Snickerdoodle, Labradoodle, Gottadoodle

By Robbie on January 7, 2009

Happy New Year, everyone. The family and I spent the post-Christmas interlude in a part of the U.S. that was new to us, northeastern Iowa. The rolling hills in and around Decorah belie the Iowa stereotype, and the weather is even more extreme than Chicago's. It felt about as bitterly cold as Maine out there. My brother, my lovely sister-in-law-to-be, my kids and I did very little for three days, but we did find time to sled the gentle slopes of Luther College, watch one-half of "Some Like It Hot" in shocked silence, read D.H. Lawrence's "The Rocking Horse Winner" aloud (more shocked silence), and prepare an upright piano, using staplers, clips, and random metal objects. [Is that prepare or repair?] We failed to stage an intervention to address my brother's mental illness, which manifests itself in the kitchen, where he keeps a shelf of two dozen unrelated spices and condiments over the stove and feverishly assaults each pot with arbitrary combinations. Before leaving we ate fried potatoes covered in salt, paprika, honey, red wine vinegar, black pepper, powdered onion, Tabasco, and, I believe, attar of rose.

For those who think the world doesn't have enough interview shows hosted by handsome guys with ready wits, the one I did last month with Mark Bazer is now posted at Huffington Post.** I come off a little weird, but I also think this is an accurate portrayal of my Martian body language and horrible posture.

The band and I are playing this Friday night, January 9, at a place called Uptown Lounge in LaSalle, IL. Doesn't look like an entertainment hotspot at first glance, and yet reliable people say this club is really something special. Come on out, order a meal, and rock hillbilly-style with us.

Thanks to all who attended our end-of-year gala at Fitzgeralds. The turnout was excellent and I appreciate all the nice responses in person and via e-mail. To those who stormed out or demanded a refund: read the ads next time. You can see my typical show one hundred other times during the year; it's only on New Year's weekend where we really stretch out into fey showtunes and terpsichore. And if you can't take some razzing of either McCain or Obama, go register a complaint with Brent Bozell or Norman Lear.

Does anyone in the Chicago area own one of the breeds of dog known for hypoallergenicity? We want to buy a bichon frise or something similar, a dog our very sensitive 11-year-old, who gets red eyes and full-body freakout after an hour with an average housepet, can handle. Between his sensitivity and the very steep price of the dog, we can't afford to take a gamble, and so I would like to expose him for a period of time indoors. Drop me a line if you would allow the two of us to visit you at home some Saturday afternoon -- I'll bring lunch (and some music, if you would like).

XO, RF

** We had a little trouble getting the link via Google to work, so if you have trouble just go to Mark Bazar's column to get the full listing of interviews.