swimbikerunswimbikeruhnswimbikerun…
ok, i’m not really doing that much, but maybe if i keep thinking about it, i’ll be training. like the “think system” that professor harold hill did such a good job of doing in the music man. i did bike then swim on tuesday, which was fine, except i had to take an unscheduled nap in the afternoon because i was ready to fall asleep. swimming, very tiring.
last evening i went on a bus to st. louis. not a greyhound, but a chartered bus, to see the marvelous bluegrass musician Wil Maring and her band Shady Mix. they played at shaw’s garden, and the concert was fabulous.
the only slight issue was the bus trip. 18 people got on the bus, and it was warm. “the air conditioning is going to cool down any minute” people kept saying. an hour and a half later, nobody was making that claim anymore. luckily there was lots to eat and drink while we sweated, and we managed to do quite a bit of both even though it was at least 98 degress there in the bus.
i figured that somehow the driver would have fixed the bus by the time we got back on at 10:30, or that it would have least have cooled down.
nope, and nope again. the bus seats had gotten quite a bit harder and more uncomfortable, and my personal space was invaded a lot, and i decided that i had somehow died and gone to hell without even knowing it. we stopped at a gas station briefly, and were going to get right back on the bus, but we had to stand outside in between two hot trucks, feeling the blast of their heat, waiting for the driver, who seemed to be making many purchases. hadn’t he had plenty of time to buy refreshments while we were at the concert? we would have gotten back inside the bus, but the door was closed and the few people still inside couldn’t get them open.
hell, i kept muttering to myself, listening to a loud and drunk argument about politics and all kinds of blather. B. sat next to me, and at that moment i wished he was fat, so i could have rested my head on his shoulder and it would have been soft like a pillow, instead of full of uncomfortable muscle.
in “paint your wagon,” the guys sang a song called “there’s a coach comin’ in,” which was about how eager they were for the arrival of us can can dancers, and a line in the song says something about waiting for “arms like pillows,” which always cracked me up. would a man really long for a woman with big fluffy pillow-like…arms? clearly not. right after the song we made our entrance, and i always thought, here we come, the tantalizing women with the big pillow arms.
dave bakke mentioned this very blog in his journal-register column yesterday, which was very nice of him. he talked about some spfld blogs, and said that the vast majority of them are boring, and people don’t keep up with them. he also mentioned a few by name, and he didn’t say he actually liked my blog, but he did say that if you missed my IT column, that here i am, which was a very good thing. thanks dave, if you ever actually read this.
so, look up will maring online, and order some of her cd’s. you’ll hear some great music, and you won’t have to travel to hell and back to listen.
ok then,
grace here in springfield