chezsterno

Sterno has left the building. But the celebration of his time with us is still to come.

Tue, 15 Aug 2006 02:44:27 GMT

Paul's family would like you to join us as we celebrate the way he would have.

It's not the first day of a New Year, but that doesn't mean we can't have the buffet lunch at the Viceroy of India (2518 West Devon Avenue, in Rogers Park) and evoke the happiness of one more endless meal with Paul. Endless stories, endless pictures, and it will still go by too fast.

Come to be with us. Be our guest. Come in a black Tee shirt. Send us a picture of Sterno (if you have a digital photo) that we can share with everyone. Bring a story (if you can stand it). Come with your good thoughts and a smile for the lunches that were.

BUT: We need to know by Monday, August 21 if you are coming so we can provide the restaurant with a headcount.
So contact us at: rsvp@sternospix.com

Sterno has left us and will grace us no longer, but in memory.

Wed, 09 Aug 2006 02:21:00 GMT

Our son, our brother, our uncle, our cousin, our nephew, our friend (and,by the way, a world class spoon hanger) has died today. Nearly one year from the date of diagnosis, Paul succumbed to the raging cancer cells within him. He left us, just as he lived among us, uniquely and on his own terms. Today, at 5 PM, refusing to adhere to the predictions of the professionals who cared for him, he simply stopped being with us.

For all of us who know you and love you, Paul, there is a hole in the fabric of our lives that will not be repaired. Paul's memory will live on in each of us, but as of today, Chez Sterno is closed.

Sometime soon, his family will convene a celebration and remembrance of Sterno, nee Paul, to bring us together, to be sad, to be happy, to share tales of canoes and rain and bands and Mardi Gras and IHOP and Klingons and bad movies with big plot holes. Stay tuned to this location to find out more.

Party Cancelled!

Thu, 20 Jul 2006 23:45:17 GMT

It's official:
I am cancelling (at least postponing) my Housewarming Party that was scheduled for this coming Sunday (23 July 2006).

Probable Postponement

Mon, 17 Jul 2006 20:50:26 GMT

Due to on going worsening illiness, etc; and pending CT results; my upcoming Housewarming Party may need to be postponed (as usual, at the last minute).

Look for updates, or phone first!

House Warming Party--about time!!

Sat, 17 Jun 2006 21:31:02 GMT

Won’t you please join us for:
Sterno’s House Warming Party
on Sunday,
the Twenty-Third of July, Two Thousand and Six,
from Noon until Sterno needs to rest,
at Sterno’s New Place!
(Unless Sterno’s Chemo schedule changes.)
Please bring a Pink Flamingo for the front lawn!
(And a chair. Don’t have many chairs, yet.)
Sterno
PO Box 6030
Evanston, Illinois 60204-6030
chezsterno at hotmail dot com
How can you refuse? I’ve got cancer!

Time to pick a date for Housewarming Party!

Sun, 28 May 2006 04:33:53 GMT

The CD shelves have been delivered. Family coming over tomorrow to help secure them to the walls.
Time to pick a date for Housewarming Party!

East wall before

East wall after

West wall before

West wall after

The new new plan

Fri, 05 May 2006 23:57:50 GMT

Just a short note ’cause the letters are swimming around on the screen from the lorazepam.

My Oncologist’s new plan is irinotecan every other week (started today). Then, after a while, more CT scans to evaluate. (Yay—no desperate, ineffective surgery . . . yet!)

I had mild nausea and dizziness, even with ondansetron tablets and dexamethasone intravenous prior to the irinotecan; so I was given lorazepam intravenous before leaving the clinic. Now the nausea is not noticeable, and the dizziness/light-headedness has been replaced by the lack of ability to concentrate/light-headedness of lorazepam.

Oh, and I had to stop at the pharmacy on the way home to put in a supply of atropine tablets in case of severe, possibly life-threatening, diaorrhea. (I already have some prochlorperazine tablets on hand if the nausea returns.)
(No going out to Beat Kitchen to see Deal’s Gone Bad/King Django/Hub City Stompers for me tonight! Not only am I too doped up to drive my manual shift/manual steering 10 year old Honda Civic Hatchback down there; but the loo is a swamp in the basement, down a long, steep, rickety flight of stairs—not a hurdle that I feel up to negotiating in a hurry in my condition.)

And the irinotecan makes my nose run.

