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We were having such a lovely day. We packed up good stuff and jumped in Mama's truck, cranked up the air and some tunes and headed north. On this trip my phone was set to "avoid highways" and, without peeking, we followed it, turn by turn, over the mountains and through the woods and on thru the desert. My GPS consistently showed us to arrive, surprisingly, within 10 minutes of the trip with all the traffic on the freeway.

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You don't plant a tree to sit in its shade.
You plant a tree for the shade you've sat in. ~ Dan Grigor

If you have been  following our story you know that we were blessed with 17 Christmas trees in pots. We have been dying to get them in the ground before we lost any and today was the day.

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Have you ever lived somewhere for 30 years? We nearly made it. Maybe a month or two. The Magic House we call it. It really was a special place. 100 yards from the west side of the lake, facing east into the sunrise. That yard was a lot of work but we enjoyed it in so many ways. Family, friends, foes, highlights lowlights - I could type for days and not get in all the good stories. Peoples' lives were literally changed here. 2020, we're all grown-ups now, seems a good time to go. 

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Hey you guys, here's a great story about how we got our Christmas tree(s) this year. Also a story of something that has been happening for years and it is such a cool thing I just have to tell you about it.

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As long as you're here... here's a song to click on. Thanks for listening.

https://soundcloud.com/dan-grigor/sblendid

OK, we have a new thing. We packed all our dishes into the big, black Anvil wardrobe-trunk slash roadcase, as one does, so they don't break. We decided to just pack ALL the dishes, take 'em to Roscoe and split them up there. We need some at the apartment and we need to get rid of a lot of them. So we have the trunk empty again, I am unpacking them into a sort of linen closet in the hall. One we've already decided won't make it through the remodel.

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We had a delightful day. We saw that it might rain and I wanted to go up and make sure we didn't have any leaks so we spent the night at our new tiny home. Also... PUDDLE STOMPING! We got there late and camped out in the empty space. The couch is there and some chairs and we took up some food and champagne. We had ordered a new firepit since we had a tree take revenge on our last one and fall on it. It arrived just in time so we had that with us and some firewood. 

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You know that stupid sliding numbers puzzle that drove you nuts until you just threw it at the wall?

That 4-by-4 grid, with 15 numbered slidey thingies, you had to random scramble the numbers, then rearrange them into order by sliding them around fruitlessly until you have it all right or until you have it all right except the 9 is where the 7 should be. That's when you throw it in a fit of adolescent rage, right?

Fun fact: the first one of these diabolical puzzles was invented by an upstate New York postmaster named Noyes Chapman, who came up with the idea during the 1870s. Friggin' postal workers amirite?! "Going postal" as a phrase was invented shortly thereafter.

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Well, I have to say, yesterday was an interesting day. We drove up the hill and checked out what may be our new place for a while. We’re calling it Roscoe. It is 20 minutes up the hill from our abandoned antique store lot which we call the Mullet. When we build there it will be business in the front, party in the back.

Roscoe checks out and we measure for the needed improvements. I’ll need to check with building and planning but I bet our plan is good and I know my building is good. We found a big property with a little house by a seasonal creek above Lake Isabella in the shadow of Split Mountain.

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I have. I was a landscaper for a while in San Diego, years ago. I loved it. Out in the sunshine, feet in the dirt, free avocados, working in back yards, often with an ocean view. It was hard work but it paid well and I had three babies.

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I talked to my middlest son on the phone after a recent gig of his. He told me a story about "one of those moments." I've tried hard to teach them to enjoy the moments.

There are those moments in my mind of him as a baby, him being born, him climbing a tree, first day of school, first guitar, first band all that stuff. Then there are the moments we share as performers. Bad gigs, good gigs it doesn't matter. We can relate. Venue owners and band mates and promotion and gigging provide us hours of conversation.

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Click here for the lyrics

What would you say to your Dad today if you could?
For thirteen years I have been asking this question on Father's Day at Fark.com. 
For thirteen years I read the threads and cried and laughed and cried again.
For thirteen years I told you this was cathartic, heartbreaking and heartwarming all at the same time.
For thirteen years I tried to come to grips with my own story and move past the pain and use Father's Day as a way to turn what was really bad into something that is really good. You be the judge.

