I Hit The Megamillions Lottery!

Well, okay, I only hit it for eight bucks, but that's a four dollar net profit. Woo hoo! Who needs $330 million anyway? Nothing but problems, people pestering you to buy Rolexes (Rolices?), all those new relatives to get acquainted with... fuhgeddaboudit. I guess we'll have to go with Plan B, which is to go to work in Easton tomorrow.

As an aside, since I've been using Joreen's old ThinkPad to log in and post I've noticed some spam ads appearing in my text, underlined in green. I apologize for that although I don't know how to get rid of it. The kids have been playing on-line games on this machine for so long it's a wonder there's anything besides spyware on this puppy. Hopefully my Toshiba will be back soon, and hopefully the repair won't cost much more than four bucks. (Yeah, right!) Easy come, easy go.

Oh, Joy, Another Year

We got off to a great start today. My computer's fan started making grinding noises, and I don't have the proprietary wrench to go in and mess with it. I had to pay a "bench fee" to find out how badly I was going to get "hosed." I hate computers. They're of Satan.

Joreen and I spent the day sending out promo materials on the band, and we managed to nail down one event in March, so there's something to live for besides the Farm Show. It's a little silly but I really do look forward to that every year now. It's great fun, good eats, people watching at its finest, and you can find items for sale that you won't see anywhere else.

Last year was The Year of Getting Around To Things, and overall it went well. This year is tentatively the Year of Clearing Out. I am going to take a hard look at my borderline Hoarders-episode-worthy house and do something about it. I'm currently working on one shelf at a time in the basement. It's a work in progress.

Something Good This Way Comes

The New Year has promise. So did the Millionaire Raffle ticket that Joreen put in my stocking, an ingenious marketing ploy touting how high the odds are that you could become a millionaire by purchasing a $20 ticket. What does 1:125,000 mean? Citizens Bank Park holds close to 46,000 people. Put three of them side by side, put 41,666 people in each, and then pick which person has a winning ticket in their pocket. Oh, well, who needs the jackpot? I have the woman who bought me the ticket, so I'm already a winner.

Christmas was good. The music was especially fine. Alex and Bob and Joreen and I so totally pwned the traditional Christmas Prelude that Joreen arranged. I did something out of character and actually practiced the darn thing this year. What a concept. The outdoor decorations were as lame as the music was good, but on the bright* side it will take less than five minutes and no ladder to take them down. Next year I'm going Griswold. You'll need welder's glasses to drive by the place. (*That was unintentional, but I'm leaving it in on purpose.)

New Year's was a little difficult, I can't lie. Once again the band sat home due to a lack of an appropriate venue, and a last-minute miracle did not drop out of the sky. Oh, well, as the Chicago Cubs fan sign used to say on opening day, "Wait till next year." Most of you have seen the videos that Joreen made at Dillsburg, but here's a link for those who have not. We're working on our sound and also contingency plans for our drummer's knee surgery hiatus. We're confident that this year will be better. I've got this fantasy of having an event featuring Element 22, Laredo and Just Friends. That would be worth taking a swing at. Stay tuned for details. Meanwhile, we did have a little fun at midnight, crashing the next door neighbors' celebration. They gave the kids sparklers and let them run around yelling. Very old school, and very appreciated, especially the scaring away bad fortune part. We'll take all the help we can get.

The past year was a lot of things, good and bad, but now it's passed, and it's time to look forward. Challenges ahead, sure, but the song that comes to mind to start the year is from Dylan's son Jakob: Something Good This Way Comes. "Got my window open wide... got a good woman by my side... I know something good this way comes."

Weekend Update

Saturday night, Just Friends played at the Iberian Lounge. We are pleased with the progression in the size of the crowd and the good response from the dancers. Despite using a stripped down system and going without a sound man, we have managed to keep the sound good and the crowd happy. The management of the hotel is going to a smaller band format for next year, but we will be making an appearance on the veranda during the warmer months. Stay tuned for details.

This morning the St. Catherine choir was in fine voice. We've picked up some new members and are up to 19 singers now. It's a fun bunch of people, and the sound is sweet. We did O Sacrament Most Holy and at one point the accompaniment dropped out, and it was all a cappella and very nice. People came up and complimented Joreen on the sound of the choir. Any more new members and we'll need to buy new robes. That's a good problem to have.

Tonight after the 7:00 Mass I went over to Dad and Rose's to celebrate Dad's birthday with him by watching the Eagles with him and David and sharing a pizza. That was fun. I may have to do it again, which means I better work on becoming a football fan. I left after I think it was the second inning.

On the way home, I stopped and got the ingredients for the most important dish of all on Thanksgiving: the green beans, mushroom soup and those dried onions. I love that stuff, especially for lunch the next day with whatever stuffing the kids don't inhale. Thanksgiving rocks.

