<p>Too soon to divert barf-story interest, mootmom.</p>
<p>I knew I had reached the ultimate ranks of parenthood when one of my daughters (about 2-3 years old, I guess) starts to vomit when we’re on someone’s super nice rug (or in their car, don’t remember which…probably happened more than once). I had nothing to use to catch the warm and ooey puke so…I caught it in my cupped, bare hands.</p>
<p>If that’s not love, I don’t know what is. To this day, I retain the right to tell this story and embarass my girls if they get a little too smart for their britches. Seems they are getting plenty smart, so may have to pull out all the cute nick-names we had for them… ;)</p>
<p>No, not yet, SpringfieldMom. Because I thought I had nothing to add to the puke lore until p2n tweaked my memory. DS was 2 1/2 when we took a cross-country plane trip without incident. While in the Philadelphia terminal awaiting a plane change, we window-shopped the concourse “shops” with darling DS riding atop DH’s shoulders for a birds-eye view and some fun. Apparently air-sickness was a delayed reaction for the little bugger. DH’s full head of not yet entirely grey hair was the receptacle. Aren’t I happy that this is a second-hand report? I must say, p2n, that you earned more points in the “ultimate ranking” of parenthood competition than DH, as your cupped hands were put into service volunarily. Although I imagine your clean-up job was quite a bit easier than his, so I may have to give DH some bonus credit on that count.</p>
<p>Okay now we’re getting down and dirty here. </p>
<p>Three kids; one barfer. </p>
<p>Littlest S. Every time we’d be in the frickin’ car for a trip of 25+ minutes, that little guy would lose his cookies. (Generally a 25+ minute ride would be an airport trip. Lovely start to every family vacation AND a lovely finish to every family vacation.) All you’d have to do was say “LAX” and Littlest S would begin to get pale.</p>
<p>We learned to travel with tupperware.</p>
<p>Littlest S also got queasy in the Paris Metro (in the station, no motion involved) and decided to politely puke in the corner as we waited for the train to arrive. (Reader, I left the puke exactly where he spewed it, for a guy in blue coveralls to discover. No P2N I!!) </p>
<p>Vision therapy (thanks jym) finally cured him of this extremely annoying trait.</p>
<p>Funniest puke story in our family my youngest brother swirling his first nephew over his head. He got a faceful of it. </p>
<p>But to answer Mootmom’s change of subject - in the same vein we went to see the new Hugh Grant vehicle. It was a perfect little piece of fluff. Really fun. The 1980s video parody was priceless.</p>
<p>I remember my first college concert–James Taylor in 1972 or 73. Exciting days.</p>
<p>Recently Guster was in town, and I really would have gone if my son who also likes them were living at home. I <em>think</em> he would have let me go too. ;)</p>
<p>Ah, concerts concerts concerts, what a nostalgic subject…</p>
<p>I tried oh-so-hard to get my H to go with me to see Of Montreal in concert in Santa Cruz a few weeks ago but had no luck and didn’t want to go alone. Snif. This group is totally trippy and POP and wow… and all my buddies are so “age cohort musically” waaaah… (Nice turn of phrase, Alu, btw.)</p>
<p>My I-was-there concert was the outdoors day-long Grateful Dead, The Band, and The Allman Brothers in 1973. What a loooong strange trip that one was. Oh yeah, and the original Dark Side of the Moon tour when it was a Pink Floyd tour and not just Roger Waters. And I stopped counting the number of times I saw the Mahavishnu Orchestra or Frank Zappa live (living on the east coast wasn’t as conducive to good concert-going as would have been living in the Bay Area, sigh… I was slightly too young for Woodstock, so that one doesn’t count).</p>
<p>I did see the original run of Hair on Broadway, and hugged Pete Seeger onstage once. I guess that’s about it. Oh no wait, my dog Terra sang at Carnegie Hall in 1983! But I think I told you all that before, a couple hundred pages ago…</p>
<p>My first concert was Bruce Springsteen at the Main Point in Ardmore, PA…think it was Summer of '73. That would’ve made me 14. He was incredible.</p>
<p>Alu, I saw Bob Marley’s very last concert-- in Providence RI. </p>
<p>My first concert was a “Day On The Green” at the Oakland Colliseum featuring The Who and The Grateful Dead. Kinda a funky crowd: 50% surfers, 50% on acid. I went with my brother. He’d purchased some mighty fine oregano in honor of the occasion.</p>
<p>We used to go to Lollapolooza back in the day. </p>
<p>There is a physiological reason our music cohorts don’t keep up. From the age of 39 onwards, it is difficult for the brain to accept new tastes, ideas, music etc. Your brain wants to stay stuck on the Moody Blues.</p>
<p>A few weeks ago I decided to stop listening to talk radio altogether. I’m listening to the latest pop/rock now, trying to open up to the latest music. I don’t know what’s popular over there but here it’s “To the left, to the left, to the left…Irreplaceable” and “Tryin’ to make me go to rehab baby, oh no, no, no…” and “This ain’t no scene, It’s a goddamned arms race!” On last one, I thought the lyrics were “This ain’t no city, it’s a goddamned horse race.” The girls at the deli counter straightened me out.</p>
<p>I am finding sort of a sideways path to music that is almost but not quite current (but at least not 70’s music!) I love listening to acapella, and everyonce in awhile I become attached to a newish tune that way. I can’t seem to take it hot and fresh off the radio, though.</p>
<p>Deja vu everyone?? We’ve had this “best concert” discussion before… was it in here or in another thread? I was amazed at the great concerts people had been to. I dunno if audiophile frequents SA, but he’ll remember where we had this conversation, as he is the PRIMO expert on anything musical.</p>
<p>Well, I can bring this concerts-I-have-been-to discussion d-o-w-n.</p>
<p>Can something be soporific and annoying at the same time? Because that would characterize the concert experience which is currently leaping to my mind - Ravi Shankar in Philadelphia, ca. 1966 give or take. (My age cohort doesn’t remember things so well :o). How did I get dragged to that??</p>
<p>I loathe the guy. Doesn’t help his cause that his daughter, Norah Jones, doesn’t like him either. Her I like.</p>