Boy's Logic Sucks

Last night, during band practice, Scott and I had a discussion about travel. "I always start packing a week before my trip," said Scott. I have to admit his news surprised me. I don't know why - it's not like I've known Scott to be particularly uncalculating - or even overly spontaneous... I guess I can't imagine anyone thinking so far ahead. "My wife always packs the hour before the trip," added Scott.

"I'm with Andie," I answered. "I never pack early. I hate packing."

"You might change your mind when I tell you this story," challenged Scott.

Apparently, Scott and Andie were getting ready for a flight out of Baltimore. Scott was packed. Andie wasn't. Before she could change that fact, she fell and broke her foot.

Scott drove her to the Emergency Room at the local hospital, promising he'd pack for his wife.

"There was no way I could pack for her. We were going to a wedding. That meant that I had to get the dress, the shoes and the jewelry... Everything..."

"How'd you do?" I asked.

You could tell that Scott wasn't quite over this terrorizing memory... "She said bring the tan sandals. Apparently that doesn't mean Flip-Flops.... She was really mad at me. I picked her up at the Emergency room - and we had to get to the airport quickly... When we got there, we had to go to the mall because I got everything wrong."

While I was thinking it was kind of cute that Scott even attempted to pack for his wife, Dave's mind was clearly spinning. I looked at Dave, "What would you pack if that were me?" I asked.

Dave shrugged before directing this comment to Scott: "You couldn't possibly get something like that right," Dave said. "It'd make your wife question your relationship...."

All I could think to say was, "Boys' logic sucks."

Rockstar: Kellincatty's Daddy

The other night Dave and I were invited to play in my hometown. We got the gig because of another gig. We got THAT gig because of my father (who consistently touts my band to all of his friends, or whomever). I secretly call him my agent. For example, once, he was fishing in the Chesapeake Bay. A news crew came along and interviewed him for a feature segment. My father was so excited that he gave the cameraman my number. “My daughter’s in television too! You should call her.”

I simply cannot believe the guy didn’t immediately rush to his satellite phone, call me up, and say, “So, hey baby, I hear you’re in Tee veeeee…”

Another time, I walked into a restaurant for Thanksgiving Dinner. About halfway through my turkey, I heard my band play in the speakers. My father had arranged for this, of course.

I’ve learned to kind to accept this behavior from my dad because I know it’s his way of showing his pride and love…

But this weekend, he came through for me in a way I didn’t expect, and just HAVE to tell you about.

Dave and I were going to do a guitar and bass thing for this gig. My father mentioned that his friend would be really disappointed if we didn’t do any banjo music. Fine, I thought. Dave could play banjo on a few songs and that would be that. I explained the change in set list to Dave.

“Kelly. We can’t play banjo without a bass. We’d have no low end.”

“Work it out with my father…” I told him.

So he did. Dave actually sat down with my father (an accordion player, btw), and taught him enough bass to get us through the banjo portion of the evening… My father, who’d never even held a bass, took to it immediately. Then Dave dropped the bomb, “So, you ready to play? Tonight?”

My father looked very nervous all of the sudden, but for some reason agreed.

Now, you need to understand that my father is not only talented, but also fearless. He’s picked up hundreds of animals including poisonous snakes… I once discovered that a raccoon had trapped itself into one of those large industrial trashcans. Without a second thought about disease, teeth, or claw, Dad reached into the container and tried to grab it. (To make a long story short, the nervous raccoon circled the can a few times, avoiding my father’s hand, and made the most hideous screeching noise I’ve ever heard. He eventually tipped the can so the animal could escape on its own… But you’ve got to hand it to him.

Anyway, I kind of thought he’d opt out when he had a chance to think about what he agreed to (come on. If someone taught me three or four notes on a violin and then asked me to perform those three or four notes two hours later, I'd think they were crazynutsycuckoo)– but not my father... When I told the audience that Dave taught Ol' Bill how to play a little bass, and would you please welcome him to the stage for his very first performance on bass, he jumped to his feet and “suited up.”

I’m so proud of my dad… It was a cool thing for him to support us – and a great moment for me. How much credit can you give a 69-year old man to do this?

After the gig, Dad’s friend came up to say hello to us, but didn’t talk long, “I have to go see your DAD!” he gushed. He walked away – but had to wait. A crowd of people surrounded him…. And – Dave and I were left completely alone to put instruments away…

But I loved it. I didn’t even have to drop any business cards. That evening was all about my Dad.

