
I’m thinking brunetto. Brunettino. Bruntonet.
Eric, which of those adjectives would you prefer for me to associate with you forever?
And no, I don’t approve of smoking. Many years ago, in a kingdom far, far away, I was sorely tempted to take a drag on a certain starry night in Paris . . . but I didn’t.
Wasn’t that a fascinating story?
Hello, little lovebirds.
And finally, some pictures of the band in action.
Yep. There we are tuning up and starting our sound check.
We happened to be running through Scarecrow, one of our brand-new numbers, as part of the soundcheck . . . Eric is going hog wild on that harmonica. I wish this picture were a scratch-and-listen.
This next picture is Carrie doing a jazz number. Oh yeah.
You rock those classics, Carrie. And I love that noble look on Eric’s face.
The End! Have a great weekend, my peeps.