Another not-rainy Sunday
6th grade was more or less a top-of-the-world time for me, and 7th grade sucked. Everything was as it should be and felt under control one year, but then we moved from suburban Virginia to somewhat near Pittsburgh, PA the next. The elementary school hijinx that carried the day (and I, as a hinjinxster) carried squat in PA, and things really began to unravel. Little League was a good barometer. I was always a crummy baseball player, but it didn’t matter in VA because we were all goofy kids. By the time the spring of 7th grade rolled around, half the kids were in moustaches, more than half of them chewed tobacco, and fastballs were completely unhittable. Holeee crap. I remember feeling very very far away from my sixth grade baseball team, and I basically just started to dread the game. I would seriously beg the skies for game-cancelling rain, but the rainy Sundays rarely came, so I counted the days and limped my way through til June.
Moving ahead: this past weekend we stood up a good friend’s wedding a few hours’ drive away. Not a decision taken lightly, but we just had too much on our plates as the new week approached (a week that includes three days of Little Silver in the studio, recording music that is presently only partly writ). On Friday past, the weather report showed a very productive work-weekend ahead – rainy weather the whole time – but Saturday turned out okay and we spent a bunch of it in the park. I woke up Sunday praying for rain. Keep me inside, at the computer, on a guitar, making good on our failure to attend our buddy’s wedding, but no luck. Patchy clouds in Brooklyn, a couple of trips to go get coffee, one last look at the roses in the Botanic Garden, and here I am a complete loser on Monday morning, so completely unable to hit fastballs.
A song for the day: