January 04, 2009

5:46 p.m.

Twelve Degrees in Webster

The cold was bitter, but the gig was sweet. Nicely attended, lovingly received, and I sold quite a few solo CDs for some reason. They're all highly discounted now, in an effort to move the stock, but it was still a good haul for me. I went in my bandmates' car so I didn't even have to drive.

I'd been a little sick on Friday -- I think I determined it must have been a bug -- but I was okay for the trip apart from the usual. The house we stayed in was one of the dustiest I've ever been in, so my allergies were dancing quite a bit. Alas, some people's strong points do not include housekeeping, even when there are guests. However, this couple is famous for their homemade soups, which they feed to the artists and volunteers on concert nights. This one I think he referred to as Scotch Broth, but in any case it was a lamb vegetable barley soup, made with the leftover meat and bone of a leg of lamb after they'd made something else with the rest of the meat. The usual vegetable suspects, plus a turnip. The stock was just amazing. When I asked him what the secret was, he told me he'd used just a little curry powder. I'd never have guessed -- it didn't taste like curry, but was rich and savory, almost sweet. I'm definitely trying this sometime.

Chris still has some of his cold, so his voice wasn't completely up to scratch, but he managed all right with a little break in the 2nd set, when Carol and I sang a duet and he rested for four minutes.

We slept all right though not enough, got up earlyish and were fed blueberry waffles and grapefruit for breakfast. Our host had bought one of those hotel-style waffle makers, the kind that turn over, at a tag sale for one dollar. He was quite proud of this waffle maker. I must say they were pretty good. They're more the Aunt Jemima Syrup type than the Real Maple Syrup type, so we secretly missed our maple syrup. I knew telepathically that C&C were both thinking that at the same time I was, as we poured the unrealistically thick liquid from the sexy plastic bottles.

Lovely folks though, and a blessing to the music community there. It's hard work putting on concerts, and most venues lose money.

We drove the 6 hours home today, alternately laughing over stuff or listening to NPR or just riding quietly. I picked up my car at their house and drove the last hour home. For some reason I had come up with the little mantra, "I can heal myself at home," and was repeating it contentedly in my head. Now we have the rest of the month off from gigs until our Florida trip. There might be some recording, so I'm not completely free. But no traveling for a while. Except tomorrow, eight miles to Rose's house, where Pearl will assemble my cello.