Good word

"No body can play and sing country music with long hair. Waylen Jenkins has got long hair and you cant hear all of his words sometimes and his band is beatnicks and rock and roll."

--Lester "Roadhog" Moran

Home at last

I can't wait to tell you all about the trip to Tennessee, especially the motherfucking backstage passes to the motherfucking "Grand Ole Opry," but for tonight all I want to say is: I'm glad to be home. I'm glad that tonight I will sleep in my bed with my four pillows, and tomorrow morning I will brew coffee so strong it will hurt me to drink it.

I also can't wait to tell you about the exciting flat tire on Illinois' exciting Northwest Tollway, but that, too, is a topic for a later blog. (Don't worry: we're fine, and it was as painless a flat tire as a northern Illinois flat tire in late December could be.)

Let's not go shopping

After doing Christmas with the family all day yesterday, I was excited to show Ereck around Nashville a bit today. But once we had hit a few highlights--this is my prep school; this is the large university next to my prep school--I began to remember one of the realities of Music City on Sunday afternoon, a reality brought into sharp relief on Boxing Day: there's not much to do. So I showed him where I went to grammar school.

Deep freeze

The subzero temperatures finally prompted us to put plastic over our windows. We did the same last year--having paid a staggering amount to heat this drafty old place the winter before.

We also resolved to plug up some cracks in our ancient windows. Lacking any fancier material, we used newsprint, which I guess is appropriate for the apartment of a newspaper journalist. Ironically, although our recycling bin contains zillions of copies of Isthmus, the paper for which I usually write, we mostly used Rick's Cafe for insulating purposes. No staples to remove.

When we visited San Francisco over Thanksgiving, our window plastic came up in several conversations. Our friends especially wanted to know whether we use a hair dryer to make the stuff taut. I admit there's something fascinating about the hair dryer process, and the instructions on the box even suggest it. However, we've gotten fine results just stretching the plastic with our hands.

Sweet music

I had a frisson of recognition when I read this on Terry Teachout's blog:

(You know your emotions are up in the air when every piece of music you hear, good and bad alike, makes you cry.)

Damn if the same thing hasn't been happening to me! I've lately found myself choked up by, among other things: "Somewhere in Texas, Pt. 1," a 53-second song on the Willie Nelson album Tougher Than Leather; "Remmem Valsen," a slow, sweet instrumental waltz by the Norskedalen Trio, a Wisconsin polka band featured on Smithsonian Folkways' Deep Polka compilation; "Ethiopian Jokes," a sloppy but earnest cri de coeur by the 1980s Knoxville band Smokin' Dave and the Primo Dopes; and everything the Madonnas sang at their show last Saturday.

As Teachout notes, this is a tough season for some of us, but I actually feel better about the holidays this year than I have in a long, long time. I've already been to two smashing parties, heard and sung some fabulous holiday music and gone shopping. So far, so good.

P.S. Also Loretta Lynn, "Van Lear Rose."

Joy to the world

Tonight at Hilldale Mall there was a Salvation Army kettle staffed by a troop of girl scouts, average age about eight. They caroled as they rang the bell but had no music, so although the melodies were just fine the words were a little--sometimes a lot--off. But they were most enthusiastic. Cute.

Question

Which is a bigger disaster, Vietnam or Iraq?

The question assumes they are both disasters, obviously. Some may disagree.