I Know One Thing True: I Was Born To Play For You

The title is from a tune of mine, "Steady Love," and it describes what I did pretty much all weekend. Friday, I played a solo acoustic show at the Cornerstone Coffeehouse in Camp Hill, PA. It's a nice venue, and I stacked the deck by inviting a bunch of friends. Thanks to Ginny and Bill (Hi Ginny I said hi to you first!), Ed and Grace, Chris and Roger, my dear friend from back in the day Maria Gardner Reedy and her husband Ron, Terry, Alex and his buddy Mark, Sean, Dave Weyl, the multi-talented Karen Gray, the one and only Susie Carter from our first band The Cards, and of course my dear wife, the mighty Mrs. Kelly for their support. This show went more smoothly than the first, and thanks to Alex I actually have a bootleg of it. The above photo is from the CD cover. It's great to have technologically savvy friends.

Some of us went over to Ed and Grace's after the gig to help me celebrate my birthday. We sang and played some more, ate some of Grace's Pampered Chef creations, and did the traditional coconut cake and Jamison's thing (hey, it's our tradition, go get your own!). Before you know it we were partying like kids again -- well, maybe a little more intelligently than kids, but we had a blast. I've said this to all of them and I'll say it again here. There's lots of people with lots more money, but in terms of the friends I've made and kept over the years, I am one of the richest men in the world. It's been a rough patch in some ways recently, and this was a welcome oasis of fun and relaxation. Thanks to you all.

Saturday, my actual birthday, we attended the wedding of Vince's daughter Megan. Joreen played the organ at the Grace United Methodist Church and I accompanied her on guitar for the candle lighting song, "Grow Old With Me," by John Lennon. Nice touch, eh? The reception was a great time. Just Friends were invited as guests, which meant we could scarf hors d'oeuvres and hit the open bar without feeling guilty. We also brought our axes and did a quick set, ending with the father of the bride and I singing a duet on "Volare." Man, how cool is that? Laredo, featuring my brothers Dave and Bill, were the actual wedding band for the day, so we didn't have to load any gear in or out. Bonus!

Sunday was another peak musical experience. Fr. Sullivan organized a solemn vespers to honor those who have died this past year, parishioners and relatives of parishioners. The church was candlelit, with beautiful flowers on the altar and votive candles on a table in the front of church with the names of those who had passed away. My sister in law Jinny had a candle there. Joreen and I and a young man from McDevitt, Tony Bender, who has an amazing voice, did the music. It was deeply moving, and some of the family members of the deceased were visibly touched. Frank DiNatale, another friend from high school and before that, lost his father recently. He came up and embraced me with tears in his eyes. I felt honored to be a part of something so healing and consoling to people who need it.

And now it's back to the grindstone. We've been scaring up a few gigs for next year and hoping we can find the right audience for our band. If any of you know anyone who's getting married, let me know. There's at least a toaster oven in it for you. I hope that doesn't sound too needy.

I Dot a Code id by Node

but I'm still able to sing, sort of. I'm still going to do the Cornerstone show tomorrow, hopefully coughing and hacking between songs instead of in the middle of them. Just Friends rehearsed tonight, and it's amazing how tight we're getting. The new material is sounding good and we're revisiting old pieces and refurbing them. There's an Italian swing tune called "Tu Vuo Fa L'Americano" which is a blast to play, and Vince just plain pwns it as you can hear here. We've been tweezing it up and it sounds even better now. We're going to "sit in" for Vince's daughter Megan's wedding, which is being played by Laredo.

Meanwhile, days are getting shorter and leaves are getting thicker. I'll have to get around to leafblowing one of these days, unless it snows first.

Now, Where Was I?

It's time for the usual apology for not posting for a while. There's been so much going on and it's coincided with one of those spells where I just don't feel like blogging. The change of seasons is bringing more changes in our lives, and as many of you know I'm not known for hitting the "like" button on change. I know it's cryptic, but you'll get it in context as we go along.

I'm playing a solo acoustic show at Cornerstone Coffeehouse in Camp Hill tomorrow, November 12th, 8:30 to 10:30: a mix of originals, off-the-wall covers and any requests I feel like taking, assuming I can fake my way through them. No, Freebird will not be one of them.

Still Rockin' After All These Years

Turning 50 can be spooky. It can also be a lot of fun. Thanks to my little brother's wife Kathy, with an assist from his father-in-law, the lead trombonist for Just Friends, Jim Wallish, Dave showed up at his backyard on Sunday with a surprised look on his face like in the picture below:

You'd almost think those two were related. That's our Dad, of course, and in the background you can see his new Toyota.

Dave's birthday party was more like a summit meeting for musicians. I know my count is off, but there were at least four drummers, three keyboard players, three bass players and enough guitar players to change a lightbulb, and that's not counting Dave's students, some of whom are pretty darn good as well -- and a couple-three sound engineers for good measure. We could have fielded an all-day festival with no problem.

It's hard to make a living playing music. It's harder still to do it and earn a reputation of being a straight shooter, a decent human, and the kind of guy you're proud to work with. Dave has managed to pull it off. Many happy returns, little brother. Reminder: You're doing the Singles Dance with us on Labor Day Sunday. You can borrow my tux. Livin' the dream.

Got Dem Ol Lower Allen Blues, Mama

Yesterday I kept up a mostly yearly tradition of playing for either Steve or Sandy's birthday party in their backyard, by the pool. This year we had a special guest, Blind Boy Carlos, on the harp. Carlos, aka Craig Milus, is a fine harmonica player who also is in the court reporting business on the side. We had a lot of fun on a perfect day to be out eating, drinking and playing music. Thanks to Sandy for inviting me to play, to Steve for his fine vocals, to Craig for his support, and to everybody there for making it such a good time.

These are some seriously good people, and I've had the pleasure of calling them not only colleagues but friends for many years now. There may be people who make more money doing what we do, but there's more to life than income level. I count myself as a wealthy man for having friends like these (although a few more thou a year wouldn't hurt.)

Friday I did something different, one of those other things I've wanted to get around to in this Year Of Getting Around To Things. I bought enough peaches to freeze a bunch, and when I say "enough," I mean a half a bushel. Anybody want some peaches? If yes, speak up soon. They are so peaking good right now it's insane, and the juice runs down your arm. I've given a few away already, but I have a couple dozen left. If you want some, give me a call. This is what's best about summer -- good music, good friends and good produce. Soon: peach pie. Mmmmmm... pie....

If You Stick Around Long Enough...

... the improbable will happen to you. This was the case this week when Just Friends played Knoebel's Amusement Resort Thursday. When I was in the eighth grade at St. Catherine's, there were a few high-functioning kids who formed a band called The Invaders. One of the guitar players was a distant cousin of mine named Pat McCann, who went on to play in a band called Coventry and later Rudy Kazootie (don't hold me to the spelling.) I always wanted to be able to play in a band with Pat, and this week I got the chance. He sat in on bass while Mark Evans did a time-share dealie in New Mexico. We had a great time at Knoebel's. Many of you are old enough to remember when Hershey Park was not one word and it was a real park. That's how Knoebel's is. We got soaked to the bone during the loadout, but it was still a great time. Thanks to our family and friends who stopped by, including Dave and Kathy, Bill and Ginny, Peggy Davis, and our very own Parker Kenyon.

Friday night was a rehearsal for the next iteration of The Durable Goods, with Alex Harden on bass, JF's drummer John Wilson on drums, and Joreen and I. We're doing some of the sixties stuff we did at the benefit last year, but the real thrill for me was doing a few of my new songs. I finally heard "Busted Heart" the way I heard it between my ears. Muy cool.

Last night, Just Friends with Pat McCann on bass and Chris Novak on sound played the Minnequa, a private club in Shippensburg. This is an odd little venue which supports live music, although getting the crowd to dance, clap and interact is a bit like herding cats. They sit there all night and look at you, and then at ten of twelve they start going nuts and yelling for encores. Go figure. Anyway, it was a good gig, especially for Joreen and I because we indulged ourselves in a little rock and roll fantasy. The Minnequa is right across the alley from a hotel called Shippen Place. Rather than make Joreen play 5:00 Mass, zip down the road, play four hours, drive home, get up and play Mass at 9:00 a.m., we just get a room. That way we finish playing, have a nightcap, get a good night's sleep, do the continental breakfast and go from there. It's a business expense, a mini-vacation, whatever you want to call it. We even talk about throwing the TV out the window, although we never do it.

Today was the feast of the Assumption, and Fr. Sullivan had an amazing homily about St. Catherine Laboure laying her hands in the lap of the Blessed Mother. This guy can really preach. The hymns were pretty sweet, too, once I got some feelings back in my hands. They felt like oatmeal this morning, but I still managed to get a few hymns out of them tonight. Music is the best.

Now we have some down time until September with Just Friends. I'm going to try to get a recording together of some new songs and work on some new arrangements for Vince and Jim. We're starting to really get a sound. It's all good.

Market Day in Cleveland and the Ride Home

Just to finish up the travelogue of our Cleveland adventure, we got up early Friday morning and packed the car before and after breakfast. The woman who cooked for us, Vi, was a real sweetheart and did her best to make every breakfast memorable. We enjoyed our stay thoroughly and would recommend the University Circle B&B to anyone who wants a break from the usual Hampton Inn-style rooms.

