Hail to the Chief (and Diners and Canadian Musicians and Bowling)

I am of the mind that one should not waste a paid holiday. So, when I realized that Kathleen Edwards was playing a show in Connecticut on Presidents' Day, I shared this news with drummer extraordinaire and fellow music lover (and willing driver) Johnny Macko. Soon after, a road trip was formed, with both of us taking the next day off as well so as not to face a three-hour drive back after the show. Well, a three-hour ride for me.

But, like any good navigator, I started thinking about side trips on either the way there or the way back. So, I consulted my handy-dandy Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives book and saw what was around the area we'd be traveling to. And that's when I discovered TGIFriday's shill (shame on you!) Guy Fieri's declaration that the Eveready Diner in Hyde Park, NY, was the "Taj Mahal of diners." And, lookie there, Hyde Park wasn't too far off the route. Plus, the FDR Historical Site was in Hyde Park. And we could be there on Presidents' Day, dammit!

I love it when a road trip comes together.

The Eveready turned out to be pretty swell, even though they were inexplicably out of pot roast (a diner faux pas if ever there was one). But the chicken and biscuits served as a fine substitute. Plus they were willing to serve the potent combination of pastries and beer, as evidenced in the photo below. And they had t-shirts (and, hence, I have one of their t-shirts).



After the feeding had ended (and a temptation to order a piece of tiramisu cheesecake to place on top of a full stomach subsided), we sauntered over to the neighboring Rollermagic, which was closed. I just wanted a peek inside at the rink, but as I was trying to sneak one, the owner came out and apologized that they were closed. As I looked at the brochure he handed me, it occurred to me that he assumed that we, two grown men, were bummed that we had been denied a Monday-afternoon skating session. And so we have added another person to the long list of those who question my heterosexuality.



The FDR site was almost directly across the street from the diner, so we did a quick walk-through, stopping at the New Deal gift shop before walking the grounds for a bit.



We stopped outside an outdoor tribute to FDR and Churchill that also featured a big structure covered by a tarp. It was a sculpture that incorporated a piece of the Berlin Wall. I suppose it was covered up for the winter, and the gentleman who preceded us at the sculpture informed us that "the bastards have it tied down pretty good, too."

So we moved on to FDR and Eleanor's grave, stopping to pay some respects on Presidents' Day.



And then there was Springwood, FDR's boyhood home (and part-time residence in his later years).



And, finally, a badass tree.



Then it was back on the road to Norfolk, Connecticut, which, considering the decreasing light along the way, we actually did a pretty good job finding.



Infinity Hall is a really awesome venue, built in 1883 and recently lovingly restored. We had sixth-row seats, but there really isn't a bad spot in the place (which holds about 300 or so). If you ever get the chance, paid holiday or not, you oughta go. Hey, Gallagher's playing there soon (it's a "No Sledge" show, though, so leave the garbage bags at home).



As usual, Kathleen Edwards was great. You should also see her if you get the chance. Afterward, I had her sign a photo of the two of us taken at last year's Zankel Hall show (just before security shut down Mr. Macko's dream of a photo with her...a dream finally realized in Norfolk), and she was embarrassed to see that she was wearing the same shirt in the photo. So she signed "Nice shirt" with a photo pointing to her on the photo, making another fun keepsake.

After the show, we headed to our hotel in Torrington, where we were greeted by a dead mouse in the parking lot and one of the coldest hotel rooms I've ever been in. But I was happy reading my newspapers (a guy in Norfolk had expressed great surprise that I would buy two newspapers, first saying that I must know someone in the paper when he thought I was buying two of the same paper and then saying that I must be looking for a job...I broke the news that I just like reading newspapers) and watching Willie Nelson and Asleep at the Wheel on Letterman.

The next day featured a diner breakfast of french toast (again, without even trying, our hotel was across the street from the Twin Colony Diner) before an unsuccessful record store-seeking excursion into downtown Torrington, where the only record store of note had the convenient hours of 4 to 6:30 and the rest of the town seemed pretty rundown.

But Torrington does have an awesome bowling alley (five minutes from the hotel...unplanned, I swear). It's old-school, but not in a rundown sort of way.



And what's truly old-school? No electronic scoring, beeyotch.



Bowling the way it oughta be. A beautiful thing.

And, every way you look at it, a beautiful trip.

Autograph Alley: The Conan Years

I am, as I have mentioned, a sentimental man. And that, of course, is a fancy way of saying I shed a tear more easily than your average 32-year-old man. If everything's lined up right, I've been known to get a little emotional when watching "Extreme Makeover: Home Edition." I aint proud, but that's the way it is, you callous, heartless hipster ogre.

Anyway, while watching the last episode of "Late Night With Conan O'Brien" last Friday night, I felt some tears welling up as the episode drew to a close. It's not that I have a strong emotional attachment to Conan; when I see the show, I still love it, but, to be honest, I've only seen a handful of episodes during what will lovingly be recalled as "The Working Years" in my biography (pre-order it now for 2048 delivery!). But I do feel a strong pull to those years I spent in the lobby of 30 Rock, wasting my precious late teens waiting for celebrities to sign autographs. I don't really miss the collecting all that much (and, based on the YouTube videos I see, I would sooner visit a friend who sleeps with an unstable chimpanzee than resume collecting in the NBC lobby), but those trips were my first real solo endeavors into the city and served as the beginning of my exploration and eventual love of Manhattan. And who knows if that would've happened if Conan O'Brien hadn't started his show 16 years ago? Well, OK, it would've likely happened anyway, but Conan's show certainly sped up the process.

I first went to 30 Rock, though, as an audience member (first time I saw a TV taping, I think), for Episode #14, where the guests were the stellar trio of Ellen Cleghorne, Ronald Reagan Jr., and Juliana Hatfield. And, to the best of my recollection, the guests never really got better in the five or six other times I was in the audience. And they certainly weren't great the day I figured I'd give autograph collecting a whirl, when I saw people waiting in the lobby after I came down the elevators after a taping featuring Dick Cavett, Dorian Harewood, and Hank Flamingo (though the lead singer of Hank Flamingo, Trent Summar, is still pretty cool). I figured that might be a fun thing to do. Occasionally, it was, so long as the celebrities actually signed and the collectors didn't get too obnoxious.

There was a lot of boring downtime for me at 30 Rock, and, as the years went on, that downtime turned from boring to maddening. I remember one early evening spent waiting for, hell, I don't even recall, in which a fellow collector grilled me about my opposition to the death penalty while popping out exciting hypotheticals that started like "So, you're saying that if someone killed your parents..."

But there were a few years where the conversations were lighter and more entertaining and the characters made the time pass. Plus, occasionally, the "Saturday Night Live" cast would be walking around, which is when I snapped this photo of Chris Farley.



After a few years, I was somehow anointed the official spotter for musical guests coming off the elevator, a job I did pretty well. But sometimes the music guests were so well known, my skills weren't needed. Such was the case when Elvis Costello and Burt Bacharach were on. I was all about Elvis, and he was nicer than I expected, even posing for a photo.



I was ready to call it a day, but one of the other collectors told me he'd take a picture of me and Mr. Bacharach. I resisted, but the resulting photo is, I admit, pretty entertaining. At least to me. If Burt Bacharach sees it, he'd probably be less thrilled.



Another memorable music guest was Hank Williams Jr., who, as I recall, wasn't announced as the musical guest until late in the game. I would generally scour TV Guides and newspaper listings in advance so I could prepare accordingly. But when there was no advance warning, especially for someone I was as interested in meeting as Bocephus, well, I went into a panic. I recall that retired journalist Bryan Chambala was coming into town that day, so I hurriedly went to Academy Records and snatched up two Hank Jr. records before meeting Mr. Chambala at the Port Authority. I informed of what we would be doing with the next few hours and he gamely agreed to the mission (a noble action, though if he hadn't, I suspect I would've just bought him a bus ticket home and said farewell).

There was a decent-sized crowd of collectors around that day, though only a few who had any genuine interest in meeting Bocephus. One of them was Ronnie, one of my favorite collectors, who was always well dressed and well stressed about having everything go according to plan. He was a fun guy to talk to, but when it came time to being in charge of taking his photo with a celebrity, I didn't want to be in the area. He would get so revved up about the matter ("Wait 'til he's looking! And make sure I'm looking too! And we're both in the frame!") that I just didn't want the responsibility.

Anyway, as we were all staring at the elevators, waiting for one to release Bocephus, I looked to my right and spotted Hank Jr. coming out of the service elevator. Sneaky! But I quickly darted over, followed closely by Bryan, Ronnie, and the rest of the autograph lunatics, who commenced The Swarm. And, as you may have guessed, I wound up with Ronnie's camera in my hand. After several moments of panic, the picture was taken. I never saw how it came out, but I hope I did Ronnie proud.

