Thursday, Feb. 25-Sunday, Feb. 28.

On Thursday morning, after staying in the crappiest motel we’ve encountered thus far, we stopped at a gas station to pick up some milk. As we were sitting in the van, enjoying our granola and orange juice breakfast, we noticed a little dog running along the highway, about to enter four lanes of traffic. Nic handed his bowl of granola to Heather and leapt into action. We were able to lure the little dog out of traffic, and then left him with the gas station attendants, hoping he would find his way back home!

As we proceeded toward Jackson, our friend Gillian reminded us of the Johnny Cash and June Carter cover: “I’m going to Jackson…” We weren’t sure what to expect, but Jackson was a surprisingly magical city. There seems to be a group of people there who are committed to making Jackson awesome. They are promoters of community, music, art, and bikes. One of those people is Lizzie Wright, and we were lucky enough to play an amazing show/birthday party at her house. The place was packed, and everyone was attentive during our set. It was a great night.

We were interviewed for the Mississippi Happening podcast as well. You can find that podcast and some video footage of the show here.

From there, we made a couple stops in Texas. Friday night we played at the Fuel Cyber Café in Humble (near Houston), and then Saturday we drove on to Austin. If you’re ever in Austin, we highly recommend Torchy’s “Home of Damn Good Tacos.” We especially enjoyed the Dirty Sanchez, which included scrambled egg, guacamole, fried poblano chili, and pickled carrots. Yum!

We played an awesome show that night in the backyard at the Annie Street Arts Collective. There was a stage made of scrap wood and Christmas lights hung in the trees above the stage. Chairs lined the yard, with a fire off to one side. Dana Falconberry opened the show, and Annie Street residents Some Say Leland closed out the night.

Sunday held a dreaded drive—1,027 miles from Austin, TX, to Urbana, IL. We stopped near Waco to get gas and kolaches at a place called Czech Stop. Hours later, another break found us at Tops Bar-B-Q in Memphis with some college friends. We made it home safely, feeling exhausted and unprepared for the return to our day jobs.

Thanks for following our journeys. We’re currently learning some new songs and will hit the road again at the end of March!

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Wednesday, Oct. 14; Santa Fe, NM. After camping in the van somewhere in Arizona, we completed the drive to Brian’s house. Brian is a guy we met about two and a half years ago in Tucson when our former band Casados played with his band D Numbers. This time around, he was kind enough to hook us up with a house show in Santa Fe. The fall fiesta included a variety of amazing foods, with Brian’s soup being our favorite (ingredients: carrots, squash, sweet potatoes, apples, etc.). Yum!

I think this Santa Fe show may have been the first time we’ve had people laugh out loud during our set. As we played in the living room, the crowd was listening closely, processing the lyrical content, and then chuckling at the poignancy. It was pretty awesome. And based on the people we met, Santa Fe seems like a cool city.

Found at a rest stop somewhere between Santa Fe & Norman, OK

Thursday, Oct. 15; Norman, OK. Universe City, where we played in Norman, is a huge house that used to be a fraternity dwelling but is now being fixed up and used as a community art space. There are also 14 bedrooms upstairs, with 12 people currently living there. Much to our surprise, the paparazzi showed up in Norman. Who would have guessed? A guy named Adam asked if it was ok for him to take some pictures of us. We said yes, assuming he would take a few shots during the show. No big deal.

As we turned around to pull some equipment out of the van, the flashes began. Two cameras were flashing frantically during our set, and we tried not to be distracted by Adam climbing on a speaker behind us, then lying on the floor in front of us. (We love you, Adam.)

We met some interesting folks at the show as well. One guy in the front row was doing yoga stretches throughout our performance. Another guy was leaving the show with a huge wooden cross that he carries everywhere. We tried (unsuccessfully) to get the lowdown on why he carries this cross. He didn’t give us much info; I guess he’s just taking that “carry your cross” thing quite literally.

Friday, Oct. 16; Kansas City, MO. Before we knew it, we were back in the Midwest. The West Bottoms of Kansas City provided perhaps the craziest experience of this tour. We were surrounded by seemingly vacant warehouses as we drove into a shady-lookin’ part of KC.

