Tag Archives: Thornfield

Band shots

I have some more shots lingering around on my computer from that photo shoot we did of the band the other week. This is very convenient, because as it happens, today I don’t feel like talking:

a) I feel like reading my mystery book instead (more on that soon)

b) It’s Friday, the official My Mind is a Blank Day.

c) I feel like spending my break at work going to Starbucks. Of course, this isn’t a legitimate excuse since a solid percentage of my workday tends to be quite free-flowing (yes, I often have a lighter-than-light workload)–but I thought Starbucks sounded like a very credible scapegoat for my lax behavior.

I love taking pictures of Carrie–she’s just so dang photogenic. That reminds me of another photogenic blond one that I happen to know.

I’m getting the sense that I should strongly consider going blond.

Then again, the girl component of our band can’t be too matchy-matchy. I guess we should keep one brunette in the picture.

Which brings me to the age-old question: what is the masculine of brunette?

I’m thinking brunetto. Brunettino. Bruntonet.

Eric, which of those adjectives would you prefer for me to associate with you forever?

And no, I don’t approve of smoking. Many years ago, in a kingdom far, far away, I was sorely tempted to take a drag on a certain starry night in Paris . . . but I didn’t.

Wasn’t that a fascinating story?

Hello, little lovebirds.

And finally, some pictures of the band in action.

Yep. There we are tuning up and starting our sound check.

We happened to be running through Scarecrow, one of our brand-new numbers, as part of the soundcheck . . . Eric is going hog wild on that harmonica. I wish this picture were a scratch-and-listen.

This next picture is Carrie doing a jazz number. Oh yeah.

You rock those classics, Carrie. And I love that noble look on Eric’s face.

The End! Have a great weekend, my peeps.

Our band manager

Oh, you didn’t know that Thornfield has a band manager?

Well let me introduce her. Her name is Ellie.

Now where could she be . . .

Napping with the equipment, of course.

You guys ready for the show, or what?

Now lemme look over that set list . . .

. . . okay, okay, I see where you’re going putting some of those newer songs up front . . .

She is exactly what you want a band manager to be–aggressive, assertive, fierce–and she doesn’t cut a deal that doesn’t benefit her.

She also has a mean set of feline teeth that may or may not have chomped down on my arm completely out of the blue. Hey! Are you trying to disable one of your musicians!? I challenged her. But she was unfazed.

I’m the queen. I’ll disable WHO I want to WHEN I want to.

Now what did you think of my proposal to change the band name from ‘Thornfield’ to ‘The Ellie 4ever Tribute Band’?

We had just ordered a bunch of new sound equipment, and the living room at Carrie and Eric’s was strewn with cables, mics, and who knows what else.

Ellie carefully inspected it. She gave everything the full sniff-down.

I was also playing the guitar at the gig for the first time, so she went over my instrument inch by inch.

It seems to check out . . . just make sure to tighten that B string. Did you change it recently? ‘Cause it’s looking a little loose to me.

She supervised all proceedings until every piece of equipment was packed into the car:

If she could just refrain from physically injuring the members of her band, everything would be quite perfect.