Princess of Thieves

Inspirational song: Psychobilly Freakout (Reverend Horton Heat)

My feet were numb. I was standing in a large crowd (well, in a full modestly-sized live venue that felt like general admission tickets were oversold) and I was watching the clock. It was already 10:30 and the second opening act had yet to show up. The first opener was on for almost a full hour, and as far as we knew, there was a midnight noise curfew in Boulder. I didn't know whether Jello Biafra was going to actually play with Reverend Horton Heat at this point, or have his own set. If he had his own, the Rev would have gotten two maybe three songs before they shut him down. But then, just as I started drafting out tonight's post on my phone, a cheer went up in the crowd. I looked up to see a dude off on stage right, wearing a funky black and white Western suit. Hardcore rockabilly music emanated from the stage, and the main event had begun. They played three or four songs, and then Jello came out and sang a combination of his own songs, primarily from his Dead Kennedys years (like Holiday in Cambodia), and cover songs that were interesting choices. Together they played House of the Rising Sun, Folsom Prison Blues, the Ace of Spades, and Viva Las Vegas. Alone, Reverend Horton Heat hit several of my favorites (like the Jimbo Song, Galaxy 500, and Bales of Cocaine), some that I liked but didn't know well (Zombie Dumb, Eat Steak, and Smell of Gasoline), but not a few that I expected (no Martini Time or Crooked Cigarette). By the end, my feet had gone way past numb, and my whole body was sore. I really didn't care. It was the rowdiest night I've had in years, and it will be worth every ache and pain tomorrow. I felt 20 years old again, and I loved it.

We had a fantastic day up to that point as well. My girl has been a huge fan of archery since she was at the Camp Goddard, where all the 6th graders who have ever cycled through my hometown have gone. Her camp nickname was Robin Hood. (A little tangent: for the concert I was standing in the exact spot where I sat to watch Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves for the first time, her favorite movie when she was in grade school.) She took us to an archery range this afternoon, where we were able to rent equipment and relearn a skill that her father and I have not practiced in many years. For me, honestly, I don't think I have pulled a real bow since I was in camp myself, probably the gifted and talented camp I went to in 8th grade. My first few shots were terrible! I was happy just to hit the portable ... uh... they call it a butt, right? ... that the target was pinned to. By the end of the three hours we shot, I was creeping ever closer to a bulls eye. I was consistently making at least two out of every three shots in the red ring, sometimes the edge of the yellow center. I had a funny feeling that once I picked up a bow again as an adult, I would love doing this, and it was absolutely correct. I'm hooked. I know I'll be able to convince other people to go with me to do this again. I already have a commitment to go down there sometime from my foster daughter, who even owns her own hunting bow. I will enjoy getting to do target practice with a weapon that doesn't require ear protection or single-use projectiles that get expensive after a while. I'm so happy my daughter picked this activity!