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A happy fail. Man plans, God laughs and points. Whadayagonnado? This is the story of the 4x4x4 sessions that turned out to be a 5x1x9 event.
(There is a video at the bottom you can listen to while you wade through this if you want. It's a fun read.)

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Here's the thing about double vision: it drives you nuts. The patch helps but it just aint the same as seeing like I used to. One of the things I have learned to love is the dark. In the dark I can have both eyes open. lids relaxed and I won't get seesick. In the dark I don't have to hold one eye closed. In the dark I don't have to wear the patch and the rubberband around my head. In the dark I am as likely to bang my head on something to the right as on the left.

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Oh, my friends, this is hard to write. As blessed as we have been to be the ones that get to live here, the family has decided to sell The Magic House. We will be leaving here soon to start a new adventure. I can only begin to tell you how bittersweet it is. There are so many stories, so many lives changed, so much music, so many memories… it overwhelms me to think about it all. Trying to decide what to pick out to relive the magic with you here knowing that, perhaps, it is better that some stories go untold.

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So, this happened.

I am addicted to Tillamook Sharp Cheddar singles. We always have some. Two of those on potato bread and I'm good to go. It's a one-handed lunch. Know what I'm saying? Convenience food, comfort food, good with beer OR wine food.

Just like when I was a kid with Kraft singles, I often take one to bed. Just like when I was a kid I fold it in half, then in half again making 4 bite-sized pieces. Each one the perfect size to just overfill a round Ritz cracker or slice of pepperoni or something. Great bed food. No crumbs, no ants, you don't even need a napkin. 

One morning, not too long ago we awaken and are having coffee and I lean over to reach the cookies and Wakitu says, "What's this?" and she peels one of those perfect squares of cheddar deliciousness off my ass. 

I look her square in the eye, without blinking, and in a tone that suggests she must have been in a coma all this time and deadpan, "Bed Cheese." There is a blink of time and we both crack up for like 5 minutes, I couldn't hold a straight face. So, needless to say, henceforth and forever, our favorite single-slice cheese snack we now call "bed cheese." This is our life now. "I'm at the store. How we doin' on bed cheese?"

"We need bed cheese sammies for the road."

"WHAT!?"
"I said, DO YOU HAVE THE BED CHEESE IN THERE?"

I certainly hope that this information doesn't affect you good folks in any way, shape or form the next time you are enjoying your favorite cheesy single snack.

I don't know quite why this struck me as such an odd thing. I should have known.

A while back we found a deal on a 2005 Jaguar x-type with minimal front-end damage. We put a little money in it and took it on the "Get In the JAG Tour" playing music up the coast of California and on up through Oregon and Washington. We had a ball! The trip was a nightmare.

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My body hates me. I'm allergic to everything and, if it isn't a big enough dose, I collect it until I have enough to ruin my week with a migraine or worse. Then I got Grave's Disease and double-vision, so now I wear an eye patch full time. It sucks.

I shopped for a long time and have tried many to find a patch that is comfortable and fits my lifestyle. It's a silly thing but, to be honest, most of the ones you find are more a part of a pirate costume than anything else. Also, I have eyelashes to die for and I need a full half-inch of blink clearance. Well maybe not a full half-inch I just love the full/half phrase like "I used the full half-hour" or "I ate that whole half-a-pie in one sitting."

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30 years ago a woman planted bulbs around our house. The Magic House we call it; it has a great view and a calmness that heals you. The bulbs grew these tall pink flowers and long green leaves that overflowed out of the middle. I have no idea what they are. A lily maybe? I suppose I could look it up but it wouldn’t change the story. They lived here a while and then we moved in. In a year we will have lived here as long as she did. At some point, she still had a bunch of bulbs left and one day she dug a hole and put all she had left into it. They would start there and live there rather than die in a box. Every year or so she would dig one up and plant it somewhere and she told us we should dig 'em all up and finish planting them around the house. We replanted a few but honestly we sort of forgot that part of the story after a while. Every year the long green leaves would grow out and all of a sudden, near my birthday, they would bloom all around the house. Of course, we always got a good bunch under the eucalyptus tree from the pile of bulbs that were buried there.

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