Here I sit on this hotter-than-a-popcorn-fart Thursday afternoon attempting to do the unthinkable. That's right, I'm writing two blog postings on the same day. During the same afternoon, in fact. Why would I do such a crazy thing? Well, I'm glad you asked. It turns out I have to write a speech by the end of the month, and it can't suck. That's right ... Dave is getting his lounge act ready for a comeback. Diamond-studded Elvis suite, golden sunglasses and everything!
In order to write a speech that does not suck, I need to step back into the "write real good" portion of my brain and dust off the cobwebs. Kick the tires. Turn the engine. The old-car cliches are endless! About a month ago I did something drastic for a stay-at-home parent. I actually left the house! I went to a Fiddle Festival, a Hippie Festival, our family cabin, and the Oregon coast. No, I swear I actually got out and experienced something!
The only drawback to this newfound "life" of mine was a rather extensive absence from any form of writing. I neglected this blog, and left all of you poor readers desperately searching for a way to fill the void that was my brilliance. Right? Hello?
Anyway, I've discovered that the best way to gain reentry to the "write real good" portion of my brain is to mindlessly jot down whatever crap, I mean brilliance, comes into my head. So allow me to entertain you with a few witty (or not) observations I picked up while sweating profusely to bluegrass music and freezing to death on a cliff above the Pacific Ocean. Your welcome!
* If you have ever needed proof that the world isn't fair, then I've got a tale for you. A few weeks ago April, Michael and I chugged the Matrix down an old highway to the annual Fiddle Festival in Weiser, Idaho. This is a landmark event for lovers of old-time fiddle jams and small-town frolics. We made our way to a large stage in the middle of the town park, where a bluegrass band was in full swing. My eyes immediately gravitated toward a very elderly man sitting in a folding chair right in the middle of the stage. I was instantly mesmerized by this man. Not because of his age, but the way he was absolutely kicking you-know-what on the guitar. This guy calmly sat up in his chair and ripped into a blazing solo version of "The Flight of the Bumblebee" that Eddie Van Halen would have marveled at. He followed with an extensive harmonica solo with his band, and finished with a perfect rendition of "The Devil Went Down to Georgia" on the fiddle. It was the most amazing string of diverse performances I have ever seen. Something just isn't right with the world when a genuine talent like that languishes on a makeshift stage in Weiser, Idaho. I salute you, guitar/harmonica/fiddle hero guy! You rocked my world with that performance!
* Our small suburb of Eagle features a guy so recognizable, so visible, that people know him simply as the "Hippie guy." At least that's what I call him. He roams the streets with graying blond hair flowing, a bronze tan that began some time around 1967 shining, and most of the time nothing but bare feet. What I love about this guy is how much he stands out here. At one time Eagle was a sleepy farming community filled with horse pastures and open air. Today it has become overrun with Hummers, Starbucks, and a whole bunch of agitated people sporting those stupid-looking phone things you stick in your ear (why they do this I will never understand). Well, each day you can find Hippie Guy walking up and down the street next to the movahs and shakahs. The main difference I've noticed between Hippie Guy and his peers is how much happier he looks. Something to think about.
* Have you ever been driving in the middle of nowhere and suddenly realized that there wasn't a Dairy Queen around for miles? Did you panic when the cold reality that there was absolutely no way you could purchase a peanut buster parfait hit you? Did your longing for a chicken strip basket become too great for words? Well, the good citizens of Oregon have obviously faced this very dilemma, and vowed never to let this happen in their fine state. April and I recently drove from Eagle to Lincoln City along the coast of Oregon. We encountered numerous small towns, several mountain passes and even a slug as big as your fist. At each turn we were greeted by the familiar red Dairy Queen sign. This fast-food icon was everywhere. And I mean EVERYWHERE!! It didn't matter if we were in a large city like Portland, or a tiny one-horse town, Dairy Queen was there. In fact, there was a Dairy Queen just a few blocks from the house we stayed in. And we passed a Dairy Queen sitting next to an abandoned farm on the way home (I'm not exaggerating). So I salute you Oregonians! You and your freaky obsession with Dairy Queen and their soft-served goodness! You get your slushy on!
Be good kiddies!
- Dave
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment