So, last night I hit on Paul McCartney’s little film and soundtrack Give My Regards to Broadstreet and then I got curious, so I delved deep into You Tube and interviews and articles from WAY back. There is a lot to discuss (if you are a Beatles/McCartney fan — and there is so much Beatles history in this).

Let’s dive in. The film was released in 1984 and was a commercial bomb. Not bomb as in good. The soundtrack sold well, but we have to remember, this was when McCartney was still doing well on the charts. “No More Lonely Nights” was a beautiful ballad, which they turned to a bastardized rock version.

Back to the film. First and foremost, it hardly passes as a film. It’s more small sequences between glorified videos. I still like the in-studio scenes, but I love that kind of stuff. Here’s the background: McCartney had always wanted to do another film — post Beatles. That’s it. That’s all.

Here’s the plot: Paul is in his chauffeured car and starts to daydream. He dreams his master tapes are stolen and while the tapes are being hunted down, he further dreams a sort-of Paul’s day-in-the-life: we get Paul in the studio re-recording Beatles favorites, fanciful scenes with Ringo and wife Linda in a Victorian afternoon picnic (if I’m remembering correctly) and a wacky ballroom sequence to go with the song “Ballroom Dancing,” which I doubt even a seasoned fan would recall. After more silliness, the master tapes are recovered and Paul wakes up. Yep, that’s it. And I was obsessed with this film (I was 11, that’s my excuse).

Most of it is on You Tube. No need to watch, I’ll fill y’all in this week and explain why the re-recording were pointless and just plain wrong. And there’s why McCartney didn’t ask George Harrison to be in the film. It just gets more ridiculous. Tomorrow I’ll address that and more and start with the music.

Oh, and there was a video game made. Yes, there was.

We’re going to have fun with this one.

This is my dog, Eleanor Rigby.

I love this fuzzy thing. I name our pets after writers or songs or whatnot, and she was destined to be a Beatles song. And since my pets have to have middle or last names, she had to be Eleanor Rigby. We call her Ellie most of the time.

I thought I would share some of her quirks.

She likes to hang out with Fitz (F. Catz Fitzgerald) whether he wants her to or not. Ellie is half Westie, half dachshund. That makes for a weird dog.

I’ll end with things she is scared of/ incessantly barks at

• The stationary bike
• Garbage bags
• Hair dryers
• Some shoes
• The cordless sweeper
• Brooms
• Mops
• The vacuum cleaner
• Laundry baskets
• When my husband takes his shirt off
• Hats

And that may be all.

And now for something completely different.

Here’s the song she’s named after. This version is pretty rare, I’d say. It’s from the little-seen film/musical Give My Regards to Broadstreet that I was a little obsessed with after seeing it on HBO around 1985/86. I found it the beat up VHS for sale in a discount bin in a tiny video store when spending the night with my grandparents. I’m sure they thought I was a weird 11 or 12 year old asking for a Paul McCartney musical. The film is weird. Artsy and odd. Ringo and Linda and George Eastman are in it, but no Harrison (I never heard a reason why he was left out or not interested). The clip below hints at the weirdness, but even weirder is that it’s the VHS, obviously, subtitled in what I assume is Japanese. See? Weird.

Yesterday I wrote about my new favorites: Caught the Ghost. This morning I read up on them — they say they are an indie electro soul band. That pretty says eclectic love to me. I listened to a ton of their stuff. Only one album and a couple of covers, but good stuff. Go get it, you’ll love it. Here’s a bunch. Enjoy.

By now, Dear Readers, you know I love stumbling across a new (to me) musical artist. I did that yesterday. And they’re pretty cool.

Here’s the (not long) story: I binge-watched The Good Wife and after I finished it, Amazon Prime recommended Suits. I’d only heard of Suits because the soon to be wife of Prince Harry is/was in it. The premise was great, so I was into it immediately. A few songs have been good, but this one blew me away.

It’s called “Sleeping at Night” by Caught the Ghost. Listen. I hope you like it.

“I have a son, who is my heart. A wonderful young man, daring and loving and strong and kind.”

Maya Angelou

This past year my son has branched out of his comfort zone to play football and baseball. In two weeks his team will play on the playoffs, even though I believe we are dead last. But that’s ok. He’s had a good time. He’s made friends. He learned to stand at the plate and finally put his elbow out instead of tucked in like a baby bird.

My baby bird is still in the nest, but branching out. His voice is deepening and he’s getting a little fuzz above his lip, but he’s still in the nest. I still see him with his Spider-Man blanket, giggling while watching cartoons on my iPad. He sheepishly covers the iPad screen when watching cartoons because he doesn’t want us to think of him as “a little kid.” He still says his prayers and tells his dad and I “goodnight, I love you” each night. He asks for change to ride his bike to go to the vending machine by the pool clubhouse to buy a Powerade. He asks for sips of my iced coffee. He says he feels so dirty when he wears shoes without socks, but thinks nothing of not showering after a baseball game.

We’re in a strange place between boyhood and teenager. I’m trying to get used to it. One thing stays the same. He is my heart.

People say they are busy all the time. “Crazy busy.” It’s become some kind of new normal. Busy with work, busy with kids, busy with family obligations. It’s almost never anything someone wants to do.

But there is a different busy. The busy where I live daily. Again, it’s the busyness of telling myself I’m ok. And I’m ok right now. I am. But it’s a daily thing. No apologizes. And those of you Dear Readers who struggle daily, you owe no apologies either. Breathe it out. No apologies.

Tonight was the last game of the season (thank you, Jesus) of my son’s baseball league. I was the Team Mom. I think I may have mentioned it on this very blog. I’m very much not a Team Mom. I am not that woman. I can take charge. I can organize. I can schedule. I can manage people. You know what I can’t do? Manage parents. Parents who believe their child to be the next A-Rod.

Guess what our final score was tonight. Go ahead, guess. I lost count after the opposing team was ahead by 18. We did set a record this season, which is kinda cool, except we were on the losing end of the record — widest spread — we lost by almost 40 runs. Not good.

It’s ok though. I won’t get volunteered into being Team Mom again. Parents are the worst part of sports. Some kid on the other team was called out for “showboating.” He was 12. What kind of showboating could he be doing? None of the parents on our team saw it.

Tonight I realized what’s missing from little league: commentary. I’m good with a microphone. I’ve emceed my share of events. I would be an excellent baseball commentator. Look out, Bob Costas.

And besides, I love baseball. And because I’m a music person, I can link it to a song — a song I like from a band I love about a quote from a ball player.

From a Cubs site:

Legend has it that it was an extremely hot day in July, about 105, and the Cubs were in last place. Ernie entered the clubhouse to a downtrodden cast of players. He looked around and said, “It’s a beautiful day – let’s play two!”

Here’s the Gin Blossoms: