Shhhhhh..... my sweetheart is sleeping.
I have crept upstairs to do dorky internet things while he snoozes through a horrific Tim Allen Christmas movie. Surely you know the one. Or the two. God, could there be three? Please no.
I can't help but reflect on the irony of my situation. I complain each year about getting bad Christmas songs stuck in my head, but right now, it could not be more fitting. Why? The weather outside IS frightful. So frightful. It might as well be Halloween.
It goes like this.
BH and I were walking back from CHUO FM at the University of Ottawa. I had just done an interview there to promote my gig at Zaphod's this Monday (PS, I have a gig on Monday. Zaphod's. 8pm. Free. See you there?) and my guest spot at the Barrymore's Christmas bash next Friday (PPS, gig there too. Please come). My producer, Dean, was also at the station, and we chatted a while with Anne-Marie, the lovely and charming host of Hop the Fence. I even got to play a couple of tunes on the banjo, and my goodness, I was nervous. I don't often get nervous for gigs, but I think my lack of expertise on my sweet new instrument is messing with my head. I can't just bluff my mistakes any more. I think I actually might have to start practising.
But I digress. The interview and songs were both great, and it was nice to promote the shows. We even got to talk a while about the Food Bank, and about Dean's wicked studio. The new CHUO digs are very cool, and I'm embarrassed to admit that I didn't even realize they had moved until yesterday! Oh well, nice studio and same sort of board I used to use at CKCU FM. Very home-y. I miss my old station more and more.
After the show was done, we packed up the banjo and wandered outside. Where it was above zero degrees. Where it was POURING. Can I say, for the record, I do NOT like to take instruments into extreme temperatures, especially a thunderstorm in December. It seems I did not have much of a choice though, and we ran most of the way home, aside from a quick stop in Chapters to steal a large plastic bag. Now the banjo is airing out, my wool coat is dripping dry, and my BH is fast asleep on the tiny love seat.
Quite an evening, overall.
Now I have the unpleasant task of waking the poor boy up so that we can get on with the evening. It's a crucial preparation time for us. Tomorrow is Pyjama Day, and DAMN we have a lot of lists to make.
GAH, I type too soon! He has stumbled into the bedroom mumbling something about coats. This is either adorable or delusional. Or both.