Tuesday, October 20, 2009

Blog post with teeth

So I got my teefies cleaned today. My hygienist, Terri, told me they are great, barely scraped me with her poky metal wand of unbearable screech-making and sent me on my way. AFTER the dentist told me I need a crown to replace a big old filling. I am putting it off till May. Then I will have to make the AWFUL choice about whether I want to get the sweet, sweet embrace of Morpheus' gas OR watch a movie during the 1.5 hours of "shaving down" my tooth.

I want every distraction I can get, frankly.

So in May I'll have to come up with the perfect movie for getting a crown to. It will need to be involving (obvs) without being too scary (duh) or too emotionally fraught/talky. I am up for suggestions.

In the meantime, I have posted some preliminary France pics from the honeymoon on my Flickr page with commentary.

I like rose, especially in Montmartre

I learned to like pink wine in France, BTW.

I also learned that the French like it when buskers play music like I play in the banjo band:

Shine!

(You can't see all the people clapping from this pic, but believe me, there was a crowd!)

I also learned about 3/4 through the trip that Ray understands and speaks French a lot better than he was letting on. When I asked him why he'd been letting me take the lead, he explained that he thought I was "cute" and liked the way I gesticulated with my hands while talking.

Another cute thing about Ray: At the Louvre, when we saw the Venus De Milo, he told me he thought her body looked exactly like mine. He appended, "not like skinny, but strong." He gets a lot of brownie points for those observations. What woman wouldn't want to be compared to Venus???

Yeah, this marriage just may last out the year. ;)

Saturday, August 01, 2009

Newlywed bliss

"Hey baby ...

Ray at sunset in Seaside

You having fun yet? We've been married less than a week and so far we have had an exciting visit from our families ...

Rays, seniors

A night's stay at a Pacific Beach motel, where we ate yummy food and partook of the hot tub...

Ocean Crest

... and you finally got the sleep that would take that haunted look (above) out of your eyes.

"We frolicked in the cold ocean (well, I did, as you can see in this picture):

Cold!

... saw clam shows that blew your mind ...

Clam shows

and even took time to pet the wildlife (in this case, anemones)

Petting the anemones

and do a little rockhounding for providential and precipitous rocks

Rock heart

But this is our first weekend as a married couple, and we can't waste it with frivolities anymore.

Honeymoon's over

Time to seal the asphalt! The weather is perfect and it really takes two people to do a good job.

Working it in

You really have to work the stuff in with the broom, babe. Oh, what is it? I dunno. It says a blend of water, silica sand and asphalt. I'm sure it's totally safe.

Could you mix this bucket up for me?

Toil and Trouble

Love that get-up. If only you could do this in rollerskates."

"Now that we're done with that, let's head out to the hinterlands for U-Pick blueberries and follow up on that tip your boss gave you.

Picking Berries

Keep pickin', babe. What, we have nine pounds of berries? Right on."

"Hopefully the rest of our married life will be as fruitful as this weekend."

-- Ray (as imagined by his wife)

Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Happiest Day Of My Life.

Seriously. I thought I was too jaded and ironic for this sort of thing. About a week before the wedding I read through the vows. They didn't move me. I was sure I was too cold, too detached, or something.

Little did I know the weekend would have me all crazy before it was over.

(Side note: I didn't take a lot of pics, and haven't heard yet from Sara. I will post pics when I have some good ones. Promise.)

The drama started Wednesday, when mom, dad and Doug came up. I got them at the airport and took them to Indochine, which was delicious (I didn't get anything, just picked off their plates). Thursday we hit Westport for crab. Ray took the day off. I heard him socializing downstairs while I was Facebooking upstairs. It was cute, since he's so reserved and my family is so outgoing. We played the banjo and clarinet for Doug and Dad. Although Doug is Joe Cool, he actually smiled while we were getting down on tunes like, "Sleepy Time Gal" and "Five Foot Two."

Friday the drama had a bit or foreboding culmination when we were getting ready to leave and Ray took my banjo out to the car. It made it through three rooms and a flight of stairs before falling out on the pavement and breaking at the neck. Ray showed me and I cried. Oh my Lord how I cried. This banjo survived the Depression, people. I taught myself to play on it. There is a lot of sentimental value there. When my car was stolen I didn't shed a tear for it, it was strictly transportation. But this was different, even though my parents kept telling me it could be replaced.

