I'm writing from the Nashville airport. In two hours I'm flying home, leaving the van behind me at the garage in Lebanon for a replacement of a timing belt, a water pump (that they didn't discover had gone bad until this morning, so the part will have to be ordered) and potentially a new motor. The nice folks at the garage had never heard of thesamba.com as a parts source for VW stuff, so I told him about the $800 motor I found there, and how that beats the living hell out of $3000. I believe he'd be okay with me ordering that and having it sent to them (with its new timing belt and water pump), if we get to that point. Right now I'm trying not to think about the worst-case until I have to tomorrow.
I missed an appointment with my therapist in Raleigh. Slowly trying to read his suggested book, Feeling Good.
Smart Wife booked me a flight (yet another reason why she's smart) and promised to pick me up at seven when I get in. I finally broke down in tears on the phone to her when it all seemed completely out of hand, but recovered when she offered to pick up the kids and drive to get me in Tennessee.
My dear sweet friends Mike Mayeux and Mike Costanzo got me to the airport. Mayeux, engineer/producer who I've worked with since the dB's recorded in New Orleans, picked me up at the hotel, took me to the garage to rescue some of my belongings from the van/bedroom/dressingroom/paperweight and then took me to Nashville for my flight. We got to visit a little, which was great since he was in New Orleans when I first came through Nashville last week. We bought our house in Arabi from Mike and his family, and he was, in my estimation, the finest recordist in the Crescent City; he co-produced Vermilion with the Continental Drifters. Finding work in Nashville has not been an easy task for him as it is a somewhat closed community, but Mike has such good ears that I'm not worried too much about his future.
The final insult was the T.S.A. taking my blackberry jam from the Loveless Cafe away. It was a gift for my family, especially for my five year old who loves blackberry jam. I cannot begin to tell you the loathing I have for that agency, but I know, somewhere in my heart, that we are all safer in the skies not having a jar of homemade jam flying with me. "The T.S.A./took my jelly away" to paraphrase a Ramones' tune.
Oh yeah, and Antoinette K-Doe passed away this morning, all on a Mardi Gras Day. She will be sorely missed, as will her contribution as an ardent supporter of the New Orleans music scene. Who's gonna trot the Ernie K-Doe mannequin around now? Very sad.
I'm so ready to go home. What a trip. I'm fine, my life is fine, this is just a series of small setbacks that can easily be dealt with in the bigger scheme of things; they're irritating, expensive and inconvenient, but not insurmountable.
Thanks for riding with me, and I hope you dug the posts.