Mixed news

Thu, 04 May 2006 15:52:43 GMT

Had a CT (chest/abdomen/pelvis) on 24 April 2006, and a Bone Scan 26 April 2006.

Discussed the results with my Oncologist 28 April 2006: The lymphadenopathy in my abdomen is better (the lymph nodes near my primary tumor are smaller); but the metastases on my liver are worse (bigger/more numerous).

My Oncologist doesn’t know what to do! So, no taxol (chemo) for me last week (in case my regimen gets changed this week), and there has been/will be much conferring to figure out the best course of action.
One possible option is RF Ablation of the mets on my liver, which had been discussed much earlier as an option—if the mets responded to chemo and shrank significantly. Now it is being discussed as a possibility to keep them from getting bigger (very sub-optimal).

Nicknames

Sat, 29 Apr 2006 20:17:23 GMT

From a review in "The Guardian" of Tim Parks' "Medici Money: Banking, Metaphysics and Art in Fifteenth-Century Florence":
Their bank, which opened in Florence in 1397, lasted less than 100 years. Its glory days were over even before Cosimo, its most capable head, died in 1464. As money ran out, Cosimo's successors, Piero the Gouty and Lorenzo the Magnificent, relied ever more on manipulating Florence's superficially republican constitution to hold on to princely influence and power. When enemies united to banish the Medici in 1494, their bank was already dead in the water, victim of mismanagement and a wider banking downturn.

Wow! Piero the Gouty and Lorenzo the Magnificent! Nobody gets nicknames like that anymore!

Tom Dundee dead

Sat, 22 Apr 2006 21:51:21 GMT

This picture is of Tom Dundee and Kat Eggleston performing at Bill's Blues, Evanston, on 09 April 2006.

Tom Dundee (born Tom Callinan), 59, died at St. Francis Hospital, Evanston, 18 April 2006. After what appeared to be successful surgery, he may have suffered complications from a stroke, said his girlfriend of eight years, Roni Perkins. He never regained consciousness after a motorcycle accident near his Rogers Park home three days earlier (15 April 2006). Hours before the accident he had been listening to live music at a North Side cafe. Mr. Dundee, an organ donor, is survived by several cousins.
(Thanks to the Chicago Sun Times and Chicago Tribune obits for info.)

A memorial tribute will be held 17:00-21:00 14 May 2006 US$20. at the Old Town School of Folk Music, 4544 N. Lincoln Ave., Chicago:
"Remembering Tom Dundee: A concert featuring Bonnie Koloc, Corky Siegel, Michael Johnson and others". Tickets will go on sale (limit 4 per person) to everyone at 09:30 01 May 2006 through the Old Town School's box office only -- in person at both locations (4544 N. Lincoln and 909 W. Armitage) or by phone 773-728-6000.

I ordered CD shelves!

Wed, 29 Mar 2006 05:48:41 GMT

Finally, finally, finally, I walked into 57th Street Bookcase & Cabinet today and put down a massive deposit on an obscene amount of CD shelving! And I promise that I will finally have a housewarming party after they arrive. (And then unpack EVERY SINGLE BOX!—even if it kills me!—and then have another party! And then scan all my photos! BTW, y’all can make a Paypal donation to the “Sterno’s 35mm Film Processing Fund” at SternosPix.com, the sooner, the better—there’s over 600 rolls rotting in my fridge.)
It wasn’t the potential buyer’s remorse that kept delaying me. Although I do agonize over every major purchase; second, third, fourth guessing myself. But not this time! I had done all my research, and made up my mind months ago. And I should have placed this order months ago. But my twisted sense of precedence is what wouldn’t let me go ahead and order.
I used to have the same problem in my apartment. I’d lived there since my divorce, but I hadn’t fully unpacked.
Why? I knew I wasn’t going anywhere. Or soon. Everyone knew I wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. And not just because I hate moving.
And now that I have moved (into my beautiful, wonderful house), I don’t expect that I will ever move again. (I will probably have at-home hospice care when the time comes.)
It’s because of what it represents (duh, well, obviously!). In my mind, unpacking leads to throwing away the boxes and arranging everything neatly on the shelves. And then tidying everything up and getting my finances together. And then getting my affairs in order.
And you know what comes next! (Whether it includes writing a note, or comes on suddenly.)
So, in my mind, any effort I made towards imposing order on my belongings was a step towards the light (ie: my own mortality). Which is ironic considering that I was suicidal then; and double ironic now that my mortality looms so large, unbidden.
It’s almost my new mantra: The more order in my house, the more time can spend on the porch drinking in my underwear and waving my shotgun at the neighbourhood kids!