I knew Ray felt terrible, but I couldn't stop crying. I called Andy, who sold me the banjo and restores them, but the line was busy. We headed out to his house, and I left the banjo with his wife, who assured me the banjo would be fine and so would I. Apparently it is now getting back to normal. I kept crying almost until we left Central Park, then I perked up. Janet really soothed me. She also gave me a loaner banjo, so we could play for the family.

And that was sort of the end of any trauma. I was worried this was foreshadowing Something Bad happening. It didn't help when Ray sliced two fingers open on different occasions the next day, one of those times being by breaking Jonathan's shower head (Ray put in a replacement. We are conscientious house guests). But that was the end of the bad juju.

We made it to the chapel for the rehearsal almost on time, but Dave, our minister, wasn't there. He got there in plenty of time to walk us through our rehearsal, though. The chapel was lovely. But I worried it would get too hot in the impending 90-degree weather that was forecast. (It didn't)

So my whole family practically showed up. We got pizza and alcohol Friday night and the first arrivals started hanging out. Ray learned some of the depth of the nerdiness of his family when Meegan criticized Charles' World of Warcraft mount as "too slow." Later, he would tell me, "It's amazing how your cousins are all familiar with D&D." Yeah, babe, you will fit right in, I told him.

Saturday I took it fairly easy. Beth took me for a mani-pedi, my first ever, and it was not half bad. "I think you like!" said the pedicurist who attended to my feet. I had another Asian lady working my hands. It felt a little awkward, but I may have to do it again in the next five years or so. We also got my dress steamed and picked up Beth's, which had been altered. It was the night of the rehearsal dinner, which (and this will be a theme here) did not go off quite as planned because my million relatives got to put in mixed drink orders instead of having to go to the bar and pay for them themselves, thanks to a kind of mess up on the part of the restaurant, which was otherwise delightful. And as I learned over Friday and Saturday nights, my peeps can drink. Like a lot.

Luckily, everyone seemed to get along fine. The Wilmoths and Whites didn't all know each other, and everyone seemed to make time to talk to Ray Elgin. Bonnie commented that I had a happy, social family. Yessiree, Bob. That I do. Although my mom and aunts had concerns about my 87-y-o Pa coming, he seemed thoroughly delighted to be there, surrounded by his family. He talked everyone's ear off and had three beers, which he doesn't do that much anymore. "I love Pa because he's so sentimental," Andrew (now Andy) said. Yes, he is.

Kris showed a slideshow of pics of me and Ray from birth to about now. It was a hit. She found a lot of pics of me with guns, though. I've only been shooting the once. I guess it was very well documented.

The afterparty was mostly my cousins talking about the dorkiest things they do. Bryan watches "So You Think You Can Dance." Andy said something in Math language that I don't follow. Stephen's girlfriend Nicky, who lives in a notoriously hipster section of NYC, kept trying to prove her dorkiness but we weren't having any of it. She posts on message boards about music groups, she said. Erin, Bryan's gf, is a tax nerd, which comes of her job at a bigtime CPA firm, even though she is not an accountant.

Then Ray and I did the dorkiest thing we do — duets of old-timey music. We played "The Codfish Ball" and "I'm Looking Over a Four Leafed Clover," for starters. I hadn't tuned the banjo, so it sounded pretty bad, and Ray had to transpose, so he had issues too. But in all, we shocked people with our competence and extreme dorkitude.

So with all this partying it might be becoming apparent that I did not get a lot of sleep? Yeah, like four hours max. I was one strung-out little puppy. It was hard to eat a regular sized meal.

So Sunday everything gets insane. Kris comes over to make the CAKE. Actually, just to frost it. She brought over the flowers from her garden to decorate it at the Varsity, which I feel I must at this point distinguish from the catering company The Vault, which was the company catering our wedding. Because we are finding it quite hard to say nice things about this catering company at this point. There were some issues with setting up the room. And we had some conflict over drinks. Some disingenuous stuff was pulled on us, partly due to sheer disorganization but also what could only have been flat-out untruths on their part. We are dealing with it. But the catering was the major portion of our budget, so that's a disheartening thing. Luckily we're never marrying again, and we're able to separate our dealings with the caterer from the intense joy we felt from our ceremony and party.

