the question of the day is...
Between being pawed and mauled by Harry, I called Rob and told him of my decision. He didn't say much. I suspect the real battle still lies ahead; that he hasn't yet begun to cajole and persuade. I've decided, though. Nothing will change that. --I did agree to play the show on the 15th, to give them a little time to get up to speed with the new guy, but that's it.
I also called Rick. That would be Rick Martell, college buddy and musical genius who produced our CD. Told him about my decision and asked him if he knew of any good studio musicians who might be interested in working with me on and off. To my great surprise, he lit up (visibly, even over the phone) like a spotlight when I told him. Said that he hadn't wanted to say anything while I was with the band, but that the kind of songs I was writing just screamed out for greater and more creative orchestration than could be provided by a four-man band, and how did I feel about keyboards? and saxophone? and some creative percussion? and maybe some strings? and YES he would LOVE to work with me, anytime, on anything. Which, wow. I totally hadn't expected that sort of reaction. And y'know, the original move toward solo work was just something to ease the sting of leaving the band, but now I'm starting to really see the possibilities. To get excited about them. Harry said something like this to me and it didn't hit home, but hearing Rick say it... just made it all real. What I can do with myself, if I choose. What sort of magic I could create, with my guitar instead of a wand.
Meanwhile, the REAL question of the evening, the one I know you're all dying to hear answered, is: How do you keep a cat who can walk through walls from coming with you when you go out to eat with "her" baby? Answer: You don't. We were pulling into the restaurant and parking when I happened to glance back at Cass and noticed, almost without surprise, that Heckity was curled up in her lap in the carseat. And this after my last glimpse upon closing the door of the house was of Heckity perched on the back of the sofa, staring balefully at me. Perhaps foolishly, we tried to keep her in the car, windows dutifully lowered... and went in, and got ourselves and Cass situated in a booth, and guess what I saw when I gazed past Cass's infant seat? Yep.
Strangely enough, none of the people who stopped to coo over Cass seemed to notice the kitten perched beside her on the booth seat. As if she were selectively invisible to mainstreamers. Our Heckity gets stranger by the moment, I'm telling you. But her appetite remains sound: she lapped up bits of soup and tidbits until her tummy was round and full.
And so did we. Salads, soups, pasta and muffins and fruit, many varieties and excellent quality. I let Cass taste some of it - oh, just the tiniest drops of lukewarm soups and sauces on her tongue, so she could begin to get the idea of what things taste like. She seemed perplexed by some things, seemed to smile at others. And perfectly behaved, all happy faces and sounds, and no dirty diaper to change until well after we'd gotten home. All in all, an excellent first-month birthday for our girl.
Harry, at the moment, seems to be too busy digesting his dinner to pounce me again. Part of me is relieved at this; another part, strangely forlorn. Yet I myself am way too stuffed from dinner to do much more than lie here and groan faintly at the pressure of my full belly. A splendid ending to a splendid day.
I also called Rick. That would be Rick Martell, college buddy and musical genius who produced our CD. Told him about my decision and asked him if he knew of any good studio musicians who might be interested in working with me on and off. To my great surprise, he lit up (visibly, even over the phone) like a spotlight when I told him. Said that he hadn't wanted to say anything while I was with the band, but that the kind of songs I was writing just screamed out for greater and more creative orchestration than could be provided by a four-man band, and how did I feel about keyboards? and saxophone? and some creative percussion? and maybe some strings? and YES he would LOVE to work with me, anytime, on anything. Which, wow. I totally hadn't expected that sort of reaction. And y'know, the original move toward solo work was just something to ease the sting of leaving the band, but now I'm starting to really see the possibilities. To get excited about them. Harry said something like this to me and it didn't hit home, but hearing Rick say it... just made it all real. What I can do with myself, if I choose. What sort of magic I could create, with my guitar instead of a wand.
Meanwhile, the REAL question of the evening, the one I know you're all dying to hear answered, is: How do you keep a cat who can walk through walls from coming with you when you go out to eat with "her" baby? Answer: You don't. We were pulling into the restaurant and parking when I happened to glance back at Cass and noticed, almost without surprise, that Heckity was curled up in her lap in the carseat. And this after my last glimpse upon closing the door of the house was of Heckity perched on the back of the sofa, staring balefully at me. Perhaps foolishly, we tried to keep her in the car, windows dutifully lowered... and went in, and got ourselves and Cass situated in a booth, and guess what I saw when I gazed past Cass's infant seat? Yep.
Strangely enough, none of the people who stopped to coo over Cass seemed to notice the kitten perched beside her on the booth seat. As if she were selectively invisible to mainstreamers. Our Heckity gets stranger by the moment, I'm telling you. But her appetite remains sound: she lapped up bits of soup and tidbits until her tummy was round and full.
And so did we. Salads, soups, pasta and muffins and fruit, many varieties and excellent quality. I let Cass taste some of it - oh, just the tiniest drops of lukewarm soups and sauces on her tongue, so she could begin to get the idea of what things taste like. She seemed perplexed by some things, seemed to smile at others. And perfectly behaved, all happy faces and sounds, and no dirty diaper to change until well after we'd gotten home. All in all, an excellent first-month birthday for our girl.
Harry, at the moment, seems to be too busy digesting his dinner to pounce me again. Part of me is relieved at this; another part, strangely forlorn. Yet I myself am way too stuffed from dinner to do much more than lie here and groan faintly at the pressure of my full belly. A splendid ending to a splendid day.