three years, and counting...

Long time, no post, huh? Yes, it's true. I've been lazy. It's not just laziness, though, I say in my defense. It's a) my job, which demands that I sit in front of a computer 8 hours a day and read about U.S. politics, which can be a little bit of a burnout and a definite turnoff on all things computer-screen, and b) I've been sick for what seems like many weeks.

I was starting to write a "Spring Is Here" post, so excited was I that the sun was shining on consecutive days and the temperatures had climbed gently into the 60s and the 70s. That beautiful, soft, delicate quality of spring was filling me with quiet joy.

There are mysterious little plants in the yard, right off our patio, that have popped their furled young green heads out of the frozen tundra that was. The previous tenant must have planted them, so we have no idea what they are. The suspense makes it fun, and I had gotten into the habit of tiptoeing stealthily onto the patio in the mornings to inspect the tiny green troops. There are definitely going to be flowers.

Notice, however, the operative "going to be." I say this with disgust because in the past two weeks, the temperature has been swinging in a range from 80 to 36, there have been innumerable rainy windy gray days, and I have been stricken with some kind of horrible viral plague.

Nevertheless, I hold to my hope that spring will arrive, and soon. As they say, Hope springs eternal. Hee hee hee. Very apropos.

Yesterday wasn't half-bad, despite a dramatic wild and sudden blast of rain and wind late in the late afternoon, early evening. We sat outside, drinking champagne at the patio table, watching the sky darken and the wind sough in the trees until the pelting rain forced us inside, damp and laughing.

It's our third anniversay today. We had the extraordinary good fortune to meet three years ago, late one night in a club in Paris. Our paths crossed that evening, never to be disentangled. Yes, an aura of inevitability. I feel very mushy and romantic. Mmmmmmm. I love feeling soft like that. Mike always makes me feel that way. How lovely.

Last night was a Lonnie gig, at Legends, a club that I've always liked quite a bit -- appropriately dark and seedy, but not too much of a dive; big, but not too big; pool tables in the back (always important for purposes of ambiance); good big bar when you walk in, comfortable to lounge at.

I love hearing and watching Lonnie. There have been far too few Lonnie gigs in recent times, and I'm sad about that. I love watching/hearing Mike play with Lonnie, too. The two bands -- Lonnie's band and the BMR4 -- are qualitatively different experiences, and I realized again last night how much I enjoy Lonnie.

A few months ago, after a long hiatus when I barely saw Lonnie at all, I went to a gig of his at Fitzgerald's. It's a bar that I like, and it seems that he does too. When he walked out on to the stage, hat, boots and a red western shirt, and played the first few chords, and sang the first few words, I realized how much of an oomph presence he has. But I've always known that Lonnie shines.

Mike says he doesn't have anything to say... It's all been said.