Rockstar: Kellincatty

At this weekend's star-studded gig, I was visited by my friend, Gwen, and her family - husband and two children. I dig Gwen's kids. When her oldest son, Jake was six, he knew all the presidents... At 10, he audited a college class about palentology - and knew most of the answers when the teacher asked questions. When he was in Kindergarten, Gwen sent me a report Jake wrote called "Dinosaurs You May Not Have Heard About..."

Not astonishingly, I learned about many dinosaurs I HADN'T heard of.

Gwen and I met several years ago. She was the marketing rep for a company I did a television show for. We became fast friends - and continue to talk (even though neither of us are in those old jobs anymore.)

Jake asked Gwen, "How do you know Kelly anyway?"

She explained that we used to work on TV shows together.

Then Jake asked the question that indeed, made me feel like I've done something grand and exponential with my life:

"When did she quit television to become a Rock Star?"

Jake is so freakin' brilliant. I just love him.

The Gig Leech

I don't have too much to say about this man I know named Billy, other than to describe what he does. He's a bongo player - who travels from band gig to band gig. The ony trouble is - he has no band. He's a gig leech.

I met him years ago at an open mic. He was the player who sat onstage as each and every performer took their turn. He played with the rockers, the punk kids, the folkies, the poetry-readers, the oldies, and the guy who plays for spare change at the local farmers' market. It's not that he's not polite - he always asks permission - but he's just there... I never thought too much about it till this weekend... When Billy showed up at my gig.

Now, understand, I already scheduled a guest performer (one of my clients - nice guy, pretty good guitar player - wanted to know if he could play when my band had a break... It was cool. He brought a lot of his friends, and everyone had a good time)

Billy also asked if he could play with us. "Um, Sure." I said. He proceeded to set up his bongo drums directly in front of where we were standing... "Um," I asked - "Could you move them back HERE?" I was dying. Scott and Dave looked at me as if I were crazy. "Kelly - you can't play bongo with Bluegrass..."

"What was I supposed to say?"

Scott attempted to comfort me, "I know it's hard, Kelly - but sometimes you just have to say no."

"Well, we'll see how it goes..."

Truth be told, it wasn't bad - he wasn't miked, he wasn't loud, and he didn't play every song. He was fine, actually... So no one got their feelings hurt.

Later Dave told me of another occasion where Billy asked to play with him and Fran (Before I joined the band) - "It was a nightmare, Kell" (Dave is sometimes dark, but I believe it could have easily been a nightmare. Playing with someone who doesn't know the arrangements is pretty tough, and my band's arrangements aren't really easy to do. It'd be like David Beckham asking Donovan McNabb if he could sit in for a few plays...)

The next night, Dave and I decided to stop for a drink. We didn't know it, but a popular (and really quite excellent) local band was playing that night. "Oh, good. I've been dying to hear these guys..." They started out playing Stevie Ray Vaughn stuff... and then.... something weird happened. Who walks 'round the corner but BILLY?

Dave looked at him, and to my amazement, said, "Wow. I just can't get rid of you!!! Do you play with this band?"

In true gig leech fashion, Billy said, "No, but I'm going to sit in at the end."

Maybe there's no harm in it... Truth be told, I didn't mind him being around - but maybe, just maybe - Billy should start his own band. And when he does, I'm crashing... "Hey, do you mind if I sing "She-Bop" with you and the bongo?

Hope you can make it to THAT gig.

Fall Festival

We gigged today at a township historical society fall festival. We love this place. It's so full of people who like the kinds of music we play!!!

It's also kind of fun to play at a place where we have scheduled breaks - that are also scheduled activites... Like Watermelon Eating contests.

It was also kind of fun playing at a farm. Here's some of the local wildlife. note the foal pony and the wild tiger!

After seeing the baby, we moved to the next stall where Sadie lived. She is an 11-month old donkey - who was if not adorable and a little bit hungry.

We also saw the largest goat I've ever come across - His name was Carlos - and he was giving people rides during the day's festivities. When I walked over to take the picture, I said to the man at the right, "I'd like to photograph this goat!."

He replied, "That's no way to talk about this woman..." sigh. Everyone's a comedian. Carlos and I weren't amused.

On a more serious note, the festival also had this 1915 hearse on display. I guess there is something to be said for traveling in style. Here's Dave and the buggy.


My only regret was not having enough time to purchase many of the lovingly fashioned handicrafts at the festival - Maybe next year - or better yet, Maybe I can make my own!

