Ben and I are sort of in mourning today. Late last week, CBS announced that it was changing the local talk radio station, 97.1 FM, to (YET ANOTHER FUCKING) Spanish-language station. And I almost cried.

97.1 is, or was, the home of my beloved Adam Carolla and Frosty, Heidi and Frank. Of course, if you’re not in L.A. or one of their (FUCKING FORMER) syndication markets — or if you haven’t heard me have on about how great they are — these names probably don’t mean very much to you. You might understand if you’re a Howard Stern fan. These were my friends who drove to work with me in the mornings and picked up my kids with me, and goofed around and kept me company in the car and made me laugh. A lot of Angelenos felt this way. But apparently more Angelenos than that are Hispanic. So my radio friends are gone.

Friday’s shows, the last ones, were damned near funereal. Worse, I now have nothing to listen to on the car radio. I hate all of the available music stations, unless and until they come up an Elvis Costello/Jenny Lewis station. Of course this means those two get more airplay in my car on CD. Apart from that, it’s the local AM news station. Damn, damn, damn.

Ben and I have noticed that whatever we like gets cancelled or discontinued. The example which pops to mind is this completely awesome frittata Trader Joe’s used to sell, which was wicked good and which we bought and ate often. Of course, they don’t sell them anymore. I suppose it’s because what we like is usually different to what everyone else likes. I’d be better off if I listened to Beyonce and watched American Idol. So much for social diversity. So much for individuality. And so much, damn it, for 97.1.

Adam, my friend: Mahalo for all the great radio. I know we’ll hear from you again. Frosty, Heidi and Frank: You’ll be back, hopefully not in some cityful of ASSHOLES.

In Britain in the ’70s and ’80s, there was a wildly popular TV commercial (or, strictly speaking, advert) for R. White’s Lemonade featuring the Secret Lemonade Drinker, a guy who crept downstairs to drink lemonade in the dead of night. See it here:

Secret Lemonade Drinker

Did you know? The jingle, which to me was an immediate earworm, was sung by Ross MacManus — Elvis Costello’s father. The backing vocals were sung by a teenage Elvis Costello, not yet famous and known simply as Declan MacManus.

There are those who say Elvis Costello got his early look from Buddy Holly, but it’s plain to me that he was in fact channeling the Secret Lemonade Drinker.

I have developed a strange new hobby for summer, which is this: Making homemade soup. After the success of my adventure with Old Bay Crab Soup a few weeks back, I’ve started experimenting with soupmaking. It rocks; it may be 85 degrees and swampy outside, but I tell myself I’m just warming up for wintertime, perfecting my technique.

Anyway. I devised the following soup today, which absolutely fucking rocks, and since there’s nothing else like it on the Internet that I can find, the recipe follows. It’s easy to make, too.

Surf & Turf Soup

Ingredients:

• 1 1/2 lb. cooked roast beef, chopped into 1/3″ cubes
• 1 lb. frozen medium to large scallops (available at Trader Joe’s)
• 1 medium onion, chopped
• 32 oz. beef broth
• 1 small can tomato paste
• 3 cups water
• 2 cups shredded fresh cabbage
• 1 can diced tomatoes
• 1 lb. frozen mixed vegetables
• 2-3 medium potatoes, cubed
• Seasonings to taste: I used lots of garlic powder, celery flakes, Old Bay seasoning

Mix together seasonings, beef broth, tomato paste, water and onion. Bring to a boil. Add the tomatoes, potatoes, cabbage and mixed vegetables. Bring back to a boil. Add beef and scallops. Tweak seasonings to taste. Simmer uncovered for 1 hour. Share and enjoy.

(I had forgotten how much I love to cook. For the past seven years, cooking has meant maneuvering through a roomful of clamoring dogs and babies, and has not been much fun, and has too often involved frozen chicken nuggets. Today I spent a relaxing late afternoon making soup, sipping red wine and listening to Elvis Costello’s Get Happy!! (1980) which pairs very nicely with wine and tastes of soup. I highly recommend it. I don’t care if it’s August; crank up the AC and give it a go.)

He has given the most awesome interview to the press:

Elvis Costello interview

If you wonder why I’m forever having on about this guy, read the interview and get a taste. He is so smart and witty, and I love him so much. He is the opening act for The Police in L.A. this week. Should be the other way round. Sting is to Elvis Costello as Dean Koontz is to John Irving.

