So here it is.
Beauty comes from within.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Eve
I was remiss in not including a nice photo I took of Eve before the Chris Fitz show last Saturday.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Fresh Breeze
Though I will always love the winter season, I am glad to be in the middle of spring right now. Some mental house cleaning was/is in order. And I am more than glad March is behind us. April was OK but a bit on the damp side. Anyway, E and I didn’t let the post-winter malaise slow us down. We got back out to what we love to do and that included the live music scene, and rolling the paths on bicycles.
We've posted before on a place we like to hit up for the live music experience, the Acton Jazz Café. We’re promoting it again here because we’d like everyone to support this little venue. Saw a rockin’ blues group there a week ago: The Chris Fitz Band. Live blues are our cup of tea for getting loose. I chatted up the proprietor of the café, Gwen Vivian, who is a professional vocalist.
She has managed to keep the place open for 14 years…behind a bank of all places, and in doing so has not only enriched the community, but also provided a forum for other musicians to share their creative works. If you get a chance to catch a show there say hello to her, Gwen is very accessible and friendly. What a nice cozy feel the place has. Gwen has a website for the AJC so you can see what the upcoming line up looks like. You can find it at http://www.actonjazzcafe.com/. The mission statement she has put up on the website for the AJC says it all. Come on, what are you waiting for?
On a lesser note, I have to admit that, somehow, every time I drive there I manage to overlook the building and have to bang a gangster style turn on two wheels just to make the parking lot. Folded the tires over trying to make the drive way last time. Missed. But I got across the front walk way and lawn alright. E hates my driving. I say she is a nervous nelly. It was night time. And the lot was dark..
E and I have been talking about writing a little bit more about our enjoyment with the various forms of art that not only include music, but the visual arts, and dance, and things one can also experience through the tactile senses like jewelry and other hand crafts. I guess it’s really about creativity. Come to think of it, E does interior design and decorating, so I think it will be cool to cover some of the styles of homes she has done in the area.
I envy those who have the talent to create something beautiful. So maybe we have a chance to write something interesting about those who create, and their works, over the next several posts. For our own part, we can share what we experience. We are definitely going to fire the Latin dancing back up. There is an old post from a blog E and I used to write to, but discontinued. At that time we were active with Latin dancing and had a short story to tell of one night on the practice floor. We'll put that one up next time.
For this post we’d like to share a little bit of what we took away from last Saturday evening. We can’t offer much about the artist, Chris Fitz, because we didn’t get a chance to talk with him. But he’s a Boston local who has been plying and refining his craft for a while now. He and his band definitely have the chops. Enjoy.
We've posted before on a place we like to hit up for the live music experience, the Acton Jazz Café. We’re promoting it again here because we’d like everyone to support this little venue. Saw a rockin’ blues group there a week ago: The Chris Fitz Band. Live blues are our cup of tea for getting loose. I chatted up the proprietor of the café, Gwen Vivian, who is a professional vocalist.
She has managed to keep the place open for 14 years…behind a bank of all places, and in doing so has not only enriched the community, but also provided a forum for other musicians to share their creative works. If you get a chance to catch a show there say hello to her, Gwen is very accessible and friendly. What a nice cozy feel the place has. Gwen has a website for the AJC so you can see what the upcoming line up looks like. You can find it at http://www.actonjazzcafe.com/. The mission statement she has put up on the website for the AJC says it all. Come on, what are you waiting for?
On a lesser note, I have to admit that, somehow, every time I drive there I manage to overlook the building and have to bang a gangster style turn on two wheels just to make the parking lot. Folded the tires over trying to make the drive way last time. Missed. But I got across the front walk way and lawn alright. E hates my driving. I say she is a nervous nelly. It was night time. And the lot was dark..
E and I have been talking about writing a little bit more about our enjoyment with the various forms of art that not only include music, but the visual arts, and dance, and things one can also experience through the tactile senses like jewelry and other hand crafts. I guess it’s really about creativity. Come to think of it, E does interior design and decorating, so I think it will be cool to cover some of the styles of homes she has done in the area.
I envy those who have the talent to create something beautiful. So maybe we have a chance to write something interesting about those who create, and their works, over the next several posts. For our own part, we can share what we experience. We are definitely going to fire the Latin dancing back up. There is an old post from a blog E and I used to write to, but discontinued. At that time we were active with Latin dancing and had a short story to tell of one night on the practice floor. We'll put that one up next time.
