July 25, 2006

11:13 p.m.

Midwest Adventure
(Deep breath: Long-ass entry, covering 2 weeks.)

First Day (a couple of weeks ago, now)

I had to go all the way back home last night from the band's house (50 minutes each way) to retrieve my toiletry bag, which I'd left in the bathroom. It has everything in it -- asthma meds, hair dryer, alarm clock, mouth guard, earplugs, and birth control pils, in addition to countless other critical things. I'd already had a liesurely dinner with Rose on the way out there, and it was 10:30pm before I realized I'd left it behind. So I was a little short on sleep this morning.

In spite of getting up in plenty of time, though, we left about 45 minutes later than planned. Since Chris has been on a diet they've had to allot all kinds of food preparation time when we travel. They brought a big cooler this trip. Anyway, all that, plus stops at the bank and post office, set us back a bit.

And 80 through Pennsylvania is beautiful, but the road is riddled with construction areas, which had us going as slowly as 5mph for several miles at a time. I had plenty of time to look at the rolling green of the farms -- wondering how they liked having their cornfields butt up against the interstate like that. By the time we'd gone about 300 miles (out of the 600 planned for the day), I told them through the walkie talkie that I thought I'd stop short of the destination (Carol's cousins) and take a room somewhere. I needed the privacy and space to think about all that's happening around me now. Carol wrote out directions for me to the venue tomorrow night, and I'll meet them there. She said she wished she hadn't promised to show up at her counsins', or she'd do the same thing. But they'd invited their kids over and expected a little party.

Meanwhile I found a Super 8 about 20 miles past Youngstown that is within walking distance of a grocery store. There were no rooms left on the first floor, he said, but when I explained that I had a lot of equipment to bring in, he let me have the handicapped room on the corner. It couldn't be better; my car's right outside and it was easy to bring in my 3 instruments, 3 pieces of luggage, and the small cooler and bag of other road food. I was here by 7:30, and it's been nice to be silent and contemplative at the outset of our 12-day trip.

The subjects on my mind are two: Rose and Mike, and then the man I named Janus a while back, but he doesn't like the nickname so I'll call him James instead. James drove out, on very little sleep, to see us play last Wednesday -- it was 99 miles each way for him, and he wasn't sure he was going to come. But I think he wanted to prove something, like if he said he'd show up he was as good as his word. That rather impressed me. It was also good to see him again -- I'd had the idea just a couple of days before, realizing that it wasn't outrageously far from where he lives and it would mean we'd see each other before the end of the month.

It wasn't a typical gig for us -- it was outdoors at a training school for developmentally disabled folks, and also open to the community. We played the first few songs through a raging thunderstorm which drove everyone on the lawn sideways under a pavilion, so we were oriented the wrong way and had to keep noodging away from the increasingly wet ground under our gazebo roof. Large garbage bags were brought out to cover the speakers, which got soaked. No one was electrocuted, though, and the rain finally let up and we did finish our two sets.

I was glad James saw this sort of paltry gig first -- he's seen us do very short sets at two fundraisers/functions for the organization for which he's a board member, but never a whole gig. But this means that from now on all the gigs he sees will be magnificent by comparison. He was a rock and roll musician in his youth, so he does understand that gigs are all different. He also plays percussion, but I haven't heard him yet...

After our date at the Aquarium, I was beset with about a week of ambivalence. I just wasn't sure how much I liked him, or whether I was just being lured by kissing him in the car before we parted. I didn't want to lead anybody on, and I was scared of seeing him again, frankly. He's also needing to spend much time working on self, learning to live outside of a couple, going to divorce recovery sessions, launching his kids into their new lives. So. Easy answer: keep it cool and occasional, no pressure on either side.

Except I couldn't see how I really felt, because I mainly just felt scared.

But we talked a few times, and I kept being impressed by his intellect, his smarts, his compassion, forthrightness, and humor. By Monday I thought it might be nice to ask him to the gig. By 10:30 Wednesday everyone had cleared out and we were kissing in the parking lot like kids. And it wasn't just about the kiss; I really liked whom I was kissing. I guess I don't feel so ambivalent any more.

I always thought I didn't want to ever date anyone who had kids of any age. They just don't fit into my life; I don't know how to make room for someone's children. But his oldest daughter, who just moved to Portland for grad school, is a linguistics major, and she also makes books. Being a language fanatic who makes books, I'm finding I'd really like to talk to her about all that. Maybe one day I will.

And as for the end of the month, I guess I'll accept his invitation and go to the beach house in Rhode Island for a day, unless I'm just too pooped between tours.

As for Rose, we had a long talk over dinner (buffalo burgers -- these ROCK). She said at one point that she hopes this isn't all just a big midlife crisis that she'll look back on and regret later. I hope not, too. She's forfiet 14 years of marriage and a lot of work. There's no going back. Mike is, and always will be, convinced that she was having multiple affairs for years and that her current involvement has been going on for almost a year and a half. I take silent exception to those conclusions, and his credibility is reduced in my mind by his refusal to admit that heavy drinking has caused any problems in the relationship. He's not a falling-down drunk or anything but he does consume a startling amount of wine every day, despite a heart condition and many, many discussions (and fights) between him and Rose, and incidents where he couldn't remember what was discussed the night before because he was too drunk to retain it.

It's a rough road for them both, but he's decided to keep the house, into which he's put so much of his inheritance, and buy Rose out for her half. That means she'll be condo-shopping by the end of the summer.

It still all feels so sudden, and she admits that she expects a crash in the next few months, once she's taken care of the business of moving somewhere permanent and has time to let it sink in. I look at her and don't recognize this single-woman-to-be. She and Mike were my foundation, my only remaining family unit. I think something is coming for me, too; not a crash, necessarily, but a realization, an epiphany, or maybe something slower, a sea change. All I know is that it will be fundamental and profound, and my whole world will look different and I will be moving through it in a different way.

I think it is subtly affecting the way I am approaching James as well. I will need more family ties as the years now unfold. Perhaps this is why, this year, I decided to become open to love again. My circle is a narrowing gyre; I must find ways to keep it from closing.

********

Sunday, 7/16
5:44pm Central Time

I'm staying an extra day at our hosts' house in Galena, a town of about 3500 people, built on hills. It's scorching hot outside this week but I did manage a ramble down to the main street after lunch, where many people were going in and out of shops. The whole effect of this multi-level town, with its steep roads and sharp turns, is very European. I imagined babies earning their "hill legs" the way babies born on ships adapt to the rolling of the sea before they can walk on land.

We had a lovely gig last night at the Episcopalian Church just down the (steep, curvy) street. It was the last night of their week-long Galena Festival, traditionally a classical music festival but one that we somehow squeaked into. I wasn't familiar with the Episcopalian service, but apparently it's about one degree removed from Catholic. The church is simply magnificent, very old world, the walls ornately handpainted in dark and light teal and dark rose, with rosy-copper colored 3-D rosettes at the apex of each painted arch, and gold-leafed organ pipes. Acoustics? Heavenly. Sound guy? Magnificent. We thoroughly enjoyed our show. It was an older audience but they seemed to love everything we did.

We stayed in this large, lush, old-world house, under ceilings that must be at least 11 feet high, lots of gorgeous original woodwork, and beautiful antiques. My room is way up at the top, up two flights of 19 stairs and then some. My mates have driven on this afternoon to visit with her relatives in Indiana; I opted not to go with them, as it's so many hours out of the way. Instead I'll stay here again tonight, and then head to Saugatuck tomorrow for a couple of days near Lake Michigan. Mike says it's a town like Northampton, with lots of local artisans and interesting shops. I hope to find housewarming gifts for him and for Rose, even though Mike will be staying at the house. He's going to have a re-karmalization party when everything is settled. I also hope to do a little writing, maybe develop a couple of ideas for songs. Or I might just sit by the water and read all day.

Our hosts here are very nice; we had a lovely visit last night after the gig. They pulled out the wine and cheese and crudite, and we got to discuss Chris's diet for an hour, as he hasn't been eating cheese or drinking alcohol. He did a touch of both last night, just a few bites, just a glass. I even tasted the cheese (which was amazing). Carol said he woke up with a little reflux and a whisper of hangoverlike feeling this morning, reinforcing their conviction that he cannot tolerate dairy. (Ironically, some of his family were dairy farmers, and his mother has always had terrible sinus issues.)

Somehow we found a way to eat today; Carol and I had lunch at an Italian place where I had a spot-hitting chicken picatta, and Carol managed a bunless burger and was still hungry. Chris found some other place that did a great grilled vegetable and chicken plate for him. Poking around in various shops did not entice me to spend any more money, however, and the day was so hot I was bedraggled when I returned here.

I guess I'm thinking about food now because it's 6:00 and I'm eating here but have no idea when that is. They were very nice to let me stay another night, so I'm trying to be low maintenance and low key. It's weird to be here without my bandmates, whom I let be the more sociable guests. Have I forgotten how to make conversation? No; but our genteel couple are quiet, too, and seem to have their own things to do.

I'm thinking abuot James a lot, and he is visiting my dreams in innumerable small ways. I had the waking up late dream again this morning, about ten minutes before I actually needed to wake up. I dreamed it was five minutes before we had to leave for the church, and I kept saying, in a panic, "This is not good. This is not good!"

Carol has a very peculiar recurring dream, which she's had ever since she married Chris. Well, it's not a dream exactly, because she wakes up. But in the state of semi-wakefulness she realizes she's naked and sleeping next to some guy (whom she does not recognize as Chris). What in the world will Chris say? she thinks. The inappropriateness of the situation alarms her, and she goes to put on a t-shirt, knowing that if she's only wearing something there won't be anything wrong. Then she goes back to sleep, never realizing she's at home in her own bed with her own husband. It's almost like sleepwalking.

She had this one again last night, but she got up to pee and woke up just enough to recognize reality. We puzzled over this at lunch and I said I wondered if it was a remnant from her past, when she didn't feel she could fully trust anyone with her "nakedness," her whole heart and self, because of being burned so badly in relationships. But she has it about four times a year still, and they've been married nine years.

Dreams... interesting stuff.

********

10:43 CST

Our hosts took me out to dinner at a Mexican place nearby, where I had the perfect meal for $10. Skillet sauteed vegetables (heavy on the snap peas and broccoli, plus sweet carrots, baby corn, water chestnuts, mushrooms, scallions, red peppers) and shrimp, over yellow rice, hold the cheese. It was huge and half of it is in the fridge.

After dinner we walked along the dyke, saw General Grant's statue and a beautiful fountain, and had a great view of the town. This place looks unreal, it's so pretty, nestled on a hillside with lots of old brick buildings and church spires thrusting gracefully up. They kept nodding and waving to people we passed. Maron is the town librarian, so she knows everyone who checks out a book. (I know, "Marion the librarian," but she's actually Maron.) Part of Field of Dreams was filmed here, and she said a couple of the stars stopped into the library. It's weird that there are two gourmet chocolate shops on the main street and I didn't go into either of them -- though I had stopped into the popcorn shop to take a few whiffs. I know I'll eat chocolate again; just not now.

After we got home, we sat on their front porch and watched the fireflies as it slowly got dark. Cicadas were replaced by crickets, and I told them about how crickets sing and promised I'd send them the web link to the Robbie Robertson clip. We drank a glass of wine and felt the muggy summer day turn into a slightly cooler summer night. No bugs bugged us.

I'll aim to leave around 9am tomorrow, and make the perhaps 6-hour drive to Saugatuck. Even with the time change, it should get me there before rush hour, if the road conditions are favorable.

I didn't know if I'd be a successful solo guest, but it worked out fine and we had a lovely evening. They're such nice people.

And I'm hoping my long nap of this afternoon has worn off and I'll be able to sleep soon.

********

In the Musty Room

I drove eight hours today to land at the Timberline Motel, a place with red doors, musty rooms and a big price tag. Everything in Saugatuck is pretty expensive -- I don't even want to know how much the little inns by the river are -- but I wasn't inclined to go any farther. The town is just as Mike said, full of artsy little shops and restaurants, but after a couple of hours of walking around there, I felt cheated of a certain amount of satisfaction. I'd thought it was right on Lake Michigan but it's actually on a tributary a few miles inland, so there's no big water or beach. The weather is still muggy and torrid.

I had a little comedy of errors when I got here. The proprietor is Indian and his accent is very heavy, even for me to distinguish. I booked myself in and thought he said room ten. So I took the key and it opened room ten, and in went all my stuff. I then wanted to drive to the town proper, and noticed when I left the room that the button lock was unlocked. Thinking that happened when the door is opened with the key, I locked it and went on my way.

When I got back a couple of hours later, my key wouldn't open the door nohow. I looked at it for the first time and saw that it was for room twelve. I put together the hypothesis that the room had originally been unlocked, and I only thought I'd gotten in with the key, but then locked myself out upon leaving. I caught the manager as he was walking briskly down the front of the building on some other urgent errand, and he was a bit flustered when I tried to explain that I couldn't get back into "my" room because I had the wrong key. He asked me to wait in the office for a minute, so I did.

Shortly he returned, and I explained again that I'd gone into the wrong room to start with because I misunderstood him, and my things were in room ten but I had the key to twelve. He proceeded, in return, to completely misunderstand me, and showed me the register saying that no one was booked into room ten today. He told me this about three times. I kept saying, "I know there's no one in room ten, but my luggage is in there, and I either need a different key or I need to change rooms!"

At last he walked down to the room with me, where I'd placed the "do not disturb" sign on the door. This disturbed him. It made him think there was someone in the room, so he knocked hesitantly. I told him one more time that there were NO PERSONS in the room, just MY LUGGAGE. He opened the door with the proper key, and laughed with relief to find that he wasn't bursting in on someone.

So he gave me the key to room ten, apologized, and went away.

The cell phone service is pretty choppy in the room, but a little better in my car, so I went out there to book a different hotel about 20 miles away for tomorrow. Fairfield Inn by Marriott. You can pretty much rely on them.

********

Tonight I have a ravenous craving for Cheerios. I did actually get some Cheerios, so I am able to appease the longing, but... you know, it's often hard to find wheat alternatives on the road and I haven't been eating much in the way of grains. Even Cheerios, I read here on the box, have some wheat starch in them. I wonder if that has gluten.

********

I've talked to Steve twice. I didn't want to continually call him from the road, so I only called him once, and then he called me once. He said he's emailed me a few times, though I haven't been able to check at all this trip. Maybe at the Fairfield Inn by Marriott, the hotel on which one can pretty much rely. I was going to call him back tonight but it's muggy in the car and I'm tired of having all these guys to call now. For heaven's sake, there are four now who want me to keep in touch with them, and while Dar is the only one I feel connected to daily, it still amounts to an alarming number of males on the periphery of my touring. Time to jus turn the phone off and watch tv!

I envisioned this two-day Walkabout as a time when I'd read, maybe work on songs, dabble my feet in the waters of Lake Michigan and feel like I was on vacation. I think that won't exactly happen, but at least I found something to eat today and I have a place to sleep. And I avoided an even longer journey by not going to Carol's Uncle and Aunt's house in Illinois. And even though these hotels are expensive, the price of gas to Grayville and back to Portage might be equivalent.

Later -- talked to James awhile. It was good to hear his voice. I think I'll practice a bit.

********

I woke up less optimistic today, and I wonder if it's because of the Cheerios rage I had last night. I so craved grains, after having nearly none for weeks, and Cheerios (or the store brand, as it turned out) didn't look too bad on the label. I had a bowl with my leftover veggies & shrimp for dinner, and then snacked on some more later on. This morning I was more bloated than I've been since I went off wheat. My fingers are swollen under my rings.

I'm looking forward to being home. That's not for another week. I really do want to see James next Wednesday but I might not be able to swing it. It means I'd have to do laundry and all errands and catch-up on Tuesday, after getting home late Monday; Thursday is packed because I have to work and then go to Kripalu and I'd like to get there by dinner time if possible -- means I have to be ready to load out before I go to work at 10am. I'm thinking it might be overly ambitious to be gone all day Wednesday.

Plus I'm not ready to meet the kids yet, I think. Hair in between cuttings, muscles lax, feeling odd about my age and the changes. I don't even know James that well yet. How can I be ready to face the family?

Last night I was so eager; this morning, what am I thinking? I barely know this guy. What if he goes back to being the shell of who I thought I discovered? I think I've been swayed by loneliness and desire, unattached to real information and logic. That's what happened with Will. Although there was also the element of beauty with him -- I found him inexpressibly lovely. I don't find that with James, though he has a great smile and a few other attractive things about him, not the least of which is his ever unfolding mind. Last night I learned that he can read Middle English, and he speaks some Latin and took eight years of German so he could read his favorite German authors in their native language. At one point he recited a bit of the Canterbury Tales to me, and I actually said, "If you ever say that to me in bed, I'll absolutely melt." He said he'd remember that, and later I was sorry I'd blurted it out. That kind of thing should still be private with me, in case it's only my fantasy and it turns out I really don't want him. Shit. This comes of talking too much.

Little carb crash? Is this what happens? Then why do I want nothing more than to crawl into that box of Cheerios and eat my way out?

There are fake roses here in a vase, and the roses have fake dewdrops on them. It amazes me that so many people would go to such trouble for something so obviously bogus. Am I supposed to sit here and think of real roses when I see these? Imagine how nice real roses would be, if these were only real, instead of the charlatans they are?

Am I supposed to think of me and James and imagine the relationship that I really want, the one that it would be if I were only sure it were with him?

Ach. Good morning, ambivalence; sit down.

********

Several days later...

The very next day I had so much fun. On the way to a far better hotel experience, I found the road to a state park that had walking trails through the forest that ended up at the beach on Lake Michigan. I walked barefooted through the surf for half an hour or so. Then I drove up to Holland, which boasts the Holland Village, a tribute to all the Dutch settlers in the area. It's modeled after, you guessed it, a Dutch village. I took lots of pictures of my new pink ratty (another beanie baby I rescued from a gift shop) on all the exhibits. It was very kid-oriented but still fun. I saw Dutch folk dancing with wooden shoes (which looked alarmingly like that parody opening dance in "Spamalot") and could have bought any number of cheeses in the gift shop, had I been eating cheese.

I also went to a local repertory theatre's production of "Shakespeare in Hollywood," which was very funny. All in all I had a lovely time with myself, and even felt far less ambivalent about other things. Okay, about James. In fact I kept thinking how much nicer these kinds of things are to do with someone else.

Yesterday I met up with my band again, here in Portage, Michigan, just south of Kalamazoo. We did a radio spot this afternoon and went for an early sound check. The borrowed speakers were shit; the horns didn't work and the monitors were hideous. After a lot of fussing around, Chris decided to try the house system in the church -- which consisted of one Bose speaker up at the ceiling. Amazingly, it sounded good. He switched a few cables and we started over, EQing all the low end out of the crappy monitors and boosting the highs until we sounded almost like human beings. As long as people sat in the third row or farther, they'd be able to hear a pretty good sound.

By the time we got back to the house to "rest," we had only an hour before we had to eat dinner and leave again. I didn't sleep, but only "rested" as I do in these situations, being a little anxious. I felt tired and sluggish all day. The gig was pretty good in spite of everything.

Our host's daughter, who is a budding singer songwriter whom we heard two years ago when we were here, has a five year old daughter who is largely being raised by our hosts, the grandparents. I'm sleeping in the kid's room; she was staying with her "second grandparents," not blood relations but good friends, but Aurora insisted, pleaded, begged to stay here at the house tonight. She's been pretty hyperactive; it's midnight and she's not asleep yet. But at least she hasn't been trying to get into her room, where I am. Liam, the grandpa, our host, is no disciplinarian, I see. In fact we think he has some secret sorrow; he seems subdued and depressed, though nice. To me he seems resigned; his daughter won't be a full time mom, and he and his wife are stuck raising a rambunctious kid who cries every time her mommy leaves again. He's a wonderful luthier, so we know he finds joy in that; but here at home he's quiet, resigned. His wife is a minister and a weaver, and she's away for 3 weeks at some conference or something, so the house is in a bit of "bachelor shambles." Every time he leaves for somewhere, lights get left on, the coffeepot is on, the garage door is left open. He's obviously somewhere else.

Anyway, we're off to northern Michigan tomorrow. About a five hour drive. No gig until Saturday -- the last one of the tour, thank goodness. I can't wait to get home, albeit briefly.

One good thing is, at the last hotel and here, I've had email access. James and I have been able to communicate in writing a little, in addition to a couple of phone calls from the last few days. I tell him my anxieties and he responds with a voice of reason.

********

Friday, Mackinaw City

Uneventful and rather pretty drive here. My IBS has been very troublesome on this trip -- I think it's been worse in general, the last few months. Its trajectory is a complete mystery to me. One woman we stayed with has it, and I refrained from mentioning my own symptoms when the subject came up, but I wonder if talking about it would have illuminated anything for me. It's only Rose's surmise that it's what I have -- since I have no medical insurance, there's no way to afford the tests that would confirm or deny it. But GI function is totally unpredictable now. The trip has been a bit more expensive, too, as I haven't been able to tolerate sharing a bathroom with my 2 mates. (It's hard enough doing your daily duty with two people outside the door anyway.) So we've had to get 2 rooms when staying at hotels. I wonder if, in the long term, this will affect my ability to tour.