I got my two albums signed (with a horrible scrawl), and, I do believe, Mr. Chambala snapped this gem:



And, of course, no discussion of my Conan years would be complete without mentioning what some my call my greatest Holiday Greeting photo, taken on August 14, 2001, before everything changed about a month later. I don't think there was even a split that year. How could there be? How could I deny sending anyone this photo?



So, yeah, even though I don't have any strong emotional ties to Conan O'Brien, it made me a little sad to see him signing off before making the transition to an hour earlier and a coast away. He was indirectly responsible for some of the more entertaining moments in my younger days (and I will forever love his shooting and drinking segment with Hunter S. Thompson and his first interview with James Ellroy, both of which are maddeningly not anywhere I can find on the Internets), so I wish him well on the other coast. Thanks for the memories.

Revku XIV

We took a road trip
Because the venue looked cool
Great show, awesome place

Kathleen Edwards/The Last Town Chorus, Infinity Hall, Norfolk, CT, 2/16/09

(I'll likely post more about the trip later this week, for those who prefer longer posts)

Revku XIII

A record store show
Makes Valentine's Day better
Fourteen new records!

Frankie and Kelly McGrath/Mark Linskey/Kim and Clay/The Sunday Blues, Curmudgeon Records, Somerville, NJ, 2/14/09

Revku XII

A day of sharp pain
An evening of soothing strings
Music: the healer

Abigail Washburn, Ben Sollee, Casey Driessen, and He Who Shall Not Be Named (who looked suspiciously like Béla Fleck), Joe's Pub, NYC, 2/11/09

I don't know who they think they are, trashing a perfectly good guitar

I've never been the type to go out on garbage night and see what people are tossing (though I can't help but notice that those who don't mind not-so-fresh doughnuts would do well to check out the Dunkin' Donuts on 32nd and 7th after hours...bags of them are tossed nightly). I already have a lot of crap here in Disgraceland.

But last night, after putting in some extra hours at the office and then grabbing food for the week at the supermarket, I saw what appeared to be a perfectly good guitar leaning against a garbage bag. Who throws out a guitar?

Well, it's mine now, and though I have no plans/time to learn how to play it in the near future, it will at least join my banjo as something I can strum tunelessly while trying to calm myself watching hockey and baseball.



It appears to be some sort of classical-style guitar, so look out, Esteban. Someone get me my sunglasses and bolero hat.

Revku XI

It wasn't the barn
Just an old Jersey theater
But the roof was raised

The Levon Helm Band, Wellmont Theatre, Montclair, NJ, 2/7/09

Revku X

Third show in three states
A chatty crowd in Philly
Stalking done for now

Amy LaVere, World Cafe Live (Upstairs), Philadelphia, PA, 2/6/09

Revku IX

It wasn't the same
But it never really is
Still, a good, fun show

Marah, Maxwell's, Hoboken, NJ, 2/5/09

Who Wants Another One?

In my senior year, I came to the realization that I was probably not going to become a journalist when a class assignment found me at a meeting that seemed to never end and featured a significant period of time being devoted to reprimanding someone for going to the bathroom without telling anyone first. The mere thought that I would have to pay dues by sitting through these four-hour meetings and crafting some sort of coherent article about them made me think twice about the career I had chosen.

That said, there were plenty of entertaining things going on at these meetings in Ithaca. And, it turns out, they still are. And here's the proof. If you don't feel like reading the whole article, here's the best moment:

Peterson then told Palmer that his time was up, to which Palmer replied, "I know it is."

He then reached into a bag, pulled out two shoes and hurled one at Alderman J.R. Clairborne, D-2nd, and another at Peterson. The first shoe flew between Clairborne and Alderman Eric Rosario, I-2nd. The second fell short of the Mayor. Several Council members pushed their chairs away from Palmer while Clairborne and Aldermen Svante Myrick, D-4th, stood and began to approach Palmer. There were roughly 30 people in the city hall audience.

Palmer pulled another shoe from his bag and waved it at Council members, asking "Who wants another one?"

I fondly remember watching Mr. Palmer's public access show, which wasn't quite as great as the Saturday night call-in free-for-all but still quite entertaining, and it's good to see he's still flying the crazy flag. I hope you got your shoes back, buddy.

Helmet tip to the Roller Derby Diva for alerting me about the article.

