The Candle Experiment.

I tried it again. Lit a candle in the back yard waiting to see if the flame would flicker, and once again, for over an hour, it has not. January in California gives new meaning to the word "balmy." Today is the last day of the first month in the calendar year Two Thousand Three. Tomorrow is February. Already. Betcha fifty cents the groundhog sees his shadow Sunday. I am so glad to live here.

Giving Blood Gives Life.

On February 3, I have an appointment to donate blood at Stanford Blood Center. I have O+, which is always in short supply, always needed because it is compatible with just about everyone. On February 18, I am donating platelets by a process called "aphoresis." That takes much more time. Platelets help to clot blood in leukemia patients. This I do on a regular basis because my body manufactures platelets in excess, enough so to help three patients per donation as opposed to one. Please, if you can, call for an appointment today for either type of donation, at (650) 723-7831 or toll-free at (888) 723-7831. Give blood and/or platelets, and give yourself a good feeling. Works for me.

Today's Quote

"A single prayer moves heaven." -- Japanese proverb.

Reality Is Its Own Reward.

I went to this concert. Stunning, especially the pod. Click below for the Rolling Stone review.
RS-PG.pdf

Realer Than Real.

I'd like to see something like "Middle-Aged American Idol." Now, that would be reality.

Commuter PAIN.

Could someone please explain to me the logic of taking away a lane when traffic is at its heaviest?

Life, Death, Birth.

A week and a day after the passing of my dearest aunt, who was as close to us as a mother, we have a new baby second cousin, a ten-pound boy yet to be named. Naturally, I wrote a song about him in my dreams. It has a sort of Roaring Twenties feel, probably because I've been yearning to see the movie Chicago.
Here goes:

The boy's a baby
The babe's a little boy
We're so proud of him
A wondrous bundle of joy
With five before him
Who could ignore him
The boy's a baby
A bundle of joy.

Dave and Kay Mitchell are thrilled they made it home to Tennessee in good time and didn't have to birth him on the plane. I hope they name him Luke. If he had indeed been born on the plane, they could have named him Air Mitchell. Now that's funny. Congratulations, you two. Now you're eight.

Wood for Wood.

I had the warmest, most wonderful dream last night. I dreamed I was in the market for a home, and was being shown a Victorian with a view of the ocean. I remember having to angle my neck and stand on my toes in order to actually see the ocean, but it was good enough and I intended to make an offer. In my dream, the entire place was lined with wood: hardwood floors, vaulted wood ceilings with slow, calm fans, recessed shelving, paneled wainscoting and corners that were useable drawers (my subconscious' own design), all made of beautifully fine, polished wood. And it was all one big room, with the other rooms in the home being sort of antechambers with no walls separating them, just handrails and short flights of stairs. Lots of open space, light and airy. If it ever comes true, I'll definitely need one of these handsome devils to go with it all.

KCSM Does It Again.

I'm a big fan of anything commercial-free, especially of KCSM listener-supported radio. Commercial-free jazz at 91.1 FM, and it's quality stuff: Ella, Miles, Monk. They have a cable channel too, Channel 60, and it is blissfully free of ads too. Most cable channels show lots and lots of commercials, and often it's the same three or four commercials repeated ad nauseum, but not KCSM.

I got a real treat last Friday night watching The Ed Sullivan Show. It was a welcome trip back in time. I am guessing it was from about 1966, and featured the inimitable Judy Garland singing an inspired "By Myself." Oddly, when she was through she turned her back, sashayed backstage and flung the microphone hard, which made me scratch my head and say hmmm. One very hot Tom Jones kicked ass singing "These Hands" (yum). A very funny, very forgotten comedian delivered an hilarious monologue detailing how he had fallen in love with a watermelon, and lastly Topo Gigio and Bobo did a completely adorable skit. When I was a kid, I'd finger-tap in bored anticipation until he appeared. What amazing puppetry. Watching again as an adult was terrific because I was outside the kid realm of actual belief enough to really appreciate the artistry that it took three gifted puppeteers to work those two very expressive little guys. Thanks, KCSM.

Freak Roadshow Induces Cranial Wheelie.

Driving southbound on 280 yesterday at 101 interchange, some guy on a motorcycle POPPED A WHEELIE in the number one lane before the southbound on-ramp to L.A. and rode it out all the way up and almost to the bottom of the ramp. It's a long ramp, so he was standing up on his bike doing 60 mph for a full 60 seconds. Professional stunt guy, or blithering idiot? You make the call. I sure hope it's not a trend.

A Beautiful Life.

Okay. Just because someone else wrote a book doesn't mean I can't write one of my own. Maybe this is it. I want to tell you about a woman. She would be one of my central characters. She is tall, proud, and strong. A crafty survivor with the smarts enough to leave home to lead her own life. She sews all her own clothes, and her sister's, with painstaking care. She does more in one day as a young girl than most young girls now could accomplish in a month, maybe two. She carves a path for her sister to follow and with leadership and loyalty like that, who wouldn't go. Mine will be a book about the life of a woman so excellent and so very Godly that the world would do itself good to examine her life and follow her ways. And it all began in Arkansas, among acres and acres of cotton in a time so different, so innocent and so very, very hard.