Follow up to our burglary story --
This morning I had an appointment with Detective Tate to discuss our burglary. It seems that some people had burgled 3 homes in our neighborhood, 5 in East Austin, and perhaps another one somewhere else in Austin. One of them (we’ll call her “Miss H.”) took the loot to a pawn shop (perhaps more than one?) where the serial numbers were entered into a data base that the Austin Police check on a frequent basis.
In the meantime, Miss H. and her bad-news boyfriend “borrowed” a friend’s car and drove to San Antonio. They didn’t return the car in a timely manner and the friend reported the call as stolen. They were caught with the car in San Antonio, and the boyfriend was incarcerated. Because Miss H. had used her own i.d. to pawn the stolen goods, she was of course apprehended when they ran her name through the system.
After a night with her mother (whom it appears somehow got some sense into her), Miss H. decided to cooperate with the police. She drove through Austin with them, pointing out the crime scenes and giving quite detailed information about each one. “We hit this one early in the morning. We entered by reaching up through the dog door and unlocking the door. We took X, Y, Z, and A, B, C.” (that was our house.) She was so detailed and thorough that Detective Tate asked her, “Why, with such a detailed memory are you doing this with your life? – there has got to be something better you can do with those skills.” (I'm thinking the same thing -- waitress, doctor, biologist, secretary, you name it, she could use those skills.)
Detective Tate did assure me that my mother’s Mossman acoustic guitar (with the Sitka Spruce top and the Brazilian Rosewood back) had been recovered. The Apple iMac was probably recovered too – they are still sorting through the detritus of 8 or 9 robberies. (and perhaps detritus isn't quite the right word, since we hope the stuff hasn't disintegrated and eroded. "the remains of 8 or 9 robberies"? "the odds and ends of 8 or 9 robberies"?) We now have to wait for the property hearings (which come after pleas, trials, and sentencing), unless the pawn shops are willing to sign waivers. Our detective assured us that he was going to try to do all he could to sweet talk the pawn shops into signing the waivers. (We're thinking that his "sweet talk" isn't what you think of when you think "sweet talk." Maybe some serious arm twisting?)
Detective Tate and the rest of the burglary team at APD rock!
Tuesday, October 11, 2005
Saturday, October 08, 2005
College Day
Last Friday morning I got a call from a high school student who said he wanted to visit our university today. We frequently have prospective students visit, but this one said something about our tour -- which we don't have. I explained that we were an advising office -- which major(s) are you interested in? He thought a moment and said, "Physics." He said that he was coming from a suburb near here and would arrive before 11:30.
At 11:25, this group of four high school students came in -- bouncing off the walls, to boot. "It's our College Day, they let us out for the day, we're supposed to be visiting colleges today!"
Since my office has 3 visitor chairs, and I had files and advising cards on 2 of them, and we weren't anticipating any other student visits before noon, I said, "Why don't I just talk to you out here in the reception room? What would you like to know about our school and physics?"
"Well, what can you do with a degree in physics?"
Perfectly good question, one of the more common ones (especially from the parents), so I went into my usual spiel about majors/careers/grad & professional schools/government/business/industry/teaching/etc. (and also how the job they may get 5 or 6 years from now might not even exist today.)
Then the girl pipes up -- "What time & where is cheerleading practice?" --- which, having been unceremoniously kicked out of pep club in high school, totally threw me for a loop, "Uh," I asked the other advisor, "do you know where cheerleader practice is?"
Two of the other guys are bouncing in and out of the room. A couple of similar questions are asked and answered.
One of the students has been studying the mass of students and faculty walking past our glass doors -- he looks at his buddy and then asks me, "Is there a dress code here?" (at this point I want to say, "Normally suits and ties, but this is casual Friday.")
Then the student who asked the dress code question has another one, "Can we walk around here?"
I know now what I need to do. They really don't want to be here -- they just got released for a day, and they want to have a chance to goof off a bit. Turning to the student who asked the only question pertaining to academics, I ask, "Do you need a letter from me to take back to your teacher or counselor?"
"Yes, but him and her are already out of school. Just him and me need a letter."
I quickly type out a letter and gave the two who weren't "already out of school" (does that mean they've graduated early? . . . or dropped out?) some information about our office and majors. "Well, I hope I see you back here in a year or so."
"Thank you, ma'am!"
(note, I've made it a point not to blog about my students or colleagues, but these aren't my students -- YET!)