Another Wasted Day

Fri, 24 Feb 2006 04:03:46 GMT

I had such plans for today!
Instead spent the whole day on the couch catching up on the (way too many) RSS feeds that I’ve subscribed to. And watching Women’s figure skating while listening to mash-ups. (Cor, I enjoy a good mash-up! Or parody! Best find of the day: A spoof of The Dresden Dolls’ “Coin Operated Boy” called “Beer Activated Girl” by MoronLife.com)

It is very disconcerting the way that random music can sync-up with random video!

Chemo tomorrow . . . yay . . .

My Big Weekend

Sat, 18 Feb 2006 08:05:17 GMT

My Big Weekend

I have a very big weekend planned; I just hope that I’m up for it—I don’t want to let people down!
Today (Friday 17 February 2006), I have a morning appointment at the clinic for chemo. My new regimen is taxol every week. My Oncologist Dr. K. says that smaller doses every week should have fewer/lesser side effects than the alternative of larger doses every three weeks. Part of the protocol for taxol is pre-medication with IVs of pepsid/dexamethasone/benedryl. The benedryl really knocks me out for a few hours. And the ethanol in the taxol preparation (taxol is suspended in a castor oil carrier with ethanol) sure doesn’t help.
I get very anxious when I feel out of control due to medications. When I had a colonoscopy last summer, I refused sedation. (For me, the discomfort of being sedated would have been worse than the discomfort of the procedure.) Afterwards, at a consultation with my primary doctor, Internist Dr. A., he pretty much read the operative report from the colonoscopy out loud. When he got to “Patient refused sedation”, he looked at me, and then at my mother (I try to have at least one parent with me, so that I don’t have to try to recite every thing for them from my own memory, and for support; and Dr. A. has become our family physician—all of us go to him as our primary—and he has long been a family friend), and said “Wow, you guys are STOIC!” Mom said “Oh, we’re not stoic, we’re in denial!” To which I added “Yeah! And it works a lot better if you don’t analyze it!”
But, so far I’ve felt pretty good after the dose of taxol, and I’m hoping that will continue!
After chemo today, I’ll have some down time, but then Ron0 should arrive at Midway around 19:00. I imagine that we’ll get dinner and call it a night.
Tomorrow is The Mystick Krewe of LAFF Mardi Gras Bash. The Krewe is Chicago’s one-and-only Mardi Gras Krewe, and this is our big event of the year (we don’t sponsor a float in the New Orleans Mardi Gras Parade, but many members go to NOLA for at least JazzFest and Mardi Gras—which is why our Bash is never actually on Mardi Gras). We are a Charitable Organization, and this year 100% of our Raffle sales will go to Hurricane Relief in NOLA.
Being a member of the Krewe, I have to show up at The Chicago Cultural Centre at 14:00 to help (in my diminished capacity) set up for the party. Ron0 will move from my couch to a hotel room (possibly the InterConti across the Street & up the stairs from the Billy Goat Tavern—“Cheeseboorgie! Cheeseboorgie! Cheeseboorgie!”); where we will be able to hang out after I finish with set up, and we get dinner, and before I have to return for final prep at 19:00. Doors at 20:00 (don’t bother coming if you don’t have a ticket—although I might be able to scrounge some for you if you call me RIGHT NOW!) Then it’s time to PARTY! With Dikki Du & The Zydeco Crew opening for Mama Digdown’s Brass band. Everybody OUT at 24:00. Take-down, load-out, clean-up. After-party at the Billy Goat with Mama DigDown (feel free to join us for the after-party). IF I’m feeling up for it. I have to be willing to cancel everything if I’m not feeling well.
And I have a ton of family and some friends coming into town for the Bash, and just to visit. And, again, I have to be willing to back out.

It’s later now, I’ve had my chemo, and recovered from the benedryl. Ron0 and I went to Mt. Everest for dinner and Jain & Dave are coming over for drinks afters. So I’ll be up later than I should.
Ron0 will be leaving Sunday, as will most of my out-of-town family. But some family will be around ’til Wednesday, so I’ll be busy visiting.