Hip to Be Square

Yesterday, Dave asked me to take a drive with him - he was playing a gig in Delaware with our friend, Don. I thought it was going to be interesting - Don asked a bunch of musicians who never play together to come and play together... I always wonder why that works out - but in Don's view - he only asks musicians he thinks are the best (which thrills Dave's bass-playing soul to know he's included in that category). Anyway - it usually works out pretty well for Don, so I kind of admire the hootzpah he has for not going through the work of having to do band practice every week - yet always being asked to come back and play again...

Anyway, I looked at the directions - it said they were playing at St. Andrews School... It said they were providing the background music for a square dance. It was all instrumental.... Isn't that crazy? Who's ever heard of a private high school sponsoring a square dance. I immediately discussed the matter with Audrey, salsa dancer extraordinaire... "It makes sense. America doesn't really have it's own group dance. Those kids NEED square dancing."

Ok. Before I get any further, I have to tell you what I only found out when arriving at St. Andrews - it was the school "Dead Poets Society" was filmed at. Isn't that weird? It's a lovely place - lots of lush lawns and gothic architecture... looks like a lot of schools in the east coast prep-type school region... (Here's a production still I found on the web - I have more photos -but I took them with Don's camera - and will post later when I get them back... And the dancing photos came from St. Andrew's website)

Back to the issue of high school students and square dancing. I met the caller, a guy named Alan - who liked to talk - so I asked, "Do students really like this?"

"Oh yes, he said, "When the Student Activites committee started this, they needed something to wear the kids out on their first night before classes. So they simply went around, told the kids they'd have a good time - and ever since then, the upper classmen just told the new students it was fun..."

I don't know that I believed him - but at 7 pm sharp, the hoarde of 300 or so students rushed the field, stood in a big circle, and waited for instructions. After the prerequesite do-si-do, prominade left and so forth, the kids enthusiastically formed squares and danced for the next few hours. They were so into the square dance, that even after their breaks, they, without being called, returned to the field, stood in squares, and waited for the caller to begin again. Who knew?

Dave: "If they asked my kid to do that, she'd be standing off to the side with her girlfriends thinking it was stupid..." But the truth is, if square dancing IS indeed, stupid, it's also fun - or so it looked from the faces of the kids who not only did the dance, but did all the dances, and loved doing them. They even made their best attempts at looking "western..." (which in some cases meant rolling up jeans and wearing wife beaters.)

So swing your partner, do-si-do - carpe diem and away we go...

_________

PS - On a final note of how different this shool was from MY school experience, the weekend "Dead Poets Society" hit the theaters was also the weekend I was slated to march in my high school graduation. I BEGGED my mother to let me go to the movies and skip the ceremony... But alas, she said the same thing when I volunteered to skip my college graudation, "Kelly, I did not suffer through four years of your education to miss your graduation..." So I had to wait until later to watch Robin Williams stand on a Desk at St. Andrew's School. I guess I'm just not a joiner - is that so wrong?

Look, Mom! I'm 20!

I must be 20 years old. Why else would I stay up till 4:30 AM and keep my 7:45 AM haircut, followed by meeting a bride to deliver her wedding album - and oh, by the way - I didn't finish the album...

So, what happened was - I spent the day at the Philadelphia Folk Festival (more on that later, when I'm not so bleary I remember that Tommy Hilfiger spells his last name with only one "L") - and everytime Dave and I got up to leave, someone else entered the campsite. At midnight, Scott came by with his family... Then, all of our Festival buddies showed up - by 3 AM, our campsite was packed full - and the happy inebriates in the back kept yelling, "Kell! Sing us a song!" (flattering, I'll admit - but y*a*w*n!)

Ok. So I got home at 4:30 and looked at the wedding album I had to fill. I did a few pages, then thought, "I'll just get up at 6, finish, get my haircut, and deliver..."

Just FYI, on the ride home from the festival, Dave wondered aloud why I just didn't cancel my appointment (I have this hairdresser I'll blog about someday - but suffice it to say that once you get an appointment, you keep it. Once Kelly Jo is your hairdresser, you may find that - even when you move two hours away, you still drive back for haircuts - and bring your friends)

So I wake up at the same time my cut is supposed to begin. I call Mike, the salon owner (he's straight - isn't that weird?) - Mike - I can reschedule if Kelly Jo is jammed, or come now."

"Come with a wet head," suggested Mike.

This leaves the issue of the empty album. I did the following. I'm not proud, and I will note this disclaimer: Do NOT attempt this yourself. Don't do it. It's really really stupid...

I put the book together en route to the salon - on highways, on side streets... I stuffed an entire album while driving - and as fate would have it - I am alive to tell the tale. Don't do it. Really. It's dumb.

But the book is delivered. I'm seriously going to bed now.

Another Duh

Last night my sister, Jill and nephew, TJ came to hear the tail end of my gig. I haven't seen TJ in awhile, but for his birthday, I sent him this cool clock I found at the Discovery Channel Store. Instead of batteries, it's powered by two liquids - water, and any other beverage or gooky solid of your choice. He's been particularly thrilled with this gift - which makes me extremely happy.

The other day, he decided he needed to show it to my sister's chemistry professor. The professor was so thrilled, he asked where he could get one. "I could have used this in class the other day. This is perfect..."

I asked TJ if he knew what to tell the professor. Yeah, I know where you got it," he gloated...

And without missing a beat, he said, "China..."

Duh.

Singin' In The Rain

This weekend, the band played for a friend of ours, a race promoter. He organizes runners and sponsors - and throws races called "The Ugly Mudder" and "Double Trouble." It's funny playing at such events, because - well, I only ever ran in college when I had to for a class - and even then, traded running for bicycling as soon as I learned that was okay. I now only run when I'm chased (which isn't very often at all)

Anyway, the race was held in a huge, beautiful state park - rain or shine... There was little shine. It poured. Hats off to my friend Karen, who ran 15K in the rain, came back covered with mud - and said, "This wasn't fun." Hats off to her for finishing - but the biggest hats off - was because she came to the race in the first place, knowing it would be difficult to run through the sog and bog of the state park. I honestly don't know what motivates dedication like that - Maybe it's what my artist friend John once explained to me, defining his own passion: "Kelly, artists create art. That's what they do." - With that in mind, runners run - and singers sing - even in the rain.

(NOTE: The band sounded pretty good - warm, damp weather seems to be a key to a good voice, although it threw the instruments into a bit of havoc.)

Ok - the funny thing about the afternoon were the prizes - Race winners enjoyed mason jars filled with Tootsie Rolls. First, Fran asked, "Kelly, what's with the Tootsie Rolls? Seems counter productive to runners..." I suggested that they were energy food. Fran, unsatisfied with the answer, conferred with the band expert, Scott, who then came to me and asked, "Why does Fran think I would know about the Tootsie Rolls? I shrugged... I really had NO CLUE as to why Tootsie Rolls would ever be a prize. (For the most part, can't think of any occasion in the last 20 years where where I've eaten one - or thought much about them at all...)

So I asked the promoter - "What's with the Tootsie Rolls?"

"Well," he thoughtfully replied. I braced myself for some secret racers' wisdom, or some bit of promoter tradition... "They're really just to provide a little color to fill the jar - and they're the cheapest candy I can fill them with."

"Oh."

A racer nearby was listening, and asked if he could have Hershey Kisses next year... The promoter completely ignored the comment, handed off the jar, and said, "Kell - I'll give you a check. I just have to get the checkbook from my girlfriend."

"I've heard that before," quipped Scott, jokingly...

At the end of the day, we returned home damp and a little muddy ourselves... Dave and Fran helped Scott change his shorted car battery (which Scott's cut of the take completely covered...)

So ends another chapter in playing in a promising local band. I'm so grateful we didn't get paid in Tootsie Rolls!

New Toys

I just bought a new lens for my camera - so naturally, I had to test it out. I'm posting a few of my shots. I started with my garden, but eventually abused my band... They tolerate me much better than I could ever hope for!

Here's Dave, wondering why he must be put through my photographic experiments...




Here's Dave, waiting desperately for Fran and Scott to arrive - He's really getting sick of having his photo taken.






Finally - After all that practice and clicking away - Fran konked out on the chair, and the rest of us played music and watched American Idol (my idea, btw... Dave calls A.I. "That Karaoke Show," and Scott doesn't watch a whole lot... See? I told you they tolerate me (because I feed them, I think.)

Please Don't Tell Anyone I'm Going to Be on TV

Ok. So y'all know I make pretty videos for a living. So when asked by our friend Phil to be on his local origination public access TV Show, I thought, "I'm SO over local TV..." But Dave and I love Phil - so we agreed to do it. His show features local musicians who write & perform their own stuff - and who wanna be on TV, and who love Phil. (did I mention that?)

Well, Two outta three wasn't bad enough to talk Dave out of doing this, so we agreed to perform. Last night, Dave asked, "Kelly, you don't WANT to be here, do you?" I assured him I was okay. The show went well enough. I was recorded. I'm going to be on television, singing songs I wrote - and rest assured, I predict that at least 5 weirdo's I know will approach me and say they watched the whole show... and proceed to tell me exactly what they think of me.... (and it'll take an hour per...)

I was once on a talk show, where I was enlisted as a last-minute substitute to discuss a trip to Haiti. I mumbled through the entire interview, and was shocked and appalled when someone approached me and commented, "Kell, I had no idea you were so articulate!" (Oh, dear! THAT was articulate?!!! I was doomed - and promised not to be on TV any more. Besides, I always think TV takes 3-D people, flattens them to 2-D, and makes them - ok me - look fat.)

OK - so why did I agree to do this?

Let me tell you a little bit about WHY I love Phil and agree to play at his open mics, and be on his show - He's got the absolute best poker face I've ever seen. Phil encourages the performances of everyone - from the great-greats to the piss-poors... Phil's Open Mic Nights attract all kinds - from all over - and I think his open mic is better than television...

When you show up, you'll get the following performers:

1) The Fabulous Regulars: They include Bob, who writes Texas-type songs, even though he lives in PA. He's great. In life, he's some kind of computer help-desk guy, so I'm sure it's a source of great material. Spider is a kid who I've known for a long time. He sings long, obscure songs on really expensive guitars. Amy and Karen are a sister act, who sing like angels - and do a lot of Indigo Girls-kind of stuff. The other night, a guy from New Jersey came and sang like a cross between Sting and Dave Matthews... Wow. You just have to love those moments.

2) The Quirky Regulars: The couple who always perform depressing renaissance songs on recorder and guitar for the rock n' roll crowd. The kid who wears the 80's fedora and vest - and sings folky versions of 80's songs by Culture Club and Daryl Hall. The old dude who plays Rock standards - in keys and rhythms I can neither fathom nor duplicate.

3) The Surprising Burn-Outs: Occasionally, in a rare moment of candor, Phil will tell Dave and I an amusing story about a burn out who wanders into the bar... For example, one night, a guy signed up to play. He was holding a guitar with a few strings missing. He approaches the stage and asks for volunteers to jam with him - He then proceeds to sing a song - but Phil quickly realized that the guy had no idea how to play guitar. "He's up there banging on strings - everyone else is playing, wondering what the heck was happening...."

The other night, Dave and I witnessed another burn-out - who will remain an equal source of wonder. I didn't catch his name - we'll just call him "Hippieburnoutguy."

He approached me in the lobby of the theater... His hair was stringy and long, he was over-tanned, had blurry tattoos on his arms, and wore a dirty, baggy t-shirt and faded jeans. "Hey," he started, "Where do you sign up to play? I just wanna share a few songs with everyone... Just a few. I don't want any money, I just wanna play - I'm not trying to get rich or anything - I just want to play a few tunes." We pointed at Phil. On his way to speak with Phil, he stopped a few other musicians and expressed his interest in playing music for free.

When he finally finds Phil, he repeated his story - and emphasized again the fact that he was not looking for payment. Phil, in all his amazing generosity, didn't even smirk.

"Sounds great," he enthused.

Hippieburnoutguy then proceeded onto stage, where he kind of spoke/sung a song, while occasionally raking the guitar strings with dirty fingernails. When he finished he smiled, "Thanks. I'm going to tune up a little bit for you." He actually giggled.

This was the bizarre part - and I'm sure was funnier in person than it'll be here - but he pulled a pitch pipe from his t-shirt pocket. He then blew a low "E," and hit the top string of the guitar. The tones weren't even close - his guitar was way outta tune. He smiled and nodded. Without turning the peg that would tune his "E" string, he proceeded to blow the next note on the pitch pipe. He then plucked, smiled, nodded, and never actually tuned anything. He proceeded through the remaining four strings in this manner. blow, pluck, smile, nod.... blow, pluck, smile, nod.... blow, pluck, smile, nod.... blow, pluck, smile, nod....

"This is great! I love this guy!" Dave enthused. Phil merely watched and smiled.

Hippieburnoutguy then proceeded to speak/sing/rake through a few more blues songs. I swear he sang one song twice in a row. He even "tuned" once more... It was absolutely both hysterically funny, and sadsadsad.

Meanwhile, Phil, Phil, full of Grace, merely sat there and listened - and applauded louder than anyone.

