I don’t know how one develops a horrible cold in the middle of summer, but somehow I did. What better time to have a sick day than on a weekend, with nothing to do but cuddle up on the couch within arms length of Kleenex, cough drops, and all 4 remote controls (I'm still not sure which goes to what gadget). Oh, but not this sick day. I had a gig in Sparta, NJ which entailed packing and loading up Ray (my keyboard), the stand, microphone, microphone stand, amps, cords, and music. Then driving for an hour in Sunday afternoon traffic (which is surprisingly horrible here for some reason), unloading it all, playing for an hour and a half, re-packing, re-loading….well, you get the point. It’s a lot of work any day, but especially when you’re still hung over from a late night dose of Nyquil. After miles of interstate and winding roads, we finally arrived at quite possibly the largest house I’ve ever been to. The gig was entertainment for a metaphysical church gathering at a parishoner’s