The place was packed -probably 300 people. I spotted Ned right away with that outrageous striped straw hat and the pale orange scarf and powder blue shirt. I may have mentioned in this journal (or maybe I didn't) that Ned starts every conversation with "I gotta go". So after the ritual "I gotta go", Ned starts introducing me to all kinds of people whose names I will forget by tomorrow. Then he takes off to commune with Marty. Finally Ned gets up on stage and introduces Marty and the show is underway.
Great show. Marty can make more weird noises with his mouth than my 5 year old niece and my 8 year old niece combined! And do it soulfully. This guy is insanely great. The new songs (ie the Ned Claflin songs) are terrriffic. Worth staying out late for.
This afternoon in Starbuck's Ned told us the guy who books the spoken word nights at a couple of places {I better not name them} approached him 'cause Marty made such a big deal of Ned's songs, and wanted to book Ned for a reading. Cool. Then he asks me and Tom to come and read. Opening for Ned! I can't imagine a weirder experience. I hope he actually does make this happen.
Hop was kind of out of it today because he had dental work done yesterday. Cat dental work is well umm cat dental work. Wilbur's vet insists on general anesthesia. I don't know if the vets downstairs do but Hop sure looked like he'd been on a drug trip.
Jaguar sprayed the dirty laundry pile so it was really stinky when Tibet came over to pick it up. Hey, it could've been worse - he could've sprayed the clean laundry. He did it to the clean dishes in the dish drainer on me one day.
Two of the little feral kittens that were in the sick room moved to the front room today. They'll be adopted in no time.
Despite my not getting there until 9:30, everything was done by quarter to 12:00.
We had a great walk though, up and down lots of little hills and one big hill. We visited graves of people Joan had known, people Priscilla had known, relatives of Harold .... even some people neither had really known but one or both of them knew the person's life and death stories. I started to get a little weirded out. I have no plans for what will happen to my physical remains after death. My Dad is buried in his Dad's plot at a cemetary in Boston. Steven's ashes are scattered all over Connecticut. Kathleen's ashes are in a box in Kevin's living room (or were the last time I checked). Plenty of people know their stories.
So in the midst of all this remains reverie, it starts raining while the sun is still out. Well defined, soft raindrops, a long way apart. Pretty to look at but we've left Harold in his wheelchair at the top of the hill and Priscilla has the car keys so he's gonna get rained on if we don't hurry back. By the time we get to the top of the hill the rain has stopped again and Harold isn't wet after all. Priscilla and Harold head home. Joan heads off to do errands. I come home to clean Wilbur's box. Another small town day in North Andover.
So now I've created real pressure to buy the new system, which makes the procrastination all the more satisfying :-) What good is procrastination if there's no deadline to squeeze against?
At some point, Annette will start calling me. Then I'll have to do something.