Liz Wells: Certified Gunslinger

Yesterday some friends and I went to the Fraternal Order of Police Shooting range in Pleasant Grove to try out some guns. As we turned off the main road on to the country back road leading to the range, we only had to drive about 100 feet before we came across a confederate flag and a “Happy B-day Gen. Lee” sign. Sheesh. This was not going to be a good experience, I thought to myself…

We pull up in Leigh’s VW Rabbit, Wilco blaring, and as soon as the keys left the ignition we hear the piercing crack of someone shooting a sniper rifle just across the way. By this time I’m getting pretty nervous. We go in the main office and sign waivers and pay (I love how on the waiver it asks: Hospital Preference? To which I replied in all caps NEAREST).

We get our targets set up and my friend David hands me a Ruger .22, semi-automatic. I fired a couple rounds and it was no big deal. Next up, the .38 revolver. I fired once, got really nervous and had to put it down. A minute later I picked it back up and fired off another 5 shots. Then the .40 and the .45. I fired each of these one time and went back to the .38. Just too much kick for this girl. By this time I had gotten pretty comfortable and I set up a new target. Check out the mad skills:

I ended up having a really great time. No scary redneck gawkers, and no random bullets grazing my temple at 500 miles an hour. It’s kind of like going to the batting cages, you get in a good rhythm and its really fun. BTM says I still need to try out a 9mm, which I will at some point I’m sure, but for now, I think I’m a .38 revolver girl. No bullshit, just good ole straightforward shooting – just like me.

Got my 9 strapped to my thigh...

Wednesday marked the 2 week anniversary of our residence in the beautiful city of Avondale. I'm chilling out with Clint last night on the couch, we're watching the evening news via bunny ears and something caught my attention:

"Police are investing a possible homicide that occurred yesterday evening on 4th Ave South in Avondale. A woman knocked on the door of 4100 block home and then collapsed. She was pronounced dead at the scene."

In case you didn't know: that is our street, and about 3 blocks away.

Joy.

So if that's not enough, my neighbor tells me two days ago that a friend of the people who rent the house across the street got held up at gunpoint. The offenders made the guy drive to the nearest ATM and empty his bank account and then dumped him off in a field near the airport.

Again, joy.

On a completely unrelated note, I've been talking to a lot of people about what kind of gun I should buy to keep in my bedside table when Clint goes on extended tours. Thoughts?

Oh how I love plants....

I want all these plants in my yard. Now.


Crape Myrtles

Juniper

Italian Cypress

Japanese Maple

Oak Leaf Hydrangea


Hosta

Nikko Blue Hydrangea

Japanese Magnolia

Boreal Orbit

Glassy white slips into light
Dips into a cold blue night
Swims round and round 'til sunken in
Swallowed up in blackest rim
Tucks into recesses safe
Where from this mind at ease will race
Upward cross a northern face
This cliff is strong and holds its place
A solid arch to upward border
Tapers thin into a corner
Spiral tresses trimming long
Into silver rings dissolve

Ryan Adams

If you’re curious what precipitated Clint’s diatribe on those unforgiving souls who did not enjoy Ryan Adams temperamental performance last night, let me just clear the air: it was me, ok?

Everything was going great. There was no opener, Ryan Adams and the Cardinals just came out on stage and opened with Bartering Lines. It was fantastic, even though I’m not really familiar with Heartbreaker, it was a great performance. Mockingbird: fantastic. I can’t remember whether he did Tears of Gold next or not, but it was ok… he was mostly just tuning his guitar during this one and it was a little boring. Then Cold Roses: amazing. The harmonies he did with his lead guitarist, bass player, and pedal steel player were amazing. I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. Then comes Peaceful Valley. I LOVE Peaceful Valley. “Can I still smoke cigarettes, and drink my coffee when I get to heaven with a bottle of wine. Cause all my life I’ve longed for forgiveness, but I can never seem to get enough.” And then, like it’s nobody’s business, they all just go into this jam session…..

Waiting…….

Waiting………

Waiting…………

I look around and NO ONE is digging it. As a matter of fact, all the whooping and hollering that had been going on stopped. After a painstakingly long time, the song finally ended. Pissed, I leaned over to Clint and said, “What a self-indulgent prick”.

End of good time watching Ryan Adams.

I understand that when you go to a concert, there is the idea that you’re going to see an artist perform and not some kind of talking jukebox. I get that. However, I think there’s some kind of delicate balance line between fans and artists. Like, it’s understood that you don’t throw full container’s worth of beer onto the guitar player’s pedal board because you’re not getting to hear the song you want to hear (ie. Ryan Adams at the Rhyman in Nashville last year). It is also true, that the songs we fall in love with are subject to a vibe’s interpretation. Goodnight Rose had a much more rock feel to it last night than it does on the record. There was some playful banter between the musicians that really livened it up. I dig that. What I don’t dig is paying $96 (for two tickets) to see a prolific artist who has written so many amazing songs with unbelievable lyrics, sit and waste my time jamming on a fucking guitar like he’s the only one in the room. If I really wanted to spend money watching some asshole wank on his guitar, I’d go see John Mayer.

Also- as always at a Ryan Adams concert- he flipped out about people yelling out song requests and ended the concert early. I get that that’s probably a pretty frustrating thing for an artist, especially one with so many great songs. You’ve got to make a judgment call for your setlist. I remember going to see Hem at Workplay and some asshole right up front kept requesting the same song during every lull until finally Sally Ellyson was like, “Um, security?”, but going to see a pregnant folk singer at Workplay begs for a different set of manners than seeing Ryan Adams at the Alabama Theater. So one of your fans connected to a song you wrote and wants to hear it. Grow some thicker skin and get the fuck over it. Don’t cheat the rest of the people who paid good money to hear you play because you can’t deal with some obnoxious guy in the crowd.

Ugh, ok. End of rant

Fabulous songs from the rest of the concert:

I See Monsters
Nightbirds
Rescue Blues
I Taught Myself How to Grow