Killer cats

 ON THE ONE hand, the three cats that live in my garage are the sweetest and most innocent felines you've ever met.

On the other, I have pieces of rabbit all over my backyard.

The cats were dumped here by their momma about a year ago. They've all been fixed, and mama is long gone. Taylor, Martin and Bigsby sleep in my garage during the day, and at night they are on animal and bunny patrol. And bird patrol. Even squirrel patrol.

A year ago momma brought baby rabbits for them to play with, and ultimately to eat. Gross? Yes. Nature running its often cruel course? Of course! I'm not getting in the way of that, even though one day they used a baby rabbit eyeball to play soccer on the concrete patio.

They brought me an adult robin the other day. Well, most of it. I cleaned the garage two weeks ago and now I'm afraid to really look again, because they tend to decapitate birds in there. And they are so proud! Look what we brought you, human! Now buy us better kibble or we'll bring even bigger and fatter birds in there!

This morning there was half of a large rabbit by the patio. The cats purred and purred. It must have been an epic hunt in the alley overnight. And they won! They decided to tear the head off first and work their way down. No wonder most of the food I put out this morning didn't get eaten. 

I took some pictures, but Facebook says my last few posts have "violated community standards," whatever the $#@#$# that means. I can email them to you if you want. 

Bunnies are cute and it's Easter and I really should scold them for being killers - like it's going to do any good. Right now Martin is out there starting at the big backyard tree, because there are two squirrels having a confab on a low-level branch. One of these days the squirrels won't be quite fast enough - and it will be squirrel sushi stew time in Calftown.

Thanks for the Easter gift, cats. It's the gift that keeps on giving - if you count bunny fur and bones scattered all over my backyard.

Baxter and the 33rd Street plaque

 I DRIVE ON 33rd Street between Maine and Broadway three or four times a day for work. It has never occurred to me how the street came to be, why it was built, or what it took to build the street. It's only a few blocks long and connects the Quincy schools with Broadway, the city's busiest corridor. 

I kept seeing a plaque in front of the movie theater, but I never stopped to check it out until yesterday. It's dedicated to a Quincy man named C. Rodney Baxter. He passed away nearly 50 years ago. C. Rodney was instrumental in road and construction projects around here, including 33rd street, so the plaque was put up to honor him.

First of all, and most importantly, it's nice to see somebody else from around here who had Rodney as a middle name. And I thought I was the only one. Silly me! I hope C. Rodney's family is still around and realizes he's remembered as an important part of Quincy's history.

If you think about it, 33rd Street is huge. It takes a lot of traffic away from 30th and 36th Streets, which are frequently clogged. There's the YMCA building on Maine just west of 33rd, and there are several large bank buildings at 33rd and Broadway. And, of course, the big theater just south of Broadway. Without 33rd, those buildings couldn't exist.

I avoid Maine Street between 36th and 30th around 2:30 p.m. on school days, because that's when Quincy High School gets out. Could you imagine the chaos if there was no 33rd Street? It's a little nutty there as it is at dismissal time.

The plaque is easy to miss. The next time you are at the theater or in that area, check it out. It's a great way to remember C. Rodney. I will say hello to him three or four times a day from now on. 

Buskers needed at Farmer's Market

 IF YOU ARE an acoustic musician and looking for places to play, the weekly Quincy Farmer's Market might be a good opportunity.

The market is every Saturday morning starting in May. It's put on by The District and takes place in Washington Park, on the north side of the square across from Washington Theater. The District is looking for acoustic performers to "busk," or play for tips. I believe they are looking for people who can play and accompany themselves .... no singing to tracks, etc.

If the weather is decent, and almost every Saturday morning is beautiful in the summer, you could make a few bucks. I'm all about performers being paid, and this one kind of falls between the cracks - but there are some big advantages to doing it.

It's getting harder and harder to find places to play in Quincy. This is a really laid back environment where people will give you a listen while browsing the various vendors. There is no pressure. The expression "it's good exposure" is awful and offensive to musicians - we don't need exposure as much as we need good places to play and being rewarded for the effort.

