Blogging from Beantown

Sitting in the Diesel cafe in Boston, er, Cambridge (like it matters) right now. Big comfy couches and all-day wireless access for $6.95. Decent!

Sharon and I have just finished a weekend of workshops that went pretty well and are taking a vegetation day in between jobs. The Saturday workshop here was rockin'. Lots of good people very open to improving. We made up some dope material and things were good. Sunday was a little more sketchy due to the fact that it was a first attempt at a teacher training workshop for us. We've kicked around the idea for years and finally had the balls to experiment with it up here. Mostly, it was good and we now have some great ideas about how to improve it in the future and turn it in to an actual 3 day event. Some parts were dicey though and I just hate that feeling. Ah well, no risk, no reward.

Now we are on our way up to Swing Out New Hampshire to teach for 5 days. It's one of our favorite camps to do, so all is well, even though we're tired.

I love things that make no money...

There. I've said it. High time I admitted that. Been living that way forever anyhow.

I do wonder what draws me to these things though. I mean, geez, I teach swing dancing for a living, I play the ukulele, I make audio documentaries, I do improv comedy. Lucky if you can scrape together coffee money if you are great at a number of those things. So what is it that drives me so strongly to them? I think it's 2 things. One, they're just different. They are all weird little subcultures and I dig that. There are very few people in the world that give a crap about any of them, but the ones who do, care about them with a passion. And 2, because they are all weird little subcultures, they have little chance of being cheapened by Madison Avenue, or anyone for that matter. The chances of a ukulele being exploited for financial gain are exactly zero. Nothing I do is sexy or would sell toothpaste and I really like that.

They also, without exception, fly in the face of the "do what you love and the money will follow" addage. Or maybe they don't and it's just that the money following me is about a buck fifty.

Lights, no camera, action...

Well, just one more rehearsal for my improv team and we'll be going "live". Rehearsals have been going well of late but it doesn't stop me from being nervous. We'll do fine, I'm sure, it's just that you really want to hit a home run on your first at bat. Come and see us if you are in the Chapel Hill area on Friday the 21st at The Inside Scoop on Airport road. Three bux and you get to laugh. Did I mention the ice cream?

Speaking of improv, I spilled the beans about my idea to put together a neo-vaudeville show to Ross and Zach over beers the other night and they encouraged me to do it. So, I'm gonna. Nothing like commitment to get the ball rolling. I'd like to do the format the same as an old vaudeville show. Eight acts, 90 minutes. Now I just have to dig up some kooks in the area. Hopefully, that wont be too hard.

Best night ever...

I've just had it.

Let me preface this by saying that I was matched with my little brother, A.J., last week and just as I suspected, he is an awesome kid. We hit it off right away and things are already going great.

So, tonight I took him to go see the Durham Bulls play a double header against our hated division rivals, the Richmond Braves. The kid had never been to a baseball game before (WHAT?), so I knew it would be a good time all around. What I didn't know is that it would be one of the best nights of my life so far.

At the beginning of the game A.J. was having a blast running through one of those huge ass blow up mazes with slides and stuff and after he did that about fifty times, we got some food and found our seats. I was having a great time explaining the game to him and telling him about all the players and how since we were sitting so close that he'd have to be ready to either catch or duck any foul balls that came our way. Well, about half an inning after that, Johnny Gomes (SS, Bulls) hits a screaming foul ball right at us, or rather, at the old lady's head who was sitting next to me. So I reached over and bare-handed it with my LEFT hand, non-chalantly handing it to my little brother while simultaneously acknowleging the cheers of the crowd and trying to ignore the searing fireball of pain that was now inhabiting the space where my hand used to be. Suffice to say, I was having a lot of feelings all at once.

Now, understand that I have never once, in all the thousands of games that I have been to, glove in hand, caught a foul ball. I dug one out of the seats once in Oakland about five years ago, but that was the closest I've ever come. They have fallen just inches from me and I have even had one brush my finger tips as it fell gently in to another fan's glove. It is definitely an "always the bridesmaid" kind of situation. Or was. Because tonight, was my night. I was an instant hero to my little brother, the crowd dug it, and the old lady next to me was grateful that she still had a face. Just made me want to look up and say "thanks". So that's what I did.

Littles...

Sharon and her new little sister Zadia.