On our way out of town, we stopped down at The West Side Market on 25th and Lorain Street. It took us a while to learn that there's a 25th Street on both sides of the city. This farmers market makes the West Shore Farmers Market look like a 7-11. The number of high quality meat stands, cheese stands, specialty stands and produce stands was so impressive that as soon as we got there I regretted not bringing a cooler. This was easily fixed by running down the street to a Dollar Store and buying a soft-shell cooler which we filled with some of the best meat I've ever bought. Feeling adventurous, I bought a rack of baby-back ribs to do on the grill, along with some amazing bacon, Vermont sharp cheese, lemons and limes way cheaper than locally available, and other bounty.

We iced everything up and headed for home, with perfect driving weather and almost no traffic troubles capping off a vacation for the record books. Of course, I'm cheating when I say a vacation is a good one, because Joreen and I could have a great time anywhere, doing anything. But Cleveland does indeed rock, and so do we -- not bad for a couple of grandparents.

I Don't Know Art But I Know What I Like

Thursday in Cleveland. We had another great breakfast to gear up for yet another long walking session, this time through the Cleveland Art Museum. We traded in my driver's license for a couple of headsets that would explain some of the exhibits. I feel like I earned three credit-hours that morning. I marvel at how I can look at something and go, "Hey, dude, that's old," and then by the end of the explanation of how significant it is I can barely believe I was allowed to see it.

We spent the first long stretch in the museum alternating between looking at old Egyptian, Roman, Etruscan, African and other people's stuff and running from the day care swarms. There's a special kind of annoying frequency occupied by 20 or 90 little kids in T-shirts looking at mummies. Isn't there a nice playground or water park to take these cherubs to? But I digress.

The kicker was when we had walked for two hours and my dear wife's back was starting to ask when we were leaving. Then and only then did we find the Picassos, the Van Goghs, the Monets, the Manets, etc. She got a second wind and I discovered something that might sound smart-alecky but it's not. You can just sit and look at one of those paintings and it's as entertaining as watching a movie, especially the Van Gogh. On some level it was as cool as hearing a great band, and I say that even admitting that I don't know half of the reasons why it was so great. Note to self: keep learning about art. I can't wait to go back there.

Okay, so after the museum we made another kind of ill-advised move. We had heard about these cool beaches on the lake which were to our east. After spending some time getting spun around (courtesy of "Lance," our GPS voice) and our innate ability to screw up simple directions, we arrived at this, uh, beach. Well, it had sand and it had a lake, but it was no Rehoboth. We stood there for a while and left.

By now we were getting hungry again. We had accomplished a lot in terms of getting our bearings but our lay of the land still had holes in it, so we stayed in our comfort zone and went back to Little Italy. We intended to try another restaurant, but looking at the menus at various eateries we realized we were going to pay a lot for cloth napkins and fancy place settings when we could get a perfectly perfect Italian meal at -- you guessed it -- Mama Santa's. Joreen had the chicken parmagiana and I went with the manicotti and meatballs. Good St. Rocco smiled on us again.

Now we had time on our hands and decided to go shopping. We found a mall which was almost exclusively exclusive. How exclusive? We were far and away the two worst-dressed people in the mall, and that includes the maintenance staff. We didn't spend a dime (I don't think they even take dimes there) but we had fun window-shopping and planning on how we would dress when we hit the lottery.

To cap off the night, we headed up a street from University Circle that we should have explored earlier. We were looking for a nightcap, and decided to check out Melt. This is a new restaurant that is hipper than hip in Cleveland, and has been visited both by the Diners, Drive-ins and Dives guy (who is a real d*****bag, but I digress) and the Man V. Food guy (Hey, I'm gonna try and eat five pounds of food! How cool is that?). The location we tried is the second Melt in the area, after the first one went nuclear. We arrived at 9:30 at night on a Thursday and found out it's about the only time there isn't a line to get in. Melt's founder has really hit a nerve, and it's genius. Combine a whole lot of kitsch and buzz with a couple dozen high end beers on tap and something as basic and comforting as grilled cheese sandwiches in a college town, and then just count the money.

Here's the kicker. We're having beers, and looking at the menu, and we thought it might be nice to have a bite to eat. Joreen ordered a small salad, and I chose this sandwich called The Kindergartner. It's white American cheese on bread. My brothers, you remember what Mom's grilled cheese sandwiches looked like? That's not what I got. This thing was about three and a half inches thick, and since I substituted Havarti for white American and had the grilled onions, and since I didn't look at the menu and realize it came with fries and cole slaw, I ended up doing what everybody does. I took a to-go box with me. Once again, I had experienced art -- the art of the entrepreneur, taking something as mundane as a grilled cheese sammidge and turning it into a goldmine. It was delicious. My only complaint is that we didn't go there when we were hungrier.

Next up: the farmers' market of your dreams and the ride home.