Track down Brianna Rivera at The District office for more info. Maybe we will see you in the park this summer!

Napoleon Dynamite dance - PERFECT!

 MY POP CULTURE is not your pop culture. The older I get the more I reason and try to understand why it has to be that way.

It ain't working.

New Faces was at Quincy High School over the weekend. It was really long (three hours and 15 minutes), and there were amazing acts. These are young people busting  their butts to entertain and express themselves through music, theater, dance and other ways. A young person who screws the courage up to perform in front of a big audience and their friends is a beautiful thing. So it was a good night.

The jazz bands were awesome. It was great to see former guitar students Tad and Zeke Bates jamming up there. And, of course, the trombone playing ruled, Natalie Wiemelt!

Former guitar student Maddie Daggett performed "The Ballad of Lucy Gray" from the Hunger Games, and she killed it. I was in awe. I think Maddie even surprised herself. She took lessons at Second String Music when she was smaller than her guitar. I'm like a proud papa watching her play and sing.

My favorite act was by Charly Nicholson. She did the dance scene from Napoleon Dynamite, and  nailed it. I mean, she crushed every move and I almost fell out of my chair from laughing.

But nobody got it. There were sporadic cheers for a few of her moves, but that's it. Watch the scene from the movie here, or below. If Charly was going for the same audience reaction as in the movie, she got it. Maybe that was the point - few people in the QHS Auditorium understood just how funny it was, because few got the Napoleon Dynamite humor and background. At the end I think there was an awakening because Charly got a pretty good ovation.

Their pop culture isn't mine. It kept me awake Friday night/Saturday morning. It doesn't take much to lose sleep. And I just realized Napoleon Dynamite came out 20 years ago. My. Head. Hurts.

The other night Allison Hutson and I were practicing for our show this Saturday at Quincy Brewing Company (7 p.m., get there early!). I suggested the Sam Cooke song What A Wonderful World from the movie Animal House. 

"I've never seen it," Allison said, rather sheepishly.

WHAT? How is that possible? I know my socks are older than Allison, but come on! Animal House? John Belushi? The zit scene? The marching band marching into a wall? Seven years of college down the drain? The Germans bombing Pearl Harbor?

Then again, maybe there are good reasons for us being so messed up as we climb into our 60s. And it came out in 1978. Ugh.

Anyway, kudos to Charly for killing it with the Napoleon Dynamite routine. She was brilliant. And kudos to everybody involved in New Faces. It was a great show.

Men - get checked!

 I JUST GOT back from the annual physical by my family doctor. I didn't want to go. I was a day late. But I got it done.

On the one hand, it's not that much time. My doctor, Luc Tchapnda of Blessing Health System, is excellent. I'll get some labs and they will check the oil and make sure everything is up to snuff, and I'm good for another year.

On the other hand, I hate going to the doctor. It isn't cheap, even with good insurance. And I messed up and thought the appointment was this morning, when in fact it was actually yesterday morning. The office manager was amazingly patient and so was the nurse. Thank goodness the appointment was first thing in the morning and they could get me in. Look - if you want me to be your patient, you'd better expect a certain level of ... of .... wait. It's a medical term. Oh yeah! DumbAssery! 

As I'm creeping up on the dreaded 60th birthday, it's also time to think about a colonoscopy. Again, Dr. Luc was great and he referred me to a Blessing doctor to get it done. They will call me next week. For these kind of procedures, just getting in can be the toughest part. Dr. Luc made it easy.

Men, listen carefully. We are the worst when it comes to the medical stuff. We don't want to do it. Yet a simple yearly physical and a colonoscopy starting at age 45 is not hard. It. Can. Save. Your. LIFE.

I am biased, of course. I work for Blessing. For years I went to the awesome Rick Noble at Quincy Medical Group and he always took care of me. Sometimes you have to make health care choices based on insurance, so I moved to Blessing last year and it's worked out.

I am lucky and grateful to be in good health, despite falling off stages, getting scratched by cats and being addicted to snacks. I walk more than five miles a day doing this job, and that might be why I feel really good.

