Good morning Boys and Girls.

Received an email from Mike Potter, a friend in Baltimore who owns and runs Orion Sound Studios, inviting me to a birthday party this weekend. I've written a little about his place over the years when my son's band, or my brother's, has played there. Mike brings in some of the finest Prog musicians from around the world for intimate performances in the little theater that's the centerpiece of his complex. How he does it I have no idea, because the ticket prices for these shows have always been ridiculously low, even for internationally known acts. He's a former Michigander who proudly displays a Detroit Red Wings banner there in the theater, incongruous amid the memorabilia, photos, and posters depicting many of the musicians who've graced his stage over the years.

Happy Birthday Mike. Wish I could come.

When I leave for Des Moines, there are a few little rituals I go through to make sure things are up to snuff when I get back. I do a cursory straightening up so Good ex-roomie Dot, or AuntConi aren't too disgusted when they come out to feed Roadie while I'm gone, and I make sure the bird feeder on the deck rail is filled so Roadie has some kitty TV to watch for a few days. She likes bird shows. Then I always pull off the burner grates and trays from the stove and the shelf racks and broiler pan from my convection oven and put them into the dishwasher, along with the carafe and permanent filter from the coffee maker. About the last thing I do before walking out the door, even after giving Roadie a treat and a hug, is to turn on the dishwasher.

After having arrived home after midnight the night before last, yesterday morning, I pulled everything out of the dishwasher so I could make my morning coffee and a little breakfast. Alas, the coffee took over a half-hour to brew. Grrr.

Since I have a well here, there are minerals in my water and, as such, I get a calcium build-up in my coffee maker that must be cleaned out every couple of months using a mixture of C.L.R. and water. The water is great tasting and doesn't have any harmful chemicals in it, but last night I put the coffeemaker through its paces, running the chemical mixture through twice, and then ran the four cycles of plain water through the machine required to get rid of the poison.

Even though I follow the directions - I always do - I still worry when I drink that first cup of coffee after these cleanings. Just an hour or two ago, I sipped carefully, trying to discern any trace of a chemical taste. No. Didn't seem to. Then I started thinking, so what if there is a little C.L.R. in my Java? Wouldn't it clear out any plaque in my arteries? That might be a good thing!

What?

AuntConi and SweetLady have both been long annoyed I won't hook up the perfectly good water softener in the basement, but, as it happens, I have a perfectly good reason for my refusal. I hate the feeling of soft water on my skin after a shower. I never feel like the soap has rinsed off sufficiently, and besides, frankly, I don't want to be bothered. The only downside to hard water to me is that I have to clean my coffeemaker every couple of months. Yes, I know, supposedly clothes get cleaner in softened water, but I'm perfectly happy with the way my clothes come out of the washer. And besides, AuntConi gave me a spare coffeemaker (one she stole from a former employer - or that's my story, anyway) that sits in the cupboard for the time when I simply can't be bothered to clean mine out any more. As for SweetLady, I told her in no uncertain terms that she only gets to dictate this house's use of a water softener if and when she ever happens to live here. As a visitor, she has my permission to put up with my preferences.

Have I ever mentioned her vicious uppercut?


Be good to everyone.