Monday, June 21, 2010

The saxophones started blowing me down
I was buried in sound

Did some yardwork yesterday and had a beer with my neighbor, Ben. Stanette is making our flowerbeds look really nice. I do love that girl.

We had dinner last night at Ted's Montana Grill. "Ted" is Ted Turner. It's a chain restaurant, but the bison they served is free-ranging about 15 minutes from my house, on Ted's land. He's a local. At least part-time. According to my buddy, Bells, he is a really good steward of the land, and all the hippy, kind rainbow brother types like the way he manages his acreage and livestock.

Speaking of Bells, he came over Saturday. We re-configured the drum set and got rid of the second kick drum. That's just unecessary. There is more room to maneuver behind the kit. I played guitar and belted out some tunes for about four hours. We ate pulled pork sandwiches with cole slaw and corn on the cob. I slow cooked the pork for 8 hours.

Stanette and I watched a monster thunderstorm sweep through that evening, at dusk. The thunderclaps shook me down to my bowels. The lightning was jumping between clouds. Everytime the sky lit up with a strike, there was a pregnant pause for a few seconds, then a ripping crash would shake the house.

Thunder, lightning... the way you love me is frightening. You better knock, kock on wood.