For this post we’d like to share a little bit of what we took away from last Saturday evening. We can’t offer much about the artist, Chris Fitz, because we didn’t get a chance to talk with him. But he’s a Boston local who has been plying and refining his craft for a while now. He and his band definitely have the chops. Enjoy.
Friday, April 2, 2010
A good doggie
My lovely golden retriever, Libby, passed away on Tuesday March 30. She was 12 years old. Though her health was in rapid decline this year, the actual cause of her death was a tumble down a flight of stairs in our house. She suffered a spinal cord injury and there was no hope of her recovery. Watching her helplessly as she went into convulsions from shock, and then struggle to get up, was one of the most painful things I have ever experienced. More so when our eyes met, and I knew that she knew she was seriously injured.
She would have been 13 on June 24 of this year, but a rapid drop off in her health as we entered this New Year convinced me she was not going to make it that far. I don’t know why her health deteriorated so fast. It became obvious when family members started noticing she was not eating. By January or February of this year I noticed she could not even make the 15 minute walk around the block that we used to take in the morning and evening. She got slower and slower, and by the last few weeks could only go down our street about 40 yards to do her business.
My doggie used to greet me from the porch when I came home from work; getting up spritely to wag her tail at my approach up the drive way. But that changed and she no longer even acknowledged my presence as I came up the porch steps. I suspect she was in physical discomfort but it was never apparent to me if it was more than sore joints. I could tell her hips were bothering her by the way she walked, but there was always an uneasy feeling within me that she had, as of late, more problems that were unseen. Libby never complained.
I will miss her, and I now feel bad that I was always complaining about the fact she shed all over the house, and smelled like a walking barn yard. I have pictures of her and a short video to keep in remembrance of her. But my fondest memories will be of the times we used to go to the park and run around like kids together, and how much she loved the ocean on those very rare times we included her in a trip to the beach. I wish we had done more of that together.
Our daughter Nichole brought home a little surprise last year. A Yorkie named Zoi.
Libby tolerated the interloper well enough but kept her dignified distance from the little dust mop. Zoi would nip at Libby now and then to get Libby to play, but nothing doing, when the old girl was good and comfortable she wasn’t going to move for anybody. I would discover this fact every time I would get up in the middle of the night to make a visit to the bathroom, only to stumble and trip over her inert mass sprawled at the foot of the bed. I would just about break a leg, or pop a hernia, gyrating through evasive maneuvers and recovery. The dog wouldn’t even lift her head to see if I made out all right. In an earlier day she would have used that bit of slap stick to go to the door in anticipation of going out to romp around.
Libby was one of the best friends I ever had, and there won’t be another one like her again.
She would have been 13 on June 24 of this year, but a rapid drop off in her health as we entered this New Year convinced me she was not going to make it that far. I don’t know why her health deteriorated so fast. It became obvious when family members started noticing she was not eating. By January or February of this year I noticed she could not even make the 15 minute walk around the block that we used to take in the morning and evening. She got slower and slower, and by the last few weeks could only go down our street about 40 yards to do her business.
My doggie used to greet me from the porch when I came home from work; getting up spritely to wag her tail at my approach up the drive way. But that changed and she no longer even acknowledged my presence as I came up the porch steps. I suspect she was in physical discomfort but it was never apparent to me if it was more than sore joints. I could tell her hips were bothering her by the way she walked, but there was always an uneasy feeling within me that she had, as of late, more problems that were unseen. Libby never complained.
I will miss her, and I now feel bad that I was always complaining about the fact she shed all over the house, and smelled like a walking barn yard. I have pictures of her and a short video to keep in remembrance of her. But my fondest memories will be of the times we used to go to the park and run around like kids together, and how much she loved the ocean on those very rare times we included her in a trip to the beach. I wish we had done more of that together.
Our daughter Nichole brought home a little surprise last year. A Yorkie named Zoi.
Libby tolerated the interloper well enough but kept her dignified distance from the little dust mop. Zoi would nip at Libby now and then to get Libby to play, but nothing doing, when the old girl was good and comfortable she wasn’t going to move for anybody. I would discover this fact every time I would get up in the middle of the night to make a visit to the bathroom, only to stumble and trip over her inert mass sprawled at the foot of the bed. I would just about break a leg, or pop a hernia, gyrating through evasive maneuvers and recovery. The dog wouldn’t even lift her head to see if I made out all right. In an earlier day she would have used that bit of slap stick to go to the door in anticipation of going out to romp around.
Libby was one of the best friends I ever had, and there won’t be another one like her again.
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