Men - take care of yourselves. We have excellent health care providers in Quincy and the surrounding area. Don't put off an annual checkup - this goes for eye care and dental, too. And, in my case, getting the ears cleaned out.

Be happy and healthy - they go together!

 

Identifying with songs

EVER GO THROUGH phases and get obsessed with songs? They just reach out and grab you. I'm playing in a couple of groups right learning songs and it's amazing how they worm their way into your brain and won't let go.

Eric Carmen recently passed away. He was one of the great voices of 70s rock with The Raspberries. Their song "Go All The Way" is on auto-repeat around here and every time I listen there is something new going on. In my guitar lessons we study chord progressions and why certain chords and notes sound good (this is also called "music theory," an ugly term we avoid]. "Go All The Way" ignores standard progressions and careens all over the place, yet comes back to rock and roll. It's like somebody took time to actually write a song. The live version is sublime.

Last night Allison Hutson and I got together and practiced a few songs and listened to others. She's now enamored with Eric Carmen's "Hungry Eyes" from the Dirty Dancing movie, and we might give it a shot at our March 30 show at Quincy Brewing Company.

A song I really hope Allison and I do is Lauren Daigle's "Hold On To Me." You could sing this in church on a Sunday morning or stop traffic in a bar on Saturday night. It's not easy to make choices and then lose friends over it. Sometimes songs help you get through life. Enough said.

Allison wants to do a Jonas Brothers song called "Montana Sky." My first reaction was, what? By who? I forced myself to listen. And listen. And listen again. Now it’s grabbed me. We are doing it a week from Saturday. 

You gotta open your mind when you play with younger people, or play songs from genres you don't normally care about.  

Another band I'm hanging out with is Prospect Road. We have a show this Saturday in Clayton at a place called Shorteez. Among the songs we may or may not play is "Angel From Montgomery," the John Prine classic. Bonnie Raitt's version is ghostly and gut-wrenching - how did I not listen to this years ago?

In the last verse, Raitt sings, "How the hell does someone/Go to work in the morning/Come home in the evening/With nothing to say?"

You can't tell me you haven't been there. Thank you, John Prine, for writing songs about our lives. And thank you, Bonnie Raitt, for searing it into my soul.

If you see me walking into walls at Blessing Hospital or wandering around the hallways in a dazed circle, it's probably because I have a song stuck in my head and I'm trying to get it out. Either that or I can't find the Urology office. Focus man! Focus! 

Nah. I'll let it ring around the brain. It will help me get through the day. 

 

 

New Faces ... again

 THE ANNUAL QUINCY High School New Faces talent show is this Thursday, Friday and Saturday. The students put on a variety of performances, mostly musical and theatrical. I've gone the last two years and the shows were very long but had some amazing acts.

I got a message from the mom of a former guitar student. She was maybe the best student I ever had and is now a junior or senior at QHS. She auditioned and earned a spot in New Faces singing and playing by herself. I've heard she's really, really good. I know she can play but to hear her singing will be a joy. Her mom got me a ticket for Friday's show and I can't wait.

In 2009, Emily was in several acts. Her "Beans Beans Beans" skit with her friend Ginny was tremendous, and Emily's role in the Hollywood Squares parody was epic. She portrayed legendary Quincy Public School's music teacher Kathi Dooley, complete with the wig and large key chain. I remember her infamous line "Jesus was in show choir!" and the entire auditorium coming unglued from laughter. They still talk about it today.

The music and performing arts programs at Quincy Public Schools are second to none. Emily is finishing up her doctoral degree at Eastman School of Music in Rochester, N.Y., and she got a great foundation in Quincy. It will be fun to see the latest batch of Blue Devils singing, playing, dancing and acting at the QHS Auditorium. 

Coffee shop returns to 503 Maine

 GLAD TO HEAR the news about a business using 503 Maine again, almost six years to the day Electric Fountain Brewing opened at the location.

We owned the former historic Dodd Building at Fifth and Maine and had Second String Music on the main floor, and renovated the old bank vault space and leased it out to several businesses. When we heard Ryan Christian was closing his original EFB location on Sixth Street (later the home to the Tap Room, now vacant), we asked him to take a look at 503 Maine.

It was the first-floor bank vault for Mercantile Bank and had some of the original features, though much had been altered over the years. The plumbing and electrical systems got updated and EFB  did well in the space until Covid hit four years ago. 

I loved the strong coffee smells and noises that came from the space. We even had Frank Haxel put in a door so people could walk right from the coffee shop to the music store. 

Later we leased 503 out to the Adams County Democratic party. The basement vault was also leased out, and the second floor was occupied. In the winter it was always a joy to see lights coming out of the first two floors of the old building.

We sold the building to Andrew Mays and Brian Hendrian, and closed Second String Music nearly two years ago. The Democrats left 503 Maine, and Isaac Smith closed his recording studio in the corner space of the second floor about a year ago. The other part of the second floor is still being used.

I drive past the building every afternoon about 4:30 returning from my lab run to Blessing Health Hannibal. Usually it's a smile or a good memory that comes back, and the recent warm weather brought back a lot of memories of store parties and Friday afternoons on the sidewalk.

Good luck to the new business at 503 Maine. It's a great spot and has lots of positive vibes. I'll stop in for a coffee some Saturday morning and think about the great times we had at Fifth and Maine. Here's to many more!

Picture yourself on a bag of chips

 I'M DONE. FINISHED. There is nothing left in the field of frivolous entertainment. I've reached the height, the summit, the very top. Coco and I are retiring to a Lake Michigan beach that time forgot and contemplating just how quickly the ascent took place.

That's right. My picture is on a bag of Rap Snacks. 

It started yesterday with an inane blog about Rap Snacks, which uses rappers to promote chips, popcorn and noodles. Yes. Noodles. As usual, what I thought was just a throw-away went viral. My phone blew up and everybody at work wanted to know more about Rap Snacks.

Allison Huber put a comment on my Facebook post. Then she posted the picture. Who knew it was that easy? Apparently you can go to Rap Snacks page and click on a bag, upload your photo, and boom. You are a rap star and on a bag of snacks. What else is there in life?

We could have Cheeseburger chips, HartLess Salsa, Whatevers Whisps, Prospect Road Dip, Travis and Rodney Gut-Wrench Colon Cleanse Tacos. The possibilities! 

Wait. Somebody actually went to the time and effort to put my picture on a bag of chips? I'm okay with it, if somewhat bemused. The photo is from a legendary Second String Music store party some years ago, which explains the dazed look on my face and the fact I remember none of it. In other words, perfect for Rap Snacks.

This Rap Snacks thing keeps getting better and better. Here's a company that openly encourages you to pirate their copyrighted product by putting your picture on it. It's marketing genius, really. 

So it's all that and a bag of chips. I'm not sure I can cope with the fame. Coco will keep me grounded. 

This doesn't mean I actually have to eat Rap Snacks, does it?

Rap Snacks is a thing

 THE OTHER DAY at the 48th Street lab, a Blessing employee who shall remain nameless (her initials are Kasie) was eating a bag of chips made by Rap Snacks. The bag had a rapper on it called Lil Baby. Apparently Lil is huge in the rap world.

I'm not up on my hip hop artists. To get educated I should call my former Herald-Whig compadre Don O'Brien, who was a bottomless pit of rap knowledge. I'm pretty sure Don eats Rap Snacks.

Anyway, Rap Snacks is a thing. They make all kinds of snacks and put all kinds of famous rappers on the bags. They are only $1.93 an ounce if you order them from Amazon. The chips Kasie had were salt and vinegar flavored, and she graciously offered me one. It wasn't bad! Actually, it was overloaded with seasoning, which is a huge selling point in greasy and bad-for-you snacks. "I think I need to drink a gallon of water now," Kasie said, after handing off the half-full bag.

The chips were purchased by another lab person, Jody. "I bought them at a gas station halfway between here and Kansas City," she said. Intrigued, I did some research, and it turns out you can get snacks endorsed by such legendary artists as Snoop Dogg, Notorious BIG, and my favorite, Moneybagg Mo's dill pickle jalapeno chips.