At 11:25, this group of four high school students came in -- bouncing off the walls, to boot. "It's our College Day, they let us out for the day, we're supposed to be visiting colleges today!"
Since my office has 3 visitor chairs, and I had files and advising cards on 2 of them, and we weren't anticipating any other student visits before noon, I said, "Why don't I just talk to you out here in the reception room? What would you like to know about our school and physics?"
"Well, what can you do with a degree in physics?"
Perfectly good question, one of the more common ones (especially from the parents), so I went into my usual spiel about majors/careers/grad & professional schools/government/business/industry/teaching/etc. (and also how the job they may get 5 or 6 years from now might not even exist today.)
Then the girl pipes up -- "What time & where is cheerleading practice?" --- which, having been unceremoniously kicked out of pep club in high school, totally threw me for a loop, "Uh," I asked the other advisor, "do you know where cheerleader practice is?"
Two of the other guys are bouncing in and out of the room. A couple of similar questions are asked and answered.
One of the students has been studying the mass of students and faculty walking past our glass doors -- he looks at his buddy and then asks me, "Is there a dress code here?" (at this point I want to say, "Normally suits and ties, but this is casual Friday.")
Then the student who asked the dress code question has another one, "Can we walk around here?"
I know now what I need to do. They really don't want to be here -- they just got released for a day, and they want to have a chance to goof off a bit. Turning to the student who asked the only question pertaining to academics, I ask, "Do you need a letter from me to take back to your teacher or counselor?"
"Yes, but him and her are already out of school. Just him and me need a letter."
I quickly type out a letter and gave the two who weren't "already out of school" (does that mean they've graduated early? . . . or dropped out?) some information about our office and majors. "Well, I hope I see you back here in a year or so."
"Thank you, ma'am!"
(note, I've made it a point not to blog about my students or colleagues, but these aren't my students -- YET!)
Thursday, October 06, 2005
WooHoo!
Tonight as I pulled into the driveway (late, as I'd gone to a lecture in the CS dept. -- more on that later), I felt my cell phone vibrating. (Mid-way through the lecture I'd realized that the ringer was set on LOUD -- Dr. Cline didn't look like the type to appreciate a roaring rendition of "Scotland the Brave" during his talk -- so I set it to vibrate, and forgot to switch it back afterwards.)
It was Scott on the phone (he's the only one who calls me on the cell anyway) and I said, "I'm in the driveway."
"Oh," he said, "I'll come out and talk to you like a normal person," and within a few seconds he was by my car. "There's a message on the answering machine that you should listen to -- it's the second one on there."
Could it be -- I couldn't bring myself to think it, but yes, it was a Detective Tate, who said, "We caught some people in San Antonio who were responsible for the burglary of your home. Can you call me on Monday to set up an appointment to give a full statement? And can you get me an itemized list of what was taken?"
WOOHOO! They caught them! Now, if only they still have some of our stuff -- in priority order, we'd really want my mother's guitar, the computer/printer, and Scott's rifle. (We want the other stuff, too, but those are the most important/valuable on several levels.)
We haven't felt this good in a couple of weeks, so we went and celebrated with enchiladas (w/verde sauce) and a Mexican martini. (o.k., Scott celebrated with a diet coke, since he is the designated driver.)
WooHoo!
It was Scott on the phone (he's the only one who calls me on the cell anyway) and I said, "I'm in the driveway."
"Oh," he said, "I'll come out and talk to you like a normal person," and within a few seconds he was by my car. "There's a message on the answering machine that you should listen to -- it's the second one on there."
Could it be -- I couldn't bring myself to think it, but yes, it was a Detective Tate, who said, "We caught some people in San Antonio who were responsible for the burglary of your home. Can you call me on Monday to set up an appointment to give a full statement? And can you get me an itemized list of what was taken?"
WOOHOO! They caught them! Now, if only they still have some of our stuff -- in priority order, we'd really want my mother's guitar, the computer/printer, and Scott's rifle. (We want the other stuff, too, but those are the most important/valuable on several levels.)
We haven't felt this good in a couple of weeks, so we went and celebrated with enchiladas (w/verde sauce) and a Mexican martini. (o.k., Scott celebrated with a diet coke, since he is the designated driver.)
WooHoo!
Monday, October 03, 2005
Being Burgled
It's taken me a couple of weeks to recover from this experience -- I was physically ill for a couple of days -- nauseous, etc.