Here's Ya Pizza, I Got Ya Pizza Right Here

Wednesday afternoon in Cleveland:

Heading back towards the bed and breakfast, we began to feel the call of the pizza. We had been told of a place called Valentino's which supposedly has the best pizza in town, but when we got there it appeared to be a tiny take-out place with some outdoor seating, not the air-conditioned pig-out refuge we had in mind. We decided to head back to Mama Santa's for pizza. It was tasty enough, especially with the sausage and mushrooms. The slow service, given the almost empty mid-afternoon state of the place, was a plus for a change as we got to sit in the AC and talk while our feet rested up from the zooathon.

We went back to the B&B and hung for a while until 6:00 when we fell into our next really good time. There is a concert series in University Heights called WOW, Wade Oval Wednesday. This evening's band was a group called The Speedbumps, an indie rock band ("indie rock" meaning they're an unsigned band working their gigi off trying to get noticed, booked and, yes, signed). The lineup is unique: guitar/lead vocals (also the writer), acoustic double bass, drums, keys and cello. The material was the usual introspective, melancholy, journey of self-discovery crap for the most part, but well played and nicely melodic. We bought the CDs -- hey, the show was free -- and it's not exactly the kind of stuff you'd play at a party, or the gym. Still, that's my new model as a music consumer, putting the cash in the hand of the guy who made the record. Some of the songs are really good, and some of the others are growing on me.

It was a flawless summer evening, warm but not oppressive, with local restaurants and even a bar, The Euclid Tavern, selling food and beverages including sushi (which I ate for the first time in Cleveland at the end of May), barbecue chicken that rocked Joreen's world courtesy of a lovely African-American woman named Ruby, and a nice cold beverage -- very civilized.

All full of ourselves (and good grub) at this point, we decided to go back to The Savannah to catch a dance band called Entourage. This was a bit of a mistake, in that they were kind of like going to see Just Friends on a real off night. I suspect at least two of the players were stand-ins, given the way they had to talk about beginnings and endings of every song. The lead chick singer -- er, excuse me, Joreen -- female vocalist was pretty talented and the overall sound was good, but the way the guitar player stomped on his overdrive during the solo on "Long Train Running" reminded me of me, and not in a good way. It was educational, but not as much fun as the oldies band.

The worst part was the tantalizingly cool T-shirt worn by the waitresses. Savannah's has live music almost every night, despite the funky economy. It makes me nuts that there's no place like that around here, but one consequence of having all those local bands booked is that one of the waitresses made a shirt that says on the back, Mustang Sally -- in a red circle with a line through it! They were out of them. I would have tried to buy the one off her back, but she had customized it with some pinking shears and I don't have the figure to pull that off. I'm going to pester these people until they finally sell me one, though. That is so frickin' cool.

Next entry: the art museum, another trip to Mama Santa's, an upscale mall, and the hippest grilled cheese sandwich in the world.

Lions and Tigers and Bears, Who Needs 'Em?

Picking up the vacation narrative on Tuesday morning, we had an early breakfast at the B&B, hung out with Gary the proprietor a while, then headed to the Cleveland Zoo. We were there at the opening, 10:00 a.m., and for the next four hours we walked, and walked, and said, "Holy crap, look at that!" and then walked some more. As with every cultural facility we saw in Cleveland, it was a first-rate operation and at least as cool as anything in D.C. How much was there to see? By the time we had visited every major area except the above-mentioned LT&Bs, we were worn out and left them for another day.

I have to mention two high points for me. First was the butterfly exhibit. As cool as the botanical garden's butterfly display was, the zoo's was an order of magnitude cooler. This small, Garden of Eden-like room was filled with butterflies, including the huge, gorgeous blue morphos, a non-descript brown when their wings are closed, but in flight an electric blue not seen since the hippie days. Despite being crowded, the setting, the Japanese music, these tiny floating miracles put me in a state of calm, and quiet awe. Nice work, Lord, very nice work indeed. Butterflies kind of make up for mosquitoes, almost.

As we left the butterfly building, right there was another personal favorite, the giraffes. Maybe it started back when I read Slaughterhouse Five, but I've always loved giraffes. Seeing them in person, the way they move in real-time slow motion, their weird grace and calm, the beautiful coloring, everything about them fascinates me. There were eight giraffes, including two young'uns, and there was one adult who did that eating-over-the fence-with-splayed-legs-and-bent-in-half posture that just makes me laugh. Intelligent design, all right, and with a sense of humor to boot.

To paraphrase "The Princess Bride," let me explain -- no, there is too much. Let me summarize. The lorikeets, rainbow colored opportunists, snatched little cups of nectar from shaking eight-year-olds and hopped on the hands of anyone who looked like they would buy them a drink. People watching? The best. Selected species: the swarm of T-shirted shrieking daycare rats, the acid-tongued mommy shrew, the Aeropostale-breasted teen whiner, the hollow-skulled tweeners, the black-clad pierced emo sulker, the soft-brained bottle-sucking stroller bunnies, and the sunburnt map-reading tourists (hey, that was us!)