Jody warned you should check the ingredients before imbibing. "I was driving and eating the Snoop Dogg snack and suddenly I got very sleepy," she said. Ah. Snoop can do that to you.

Rap Snacks is a genius idea. Classic Rock Snacks, Country Snacks and Yacht Rock Snacks were never invented and never made a dent in the $40 million snack industry. I'm pretty much a loyal snack guy (I can demolish a can of Pringles in five minutes) but I'd try Rap Snacks if given the chance or driving to Kansas City and stopping for gas. 

Rap on, snack lovers.

Mayoral race shapes up

 YESTERDAY THE MAYOR of Quincy announced he was running for a second term in next year's elections. This was after he publicly stated last summer he'd make an announcement within a month. One wonders why he waited more than half a year to say he wants to be mayor again.

He faces a stiff challenge from former Quincy City Alderman Dan Brink, who formerly announced last October he was running as a Republican. The current major is also a Republican. Brink wasted no no time responding to the current mayor's announcement, and you can read it here. 

Brink has a lot of ammo. He can go after the current mayor for the bungling of the city insurance, the no-confidence vote from city council and the absolute botching of the police chief search and recommendation. That one worked out, despite our mayor's best intentions. 

The current mayor has ticked off much of the moderate Republican core in Quincy. But the current mayor has many staid and conservative Quincy Republicans on his side. More importantly, he has their cash. So it won't be easy to knock him off.

Former city treasurer Linda Moore is a possibility when it comes to the Democrats. She'd make a great candidate. But she's hamstrung by having the D designation. It's all about who will actually show up at the polls, and right now that's a tall task for the Ds.

I'll wait to see how it all plays out before making up my mind. It's a long road to next February's primary elections, and to the April 2025 election. I encourage all of us who are registered to pay close attention and make an informed decision.

 

 

Feeling 59

 AGE IS RELATIVE, right? People are surprised when they find out how old I really am. They think I'm much younger. Maybe it's the the fact I never grew up. Truth is, I'm chasing 60 and will get there before the end of 2024.

I visited the one and only Anne Mays last Friday on her 90th birthday. She is still spunky and sharp as ever. She said, "I feel like I'm only 70." That's the legendary Grannie Annie for you.

I see a lot of younger Blessing employees every day. There are a couple at 48th Street who are still in their teens. I joke about my socks being older than them. Of course, the reason it's humorous is because it's true. 

One of them said, "You are the same age as my dad. So I'm going to call you dad!" So she does. Every day. I'm not sure how I feel about that, but I suppose it's a compliment of sorts.

Another one who just turned 19 says her grandmother knows me. "And my grandma is a little crazy," she said. "I think you could actually be my grandfather. Wouldn't that be cool?"

We are most assuredly not family. But if she wants to think that way, if she calls me grandpa every time she sees me, should I feel old about it?

All I know is that the three-hour gigs get a little harder to do, bedtime comes earlier and the ability to do nothing for long stretches of time gets easier and easier. I'm taking vitamins and trying to be careful about what I eat and I'm walking a lot doing the job, which helps me feel better. 

So bring it on, 60. I'm not afraid. Age is just a number. And my socks look great for being that old.

Open Mic tonight!

 SUPER EXCITED TO host the Open Mic Night at the Calftown Coffeehouse tonight. We will start around 7:15ish. I am subbing for the legendary Steve Rees, who has built the twice-monthly event into quite the happening scene.

Calftown Coffeehouse is at 832 S. 8th, right across from State Street Bank at 8th and State. Open Mic Night is all inclusive and features music, storytelling, poetry reading and anything to do with expressing yourself in the arts. My friend and musical partner Travis Hoffman will be helping me with the host duties and playing as usual.

I love it because most of the performers are getting way out of their comfort zones. Many are terrified of performing in front of people, so it's therapy and courage all in one. You do the best you can do and the crowd is very receptive, attentive and respectful.