I came home one Tuesday at noon -- not my normal routine, but I needed a break after surviving the first couple of weeks of add/drops at school.
The patio door was slightly ajar, which raised a bit of an alarm, since I'm pretty careful about locking doors, checking doors, rechecking doors. I pushed the door open with my toe, and knew right off something was wrong, since the armoire and store room doors were open. "OH NO!" -- ran back to the "Room of Music and Contemplation" (most people would call this a living room) and the computer and printer were gone.
(And in retrospect, I probably shouldn't have gone into the house as soon as I noticed things were amiss -- what if the burglars were still there? Of course, there weren't any cars around.) I went out into the yard, just as one of our retired neighbors pulled up -- they'd been gone all morning and hadn't seen anything. Another retired neighbor emerged -- same thing -- didn't see a thing.
Called the police -- 311 -- someone took the basic info and said that someone would contact us to get us a case number and take fingerprints. Called S. in Ft. Worth -- "You have GOT to come home NOW" -- he was there by 5 p.m.
At some point I went down the hallway -- an old, small tv/vcr was missing from my "clutter" room. All of the drawers in our bedroom had been rifled through, and the canvas baskets in one of the closets had been overturned. Nothing was missing from the bedroom, though -- not even my mother's squash blossom necklace and some other Indian jewelry.
Other things missing -- a larger TV, perhaps 8 years old -- the color was always sort of washed out, and we could never get it adjusted properly; a fax/answering machine that came with a 60+ page manual (which they didn't get) which never worked well -- you could never set the answering machine for 4 rings; a Karcher pressure washer (brand new, with special release fittings added by S.); an old DVD player that we'd never hooked up; and worst of all, my mother's guitar -- a 76 Mossman Great Plains, which needs a lot of expensive work to be playable. (I've already contacted the manufacturer, and need to contact some other repair places, although the one place I had look at it in Austin recommended that we have the manufacturer work on it.)
The police never came that first day, and I was too sick/stunned to care. S. realized a rifle was missing, so I called them the next day and told them that -- they apologized profusely, and S. said someone was at the house within an hour to take fingerprints -- he said they spent more than an hour on forensic stuff.
We did have the serial numbers for the computer, gun, printer, power washer and guitar. I don't care about the other stuff -- in fact, I get a secret joy knowing the hassle they are going to have with the fax machine -- you can't even use it as a printer anymore, since something I did to it the last time messed it up. It was in the storeroom until we had a yard sale.
We're not 100% sure how they got in. I'm so sure that I locked the patio door -- Scott thinks he may have left the kitchen door unlocked (yikes, for two weeks), but I think I would have noticed that. There is a BIG dog door in the kitchen door that we were using for the cats -- the detective said she could crawl through that if she didn't have her belt & gear on. Someone could have reached up through the dog door and gotten the deadbolt key -- in fact, that key was missing, so we rekeyed all the locks. We also put locks on the backyard gates -- someone could still break in if they wanted too, but this will make it a little more difficult. S. made the dog door smaller, too.
The woman we bought the house from told us once, "Oh, there's always people coming in and out the house -- we don't even lock the patio door, and I always keep a key on the kitchen window sill." The first thing we did when we moved in was change the locks, and the first thing we did after the burglary was to have the locks rekeyed.
Well, off to check Craigslist, eBay, pawn shops, etc.
I came home one Tuesday at noon -- not my normal routine, but I needed a break after surviving the first couple of weeks of add/drops at school.
The patio door was slightly ajar, which raised a bit of an alarm, since I'm pretty careful about locking doors, checking doors, rechecking doors. I pushed the door open with my toe, and knew right off something was wrong, since the armoire and store room doors were open. "OH NO!" -- ran back to the "Room of Music and Contemplation" (most people would call this a living room) and the computer and printer were gone.
(And in retrospect, I probably shouldn't have gone into the house as soon as I noticed things were amiss -- what if the burglars were still there? Of course, there weren't any cars around.) I went out into the yard, just as one of our retired neighbors pulled up -- they'd been gone all morning and hadn't seen anything. Another retired neighbor emerged -- same thing -- didn't see a thing.
Called the police -- 311 -- someone took the basic info and said that someone would contact us to get us a case number and take fingerprints. Called S. in Ft. Worth -- "You have GOT to come home NOW" -- he was there by 5 p.m.
