Spring Finally Hits New Hampshire

OK - two straight days of temps in the 60s, motorcycles drowning
out all other traffic noise, my neighbour bitching about our fence
again. . . yep, it's officially spring. I actually had a relatively calm
discussion with the screamer next door (after she yelled at me, I
snapped, yelled at her, we yelled at each other, then I called a
halt and suggested we TALK). They don't like the way the fence
looks between our yards. I'll admit, it's ugly. It's in bad shape. It
was there when I bought the house. But, on the other hand, it's six
feet tall. She's only going to put up chickenwire - which means her
dogs will only bark at us MORE. So, I don't think so. The police
have told me she's got no right to tell me what to do
with a fence that's on my own land, even if it IS ugly. AND . . .
disturbing the peace IS a crime. So I think I'm going to start
tape recording her dogs (and HER screaming at them at all hours
of the night). The guys in the band suggested I point speakers
at her house and play the recordings back. Might be fun.

Hey, it's spring and I'm feeling playful. Wooooo hoooooo!!!!

The "Greatest" Generation

WARNING!!! I wrote this during a particularly
trying sequence of events. I never published it
because I thought I was just being pissy because
I was under stress. I just found it in my 'draft'
folder. I'll let YOU decide.

------------------------------------------------

Since I'm dealing with a funeral this week, I'm also
dealing with lots of people from Tom Brokaw's
"Greatest Generation". And it makes me wonder . . .

If they're so great:

Why do all of these people wear so much perfume
to funerals? Do they think the collective smell
will ward off evil spirits? It does make me want
to run . . .and I've been accused of being evil....

How come they all love to compare THIS funeral home's
rooms to THAT funeral home's rooms? Does the deceased
really care?

Moving away from funerals, why did they come home from
World War II, give themselves all kinds of sweetheart deals
on mortgages and wages, then once they were older and
owned everything - - decided it would be fiscally irresponsible
to do anything helpful for the worker?

Why are they so fervently "religious", yet more than half of
their marriages ended in divorce? Well, OK, I take that one
back - only the women were religious. Why else would they
have had a baby every year just because "Father Lester
said we had to . . ." ???

Farewell, Pop

My wife's grandfather passed away on St. Patrick's Day.
For the 16 years I knew him, I never had a problem
with him. He DID enjoy riling up his daughter (my
mother-in-law), but it worked for them, in some weird
way. And it saved me the effort. He was a fantastic
great-grandfather and friend to my son.

What sucked was, he had moved from here on the east
coast out to Washington state to live with one of his sons
because that son "had plenty of room, his wife was a nurse
and she could help take care of him."

Instead, they used his life's savings to remodel their house and
then stuck him in a nursing home when his cash ran out.
My wife and mother-in-law had flown out there to visit awhile
ago, seen what was happening (while they were visiting - before
he was even put into the nursing home - he begged them to "get
me the hell out of here") and were in the process of intervening
(getting back power-of-attorney, etc.) but it turned out to be to late.
He died a week after his son put him in the nursing home.

He deserved a better exit.

Revenge of the Gig Barometer!

About a week ago, while we were in the middle of a big
snowstorm, my brother called me. He asked, "So where's
your gig tonight?"

I said, "No gig. I'll just be shoveling snow all night."

He said, "No gig?! But there's a blizzard! You've gotta have a
gig! That's just not right . . ."

He speaks from experience: as all musicians know, if you've got
a gig, it's probably going to rain. Or snow. Or maybe there'll be
a plague of locusts - anything to a) make getting to the gig difficult,
and b) keep patrons away!

I call this the Gig Barometer. It's WAY more accurate than all the
computers the TV weathermen use. I usually know when
precipitation is coming months in advance! I've often fantasized
about getting a job as a weather forecaster by sending a few
networks a complete rain/snow chart that simply utilizes the
gigs on my calendar. After six months of pin-point accuracy, they'd
be having a bidding war for me, wouldn't they?

But - NO - last week there was no gig. Only snow. The GB had
failed. All these years . . . so dependable . . . could it be over?

BUT - today, my son had a school event/play. HIS gig! And it started
snowing at 9 in the morning. I had to shovel a few times before we
got out, then we came home during a break. I had to shovel to
get IN! And then back out. And then back in again later.
Best of all, we had left one car at the "venue" (school), and I
had to bring the shovel with me to make sure we could get THAT
one out.

How could I have doubted? My faith has been restored.

"But it's so pretty...."

Hey! 6 to 10 more inches of snow tonight! WOO HOO!
Why the FUCK do I live in New England again??
We got whacked last week. I've got no place left to throw
the stuff. The last thing I need is MORE.

I love the people who say, "It's so pretty"....they're the ones
who never lift a shovel. Same for the "You've got to have
snow for Christmas" crowd. Why do I need snow? Because
Bing Crosby sang a stupid song about it? Please.

And do you know WHY Bing had to "dream" of a white Christmas?
Because he was probably in Palm Springs sipping his damned
Minute Maid lemonade !

OK, I'm just pissed off that I'll have to spend all day tomorrow
doing physical labour. I admit it. So what?