The sun was getting to be too much and our legs were reminding us of our age, so we headed back to the gate. I couldn't leave without checking out the rainforest, though, a separate facility in a geodesic dome that contained fantastic animals in a beautiful setting. High point for me was when we walked into a darkened corridor of nocturnal animals, and what appeared to be a blank glass wall transformed, as my eyes adjusted to the dim light, into a habitat for fruit bats, flying right up to the window and roosting inches from us. Creepy, okay, maybe a little, but fascinating.

That's enough for now. I'll pick up the next post at lunch, back in Little Italy.

That's What I Call A Vacation

This morning, we had a great breakfast with a side order of conversation courtesy of the inn's owner, Gary. We chilled in the room until midmorning, then headed to the Museum of Natural History. Covering the usual arc of "you are here, the dinosaurs were here before you," the facility was full of wonders: gems, artifacts, this and that. Early high points were pieces of equipment built as backups to the Mars landrover unit; a good sized moon rock; lots of fossils and dinosaur skeleton reconstructions. The soundtrack for the morning was full of youngsters squealing with delight at the dinosaurs.

We headed next to the Botanical Gardens. Anyone who has ever tried to grow anything in dirt owes it to themselves to make the trip out here. There are controlled environments with flora and fauna in them, like the one that really got to me, the Costa Rican environment. Imagine opening an airlock-type door and being greeted by about a dozen different species of butterflies. It was amazing. Later, we found our way to a Japanese garden where it was so quiet and peaceful you could ignore the construction and the chitchat of the other tourists and just zen out for a while.

Lunch, we finished off the sandwiches and potato salad we brought with us. This evening, we headed out to a suburb called Rocky River where the real fun started. Joreen indulged herself in a pedicure, coming out with a sparkly color red usually only found on Italian imported guitars. Next, we went up the street to a Pub where the men wear kilts (because if you call them skirts, ye'll get kilt) and the waitresses where what look like Catholic school uniforms except they're so short that Sr. Mary Oblongata would have called your Mom if you showed up wearing one. They had Koenig Ludwig on tap, a Hefeweizen near and dear to Joreen's heart. The fish and chips were spot-on, and it was cheap beer Tuesdays or something like that. Bonus!

And then, the payoff. We went up the road to a club called Savannah's. Located in a strip mall, if you looked at it you would have no idea how cool it was inside. There was a four piece band called the Geezecats. When I called to ask what they did, the guy said, "Oldies." He wasn't kidding. The set list:

At The Hop, Return to Sender, Oh Donna, Pretty Little Angel Eyes, Twistin the Night Away, All in the Game, Splish Splash, Chain Gang, Walk Don't Run, Rhythm of the Falling Rain, Save the Last Dance For Me, Since I Fell For You -- then they all put on Mickey Mouse ears and sang the closing theme to the Mickey Mouse Club, and then Goodnight, Sweetheart.

My musician friends and I have played these songs, but not nearly with the finesse and grace and sincerity of these guys. The tone was perfect, the crowd was absolutely into it, the walls were filled with glossy photos of bands that have played at Savannah's since God made reverb tanks, and we had a high, holy, serious good time. We also danced to the above-mentioned slow tunes. At the end of the night, the drummer, who was apparently the leader, said this: "We're gonna be here next Tuesday. We plan on doing the same thing." That gives me hope. Some good things are still around. The guitar player was playing something called a Duesenberg. All four guys look like they've been doing this a long time, and they're doing it just exactly perfectly. Live music is the best.

There are photos, but they're in the camera which I left in the car. I'm pretty bushed, because on top of all of this I managed to find a Planet Fitness and got a workout in while Joreen was getting her tootsies done. Tomorrow: the Zoo, and the pizzeria in Little Italy that is supposedly the best around.

Getting Ready to Get Out of Dodge

An action-packed weekend here at the Kellys. Last night I got home just minutes ahead of the rehearsal time for the Reasonable Facsimiles, the newest iteration of the Durable Goods franchise. Alex, Joreen and I were joined by John Wilson on drums, preparing for a birthday party at the brewery for a friend of Alex's. Thanks for the gig, Alex, and thank you also for an excuse to crank up and play some sweet tunes in the basement. To listen to us you'd never know we were a bunch of old farts, some older than others.

Today I called Ed and we decided to get together for eats at Ed and Grace's, which is like being on a Food Network show without the bright lights and the rude, annoying judges. If Donald Trump ate better than we did tonight, who cares. Dan and Phyllis came over and we sang four part harmony while Ed did tilapa and steaks on the grill -- well, it took two grills, but the end result was might tasty.

