House Concerts #5, #6, #7 and #8 and the Snow-cone police

We pulled into Sin City at about eight and went to our hotel. When we went into the room, the temperature was about 95 degrees. After the manager moved us to one where you could actually breathe, we headed out to see what my dad called the “unnaturally bloated spectacle” of Las Vegas. I felt like I was being hit with a sledgehammer of light and noise. There was a dinner place we ate at, and then wandered around looking at the glitz and the slot machines and the people. I had a strong yearning for a quiet stream in the middle of nowhere.

Thursday morning Laguna Beach was the next stop, and we reached our fans Sydney and John Mack’s house in the afternoon. Sydney was so happy to see us, she almost cried. I have never met someone who loved my music so much. I did my backwards hand's crossed trick on their piano.
For the next 24 hours, we were spoiled with pool soaks and Chinese food and trips to the beach. Dad and I went bodysurfing in 7 foot waves. Here's a picture of me and Sydney and one of Sydney and John.




Friday there was a concert hosted by Phil and Donna at the Church of Religious Science in Fullerton, near L.A. There were a lot of people there and everyone loved it. Sadie gave a brilliant performance and we got everyone to sing “Spread Joy”. Saturday our family was once again ridiculously spoiled with ice cream and TV and large cushy beanbag chairs. Here are Phil and Donna and their wonderful family along with their 2 huge Burmese Mountain dogs Teek and Zoe.


The next day we did a house concert number 6 at Deborah’s house in Upland. The people there enjoyed it and we swam in her wonderful little pool.


That night we stayed at our friends Devon and Jorj’s house. Here's a picture of them: I met their son Jamison, who’s a fantastic composer.
On the way there, we got lost and ended up going 40 miles out of our way. We saw a forest fire right on the side of the road.







The next day we had to get up really early and drive alllll theeee waaaayyy to my dad’s friend Mark Stoltenberg’s house about an hour and a half outside of Yosemite, which we drove through. It was incredible especially for my mom and I who had never been there. I loved seeing the rock faces of El Capitan and Half Dome. After about nine hours of being in the car we finally got to Mark’s house in Twain Harte, California.

They took us to a beautiful little lake where we went swimming on Tuesday. I went to the snack shop and got a snow-cone, and took it to a deck where they had a little sign that said “no sno-cones allowed, but I couldn’t see any possible reason for them not being allowed except that maybe if a sno-cone dripped on the deck it would explode, but I didn’t think that was likely, so I sat down anyway. After about five minutes, this old guy came over, and without saying anything, pointed to my sno-cone like it was a weapon of mass destruction and looked at me and my sno-cone like I was something nasty on his shoe. I would have liked to engage in a philosophical discussion on where and why you can and can’t eat sno-cones, but I wanted to eat the dang sno-cone, so I moved into the sno-cone approved area and ate it. (it was very good.)

There was a concert that night at the local bed and breakfast on (thank god, FINALLY) a really really good Steinway piano. It went fine, and they had particularly good little cheese-and-cracker snacks there.



On Wednesday we drove to Rancho Cordova, California, where we had a gig our friend Bill set up at the Straw Hat Pizza Parlor from 6:30 to 9. Here's a picture of Dad and Bill and one of me and dad doing a duet.
My dad threw what I would call a mini temper tantrum when one person in the audience kept telling him he was playing too loud. He stood up and polled the audience on who thought he was too loud and noone else raised their hand, but he made a big show of turning the piano so it would be softer and saying, “ALL RIGHT NOW, I’m going to do a QUIET LITTLE BOOGIE piece called BEAT ME DADDY EIGHT TO THE BAR. And I’m going to be REALLY REALLY SOFT.” Everyone else protested though, and he went back to playing normally (this is why my dad has stopped doing restaurant gigs.) And now, it’s Thursday, and we’re in the car on our way to Ashland, Oregon, where my dad and I are planning a giant rock-shop shopping spree at a couple of places there. My mom finally discovered the source of the awful smell in our car: a two-week old banana. Everyone’s a wee bit fussy.