Outta Mind, Outta Sight

This month, I have to block off 3-4:30 on Thursdays for a hypnosis class.......yup. Looook into my eyes.....The department is losing revenue, since we can likely only schedule one pt on Thurs afternoons, now. As we close our eyes in class we're often lead by the instructor into a field of heather or a forest or the beach and on and on etc. As I sit here on a Friday hating life after taking a Head/Neck Anatomy Final Exam, I'm going to transcend space and time and go to my Graceland, Raiford's Hollywood Disco. I'm sure most of you have experienced the most famous danceclub in Memphis. If not, there's is hope. Sadly (or maybe luckily from her point of view), Whitney never got to experience all that is Raiford's. As Mr. Raiford hung up his turntables and his sparkly hat and closed Raiford's 1yr ago this weekend. As she likely let out a sigh of relief, I wept. Nevertheless, Raiford's is back. The call of a light-up-tile dance floor, white leather couches, 2 old fog machines, 1 beat up drum kit, 40 oz's, and one loud siren was too much for the old man. He's back in the booth like the late Rick James ("Give it to me girl.........."). NOW, I may actually have a reason to go back to Memphis someday. I mean I knew this place was the real deal when it was written up in Delta Sky Miles magazine (you know, the free one in the pocket in front of you). Welcome back old friend. Hope to see you all there someday and remember no parking on the dancefloor, Joy.