The title refers to a pretty Fats Waller song from 1932 — the version I know is by Marty Grosz, although Hal Smith and Co. might have recorded it. But the phrase has larger implications.
I don’t ordinarily use the blog as an extra-musical diary, but here are sixteen bars of news.
My faithful readers will have noticed a cessation of blog-activity; I wrote my most recent blogpost a week ago and skidded to a halt. What could have made me give up one of my great pleasures?
How about a hospital visit that ended with me the happy owner-wearer of a defibrillator?
I could think of other gadgets that initially would have given me more pleasure but this one will keep me from fainting, falling down, and whacking my face into the sidewalk. (The sidewalk won that contest.)
I expect to be back to blogging very soon — I have video footage from a wondrous Cangelosi Cards concert as well as Hot glories from Orange Kellin’s most recent visit to The Ear Inn. So stay tuned!
And aside from the predictably drab food, I had a gratifying stay: the doctors at North Shore Hospital in Great Neck, New York, found the problem and fixed it. Everyone here deserves special prizes and treats for humor, sweetness, and compassion. Heartfelt thanks to Drs. Meir Friedman and Jeffrey N. Berger.
AND! I almost forgot . . . during the four-hour procedure that ended with the implanting of the defibrillator, the sweetly gracious nurses — Pat, Wendy, and Edna –turned the ambient music (Pandora) to Ben Webster playing YOU’RE MINE, YOU, and Coleman Hawkins doing UNDER A BLANKET OF BLUE. What more could a temporarily-incapacitated jazz blogger want than to have Doctors Webster and Hawkins in attendance? No wonder I am happily recovered . . .
More to come!