So much work to catch up on, so little desire to do it.

J’ever have a Sunday like that? I put off some tasks so the Thriller and I could watch Argo last night (I’d seen it, but he hadn’t), and now I’m behind the 8-ball with school stuff. I’m trying to care more about it, but failing.

I’m ready to put this septimanis horribilis behind me now. It was definitely a horrible week, beginning last Sunday night, when we first noticed Rousseau refusing food and water, through his listlessness and increasing weakness on Monday, followed by the vet visit on Tuesday, through his death on Wednesday and the following days of grief. And while we’re still struggling without him in our lives, we’re trying to move forward. It’s been a week of tears, but also a week of great comfort from our family and friends. That means a lot.

But the coming rains today kind of match my mood. So I may get rhythm section parts written today, and I may not. All depends on how I feel, and on what’s playing at the matinee.

I vote for being a layabout; a sluggard. What say you?

No, I’m not referring to Michael Jordan’s jersey or the 23 enigma. There’s just something I like about the number 23 today. Can you guess what it is? I’m sure you can.

I find I’m making this statement more often these days: I’ve never been much of a ‘day counter,’ but this year I am. There are 23 days of school left, and yes, I am counting. I am counting for many reasons. Maybe I’m just getting older and smelling the finish line, you know? I never used to think about it, really.

Well I’m thinking about it now.

I love my students and the work they do. Everyone knows that, I hope. I have a great relationship with many of my colleagues, some of whom I consider to be dear friends. I view everyone else as just people doing their jobs. And everyone looks forward to quittin’ time, right? So there you go. I’m ready to fire up that pickup truck and let the horses run.

Twenty-three days. Then the Thriller and I get our summer on, along with many of you. Speaking of summer — what are your plans? Where are you going and what are you doing? When will you do it, and with whom? What will you eat and is there any for me? I will live vicariously through your chocolate experiences. I covet your thoughts, so feel free to share so I can envy you. That, and I’m just nosy.

Fink, all up in yer business

What a great weekend. We actually relaxed some on Friday night, then Saturday was Js all day and overnight, with a great visit from Mavis. Yesterday, it was lunch with Lars and school work, but squeezed in there nicely was a session of prep for my gig with the amazingly talented BoomR in Dallas this June.

Cigar Lounge at Chamberlain’s

We will record on Friday night and Saturday, and then on Saturday night I will join him for a few tunes on his regular engagement at Chamberlain’s Steak & Chop House, back in the Cigar Lounge. It’ll be my first club gig in over 20 years. To say I’m most jacked up about this would be glossing it over.

And of course, it’s not just the making music part; it’s seeing BoomR and BluVox for the first time since summer 2010 that will be the most fun. I might even fall into their awesome swimming pool, if there’s time.

All of this makes me forget that it is now Monday and 33 degrees outside (but with a partly cloudy high of 64 today, it’s much more April-like around these parts). I forgot about it until right now, that is. Time to get back to reality. Blah.

Patience, Finkly. Patience.

When will this end?

I’m not a superstitious person, nor do I subscribe to the notion that God is meting out his “How d’ya like THEM apples?” justice on the country for its disobedience. But I will admit I am confused, heartbroken and angry about the tragic events of the last week, and it makes me wonder when the next shoe will fall.

Sending poison envelopes to the White House, blowing up a crowded public place, then lingering to watch while people are maimed; the news about the horrifying explosion in Texas, the senseless shooting at MIT…

Sometimes, I don’t want to live on this planet anymore.

Hug your family extra tight today.

Last night I went to an area fundraiser to hear my son play with a big band. Fun! I was a proud mamafink. That boy can play him some drums. I enjoyed seeing people I hadn’t seen in a long time. Ran into some old friends, and had a nice time with my daughter-in-law.

I also got to hang with Hannah’s parents, and the Js were there, too, tearin’ up the dance floor. 

Somewhere, I have a photo of Seamus at Christmastime, when he was five years old. I need to find it. We’d bought him a small drum kit, and as I recall, his other gifts lay abandoned for most of the morning. From that day forward, it was on. Twenty-some years later, he’s still going strong. Lars picked up guitar in late elementary school, and I still love to hear him play. On my bucket list is a gig with both of them. Actually, we’ve all played together before, but only for my school productions. I’m looking forward to jamming with them (playing *and* singing, as they both have pipes *and* great ears) sometime before I croak.

Because, you know, doing it after I croak would be difficult.

Anyway, my point — and I do have one — is that I got to be a peacock last night for all to see, and I’m looking forward to other times, with both of my sons. Heck, I’ll come to your next gig and be proud of you. Invite me!

I hope a relaxing Sunday awaits you. As David Hartman used to say: Make it a good day.

FO