Tuesday, April 21, 2009


Honestly, I'm not really a fan of the whole Random Tuesday thing. I don't know why but the idea just grates on me. But things are just too random around here to get them all in to one post.

Friday I was leaving work early for a big, weekend-long gig up in the big city. On the way there I got a text message that the guy who was supposed to arrive with my gear that morning had his truck break down. Scratch four hours off the day and the show starts an hour and a half late. Nobody's pointing fingers but I still feel like I suck.

Right around the time of that first text message I got another one about how my two week old baby was on the way to the big hospital in the city with a fever. When they're that little it's a pretty big deal. Especially if they have MRSA, which he didn't. But he did have staph and it took a botched spinal tap, dye injections in the brain, and a number of other unpleasant experiences to figure out. The antibiotics worked. He gained weight. He learned to smile. The Missus got a much needed rest while other people took care of the rest of the Short People. I stayed at the gig.

I decided to stay at a friend's house. The kids were all right, The Missus was all right. I got next to a camp fire, some bourbon and four friends. I'm good at suspending feelings. I had a blissful two hours of feeling all right before I passed out. Didn't sleep much and got up with the sun.

The gig got worse and worse. The bands took sound checks longer than their sets. The speakers took an average of an hour longer each than they were allotted. Gear failed. Paperwork was lost. And just about the time I was cramming the third full band on stage (with all the stuff from the first two still up there) the fourth band showed up for their sound check. Yeah, fourth band that I hadn't heard about yet at that point. (Despite all being church folk it was still pretty scary to face down a band of Native Americans and have to tell them that, as Whitey, I was pretty much going to have to shaft them.)

Eventually it all ended. We packed out and went back to the same friend's house. We grilled, we drank, we watched musical theater and Motörhead on YouTube, we smoked big, stinky cigars in the yard. On the spur of the moment I adopted my friend Amanda as my pretend little sister. Eventually I drank some coffee and drove the long road home.

I fed the kids. I took the kids to church. I fed the kids. Some friends came and took the kids, and fed them. I put the kids to bed. Then... in that first moment of quiet The Missus came home. I had been thinking all weekend that at that moment I would finally stop feeling like I was going to throw up and probably cry. I didn't though. My sweet wife and sweet babe came in the front door and with a barely audible click my world was right again.

Work just sucks. The contractors are all starting to catch on to the fact that my hospital is a black hole. You can't find anything. There's no schedule. They all want new jobs too now. We laugh a lot when we talk. A little game I like to call "Laughing To Keep From Crying". Apparently it's quite common in the construction industry. I had no idea. I thought it was just my own little way to cope with my insecurities and the pressures of the job.

The gigs keep rolling in though. I just booked another one tonight. I may have a regular Friday night thing starting in the fall. Still waiting to hear about a short tour in May and a festival in June. Not enough to think about quitting the grind, but every little bit helps with morale. Even a shitty day on a gig is better than a good day at work.

Some other random stuff from the Short People.

Miss O on Sunday morning: "No we are not having candy for breakfast! We are having cereal!" Good on ya girl! Way to run the shop while Daddy's in a coma from not sleeping all weekend.

H-Bomb while changing his diaper, "Cookie Monster! Don't eat da PENIS!" Ya...

J-Man while pulling down his pants, "I got a bump on my booty... see?!" Son! What did I tell you about those hookers down at the wharf!?

I'm beat and I still have two hours of audio to cut from two weekends ago. I also miss my wife. See ya.



ChurchPunkMom said...

Hang in there, man.. taking care of and providing for a large family takes a special kind of man. ;)

Take care of yourself.

The Mister said...

Sometimes when I'm at a gig I can't decide whether God's dropping me subtle hints to get out or just telling me that lesser men would have quit a long time ago.

Irish Gumbo said...

Hey, Mister (he says, poking his nose out of the burrow):

I'll join you in the "Scraping The Bottom Of The Barrel Club". Hang in there...once I find my scythe, I'll help you cut down some weeds.

Power, bro. In Motorhead We Trust :)