Christmas comes early in these parts!
Watch this space later in the week for the arrival of my piano! Yay!
Dropped in to say hi to Mom yesterday -- and to get some deliciously yum-yum pastries from her that she'd bought up in Cleveland (pastries from Cleveland are ten times better than what you can get around here, gang), and she surprised me with a check to pay for my piano!! So I'm able to get it this week instead of at the end of the month, when my royalty check comes! Yippee ki yi yay!
I told ya I was gonna have a good Christmas... (see post below!)
Now, if we could just do something about the spider situation... another one, not quite so large but of the same species, is now in my upstairs bathroom (see post below somewhere about a spider the size of a Buick). So for now, I'm just going out back & doing my business in the yard. ha ha ha. No what I really do is just watch them constantly whenever I'm in the bathroom for any reason at all. And they of course do the same with me -- only they see EIGHT of me, so I must just be really gruesome to them. It's so clear they don't like me any better than I like them and that I really disturb their sense of inner balance & peace whenever I intrude on their space.
When it's nighttime, when it's dark and I'm trying to sleep, I can just barely hear their tiny little spider record players going -- they play that old Animals song over & over, "We gotta get out of this place/ if it's the last thing we ever do..." (I get so tired of finding all those tiny empty spider beer cans littered all over the bathroom floor in the morning, and all those teeny-tiny spider cigarette butts overflowing in their little ashtrays, or whatever it is they're smoking... They just assume I'm going to clean it all up everyday b/c, frankly, I always do, but I don't get any respect.)
You know, I'm really just waiting for someone/anyone who isn't afraid of giant spiders to come over and release these things back into the wild for me. Hopefully before they start breeding....
Hey, maybe the racket of me banging on the piano will make them pack up and leave??? We shall see, gang; we shall see.
Work on the memoir is slow going.
I'm still stuck in that "delete this, delete this, add this -- no, oops, delete it" phase. But it's better than just simply staring. And it's curious that while I'm going through this (the part I'm writing right now deals with when I am 12 & coincidentally in love with John Lennon, the Rolling Stones & Bob Dylan), I'm reading Keith Richards' memoir, Life. I also, on some very strong impulse, decided last night to re-watch Scorsese's great documentary on Dylan from a few years back, No Direction Home . It's funny, how uncannily helpful both these things are --together they help me remember viscerally who I was when I was 12 (I was already a musician and a budding songwriter) .
And I only put in the Dylan documentary b/c I ran out of Midsomer Murders to watch. The Universe speaks loud & clear to me these days, gang. It is truly something to behold.
Dropped in to say hi to Mom yesterday -- and to get some deliciously yum-yum pastries from her that she'd bought up in Cleveland (pastries from Cleveland are ten times better than what you can get around here, gang), and she surprised me with a check to pay for my piano!! So I'm able to get it this week instead of at the end of the month, when my royalty check comes! Yippee ki yi yay!
I told ya I was gonna have a good Christmas... (see post below!)
Now, if we could just do something about the spider situation... another one, not quite so large but of the same species, is now in my upstairs bathroom (see post below somewhere about a spider the size of a Buick). So for now, I'm just going out back & doing my business in the yard. ha ha ha. No what I really do is just watch them constantly whenever I'm in the bathroom for any reason at all. And they of course do the same with me -- only they see EIGHT of me, so I must just be really gruesome to them. It's so clear they don't like me any better than I like them and that I really disturb their sense of inner balance & peace whenever I intrude on their space.
When it's nighttime, when it's dark and I'm trying to sleep, I can just barely hear their tiny little spider record players going -- they play that old Animals song over & over, "We gotta get out of this place/ if it's the last thing we ever do..." (I get so tired of finding all those tiny empty spider beer cans littered all over the bathroom floor in the morning, and all those teeny-tiny spider cigarette butts overflowing in their little ashtrays, or whatever it is they're smoking... They just assume I'm going to clean it all up everyday b/c, frankly, I always do, but I don't get any respect.)
You know, I'm really just waiting for someone/anyone who isn't afraid of giant spiders to come over and release these things back into the wild for me. Hopefully before they start breeding....
Hey, maybe the racket of me banging on the piano will make them pack up and leave??? We shall see, gang; we shall see.
Work on the memoir is slow going.
I'm still stuck in that "delete this, delete this, add this -- no, oops, delete it" phase. But it's better than just simply staring. And it's curious that while I'm going through this (the part I'm writing right now deals with when I am 12 & coincidentally in love with John Lennon, the Rolling Stones & Bob Dylan), I'm reading Keith Richards' memoir, Life. I also, on some very strong impulse, decided last night to re-watch Scorsese's great documentary on Dylan from a few years back, No Direction Home . It's funny, how uncannily helpful both these things are --together they help me remember viscerally who I was when I was 12 (I was already a musician and a budding songwriter) .
And I only put in the Dylan documentary b/c I ran out of Midsomer Murders to watch. The Universe speaks loud & clear to me these days, gang. It is truly something to behold.
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