Tuesday, September 11, 2007

I'd Rather Be in Some Dark (Hemlock) Hollow

I've been remiss in not giving a shout-out to Hemlock Hollow, a hard-working four piece band comprised of four of our best friends. Roger Wilkinson (Samurai insurance man by day, high lonesome sounding singer by night) leads the band, plays guitar and sings. His wife, Chris, plays the mandolin in a style more reminiscent of BB King than David Grisman -- wait, wait, I can justify that. She doesn't play thousands of notes, but the ones she plays are the right ones, giving the tune the mandolin flavor without a lot of busy junk. On guitar and vocals, the Don himself, Don Judy, who is in a lot of ways responsible for my interest in playing the guitar. I first heard Don playing at The Apocalypse
Coffeehouse on Olmsted Air Force Base in Middletown back in the day. Later, Joreen and I were in The Cards with Don. Rounding out the foursome is Mike Miller on bass and vocals, who also plays in Jury of Five with my brother Steve. On occasions, Mike has a conflict like he did Friday night, and so there I was:

in my tie-dye glory, wardrobe courtesy of PK (thanks again, man).

Husband and wife musician teams are dear to my heart. If you can be in a band with your husband and not put a frying pan through his skull while he's sleeping, you're an uncommonly strong woman and to be highly commended.

These photos were taken by our good friend Bob Martin at the Middle Ridge Tavern. Bob is the kind of friend whose smile can lower your blood pressure. Yes, Bobby, you're that cool. Bob is also a bass player and I suppose de facto Webmaster for Hemlock Hollow at the following link:

www.myspace.com/hemlockhollow

Make it a point to catch the Hemlock Hollow if you want to hear a tasty blend of old bluegrass, sixties country rock, and just good tunes. Roger's voice was always good, but all this gigging has given it more strength and confidence. Don and Mike can harmonize anything anytime and make it look easy, and Don solos like he means it. It's always fun when we play together. Another thing about this band: their following are the kind of people you want to hang with, like Warren and Karen Newman. Before you know it, you'll be a Hollowhead too.

By the way, the Middle Ridge Tavern is out in the middle of nowhere but they have this Kalamazoo Stout which is one of the best I've ever tasted, expensive and worth every penny. It's like drinking a loaf of homemade bread. Nice place, good food, cool clientele. If you want to drive there don't trust the Mapquest directions. They're whacked. Link: http://www.middleridgetavern.com/

Monday, September 10, 2007

Take Me Out To The Ballgame

You remember what a beautiful Labor Day weekend we had. On Friday evening, Joreen took Mary, Deven and Travis to the Senators game. Coach Mary had the boys signed up to have their birthdays announced on the scoreboard, and they were chosen for the famous Dizzy Bats competition. Grandma had not brought her camera along, but then a miracle happened. Andi and her friend Cherelle wanted to go out for the evening, and decided they wanted to go to the Island and surprise Grandma. Andi had her camera along, and so we have this Great Moment In Sports History:


The fans went wild.


Later, Coach Grandma offered Travis pointers on how to work on his spitball:

Things got out of control when Deven and Travis began hosting their own techno dance rave on the Island, and it was time to leave:

As summers go, this one was exceptionally cool, and ended well.

Tuesday, September 04, 2007

Katy


Sometime after we moved into this house, the wife and kids started asking me when we could get another dog. After all, bigger house, more animals, right? Seems logical to some people. Go figure. Anyway, my response was always, "One of these days." So one evening, Joreen apparently decided "one of these days" meant "right now" because she called an ad in the paper for a border collie. A healthy exchange of ideas (argument) ensued, during which I told Joreen she was to call the number in the paper and tell them she wasn't coming. Andi responded in a very mature, understanding fashion -- she grabbed the newspaper, ran into our bedroom, and threatened to eat the phone number so her mom couldn't call it. Andi said, "Mom's going to pick up MY DOG!"

Sure enough, later that evening, in comes this border collie. Adjustments had to be made all around. It was her first time in a vehicle, first time away from her sister, first time indoors and, judging from the way she jumped three feet in the air when I turned on the stereo, the first time she listened to the Grateful Dead. We couldn't even name her, because she had already been named "Katy," so we adjusted it to "K.D." for "Kelly's Dog," which is her official name at the vet's.

I had been sold this line that border collies are "smart." Well, independent thinkers, that's for sure, but smart as in easy for first time collie owners to paper train, fuhgedaboudit. She took her sweet time learning that one, in the process picking up the nickname "Einstein" from the guy who had to keep changing his socks.

She did pick up one really high functioning trick, though, and with a vengeance. I taught her to fetch the newspaper in the orange plastic bag and bring it in the house. It took a pretty long time to get her to actually bring it in the house, but she then took a step further, insisting on stripping the bag off the paper, which of course earned her a Beggin' Strip (which smell like bacon, kind of, in an air freshener kind of way.)

One true thing about border collies: they need a job, they need work. Katy took her assignment to fetch the paper so seriously that it led to one of our favorite stories. One time, without our knowing it, we had ignored one too many notices from the Patriot-News to send them some money, and the paper was stopped. So one cold, dark morning, I got out of bed, Katy right in front of me, and headed for the door. "Ready to go to work?" I asked her as I did each time, and she licked her lips in response. (What the hell is in those Beggin' Strips?) Anyway, I opened the door, said, "Get the paper!" and she was off like a shot. It being cold and nasty, I shut the door to wait for her. It took a little longer than usual, but there she was with the orange bag, and life went on as usual -- until the phone rang. It was our next door neighbor, who said, "I think your dog just stole my newspaper."

Katy loved the Frisbee and loved to play catch with the ball. She would sit at the top of the steps, catch a tennis ball, then drop it and let it bounce down to me so I could throw it again. And again. For what seemed like hours.

In her later years, like many athletes, her joints started giving out, and her hips got pretty bad. After Gracie died, Katy was inconsolable, and started going downhill. She was never really herself again, and slowly began losing weight. This Labor Day weekend, she stopped eating and could barely move. Carney Shenk, who for the record is the most knowledgeable and compassionate veterinarian in the world, told us it was probably cancer, and that her organs were shutting down. For the second time this year, it was my task to finish what I started when I accepted dog ownership. Once again, as with Gracie, I made sure that the last words my pet heard were, "Katy's a good dog."

I'll look around and find some other pictures to post of her later. Right now, I'm not up to it. Fortunately, there are some other more cheerful things going on and I'll post about them soon.