happy berfday, joey

shame on me, i hadn't been to the sunday jazz at the black dog in, like, fo' evah, so when joey carter's wife diana emailed to inform me that they were celebrating joey's 40th b'day there this sunday because "that's my only hope of making sure he'll be there," i made a mental note to remember the date. as it eventuated, i was just settling down with the crossword after a day spent cooking stew and hangin' out with my youngest dtr, her b-f and baby girl, and (briefly) her middle sister when i remembered joey's party (and the also-forgotten fact that i needed to go hang up flyers for this week's "i wanna be your [black] dog" thursday with stoogeaphilia), so up i jumped and off i headed for the corner of crockett and norwood.

when i asked joey whether he felt any different having hit the big four-oh, he replied, "not really," but then reconsidered and said, "well, maybe i'm thinking a _little_ bit more about what i want to do this year." his 39th having included bertha coolidge reunion shows and participation in both sam walker's thelonious monk tribute project and jhon kahsen's avant-garde improv evenings, in addition to his usual fully-booked calendar of gig-o-rama, i told joey he could do worse than to simply have another year like the one just past. when i had to tip out ('cos i knew my sweetie was home, waiting up for my return), he'd just finished a stellar run through "softly as in a morning sunrise" in the company of his regular sunday compadres paul metzger, drew phelps, and dave karnes, and oaklin bloodworth had just taken the stage to render "how high the moon" in his inimitable fashion. in other words, the jazz cat's jazz cat and former educator (academia's loss) was in his natural habitat, doing what he does best. may it always be so.

also in the house: gtrist keith wingate, whom i haven't seen on the boards in far too long. maybe see if we can do something about that.