Beth comes over to get me into my dress. After I put on makeup, I prepare to put on this hot, heavy thing for a day forecast to be 90 degrees. Bleah. I have to wear Spanx and a bustier, both of which kind of press into me in funny ways. As she's zipping me up, I say in my best Vivien Leigh impression, "I have to have a 16 1/2 inch waist! Ashley Wilkes is going to be at Twelve Oaks today!"

Sara comes over to start taking pics, and as we're preparing to go outside to do location shots, Ray gets a call from the caterer. It was more drama, but it was handily resolved by a) my decision to throw my mom and aunt Sandy a bone and have them craft the centerpieces so they were on their way to the reception venue, b) Beth offering to stay at said venue until the caterer returned to give her back the one key. I told Ray later that if she was late we'd delay the wedding as long as it took. Beth was the trouper who helped save the day there.

We head out to the Museum of Glass and Sara managed to get nice pics even though I'm feeling ragged and Ray's a bit agitated.

Then it's off to the Murano to see where Sara's staying and get some shots in front of its cool green glass sculpture.

Then we got cokes at the Mickey D's drive through. Ray said, "Mmmm. I can see this being an anniversary tradition, going to McDonald's." Hardy Har Har. I basically associate their food with poison, so I don't think that'll happen. But the symbolism is what it is.

At the chapel, I lay down on some seats in the back and Kris takes photos. Thanks for preserving my dignity, sister in law. Eventually we go downstairs to wait because people are about to show up and we have entrances to make. The organist starts playing the piano. He plays the "Star Hustler" theme song, which makes this former Astronomy TA's heart warm. His name is Jeff Orr, and he's very good, BTW.

Then Ray gets a call on his cell from Mickey. She is shocked it is on! We all are! She said the 7th Street peeps are late! They are in traffic! So we naturally decide to delay until they get there. Plus, they are not the only Harborites who might be stuck. The last people to make it in seem to be the Jacksons. We just chill in the basement while dad goes to check who might be in the house.

So finally it is go time.

You know how I was saying I was all jaded? Well, apparently not. As the prelude is winding down I feel a crack in my dam of fortitude. As the doors to the chapel open, and "Thaxted"/"Jupiter" (from Gustav Holst's "The Planets" suite) plays, I lose it. People later told me they couldn't tell if I was laughing or crying. Mostly the latter. Out of happiness. The dam burst and I got my face red and my eyes puffy, just as Sara is taking pics of me. She said, "Liquid joy," that's what tears are. I still feel kind of weenie about it all. But damn, people, I was SO OVERCOME.

I mean, there I was, about to proclaim in front of virtually everyone I hold dear my love for my absolute and most amazing best friend. I was about to be joined in holy matrimony to the one person I care for most in this world. And how much I love him never stops astounding me, as does the fact that we went through a lot of coincidences in our lives on the path to meeting each other. What ifs? abound. But, as Ray's friend Jim said, it seems God preserved us for one another.

Seriously, you get married for the first time at 35 and up, and it isn't just another ceremony. I seriously think our ages have an impact on how you take a wedding. We had waited a long time to get to that point. We have had a lot of life experiences.

So the vows go by fairly quickly. Ray was sweating like crazy and his lower lip was trembling. He was clearly working to hold it together. We chose some fairly awesome readings, including one from one of the books of John that says, in part, "be slow to anger," which I liked because it reminded me of Ray, and also speaks of how one's "righteousness" is baloney, which reminds me of my attitude towards self-important people.

Finally, we kiss and work our way down and out, before Dave can say he would like to introduce us as husband and wife. We went to the basement again and I lose it all over again. We had a moment.

So the family took some pics afterwards. I, with my makeup totally gone below my nose and in a streak across my cheeks. Well, so what. Zach was cute, yelling, "WEDDING!" instead of cheese. It works, people!

We made our way to the reception, and we started off the buffet. We were a little surprised to discover so many people at the bar when we had so much wine for them to drink, but it had not yet been set out on the table. For some reason, habit, I guess, I got broccoli at the buffet even though it was technically my day and if all I wanted was to eat cake and prime rib that was my right.

I hardly ended up eating anyway, I was so busy talking to people.

So Dave kicked off the open mic wedding slam with Betsy and, yes, her raffle for our license witnesses. Ray's cousin Brian and 7th Street hardcore volunteer Lane won. Also, Lane is a deputy coroner, so the symbolism, I told the crowd, was appropriate. The raffle raised over $400 for the theater.

