August 8, 2014
Worked on cleaning out the garage yesterday and got about half of it liberated. Here's what it looked like at about noon.
My half of the garage looking about as clean as it's ever going to get in this lifetime
At 3:07 p.m. a big Old Dominion truck pulled down our street and stopped at the end of the driveway. I ran out and the driver tole me I was his last stop. We walked around to the back and he opened up the back door and he jumped inside and proceeded to walk the half mile to my palette of books.
My tiny palette of 500 books arrived in this big truck. Yes they are down there. Look hard.
To celebrate, last night Kathy and I motored downtown to drop off three boxes of "The 66 Kid" to Dan Harshberger (we high fived in his driveway!) then drove down to Gallo Blanco for dinner (two ahi tacos and a margarita, Kathy had the salmon), then down to Comerica to see Daniel and the Lion, Toad And The Wet Sprocket, and Counting Crows ($101 for two tickets, plus a $10 diet coke).
Normally, I'm a waist down rocker, leaning more to the stylings of Kurt Cobain when it comes to the nineties, but for some reason, at age 67, I found myself digging Adam Koritz's stylings. Then on his signature tune, "The Rain King" I found the tears running down my cheeks I'm so old I didn't even try to hide it. A young couple next to me were rocking out when I noticed the girl staring at me. She leaned over to her date and whispered something, but I have a good idea what she was probably saying:
"That old man in the cowboy hat is crying?!"
—A Beautiful Baby Doll, swaying to the lyrics, "I belong in the service of the Queen, I belong anywhere but in between . . ."
Yes, I blame the added estrogen, but we also have other issues.
"Old people are pushy, they don't have much time; they'll shove you aside in the coffee shop; cut ahead in the buffet line."
—John Hiatt
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