Diary 1|15|2017: Sing Misty For Me.

Written by Tom Fitzmorris January 18, 2017 13:01 in

DiningDiarySquare-150x150 Saturday, January 14, 2017. I Get Breakfast, Then I Get Misty.
A busy Saturday, one whose eating plans are sketchy. I figure it would be a good idea to have breakfast. After that, I check to see if the women who cut my hair are in their salon a few blocks from Mattina Bella. I am performing a solo tonight for a room full of people, and I haven't had a trim since the New England cruise in September. Nobody is at The Lion's Den, so I try A Cut Above. A few years ago I tried to get a haircut there, but was told that they were booked into the following week. This time, they take me at eleven, giving me just enough time to make my supermarket and cleaners stops, then enough after the tonsure until I go on the air at noon. I think it helped that this time everybody in the salon recognized me. All I wanted was a good haircut--one that the Marys will approve of. And I got one from a very nice lady. The radio show runs until three. I take a shower and a long nap, then make my way over to the private club where a dozen singers connected with NPAS create a cabaret evening for the diners in the clubhouse. It's a good program. We began with a pianist who performed a brilliant version of "Rhapsody In Blue." It made me wonder if I have a flight to catch. A young voice student performed "Summertime" with power and artistry. The lady who did a duet with me on "Tumbling Tumbleweeds" last year whips out her guitar and does some folk. A good assortment of styles all evening. My song is "Misty." I always liked Johnny Mathis. Nobody comes close to matching his style, and I find my voice adapts well to what he does with breath control. I am happy with the sounds I'm making. It's a good thing that I perform this kind of thing mainly for my own amusement. I must have misunderstood the dining plan for the singers, but when we finished out our program the buffet was shut down and the singers were gone. I had been lingering with the populations of three of the tables, talking more about food than singing.[divider type=""]
Sunday, January 15, 2017. Dr. King Gives Me A Day Off.
The radio station grants a holiday tomorrow for the MLK celebration. I use this free time today and tomorrow to catch up with the pile of paperwork on my desk. Mary Ann spent last night at Mary Leigh's apartment, a setup that I have no doubt will often be used this way. I don't mind, particularly, except for knowing that when the girls get together for a lot of free conversation, they are not exactly figuring out new ways to show how much they love me. Indeed, MA's big plan for the week involves her driving to Washington D.C. to take part in the presidential inauguration, there to rejoice in glee. I don't even want to picture that in my mind. I know I will never find out how much hotel rooms in D.C. will sell for. And am I glad. [caption id="attachment_38499" align="alignnone" width="480"]Crabby's onion rings. Crabby's onion rings.[/caption] The Marys and I convoke for lunch at Crabby's Shack in Madisonville. We begin with a big pile of thin-slice fried onion rings. That is deemed insufficient fried stuff, so we get an order of fried artichoke hearts. I add to my enjoyment a half-dozen very cold and briny raw oysters. [caption id="attachment_43561" align="alignnone" width="480"]Grilled trout at Crabby's Shack. Blackened drum with the cream sauce at Crabby's Shack.[/caption] Crabby's seems to be a low-end seafood house with a lot of fried items, poor boys, red beans, and the like. But a taste of their entree specials reveals more talent than is found even ion some gourmet bistros. I have a generous fillet of puppy drumfish--blackened, then meeting a ramekin of a rich, thick white sauce that I have enjoyed on a number of other meals here. It's especially fine with soft-shell crabs. None of those at this time of yeat, but the sauce is no less fine with the drumfish. [caption id="attachment_42555" align="alignnone" width="480"]Raw oysters. Raw oysters.[/caption] MA has a fried oyster poor boy, but without the bread. That's a standard order for her, lately. ML eats a hamburger, because somebody must. For dessert, not much. I think Crabby's intentionally has an unappealing dessert list, perhaps to keep the tables turning. The place has become very busy of late. The Marys had to wait about twenty minutes for a table. Mary Leigh updates me on how well she likes her new job of building film and television sets. A lot of what she does requires a certain brute force--a phrase not often applied to my svelte, tender daughter. But she gets a kick out of the project. Our ways part after that. It's a long way from Madisonville to the Cool Water Ranch, but not as far as it is to the Marys' apartment. But now I must clean up the Ranch House.
Crabby's Seafood Shack. Madisonville: 305 Covington. 985-845-2348.