Saturday, November 17, 2012


So, yesterday was full and interesting: Got woke up from a dead sleep at 5:30 a.m. by my two dogs going at each other like rabid wolves. I leaped out of bed and ran to the other end of the house. (Note: Not a good idea, generally. Strained my left calf muscle in the process. Sudden physical activity of this nature from a dead sleep? Better not.)

My wife was already up and about, so she got there first and shoved the hounds apart.

Jude, who is half again Layla's size, always gets the worst of it in such encounters. Time before this, she chomped on his foreleg, drew serious blood, and necessitated a visit to our vet that cost us half a house payment to get him fixed.

Yesterday was not so bad, but she still bit him hard enough to break the skin and have him limping badly all day. I bandaged it, dosed him with ASA and antibiotics and he's better today, but still gimping around. 

The joy of dogs. 

Spent I the morning thereafter working on a book draft. Then did several hours in the afternoon watching the youngest grandson. He's one who will actually go outside, and it's amazing what you can do with a mostly-used roll of electrical tape you find on the street, kicking it and tossing it hither and yon. Good thing, because the rains arrived early this a.m.

Came home, changed clothes, and went to dinner at the home of a couple we've known for thirty-odd years, and then we all drove to a nearby wine bar to have a glass and listen to a guy play and sing covers, accompanying himself on electric acoustic guitar. 

The guitarist had a Bose tower behind him and a fat book of songs, couple of Epiphone steel stringers, and did a lot of geezer soft- and alternative-rock, some folk, and country stuff. (Took requests, but didn't do "Mustang Sally ...")

Our friends really like the guy, told us what a great guitarist he was. He had a pleasant voice, a mellow repertoire, and most of what he did I knew the words to, and sang softly along, as did the rest of the folks watching, all of us baby boomers.

Interesting how your perspective changes if you are going down certain roads. While the guitarist was entertaining, he was doing basic Travis-fingerpicking rhythm behind his singing, all first position chords, nary a barre, and a lot of stuff in G. He'd toe his stomp box and give his voice a nice little delay on the choruses for a richer sound. He was comfortable in front of an audience, had good interaction and patter, and I liked his song choices.

Great guitarist? Not as such. 

Still, it goes to the Johnny Cash Theory–you can do a lot with three chords and the truth. Less can sometimes be more.

Last night, our power went out as the rains began to come down hard, aided by a vehicle smacking into a power pole around the corner, and something about the total quiet and darkness (and knowing that you have to get up in the morning and reset the clocks and restart your computer, nags at you as you lie there, so sleep was a bit sketchy. 

Just another interesting Friday ...

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