Revku VIII

Shorter show at Joe's

Talk of earning cone titties

You had to be there

Amy LaVere/Joe Pug, Joe's Pub, NYC, 2/3/09

What I Liked About January

*Inauguration Day 2009, Washington, DC
*Bowling eight games at Hudson Bayonne Lanes, Bayonne, NJ
*Maybe Pete, The Saint, Asbury Park, NJ
*The Campbell Brothers, BB King's, NYC






*Amy LaVere, Concerts in the Studio, Freehold, NJ
*Tool Academy
*Beef stew, Chip Shop, Brooklyn, NY
*Rodney Crowell and His Acoustic Trio, Sanctuary Concerts, Chatham, NJ





*Ricky Skaggs and Kentucky Thunder/Tommy Emmanuel, BB King's, NYC
*Alex Meixner, Bell House, Brooklyn, NY
*A three-game winning streak for the Islanders
*The willingness of people with cars to drive me places (such as the Metro station at 5 in the morning...thanks Jesse!)

Revku VII

A house party show
Thumpin' bass, then stuff your face
Watch her on Conan

Amy LaVere, Concerts in the Studio, Freehold, NJ, 1/31/09

Song o' the Month: January 2009

Every January, I discover a song that I am sad to have left off my mix of the best songs of the previous year. And this year's winner is Matt Mays & El Torpedo's "Building A Boat":



"I'll bring all my Roy Orbison tapes." Nice.

Kiritkumar Parikh RIP

We generally keep things light here at Tinsel and Rot, but sometimes something comes along that's a little on the darker side. And it doesn't get much darker than what happened three doors away from me Tuesday morning.

Let me first start by saying that I'm the type of guy who gets sentimental for the people that sell me my newspapers in the morning. I can remember the guys at the Optimo in Staten Island who sold me my papers every morning on the way to high school (and my wrestling magazines before I graduated to newspapers) and called me "Chief." I was always fond of George, the raspy-voiced guy at Mac's at Ithaca College, where I stopped every morning (or, in the later years, after I discovered no real need to take classes in the morning, every afternoon) for my papers. And I recently had a crisis when the woman who sold newspapers outside the Pavonia/Newport PATH, and had my Post and Daily News ready for me every morning, suddenly disappeared and I had to adjust to a new guy, who lost my business when he chased me into the PATH station because I had given him a dollar bill with a tiny corner piece missing. I'm trying to warm up to a newsstand near the station, but it's not feeling quite right yet.

All that is to say that I have a great fondness for those who sell me my newspapers. And that includes the family at the bodega on my street, where I routinely stop for my weekend papers, assuming I can rouse myself to put on pants before the papers sell out (I don't buy the daily papers there because they don't get the Sports Final). They're always very pleasant and friendly, and the patriarch of the family always had a kind word as I went on my way or even if I saw him closing up shop at night. I'm certain I never had a real conversation with him, but still, I felt a certain kinship, because I like the people that sell me my newspapers.

That guy at the bodega, whose name was Kiritkumar Parikh, was killed Tuesday morning by some heartless douchebag in a botched robbery attempt at the store. That bodega where I bought my newspaper was on the cover of one today, and that family is now without their father. When I walked past the shrine that is now outside the bodega tonight, I almost lost it. Not because someone was murdered three doors down and about 90 minutes after I passed by (though, truth be told, I'm not feeling all that great about that), but because Mr. Parikh is gone. Just gone. For no reason. And I'll never again see him on a Saturday morning, or heading home for the night. It doesn't seem right, or even possible. All because of a creep and his gun.

Requiescat in pace, Mr. Parikh.

And if you're so inclined, faithful reader, say a prayer today for Mr. Parikh's family.

Revku VI

Sonny sure can play
But the Campbells will move you
Yes, I jumped for joy

Sonny Landreth/The Campbell Brothers, BB King's Blues Club, NYC, 1/27/09

We just might live the good life yet

So far, 2009 has brought much exciting news.

*I've discovered a nearby bowling alley that offers $2 games on Sunday mornings (and it's right next to a diner...and across the street from the Acme where Randy the Ram worked in "The Wrestler").

*I've found out that the Newark Bears not only will not be forced to fold, but will come back with former White Sox catcher and Tinsel and Rot All-Star Ron Karkovice as their hitting coach (for some reason, my friend Brian and I selected him as our favorite player in the late 1980s/early 1990s; it may have been his albinoesque appearance). And to think I almost threw out my "Officer Karkovice" t-shirt.

