Man on the Run

Loveless is the greatest record ever made.

My parents came to visit from England last week. They are staying for two weeks altogether, although right now they are visiting friends in Toronto (that's right, SARS Central). They arrived last Thursday evening and very bravely came straight down to the Commons to see the open mic at Junas, at what must have been two in the morning their time. The open mic was a success once again thanks largely to Sarah Holmes and her bluesy lullabies, dapper Curtis with his dobro and Charlie Patton stylings, Jenny Young's plaintive songs, and a new person named Raven who played a couple of driving blues rockers on a hollow bodied semi-acoustic with the tone knob turned all the way down for maximum blues effect

Dammit! A whole blog entry just vanished from the edit window. I didn't touch nuffin' I swear. I'd just finished describing the long-weekend Kate and I took to Key Largo two weekends ago to celebrate the end of Kate's first year of lawschool. Things did not start well. The car broke down ten miles from Newark airport. Alternator. Our friendly, Russian, AAA tow-truck guy towed the car to a garage in Maplewood, New Jersey, then rushed us in his truck to the airport where we just made our flight. Kate was horrified when I told her I tipped the guy forty bucks, and in retrospect, I am slightly horrified too, but at the time it didn't seem much considering he rescued our vacation from the ashes. He didn't have to taxi us to the terminal. He's just a tow-truck guy.

After that the weekend went smoothly. For three leisurely days in Key Largo we snorkelled and swam, drank beer and rum cocktails under the tikki bar and happily listened to successive poolside singers take on Margaritaville.