We had toasts, Hugh started, and pointed out that we both disliked a past boss as I waved my hands in the classic, "STOP!" gesture. "I'm being inappropriate," he said. "When you're 83, you get to be inappropriate!" Applause ensued. Jeff told everyone how Ray liked the WWF back in the day and about their wrestling nicknames, "True Cod," (Jeff) and "Parakeet" (Ray). Beth said she was glad I finally found someone smart, with my values, and gave me what she said, which she had written down, which was awesome. Jim said he was so glad Ray was not alone anymore and that he is a great guy, which is the gospel truth, and that he liked Def Leppard and Metallica, which surprised me. Ray later said he had them confused with Iron Maiden, which he had told me about. Weird Al, Tom T. Hall and Iron Maiden. Some taste he's got there. Doug warned Ray that I would steal his GI Joes and take away the remote while he's watching cartoons so I can watch General Hospital, but also that I will stick up for him. He made me cry. Dad told a story about how I told him I'd smoked my first cigarette (I just wanted him and mom to know that I was developmentally appropriate, which is kind of weird), then talked about my tracheotomy. I'm not sure how that fit in, but I do know it traumatized him and mom for a while. Finally, Paul got up and testified to Ray's good character, excellent taste and brilliant mind. (Later, when Jim asked if I had ever played "Facts in Five" with Ray, he was surprised to learn that I almost always win. Ray can beat me at air hockey more consistently than any board game.)

My mom and dad worked the room. I think it helped them understand Ray more, since he's so reserved, to talk to people who love him so much, to understand what I was getting into and why I was doing it so willingly. (When I told my mom I was dating Ray, she said, "What does he do?" I said, "He's a lawyer," and she replied, "Is he DIVORCED???")

Then the DJ started and we danced to U2's "One," which is a little sad but also has the social justice themes we were going for. We DO have to all carry each other, carry each other. We served the cake, none of it ended up smeared on the other's face because we are classy and besides, that was homemade stuff! No wasting it allowed! Riley Jackson, so totally cute, played photog. He asked if I had his dad's email (LOL, yes, he's my boss) and I could get some pics that way. I said I'd like the first cut, and when Riley seemed confused, told him his dad would know what I meant.

Finally the DJ cranked up the jams and my entire family came out to boogie. Enduring images include my uncle Phil getting busy, even doing the "make a splits and pull self up by collar" maneuver, Klaus just shaking it like he's braking it, mom dancing with her pink reading glasses perched on the end of her nose and (while this isn't a visual) my hair being soaked through with sweat, same with my legs under that superhot taffeta skirt. Also the family doing the Cha Cha Slide. Which is about as explicit in directions as my family needs. We are desperately honkified here. "Two hops! Left stomp! Slide to the left!" Seriously, we needed that help.

My cousin Maddie, who will be going to college after next year, told me she loved that I picked "Poker Face." You know, the one that futzes the "po" sound to be more like "fuh." I also danced with Joey, who married my cousin Melanie. The next day I saw them at the hotel and Melanie was rubbing her strangely pokey-out and taut belly while Joey asked if she felt okay. I was all, "What is this thing you're doing with the rubbing? Either you have an impacted colon or you're pregnant." She was pregnant. With TWINS!!! They didn't tell me earlier b/c it was "my day," but holy cats, I was so freaking happy for them. Also, Meegan and Nathan sold their house, which they had just put on the market days earlier. Lots of good news.

I couldn't believe how many people danced for a seriously long time. I danced with, I think, everybody. Some of them made me gasp for breath since I was squashed in my foundation garments. My legs were killing me for two days after. Not Pa, though. Even though he was afraid of falling and breaking his hip he came out to dance with me a little. "All it took was saying, 'Please,' " aunt Carol said.

I took a break to hitch up my skirt and ventilate. Sara sat down next to me. She said it was the best wedding she'd been to in a long while (her own, probably). She pointed to the dance floor, where almost everyone was slowdancing to some old song. "Look at that. That is love. You made that happen. That is really something," she said. What an encouraging thing to hear.

I did make Ray dance the last dance with me, "Over the Rainbow" by Bruddah Iz. Cute song, and I have such positive associations with Hawaii that it made me very happy, and I was already over the moon.