I am right now listening to Elvis Costello’s new album, Momofuku, and good Christ, it is amazing, his best in years. While the title sounds vaguely obscene, it is in fact the first name of the guy who invented pot noodle. So, you know, that is extremely cool right then and there.

The release of a new album often fills a dedicated EC fan with trepidation. For every absolutely amazing album, he seems to put out an album of utter crap as a counterbalance. (Actually, I’m being unfair. It’s more like one turkey for every two gems.) The absolute nadir was North, a 2003 jazz collection which most people blamed on his newly married wife, chanteuse Diana Krall. It is both odious and unlistenable. I wanted to like The River in Reverse, his 2006 collaboration with Allen Toussaint (the title refers to the 2005 flooding of New Orleans), but I could not.

So, when he comes out with a new one, you sort of hold your breath before you listen. This album delivers; it’s a return to rock, although not to the bitter, raucous style of This Year’s Model. He’s not an angry young man anymore. Bonus: It features prominent harmonies with Jenny Lewis, my other absolute favorite singer/songwriter.

Nice one, EC. Keep it up. And please, please stay away from jazz. Leave that to the missus.

For a month now I’ve been on an antidepressant called Wellbutrin, and I love it so much I would marry it. Totally changed me from a SpongeBob-watching slob to an energetic, motivated mom and paralegal.

I was telling this story to the day care lady yesterday and she said Well, then change your ringback tone on your cell phone already. It’s SO depressing. It was an interesting insight. So I took her advice. I’m well aware of music choices as symptom; while going through a bad time I was listening to a lot of This Year’s Model by Elvis Costello (his hostility, booze and cocaine period) until I realized it couldn’t be beneficial and switched to the Grateful Dead.

Anyway, I’m a Jenny Lewis/Rilo Kiley fan, and here’s my previous ringback from her solo album Rabbit Fur Coat:

What’re you changing — who d’you think you’re changing? We can’t change things; we’re all stuck in our ways. It’s like trying to drain the ocean; what, do you think you can drain it? It was poison and dry long before you came.

And here’s the new one, from Rilo Kiley’s new release Under the Blacklight:

Hooray hooray, I’m your silver lining; hooray hooray, but now I’m gold.

Even a dullard like me can see how this is different.

Tara tagged me with this meme, and while I don’t have the cool album artwork she features (the kids and dogs will tear the place up by the time I get my hands on anything like that), here’s the list off the top of my head:

1. Elvis Costello — Get Happy!!
2. Squeeze — Eastside Story
3. Bob Dylan — Blonde on Blonde (predictable, I know, but can’t pass it up)
4. Jenny Lewis with the Watson Twins — Rabbit Fur Coat
5. Crowded House — Woodface
6. The Traveling Wilburys (self-titled)
7. George Harrison — Best of Dark Horse (probably cheating to list a compilation album, but it contains the incredibly tasty Cheer Down, previously available only on the Lethal Weapon 2 soundtrack)
8. Beatles — Rubber Soul
9. Elvis Costello — All This Useless Beauty
10. Bob Dylan — Blood on the Tracks

In turn, I will tag the following motley crew:

Tenille of Secret Evil Blog

Kristy of Wicker Chickens

Mark of Going Like Sixty

Mary of Incorrigible Night Owl (watch out, Beatles coming your way!)

This is how I looked after seeing the total charge to my credit card after buying two tickets to see Squeeze at the Grove of Anaheim on August 12. When the fuck did a pair of concert tickets start costing $150?

Menu: (1) one Starbucks six-shot Cafe Americano; and (2) one Flexeril tablet. If there’s one good thing about mysterious back ailments, it’s that they give you the GOOD drugs.

Morning Commute Soundtrack: This Year’s Model by Elvis Costello. Although his earliest hit Allison had already revealed the crooner lurking within, this 1978 release brought us EC in full snarling, sneering Angry Young Man form. (He later confessed that this was the product of lots of booze and coke.) The songs are good, but I believe this album is honestly bad for your attitude. After a few listens, you may feel a bit snarly yourself. I once learned that I was in need of a SERIOUS ATTITUDE ADJUSTMENT when I was listening to George Harrison sing about lovely George Harrisony things and abruptly growled Oh, fuck you anyway, George, with your happy horseshit and put on This Year’s Model instead.

On tomorrow’s agenda: More coffee, more Flexeril, and Rilo Kiley for the morning commute.