And, when I awoke, I was alone, this bird had flown...

So before I left San Francisco the first time, for Michigan (say summer of 1993), I was staying with Paul Romano and Nick Jorgensen up at the top of 22nd and Grandview for a few days (weeks?). One evening Paul and I sat down to watch some late night TV, either Carson (is that possible?) or Leno, or MAYBE Letterman. Anyway, one of the guests that night was Pat Benatar, who was promoting her recent Blues (!) album...

Then, lo and behold, for reasons that I don't recall, and unprompted by the host, Pat Benatar starts talking about Thomas Pynchon. Now for Paul, after Dostoevsky, Mr. Pynchon might be his favorite writer, or at least VERY near the top of the list. I don't know if moments like these are deemed "epiphanical" or simply "jaw-dropping", but Paul stared at the screen in shock and awe (tm) and then turned to me and said, in essence, "If you had told me that Pat Benatar would be on this show promoting a BLUES album AND THEN would start talking about Thomas Pynchon, well..."; and in my mind's eye (or verisimilitude?) he simply shook his head at the wonder and splendor of our modern world. Or, to put it another way, Paul did NOT see that coming...

I have now left San Francisco a second time, June 2011, for the state of Washington. Danielle and I finally made it to Green Lake, Seattle as of 11/1. Our local tavern is a country western bar called The Little Red Hen (link attached) and, to be perfectly honest, the LiReHe (as Bid Daddy might call it) is one of the main reasons we moved to Green Lake - lovely people, both customers and staff; good to really good music most nights; free dance lessons; tasty and inexpensive food (check out the extensive menu); a two minute walk. On Thanksgiving night (doors at 7 and, yes, we HAVE booked a seat at the bar, thanks for asking) we will be seeing Knut Bell and the Blue Collars, local favorites who get PRIME evenings at the Little Red Hen- Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's Eve, etc.

A couple of nights ago we were sitting at the bar and met a bartender, Lila (about my age, give or take), for the first time. In the course of conversation, she told us she'd grown up in Green Lake - elementary school, high school (a cheerleader), family still lives close by in the neighborhood. Then, and I'm not exactly sure why, Lila started singing a childhood bedtime song to us ... in Norwegian. She went through it once (very lilting, I must say), then a second time, providing us line by line translations of the content as she went (vocabulary word of the day: "rumpa" is "booty"). She then indicated she could teach us Norwegian if we were interested (!). To which I said, "You mean to this day you speak Norwegian fluently and could, for example, hold an extended conversation with a Norwegian speaker if they came through the front door?" To which she said, "Of course"; then added, "in fact I will this weekend when KNUT BELL COMES TO PLAY." (Emphasis mine.) "He's from Norway."

And, I mean, of course he is, right? "Knut" (Ka-Noot). At any rate, our sudden immersion into All Things Norwegian (ATN - childhood BEDTIME songs?) at our local country western bar? No, I certainly did NOT see that coming.

IBL:mm