Did I mention that I got my accordion? Of course, to call what I purchased an accordion is like calling an Ibanez a guitar or saying that Arby's serves edible roast beef. In other words, it's a stretch of the highest order. Instead of visiting music stores or going antiquing, I decided to drop into a toy store down the street from the ol' day job, where they had a Hohner child's toy accordion capable of about two chords and no notes that are either sharp or flat. So, basically, I got a squeaky two octave accordion that can yelp along with white-keyed piano ditties. $20 well spent, I'm sure you'll agree. The best part was the duet I did with a six year old when I was buying it. You've never heard percussion genius until you've heard a first grader play drums through plastic packaging. Trust me.
This week, us birdmonsters are trying desperately to avoid forgetting important loose ends before flying to the Right Coast. Personally, I need a haircut & some new pants. But also packing, laundering, and finding Sir Patrick a foster garage are important, if not boring, tasks that need doing. We're good at that last-minute, pseudo-procrastinated rush to action so I have the utmost faith, but, innevitably, I forget something that seems unimportant on paper but ends up being quite necessary. Like deoderant. Sorry plane neighbor. I'll remember this time.
Otherwise: I have a request. I finished the book I was reading & need something new. Maybe somethings, emphasis on the plural. It should be fun, addictive, and long, something that will make me cackle on the plane so that, beyond the lack of deoderant, I'll also be giddy and wild-eyed. In fact, I'm not going to shave either. I see a security point strip search in my future.
And need I remind you that BFD is this Saturday? And that there's an East Coast tour after that? No. But I did.