Meanwhile, Roger called me at 4:30 and asked me to play his brother's birthday party with him. How can I refuse, especially when the consideration we finally negotiated was a case of Troeg's, which will provide a six-pack to take on vacation. The party was a blast, and Brian, Roger's brother, had some amazing food catered for the celebration. Imagine a white cake with icing that tastes like Creamsicles. Yeah, Creamsicles. Oh, baby. Roger and Chris play have found a niche playing intimate, living-room size places and keeping the audience entertained in that framework, which is harder than it sounds. Anybody can play loud, but to play softly and still keep the energy up is a nice trick.

As summers go, I'm really enjoying this one. There's a good balance of work and play here, and there's that sense of impending joy that comes when you're expecting another grandkid. Watch this space for coming events. Next stop, after Mass and a bunch of transcripts turned in: Cleveland.

Two-Day Long Weekend

It seems long because it's been so action-packed. Yesterday we celebrated Roger Wilkinson's birthday, which is actually today. He turns 60 and had more than one guest for each of those years at his party, which was impressive. He found about the surprise party early and volunteered to bring his own PA system and do the opening set, which was impressive. He dealt with some serious failures to communicate among various levels of management at the brewery without going into Donald Duck mode, which was impressive. Now, if he really wants to impress me, he'll play and lug equipment at my 60th birthday party. Happy Birthday, Roger. We're glad you were born.

Today was Andrea's surprise baby shower, and unlike Roger's, it stayed a surprise until she walked in the door. She actually walked in the wrong door, but that's all right. Brian's family and friends were all there, and they are a really fine bunch of people. Joreen, Mary, the boys and I felt very welcome and at home with them. The food -- hold that thought. Andie just called while I was typing this. She's still smiling from today, and I could hear it over the phone. At some point I'll have to post a picture. She's really, really expecting. Anyway, the food was outstanding. It was a place called Mama's Pizza in Loganville, and everything from the stromboli to the wings to the pasta was great. I'm going to have to dial in an extra ten minutes on the exercise machine tomorrow.

And now, I'm going to go to bed and hope this bug bite on my left pinkie continues to subside without killing me or, worse, making me play with only three fingers and a thumb. I need all the help I can get. I think it was a spider, but not one of the recluse, skin-melting, yucky kind.

So That's What Pommes Frites Are

We finally decided on Cafe Bruges in Carlisle for our anniversary dinner, and it was very interesting. They have authentic Belgian food and beers, in some ways too authentic. I always wanted to try the fries and they were really good, although I balked at the traditional accompaniment, mayonnaise. I have an open mind, but it's not open that far. I went with the horseradish sauce, which I'm sure was mostly mayonnaise, but tasty. I had a salad of green beans, little red potatoes and bacon cubes. I think Bruges is Belgian for "Let's go carbo-load till we blow up." Joreen got something whose formal name I forget but it was basically a beef stew. The meat was great. The gravy was even better on the fries than the horsey sauce.

And of course, the beer menu is ridiculous. It's about a ten page booklet, designed to be taken by the patrons and used to make notes and keep track of the beers tried, and also to know the ABV, which is important. I got the flight of 5 ounce drafts, and surprisingly the one that made the most impression on me was the raspberry lambic. I disparage fruity beers all the time, but this was amazingly good.

We ran up a moderately impressive tab and didn't feel we'd wasted a dime. I'd recommend it to anyone who wants a different dining experience. The ambience is not very formal. The location was formerly a regular bar and grille, I believe, and it's kind of noisy, especially on a Friday when you're next to a table full of people whose trippels and saisons are starting to kick in. Fruity, sour, bitter, malty, however else you describe these beers, they are also high octane, and we were very careful to stay away from the "big" beers since we weren't planning to spend the night there. I would also recommend, if you're going to get a salad with your fries, take note whether it has potatoes in it. I didn't, and ended up bringing a bunch of fries home, which is okay because I'll reheat them for breakfast as soon as I come back from the gym


Oh, that's the other news I haven't put up here yet. I joined Planet Fitness last week. That's another one of the things I'm getting around to here in the Year of Getting Around to Things. I'm still in the process of being trained on the different equipment and I'm concentrating on the low-impact cardio stuff right now, mostly the elliptical machine which is kind of a cross-country skiing deal. Too early to start kicking sand in weenies' faces on the beach, but the big thing is it really clears the head and improves the attitude. I should have gotten around to this a long time ago.

Finally, I spoke to Dad last night (hey, Dad!) and he got a new car after somebody decided they were too damn important to stop for a red light on Derry Street last week. He's fine except for a little stiffness in the neck and an ache in the budget from having to go back to car payments for the first time in ten years. He got a Toyota Yaris. He said he likes it so far, and I'm going to have to check it out. It's a shame about his 1995 Saturn coupe, though. The cost to repair it was just too high. That was a cool car, and it sucks that GM discontinued them.

