Sunday Sunday so good to me

Sunday morning and I've read my e-mail and sent my Sunday Funnies jokes and looked at old C-melody (almost wrote "C-moldy") saxophones on eBay. Wife and son still snoozing and so is Chuck the Cat. He's found an old typing-paper-sized box atop a plastic file container that makes a perfect bed. It was Chuck, of course, who rattled the venetian blinds at 7:15 to wake me up. "Get up!" he said. "It's time to do your cat-feeding chore!" So I did and made coffee while I was at it. Today's the big NFL playoff day, two football games puntuated by endless and endlessly repeating and excruciatingly stupid and boring commercials. If I weren't such a football addict, I'd forgo the whole thing. There's just something so American about watching huge men run at each other wearing armor and helmets. But then, men are curious creatures, eh? Never quite able to shake completely the Caveman aspect. No more curious, I suppose, than the women who seem to love that style of man, despite frequent protestations that sensitivity is key. Yes, football and cheerleaders, beer and car ads, inane talking heads explaining the obvious about football ... what could be better? Well, I don't have time to list all the answers to that question, but I'll start with a decent, healthy breakfast, something like a couple of bearclaws and milk! Then a good guilt-erasing four-mile walk and maybe an hour or so on the banjo ...

Rain rain rain

Saturday morning and it's been raining again ... I've always loved the rain. I can remember the first time I was aware of it and asking my mother what it was and her carrying me out to the car, my hand out to feel this strange, new water that falls from the sky. It's a good day to hole up inside and read and listen to music. Speaking of which, be sure to check out Jim Caroompas's "Greatest Hits Live" CD ... he's playing in Martinez from 8 to midnight or so tonight at La Tapitia at the corner of Main and Estudillo ... a good chance to have south-of-the border cuisine and hear his mix of great tunes plus pick up a CD. Old Dog, my own group, will be playing from 8 to 10 p.m. on Saturday, Jan. 28 at Panama Bay Coffee Co., 2151 Salvio Street, Concord, opposite Todos Santos Plaza. With Patty Caramagno Robertson off to India, it'll be Guys Night Out and we'll be doing a slightly new and different mix of tunes. Hope to see you there!
The canvas chair
sags under the weight
of last night's rain ...

Woofwoofwoofwoof!

Woke up at 6:30 this morning, to the sound of rattling garbage truck and barking neighbors' dogs ... retirement ain't all gravy! You find out how many of your neighbors leave their dogs home alone all day, and how the dogs bark incessantly because of boredom. The three in our immediate area could form a trio, as one is a baritone shepherd, another is a tenor mongrel and the third is a soprano yappydog. Oh, and there's a bass(et) hound who lives with the soprano but doesn't bark as much. Ah, the sound of suburban dog music!
OK, OK, I got up on the wrong side of bed this morning. Excuse me while I go outside and bark back at the neighbors' neglected creatures ...

A starter poem

I'll start things off with this poem, from a hike on Mitchell Canyon Trail at Mount Diablo State Park:

Winter's storms
have toppled the big oak
I thought was strongest ...

Welcome aboard

I'll be posting autobiography segments, opinions, poems, etc., here. You are welcome to read and respond to them. Thanks for your time.