Jorge. Close the backstage door. The audience is freezing.

So last night I went to a show with two of my friends at the Tractor Tavern. Apparently, it is a room in Ballard with boots hanging from the ceiling and uh, a stage, and some chairs and square dancing on the 2nd and 4th Mondays (FHE in a bar anyone?). Last night a guy from Vancouver named Steve Reynolds that looked 25 and was maybe currently taking too many over-the-counters but was actually in his 40s and just sleep deprived (according to the monologue) played some nice music on his guitar. The best part was his percussionist from Guadalajara (Jorge) that didn't appear to have more than just a high hat and a snare but was doing a great job. Part two was what Esther wanted to see and that is Tom McRae. He's from the UK so that won Charity and I over to his witty banter but even though I had a good time, it was a way way way too late for me to be out on a school night. What kept me awake was that Jorge, who was at the top of the list, left the backstage door open to the elements and I was subsequently freeeeeeezing. When I got home, I tucked into bed but after about twenty minutes, still cold, I had to get up grab out my electric blanket, a comforter, and two more blankets to pile on my bed . . . and an extra pair of pajama pants . . . and a hoodie. Muchas gracias George. Good times all around. I should probably be reading for my thesis writing but the beer hour for the Hutch is going on just outside so it's really noisy. Maybe I'll just head home since the library at UW is also closed. Huh.