Sunday ramblings
As some of you know, 
fbhjr and
malterre are celebrating their 20th wedding anniversary this weekend.
What I did not know, until this weekend, that a number of my writing friends and acquaintances were off to celebrate another wedding this weekend - held in the very same spot that
fbhjr and
malterre used twenty years ago. After I blinked a lot and realized that no, people weren't just having me on, I thought, now that is a good sign.
Meanwhile, I headed out to the Winter Garden Music Fest last night - the town's little three day "let's get some bands and other groups in here and hope that this encourages everyone to try out the local bars (yes, we are up to TWO of them now, although technically, one of them wants to tell you that it isn't a bar) and the local restaurants." Alas, all the interesting (from my point of view) music was on during the day, when it was really too hot; by the evening, the remaining bands were doing standard rock and roll stuff, with a couple of original songs thrown in here and there and a group sing of "Folsom Prison Blues." (Complete with toddlers happily dancing and wiggling to "I SHOT A MAN IN RENO - JUST TO SEE HIM DIE!) The evening was also when the crowds started to gather. But not oppressively, and a breeze blew through, and it didn't rain, all distinct positives. Also, pumpkin chai, which is a reason for living.
That did lead to one unexpectedly sad consequence, however: since the other human in the house - I hesitate to type this, but you, oh readers, deserve the truth -- actually went into his room and closed the door even though he was watching football an activity that by definition leaves a human with hands ready and able to pet a cat, and -- gasp -- left the Little One out in the living room all alone. (The Grey One, apparently unable to handle to angst, took off to the closet.) It was, I am assured, one of those tragedies that can only be handled through the judicious application of more lap time and, of course, tuna.
fbhjr and
malterre are celebrating their 20th wedding anniversary this weekend.
What I did not know, until this weekend, that a number of my writing friends and acquaintances were off to celebrate another wedding this weekend - held in the very same spot that
fbhjr and
malterre used twenty years ago. After I blinked a lot and realized that no, people weren't just having me on, I thought, now that is a good sign.
Meanwhile, I headed out to the Winter Garden Music Fest last night - the town's little three day "let's get some bands and other groups in here and hope that this encourages everyone to try out the local bars (yes, we are up to TWO of them now, although technically, one of them wants to tell you that it isn't a bar) and the local restaurants." Alas, all the interesting (from my point of view) music was on during the day, when it was really too hot; by the evening, the remaining bands were doing standard rock and roll stuff, with a couple of original songs thrown in here and there and a group sing of "Folsom Prison Blues." (Complete with toddlers happily dancing and wiggling to "I SHOT A MAN IN RENO - JUST TO SEE HIM DIE!) The evening was also when the crowds started to gather. But not oppressively, and a breeze blew through, and it didn't rain, all distinct positives. Also, pumpkin chai, which is a reason for living.
That did lead to one unexpectedly sad consequence, however: since the other human in the house - I hesitate to type this, but you, oh readers, deserve the truth -- actually went into his room and closed the door even though he was watching football an activity that by definition leaves a human with hands ready and able to pet a cat, and -- gasp -- left the Little One out in the living room all alone. (The Grey One, apparently unable to handle to angst, took off to the closet.) It was, I am assured, one of those tragedies that can only be handled through the judicious application of more lap time and, of course, tuna.