Phil later told Dave and me that Hippieburnoutguy was photographed onstage that night, and was published in the local paper the next day. "He got a photo *THIS BIG!*" Of the old guy who sang rock standards, Phil told a sad story: "He was scammed many years ago, and told to come out to California to play a showcase for record executives. It cost him a lot of money - and nothing of course, ever came of it, but - *the guy had the time of his life...*" I was very touched that Phil told the story without an ounce of ridicule...

"He had the time of his life."

So I'm going to be on a local cable access show... And it's not because I feel the need to be on TV - it's just because I appreciate what Phil's doing for people... and I guess, if you see it (like all local origination cable access shows, it'll be on a million and ten times over the course of a MONTH) - I hope you like it... Um. And if you have to mention it to me, I'm okay with hearing your opinion of the performance...

But if you tell me I looked thin, I'll love you forever.

Packed House

The band played for a *really* packed house last night. I've gotta say. I love packed houses for the obvious reasons - it's nice to play for a whole lotta people at once... but what's really great is that it was so loud in the bar, I didn't have to say a lot.

I'm not a big talker in front of people. I think it's more fun to sing what I've come to sing and check out. I mean - that's what they do on American Idol, right?

...And speaking of American Idol... I was finally told (even though I'm too old, and not even as cute as Ruben Studdard) that I should be on American Idol.

It's about time I was recognized! ha ha ha.

Ebay Addiction

I'm such a dork! As you read in the post below, Dave is selling a Lovely, like-new Fender bass because (as is the case of most musicians), he found something he likes more. (Yes, it's a banjo. It's on it's way to Dave as we speak). It was kind of funny because when he saw this particular banjo, he did something that I didn't expect - he called me. He didn't bid on it until he talked to me (man - do I feel special!)

"Kelly!" he exclaimed. He then proceeded to tell me the nuts and bolts story of this banjo. It's not like buying a vintage movie poster or old piece of jewelry - or even a Fender bass for that matter. Banjos are truly instruments for techies - because they can be customized.

Dave is just that sort of techie.... He has a drawer in his house filled with several distinct banjo parts made by banjoists around the country. He knows what each is - and can explain the subtle differences. If it's banjo bridges you'd like to discuss, just call Dave... "This one is kind of arched, Kelly - it keeps the distance of all the strings completely even... This one is a Snuffy Smith Bridge, made by blah-blah-blah. This one is low - so you can really move your fingers...." It's quite an education. Further, you have to know that all banjos have interchangable parts - so you can upgrade a so-so banjo with an expensive tone ring - new pot - or whatever.

The point of this discussion is that Dave found a banjo on ebay that was, in its original form, an okay instrument - BUT. The former owner installed a unique combination of excellent tone ring, new bridge, and a few other things that made the instrument irristible to Dave. "Kelly, it's gonna sing."

As if he needed my permission, he suggested he could sell a few instruments (the Fender is one of them) and just have the banjo at no real "cost." I said ok - like I could tell him other wise (yet was honored to be consulted) - "we" decided we'd put one bid on it and see how the chips would fall. They fell in Dave's favor... because no one else bid on it (because no one understood the combined components made this instrument kind of special.) So he'll have yet another one in his already large collection (A guitar dealer once told me that all guitar players NEED four guitars... I have no idea how that number translates to banjo players, but my guess is it's much, much higher - maybe 8).

Ok. Now I have to get to the part about the Ebay addiction. I thought DAVE had it badly - but it turns out, I may be worse. I was checking his Fender auction - and wanted to see what the current buyer was willing to pay - in other words, I wanted to know his top bid... It wasn't that high...

There's no way of finding this out, however, without actually PLACING a bid, which I did. I was outbid. So I knew there was more... So I bid again....

To make a long story short, I am now the top bidder of Dave's Fender Bass.

Dave was very kind in telling me that if I won it, he'd cut me a deal on shipping...

Dave Picks with The Greats

I sent Dave to a banjo workshop with Tony Trishka, one of the world's best banjo players. (It's Dave's birthday present - even if Dave's birthday isn't till June). If you listen to NPR's 'Car Talk,' you've heard Tony. He plays the theme song. Tony is the inspiration of Bela Fleck, and all the banjo greats you HAVEN'T heard... And he's nice. Here are some photos of Tony, Dave, and Tony playing Dave's banjo.

(Thanks to our friend Don, for taking pics!)

Girl Interrupted

Life has such a way of changing my plans.... And it seems every time I have an overbooked weekend, something happens, and nothing goes according to schedule. This weekend, it was all about illness... For some reason, I've developed yet another cold (Could it be that I should've had a flu shot? My doctor said I probably caught it from the generous children I videotaped last week). I was so sure it was a sinus infection that I ran to the doctors for some fast remedy. "I'm sorry, Kelly. I see a lot of this run through my office, and I'm afraid you have a cold."

