I never notice how ubiquitous the Denny's eateries are until I get out on the road and start looking around for places cheap to eat. McDonald's, too, and especially. Although I just can't eat at ol' Ronnie's house--I swear they use polymers and styrofoam in their mass-produced, mindless, gut-scarring fare. I counted literally 20 off-ramps in a row with a Mickey Dee's as a hapless hungry traveler option. Denny's is about at every other one. I actually don't mind eating there, as long as it's not more than twice a week. They do make an attempt, and kids working there try hard enough. But, let's face it, it's a huge corporation exploiting cheap labor and even cheaper clientele. On the other hand, everyone's low expectations aren't surpassed in a case of what you see is what you get.

All that being said, I sauntered into this Denny's snuggled up conveniently against the Motel 6 parking lot for a cup of weak-ass coffee. Shortly, Terry came in and sat with me at the counter. Jeff had loaned me five bucks out of pity for my poor, sorry ass. "I know what it feels like to not have your coffee in the morning," he had empathized. I had said, "It's probably more emotional than biochemical."

Terry had a plan to have us utilize our time less stressfully by calling up Tony and having him let us load in around 1:30 p.m. That way we'd be all set up and any sound bugs worked out privately, instead of in front of an audience. Terry gave up calling and waiting for a return call around 3 p.m. for traffic-sake, so that plan was scrapped.

Dede had volunteered her phone card number for me to use via e-mail, which made my day. I made the call at the Denny's across the way for anonymity-privacy sake, and we spoke for about 90 minutes. I felt much better having connected up with her. I'd been so dang cash poor, I couldn't afford to buy a phone card, or call long-distance from a motel.

Walking around for more than 10 minutes was a cold affair, so I spent most of the day just vegging with the tube and sleeping off and on. I dug out the insulated gloves I had smartly packed. I looked through my stuff for the insulated vest I thought I'd packed, too, but to no avail. So all I had was a sweater, t-shirt and double-lined nylon jacket. I also should have packed my wool beret. About half of what I needed to be comfortable walking around. But it was sufficient to do the load-in at Rosa's. The wind was still blowing at a good clip, although the worst was over amid news reports of downed power lines and broken windows.

We left Motel 6 at 7:30 and muscled our way onto the freeway, which was packed up pretty good. We glided slowly along at 30 MPH most of the way, arriving at the club a bit after eight. Mama Rosa and her co-barmaid were the only ones there, but the place seemed friendly, clean and well-worn. It was pretty obvious right off the bat who was really running the place. Mama micro-managed the probably-new barmaid, and the toilets were immaculate. The stage was Tony's territory, and was consequently grimy with what was left of a 15-year old carpet. It was the boys area, ya know. Tony's drumset was still set up from the blues jam the previous night that he hosts. I handed the parts of his set to Jesse and Terry to clear the way for mine. Shortly after that project, Tony walked in the back door. Nothing was said, although I know Terry took it as a bit of a diss. Tony, speaking with an Italian accent, however, was highly complimentary of Terry's music, and seemed to be knowledgeable about Terry illustrious history, unknown to those not "up" on the history of American blues and R&B.

Tony ran the PA and acted as MC. I still felt a bit sleepy from lack of exercise and over-lounging, so ordered up a--finally--killer cup of coffee, which was apparently Mama's pride and joy. It was good and strong, without being burned, and really woke me up. Jesse had two cups and was buzzing his head off. We swung into the first set, and afterward Tony was praising the band as the MC, helping to hawk Terry's CD's.

The place filled up, but never really packed out despite a "critic's choice" designation in The Reader weekly. A reporter from the paper hooked up with Terry on assignment to write a review. Tony was expecting a packed house, but it just didn't materialize.

After the second set, Tony announced the band as the "best band that has ever played here at Rosa's," so I was comforted by the fact that it wasn't OUR fault attendance was slack. We figured it was probably the premature cold weather. Hopefully tomorrow will be much better.