I'm slowly returning to a new kind of normal around here. It is Thursday night, just after eight o'clock, and I'm not worried about tying up the phone line because I know someone will be calling. There will be no call tonight, and that's one of the day-to-day things that I miss.
I was in a huge funk this morning. Even coffee, good coffee, could not open my eyes. I called in "tired" to work. My boss said do what you have to; he understands. We went to the feed store this morning in the old Ford pickup truck, and bought our first fifty pound sack of black oil sunflower for the fall. Black-capped chickadees were very grateful.
I will still be playing music tomorrow night in a little tavern just outside of Moose Lake, MN. I am not nervous yet, although I will be. I went to Fred's house to practice this afternoon, and I feel pretty good about it. I brought a lot of songs to play, Kate Wolf, Iris DeMent, Townes Van Zandt and Greg Brown and others, songs I have played and sang for years just to myself. They sounded much better with Fred's mandolin; music is really not a solitary pursuit. I could not get up there onstage all by myself and do justice to the songs I am playing. Anyway, I always have a great time whenever I play music with friends, and I know tomorrow night probably won't be perfect but it will be fun.
The coyotes are at it again, off and on this evening. Haunting.