The Condition my Condition is in

Sun, 12 Feb 2006 22:07:35 GMT

I’d had several rounds of chemo (cisplatin/ebirubicin/5FU every 3 weeks), and was having good results; to the point where, after a CT scan for evaluation, my Oncologist actually used the R-word (“Remission”) as a possibility!

But a few weeks ago, I noticed that I was having some mild dysphagia (difficulty swallowing), and complained about it. My Oncologist scheduled another CT scan. In sum, the Radiologist’s report said that everything was bigger, and that there were more of them (ie: progression of the cancer)! At our next appointment, my Oncologist poo-pooed the Radiologist’s report, saying, “they always make things sound more dire than they are!”

My new chemo regimen is taxol every week. I just had my first dose this last Friday. Hoping for better results! (Not looking forward to a new set of adverse effects. Particularly, I’ll be at constant risk of decreased WBC counts. And peripheral neuropathy is no fun, either!)

And, it seems that at least part of my tiredness can be attributed to my current anemia, documented in the CBC I had last Friday, prior to commencement of my new chemo regimen. My RBC count was not so low as to require an emergency transfusion, but I’ll be having a scheduled outpatient transfusion on Tuesday. (My first transfusion was quite a symbolic barrier for me, putting me further—and even more irrevocably—on the wrong side of the stethoscope.)

More later.

Wish List

Fri, 10 Feb 2006 05:28:02 GMT

I hear that people want to buy me stuff, which amazes me! But thank you! Thank you, very much!

If you want to buy me stuff (more exciting than paying my rent), but are short on ideas, here is something that caught my eye: http://goldteethamerica.com/index.html

2004-11-22 Lost Bag

Thu, 05 Jan 2006 21:10:14 GMT

"Reward! For the return of the bag & papers taken from my car at about 420 N. Wabash on Monday night 22 November 2004.
Large (about 2' x 3') black & gray patchwork bag with drawstring top."

