Total Eclipse of the Husband

99.5% is not the same as total.

I learned that . . . from my engineer husband, Dan, who has been nerding out over the total solar eclipse for the past several months.

"It is literally the difference between night and day," he told me after listening to his Science Friday podcast.

"Or the difference between lightning bugs and lightning."

"That's a stupid analogy," I said. "I lived in the Midwest. Lightning bugs are just as awesome as lightning."

Boiseans experienced 99.5% of the eclipse, but several surrounding towns were in the line of totality, meaning you could view the full eclipse just twenty minutes to an hour away.

However, LOTS of people were predicted to descend upon those tiny, rural areas, and my husband, like many engineers, is an introvert who #HatesHumanInteraction.

Dan was stoked about the solar eclipse. He had been purchasing eclipse glasses for months. We had, like, twenty pairs, only two of which were approved.

Everyday leading up to the eclipse, he tried his special glasses on and looked at the sun. He would try them on in the bathroom and look at the florescent lights to make sure they were blocking out the lesser brightness correctly.

One afternoon, he came back into the house rubbing his eyes.

"I think I accidentally looked at the sun."

Then he saw on Facebook that Neil deGrasse Tyson was in Boise the night before the eclipse and sh%$ got real.

Dan spent much of the lead up to his eclipse celebration on his phone checking out traffic maps and the line of totality. He couldn't decide where to go. One day, he was definitely staying in Boise. The next day, he was going to drive to Rigby and stay at his parents' house. Then, he was going to Oregon or maybe Idaho City.

"I can just ride my bike to Emmett and bypass all the traffic."

"No," I said. "You're not riding your bike to Emmett."

He worried about visibility the night before and kept me updated each hour on how quickly the clouds were moving out of the valley.

Finally, late Saturday night, Dan found a camping spot for $35 online. He packed up our SUV and headed to Horseshoe Bend the next evening to sleep in his car on some farmer's land off the highway.

"Have fun!" I said as he drove away. "I hope this guy's not a serial killer!"

In case you were wondering, the farmer wasn't a serial killer, and Dan arrived safely. He did get some pretty cool photos on Monday, but he also had time to revel in the experience as his fellow scientists in the media had advised.

Traffic back from the eclipse: Not as bad as Dan thought it might be . . .

What did I do for the 99.5% eclipse in Boise?

I wore my NASA shirt and enjoyed it (a still fairly awe-inspiring event at 99.5%) with my school colleagues.

For the latest blog updates, visit and "like" Rebecca Turner-Duggan.

Summer Concert Extravaganza

I have decided to call this summer, The Summer of Concerts.

During the school year, I avoid concerts because I can't stay awake past nine o'clock September through May. By the time June rolls around, I am ready to rock out, but most of the bands have already toured Idaho or our neighboring states. The rock 'n roll well dries out at the exact time I can start staying up past dark on week nights.

This summer was different. The West was host to several terrific concerts, including at least one of my bucket list bands (more on that later).

My husband, Dan, and I weren't the only ones who noticed this uptick. One of my colleagues was telling me he watched a variety of bands at one of Boise's concert venues all summer long. Another friend traveled all over the western states (and once to British Columbia) to see a plethora of bands, classic (translation: from the nineties) and current.

The following is a brief rundown of my concert-going experience this summer. I could have attended more, but, even though I can stay awake later during the summer, my tolerance for noise, the smell of weed, and people in general remains pretty low.

CONCERT #1

At the beginning of the summer, we saw The Shins and Built to Spill. We attended this concert with my friend who went on that concert rampage I mentioned earlier.

CONCERT #2

For my fortieth birthday, Dan took me to Hurray for the Riff Raff, a favorite band of mine. After their performance, my concert rampage friend convinced us to catch the end of Ron Gallo's set at another venue downtown. The band members from Hurray for the Riff Raff showed up as well, and I felt like a spontaneous (newly middle-aged) party animal.

CONCERT #3

In early July, we saw Thrice, Deftones, and Rise Against in Salt Lake City, Utah. (Dan is the Deftones fan, not me.) Frank Iero and the Patience opened for them. Frank Iero was the guitarist for My Chemical Romance.