Anyway, we got out of there at about 10:30 or so, and we were so keyed up from adrenaline we couldn't sleep. We just kept talking about how awesome our wedding was, how lucky we both were, and how promising our future is.

We are really, really lucky people. I feel an immense sense of gratitude every day for having Ray in my life. He is the best, and I am so, so happy he feels the same way about me.

Friday, June 26, 2009

Engagement photos

Got these taken like a MONTH ago and it has taken forever for me to get them up. Sheesh.

Anyway, we met with the lovely and talented Sara Gray last month in Seaside, Ore. She is our photographer and did her darndest to get me to smile with teeth showing. We wandered around in the quite-chilly town along the boardwalk and downtown while she took pics with her assistant, her husband Eric Hensley.

Here are the results:

Engagement photo

That's the shot we used in the local papers. Love amongst the condos.

Love among the condos, with teeth

More of the same spot.

so hilarious!

Laughing! Loving! That's us! On the boardwalk!

Dune

Sand dunes.

Sara Gray is very good at making people who are pasty, pudgy and not photogenic (like me) look like acceptable members of society. See more of her work at saragrayphotography.com.

Well, we got the marriage license today, so we're on top of the game. And with one month to go, that's a good thing.

Sunday, June 21, 2009

I am officially an old fart

Sent to the NYT today when it was noticed that the acrostic is only availble online from, I presume, here on out.

Dear Editor,

I'm WAY too young to be writing a letter complaining about a redesign in the magazine, and especially in regards to a much-beloved feature moving online, but the acrostic. Seriously. This is my main motivator for buying the Sunday NYT. Everything else I can get online that I want (minus the crossword, which I like to do, but my real affection is reserved for the acrostic) on Sunday. But I spend the money (even the new extra dollar), and sometimes I have to drive way out of town to get the paper (I live in a small town). I hate what it does to my carbon footprint, but I also hate the Acrostic DTs.

Seriously. The Acrostic. I know the redesign has messed it up; I know you're straining at the news hole. I know T Magazine has had some issues and now its elements are being crunched into your newly-teensified space. I know all this. I knew I would eventually pay for the fact that Craigslist has decimated classifieds and free online content does not pay like the paper version, with its expensive display ads. I just didn't expect it would be the acrostic. I thought it would be my job as a reporter. THAT I was prepared to accept.

I suppose my only recourse is to get the games subscription and forgo the physical paper altogether. Heck, it may prevent me from feeling that little dopamine drop that comes with abstaining from reading the magazine preview articles as they become available online.

Well, I'm sure the Acrostic has become to you, poor clerk who has to sift through the letters, was to me when my old paper decided to change the TV listings from vertical to horizontal channels. Except maybe NYT readers are less likely to threaten physical violence (true story, and at least I hope they don't). I feel your pain, too.

Henry Rathvon, Emily Cox, I remain devotedly yours,

Callie White

(What I did not say is that I am sure HR and EC are real people who look like they belong in an early Agatha Christie mystery. If you know the truth about Rathvon and Cox, who I would like to think solve murder mysteries in their spare time, like a much cooler Tommy and Tuppence, don't let me know. Or do. I've already suffered so much disillusionment.)

Saturday, June 06, 2009

More Banjo Madness

Today was the big Second Annual Fretted Instrument Guild of Western Washington Four String Banjo Convention. A mouthful, no?

The GH Banjo Band rocked the house, needless to say, during the Round Robin when every band takes turns playing a song. A guy in the Orphan Banjo Band (so called because it was made up of people who were either not part of a regular band or their band was not represented in the Round Robin) turned to me and said, "You guys have got pizzazz!" Why thank you, sir!

We also have video, courtesy of Ray and a little Flip we got as part of a wedding registry that only had the Flip and a tripod on it. I am going to figure out how to use it momentarily and post video. We got Linda doing the Charleston and she is so precious! Oh, and Linda has apparently found my blog while googling her dad's name or maybe Grays Harbor Banjo Band. Hi Linda!

We had Dick Lewis with us. He performs under the monniker "Montana Red" and he is terrific. Ray said he overheard Montana Red asking Hank, the unofficial leader of the Orphan Band (aka "no-name band," but that's just all complicated) for a squirt of something from a can with a guitar on the front. Ray posited that it was for easier finger sliding on the strings. But since a little oil/anything can mess a string up I am curious about this substance.

