TCA, Chapstick, Piazza Navona

Let me say that I like "not working" a whole lot better than I like "working." Let me also say that I understand one cannot exist without the other, much the way you would never notice the sunset if you were blind or never know a night sky if you lived, say, on the sun. Actually, living on the sun would be both difficult and blinding - and require serious footwear - and since neither of those comparisons due my opening statement justice, I'll just move on.

I am away from the restaurant today and once again perfectly caffeinated and sitting with the absolute best gift I've ever received (noise-cancelling headphones) strapped tight to my head in a coffee shop in a place that the noise SHOULD be canceled. Also, I'm not sure if I've heralded the praises of my newest favorite website, but I'll do that right now. www.pandora.com, home of the music genome project, deserves a Nobel Prize in the Service to Humanity category, if they have one. The way this beauty works is that you type in a song or artist and it creates an entire playlist (commercial free) of music that follows that genre down to the letter. So today, as I was driving 20 miles south to feed a fish (don't worry about it) I found a scratchy radio station playing some positively thick Led Zeppelin.

I type in Led Zeppelin. So far, I've got a little Jimi, ZZ Top, Bachman Turner Overdrive, and of course, Page and Plant. . . Pandora saves your stations so when I tire of this glorious way-back adventure and want instead the contemporaries of Chet Baker - - click click - - Miles Davis, Diana Krall, Armstrong. It's entirely too great. Put this in tune with my noise-canceling headphones and I'm like a kindergartner in Target with his very first school supply list.

Random wine fact to show that I'm learning things in my Sommelier Certification courses: Tri-chloro-anisol is the "corked" smell that a wine has when it has been ruined by a poorly manufactured cork. This chemical compound stays in the cork after being cleaned with chlorine before being pressed into a cork - - thus, the chemical leeches out while being stored.

Boring? Maybe. Awesome? To me it is.

(Pandora has just given me Alright Now - (live) by Free)

In other news, Cadillac Cicatrix, a small publication out of the greater Los Angeles area has picked up a memoir I wrote titled: Navona ~ for my father. This piece is very near and dear to my heart and I am pleased to give it voice in the public forum. Relatively new, I'm not sure how wide the circulation of Cadillac Cicatrix is, but rest assured that I will increase it one-by-one on a request-by-request basis.

Were he still with us, I'm sure my father would gloat accordingly that his talented and dashing son had published and dedicated a piece solely to him. So, if you find yourself in a situation where gloating is acceptable (or even if it isn't) feel free to gloat a little longer in honor of a man who seldomly bragged about anything unless his children (or his prowess as a young man who drank beer) were the topic of such vicarious show-talk.

Arizona has stopped melting my errant tubes of chapstick when they are left in the car. For this, I am grateful, as chapstick when melted is a substance that really doesn't like to come out of jean pockets, seat-covers, granola boxes, or books of compact discs. I have loosely decided that I will not allow Arizona to melt anymore of chapstick - by loosely, I mean that I've begun planning and saving for a summertime exodus to the climes of Alaska or perhaps southern Australia. India also comes to mind, as does the Ivory Coast. And this is in October - imagine the wild-ass itinerary possibilities I'll have come up with by mid-April when I reach into the cupholder filled with quarters to find an empty tube of chapstick and one conglomerate and unspendable chunk of change that smells a little like eucaplyptus, cherries, and SPF 15 moisturizer. . . seriously. . .