 

CONCERT #4

This next concert actually came to Boise, but we were out of town, so we caught the tour during our vacation in Washington at the Chateau St. Michelle Winery.

This female power concert included Garbage (I'm pretty sure Dan has a crush on Shirley Manson) and Blondie (I'm pretty sure my dad has a crush on Debbie Harry). John Doe and Exene Cervenka from the punk band X opened the concert.

My forty-year-old self loved that fifty-year-old Shirley Manson talked about being starstruck touring with Blondie and X. Garbage, fifty-year-old front woman and all, was the young, up-and-coming band during that tour.

CONCERT #5

Then I went to Green Day (my bucket list band).

How do I explain the significance of this to you all? Or maybe several of my fellow Gen-Xers already understand.

Once upon a time, I was a junior in high school, and I was in a parking lot in the middle of the night, dancing in the headlights of a van with the girls from my choir. We had strange, innocent rituals to initiate new members into our music ensemble—no alcohol or humiliating hazing involved.

And this song came on over the stereo system.

It stopped me dead in my tracks.

"WHO IS THIS?!"

It was "Basket Case" by Green Day. My nineties musical fate was sealed.

Years later, my mom fell in love with the song "Good Riddance," which she initially thought was sung by Rod Stewart. She still insisted Billie Joe sounded like Rod Stewart whenever it came on the radio. For those of you wondering, Green Day sounds nothing like Rod Stewart.

At the Green Day concert, there were lots of people my age with kids in tow. One dad sat next to us, wearing a Kerplunk shirt. His preteen son wore a Revolution Radio shirt. This was the perfect metaphor. Green Day spanned the generations.

On the other hand, I never thought I'd see the day when a Green Day concert would be a family show.

"I hope he gets political," Dan said.

Dan had wanted the lead singer of Rise Against to be more outspoken when we saw them in early July. He thought they may have held back a bit. It was Salt Lake City after all.

Now we were back in Utah, and Dan wanted Billie Joe Armstrong to go OFF, especially since we were on the brink of nuclear war with North Korea.

Dan was not disappointed.

"Yeah," he answered when I asked him if Green Day was political enough, "it was awesome."

During the second encore, Green Day finished with "Good Riddance," and it started to rain.

Huh. Maybe my mom was there, listening to Rod Stewart sing her favorite song.

The Punk Rock Princess (Dan's name for me, not my idea)

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When the Cat's Away . . . (RE-POST FROM 7/18/15)

Dan was out of town again this weekend, but since it is close to the beginning of the school year, I didn't have as much time for as much recreation. Mostly, I binge-watched Netflix while working on paperwork for school. Enjoy this re-post from two years ago!

Last weekend, my husband, Dan, went out of town for the weekend. A normal person probably would have organized a girls' night out or would have relished the chance to reconnect with friends other than his/her spouse. But I didn't because I don't often get the weekend to myself.

Dan and I are awesome because we have our own lives. We don't mind doing some activities solo . . . occasionally.

After eleven years of marriage, I don't even get an "I've arrived" text when he travels anymore. In other words, last weekend, I wasn't sure whether or not he was alive or dead. But I still filled my couple of days with fun alone activities.

One afternoon, I read a book for a couple of hours in a coffee shop. Then I treated myself to the new Amy Winehouse documentary that evening.

This is just the type of film about which Dan would say, "I wanted to see that one too!" But then he would never take me to it, not with Terminator Genisys or Mad Max: Fury Road on the big screen.

The next morning, I hiked in the Boise Foothills all by myself. I highlighted a route on a trail system map, and I actually followed it instead of panicking, taking a wrong turn, and getting lost. I packed up water, snacks, a first aid kit and willed myself not to see any cougars or rattlesnakes or crazy people. (I forgot to pack my pepper spray. That won't happen again, by the way, crazies who are reading my blog.)

However, when my husband's out of town, and I try to sleep, I imagine my house is turning into episode of Penny Dreadful, even though I spent almost a decade sleeping on my own in various apartments and dorm rooms.

