My biggest music dream and worst nightmare collided. I was not only accepted for the Glendale Folk and Heritage Festival but placed on the very stage I dreamed about playing. I was emotionally and spiritually exhausted from losing my father and my dog who was my child in mere weeks, but excited to move forward to this dream come true.  I put together a set list and pushed myself to put on a little show.

The day came for my father's funeral and we made our way back to California, me in the shotgun seat with one of those little pocket guitars and chord sheets trying to get in every practice hour that I could... I felt tired, but never expected what would happen next happen.

The day after we buried my father we were sitting at my favorite Palm Springs burger joint when mid bite I announced that I needed to go home...now. I was suddenly burning up and when I stood my knees buckled. The drive home was a crawl, town to town in search of bathrooms and hot drinks, in search of ice and yet another bathroom. Finally home I crawled into bed and only made it out to finally get to a doctor who laughed and asked how I felt about the flu shot now (I hadn't had one in over 20 years) and suggested admitting me to the hospital. I thanked her declaring one true case of influenza against 23 years of no injections beat the odds and crawled back into bed to think.