Now showing: The Marathon Man

Just got back from the dentist, where I got a cleaning, and by "cleaning," I mean "brutal scraping." Y'know, I think having a nice man shove a stainless steel pick repeatedly under my gumline was a good thing: I had forgotten what my own blood tasted like, and I may need that knowledge for future reference. But Dr. Kisiel is a great guy, very personable, very good at his job. (Plus, he treats David Hyde Pierce when he's in town.)

On a happier note, Richard Thompson's label has just released a few sample tracks from his upcoming new album here, and glory be, one of them is "Gethsemane," the song he opened his November Albany show with, the one that I was more than willing to give up my spleen to own. I am an extraordinarily happy man. [EDIT: I finally downloaded the other offered track, "One Door Opens." Oh. My. GOD. If this album is delayed, I'm taking hostages.]

Kristi's in Fishkill today for a seminar. Weep for her.

Not good. Not good at all.

I knew my grandma was going to be having heart surgery this Wednesday, to fix a few problems. This isn't anything new; she has had heart problems for decades now (she got her first pacemaker when pacemakers were like solid-lead doorknobs). Well, I got an e-mail from my mom, informing me that Wednesday's surgery will in fact be a major heart overhaul: a valve repair, a valve replacement, a hole to be patched... Ai yi yi. I don't have a good feeling about this, and I don't like the fact that my feelings aren't good. I'm usually the pie-in-the-sky blissful-denial type until bad things actually happen; I'm just hoping that the psychic streak on my mom's side really did skip me. If I could prevail upon you all to join me in sending some happy thoughts in the direction of the south suburbs of Chicago, you will have my undying gratitude. Thanks. I'll keep you posted.