Bill Burns and Margarita Oguilve are amazing hosts and have graciously give us their space and time for the event. It doesn't hurt to have awesome coffee, specialty drinks and food available. I just set up for tonight and Bill made me a spinach, feta cheese and mushroom quesadilla to die for. Yum!

I used to fill in for Steve when he did Open Mic Night at One Restaurant a few years ago. Many talented performers cut their teeth on that big stage and venue. We always had a blast. I have been to a few Open Mic Nights at Calftown Coffeehouse and you won't find a more interesting and engaging experience, if you come with an open mind and supportive vibe.

See you tonight!

If it's broke, don't fix it

I LIVE BY the saying, "If it's not broken, don't fix it." I also live by the saying, "If it's broke, don't worry about it. Unless it's the TV remote."

We were driving back from the dog cemetery run this morning. Sheryl turned on the windshield wiper and pushed the lever for the spray. It didn't work. It hasn't worked in a long time. "I can take a look at that if you want," she said. "Or you could look at it."

I could look at it? Oh, the enormity of the futility of that statement. Wait. Enormous Futility would be a great name for a band! Never mind.

I don't drive that much, to work a mile a way, to gigs on the weekends, to the grocery store. I can see fine out of my windshield. Does it need to be cleaned? Yes. Am I getting antsy thinking about my dirty windshield? No. Once in a while I look around the inside of my Jeep and see how filthy it is (from often wet and smelly dogs, mostly) and I get motivated to vacuum it out. But that's usually before I know I have to pick up band members on the way to the gig.

There are a lot of things that are broken that I need to fix. The ceiling above the shower. The back door to the garage. My back after I picked up a box at work the other day. Use your legs, dumbass. But they don't always work, either.

If I break a guitar string, it gets fixed right away. If the lawnmower goes kaput, I think about hiring goats to see how long I can go without getting another lawnmower. 

The late Frank Haxel used to talk about a long list of things he had to do and fix at Vancil Performing Arts. He'd complain about it and use it as an excuse to not do something else. Then he'd say, "Hey. It's Friday!" And happy hour(s) would commence on the Second String Music sidewalk.

It's the way we are wired. It drives normal and respectable people crazy. To them I say, too bad.

I gotta go vacuum my Jeep. Or at least think about it. When it's clean, I'll look at the windshield wiper thingy. Promise.

Do something by doing nothing

 I DID SOMETHING yesterday and helped by doing nothing. It happens all the time. I'm good at doing nothing!

I made a delivery to one of Blessing's buildings and came out to find an elderly woman trying to get out of her wheelchair and into her car. Her husband was helping. But she was obviously struggling, trying to stand up and then sitting back down.

I asked if I could help. The man had a very kind and patient look on his face. He said, "Thanks! I think we have it." The woman tried to stand up again and didn't make it.

She said, "I just had a stroke. If you could do me a favor, just stand there and do nothing. I'm going to pretend you are a wall. It will help me stand up."

I always try to help. Yesterday I directed a man to an office at 48th, and another couple to an office at 927 Broadway, which is a labyrinth and not easy to navigate. Going to a medical facility for the first time is intimidating enough, despite the signs. I still get lost in the main hospital and get turned around at 927. The ability of a Hart to get lost is well documented

So I just stood there in the parking lot. The husband counted to three, and the woman slowly rose from her chair. They stood there for a second and the man said, "We have it from here. You were a big help. Thank you!"

When you work in healthcare and you see people struggling with physical issues, it's hard. I just deliver stuff and pick it up. We have so many great people who do the actual helping. 

Less is more, and more is most.

 

Stray cat strut, every day

 ABOUT A YEAR ago an alley cat came into the yard and asked to be fed. Yup. Asked. Very politely.

"Well, I'm living at the other end of the alley and crawl under the fence and sometimes the human puts food out. But sometimes she doesn't. Got any milk?" the cat said.

I'm a sucker for a furry face. So I fed her. And she came back the next day. And the next.

Then she disappeared for about a week. She showed up looking tired and hardly able to move.