Sunset in the West Bottoms

The night started off as a downer. Two of the three locals had dropped off the bill last minute, and it was questionable if the show was even going to happen. The original plan was a show at The Pistol—an open space with a stage located on the second floor of an old warehouse. But the promoter, Joe, was suspecting no one would show up (since two of the locals bailed), so he proposed we play at some art show instead. He recommended that we head over to the art show, get some food, and check the place out.

We scrunched into Joe’s Chevy Cavalier, with Nic and Heather both in the passenger seat. (The backseat was occupied by salvaged windows Joe had found in a dumpster earlier that day.) As we passed by a police officer who was directing traffic in the middle of the street, Joe repeated, “Please don’t look at the tags. Please don’t look at the tags. Please don’t ask if I have a license.” We made it by with no hassle, and Joe informed us this was just a “rent-a-cop” anyway (an off-duty officer hired to make visitors feel safe).

Our destination: An abandoned warehouse. We took the freight elevator up a couple flights to learn that this building was actually very full of life. Several floors are occupied by artists, and on this particular evening, the artists had opened their studios to display their work. We explored the building, eating hummus and Doritos, drinking beer or wine, and viewing paintings, photographs, pottery, and so on.

We ended up playing two shows that night. We first played a few songs in an elevator lobby situated between some art studios. Then we played our original show over at The Pistol, which turned out to be pretty great despite the bogus start. The underground art communities of the West Bottoms, where lots of people live and work, were unlike anything we’ve ever experienced before. We do love you, KC.

All our gear crammed into a wheelbarrow; Kansas City, MO

Saturday, Oct. 17; Columbia, MO. The final show of our tour was part of the Bluebird Music and Arts Festival. Darling Disarm, a band from Champaign-Urbana, was playing on the same festival. It was fun to run around Columbia with Mike, Kayla, and James, and we enjoyed seeing Chicago Farmer and Death Ships that evening.

We completed our 8,747.1 mile circle on Sunday (Oct. 18), landing at home in Urbana, IL. We returned feeling at peace with the world. It was a good tour. For the next couple weeks, we’ll be sleeping in our own bed and cooking in our own kitchen. Then, come November, we’ll be off again.

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Check out Heather’s first attempt at pickle-making!

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Zucchini, cucumbers, green beans, oh my! And the tomatoes are finally starting to ripen as well. Check out the color train on our window ledge, soon to be transformed into all sorts of yummy goodness, like pasta sauce, bruschetta, and green gazpacho soup.

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It had been a good day. It was the last official day of school in Urbana, bringing with it 2 ½ or 3 months of freedom. The grey and rainy morning provided a perfect backdrop for drinking coffee and contemplating our fall tour plans. Then the skies cleared in the afternoon, allowing me to transport some food, by bike, from the store to my home.

Nic showed up around 7:30. Soon after, he started cooking while Sadie and I went out to gather some green onions and cilantro for the evening’s Honey Sesame Spaghetti. I looked up from the onions just in time to see Sadie’s head dip into that hole and come up with a ball of grey fur.

Fight or flight?

I dropped my scissors and dashed toward the house, screaming for Sadie to come with me.

Zack, our live-in vegetable farmer, had discovered the warren of baby bunnies a few days before, nestled within an overgrown patch of arugula. We were playing it cool, hoping Sadie wouldn’t notice them. But alas, our fears had come alive. The little bunny squeal brought me back to a time and place 15 or so years before.

My sister and I huddled together in the middle of the trampoline, screaming for help, while our dog Lizzie (a much larger version of Sadie) ate an entire litter of tiny bunnies. I still remember the squeals and the crunching of bones. Traumatizing.

Fifteen years ago, my mom was the brave one who saved the day. Last week, it was Nic.

“Sadie’s killing the bunnies!” I screeched, as Nic ran out the door.

We discovered that our Sadie is not a particularly skilled hunter. (In fact, she’s more often the hunted than the hunter.) And as far as we know, all the bunnies escaped unscathed. They even had the audacity to return to that same hole a few hours later.

At age 27, I’m still unable to reconcile this whole food chain thing. I shed a few tears, sucked in the air and tried to refrain from having a heart attack, and eventually returned for my cilantro.

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