A little background. There's a gingerbread house contest at work. And while I'm not usually one to participate in cheesy little contests like this on a regular basis, I allowed T to convince me that it would be fun.
So, rather than making a typical gingerbread house, we hashed out a few different ideas. The Chrysler Building, a Frank Lloyd Wright house, and Malibu Barbie's Dream House were all discussed, as was a scale model of the building we're currently in the process of remodelling. In the end, we gave in to our testosterone fueled imaginations and decided to build a gingerbread Hummer. So far, I've built the body and T has fashioned tires from ropes of black licorice. It's coming together quite well, I must say. Stay tuned next week as I attempt to make plate glass for the windshield out of caramelized sugar.
We're such dorks!
After a quick dinner of pizza and beer, we headed over to the Media Club to soak in the folk-pop jangle of Jeremy Fisher in concert.
At various points throughout the evening, I was singing along and toe-tapping and lap-drumming like a kid in need of ritalin. Honestly, how could one not love a skinny afro-ed white kid singing his heart out with just a guitar and a harmonica (and the recent addition of a three-man band) to back him up? The only disappointment of the evening was finally making it to the back of the club to see if I could pick up a copy of his 2002 debut album, Back Porch Spirituals, only to find that they had all been sold. If I wasn't a saner person, I'd hop on the next flight to Alberta, follow the tour and pick up a copy of his first CD.
I'll try my luck online first.
Singing on the Sidewalk :: Jeremy Fisher
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