My family is moving into new house this week. Renovations aren’t complete. The floors still need to be done—sanded, stained, and sealed—which means another approaching decampment and we have no plan, not even a shopping cart. We’ll camp in one room, mattresses on the floor, and need not set a morning alarm: the painters arrive at seven a.m. daily. A feral cat that used to live here keeps trying to get back inside; we had a run-in at the front door yesterday, both of us froze, then he ran. The kitchen is being dry-walled; in other words, there is no kitchen. We are in boxes and will continue to be so for three solid weeks. The Qi floating through old and new house alike is an airborne toxic event. My children will remember this as a great adventure. This is not how my wife and I think about it at all.
In need of relief, we caught Interpol last night at The Ryman—the show was incredible—then went backstage (lead guitarist Daniel Kessler is an old friend, and as talented as they come). Heard the following uttered by Interpol groupie to unnamed band member: “We met five years ago. We ate almonds together.”
I’ll be appearing at Nashville’s Downtown Library at 10 a.m. this Saturday, then running over to TPAC for a second-hour appearance on Michael Feldman’s What’d You Know? Check your local listings and give a listen if you have the time.