My band, Doughty Hill, is performing tonight at the East Sangerville Grange, opening at 6:30 for the Old Blues Kats. And tomorrow morning Sid Stutzman and I will be the brunch entertainment at Stutzmans' Cafe in Sangerville, 10 to 1. Come keep us company if you can.
In other news, Hamlet, Horatio, and Guildenstern's relay team came in first. Talk about an unexpected plot twist.
Also in other news: this week's New Yorker is singing the praises of Anthony Trollope, Coleman Hawkins is playing on the stereo, overwrought Paul is overwroughtly taking his SAT tests, and I planted lettuce, arugula, spinach, and French breakfast radishes yesterday. Today's jobs: planting beets and cilantro, cleaning up log-splitter rubble, and feeding ice cream to the overwrought SAT-er.
French breakfast radish is one of my favorite plant names.
Speaking of terminology: those Baltimore cops were charged with depraved-heart murder. The law professor interviewed on NPR said that his students are shocked and excited by that kind of archaic language. Of course they are. I can't stop thinking about it either.