I just came from the Block Island Ecumenical Concert. Geez, I miss directing them. And I sure would have liked to have had all the women singing that were in the choir tonight. The turnout was decent, although I would have liked to have seen the place packed on a Saturday night with nothing good on TV. (390 channels and STILL nothin' to watch!)
One of the big reasons I had to go to the concert was that my friends, the Lambs (Lamb's Package Service - excellent people, they're in the phone book) were playing tonight in the Block Island Bluegrass Band. Now, a few folks are aware that Diane is a very talented classical guitarist. Let me tell you, folks, she ain't just a pretty face. (But what a pretty face. Talk about your truly beautiful women inside and out. She also would have made a fantastic Southern Woman - very steel magnolia-ish) What I didn't know is how talented Dave is. I vaguely remember Diane telling me that Dave had played drums or something percussiony in high school. And I don't think I'm giving away any state secrets to say that it might have been more than just a couple of years ago. But, to his credit, Dave decided with all the music going on at his house he ought to be a part of it. His wife found a great deal on a standup bass and the next thing I know I'm listening to him play it tonight and he kicked...butt! Really great way to go Diane, Dave and Ken! And Alison, too. That little girl (although she's a young woman now, I should watch what I say) is going places. And if she's not it's only because that's what she's chosen.
Diane is one of those friends that you don't see as often as you'd like to, but when you do you know that it's okay because you're having a fantastic time while you're there. She's also the kind of person I wanted to be, but got off track. In some ways, not all. She's gorgeous, obviously. But she also takes time to take care of herself. Not just physically, but spiritually and psychologically also. D is living the life that makes her happy and fulfilled. Go to, baby! But people tend to mistake D for nothing more than a pretty social butterfly. Like I said, she'd make a great Southern gal. This woman has got brains. A lot of them. And she uses them. And I applaud everything she's worked for and achieved.
A lot of times out here you hear people complain about all the "rich people" that have...well, basically ruined everything. I, myself, am guilty of sweeping generalizations that some of the ruder, less socially adaptive wealthy folks merit. But there's lots of folks here who have worked for their money and put it to good use living here and who shouldn't be penalized or lumped in with the "bad apples" just because they've used the resources God gave them and made good. Some of the folks that move out here integrate, attend Church, join the rescue squad, give money to all the causes that the rest of us ask them to...you know, are members of the community.
But I digress...I attended the concert. I recognized a lot of people there. There were quite a few there I swear I've never seen before in my life. There's no real point in my narrative. Some of the random thoughts in my head were: where are all the people who complain that there's very little non-alcoholic activities on BI? Where are all the financial supporters listed in the program? Where oh where can my little dog be? Is there any chance I can get Luis to wear a cowboy hat and spurs after hearing him sing Country Gospel? (or am I going to hell for picturing Luis in a cowboy hat and spurs while standing in a church?) Oh, geez, there I go digressing again. You know what? I'm gonna take my sore back, my pinched nerve and my chocolate milk and snuggle under the covers in my ripped sweatshirt and flannel jammies. I'll fall asleep to City Confidential and dream of...dare I go there?...cowboy hats and spurs and just when the dream gets good - well, the baby will cry and I'll go pat his back and it'll be just in time so I don't have to feel guilty whatsoever.
Sorry, Sam, it's nowhere near my husband telling me that I'm the only woman he'd share his farts with.
