Going to California

01.02.2004 - 7:26 p.m.

I had this whole big rant about my xmas presents from my dad. About how he got me these Doors and Led Zeppelin CDs because I was once a raging fan - 12 years ago - and couldn't comprehend why he didn't think I didn't already own every stitch of music of theirs. Especially since he himself had given me all off their respective box sets not but a few years ago.

But that's parents. You mention, in passing, something mildly interesting to you, and they latch on to it for dear life so as to feel they "know you" and can shower you with gifts they feel interest you for the next 30 years. I'm so so glad my dad didn't hear me 15 years ago when I once whispered that I like giraffes. I can only imagine the depths of giraffe memorabilia I would be in now.

Anyhoo - I was once a raging Doors and Led Zeppelin fan. So for christmas, that's what I got. Oh, and a ton of DVDs that were nowhere to be found on the "List of DVDs I Want" list that I was forced to compose and submit. Go figure.

The point I'm getting at is, I've been spending some time with these unwanted CDs since christmas - and ya know what - I'm a fan reborn. Of the umpteen million CDs I own by these groups, my pops managed to buy the two with just enough new material on them to peak my interest, nay, rekindle my passion. Oh parents - what can't they do.

So now, chillin at work and listening to Jimmy Page croon "Going to California" live from the LA Forum in 1972, I know exactly what he's feeling.

Sometimes, Jimmy, I too feel like I'm searching for a woman who's never, never, never been born.

Amen Jimmy. And thanks dad.

But now, can we talk about the calendar(s) you bought me?! (please note the stress of the plural.)

out to pasture - to the barn raising