At some point I went down the hallway -- an old, small tv/vcr was missing from my "clutter" room. All of the drawers in our bedroom had been rifled through, and the canvas baskets in one of the closets had been overturned. Nothing was missing from the bedroom, though -- not even my mother's squash blossom necklace and some other Indian jewelry.
Other things missing -- a larger TV, perhaps 8 years old -- the color was always sort of washed out, and we could never get it adjusted properly; a fax/answering machine that came with a 60+ page manual (which they didn't get) which never worked well -- you could never set the answering machine for 4 rings; a Karcher pressure washer (brand new, with special release fittings added by S.); an old DVD player that we'd never hooked up; and worst of all, my mother's guitar -- a 76 Mossman Great Plains, which needs a lot of expensive work to be playable. (I've already contacted the manufacturer, and need to contact some other repair places, although the one place I had look at it in Austin recommended that we have the manufacturer work on it.)
The police never came that first day, and I was too sick/stunned to care. S. realized a rifle was missing, so I called them the next day and told them that -- they apologized profusely, and S. said someone was at the house within an hour to take fingerprints -- he said they spent more than an hour on forensic stuff.
We did have the serial numbers for the computer, gun, printer, power washer and guitar. I don't care about the other stuff -- in fact, I get a secret joy knowing the hassle they are going to have with the fax machine -- you can't even use it as a printer anymore, since something I did to it the last time messed it up. It was in the storeroom until we had a yard sale.
We're not 100% sure how they got in. I'm so sure that I locked the patio door -- Scott thinks he may have left the kitchen door unlocked (yikes, for two weeks), but I think I would have noticed that. There is a BIG dog door in the kitchen door that we were using for the cats -- the detective said she could crawl through that if she didn't have her belt & gear on. Someone could have reached up through the dog door and gotten the deadbolt key -- in fact, that key was missing, so we rekeyed all the locks. We also put locks on the backyard gates -- someone could still break in if they wanted too, but this will make it a little more difficult. S. made the dog door smaller, too.
The woman we bought the house from told us once, "Oh, there's always people coming in and out the house -- we don't even lock the patio door, and I always keep a key on the kitchen window sill." The first thing we did when we moved in was change the locks, and the first thing we did after the burglary was to have the locks rekeyed.
Well, off to check Craigslist, eBay, pawn shops, etc.
Sunday, September 25, 2005
Arrg, We've Been Burgled!
More details to follow, but I will say that once I got through to a real human being at the end of the insurance logic tree, she asked, "Is this a loss/liability claim?" or some other insurance-ese that threw me aback for a moment. Uh, didn't she already know what I wanted? Did I not punch the right numbers on the phone keypad and say "yes" and "no" at the right times?
Apparently not, so I told her, "We've been burgled."
"You've been WHAT?!" she said.
Obviously I am not enunciating clearly in my state of shock. "We . . . have . . . been . . . burgled."
"What's that?" she asked.
Have I reached the wrong section of insurance? Does she work in the "cosmetic repair of chipped automobile windshields department" so she doesn't recognize terms not relevant to her area of work? "Someone came into our house and took our stuff."
"Oh -- you've been BURGLARIZED!"
Sigh, she thinks not only have I been burglarized, I'm so traumatized that I'm making up words.
(this post was made possible by the loan of a sweet little graphite clamshell iBook. thanks, CH!)
Apparently not, so I told her, "We've been burgled."
"You've been WHAT?!" she said.
Obviously I am not enunciating clearly in my state of shock. "We . . . have . . . been . . . burgled."
"What's that?" she asked.
Have I reached the wrong section of insurance? Does she work in the "cosmetic repair of chipped automobile windshields department" so she doesn't recognize terms not relevant to her area of work? "Someone came into our house and took our stuff."
"Oh -- you've been BURGLARIZED!"
Sigh, she thinks not only have I been burglarized, I'm so traumatized that I'm making up words.
(this post was made possible by the loan of a sweet little graphite clamshell iBook. thanks, CH!)
Thursday, September 15, 2005
Time for another house pic
The white is white Austin limestone. We like the roof -- easy to maintain, nice surface for solar panels, no weird gables to collect leaks, etc. Someday the lawn will be a native TX wildflowers & TX plants field -- this is our stealth project. S. is rototilling the front yard little by little, covering the dirt with plastic to solarize it and cook the remaining grass, and then we're going to plant it with purple coneflower, liatris, bluebonnet, indian blanket, little bluestem, turk's cap, velvet leaf mallow, whatever will grow without gobs of water. The house at the far end of our street -- a couple blocks away -- has already done this, so our house will sort of be a "bookend" -- and perhaps the madness will spread, bwa-ha-ha!