Before we hit the convention, we went to the Olympia Farmers Market and got some Washington cherries of a variety I can't remember. Ray was impressed because they were so early, I was impressed because they were so sweet and flavorful, even though they were kind of soft. We also go a loaf of Wagner's cinnamon bread, and I don't care how much cinnamon bread you've had in your life you haven't truly had cinnamon bread until you have had the very thinly-rolled and generously-becinnamoned European style cinnamon bread Wagner's sells.

Then the convention was mostly organized by the Tacoma Banjo Club, and was held at the Little Creek Resort (it's really a casino, too, though). I noticed that the readerboard was advertising MMA fighting for tonight (6/6). Well, it was advertising, "Extreme Cage Fighting! Meets No Mercy! Carnage at the Creek! June 6 2009!" where an exclamation = screen switch. Too bad we couldn't stay.

There were us, the orphan and Tacoma bands, as well as the Seattle Banjo Club, the Kitsap Banjo Club and the 101 Band, which appeared to maybe be three people, one on banjo.

There's a lot of overlap in banjo band repetoire. I heard "Side By Side," a kind of Depression-era "we're poor but who cares if we have each other" song, and we all were expected to play "Bye Bye Blues," which I kind of vaguely remembered playing before and especially that tricky Aflat7 chord, and "God Bless America." God Bless Ernie for having the sheet music with him so I could read it!

After the Round Robin, I returned my self-busting busted sunglasses to Target (Ray had taken to calling them "Collette Reardons") and got new kicks for working out that I hope won't hurt my legs like my other sneaks did.

We had dinner at Lemongrass and it was delicious. Also we did more French CD learning. I find French a disheartening language full of words that all sound exactly alike and not nearly close to how they are written. I suppose this is how English learners must feel, only more often, so I should suck it up and continue.

Upon returning home I got a Friends of the Library newsletter and some devastating news: The Timberland Library will have to reduce the number of holds available to each person from 100 to 25, I assume in fall when the other Timberland changes as a result of the failed levy are going into effect (like charging for printing and overdue fines. Yeah, we're totally spoiled). I have a perpetual 80-odd items on hold, people! This will ruin me! This is my summer of (ahemming) or getting off the pot with some of those books! I will have to read like the wind! Why was this NOT IN THE PRESS RELEASE when I wrote about this a few weeks ago! I could have read harder and cleared some items off my plate!

In the meantime, I am freaking out. This is very new news to me. I will have to push my finishing of "The Egg and I" to the back burner, apologies to Kris.

(I recently read Big Box Reuse and Rethinking Thin (I recommend that review, for it has the same reaction I did to the book — i.e. yeah, but, Wha?) and am on P.D. James' The Private Patient. My God that woman is, in the first few chapters anyway, such an amazingly skilled and literary writer for her genre, and she keeps it up even though after 14 Dalgliesh novels alone she could rest on her laurels. Brava!)

Thursday, June 04, 2009

Notes on a nearly-feral child

The Tulip Terrorist is beginning to leave his toys on our property. He left a dumptruck up by the rear door in the little enclosed space and a scooter back by the yard. Ray said I should go all Rita DelVecchio on his tuchus: "You leave it on my lawn, this is my dumptruck now!" I also worry it heralds an escalation of his invasion of the house area and specifically he's going to mess up my herb garden. So help him I will throttle his little neck if I catch him ...

Oh who am I kidding. Ray and I totally are disempowered talking to him. We're do-gooder non-confrontational types and the kid is basically without conscience. I can try having a conversation with him, but I know he won't take it seriously.

According to a neighbor his mother was "on meth when she had him." This, combined with his mullet, will just stigmatize him for life. Comfortingly, I guess, the little terror apparently knows right from wrong but doesn't care. I say comfortingly because at least he is aware there is a difference! When I told him those flowers weren't his to pick he may not have cared what I was saying, but he understood. He is not completely feral, then.

Oh, Sara Gray posted some engagement pics on her website so check out how matronly and old I look and how youthful and photogenic Ray is.

In other news: We finally tried razor clam sausage. We were told you had to like razor clams (we do) to eat it, but it tasted a lot like regular sausage. We ate it with sauerkraut.

Big banjo band playout on Saturday — the Four String Banjo convention. It's the Round Robin. Drama will ensue, I am sure!