I haven’t written a blog in a long time. I’m not particularly worried that words go not anymore together I know how anymore. But I’ll give it a go, as we used to say in my days in the RAF.

We just finished two intense weeks in the studio on our second record (CD, album). We started with Kenny coming to Nashville, so we could record the music with wonderful Nashville players. That was generous of Kenny… he certainly could have argued that he wanted to use guys he knew on the west coast, but,  as we all know, Georgia and I rightfully deserve to always get our way. So he came east. It was really a buttload of work. I hope I am not going over your heads with technical terms like that. A “buttload” is slightly more than six songs but less than thirteen (it is a union term). The tracks came out great… but then again… it WAS us.

Then we jetted off to sunny Southern CA! Shopping, dining, sunning on the beach, all things we certainly had every intention to do while we were there… but unfortunately we had to drive four hours a day back and forth to the mysterious land of Ojai, where we sang and sang until we each coughed up a little lung. While we were there, we had all our west coast Kickstarter people come to the studio and sing on one of our songs. This was a big crowd, and Georgia and I had a ball answering, “what’s it like to be in a band with Kenny,” over and over again. Absolutely the best!

The last vocal “in the can”…. time to go home, right? Oh you naive naïf. (I have no idea what a naïf is but the alliteration was too good to pass up). Georgia and I (middle and stage left) flew to Texas to spend a weekend writing songs with returning soldiers who have experienced trauma, and need to express it. Apparently, writing songs about pickup trucks and drinking beer fills the bill, so I was invited. Seriously, what those men and women went through is hard to believe, and if hearing a little bit of it sung back to them with a snappy backbeat makes them feel a little better, then I was proud to do it.

I slept very little on a  small cot…so I am pretty sure I experienced EXACTLY what THEY go through in the service. (Georgia is worried I am not showing enough “heart” and people won’t know how touched I was spending time doing a small service to these wonderful brave men and woman who gave so much to us to keep us safe and free. She’s afraid you will all think I was not moved by the stories I heard and wrote about this weekend. She’s adorable.)

We drove to Austin Sunday night. I had one day to eat some great food, say hi to a few friends and then go home; leaving Georgia behind to hang with her family for the week. To quote that great band “The Bay City Rollers”… “How’s THAT Working For You?”

It’s now Tuesday, and I am still in Austin. Nashville is covered in ice and desperation, and every morning I wake with excitement and expectation (and a little gas… there is a great deal of Mexican food in Austin) only to have my flight cancelled yet again due to a massive ice storm in Nashville. I had SO MUCH TO DO!!!! I have a heap of writing appointments starting Thursday, and I really needed Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday to plow thru it so I can go into my writing appointments with a clear slate and a cloudy conscience.

Now I will be flying in, and landing just in time to go straight from the airport to my writing appointment. Do I have frozen pipes at home? Is my dog out in the yard somewhere under a pile of snow? (I am PRETTY sure I brought him in the house before I left……..).

EDITOR’S NOTE: This is a joke; one of Gary’s wacky attempts at raising eyebrows and drawing a chuckle or two from the folks out there. It is obviously a joke because only a heartless asshole would leave his dog out in the yard while he left town for three weeks. A monster. A black-souled sucubus from Hell itself.  Gary, that better have been a f**king joke or I swear I will never work with you again.

There are worse places to be waiting out a storm. Austin’s a nice town. One of these days the ice will melt. The snow will stop. The planes will fly into Nashville and my ass will be in my own BarcaLounger.

Mongo but a pawn in the game of life. Gary but a pawn in the game of weather.