Monday 22 November 2004, I went to see Ministry at the Chicago House of Blues with my friends Jen X. & Bondo. At the outset I was upset, because not only do I hate HOB (a rant that I will leave to another time), but the show had originally been scheduled at the new Durty Nellies in Palatine, and not only was I looking forward to my first visit to their new location, and seeing Ministry/My Life with the Thrill Kill Kult/Handsel und Gretyl in that truly intimate venue; but it would have been much closer to Jen X. & Bondo's place in Bartlett, and I had specifically invited them to this show (at Durty Nellies) rather than the 10 October 2004 show at the Vic Theatre because I didn't want them to have to drive all the way into the city (especially on a Monday night). Bondo really loves Ska, so he and I go out to see a lot of Ska bands, and when she's available (she works the overnight shift at a home for wayward teens) Jen X. comes with us. She doesn't care for Ska, but she's a good girlfriend. In fact, she's a Heavy Metal chick, and as I don't care for most Heavy Metal, it's hard to find shows that I want to see, to invite her to. So, Ministry at Durty Nellies seemed a perfect way to thank her for all those Ska shows she's put up with. I was running a bit late, coming from work in Hyde Park, but found parking on Wabash near IBM Plaza, across the street from that fancy, upscale health club. I left my knife in the glovebox, 'cause I knew that HOB security wouldn't tolerate a knife, but I had my camera in my pocket, hoping that they wouldn't notice it, and if they did, I would just check it (for $5). They did notice my camera, and wouldn't let me check it because their store (where the Camera Check is, as opposed to the Coat Check upstairs) was closing before the show would be over (“Not very customer service oriented,” I complained), so I had to go back to my car and put it back into my big ugly bag in the “trunk” (my hatchback has a covered storage area behind the rear seats). My big ugly bag is just that—big and ugly. It was once a mailbag, but over the years nearly every original thread has been replaced by my patchwork as holes wore through it. I even cut off and replaced the drawstring top when it wore out. It’s so ugly that I’ve left it unattended on the sidewalks of NYC, and no one bothered with it. I've had it since before my ex-wife was my girlfriend. She hated it. “It's too big! I bet I would fit inside it!” she complained. Just to prove her point, she did get inside, and I carried her around the room! Eventually, I let her out. I now realize what a great mistake that was! (But I'm sure she would have eventually found a way to file for divorce from inside.) Years later, when I was visiting my friends Amanda & Dan in Bloomington, Indiana, Amanda stitched a charm on it. In related charm news, when my mother was in San Francisco a few years ago, she brought me back a charm that wards off evil. It was from the Buddhist temple there. She was a little put off that I hung it from the rearview mirror of my car, rather than wear it, but I figured that that was where I needed protection most. (Especially since I keep getting hit by drivers who are not paying attention.) The Ministry show at HOB ran very late, and there was not time for hanging-out afterwards, so I said good-bye to Jen X. and Bondo, and went back to my car. As I approached it, I could tell that something was not right. The passenger side door was slightly ajar, although not enough to cause the dome light to turn on. As I got closer, I could see through the windows that everything inside had been tossed about, including the contents of the glovebox. And the cover of the trunk was open. Feeling light-headed, I opened the trunk, and stared dumbly at the empty space where my bag had been. My whole life was in that bag: Passport, Hack License, calendar & tickets, addressbook (really my 1998 calendar, but I'd gotten lazy about copying the addresses from one year to the next), checkbooks, several rolls of exposed film (pix of Sally Timms, Johnny Dowd, Sons of the Never Wrong, and most important: Me with Eddie Izzard!!), “journal” (such as it was—it was really an over long & overdue letter to my cousin), current reading material, fuzzy warm long purple hat, candle lantern, favourite rubber duckie, etc, etc. Also missing from the trunk were two cases (that looked like miniature attaché cases) full of cassette tapes, most of them home copies; but some prerecorded, some no-longer-available band demo tapes, and a few irreplaceable “field” recordings. (Cassette tapes, mind you! Who else in the whole world is still using cassette tapes, except me? Not even Brian Wilson! And, who did the thieves think that they would be able to sell them to?) But the most devastating was the loss of my calendar and addressbook! I now have no idea where I’m supposed to be, or whom I’m supposed to be there with, or how to contact them to find out. (So, if you know me, please call or write with your contact info, and where and when I’m supposed to met with you, and for what purpose.) So, the Buddhist charm seems to have worked, at least to some extent, in as much as I was not physically injured and my car was not damaged or stolen. In the light freezing rain, I went back to the HOB and asked them to call the cops for me, because I seem to be the last person in North America without a cell phone. When the cops eventually arrived, they were an amazing pair of stereotypes: the one driving was a cigar chomping, donut eating careerist from an Eastside family of cops; his partner was a young “hero” who wasn’t interested in anything that didn’t involve running down “perps.” Officer Hero left me standing in the rain while addressing me from the warm interior of their squad car with his feet up on the dashboard. (It gave me just a little comfort that he was attempting to disguise his receding hairline with a bad “Julius Caesar” ’do; you know, the one that didn’t even look good on George Clooney when he was trying to pull it off.) He kept me standing in the rain while explaining to me in minute detail how filing a police report was completely futile, and trying to convince me that I had left the car unlocked. Even if the car had been unlocked, how did that even matter? Besides, not only can I not allow myself to think that I am in any way responsible for my own