In a little while I'm going to set up for Roger Wilkinson's surprise birthday party. The surprise was for his wife and son when he found out about it a couple weeks ago. It's in the Abbey Bar upstairs at the ABC Brewery. I intend to concentrate on playing and socializing rather than eating and drinking. One side effect of resuming exercise is that you want to eat like a machine, and I can't go for that, no can do. In fact, I think I'll go break a sweat now.

34 Years and Counting

Today is our wedding anniversary, and the weather is just as hot and humid as it was back in 1976. Readers of the blog will remember this story from last year. Something very cool in the Patriot-News this morning: a Lower Paxton Twp. man and wife who make us look like newlyweds. When you get to the double nickel and think of all the cool things behind you, the temptation is to think that there's less road ahead than behind. Then I read about these folks who are still ribbing each other and flirting after 70 years, and I realize that I just got a great anniversary present, the best there is: hope.

Joreen and I will be laying low for the occasion. It's become a tradition lately to celebrate our anniversary on our vacation. Week after next we are going to Cleveland for the week. I know, not the first vacation spot that comes to mind, but there's a lot to see and do out there. There's a first rate zoo, for one thing, which the Mrs. is very into. We're staying at a B&B near Little Italy, and planning to check out the local attractions. We might even do the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame again.

Under coming attractions, Just Friends will be available to the public twice in August. Sunday, August 1, we'll be at the Hershey Antique Auto Museum for a one-hour show, from 1:00 to 2:00 p.m. They have billed us as an oldies show, so we're accommodating them. Tequila, anyone? Come check out the classic car competition and vote for your favorite. The event is a benefit for MDA, and we're in discussions with Jerry Lewis about having him open for us. Yes, really.

Saturday, August 7, we are at the Verhovay on 29th Street in Harrisburg. It looks like a dive from the outside, but it's really a very nice place to hear music. The drinks are ridiculously reasonable, the food is cheap and tasty, and of course there's Just Friends. Come hear some of the new stuff. Unfortunately, there's a conflict for some of our peeps that night, with Tom and Susan having a party, but there's ways to do both. Shuttle bus, anybody? We start at 8:00, so try to drop in for at least a set, if not the whole night.

Now, back to work. First, I think I'll go downstairs and kiss the wife. Check out the picture of us at Hummelstown. Isn't she cute? "We are the feeling you get in the golden state."

Summertime and the Living is Not Too Shabby

Here you see the Kellys opening for Laredo at the Hummelstown Fair. Thanks to Dave, Bill, Brian and Scott for having us. There's some videos on YouTube of our performance as well as Laredo. The duet is a cautionary tale about trying to do a song you only think you know. Next time, Johnny, memorize the dang thing.

Father's Day was also pretty cool. Dave and Kathy hosted at their place and we ate hot dogs, hamburgers and the usual summer bounty. Thanks to them for their hospitality. Cookout potluck beats four star cloth napkin every time.

Let's see. Working back, Sunday the 13th of June we saw Phish in Hershey. It was a lot of fun, but not life-changing. I did not see God, collapse in tears of joy or max out my credit card buying every ticket on the tour. They were fun, though. They still can't write their way out of a paper bag, but man, can they operate those instruments.

The night before, June 12th, I did a solo acoustic show at the Cornerstone Coffeehouse in Camp Hill. It was something different for me, carrying two whole sets alone, with about three-quarters original songs. It was hard, but I managed to floop up every single one of them in some way, shape or form. The audience was kind, but since most of them were musicians, I was busted where I stood. Again, it was a lot of fun. Personal highlight was singing a song I wrote about Andrea and one that Mary gave me the idea for while they were there. It was a four-Kelly night. Brian, Andrea's man, was also there. He's just started playing guitar and is making great progress. Also, thanks to Ed and Grace for joining Joreen and I on Homeward Bound, and to my dear friends Rick and Irene Woodard for attending. Irene provided her V-8 vocal stylings on "Me and Bobby McGee." I've just booked another show at that venue for November 12th. It's so nice to play in a place full of sober, caffeinated non-smokers. Thanks also to TK, Mike Miller, Sandy Nork, Nancy and Bill Keener and those nice Camp Hill teenagers who were really into the music. There's pics floating around somewhere. I'll have to post them eventually.

And so we head into the summer. Joreen and the grandboys are pooling it up. Just Friends is playing a festival in Lykens tomorrow, and a wedding at Visaggio's on Saturday. As you know, we're not playing the fireworks at Hotel Hershey this year, but as the Chicago Cubs say, "Wait till next year." I'll let you know when stuff of interest comes up, and at some point I'm going to think about blocking off Greenwood Blvd. and doing a block party. That's something to get around to.