It's the 33rd summer of a free and very family oriented outdoor concert series in the west valley, although maybe one factor was home looking for keys. It was summer, most of the rest was in place. The three tallest buildings by the hosting park are on the next block and resemble an iconic tall building in Atlanta. Maybe someone will be foolish enough to remake "Sharky's Machine". There are always a lot of random "maybe's" ready to strike in Hollywood!

But we're two or three traffic jams from the town of tinsel and during my walk from the transit hub I watch clouds a notch or two higher than June gloom flow, hard pasted to the mirrored buildings. Heat may be two or so days away but it is a cool and even rain hinting Sunday, not during the week when work will be faced and school further wound down by selected participants.

Today's fare is an adjunct to next weekend's jazz festival, to which your obtuse scribe has tickets ordered from the end of the millennium and kept in a sock drawer the past month. I operate out of laundry bins (ladies, I'm single---run!) and this drawer is generally for odds and ends eventually to be bundled up with a "what took me?" shrug. No storm in which to lose the precious tickets is in here!

No, the concert series is especially plentiful with tribute and(/or) long ago bands. Country Joe, Canned Heat and sundry unannounced others are scheduled in August for a long afternoon and, hinted, into the evening of "Woodstock In Woodland Hills". Uh, yes, this ***really*** is what will happen? It's a no smoking area and while I see the occasional beer and wine under these auspices bacchanalia is hardly a factor and shouldn't be.

After all, when the generously stocked ice chest which has made it to close to two decades to the main jazz festival has made it to the park series I say with mirth and truth it has "worked clean". Until the next bottled Asian tea...