"Never mind," she said, when asked where she'd been. "It's a cat and momma thing."

Uh oh. Momma thing?

Then, at the end of April, I got up on a Saturday morning, went to the porch, and there were four little alley cats staring at me. "Well, you fed momma. You can feed us too," they said.

I had two choices. I could feed the kittens, and I knew they'd stick around. Or I could ignore their cute little faces and pathetic mews and growling tummies.

They are my strays now. "Haha!" Momma Cat said. "You really are a sucker!"

The first thing I did was call Sally Westerhoff and The Quincy Cat Coalition. They have a free spade program through the Quincy Humane Society - you just have to take them back. It was easier said than done, but eventually all of the cats except one (he took off and eventually found a home a few blocks away) were taken care of.

That included Momma Cat. Boy was she pissed after I took her and the kittens to the Humane Society. When she got back, she promptly marched her brood to the house next door and moved in under a shed.

"She will be mad for about three days," Sheryl said. "Don't worry about it. She'll come back."

Three days later, Momma Cat and three little cats came back. Eventually Momma Cat left and once in a while comes around, but she raised her kittens and she's done. 

Bigsby, Taylor and Martin still live in my backyard. There's a comfortable bed and blanket in the garage, and they sleep in a big furry pile during the cold winter nights. Bigsby is skittish, Taylor looks like her momma and likes a good scratch while sitting in your lap, and Martin is the Alpha cat - he bosses the other cats around, and doesn't mind a good scritch either.

Yesterday they made themselves at home on the patio chairs and porch, enjoying the warmer weather and making me feel guilty about not getting enough cat treats.

They stalk squirrels, catch snakes and birds, and drag worms onto the porch every morning. They are carnivores. Momma Cat decimated the baby bunny population last spring and taught them well.

I think about finding them another home - maybe a farm somewhere, since they are such good mousers. And it would be nice to get my garage back.

And it ain't cheap to keep them fed, but you know what? They are are happy. They can't make more cats. They have the run of the yard and the alley. They are just ... cats.

"Stuck with us!" they say. And I'm OK with it.

 

Medical terms and band names

 IF YOU ARE going to work in healthcare, you better have a sense of humor. I love my job because 99 percent of the time, the people are great. But here are places where I go on a daily basis where it's evident the people who work there don't have a sense of humor. I pity them. It's an awful thing. 

Much of the humor needs to remain in the lab, the office, the loading dock. If you don't work in healthcare, you wouldn't get it. It's not necessarily inappropriate, but it can be dark and funny at the same time. Enough said.

I pick up items at various labs and transport them to the main lab at Blessing Hospital. Let's start by saying I am not making fun of any medical procedure or body part - I take very seriously getting things to the lab and it can literally be a life-changing item I'm transporting. I busted my ribs and had my finger drained from a cat bite last year, so I know how painful and embarrassing medical stuff can be. 

I don't look at anything I take. HIPPA is a thing, you know. But I have to sign off on it. I don't see the names. I do see what I'm taking.

It's just too easy to take stuff, and then make band names out of stuff.

Examples? Butt Cyst, Gallbladder With Contents, Inked Tonsils, Fourth Toe, Bladder Wash, Dumb Lab Courier Forgets and Cat Bites Hurt would all be GREAT band names. 

Sometimes it's not the stuff. It's the situation. A friend at Blessing's 48th Street location had to work late this week. She asked if I could bring her french fries near the end of her shift, when I'm there to pick up the last labs of the day.

She ate them on her drive home. "They were gone by the time I got home," she said.

We both agreed Devouring Fries is another amazing band name.

Sometimes it's medical but not job related. Like, "Ripped Nail" because of my bad guitar strumming technique. Another favorite is "Chipping For Bogey," which happened a lot during my recent trip to Arizona and is also the name of my autobiography.

There must be something wrong with me because every day I hear something or take something to the lab and I think, "What a great name for a band!" Maybe I should pay more attention to the road or not forget the dry ice on my way to Hannibal.

Hang on. Dry Ice To Hannibal. GUH. 

It never ends.