Yeah, apologies to my many fans for the hiatus. Brief recap:
Sven visited for two weeks. Among other things we saw Wanda Jackson, who was as feisty as ever, telling us about the men who've inspired her the most: Elvis, Hank Williams, Jesus. Since I was near the stage, she gave me a nice hand squeeze. I was astonished. Here I was dancing away, and the next thing, Wanda is sticking her hand in my face. Holy cow. She'd just decided to say howdy to her audience, so we all got a little squeeze. I adore her.
While Sven and a friend saw Bjork, I went with a friend to the Blues Tour, which turned out to be fantastic. Highlights included Linda's, a corner bar where we saw the Fabulous L. Roy and the Bulletproof Band (free chicken and salad on Monday nights!) and I made friends with a woman who worked there, who made sure the Styrofoam bowl of Cheese Curls in front of me was kept full. ("When you come back, you say, "Where's Barbara?!") Then back on the bus to the deep south(side), to Lee's, where Johnny Drummer had the crowd worked up, and Miss Beverly had me screaming to her cover of "Clean Up Woman."
I met a man who used to sing in Boston and was signed under the Beantown record label. We talked about Skippy White's and the Cantab, Little Joe Cook and the Thrillers. He pointed to a newspaper photo of himself hung on the wall, showing him singing to a crowd of adoring women. He'd since clearly fallen on hard times, apparently the victim of a terrible fire. But what a small world, to be standing at a club on 75th Street talking to a guy who used to hang out in Central Square. Everyone was terrific, and on the bus back, it was that kind of good-time camaraderie where everyone is happy and fun and nobody's an ugly drunk. We were riding school buses, and one driver, Stella, teased us over the microphone that she was going to turn the radio on, and she promptly found a station playing James Taylor.
"Stella!" I groaned, "I am in physical PAIN! I've been hearing blues all night; you can't shift to James Taylor. Truly, internal organs are hemorrhaging, here."
After Sven left, my cousin Michelle arrived with a friend. They stayed downtown and had plenty of their own plans; we hung out a bit. Memorial Day morning we had breakfast, and as I prepared to pull away from the Melrose Diner, a taxi pulled around the car parked behind me waiting for the spot, and sideswiped me. Quick ride to the police station, fill out the report, go to airport, come home, and within two hours flat out with a violent cold and sinus pain. After two days in bed, delusional and paranoid on cold medication, finally got to work.
On the express bus home yesterday a woman was talking about the man who exposed untold people to TB. As I sat there and coughed she asked me loudly, "You don't have TB do you?"
"Uh, no." I should have said yes, just to liven things up. At the very least it would have kept people from crowding me, forcing me to lean away from the Wall of Ass.
I am now an official employee at my job; got my first paycheck, and it feels good. I still have miles of training to go before I sleep, but so far it's fine. I even got a bike tag that lets me keep my bike in the building during the day.
I got married last week (just making sure you're paying attention).
So that's the whirlwind update. Big neighborhood yard sale tomorrow; hoping to simplify my life by getting rid of as much as possible. Less to dust!!!