just watched a great display – it seemed really well-coodinated, if that makes any sense – of fireworks, which were kicking off this weekend's Festa Italiana
. I'll be missing out on the chance of wandering down there for some great food since I'm heading south to my sister's for the weekend, where Joe and Daniele will be coming up with baby Nathaniel, who is now about 9 months old. That trumps everything for everyone, since they've the farthest away of the family, and so we are all gathering together for some fun. In the meantime, I tried to get out news to friends about Over The Rhine's
upcoming October gig in Milwaukee, and to rally a company to attend. Yesterday I got Linford's letter announcing their Live From Nowhere, Vol. 4
and I have already gotten my advanced downloaded tracks from that to whet my appetite.
Watching the fireworks was slightly more complicated than usual because I woke up with the most horrendous crick in my neck today. I still haven't managed to work it out entirely. Perhaps it's because I did laundry last night and, as I was putting sheets on the bed, finally remembered to flip and rotate my mattress for about the first time in a year. Or perhaps because I had the most epic series of dreams – I think they formed a coherent-for-dreams triology – that kept me locked in a dream for what seemed to be the entire night. It was vastly entertaining, although most of it is gone now as I declined to try to take notes in the morning. I don't know: maybe I was so locked into the dreams that I forgot to turn or somesuch. Anyway, I'm wishing that I still lived downstairs from Caitlin the Massage Therapist....