Mim's the Word

In the morning we receive an email from David Bash generally thanking all the performers and asking if anyone accidentally took a black jacket from backstage at the venue—Steve Barton is missing his groovy 60’s coat. Andrew fesses up—he thought is was Gary’s jacket so he scooped it up & tossed it in the truck. Oops. We get in touch with Steve and make the joke he’s probably pretty sick of: “your jacket’s in the Valley, but you’re not”. Ouch. He’s totally gracious and agrees to meet us at our venue before the gig to retrieve his cool garment.

We get to tonight’s venue (TRIP) at 5:30-ish and Steve shows up promptly. We hand over his jacket; and it turns out that both his cell-phone and a copy of his new, unreleased album are in the pockets DAMN. We are glad all these items are safe back with the owner. To make up for our bad behavior we give him some True Margrit CDs and he gives US a copy of his new CD to check out! WOW—what a guy!

We get our gear onstage while Shane, TRIP's amazing sandwich artisan, makes us all the MOST mysterioously scrumptious sandwiches. We eat these with relish (actually, with pickles).

Soon enough, though, we greet friends, and then it’s time to play. Andrew has a whole table of high-school friends there cheering us on; Gary has a quite a crew tonight, as well. Super-sweet. We blaze through a few tunes and then my sister Mim Eichler Rivas (yes, she’s that famous as hell author), and her husband Victor Rivers (also famous as hell) arrive. YAY! We greet them (well, to be more accurate, we all intone: “MIM” in an oblique reference to Galaxyquest), and then carry on with the rock.

After the gig we mill about on the sidewalk and eventually formulate a plan to go to Jerry’s Deli. There, we chat and eat and have a nice little after-party. Matzo-ball soup, chopped liver, chopped salad, burgers, and cheesecake are all consumed by one or more of our group. And then somehow it’s after midnight. Our friends/family are all looking weary. We are a bit sleepy too, but not very--we are getting tough. After that epic journey to Texas, this trip (though not a complete piece of cake) is certainly way mellower.

We zip back to Grenada Hills in half the time it took to get to Santa Monica due to the late hour and its attendant lack of traffic. And now the air has cooled down, the palm trees are silhouetted in the streetlights, their leaves gently sussurating in the night breeze. And tomorrow: yea though we travel through the Valley of Central California, I will fear no odor.