Saturday, September 10, 2005
Little Googlemapping Game
1. Think of some human construction or other geographical feature that could be seen from a satellite photo
2. Try to find it on Google Maps on your own
a. try to find it first with just your own knowledge of geography (i.e., the Great
Pyramids are across the Nile from Cairo)
b. use the hybrid map/satellite feature
c. last resort -- open a tab on your browser and find a regular map of the area
3. Variation -- find something unusual, and try to figure out what the heck it is.
Here are a couple (I couldn't get the "insert link" feature to work correctly, so you'll have to cut and paste):
http://maps.google.com/maps?ll=29.977316,31.134396&spn=0.022108,0.045540&t=k&hl=en
and
http://maps.google.com/maps?ll=39.913561,116.394959&spn=0.018793,0.045540&t=k&hl=en
http://maps.google.com/maps?ll=36.114581,-112.202511&spn=0.079176,0.182158&t=k&hl=en
more to follow. . .
2. Try to find it on Google Maps on your own
a. try to find it first with just your own knowledge of geography (i.e., the Great
Pyramids are across the Nile from Cairo)
b. use the hybrid map/satellite feature
c. last resort -- open a tab on your browser and find a regular map of the area
3. Variation -- find something unusual, and try to figure out what the heck it is.
Here are a couple (I couldn't get the "insert link" feature to work correctly, so you'll have to cut and paste):
http://maps.google.com/maps?ll=29.977316,31.134396&spn=0.022108,0.045540&t=k&hl=en
and
http://maps.google.com/maps?ll=39.913561,116.394959&spn=0.018793,0.045540&t=k&hl=en
http://maps.google.com/maps?ll=36.114581,-112.202511&spn=0.079176,0.182158&t=k&hl=en
more to follow. . .
I Miss Bus 29 :-(
Some of my first posts were little stories that happened on Barton Hills Bus 29, which ran through our old Barton Hills neighborhood (and on to the Zilker neighborhood, then directly through downtown to UT.)
Bus 29 was the coolest bus -- it only held 20 people (30 on a really busy day, but we'd be squeezed in like sardines) and it was usually the same people every day, and we'd have the same 2 or 3 bus drivers and we all got to know each other.
My favorite bus driver was Kevin, who would talk to everyone, get us talking to each other, gossip about whoever wasn't on the bus that day (but it was good gossip, not malicious stuff), etc. At halloween he'd pass out candy, and one time he even had a picnic for the passengers of Bus 29! How cool is THAT!
The last time I rode, it was sort of sad -- Mary who worked at Schlotzsky's corporate offices no longer seems to ride (perhaps moved, downsized, new job?); Janet from the Chem dept. has retired; Kevin hardly ever is assigned to 29 anymore; a few others have moved away from the neighborhood; I didn't see the woman who works at Central Market (who works with one of my favorite physics majors, Javier); Susan from Rhetoric, but is now in Classics or Liberal Arts drives to work now; -- only Scott (not my Scott -- but the guy who is referred to as "Man on Bus" in an earlier post) and "Happy Hour Guy" seem to be the only holdovers from the Golden Era of Barton Hills Bus 29.
I don't even know what bus I can take to work now (although I need to look that up, what with the fact that I do have a 15 year old car, gas prices going up, etc.) I do know that the buses that go through Western Trails don't go directly to UT -- I'll have to -- gasp -- transfer, which will take up more time which means I'll have to -- gasp -- get up earlier. Well, I am going to wait until it gets a bit cooler to attempt this. The buses that go through Western Trails are behemoths who roar through the neighborhood without charm or personality. But who knows -- perhaps Kevin got promoted to "driving the big guys" and I'll see him there?
Bus 29 was the coolest bus -- it only held 20 people (30 on a really busy day, but we'd be squeezed in like sardines) and it was usually the same people every day, and we'd have the same 2 or 3 bus drivers and we all got to know each other.
My favorite bus driver was Kevin, who would talk to everyone, get us talking to each other, gossip about whoever wasn't on the bus that day (but it was good gossip, not malicious stuff), etc. At halloween he'd pass out candy, and one time he even had a picnic for the passengers of Bus 29! How cool is THAT!
