I can’t believe I ate... Oh, never mind.

As you’ve been waiting to hear, the jazz concert yesterday afternoon went very well. I even had my debut as egg beater. In three pieces our drummer played vibraphone, and I was conscripted to play the egg as rhythm percussion. I did all right. There was a reception afterwards and I pigged out on crackers, cheese and fruit. Everyone thought I was wonderful, no one believed I was old enough to have a son Buddy Boy’s age, and the band even sold four CDs. It would be nice if we got more gigs out of it, but there’s no guarantee in these matters. My brother took a video of our encore, Autumn Leaves, and if it ends up on UTube, as I have a feeling it will, I’ll post a link.

This afternoon the Duchess arranged for my brother to meet someone who has Hamm0nd B3 organs in his barn. He’s a dairy farmer whose family has settled these parts since the mid-1700’s and who is now facing expropriation so that the highway bypass can miss the town’s main intersection. He showed us his instruments and they all had a wonderful time playing them.

This evening we had our drummer and his girlfriend over for dinner, which I made, of course, and which was scrumptious. Barbecued wild salmon, green salad, corn on the cob, rigatoni with tapenade (I won’t do that again; pesto is so much better), and apple crumble (which I did not make) with ice cream for dessert. We ate outside until the mosquitoes forced us indoors at the end.

My brother returns to his home tomorrow and my life, hopefully, will return to a semblance of normal.

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