I finally received a text from him before he returned to Boise. He wanted to know if I had already listened to a podcast or if he should wait for me so we could listen to it together, and that's how I found out he was still alive.

Of course, I don't want Dan to stay away too long. Last Saturday, I pulled into the driveway after a trip to the Farmers Market and sighed at the length of the grass in our front yard.

"Thank goodness Dan comes home tonight," I thought to myself. Or maybe I said it out loud. I talk to myself a lot when Dan is not around. "I don't feel like mowing the lawn."

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Stuff I Did in Washington

My husband, Dan, and I recently returned home from a trip to Washington. We visited Eastsound on Orcas Island and Leavenworth, each for a few days.

We started our trip by driving to Anacortes, about nine hours one-way. We set a firm AIS time ("Ass In Seat," which we shamelessly stole from an episode of Everybody Loves Raymond), and we moved it back a half-hour the next morning when we didn't quite make it.

"AIS" Time: About a half-hour later than we hoped

EASTSOUND, ORCAS ISLAND

We couldn't check in right away after our seven o'clock ferry ride to the San Juan Islands. We ended up in a bookstore for part of the morning where I bought a journal, intending to record our vacation for the next two weeks. I mostly just wrote about the food we ate.

We also checked out the island, including the famous Mount Constitution at Moran State Park. By the time checked in to our condo, the woman at the front desk was impressed that we had already done so much.

Never a lazy moment. That’s how we roll.

Our first night on the island, we ate dinner at a restaurant where the menu stated, "The state of Washington says we have to warn you that eating food in its natural state could kill you." We found less frightening places to eat later on that week.

One evening, we watched a live bluegrass concert in the park and saw a cat on a leash. The locals seemed to know the woman walking her cat and seemed to fully expect her cat to be on a leash.

By the way, a cat on a leash works about as well as one would think.

The next morning, we walked across a land bridge that is only visible during low tide for approximately forty days every year. The land bridge led to another smaller island right across the beach outside our condo.

"Ugh!" I said. "I don't want to get my shoes that wet! I'll just wait for you here."

Dan makes it to the island.

Eventually, the bridge started to reveal itself, and I ventured out, noticing that my shoes were drying out quicker than expected.

"You don’t get to have fun without me!" I said to Dan as I surprised him and stepped onto the island.

We also went whale watching, one of those you-didn't-experience-Orcas-Island-if-you-didn't-do-this activities.

Humpback Whale tail

We spent a couple of days hiking on the island at Moran and Obstruction Pass State Park and at the Turtleback Mountain Preserve.

During our hikes, every time I maneuvered a somewhat tricky rock or hill, I said "I American Ninja Warriored that." (I have been watching a lot of American Ninja Warrior this summer. I know it's been on umpteen million seasons, and I'm late to the party. But I've had a lot of General Hospital to watch over the years.)

Fun fact: On Orcas Island, the signs at the camping and hiking trailheads warned you the biggest dangers to your food were crows, deer, and raccoons, no mention of bears, cougars, or snakes. We were definitely NOT in Idaho anymore.

LEAVENWORTH

However, there were bears in Leavenworth.

Last week, I wrote about mountain biking in Leavenworth, so I won't go into my almost met a bear story again.

We had visited Leavenworth a few times in the past and had driven by Dan's Market but never actually shopped there. This time, we stopped and ordered custom sandwiches.

At the Leavenworth bookstore, I bought Carrie Brownstein’s memoir, Hunger Makes Me a Modern Girl, and a children's book for my classroom about a songbird who had to find his special song to sing. I found Dan in the Sci-fi/Fantasy section and showed him my selections.

He looked at my face then at the children's book, "Did you cry?"

"A little . . . "

I found this in another store and, not sure if it was allowed, surreptitiously took a picture while Dan stood guard. Then I texted it to my brother and sister-in-law.

We wrapped up our final night of vacation watching . . . what else? American Ninja Warrior!

For the latest blog updates, visit and "like" Rebecca Turner-Duggan.