There has been a lot of stress this trip, which I'm sure has contributed to the problem. We're not making much money; August is middling for gigs, and I have exactly two in September. I'm running low on money, the age-old terror. Rose and Mike's breakup, of course, has the earth shifting on its axis, too. Ironically, the other subject that has caused me some anxiety -- namely James -- is also offering what comfort I have in these days. He impresses me at every turn by being smart, saying the right thing, thinking the right way, and all the while laughing at how atypical such reasonableness is to his impulsive Scorpion temperament. I think it comes from post-divorce therapy; he's become self-aware enough to be deliberate about healthy choices. He's right when he says it's good that we live three hours apart, that it respects my need to keep to myself a lot, and nurtures the same facility in himself. He's right; if he were chasing me I'd run like Thumper. But because I have all the space in the world, I crave more of his company.

Carol reminded me that, only a few weeks ago, I was casually saying that I wasn't going to fall in love with him or anything. After the Aquarium date that's really how I felt. Sometime between then and the gig he came to, something shifted a little. Just a little. The jury's still out. It may be out for a long time, since we live so far apart.

But it's like craving Honey Nut Cheerios, persistent and promising. Except I'm sure what I'm craving is still halfway made up by me, because I don't have enough information about him yet. I hate that part.

And I don't want to get in the way of his post-divorce self actualization.

Last gig tomorrow, in the park. I hope we sell stuff; last night the sales were paltry, though I did sell a poetry book. Anyway, this motel room smells really good (read: neutral), it's well appointed, and we got a really good rate for the two rooms thanks to Chris who is not afraid to negotiate. And no fake flowers. Tomorrow we'll probably go to Mackinac Island (that's pronounced "Mackinaw," like the town, for some reason) and walk around (there are no cars there). Carol is yearning to horseback-ride.

********

After Home

It was a record 17-1/2 hour travel day for me on Sunday. I didn�t fall asleep and I didn�t need to stop for a nap � maybe the beaded seat cover the Eggman lent me helped. But it was fucking long. We started out around 7:30am, and I got in at 1:00am.

Meanwhile our park gig was okay; saw a rainbow over the water. The hotel was nice, and very close to the park. We only did one set and got a lot of money for it. Helped the average for the whole trip.

We almost had a little trouble going over the Canadian border on the way home � none of us had thought to bring our passports. I didn�t even know we were routed through Canada until we left for home � Carol does the mapping generally � so it wouldn�t have occurred to me, but Carol and Chris didn�t bring theirs, either. The guy admonished us but let us through, and I sweated the 200 miles until the U.S. border, when I was afraid we�d have to go through it all again. But the next guy didn�t ask for any paperwork, just asked a few questions and let us go through.

(Meheil, don�t think I didn�t think of you.)

Sometime after dark, driving through NY state, I was having a fantasy about making love with James, when suddenly a brilliant show of fireworks started on the horizon to our right. It was very funny, as �Happy Together� was playing on the radio at the time.

Because I got home essentially Sunday night, I did have all day Monday to start errands and decompress a bit. That helped; today I went to Mike�s house (my sister�s ex-house, now) and did all my laundry. So there�s no reason not to go to Rhode Island tomorrow. I am looking forward to it, fireworks fantasies notwithstanding. I expect we�ll walk on the beach, lounge around on chairs, eat something, see the town... I�ll meet just his younger daughter, as the son has flown the coop with the girlfriend.

It was strange to be at Mike�s today. He�s on a long trip, family and business, and won�t be back until next week. The house seemed a little sad. All the pictures and tchatchkee have been removed from the fridge, and replaced by two photos of someone who looks like a baseball player. The food in the pantry is different � more processed, prepared boxed stuff, a really large container of vidalia onion salad dressing. Deli coleslaw and potato salad in the fridge. Meanwhile they have a young woman who looks after the animals whenever they travel, and she�s there caring for just Mike�s dog. When I arrived the garage door had been left open and the door to the house from the garage is always kept unlocked. The dog is crated when no one is home, so anyone could have walked in. It�s a good neighborhood but I was a little pissed that she�d been so careless. I left her a nice-ish note saying I�d been there to do laundry and had closed the garage door, just to let her know it had been open.

Once again, it is a blessing to be home, and to be able to make a bank deposit. I paid a pile of bills today which did away with most of that, but at least they�re paid. Had buffalo burgers on the foreman grill, steamed zucchini, and Yellow Tail wine � a Shiraz/Grenache blend. The rest of the week is booked � I work Thursday morning and then load out to Kripalu for some enforced R&R and a Saturday gig. All I can really concentrate on, of course, though, is James. And the Rhode Island surf.

In anticipation of whom I have, in a particularly uncharacteristic, Bridget-Jonesesque manner, depilitated my bikini line and bleached the few leg hairs below my knees that amount to anything. Hm.