Disaster at the dance

Remember the mourning doves yesterday? Last night they led to a drama.

It was so sweet because three doves -- I want to say three, though it might have been four -- were dancing on the top of the closed grill on the back porch. I mean they were actually dancing. They were changing partners and stepping this way and that and they would pause and kind of kiss each other. It was like watching a courtly dance like a minuet.



Or a Laendler.



And I was enchanted, watching these birds. I was standing at the screen door gazing at them.

I was so enchanted that I totally forgot that at my feet, Jeoffry was watching too. But with antipathy. Like the Baroness when she walks out on the porch and sees the Captain and Maria dancing.

Anyway.

Suddenly there was this huge, jarring CRASH!

The cat had flung himself onto the screen and clung there with all four paws. Like a squirrel!

He had been watching and watching and his outrage was growing and all of a sudden he just could not stand it any more. He didn't get out, but the noise was this tremendous shock. The birds screeched and scattered. I have to say I have not seen them since.

I had to help Jeoffry down off the screen and then he went stalking away, his life's equilibrium restored, his dominion over the house assured.

I hope the doves come back!

But I will not be surprised if they don't.

Tap dancing in the confessional

I went to Ash Wednesday Mass at St. Michael's which as we have discussed before is the confessional capital of Buffalo.

Whenever you walk in they are holding confessions!

With which, I took advantage. It had been, ahem, a while since my last confession.

I got to the church about 10 minutes early and as I may have mentioned about St. Michael's, the atmosphere in there is kind of unusual. People get to Mass early and they stay late and if you walk in when no mass is going on, there will still be people in there, praying or meditating or whatever. It is always quiet, unlike a lot of other churches.

Another thing I do not think I have mentioned, they have a cool bell thing going on at St. Michael's. There is this kind of shimmer of bells that tells you when Mass is going to start, in about five minutes or so.

I heard that shimmer of bells and that was when it struck me that I should go to confession. And I went into the booth and knelt down. A kind gentleman in a nearby pew was nice enough to take a picture of me, visible up above at the top of this post. But it was not as easy as it looks.

The trouble was, I had not thought about it a great deal. This is how big a loser I can be, I did not have my confession planned out. I hastily got about three sins in my head and then in I went.

And I lost track of my sins in the middle of my confession!

I mentioned one or two things and then I blanked. What else had I done wrong? There had to be something.

Probably I should have said, "I'm sorry, Father, I forgot what else I was going to say." The priest was extremely nice and would have been fine with that. But instead I just kept talking. Tap dancing, in radio lingo. I have heard that when you are doing a radio show and no one is calling in, you have to tap dance, i.e., talk about nothing, just so the airwaves do not go dead.

Tap, tap, tap. "So anyway I was thinking I needed to work on that, and I have to prioritize my life better, and ..."

Telephone call for Mr. Astaire! Paging Mr. Astaire! Honest, I was like Fred Astaire. Or the Nicholas Brothers.

It was not as bad as the time I forgot my Act of Contrition but it was stressful all the same. I just kept tapping and tapping.

Finally I thought of something else I could say and I talked about that. Whew! What it was, I can't remember. Nor does it matter, now, because it has been forgiven.

These are the wages of getting up at 5:30 a.m. to deal with matters Pennario-related.

Your sins escape you!

I cover the waterfront

Joe. (honest)

Yikes! I am posting so late today! Thanks, everyone, for not giving up on me. I have a confession to make. I went to the beach.

I have been working and working and working on my book and it has occurred to me recently that I am missing the seasons. I was in California over Christmas and it was 75 degrees and sunny. That is not good for a person. Next, when I came home, I worked on the book all through spring. The tulips came up and I did not even notice.

So today I was sitting there working on my chapter about Leonard Pennario in Tanglewood and my friend Gary called me and said if I wanted to go to Sunset Bay he would pick me up in 15 minutes. I had all this work to do. I was going to finish the Tanglewood chapter and start a new chapter and use the Internet to track down two more musicians I wanted to find to talk to for the book. Then I was going to go run some errands, mostly to buy oatmeal for Howard and spray for the apple tree.

"I'm sorry," I told Gary. "I am going to stay home to work."

Yeah, right! What I really told him was, "OK, I'll be ready in 15 minutes."

That was something like one o'clock. Now it is after nine. The whole day, shot, because I was lying around on the beach drinking gin and tonics and watching my fellow beachgoers having chicken fights. And glorying in my tan. I have the best tan, from going so much to San Diego.

While I was at the beach I got into an argument with Gary's and my friend Joe over Barack Obama. I know you're not supposed to talk politics but sometimes I can't help it.

Joe loves Obama. "I've read all his books," he said.

"Barack Obama has written books?" I said.

"Yes, he has," Joe said.

"About what?" I said.

And Joe gave me a title, something about... about... I forget what. If the book had been about a concert pianist, I would remember it. But it wasn't.

I told Joe that the campaign would be really interesting because I am sure, as Howard is too, that either some weird thing is going to come out about Barack Obama, or else Michelle Obama is going to say something or do something to blow it. That woman is clearly an accident waiting to happen. As was Teresa Heinz Kerry. Remember her? She was always playing with her hair and looking and acting crazy. I sense Michelle Obama is the same way.

Joe and I were able to go back and forth about this for about a minute and a half before we decided we had better buy each other another drink and drop the subject. I am used to that. That is life as a conservative in Buffalo.

But really, I know Michelle Obama is going to blow it.

I wish I could buy her a gin and tonic, just to get her going.