of Cliffhangers, kick-ball teams, and the horrors.

Seems I left the last post with a bit of a cliffhanger.

did I suck? Did I kick ass? Did I spontaneously explode from a deadly mixture of Guinness and adrenaline?

Not so much.

So where the hell have I been?

Well. There's work to do. Flying monkeys to feed. Nieces to see perform. You know, normal stuff.

So allow me to digress, expand, condense and allude.

First, the show went great. I arrived at the pub to see friends who had already arrived.

There was a moment of shear terror when I realized there was no power outlet anywhere near the performance stage. Luckily, thanks to my wife, I am a serious over packer, and the extension cord I grabbed from my electric lawnmower was just long enough to reach up to the ceiling plug usually designed to illuminate the neon beer signs.

Also lucky enough my friend Brian was able to reach the plug while standing on a bar stool. Its nice to have friends. Its even nicer to have tall friends.

There was another moment of panic when as I began to do a sound check, half of the room screamed a powerful scream of angst. I was deafened by the roar of their furry and almost began to tear up.

But a second later I realized that the TV behind me was showing the last few minutes of a ball game that ended badly for the local fans. Whew. Although I did go to the bathroom shortly afterward to make sure I didn't have a little urine stain on my jeans.

Just before I was to begin, my wife was calling furiously because her and Frank had gotten hopelessly lost. Bless em.

Large group of women wearing league t-shirts entered the pub. It was the local kickball team.

Digest that for a moment.

A freaking kickball team!

I hoped they'd stay and get rowdy. But they went outside.

Too bad.

An impromptu kickball game in the middle of my second set would have been the kind of thing only dreamers dream.

I started my first song, no wife in sight. I stopped after the first verse to adjust my PA. Total amateur. But the levels were painful. I went through the first song again. Much better.

I got through the second song, wife walks in. I mention this fact to the crowd. I begin to play "I've just seen a face" by the Beatles. Awesome timing.

I adjust my PA some more. I rearrange the speaker so I can hear myself better. I'm a little bashful. Not nervous, just weirdly shy.

And the whole night went just like that. I was fully warmed by my second set, and then just rocked out.

It was a good two hours. All of my friends stayed. No one had the painful after show look that says "Gee, I don't know what to say" There were a few bar flies that stayed a little longer to listen, but I did get the feeling that the bar tabs that night weren't unusually high. No one got trashed. The bar tender was congenial, but not overly enthusiastic, he may invite me back. I'm not sure.

The point is, I did it. It was good. I'll do it again. Soon.

Then I went home. Went to sleep. Slept hard. Went to work the next day a little tired but flush from a successful show. Went home, went to bed. Got up. Went to work. Went home. Took a nap. Went to see a show. Got home. Finished my book.

I could do this I think, I could be a gigging musician and have a real job, be a real dad and maintain some semblance of cool. In fact the most draining aspect was the fear of anticipation.

One or two more gigs and even that will wind itself down.

I have all my friends to thank for showing up. They were somethin special. Nobody has better fans. I simply could not do this without their support and love.

I want to write more about my niece's show last night (Little Shop of Horrors) where I got to witness something spectacular, but the little guy needs attention.

ooh . . . another cliffhanger.