Friday, April 10, 2009

Here I stand head in hand

Check out this kid's moves..

I have a scary feeling that I laid down those very same dance moves last weekend.

Gibson produces their acoustic guitars here in Bozeman.

We toured the factory on Wednesday.

Stanette's sister and her whole family was here.

Stephanie, her husband, Dale, William and Charles.

I took William and Charles skiing. They are from South Georgia.

I made a good impression.


(Yes. How could you not like me? To know me is to love me. Truly.)

At the Gibson factory, they take fancy wood, moisten it, bend it, work it, shape it, sand it, laquer it, sand it, laquer it, sand it, buff it, set it up, string it, test it and sell it to you for $ 5000.

And when you hold it, and play it, you will know where your extra money went.

Sometimes, we just float through life. We stand next to the coffee machine and we try to look busy. We're not really that busy.

The waiting drove me mad. You're finally here and I'm a mess.

You may be waiting for your microwave popcorn to pop in the work microwave and be praying to the Lord, praying to the Lord, please release me, please release me to my sweet, sweet lunch. Let me be for one hour. One hour, and then I am yours for the next twenty three. If I can just get to my soy sauce and reheat this tupperware container, everything will be OK.

Just make it til lunch.

My entire day revolves around the freedom of the lunch hour.

¡Viva La Lunch!

I eat my lunch like as greedy smoker with scant seconds to catch the elvator.

Well, I guess this qualifies as a post.