The last time I rode, it was sort of sad -- Mary who worked at Schlotzsky's corporate offices no longer seems to ride (perhaps moved, downsized, new job?); Janet from the Chem dept. has retired; Kevin hardly ever is assigned to 29 anymore; a few others have moved away from the neighborhood; I didn't see the woman who works at Central Market (who works with one of my favorite physics majors, Javier); Susan from Rhetoric, but is now in Classics or Liberal Arts drives to work now; -- only Scott (not my Scott -- but the guy who is referred to as "Man on Bus" in an earlier post) and "Happy Hour Guy" seem to be the only holdovers from the Golden Era of Barton Hills Bus 29.
I don't even know what bus I can take to work now (although I need to look that up, what with the fact that I do have a 15 year old car, gas prices going up, etc.) I do know that the buses that go through Western Trails don't go directly to UT -- I'll have to -- gasp -- transfer, which will take up more time which means I'll have to -- gasp -- get up earlier. Well, I am going to wait until it gets a bit cooler to attempt this. The buses that go through Western Trails are behemoths who roar through the neighborhood without charm or personality. But who knows -- perhaps Kevin got promoted to "driving the big guys" and I'll see him there?
Thursday, September 08, 2005
Who's to the Right of Sandra Bullock?
Sandra Bullock lives/lived in Austin part of the time, and it's said she enjoys it because she doesn't get bothered by people here. (Well, until this incident.)
At least 4 - 5 years ago, Scott and I were in Waterloo Records (a local music store that has a great selection -- you can find almost any CD there, it seems.) I looked up and saw Sandra Bullock and her then-boyfriend, musician Bob Schneider. But I was cool, didn't stare, didn't rush up to her, didn't go all ga-ga -- just kept on looking at the cd bin.
A little later I moved over to the room (this place has two big rooms) that Scott was in -- I noticed Sandra again, so I whispered to Scott, "Don't look now, but to the right is Sandra Bullock."
Scott looked up, moved his head from side to side, and said rather loudly (he does have a nice, booming voice), "WHO'S to the right of Sandra Bullock?!!!"
Oh, man, the end of our coolness! I dropped my head back into the bin -- Scott said she looked annoyed or frightened or both, and she quickly scooted over to the other room. Scott is hissing at me -- "Now she thinks I'm a STALKER, thanks a lot!" Yes, that day was truly the end of our coolness!
Scott said that he thought I was making some sort of political statement. He said he wasn't aware of any particular political views she had anyway -- left, right, who knows?
At least 4 - 5 years ago, Scott and I were in Waterloo Records (a local music store that has a great selection -- you can find almost any CD there, it seems.) I looked up and saw Sandra Bullock and her then-boyfriend, musician Bob Schneider. But I was cool, didn't stare, didn't rush up to her, didn't go all ga-ga -- just kept on looking at the cd bin.
A little later I moved over to the room (this place has two big rooms) that Scott was in -- I noticed Sandra again, so I whispered to Scott, "Don't look now, but to the right is Sandra Bullock."
Scott looked up, moved his head from side to side, and said rather loudly (he does have a nice, booming voice), "WHO'S to the right of Sandra Bullock?!!!"
Oh, man, the end of our coolness! I dropped my head back into the bin -- Scott said she looked annoyed or frightened or both, and she quickly scooted over to the other room. Scott is hissing at me -- "Now she thinks I'm a STALKER, thanks a lot!" Yes, that day was truly the end of our coolness!
Scott said that he thought I was making some sort of political statement. He said he wasn't aware of any particular political views she had anyway -- left, right, who knows?
Monday, September 05, 2005
playlist this week
what/who's on my playlist this instant: Daara J (hip hop in French and Senagalese); Amazing Rhythm Aces; Chimes of Freedom (Springsteen); Ledbelly; Irish Rebel Songs by The Battering Ram (Toora loora loora loo, they're looking for monkeys up at the zoo. And if I had a face like you, I'd join the British Army!); Foggy Dew (by the previous group -- we saw Joan Osborne sing this a few years ago with the Chieftans -- we loved Sinead's version, but Osborne's takes your breath away); Ozomatli; Castanets (Alejandro Escovedo cover by Los Lonely Boys); anything Patti Smith; anything Lorena McKennitt; Moonlight Shadow (Mike Oldfield); Scotland's Depraved (Wild Mountain Thyme), Charlie Sexton; too much music! too little time!
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