I also had a gig on Friday - and was so worried I wouldn't be able to sing. It's bad enough I'm short a guitar player (Fran is still in Singapore, living a life at a luxury hotel that I remain unaccustomed to) - In addition, I'd volunteered to cook at a camp I used to work for. In addition, I was bringing my nephew with me. I was thoroughly looking forward to spending some time with him. Following cooking, I was going to watch the Superbowl with Dave and his father.

To make a long story short, I managed to get through the gig. I sang for three hours before my throat began to ache (and hasn't stopped). My sister called late in the day to tell me my nephew was also ill and wouldn't be able to come with me. I cancelled my Superbowl plans, too...

I will say Dave took good care of me yesterday - and brought me soup... (Isn't that nice?)

I'd try to nap, but I had a work issue and needed to go into the office for awhile this afternoon (It's amazing what one can accomplish when no one else is around) -

I'm sorry to be such a whiny-puss, but between the coughs, congestion, and cancellations, I'm just so... interrupted. sigh.

Scott Likes It

When I talk about my band – I know I usually dish on Fran. This time, I’m telling you about Scott and Dave.

Scott is the band’s youngest member. He’s 26 or something. He and Dave have formed their own mutual admiration society. They get along very well – at times, too well…

Scott plays bass, for example. He owns a classic EBO – which a friend once destroyed by slamming the hood of his trunk right on the gig bag. Scott loved the bass enough, however, to hang on to for years and years. “I can fix it,” Dave offered. Scott had nothing to lose, so he handed the bass to Dave. As the weeks went by, the band would occasionally receive an update on the health of the EBO – until one day, it was returned to Scott.

Now, Scott plays his old bass all the time… He loves Dave for fixing it. Dave loves Scott because Scott likes everything Dave likes… and supports Dave in nearly every new bass Dave would like to purchase.

Last year, Dave bought the world’s ugliest 80’s metal-dork bass. (I wish I had a photo of it…) He showed it to me. “You’ve gotta be kidding, I said.”

“Well,” Dave replied, “Scott likes it.”

It began. Everything I hated was fine with Dave because Scott likes it… “You’re not wearing that shirt, are you?” “Well, Scott likes it…” I’d been telling Dave for awhile not to wear certain socks with certain shorts and certain shoes. It wasn’t until Scott laughed at him that he wore only sandals with shorts. I couldn’t figure out if Dave was doing this to anger me or – if he really valued Scott’s opinion over mine… but every time a band disagreement over a song, a bass, or something came up, if I was the dissenter, I’d lose, because…

Scott likes it…

Scott-Schmott.

The other night, after finishing a lot of freelance work and a huge project, I thought I deserved a present. I bought myself the Sex & The City box set. I love that show!

On the way out of Best Buy, I got a call from this man who's organizing the party my band is playing for tonight. It's a political rally. He asked if my roots band could play "God Bless America." I said I'd call the band and ask them if we could quickly work up a version of the song that wasn't too embarassing. I called Scott first.

After talking about the song, I mentioned the purchase. “You know,” Scott said, “My wife loves that show – and I might be the only man to admit it, but it’s really well written and I love it.” I understand this.

I’d only started watching S&TC when they aired it on TBS – I don’t subscribe to HBO… so I turned into an overnight fan. I would sometimes make Dave watch it. In the beginning, he hated it… But soon, I would hear comments like, “You know, the readhead’s the prettiest…” or “I like the brunette. She’s funny…”

I knew he was hooked. Yesterday, I played the Season Two DVD. Dave sat down and watched for a long time… I made a comment to him. “Shhh!” he said. “The show is on!”
I smiled and sang a little song, “You like it, you like it… Ha ha ha ha ha ha!”

"Shut up." Dave said. "You like this show, you like this show!" I crooned. Dave blushed. “Don’t tell the guys, ok?”

And then, I got to say the phrase I’d been dying to say for a long time.

Scott likes it!

Setting the World on Fire - And Not In A Good Way

I know you guys all love Fran, so I thought I’d tell you a Fran Story. Fran is the guitar player in my band. He’s a very good guitar player. He has very specific tastes regarding what constitutes a good musician…

But for Fran, life exists in the extremes, so if you don’t find yourself in his range of musical (or aesthetic) taste, Fran would like to set you on fire.

