The picnic table is covered in frost. Keith Richards is in repose with the Christmas chilis and I need to rest my hands.
It all had my carpal tunnel in a hissy fit by evening time.
Frank and I watched Mad Dogs and Englishmen, a fab early 70s, good-vibes -the -road documentary. The magnificent Leon Russell leading the band and choir as they make Joe Cocker’s music soar.
Then a little Castle with the fabulous Nathan Fillion.
I swear we could be related. He looks like a relative. Any Mahoney in your extended clan, Nathan?
This morning I’m back to calling on the hands to perform small motor skills.
After my sewing today I am taking a vacation.
No scrubbing. No sewing. I’ll finish the Keith Richards biography and laze about.
Here is a picture of 70s Keith lounging behind out Christmas chilis.
Bad but delicious. They look like big cookies because I just flop them on the cooking sheet. Drop scones.
I came across a big beautiful book on Laurel Canyon in the 70s yesterday as I browsed at Barnes and Noble. Man, have I got a theme going on.
It triggered teenage memories of wanderlust. How I wanted to get up the road to that place and mingle with the musicians. I still want to write some fiction set in that dream enhanced environment.
I think those images would help. Santa Claus? Bring me Laurel Canyon?