2ndbanana

So I spent the night in the ER and OR at Kaiser.  Bob and I spent yesterday driving around the Rocklin and Loomis areas (some really interesting places up there).  We topped it off with a fabulous dinner at a fish and chips place.  By the time Bob got me home at 6:30, I felt like crap.  I blamed the half oyster I got down (god, those things are vile).  By 9:30, I was wishing for death.  Bob came back and got me and took me to the emergency room.  I've been there a few times in the last couple of years, and they always run a few tests, I start feeling better, they don't find anything, and they send me home.  Much poorer.  I fully expected that to happen last night.  By 1 a.m., they decided I had appendicitis, and it had to come out immediately.  By 3:00, they were cutting me open.  Later on, the surgeon told me the whole thing went very easily, and was over in 20 minutes.  I spent the rest of the morning sharing a room with a cranky 86 year old guy who hated his nurse.  He was pretty nice to  me though.  Bob and Brett and Isaiah kept me company for the last hour or so.  They told me I was free to go by 11 a.m. but I hung around till 1 to make sure I could eat without losing it.  So now I'm home and recovering.  My pain pills aren't doing a darned thing.  I'll try something stronger later.  The really painful part may be yet to come.  Kaiser is under the impression that I owe them $1,400.  Merry Christmas to me.  I thought that I had reached my deductible for the year, and everything after that was free.  I'll have to work that out.  Aaargh.

SOMETIMES they get along.

This photo reminds me of something you'd see in a fourth grade social studies textbook with a caption that says something like "Typical Midwestern backyard gathering in the 1960's."  The cinder block step in front of the slightly askew screen door is classic.  The funny thing about this picture is, that adorable little baby is me.  This is one of several pictures my sisters sent me for Christmas.  According to the date on the side of the picture, I am less than four months old.  The Gingham Girl trying to break my arm is my sister Sherry.  The fashion plate with the hip specs and the pixie 'do in the front is my cousin Susan.  I think I can even spot my sister Laura's head at the bottom.

This picture is so foreign to me.  My family left Iowa soon after my third birthday.  I have almost no memory of having lived there.  Oddly enough, I do clearly remember arriving at our next home in Wisconsin, and little bits about settling in.  Why can't I remember anything just one week earlier?  Or even a few days?  Granted, Wisconsin isn't THAT much different from Iowa.  And I really liked our new town.  But all of my dozens of uncles and aunts and cousins were in Iowa.  I've often wondered what it would have been like to grow up surrounded by a really BIG family.  I think that woman holding me is my Aunt Evelyn.  She died last year.  I barely knew her. 

progbear  posted a very cute photo of his cat.  These are mine.  Moonie, Ringo and Micky.  They like to take over my bed whenever I'm not using it.  And sometimes when I am.

Yet another novelty song from the 70's I've exhumed.  I love YouTube.  This is the Five Man Electrical Band from 1974.  It's like an entire Hammer film in 3:37.  And it's a great performance too.  Though by '74, I don't think anyone was left from the band who recorded "Signs" besides the singer.  But it's killer nonetheless.

I was mowing the lawn the other day when THIS song popped into my head (you'd be amazed at the bizarre stuff running through my head all the time).  It was released in March of 1973, and I probably haven't heard it since shortly after then.  And for 37 goddam years, I haven't been able to figure out what the hell he's saying at the end of the second line.  And then it occurred to me.  Hey, that's what we have the internet for.  "White sock sport."  WHITE SOCK SPORT?????  No wonder I couldn't figure it out.  Now my soul can rest peacefully when I die.
     And then I learned a few things about the song that blew my mind.  This version is actually a re-recording of an earlier, edgier version.  The lyrics to the original version are included in the "more information" box.  Good lord.  Even toned down, this is the most cynical song about hippiedom I've ever heard.  I can dig it.  It's like "Arizona" without the preachiness.  AND, the hit version was produced by Kenny Rogers.  Yes, THAT Kenney Rogers.  Yow.
     You know how when you run across something that you haven't seen/heard since your childhood, a lot of it just isn't as groovy as you remember?  This is actually BETTER than I remember.  This is the coolest vocal arrangement I've heard in a long time.  And the drummer is GREAT.  I wonder who that was.  Now I'm curious about the rest of the album.

Here's a gem I found last night on YouTube.  It's the Clinger Sisters from the Danny Kaye show sometime in the late '60s.  I find it absolutely horrifying.  And totally hypnotic.  I've watched it at least five times now.  Wait a minute... that chick in pink.... the one who thinks she's Janis Joplin... OMIGOD!  It's Superchick from Kaptain Kool and the Kongs!  My mind is totally blown.  Good god, she's awful.

Of course, I'm a huge fan of Kaptain Kool and the Kongs.  As an entertainment entity that is.  I never really thought of them as a "band."  All the publicity from the time tries SO hard to convince us that yes, they REALLY were a band.  But I never believed it.  Sure, Michael Lembeck and Bert Sommer were both competent guitarists.  And Mickey McMeel... heck, he played drums for Three Dog Night.  But I was always totally annoyed by the conspicuous lack of a bass player.   What are these people, the Bugaloos?  Anyway, there's another clip of the Clingers on YouTube where they actually play instruments.  Or hold them, at any rate.  And what is it that little Debbie has in her hot little hands?  A bass guitar (a really groovy looking Hofner, actually).  I guess the world of pre-teens wasn't ready for a female bass player in 1976.  At any rate, Sid and Marty Krofft weren't.  So she got to bang a tambourine, a la Betty Cooper.  Hmmm.. come to think of it, the Kongs duplicated the lineup of the Archies exactly.  Some people have argued that Reggie was the bass player for the band.  If so, he's playing a six string bass.  NOT.

Articles from the 70's about the Kongs also always trumpet that Debbie was one of the CLINGER SISTERS!!!!  As if we should know who that is.  As it turns out, they WERE mildly famous, back in the day.  They were a group of Mormon siblings from Utah who started out singing on the Andy Williams show as small children, and then tried to make the switch to Pop when they got older.  I kid you not.  Yes, they were the Osmonds in dresses.  At least the Osmonds knew how to make the cheese work for them.  These girls are just tacky.  And I can't stop watching them....

Guess which one of my LiveJournal friends is in this picture with me!

Hint: The picture was taken in 1979.

A couple of weeks ago, Bob and I were in line at a local discount emporium when I noticed the gentleman behind us.  He wore what had to be the worst hairstyle I've seen this decade.  Imagine the "Close to You" era Richard Carpenter Prince Valiant 'do on a fifty-something, chubby, jowly man.  And then imagine that he hadn't washed this fabulous coiff for about 2 weeks.  Ewww.  It was so hideously inappropriate, I thought it had to be a wig.  I pointed out this crime of nature to Bob, but he was focused on something else at the time.  

About a week later, Bob and I were breezing through the aisles of a totally different store (well, okay, it was the same store.  But one all the way across town from the other one), and THERE HE WAS AGAIN.  And he still hadn't washed his hair.  At least this time Bob got to see him.  

Earlier today, Bob and I were hungry.  I had noticed yesterday that a deli down the street from where I used to live was under new ownership.  So we decided to go there and try it out.  After perusing their fairly extensive menu and much careful deliberation, I ordered what I always order.  Bob picked out a table right next to the grill, and after I got my soda, I joined him.  And then I noticed who was making my sandwich.  Yes, it was Prince-Valiant-from-Hell.  AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!   At least now that I've seen the back, I know it's not a wig.  Unless they've started making them with bald spots built right in.  

Where will this fashion disaster turn up next?

I have to admit he makes a pretty darned good Reuben sandwich. 

Disclaimer: The following story may be disturbing to children under 2 and various Onlymen. But let me assure you that I am 99% sure that the rehearsal room was not even touched. You should call me anyway to let me know if there's anything missing I am not aware of.

Oh, and no animals were harmed in the production of this post.


This morning at 10:30, I got a call from Bob to tell me that the Police (no, not Andy, Stewart and Sting - those OTHER Police) had called from my house looking for me because there had been a break-in at my house. They came in through the kitchen window (the thieves that is. The cops used the door) at about 9:30. I called the number Bob gave me and reached a police officer who told me that he was currently standing in my dining room. And he told me not to worry because they'd had the police dogs go through my house and there were no burglars left behind. Dogs! I told him, I have cats! He said I shouldn't worry, the dogs are trained not to bother cats. I said, you may know that, and the dogs may know that, but the cats don't! Anyway, I told him I'd be right home.

When I got home about 12 minutes later, there were police cars everywhere. When the break-in occurred, a neighbor heard breaking glass and called the police. They were in the area anyway, so it didn't take them long to get here. My first thought was to locate my cats. The thieves had left my back door open, and Micky and Moonie are always trying to get through that door. They haven't been out of this house in the year that I had them, so I was worried that all the commotion might have scared them so far away, they might get lost. I found Ringo in my bedroom closet pretty quick. But Micky and Moonie were nowhere to be seen. The whole time the police were here, I was preoccupied by my missing cats.

The house was a shambles. They'd pulled everything out of every drawer, and pulled everything off of my closet shelves. But I couldn't immediately see anything missing. In the end, I decided they stole a guitar that was sitting by my bed (a Washburn SBT-21. Not terribly valuable, but hard to find. And I was somewhat fond of it) and both of my digital cameras. Actually, the thieves were probably just stupid kids looking for something easy to carry that they could sell easily. A neighbor saw a couple of kids knocking on my door just before the break-in occurred. I wish I'd paid more attention when she was talking to the police, but I was busy looking for Micky and Moonie. A while after the police left, I thought I heard scratching and a very unhappy cat. Ringo was wandering around mewling too, which made it very hard to figure out where the other sound was coming from. I finally figured out that one of the cats was trapped in a corner behind two bookcases in my front room. It turned out to be Moonie. Well, two down, one to go. I wandered around the house some more, looking for Micky. Finally, he poked his head out of the door of the same room that Moonie had been in. He must have been hiding in the back of the closet. So now I have all my kitties back.

Bob showed up soon after that, and I've spent most of the rest of the day talking to police, a window repairman, insurance people, and security alarm people. It's been a real drag, but it could have been a lot worse. My cats are all safe. Though they're still a bit skittish. My house is swarming with flies from the back door being open. But they keep the cats entertained. And the black widow spider who lives in my bathroom is having a feast.

On the bright side, I got out of a meeting at work today I really didn't want to attend. And I have a good excuse for not going to a jam session tonight that I really wasn't prepared for anyway. And I got a chance to put flea medicine on the cats (which they REALLY needed).

It could have been much worse. But I totally hate knowing that some stranger has been through all my drawers.