*The multitalented (and, OK, quite attractive) Amy LaVere is soon to star in an MTV Web series called "$5 Cover" that looks like it might be both good and good for her. And she'll be on "Late Night with Conan O'Brien" next Monday, too.

But perhaps the most exciting news came the other day when I got an e-mail from Shout! Factory touting the March 17 release of another TGIF staple, the criminally underappreciated "Mr. Belvedere." Yes, Uecker lovers of America, your prayers have been answered (or at least your Belvederian prayers; I can offer no good news on the "Wacky World of Sports" boxed set front). I think it's a great shortcoming of TV Land that there isn't more variety on the station. Look, we all love "The Cosby Show," but enough already. There were a lot of other great shows on TV in the 1980s. With over 100 hours to fill, you think you could dig a little deeper.

Fortunately, come March 17, we Fans of Brocktoon no longer have to wait for TV Land to wake up. We will have the first two seasons of "Mr. Belvedere" right at our fingertips. Let us rejoice.

Cue the music.

Revku V

I walked for two miles
To see a show in a church
A righteous good time

Rodney Crowell and His Acoustic Trio (featuring Will Kimbrough and Jenny Scheinman), The Sanctuary at the Presbyterian Church, Chatham, NJ, 1/24/09

Charlie Is Real

From a great interview by Juli Thanki on the equally great blog The 9513:

JT: Satan is Real is hands down the best album cover in music history. Can you tell me a little bit about the process of creating it?

Charlie Louvin: After the song was finished, it hadn’t been released yet. They wanted to put out an album, and we asked if we could make Satan is Real the album title. We got the okay on that. My and Betty’s oldest son had a Lionel train on a four by eight foot piece of plywood. At the time, money was scarce, so we removed the train from the plywood, cut it in two and made Satan sixteen feet tall. We pictured Satan as having a pitchfork and horns; that’s what we were told when we were kids, but I find that it’s not true: I’m pretty sure I saw Satan the other day in a bikini on the beach.

Scenes From A Mall (and the Surrounding Area)

My reasoning went something like this: If I'm gonna live a life where I take a Greyhound from New York to Charlotte for a wrestling convention, wait on line for two hours to get a picture with Corey Haim, and head out in a vicious rainstorm to see Dustin Diamond do stand-up, then I'm gonna need a really good reason why I shouldn't attend the inauguration of Barack Obama.

Distance wasn't really a factor, since D.C. was only about four-and-a-half hours away.

Transportation was a similar nonissue, as there are plenty of buses and trains that head into D.C. every day. And, all things considered, the price of such transport was pretty reasonable

The weather? Well, yeah, that would be rough. But I spent my college years in a city where a walk from one end of the campus to the other could leave you crying as the winds pried open every tear duct you had. So I was prepared for that and was well-versed in the art of layering.

So, knowing full well what I was getting into, and with a place to crash Monday night (thanks, Ellis family!), there was in fact no good reason not to bear witness to one of the more historic days in the nation's history. Even though, much like my good buddy Alan Jackson, I'm not a real political guy, I'd been to Clinton's first inauguration, with a bus full of guys in high school I didn't like (one of whom put a battery in my mouth when I fell asleep on the bus), and had memories of how cool that was (despite getting lost afterward). I had the feeling Obama's day, and being among the potential millions of deliriously overjoyed on the Mall, might be a touch cooler.

That's how I got to Washington.

There are people better versed in political history and, indeed, more invested in President Obama's political career who can fully explain the import of the day. But what I can do, aside from show you pictures, is tell you the following:

* The thunderous sound of millions of gloved hands clapping during pauses in Obama's address is a sound I will never forget.

* If you're going to stand in sub-freezing cold for five hours, you oughta do it with one million people whose sheer collective joy will get you through those moments when you can't feel your toes and your right leg starts shaking involuntarily.

* You should see the sun rise behind the Washington Monument. It's kinda cool.

* It's also cool to walk through the I-395 tunnel.

* Even after spending five hours essentially in the same spot, even after bobbing and weaving through the mobs exiting from the Mall, even after standing amid hundreds of disgruntled mass transit users waiting to be let into Union Station (and getting in with about ten minutes to spare before our train headed out of town), I have no problem saying that there is no place I would have rather been on January 20, 2009, than on the Mall, watching America take a firm, confident step forward.

As I was figuring out all the transit particulars last week and making sure we had a solid plan about where we were going and when, my mind wandered to thoughts of my friends' kids and how, when they grow up, it won't be a strange idea that an African American can be president. There won't be discussions about whether certain groups would let that happen. Because it did happen. The doubts of the past have been erased. And I was there when that officially changed. Pretty cool.

Good luck, Mr. President. And thanks for the party.

Back view of the Capitol on Inaugural Eve:


The Capitol, ready to go:


Representing the state of New Jersey:


Morning has broken:


Calisthenics with Garth Brooks, via his performance of "Shout" at Sunday's concert, which played on the screens before the ceremony began:


Not dead, just resting:


Swearing:


A nation records:


Statue of Liberty (2009 Remix):


I kept my headlights off:


Let this be a lesson, future bootleg t-shirt makers: Even in the new America, you're still gonna need to know how to spell.

Revku IV

It was a good show
Until they kicked out the jams
Then it was awesome

Maybe Pete/Adam and Dave's Bloodline/Meagan Brothers, The Saint, Asbury Park, NJ, 1/17/09

Revku III

Third show in three nights
Not too mellow, not too loud
No photos (bad seat)

Jenny Scheinman, Rob Gjersoe, and Adam Levy, Barbés, Brooklyn, NY, 1/13/09

Revku II

Fellow IC grad
A master of the polka
"Chicken Dance" was played

Alex Meixner and Matt Zebroski, The Bell House, Brooklyn, NY, 1/12/09

Revku I

Tinsel and Rot aims to stay fresh. So, look for a few new features to be introduced here on the blog in 2009, the first of which is Revku. What's Revku, you ask? Good question. It's my attempt to review some (I'd like to promise all, but who can guarantee poetic inspiration?) of the shows I go to using a variation of the Japanese haiku format (we're sticking with the five-seven-five structure but dropping the obligatory tie-in to the weather, though we inadvertently nail that on the first one). Each concert revku will also feature a photo I took at the show.

Got it? Good. Here we go.

First, Aussie lightning
Then hard Kentucky Thunder
'Twas a mighty storm

Ricky Skaggs and Kentucky Thunder/Tommy Emmanuel, BB King's Blues Club, NYC, 1/11/09

What I Liked About 2008

Five Really Good Albums (By People I Don't Know Personally):

"Trouble in Mind"--Hayes Carll
"Real Animal"--Alejandro Escovedo
"Eastern Standard Time"--The Magpies
"We Have You Surrounded"--The Dirtbombs
"Asking for Flowers"--Kathleen Edwards

Two Really Good Albums (By People I Know Personally):

"Straight to Red"--Maybe Pete
"Desire To Burn"--Hudson Falcons

Ten Really Good Shows:

Levon Helm Band/Punch Brothers (with special guests Garth Hudson and Cassandra Wilson), Woodstock, NY
Levon Helm Band/Terry Adams Rock and Roll Quartet (with special guest John Sebastian), Woodstock, NY
Waco Brothers/Chris Mills, HighLine Ballroom, NYC
Was (Not Was)/Todd Snider, Blender Theatre, NYC
Slo-Mo/Sue and Steph, Chapter House, Ithaca, NY
The Pogues/Billy Bragg, Roseland, NYC
The Bottle Rockets/Eric Ambel and the Roscoe Trio, Mercury Lounge, NYC
Avett Brothers, The Stone Pony, Asbury Park, NJ
Jason Ringenberg/Maybe Pete, The Saint, Asbury Park, NJ
Tony Clifton, BB King's Blues Club, NYC

Ten Photos I Am Particularly Proud Of:

What I Liked About December

*The 2nd Annual Christmas Eve Dinner, a Movie, and Department Store Window Ogling Extravaganza
*Mom getting out of the hospital ... again (here's hoping she stays out in January)
*Free bowling, Leisure Time Lanes
*Christmas loot


*Crooked Still/Chris and Cassie, Drom, NYC
*Frankie and Kelly McGrath/Chris Skel/Mark Linskey, Fitzgerald's, Clifton, NJ
*The Chambalas Take Manhattan
*Dom Flemons, Googie's Lounge, NYC


*The Star Spangled Waffle, Broadway Diner, Bayonne, NJ
*Maybe Pete, The Saint, Asbury Park, NJ
*Retrieving The Grand Ole Opry from the top shelf at the Strand
*The willingness of people with cars to drive me places