loss, but I know myself well enough to know that it is impossible for me to have left my car unlocked. I grew up in NYC, where nobody leaves anything unlocked, ever! And, while I do not actually suffer from OCD, I do trend that way in some things. (But not in others—at home, my dust bunnies have college funds.) Especially at work. One does not have to have OCD to be a good Perioperative Nurse, but it helps. Simply put, Officer Hero refused to leave my side until he had convinced me to not make him file a police report. He also did not offer me a ride back to my car—although I am very leery of getting in the backseat of a squad car anyway, as one cannot open the door from inside. Walking back to my car in the rain, I realized that my only chance of recovering my possessions was to hope that the thieves had run around a corner with my bag, emptied it, taken the few valuable items (a 35mm camera, and a recording cassette tape personal stereo; together about $150 when they were new, resale value at a bad flea market, perhaps $5), and left the rest on the ground or dumped in a trash can. I spent the rest of the night in a widening circle across both sides of the Chicago River looking in trash cans, dumpsters, construction sites, loading docks, riverside quays, the undersides of bridges, everywhere; and talking to homeless guys. The homeless guys (and they were all guys) were very sympathetic—after all, they know what it’s like to lose all your stuff. Some of them even offered to share their meager food or drink with me. It was downright touching. But none of them had seen my bag. Eventually, I reached the point where I felt that there was no way the thieves would have traveled so far on foot with my bag, or that only tweakers would have ventured further into the dangerous areas. Exhausted and soaking, I wandered back to my car. When I got home, I filed a police report over the phone. I called in sick the next couple of days, and posted reward notices in the neighbourhood. It’s been months now, and the mild bronchitis I had before that night still has not improved. Also on that night, I swore that I would punch-out anyone who told me that it was the Universe’s way of telling me something, or that it was all for the best, or that I should accept the lesson being offered, or any other such drivel. I did discover my new favourite fashion magazine when I went to the newsstand to replace the issue of “Ms” that I had been reading that was lost with my bag: “Gothic Beauty” (www.gothicbeauty.com). But that would have happened the next time I went to the newsstand, anyway. The following Thursday was Thanksgiving, and I had the traditional dead-bird meal with my parents. It was just the three of us, as my only local sibling had opted to travel to Indianapolis to celebrate with a bunch of our cousins. He brought a Thanksgiving lasagna with him (it’s a long story). My parents asked me to bring some music to their house (specifically, the bands that I’d seen lately), so I scooped up a bunch of CDs from the most recent shows I’d been to, and played DJ. They didn’t care for Laibach, Ministry, or some of the heavier stuff, but they liked The Aluminum Group and The Magnetic Fields. And they absolutely adored The Dresden Dolls! We retired to their home office and downloaded the video for “Coin-Operated Boy,” which they thought was excellent. Mom was particularly impressed with Amanda’s eyebrows. I’m not surprised that they liked The Dresden Dolls, as they like The Tigerlillies as well. While they didn’t go with me to see The Tigerlillies perform (as The Tigerlillies), we had seen them in their production of “Shockheaded Peter,” which we all enjoyed. I remember over dinner after seeing “Shockheaded Peter,” my mother asked me if I was seeing anyone, and I told her that I wasn’t. “What have you been doing?” she asked. Working and going out to see live music, mostly. “Don’t you meet anyone there?” To say hello to, or to get something to eat with; but not to date; yet, at least. “What shows have you seen lately?” That week: Petshop Boys, Cher, Melissa Etheridge, and of course I had just been out to see some musical theatre with my mother. “Do you notice a pattern?” she asked. “Possibly there is a reason why you haven’t been meeting any nice available heterosexual women at the places you’ve been going recently?” she asked. (Which is so not true! There were plenty of available heterosexual women at the Carole King concert, for example. Although they were mostly anti-social post-menopausal cat ladies.) Anyway, before I left their house Thanksgiving night, they gave me a new bag. It is a charity bag in every sense. They gave it to me out of charity. They got it for participating in a charity event. It is emblazoned with the name of the charity concerned. I am grateful to have it, but it’s just not the same. The police report became important after all, when forged checks were written on my accounts, and unauthorized charges made to my credit cards; but fortunately, I had my bank stop all the checks that were lost, and I am in a pitched battle to prevent full on Identity Theft. And then, a few weeks later, the great City of Chicago, having expended absolutely no resources to assist me in recovering my lost property, mailed me a citation for posting bills on lampposts! So, now I hate Al Jourgenson, and the House of Blues, more than ever!

Thu, 15 Dec 2005 20:30:17 GMT

Won’t you please join us for:

Sterno’s Annual

New Year’s Day Lunch

on New Year’s Day,

The First of January,

from 11:30 till 15:00

at Viceroy Of India

2518 W. Devon Ave., Chicago, IL, 60659, (773) 743-4100

Lunch Buffet about US$10. (includes tax and gratuity, excludes beverages and a la carte)

Sterno

PO Box 6030

Evanston, Illinois 60204-6030

chezsterno at hotmail.com

How can you refuse? I’ve got cancer!

I have Cancer! Let's Party!!

Tue, 20 Sep 2005 00:41:17 GMT

Been out of sorts, and out of circulation lately; just got diagnosed with the Big C. Just started chemo, and I'm gonna cut my hair before it falls out.

I will be cutting my hair at Prairie Moon, 1502 Sherman, Evanston, IL 60201 on Wednesday 21 September 2005, at about 21:00. All are invited! (Prairie Moon is a full restaurant and bar, so come early and buy dinner, food and drinks can be ordered at any time, all-ages.)

(Everybody is yelling at me to LiveJournal! Like I have time!)