Examples of musicians Fran would like to flambe': Eddie From Ohio (great musicians – but they get a goofy/chatty at concerts.), Dave’s former Band mate (who once called Fran “Ace.”), Bela Fleck (I’m so sorry, Bela! I love you – It’s just Fran. It’s Fran.),and Rushad Eggleston (once again, great musician. He’s a cellist. Maybe second to Yo Yo Ma, but again, his stage presence, if you’re Fran, warrants FIRE.)

Being a team player, I sent Francis three top ten lists: One consisted of Actors who might be set on fire (although I am against charbroiling as form of death). The second, non-celebrities I would definitely set on fire (I have this brother-in-law who’s just out of hand…).

The third I will share with you. In a toast to pacifism, I salute:

The Top Ten Musicians I Would SAVE in the Event That They Are Being Set On Fire By Some Jackass:

Bruce Cockburn
Adam Duritz
Adrienne Young
Ollabelle
Antje Duvekot
Lyle Lovett
Bono
David Bowie
Tie: Cyndi Lauper/Gwen Stefani
Tie: Laurie Anderson/Jeff Coffin

Feeling Fat

I have to tell you guys. Today, I am wearing a pair of jeans I haven't been able to get into for over a year. This should be a moment of personal triumph... A moment of recognizing that I actually DO have self control... A moment of extreme pleasure in starting to actually see a goal...

But I'm feeling really fat. And I think I know why:

I was at a Tom Rush concert last night in Philadelphia with my very fit (and committed to his workouts) bandmate, Fran. A man named Chris (friend of Fran's) met us at the venue. Chris, like me, could stand to lose a few pounds, which make us pretty normal, I guess..

Fran is suddently single after 30 years of marriage. His ex-wife is one of those very selfish and useless women. What I mean is simply that she can't seem to make a decision or a positive move on her own, yet will make those around her miserable until she gets what she wants. She doesn't finish what she starts. Her redeeming quality is her appearance - she's a yoga instructor. She's very trim and very fit. She's attractive.

I ask: If you're not nice, independent, or able to function properly on your own, what difference does it make if you're thin and pretty or not?

Ok. So Fran is at the stage in divorce-hood where he'd like to have some sort of working relationship with a woman. His criteria, however, are probably impossible to meet. Let me first tell you my personal criteria, just so you'll have something to compare. Mind you, I'm not single, but if I was, this is what I'd be looking for (and this is what I'm dating):

1) Unmarried.
2) Straight.
3) Doesn't live with his mother.
4) Must have a good working job.
5) Must have intelligence and humor.

Fran's (Fran is just over 50, mind you)

1) Age: 28-40.
2) Should be too old for his 21 year-old son to date.
3) Must have body like ex-wife's.
4) Must have qualities highly prized by the superficial mind (his words, not mine).

Ok. So Chris, Fran and I are sitting at the bar, waiting for Tom Rush to appear. A woman in her 40's approaches the bar. She was brunette and thin, and wore a loose brown sweater and pants. She's attractive enough for Chris to notice, although I was the one to speak with her. She wasn't approaching the bar for any other reason than to order something from the bartender. I moved my stool a little and called the bartender over. She ordered, thanked me and left.

Chris: Fran, you should talk to her.
Fran: Naw. She needs to lose 30 pounds.
Kelly and Chris: WHAT???!!!
Fran: And she needs some ab work.
Chris: She doesn't need to lose 30 pounds!
Fran: Ok, well 20.
Kelly: She seems nice
Chris: And she's pretty. If you don't want to talk to her, I will - I like her.
Fran: Fine. She's yours
Kelly (to Fran): You're an idiot.

Normally, I don't call people idiots out loud. I might think it, but I rarely, if ever, verbalize it. This time, however, I not only meant it, but meant it with a vengeance. Chris was a little put-off as well. He was nicer, however, and talked about the importance of meeting someone who was both pleasant and interesting. I however, called my friend Fran an idiot. I really meant it. I still mean it. I still love Fran, but I think he's an idiot. There. I said it.

I know what put the ire in my fire... I really think that - in spite of fitting into pants that I couldn't fit into for more than 365-and-one-quarter days, Fran made me feel fat...

And that I need ab work.

And that I need to lose 30 pounds.

Today, I told this story to another band member. I asked, "How is it Fran lets us play in a band with him and be overweight?" He didn't know. "I don't know how he plays in a band with a porker like me. You and Dave are much better off than I in that department."

How is it that only after Scott said this, did I feel better?

Ok. Now that I've vented - I guess I still feel pretty damn good about fitting into these pants - ab work or not.